censure, the marks of religious zeal, and seem to have no more idea of prudence, than if the word was not to be found in the Bible, and the grace itself constituted no part of the christian character. All these blemishes in religious profession have nothing to do with the loveliness of religion, and in too many instances carry a strong implication of the want of the thing itself. Religion is first pure, then _peaceable_, “_gentle_, _easy to be entreated_, full of _mercy_ and of good fruits.” It is modest, unassuming, kind, benevolent. The “law of kindness is in its lips;” and, without being servile, fawning, adulatory, or timid, can tincture the manners of a Christian with delicacy, and give to one, who is firm as a rock in his attachment to truth, all imaginable softness and delicacy of address. It dreads clamor, and is equally remote from forwardness and impetuosity. It “bridles the tongue,” and forms that “unruly member” for uttering the dialect of candor, gentleness, and caution. It imparts the wisdom of the serpent without the poison of its subtilty, and the harmlessness of the dove without its timidity. It is discerning, and can explore characters without impertinent curiosity, without any pretensions to prophetic intuition, or any interference with the private concerns of others. It teaches to cultivate friendship from disinterested motives, and to guard it by acts of delicacy and reciprocal generosity; and will enable a Christian to make sacrifices here, when the connexion is manifestly dangerous, whatever may be the consequences arising from the misrepresentations or slanderous tales of the rejected party. In short, the loveliness of religion and religion itself appear so interwoven with each other, that we cannot in some points of view _separate_ them without destroying the very essence of Christianity. Of this, our Lord’s sermon upon the mount, and St. Paul’s beautiful delineation of charity, that is _love_, in 1 Cor. xiii. afford a striking proof. “Love suffereth long and is kind; charity envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth (ςεγει covereth) all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” The close examination of one of these passages made a great man once exclaim, “Either this is not true, or we are not Christians.” And, perhaps, were some but to alter the form of the exclamation, by making the first member of the sentence an affirmative, and leaving the last in its negative state, and then apply the whole to themselves, they would utter an awful truth, declarative of the real condition of their character before God.