It is important however that we have right conceptions of the nature of this dominion. Christianity, as we have noticed, aims at exerting a control over the motives, feelings and unseen life. It asks not for outward deference, but for inward submission. The conscience, the heart, the will must bow to its authority. A respect which lies on the surface only of the character, or which glides from the tongue like the schoolboy's recitation of a few well-conned sentences, is not what the Christian owes to his religion, nor what it will accept in place of that homage of the soul which is the only proof of an insight into its nature. Strange that men should ever think to deceive God by playing the parrot or the hypocrite! There are many who make the fatal mistake of substituting profession for reality; and in a community who hold religion in high regard there may be politicians who will take this course in the hope of winning their fellow-men. If they succeed, they only effect a selfish purpose; they do not illustrate the influence of religion. Neither is it an attention to forms, however sincere, nor a use of institutions, however constant, that will satisfy the demands of Christianity. It requires something more than reverence for the means by which it binds its power upon the disciple. The age in which faith terminates in the _means_ of religion is the precursor of an age of unbelief. Ceremonies are but the ghosts of dead professions, unless a living faith convert them into ministers of goodness. Forms are needed, institutions are all but essential; but they are only the garments in which the Divine spirit of religion must be clad for its exposure to a cold and ungenial world. Many are there who look with profound respect upon the dress, but think not whether it covers a divinity or a fiction. How have men--great statesmen and small politicians as well as others--praised the Established Church of England, and actually stood in awe of its majesty, when the thought of its spiritual relation to themselves or any one else had perhaps never crossed their minds. It is not reverence at certain times--a periodical service--by which men are required to prove themselves disciples of Christ. Righteousness, holiness, is not confined to any hour or place. The sanctuary whose walls the hands of labour have raised, is not the only house of God. There is a temple which the Divine Architect has reared, whose walls are immortal, in which his worship must be maintained by faculties ever conscious of his presence. There is an altar, the altar of the heart, on which a perpetual sacrifice must be presented.