of the rights of God and man. A man wishes me to think as he does, in order that I may subserve his purposes; not considering that I have the same right to my opinions that he has to his.

For example, I have my own opinions concerning Original Sin, Depravity, and Atonement. Why should a man be angry at me because I think for myself on these subjects? Why should he, when he meets me in the street, cock up his nose, knit his eyebrows, shrug his shoulders, look askance, and glide by me like a basalisk, whose very silence tells me how much venom he has got in his bag? I should not define these traits so readily and so closely, but I have seen them so often, that I am like the English sculptor who has visited Italy, and of course takes nothing from the descriptions of others. It is not merely because he is a nascent microscopic Calvin-or, if I may so speak, a Calviniculus, and therefore wishes me to think like his great master. No:-he is not so disinterested as all that. It is because I dare be independent enough to think differently from him, and, therefore, do not follow in his train. His own conscience will not allow him, for a moment, to harbour the idea that he is led to this conduct from the love of truth. The love of truth renders men meek, amiable, and candid—generous, affectionate, and condescending. Besides, who is to be the judge of truth?—I have the same right to judge for myself that he has. We are both equally accountable to God for our opinions.

We know not how the heavenly bodies move; yet we perceive their motions uniform, grand, and beautiful. The constitution under which creatures exist in this world, though it is mysterious, yet we perceive it to be universal, regular, and unalterable. One of its first and most obvious laws is, that all creatures, which come into being in a series of generations, have power to propogate that series, and that every creature shall produce its own likeness. Whatever of mystery there may be in this constitution, it appears upon inspection to be necessary, useful, and beautiful. If a bramble could spring from the grape, a thorn from an olive tree;-if a dove could produce a serpent, or a lamb could spring from a tiger, all order and harmonyall security, usefulness, and beauty, would fall sacrifices to universal disappointment, confusion, deformity, and misery.

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Man, though the noblest of terrestrial creatures, by the sovereign constitution of his Maker, exists under this general law :and it is admitted and believed, that, had our first parents remained in a state of rectitude, they would have continued happy and immortal; and that all their posterity would have, in these respects, been like them. Whatever mankind derive from their first parents must, by the divine constitution, resemble the source from whence derived; and experience shows that they have derived a nature, which, when matured into action, will act sinfully. Hence their nature is properly said to be corrupt, and they are in scripture called, "degenerate plants of a strange vine." But blame cannot be charged to the account of any creature prior to, and exclusive of, the consideration of his own voluntary disposition and conduct.

I beg the reader to examine the preceding few remarks; to divest himself of all prejudice in favour of names and authorities, and he will perceive that they are almost self-evidently true. If the subject may be illustrated by the analogy which it bears to the constitution of the natural world, Adam was constituted the head of the human race, in the same sense that the first apple tree was constituted the head of apple trees; or the first lion the head of all lions; and all lions acted in the first lion, as all mankind acted in Adam.

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The word of God teaches that the human race were ruined by the fall of our first parents. It was so from the sovereign constitution already stated. By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, wherefore death hath passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." If, in consequence of Adam's fall, all his posterity derived from him a sinful nature, then it is proper to say, that, "by the offence of one, many were made sinners ;” and so, of necessity, "by the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation."

If nothing depended on the exposition of these passages of St. Paul, it must be admitted that this mode of expounding them is fair and liberal. Indeed, it is clear, that by these expressions he means to allude to the grand constitution already explained, and which experience every moment illustrates before our eyes. But important consequences flow from a right understanding of

these and sundry similar passages of scripture. For, if they are understood to establish the idea that Adam's crime, guilt, and character, are in fact transferred to his descendants, prior to the consideration of their own moral character; if they are condemned for his act, independently of their own, then the first principles of immutable and eternal justice are supervened and destroyed, and innumerable solemn and express declarations of holy writ are contradicted.

"What mean ye that ye use this proverb concerning the land of Israel, saying, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge?—As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any more to use this proverb in Israel. Behold! all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine. The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, nor the father the iniquity of the son. Hear now, O house of Israel, is not my way equal, are not your ways unequal?"

But these words were addressed particularly to the house of Israel. What then? They go, unequivocally, to the main point for which I contend; and establish it with great force and clearness. God here condescends to vindicate his character from the charge thrown on it by the house of Israel, which was that his way was unequal. He, therefore, by a solemn oath, delares they shall no longer use that proverb, which indicates the imputation of guilt, and transfer of character from father to son. “All souls are mine. The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father," &c. The equality and justice of the divine government are predicated on this declaration, and do certainly depend essentially on the truth of it: and it is fairly and strongly implied, that, were the son condemned for the sin of his father, the way of God would not be equal.

Some, indeed, evade these remarks and conclusions by saying, humorously, that Ezekiel was rather inclined to Armnianism. Alas, for poor Ezekiel and James! they neither of them stand very high in the opinion of the hyper-calvinist: they were rather lax.

It never entered into the heart of any of the sacred and inspired writers, from Moses to St. John, that Adam's posterity

were any otherwise involved in this crime and guilt than that human nature was originally and entirely corrupted in consequence of his apostacy. The first parents being sinful, frail, mortal, and miserable, such are their offspring. The doctrine of a real transfer of character, and imputation of guilt, over and above all this, would suppose "the children's teeth to be set on edge" with a vengeance. Yet volumes have been written to make it out; absurdities have been heaped upon absurdities; thousands of pages have been written to show that we all acted in Adam; and men have strained their eyes to see how that could be, till they become bloodshot-nay, even blind. And they remind me of Erasmus' story of seven men, who went to take a ride, one clear fine day, with Poole. As they were riding along the road, Poole, to make himself sport, looked up into the heavens, and suddenly crossing himself in pretended surprise, declared he saw in the sky a monstrous dragon with fiery horns, and his tail turned up into a circle. They all, very much astonished at the declaration, looked up, but saw nothing. "Can't you see it," continued Poole, "It is there! You must certainly be blind. Amazing! How terrible it looks. Don't you see it yet? Oh! I never saw such a sight in all my life before. You certainly must see it." In short, after a while, one, a little more credulous than the rest, said, I think I do see it. Yes, yes-I see it plainly. At this, another fancied he saw it. And, says Erasmus, some, by force of imagination, others fearing they should be thought less sharp-sighted than the rest, confessed they saw it and they soon all came in, without a dissenting voice. The next day a particular account of the prodigy was published in the papers, authenticated by the testimony of six or seven credible men.

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To candid, unprejudiced men, I shall use but one argument to prove we did not act in Adam; and that is, because we did not exist till long after Adam left the world.

INVESTIGATOR.

No. VII.

DEPRAVITY Consists in the want of holiness, or, if you please, love of sin; and has no connexion, strictly speaking, with a man's ability to do right or to do wrong. In this sense I consider mankind by nature as totally depraved, for they have no love to God, to his law, or government, or gospel. They have no incapacity to do right but what arises from their love to do wrong; there is no bar in the way of their doing their whole duty, but their disinclination to do it. Their love of sin, though voluntary, is so decided and uniform, their disinclination to obey God, though free, is so determined and strong, that some have been pleased, for the sake of distinction, to term it a moral inability.

If it must be admitted as a perfection and felicity, in any language when it is stored with words and phrases fully adapted to express, without tedious circumlocution, the various ideas we may wish to convey, it surely cannot be denied that the phrase, moral inability, is both useful and necessary. If it be convenient to have a phrase which shall express, in a clear and simple manner, the impediment which arises from a strong disinclination to do a thing, or a voluntary determination not to do it, the phrase before us is convenient. I am unable to pluck the sun from his station in the heavens; this is called a natural inability. I am unable to ascend a tower and throw myself down; this is a moral inability. And, using words according to their common and popular import, in the former of these cases there is a want of ability; in the latter a want of will.

However the sinner's inability may be considered, whether natural or moral; whether in want of ability, or in want of will, one thing is certain, the above distinction exists, and has been recognized by the ablest, most perspicuous, and most classical writers in our language, and probably in all languages. Indeed, there is not a day passes, there is scarcely an occurrence in which this phraseology is not adopted; and I am bold to say, none use it oftener than those very persons who inveigh so bitterly against moral inability as an idle and useless distinction. Every body, learned and unlearned, old and young, use the phrase, and under