If the boundaries were well defined—if the separation was by a wall (even a low one), instead of a ragged hedge, Churchmen and dissenters would have fewer occasions of quarrel; for bad boundaries make bad neighbours: there would be more charity, they might converse amicably, and shake hands over it, each clearly knowing and keeping within his limit.

And if the doctrine of the Real Presence were taught, believed, and felt, there would be less of that grevious, crying sin of irreverence, which is so lamentably and universally prevalent in the Church; people, even clergy, now enter a Church without even any attempt to manifest reverence; they stare about, talk loud, on the most ordinary and trifling matters; the only attitude you never see them assume is that of reverence and prayer. In the Churches of the Roman obedience—enter them when you will—you see people on their knees, absorbed in their devotions.

Even putting aside the principle of duty, is it wise to persevere in this system of disingenuous ambiguity? does it commend itself by its success? The majority of the upper classes (ten thousand they have been termed) are probably supporters of the Church—Churchmen. Are the tradesmen and middle classes so? are they not the chief strength and support of dissent. And the poor people—the masses in modern phrase—the real life and strength of the nation, as they are proclaimed to be when their support is needed; are they Churchmen? I think they are; their humble quiet spirit warms to her teaching, and only looks for more emphatic and clear enunciation of it.

If the Church rose to the discharge of her duty, plainly taught her great doctrines, and gave warrant for her sincerity by a speaking and glorious ritual, then would the people rally to her support.

But at present, though Churchmen, it is to be feared that the masses are but nominally so. They go to Church where there is no meeting house; but if one be at hand, they will frequent it, as readily as the Church. In fact, they are not taught, and they see no difference; and they are too plain and honest not to act on their convictions.

I do hope then that we may be entering on a better system, a system of plain dealing, calling things by their own names, irrespective of possible consequences.

Lord Capel, one of the most consistent and high-minded amongst the Royalist Leaders under Charles 1st., immediately before his execution for the defence of Colchester, solemnly charged his family to make Ps. xxvii. 11, as he always had done, a part of their daily prayers—“Teach me Thy way O Lord, and lead me in a plain path.”

The question of Altar Lights then derives its whole importance from its relation to the great doctrines of the Sacrament; they are, as it were, the Colours of the Regiment, of which the late Sir William Napier used to say, they were the pivot on which everything turned—Defend the Colours—Form on the Colours—Recover the Colours, was an appeal understood by all, and stirred the strongest and deepest energies of every man. I can only hope in conclusion, that the candles which you have lighted may “rekindle such a flame in England, as by God’s blessing, shall never be extinguished,” and only wishing that the first discussion of the matter had fallen into more learned and abler hands,

I am, my Dear Mr. Molyneux,

Yours very sincerely,