It is also a power distinct from the reason; it is not conviction or belief—it is a power indifferent to the true and the right, to the false and the wrong, in the sense that it is not necessarily determined by conviction and belief, by the true and the right, or by the false and the wrong. The conception of will in its utmost simplicity is the conception of pure power, self-moving, and self-conscious—containing within itself the ground and the possibility of creation and of modification. In God it is infinite, eternal, uncreated power; and every nisus in his will is really creative or modifying, according to its self-directed aim. In man it is constituted, dependent, limited, and accountable.

Now in direct connexion with power, we have the conception of law or rule, or what power ought to do. This law or rule is revealed in the reason. In man as pure, and we conclude in God likewise, as the archetype of all spirit, there is given a sensitivity or a capacity to be affected agreeably by, and to be drawn towards the objects approved and commanded by the reason. If this sensitivity does not move in harmony with the reason, it is corrupted. Now will is placed in a triunity with these two other powers. We can distinguish but not separate it from them. A will without reason would be a power without eyes, or light. A will without sensitivity would be a power stern and isolated;—just as a reason and sensitivity without will, would be without efficiency, or capacity of giving real manifestations.

The completeness and perfection of each, lies in a union with all; but then each in its proper movements is in some sense independent and free of the others. The convictions, beliefs, or perceptions of reason are not made, nor can they be unmade by the energy of the will. Nor has the will any direct command over the sensitivity. And yet the will can excite and direct both the reason and the sensitivity, by calling up objects and occasions. The sensitivity does not govern the reason, and yet it supplies conditions which are necessary to its manifestations.

The reason does not govern the sensitivity, and yet the latter would have no definite perception, and of course its highest sensibilities would lie dormant without the reason.

So also the reason and the sensitivity do not determine the acts of the will. The will has efficiency, or creative and modifying power in itself—self-moved, self-directed. But then without reason and sensitivity, the will would be without objects, without designs, without rules,—a solitary power, conscious of ability to do, but not knowing what to do.

It addition to the above, the will has this high and distinguishing peculiarity. That it alone is free—that it alone is opposed to necessity. Reason must perceive, must believe. Sensitivity must feel when its objects are presented; but will, when the reason has given its light and uttered its commands, and when the sensitivity has awakened all its passions and emotions, is not compelled to obey. It is as conscious of power not to do, as of power to do. It may be called a power arbitrary and contingent; but this means only that it is a power which absolutely puts forth its own nisus, and is free.

It follows from this, that the will can act irrespective of both reason and sensitivity, if an object of action, bearing no relation to reason or sensitivity, be possible. It is plain that an object bearing no such relation, must be very trifling. If a case in illustration could not be called up, it would not argue anything against the indifferency of will;—it would only prove that all objects of action actually existing, bear some relation to reason and sensitivity. There is a case, however, frequently called up, and much disputed, which deserves some attention, and which it appears to me, offers the illustration required. Let it be required to select one of the squares of the chess-board. In selecting one of the squares, does the will act irrespective of reason and sensitivity, or not? Those who hold that the will is necessarily determined, must make out some connexion between the act of selection, and the reason and sensitivity. It is affirmed that there is a general motive which determines the whole process, viz: the aim or desire to illustrate, if possible, the question in dispute. The motive is, to prove that the will can act without a motive.

I reply to this, that this is undoubtedly the motive of bringing the chess-board before the eye, and in making all the preparations for a selection;—but now the last question is, which square shall I select? The illustration will have the same force whichever square is selected, and there is no motive that can be drawn either from the reason or the sensitivity for taking one square in preference to the other: under the absence of all such motives, and affording each time the same attempt at illustration, I can vary the selection sixty-four times: in making this selection, therefore, it appears to me, there is an entire indifferency as to which particular square is selected;—there is no command of the reason directing to one square rather than another;—there is no affection of the sensitivity towards one square rather than another, as most agreeable and yet the will does select one of the squares.

It will be proper, in this place, to consider the following argument of Edwards against indifferency of will: “Choice may be immediately after a state of indifference, but cannot co-exist with it: even the very beginning of it is not in a state of indifference. And, therefore, if this be liberty, no act of the will, in any degree, is ever performed in a state of liberty, or in the time of liberty. Volition and liberty are so far from agreeing together, and being essential one to another, that they are contrary one to another, and one excludes and destroys the other, as much as motion and rest, light and darkness, or life and death.” (p. 73.)

Edwards reasons according to his own psychology: If the will and the sensitivity are one, the will cannot well be conceived of as in a state of indifference, and if it could be conceived of as in a state of indifference before it exercises volition, inasmuch as, according to his system again, volition is the sense of the most agreeable, the moment volition begins, indifference ceases; and hence, if liberty consist in indifference, liberty must cease when volition takes place, just as rest ceases with motion.