The state of mind which is under the influence of a habitual sense of the divine presence may, therefore, be considered under two relations,—the one referring more immediately to the Deity,—the other to our fellow-men. The former seems chiefly to include an effort to have every desire, thought, and imagination of the heart, regulated by a sense of the presence and the purity of God, and in conformity to his will. Amid much feeling of deficiency in these respects, it leads our attention to that interesting mental condition, in which there is a contest and a warfare within,—and a prevailing opposition to every thing that is at variance with the purity of a moral being. The second division includes the cultivation of feelings of kindness and benevolence towards all men;—the love of justice,—the love of truth,—the love of peace,—the forgiveness of injuries,—the mortification of selfishness;—in a word, the earnest and habitual desire to promote the comfort and alleviate the distresses of others. From these two mental conditions must spring a character, distinguished alike by piety towards God, and by high integrity, benevolence, and active usefulness towards man. He who earnestly cultivates this purity within, feels that he requires continual watchfulness, and a constant direction of the mind to those truths and moral causes which are calculated to influence his volitions. He feels farther that he is in need of a might not his own in this high design; but for this he knows also he can look, with humble confidence and hope, when, under a sense of moral weakness, he asks its powerful aid.
II. A humble and dutiful submission to the appointments of Providence,—as part of a great system which is regulated by infinite wisdom. The man, who bears upon his mind this sublime impression, has learnt to contemplate the Almighty One as disposing of the events of the lower world, and assigning to each of his rational creatures the place which he occupies. That place, whatever it may be, he perceives has attached to it special duties and responsibilities,—and calls for the cultivation of moral qualities peculiarly adapted to it. Is it one of comfort, wealth, or influence,—solemn obligations arise out of the means of usefulness which these command. Is it one of humble life, privation, or actual suffering,—each of these also has its peculiar duties, and each is to be contemplated as belonging to a great system of moral discipline, in which no part can be wanting in consistency with the harmony of the whole. Such a submission of the soul to the appointments of God does not preclude the use of all legitimate means for bettering our condition, or for preventing or removing sources of distress. But when, under the proper use of such means, these are not removed, it leads us habitually to that higher power, to whose will all such attempts must be subservient;—and, while it elevates our thoughts above present events and second causes, it reminds us of that great scheme of discipline through which we are passing, and the purposes which these events are calculated to promote in our own moral improvement. Viewed under such feelings, the ills of life lose that aspect in which we are too apt to contemplate them; and will be considered with new and peculiar interest, as essential to that system, the great object of which is to prepare and purify us for a higher state of being.
III. A sense of moral imperfection and guilt,—and that humility and devout self-abasement which arise out of it. This must be a prominent feeling in every one who views his own conduct, and his mental emotions, in reference to the purity of God. It naturally leads to supplication for his mercy and forgiveness; and, in the wondrous display of his character, given in the sacred writings, a provision is disclosed, in virtue of which the exercise of mercy is made consistent with the truth and justice of a moral governor. This dispensation of peace we find habitually represented as adapted to man in a state of spiritual destitution: and no mental condition is more frequently referred to, as acceptable with the Deity, than that which consists of contrition and lowliness of mind.—"Thus sayeth the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit,—to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." With this state of mind is very naturally associated a sense of moral weakness,—and a constant reliance on divine aid, both for direction through life, and for the culture of the moral being.
IV. It is only necessary to add,—a profound sense of gratitude and love towards the Deity as the giver of all good,—as our daily preserver and benefactor. These feelings will have a special reference to the display which he has given of his character, as merciful, gracious, and slow to anger; and to the provision which he has made for the recovery and restoration of his fallen creatures, through "God manifest in the flesh." Of this divine person, and the work which he came to accomplish, philosophy presumes not to speculate;—but we have seen the light afforded, by the inductions of moral science, respecting the probability of this revelation,—and its adaptation to the actual state of man in his relation to the Deity. We have seen the impression conveyed by the character of the Messiah, considered merely as matter of historical truth,—exhibiting such a pattern, as never appeared in our world, except in him, of a pure and perfect moral being. We have seen, farther, the incontrovertible nature of that evidence, transmitted by testimony, and confirmed, as it is, in a very peculiar manner, by periodical observances, on which the whole revelation is supported;—and the inductions of sound philosophy harmonize with the impressions of the man, who, feeling his own moral necessities, yields his cordial assent to this mystery of God, and seeks in its provisions his peace in the life that now is, and his hope for the life that is to come.
From the whole mental condition, thus slightly delineated, there will naturally arise a character and conduct adapted to the feelings and principles which rule within. This implies, as we have seen, a due regulation of the desires, and a habitual direction of them to objects of real and adequate importance,—a diligent cultivation and exercise of all the affections,—and a conduct distinguished, in the highest degree, by purity, integrity, veracity, and active benevolence. It implies a profound submission to the will of the Almighty, which puts to silence every murmuring or repining thought under any dispensation of his providence. It comprehends the habitual suppression of every selfish principle, and the constant aspiration after a state of moral feeling, which proposes to itself no lower standard than that which will bear the inspection of a being of infinite purity. This character seems to correspond with that high tone of morals enjoined in the sacred writings. Its elements are defined and clear;—would we seek to estimate its sublimity and its truth, we have only to compare it with those distorted and temporizing systems which have resulted from the inventions of men. A feeling of dissatisfaction, the same in kind, though it may differ in degree, will attach to them all; and there is none in which we can confidently rest, until we rise to the sublime morality of the gospel. That great system of ethical purity comes to us under the sanction of divine revelation, and established by the miraculous evidence by which the proof of this is conveyed; but it is independent of any other support than that which it carries in itself,—consistency with the character of God,—and harmony with the best feelings of man. In yielding an absolute consent to its supreme authority, we require no external evidence. We have only to look at the record in its own majestic simplicity, tried by the highest inductions of the philosophy of the moral feelings, to enable us to point to the morality of the gospel, and to say with unshrinking confidence,—this is truth.
If we would seek for that, which must be of all conceivable things of the highest moment both for the peace and the improvement of the moral being, it is to be found in the habit of mind, in which there is the uniform contemplation of the divine character, with a constant reliance on the guidance of the Almighty in every action of life. "One thing," says an inspired writer, "have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple."—The man, who thus cultivates the habitual impression of the divine presence, lives in an atmosphere peculiarly his own. The storms which agitate the lower world may blow around or beneath, but they touch not him;—as the traveller has seen from the mountain's top the war of elements below, while he stood in unclouded sunshine. In the works, and ways, and perfections of the Eternal One, he finds a subject of exalted contemplation, in comparison with which the highest inquiries of human science sink into insignificance. It is an exercise, also, which tends at once to elevate and to purify the mind. It raises us from the minor concerns and transient interests which are so apt to occupy us,—to that wondrous field in which "worlds on worlds compose one universe,"—and to that mind which bade them move in their appointed orbits, and maintains them all in undeviating harmony. While it thus teaches us to bend in humble adoration before a wisdom which we cannot fathom, and a power which we cannot comprehend, it directs our attention to a display of moral attributes which at once challenge our reverence and demand our imitation. By thus leading us to compare ourselves with the supreme excellence, it tends to produce true humility, and, at the same time, that habitual aspiration after moral improvement which constitutes the highest state of man. "The proud," says an eloquent writer, "look down upon the earth, and see nothing that creeps upon its surface more noble than themselves;—the humble look upwards to their God." This disposition of mind, so far from being opposed to the acquirements of philosophy, sits with peculiar grace upon the man who, through the most zealous cultivation of human science, ascends to the Eternal Cause. The farther he advances in the wonders of nature, the higher he rises in his adoration of the power and the wisdom which guide the whole;—"Where others see a sun, he sees a Deity." And then, in every step of life, whether of danger, distress, or difficulty, the man who cultivates this intercourse with the incomprehensible One "inquires in his temple." He inquires for the guidance of divine wisdom, and the strength of divine aid, in his progress through the state of moral discipline;—he inquires, in a peculiar manner, for this aid in the culture of his moral being, when he views this mighty undertaking in its important reference to the life which is to come;—he inquires for a discernment of the ways of Divine Providence, as he either feels it in his own concerns, or views it in the chain of events which are going on in the world around him. He learns to trace the whole to the same unerring hand which guides the planet in its course; and thus rests in the absolute conviction that the economy of Providence is one great and magnificent system of design and order and harmony. These, we repeat with confidence, are no visions of the imagination, but the sound inductions of a calm and rational philosophy. They are conclusions which compel the assent of every candid inquirer, when he follows out that investigation of mighty import,—what is God,—and what is that essence in man which he has endowed with the power of rising to himself.
To enlarge upon these important subjects would lead us away from the proper design of a work, which is intended chiefly to investigate the light we derive from the phenomena of the mind itself. The points which have been stated, as arising out of the impressions of every sound understanding, challenge the assent of all who believe in a present and presiding Deity,—a being of infinite power and wisdom, and of perfect purity. With him who calls in question this sublime truth, we have no common feeling, and no mutual premises on which an argument can be founded. We must therefore leave him to sit in solitary pride, while he views the chaos which his fancy has framed, and strives to reconcile the discordant elements of a system, in which there are effects without a cause, and harmony without a regulating power; and in which the mind can perceive no element of credibility, consistency, or truth.
With this slight outline, therefore, we must quit a subject of the deepest interest, but which belongs rather to the theologian than to the inquirer in mental science;—and proceed briefly to investigate the means by which the condition of the moral feelings, which has been the subject of the preceding observations, may be promoted and cultivated as the regulating principle of the whole character. Two views may be taken of this point, which, though they harmonize with each other in practice, are to be considered in their philosophical aspect as distinct.
The restoration of man from a state of estrangement, anarchy, or moral death, we are taught in the sacred writings to refer to a power from without the mind,—an influence directly from God. We have seen the various considerations derived from the phenomena of the mind, and our impressions of the divine character, giving to this great doctrine a probability which claims the assent of every correct understanding. But, without in any degree losing sight of the truth and the importance of this principle, the immediate object of our attention, as a branch of mental science, is rather the process of the mind itself, by means of which a habitual influence is produced upon the whole character. This is a compound operation which may probably be analysed in the following manner. It seems to be composed of reason,—attention,—and a modification of conception. The province of Reason is to examine the truth of the statements or doctrines, which are proposed to the mind, as calculated to act upon its moral feelings;—and, upon this being done in a correct manner, must depend the validity of the subsequent parts of the mental process. This being premised, it is the office of Attention, aided by reason, to direct the mind assiduously to the truths, so as fully to perceive their relations and tendencies. By the farther process, analogous to Conception, they are then placed before us, in such a manner as to give them the effect of real and present existence. By these means, truths relating to things for which we have not the evidence of our senses, or referring to events which are future, but fully expected to happen, are kept before the mind, and influence the moral feelings and the character, in the same manner as if the facts believed were actually seen, or the events expected were taking place in our view. This mental operation is Faith;—and, for the sound exercise of it, the constituent elements now mentioned are essentially necessary. The truth must be received by the judgment upon adequate evidence; and, by the other parts of the process, it must be so kept before the mind, that it may exercise such a moral influence as might arise from the actual vision or present existence, of the things believed.