longer understood the folly of its early wisdom. Many indeed imagine, that faith, humility, and unbounded trust in the Lord, are nothing else than killing our energies, nay the faculty of thinking, and consequently withdraw in anger or in trembling from that work of regeneration, which, nevertheless speaks sometimes from afar indirectly to their insensible hearts. Unhappy men! This so much dreaded faith would first elevate their capacities to energies and kindle new lights and flames in their spirits. Without him, the revealed Christ, no sense in profound thought, no spirit in history, no consolation in nature and no peculiarity in our existence. Art, love, humour, who possesses him, they are then free play-fellows. How joyous, sweet, yea intoxicating and full of merriment, cheerful, and smiling does Christianity appear through all the genuine works of modern art, how blessed and pleasing are they, when in the greatness and fulness of the old world, yet like a spirit of gentle melancholy that
