y of the race."

Tennyson, we have no doubt, had this thought of his friend in his mind,
in the following lines; it is an answer to the question, Can man by
searching find out God?--

"I found Him not in world or sun,
Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;
Nor thro' the questions men may try,
The petty cobwebs we have spun:

"If e'er when faith had fallen asleep,
I heard a voice 'believe no more,'
And heard an ever-breaking shore
That tumbled in the godless deep;

"_A warmth within the breast would melt_
The freezing reason's colder part,
_And like a man in wrath, the heart_
_Stood up and answered, 'I have felt._'

"No, like a child in doubt and fear:
But that blind clamor made me wise;
Then was I as a child that cries,
But, crying, knows his father near;

"And what I seem beheld again
What is, and no man understands:
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men."

This is a subject of the deepest personal as well as speculative
interest. In the works of Augustin, of Baxter, Howe, and Jonathan
Edwards, and of Alexander Knox, our readers will find how large a place
the religious affections held, in their view of Divine truth as well as
of human duty. The last-mentioned writer expresses himself thus:--"Our
sentimental faculties are far stronger than our cogitative; and the best
impressions on the latter will be but the moonshine of the mind, if they
are alone. Feeling will be best excited by sympathy; rather, it cannot
be excited in any other way. Heart must act upon heart--the idea of a
living person being essential to all intercourse of heart. You cannot by
any possibility _cordialize_ with a mere _ens rationis_. 'The Word was
made flesh, and dwelt among us,' otherwise we could not 'have beheld his
glory,' much less 'received of his fulness.'"[40]

[40] _Remains_, vol. iii. p. 105.

Our young author thus goes on:--

"This opens upon us an ampler view in which the subject deserves
to be considered, and a relation still more direct and close
between the Christian religion and the passion of love. What is
the distinguishing character of Hebrew literature, which
separates it by so broad a line of demarcation from that of
every ancient people? Undoubtedly the sentiment of _erotic
devotion_ which pervades it. Their poets never represent the
Deity as an impassive principle, a mere organizing