emonial. Its gorgeous display and solemn rites fascinate the
senses of the people, and silence the voice of reason and of conscience.
The eye is charmed. Magnificent churches, imposing processions, golden
altars, jeweled shrines, choice paintings, and exquisite sculpture appeal
to the love of beauty. The ear also is captivated. The music is
unsurpassed. The rich notes of the deep-toned organ, blending with the
melody of many voices as it swells through the lofty domes and pillared
aisles of her grand cathedrals, cannot fail to impress the mind with awe
and reverence.

[Interior of a church.]

This outward splendor, pomp, and ceremony, that only mocks the longings of
the sin-sick soul, is an evidence of inward corruption. The religion of
Christ needs not such attractions to recommend it. In the light shining
from the cross, true Christianity appears so pure and lovely that no
external decorations can enhance its true worth. It is the beauty of
holiness, a meek and quiet spirit, which is of value with God.

Brilliancy of style is not necessarily an index of pure, elevated thought.
High conceptions of art, delicate refinement of taste, often exist in
minds that are earthly and sensual. They are often employed by Satan to
lead men to forget the necessities of the soul, to lose sight of the
future, immortal life, to turn away from their infinite Helper, and to
live for this world alone.

A religion of externals is attractive to the unrenewed heart. The pomp and
ceremony of the Catholic worship has a seductive, bewitching power, by
which many are deceived; and they come to look upon the Roman Church as
the very gate of heaven. None but those who have planted their feet firmly
upon the foundation of truth, and whose hearts are renewed by the Spirit
of God, are proof against her influence. Thousands who have not an
experimental knowledge of Christ will be led to accept the forms of
godliness without the power. Such a religion is just what the multitudes
desire.

The church's claim to the right to pardon, leads the Romanist to feel at
liberty to sin; and the ordinance of confession, without which her pardon
is not granted, tends also to give license to evil. He who kneels before
fallen man, and opens in confession the secret thoughts and imaginations
of his heart, is debasing his manhood, and degrading every noble instinct
of his soul. In unfolding the sins of his life to a priest,--an erring,
sinfu