tter, our souls wax dull, and the
attributes of the Deity are but as mere names. Those attributes cannot,
indeed, be exalted by poetry. "The perfection of God cannot be
improved"--nor was it worthy of so wise a man so to speak; but while the
Creator abideth in His own incomprehensible Being, the creature, too
willing to crawl blind and hoodwinked along the earth, like a worm, may
be raised by the voice of the charmer, "some sweet singer of Israel,"
from his slimy track, and suddenly be made to soar on wings up into the
ether.

Would Dr Johnson have declared the uselessness of Natural Theology? On
the same ground he must have done so, to preserve consistency in his
doctrine. Do we, by exploring wisdom, and power, and goodness, in all
animate and inanimate creation, exalt Omnipotence, amplify infinity, or
improve perfection? We become ourselves exalted by such divine
contemplations--by knowing the structure of a rose-leaf or of an
insect's wing. We are reminded of what, alas! we too often forget, and
exclaim, "Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name!" And
while science explores, may not poetry celebrate the glories and the
mercies of our God?

The argument against which we contend gets weaker and weaker as it
proceeds--the gross misconception of the nature of poetry on which it is
founded becomes more and more glaring--the paradoxes, dealt out as
confidently as if they were self-evident truths, more and more repulsive
alike to our feelings and our understandings. "The employments of pious
meditation are faith, thanksgiving, repentance, and supplication. Faith,
invariably uniform, cannot be invested by fancy with decorations.
Thanksgiving, though the most joyful of all holy effusions, yet
addressed to a Being superior to us, is confined to a few modes, and is
to be felt rather than expressed. Repentance, trembling in the presence
of the Judge, is not at leisure for cadences and epithets. Supplication
to men may diffuse itself through many topics of persuasion; but
supplication to God can only cry for mercy." What a vain attempt
authoritatively to impose upon the common sense of mankind! Faith is not
invariably uniform. To preserve it unwavering--unquaking--to save it
from lingering or from sudden death--is the most difficult service to
which the frail spirit--frail even in its greatest strength--is called
every day--every hour--of this troubled, perplexing, agitating, and
often most unintelligible life! "Lib