ost clearly all
spiritual relations; which affords the most distinct apprehension of the
permanence and universality of the Gospel; which discerns how its
promises are ratified, its threatenings confirmed, its truths
corroborated by all other spiritual influences, by all the results of
human experience, and all the developments of Providence,--must be the
best adapted to the needs and capabilities of an ever-expanding and
immortal spirit. That mode of belief which adapts itself to all times
and circumstances, and which is independent of all influences but those
which are unfailing, must be the truest and best: and such a faith
actually exists in those views of Christianity under which it appears
as simple and diffusive as natural religion.

The Greenlander, who sees how rapidly all natural influences combine to
enhance the bloom of his transient summer, recognizes the same
attributes of Providence as the philosopher who marks the expansion of
mind under the vicissitudes of events: both are natural religionists.
The great truths of Christianity may be also common to both. The
Greenlander loses the wife of his bosom, and wanders on the icy shore to
watch if any skiff traverses the horizon, to bring him tidings from the
world of spirits; he listens to the sullen roar of the waves and the
moaning of the wind, in the intense hope that the voice of a spirit may
mingle with their murmurs. The philosopher who has suffered bereavement
feels a similar want, though his yearnings are differently expressed.
His reason is adjured, and not his senses, to yield evidence of a life
beyond the grave; and the intellect of the one is as intently fixed as
the eye and ear of the other on whatever may bring a solution of his
doubts. Is not the main fact of Christianity that which is preeminently
fitted to afford consolation and hope to both? To each in the proportion
in which he is able to receive it? The Greenlander, who believes that
there has been an actual resurrection in proof that all men shall live
after death, is soothed and cheered by hope. He is brave when tossed by
the storms of the ocean or half-buried in a snow-drift, because death is
no longer the fearful thing it was. He is patient when his winter store
of provisions is exhausted and his children ask him for food, because
his faith teaches him that he who can restore the dead from the grave
can preserve the living, though the means may not be immediately
apparent. This faith is