class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="p. 12" id="pgepubid00019"/>But when once that prayer was uttered, the Rubicon was crossed, and the principle of saint-worship established in the Church.  Hence you find the guardian saints and angels of the Church of Rome filling exactly the same office as the tutelary deities of the Heathen.  And, as we have just remarked the identity of Pagan and Roman image-worship as illustrated by the alteration of the image, so there is another curious fact which exhibits the similar correspondence between the hero-worship of the ancients and the saint-worship of modern Rome.  When the Emperor Phocas issued his celebrated edict in recognition of the supremacy of the See of Rome, he made a present to the Pope of the ancient temple named Pantheon.  Now this temple was originally dedicated to Cybele, and all the Pagan gods, and when it fell into the possession of the Pope, he made as slight a change as possible, for he just turned it over to the Virgin Mary and all the saints.  The principle was left untouched, though the objects of the idolatry were changed.

But there is a yet further principle involved in this saint and virgin worship; for the human heart requires tenderness and sympathy, so that we can never breathe out our secret burden to one who has no fellow-feeling with our trouble.  We want the sympathy of a common nature, if not the tenderness of a woman’s heart.  Hence in Heathen systems you constantly find a Heathen goddess to whom pertains especially the office of patronage and mercy.  Even Simon Magus had his Helena in his system of Gnosticism; and the poor Buddhist, while he looks with awe to his three Buddhas, has his Kwan-yin, or Goddess of Mercy, to whom he may appeal in trouble.  Yes! the human heart needs tenderness, and if there is any one aspect in the Gospel more glorious than another, it is the rich provision made for this very want.  There never was a scheme so wonderful, or a Saviour so perfect as that presented in the Gospel.  Glorious in his divinity, he sways heaven’s mighty sceptre, while, perfect in his humanity, he can be tenderly touched with the faintest cry of human grief.  He governs angels, and weeps with men.  But the natural man is a stranger to this sympathy; yet he longs for it and feels the need of it.  He is exposed to the shocks and buffetings of this rough world, and his bleeding heart needs a friend who himself has bled.  If he has not Christ, therefore, he naturally craves a substitute; something which may give him the sense of sympathy amongst the unseen powers.  And this desire has gradually run into saint and virgin worship.  It has taken hold of the hero-worship of the Heathen, and given it a Christian character by transferring it to the Virgin and the saints.  It does not do away with Christ, but provides a system of intermediate mediation which commends itself to the aching heart by the assurance of a woman’s love and a fellow-sufferer’s compassion.  Hence, if any particular saint was subject during life to any especial trial, he is supposed to take a peculiar interest in those who labour under similar affliction.  Nor can you read much of the adoration paid by Rome to the Virgin without perceiving that she is the Kwan-yin, the Goddess of Mercy, in the Romish system.  There is a halo of awe thrown around the brow of the Redeemer, while the Virgin is described in the attitude of tenderness, “the comforter of the afflicted,” “the refuge of the sinner,” and the ready listener to the sufferer’s cry.  We will adduce one instance in illustration, as given by Mr. Tyler in his valuable little work “What is Romanism?”  The worship of the Virgin is especially celebrated in Romish countries during the month of May, and there is a collection of religious poems used in the churches of Paris on these occasions.  One of these is as follows:—

“Vouchsafe, Mary, on this day to hear our sighs and second our desires.  Vouchsafe, Mary, on this day to receive our incense, our love: Of thy heavenly husband calm the rage.  Let him shew himself kind to all those that are thine!  Of thy heavenly husband calm the rage: Let his heart be softened towards us.”

Here God is presented in the attitude of terror, while the female advocate is the sole depository of grace; and the whole springs from the natural heart, which, under the sense of sin, feels a dread of God; and longing for sympathy, appeals to a woman’s love.

III.  Holiness.

We may lay it down as a fundamental axiom, that there can be no religion without holiness.  Whatever be our doctrinal opinions, if we be not holy we cannot see the Lord.  And, accordingly, holiness is the great gift of a risen Saviour to his Church.  He has shed forth the Holy Ghost to purify our hearts by faith.  Now, in this Christian holiness there are two or three leading features to be carefully observed.  (1.) It is not a plant which grows naturally in the human heart, but is the especial work of the Holy Ghost himself.  (2.) It consists in a sacred principle which controls the whole man, and not in any one class either of actions or omissions.  (3.) This ruling principle is the constraining power of the love of Christ.  “The love of Christ constraineth us.”  From which remarks it appears at once that true holiness is from its very nature impossible to the unconverted man.  He is not under the influence of the Spirit; he does not know the love of Christ, and he is, therefore, incapable of that hallowed principle which shall bend his whole mind in one direction, and wean him from sin by the consecration of his whole man to God.  Hence, the unconverted man, if thoughtful and conscientious, is sure to feel distressed.  A holy standard is presented to his view, while his conscience convicts him of lamentable defect.  He sees there must be necessity, but has not felt its power.  He sees there must be holiness, but he knows he is not holy.  He is aware that without righteousness there can be no true religion, but he sees so much sin within his heart that he cannot believe himself righteous.

What, then, is to be done?  What is the refuge of the human heart under such circumstances?  Either he must stifle conscience, which is impossible, or he must embrace the Gospel, in which case he would find joy in the Holy Ghost, or he must so accommodate that Gospel as to soothe his heart without changing it, which accommodation is Popery.  And how is this effected?

One mode is by ritualism.

There are two great classes of Christian duties combined in the formation of Christian holiness—moral and positive; moral being the general effect of Christian principle, positive consisting in certain Christian acts.  Now it is plainly in respect to these moral duties or duties of Christian principle that the natural heart finds the chief difficulty, and the outward acts of a ceremonial religion are incomparably easier than the holy dedication of a devoted heart.  Hence it follows that the human heart is naturally prone to slide insensibly from the principle to the ritual, and to endeavour to compensate the defects of the one by a rigid attention to the requirements of the other.  By such an accommodation no part of Divine truth is professedly set aside, but yet, by altering the proportions of the several parts, by throwing a strong light on one side of the picture, and a deep shade on the other, its whole character is completely changed, and religion is given to the natural man though his heart is left unsanctified by the Spirit.

This tendency to substitute ritual for principle may be daily seen in every society.  One thinks himself holy because he has kept his church; another, because he is a regular communicant; a third, because he attends daily service; a fourth, because he never neglects to say his prayers; while a fifth is