burthen of CHRIST becomes heavier and heavier, in that very same proportion does the giant's strength wax greater and greater. It is not Christians only, but Christian empires also, which “can do all things through CHRIST which strengtheneth them."

This is the alliance of Church and State.

But as the giant's strength continued only so long as that SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD was seated on his shoulders, so is the strength of nations. When that alliance is once dissolved, when the LORD has once removed His Candlestick, taken His Church from that guardianship and transferred it to another, the perishable human element which derived its whole power from its spiritual ally, just as the body of man derives its whole power of life and motion from the unseen soul; once deprived of that source of light and life, crumbles again into the original dust from which it was taken.

Where is the great and magnificent empire of Charlemagne now? it did run well. That it once fought a good fight for the faith of CHRIST, witness the Council of Frankfort, and the triumph of Alcuin; and what hath hindered it?

Where too is that great empire of Spain, that had the mission of CHRIST to the heathen entrusted to its keeping; that had new worlds opened to its enterprise, the wealth of the globe added to its treasures, and upon whose dominions, as it proudly boasted, the sun never set?

Where is it now? its service was faithless, its mission was unfulfilled; the heathen entrusted to its charge were only nominally converted; it had the form of godliness without the power. It was not worthy of that alliance; it was not worthy to bear the light of CHRIST to the worlds which CHRIST had given to it; and so that light was removed; and where is now the perishing body divorced. from its immortal soul? Talk of regenerating Spain! talk of restoring the boundaries of Charlemagne! not till you have raised the dead!

And there is another empire upon whose dominions the sun never sets; there is another people whose monarchs are kings of the east, and lords of the west, and sovereigns of the far south. There is another nation which sees now, what till these days has never yet been seen by mortal man; her flag flying over the whole world, her foot planted firmly in all its four quarters. That nation has now received its mission in the Church of CHRIST, and its mission is, besides the general diffusion of the Gospel throughout the world, to preserve unimpaired, and to transmit to other countries where it has been debased, an undoubted apostolical succession, a manifestly authorised stewardship of CHRIST'S mysteries; THAT nation bears now upon its shoulders the SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD, and it has grown in strength, in wisdom, and in stature, under its burthen. The popular song says no more than the literal truth

"It is but a little spot,

But 'tis first in the blazing roll of fame,
And who dare say it is not ?"

It is so. Did you ever read about the fall of the Rossberg ? there is a moral in it if we would but lay it to heart.

Some few miles from the beautiful city of Lucerne, just on that point where the broad and fertile low country of Switzerland rises into the rugged barrier of the Alps, and partakes at once the fertility of the one and the grandeur of the other, stood some fifty years ago the mountain of the Rossberg. In those days it was remarkable, even in that remarkable country; its woods were the most flourishing, its cornland the most fertile, its pastures were the greenest, its cattle the finest, and its name was derived from its breed of horses-it was called the Rossberg, the Horse's Mountain. In what points of its geological formation it differed from other mountains, we need not now inquire, but like the feet of Daniel's image, which were part iron and part clay, it was formed of materials of different degrees of hardness, and therefore naturally incongruous, while its surface was of that light permeable nature which permitted the water to sink through.

Year after year, perhaps century after century, did the slow process of disintegration creep on; year after year did the water penetrate, softly, imperceptibly, drop by drop; year after year was there less cohesion among its particles, as year after year its destruction was drawing nigh. But the woods were as green, the pastures were as fair, the flowers were as bright and beautiful as ever; the sun shone and the dews fell, and man went forth to his work and to his labour until the evening.

And then there was a trembling: the solid earth moved, the corn waved, the leaves shook and quaked upon the trees; the startled inhabitants looked round-but all was still again, and it was soon forgotten.

Again, a low deep groan was heard, a solemn moaning from the earth, but it ceased, and there was nothing.

Then, when the shadows of night were abroad, and deep sleep had fallen upon men; then, when, warnings neglected and cautions disregarded, all around were reposing in all the heedless confidence of habitual security, then there came a shock, a move, a slide, a harsh grating and grinding noise; the walls cracked and shattered, the trees waved, and tottered, and fell; the rocks crashed through the broken soil, and the whole mass rolled, and roared, and rushed, and thundered into the valley below; and there it lies, and will for ever lie, in one vast chaos of undistinguishable ruin, to point its moral to mankind.

For like this is the death of nations. It is no outward violence, no open assault, no conquering army. Brennus may thunder

at the gates of Rome, Napoleon may dictate from the halls of Moscow, and the nation will rise from its ashes, and flourish from its subjugation, just as the palm tree is said to grow the stronger from the weights that are hung about it. It is not that which kills; it is the slow, gradual creeping process of disintegration; it is when civilization, as it is called, advances; when luxuries, with their concomitant selfishness, increase; when classes draw themselves out from each other, and become distinct, and exclusive, and lose their cohesion, and cease to have common interests and common feelings. Then is the destruction of that land impending. Viewed from a distance it may still bear the grand and imposing aspect of one immense and overwhelming nation, but it is in fact already so many distinct and separate little nationalities; they are bound together indeed for the time being, but it is by a band continually wasting in strength, as it is continually lengthened the band of a common residence.

Throughout the whole of this wasting process the surface is undisturbed, the ordinary operations of life are untouched; trade, commerce, agriculture, go on as before; wealth circulates, nay increases; territorial dominion is more extensive; all looks thriving, all looks prosperous; a half-felt trembling, a half-heard groan may warn the heedful; but as far as the mass are concerned, man goeth forth to his work and to his labour," the signs are unseen, the warnings unheeded.

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Now this process of disintegration can never take place in the Church of CHRIST, because if we are all one in Him, we never can be without common interests and common feelings. So neither can it go on in a nation which is identical with the Church of CHRIST, when there is a real not a nominal alliance between Church and State; if we are really one LORD, one faith, one baptism, one GOD, and FATHER of us all, then also we must be one Body and one Spirit, even as we are called in one hope of our calling. It is not till the surface of society is so broken up, that the blessings of gråce, the privileges of the Church, the gifts of CHRIST to man, which, like the rain and the dew, fall from heaven, become like the rain and the dew upon the Rossberg, themselves the sources of division; it is not till the things that should have been for our wealth, are unto us an occasion of falling, and the blessed Sacraments, the Table of the LORD, a snare to take ourselves withal; it is not till sSCHISM has appeared and been fostered in the State, that the process of disintegration can even

commence.

And has this not commenced with us already? Are we what we were even now? The progress is necessarily slow; it is the hour-hand of that great clock of Time whose minutes are years, and whose hours are centuries, and whose warning bell strikes the fall of empires, as one after another they pass away; we cannot

watch that hand, we cannot see it move; but we can look back upon the face of history, and know that it is not where it was. Is there no difference between the customs and feelings of the times gone by, and those of the times in which we live?

Let us see.

Most of us have visited some ancient hall which still preserves its mediæval aspect, and have wondered at the small dark rooms, the scanty furniture, the general appearance of discomfort which marked the private dwelling places of our ancestors; but you observed also there the great hall, with its huge fire-place, and its hospitable buttery hatch, and its long tables. Round those tables sat every day the lord of the manor, and his family, and his friends, and his superior retainers, who, in those days were of rank and family scarcely inferior to his own; and his subordinate followers, his seneschal, his steward, his bailiff, his farm servants and labourers; nay, at the foot of that table there was a place for the wayfaring man and the beggar. All were supplied from the same table; all felt the warmth of the same hearth; all sat round the one mystical salt cellar, and partook alike of that salt, which our SAVIOUR has made the type and emblem of a religion which preserves its people from corruption. Ay, and you saw there too the little chapel, with its solemn and appropriate furniture, where twice every day that same household were again united in common prayer before their common FATHER.

Nor were those bonds of union confined to the great and wealthy; the farmer's labourers were then members of the farmer's family; the merchant then lived with his clerks; the tradesman with his workmen and apprentices; and those who thus constituted the same family, could not fail to live with feelings and with interests in common.

These are the bonds which are now relaxed, the bonds of union which exist no more. The gentry, the farmers and tradespeople, and the labourers, these are three distinct classes now, knowing nothing of each other, and therefore caring nothing. These again are split up into an infinity of sets, according to some real or imaginary rank-some real or imaginary standing in society; such sets are as distinct from one another, as if they spoke different languages, or belonged to different countries; they have no domestic bond of union; they know nothing of one another in private life; if they meet, they part in silence; and foreigners ridicule our English reserve. It is not reserve-it is want of common topics and common interests—IT IS DISINTEGRATION. Want of common topics! want of common interests! Are not these people all members of one SAVIOUR, children of one GOD? Yes; but then come our schisms, our divisions; disintegration has crept in there too, and the very rain of God's grace, the very dew of God's Spirit, divide us still more. Nay, they are the very cause

of division; "the things which should have been for our wealth, are unto us an occasion of falling."

We talk of Church and State, but the alliance has been long dissolved. It was a fact once, and a reality; to us it is a reminiscence or a fiction. The State is not the Church; it was so once, but it is not now. It is now a body very much larger than the Church; it contains within itself, besides the Church, many bodies that are not in communion with her, some that are her absolute antagonists. In former times these were not the State; they were unrepresented in it; they were permitted to reside in the country, no doubt; their existence was tolerated, but they were not the State. Recent laws have made them so. Far be it from: us to say that these laws had not become necessary; they were so. Our own sins, our own schisms, our own divisions, had made them necessary. But, necessary or not, when they were once passed, the State ceased to be the Church. This was God's punishment for our sins of schism. He dissolved the union between Church and State; then and there were they divorced. The kings of England then were no longer the nursing fathers of the Church, nor were the queens its nursing mothers. They could not be; they had now other interests which were not the interests of CHRIST'S Church; they had now other principles to respect which were even antagonistic to it. State policy is not now churchmanship, and cannot be; and this is evident whenever it comes to the trial. The State can pass laws for the civil welfare of the people; but when they touch upon the spiritual, they find their power has left them. Look at the Popish aggression; willing as the State was, what has it done in that? what can it do to defend the Church? the power has gone from it. Look at the education of the people; look at the mass of ignorance and corruption that is growing up around us. The State sees it; the State deplores it; the State would remedy it. Why does it not?—the power has gone from it. It cannot say now, as it said once, "These are the men whom the LORD has commanded to teach,—hear them. These are the truths He has commanded them to impart,-learn them." State has put out of its own power. Whatever be the individual belief and conviction of the component members of the Government, that Government must consult the interests of all the component bodies of the State; so that the very head of the realm,she who, in virtue of the alliance of Church and State, is the temporal head of the Church also, is a Presbyterian in one part of her dominions, and an Episcopalian in another.

This the

There is no fault here in the State; the State cannot do otherwise. Our own schisms, our own divisions have made it necessary; they have converted our very blessings into curses; so that when we see what is right, and would do it, we find that we have lost the power.