Neither ought we to be surprised if the same word, which was chosen by spiritually-minded men to represent spirituality, should also have been selected by them to represent duration. For, verily, duration is a deep, mysterious, and hidden subject.

We measure off what we call days, and months, and years, by attaching existence to the revolutions of the celestial spheres. We make them unto us measures of being; "for signs, and for seasons, and for days and years." We call this measurement time, and feel as if we had, in this name, definite ideas of absolute duration. But duration itself lies far above, beneath, and beyond these measurements of material existence. It is an immense deep, an unsearchable abyss, which the lead and line of the mariner can fathom as soon and as easily as the mind of the philosopher. "What was time, before the planetary system, which measures it, had an existence? And what will time be, when these heavens and this earth shall be blotted out ? " * In every deep contemplation of duration in itself, all period, succession, and every subject by which we think to measure it, vanishes away, and the mind is conscious of nothing but simple, and, at the same time, incomprehensible existence alone, perceived, but not comprehended. A secret subject, of course, and one which may be properly represented by a term originally expressive of that which is hidden. A subject discernible only by the mind, and therefore spiritual.

In truth duration is a subject so spiritual, that even in regard to that mode of it which we call time, philosophers of repute have affirmed it to be a mere creation of the mind; that, if there were no intellectual beings to create it, there would be no time. And their antagonists have never yet been able to prove them in the wrong. What is time but idea, created by the mind acting on the apparent motion of the heavens? And what is idea, but that which is spiritual? † In short, duration and spirituality possess so many characteristics in common; they have so near a kindred, that

* Professor Stuart.

† "It appears to me," says Proclus, "that they who thus denominated time χρόνος, had this conception of its nature [i. e. intellectual], and were therefore willing to call it as it were χορεύοντος νοῦς, an intellect moving in measure, but, dividing the words, perhaps, for the sake of concealment, they called it χρόνος." – Taylor's Transl.

but few forms of speech can be employed with respect to the one, which may not apply to the other also. Especially, is this the case with respect to duration considered as separate from those apparent motions of the universe, by which we think to measure it. Speak of a thing as enduring thus, and it immediately is divested of all material association; it instantly becomes spiritual. It is resolved into a secret, mysterious, spiritual thing; and the same terms which speak of its secret mode of duration, will be often employed, when naming its secret spirituality of nature. It is, therefore, in exact conformity with the usages of language, that a word originally expressive of secrecy, something hidden, or mysterious, like the Hebrew עולם should also, be employed to represent such abstruse ideas as both duration and spirituality; even though a term significant of breathing, be also employed to represent one of them.

נעלם

Professor Stuart seems to feel as if he had refuted any suggestion of this kind, in the following remark; - "Is there nothing mysterious or unsearchable, but spirit? For example ; the powers of nature, gravitation; electricity, magnetism, the principles of vegetation, etc.; is there no נעלם" ]occult thing] "here?” There, certainly, is a in all these things, and many others. And it is more than man can do, to prove that this נעלם is not spirit. Human nature is so ready to conceive of it so, that, for many ages, men who sought and obtained any acquaintance with these secrecies, were believed to have held communion with the spiritual world. Professors of the occult, were, in the common mind, associates with spirits. This, to be sure, does not prove it to have been so. But it does prove, that the human mind is ever ready to think of the occult נעלם as being of a spiritual nature, and to use words expressive of such secrecy, in order to signify that which is spiritual. We do the same, now; as when we speak of one's secret life, existence, or state, and mean the spiritual by the secret.

But it happens, singularly enough, that the very נעלם [occult], which Professor Stuart brings to view, in his examples above produced, was called, in ancient time, by the same name, and considered as the same thing as πνεῦμα [spirit]. Aristotle is my witness;

De Mundo, Cap. 4. Vol. II. p. 605, E. This [sc. wind] is nothing more than air in rapid motion and condensed; which is

also called SPIRIT [πνεῦμα]. But, in another respect, that ESSENCE is called SPIRIT which is in all vegetables, and animals, and extends through all things, vivifying and prolific. [Λέγεται δὲ καὶ ἑτέρως πνεῦμα, ἥτε ἐν φυτοῖς, καὶ ζώοις, καὶ, διὰ πάντων διήκοῦσα, ἔμψυχός τε καὶ γόνιμός οὐσία].

Here, the secret principle of vegetation, and of animal life are particularly named, as spirit; and to those acquainted with Aristotle's mind, there needs no reasoning, to prove, that that secret principle which binds the universe together, which we call gravitation (and know about as much concerning its nature as he did), the secret principle of lightning which we call electricity, or the secret principle of polar attraction which we call magnetism (if this last were known at all in his day), were, equally, spirit [πνεῦμα] in his view, as well as those occult powers which he expressly calls SO. Nor, would it greatly disturb my own philosophy, should the time arrive, when they will again be spirit, in the minds of men, and be, once more, called by that name. As to the Stagirite, and the ancients with him, it is clear, that every occult essence is comprised in the comprehensive phrase, διὰ πάντων διήκουσα ..... οὐσία, – the essence extending through all things, - and is, therefore, spirit.

I may afford, and willingly render, thanks to Professor Stuart, for giving me this opportunity to show, how readily a sense of spirituality associates itself with every thing secret or mysterious; and, how nearly akin was the πνεῦμα ]spirit] of the Greeks, to the נעלם occult of the Hebrews. And, may I not, also, give thanks to the sage of Stagira, for the prompt, and efficient witness, he has borne in my behalf; not only now, but elsewhere, and abundantly, in this inquiry. Peace be to his venerable shade; and my filial blessing on his spirit, as he returns to his rest, without saying unto me in wrath, "Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?"

Thus far, we have seen, that the common testimonies for the meaning of words, give us no reason to expect the sense of eternity in עולם ; saving so far as this may be considered as one mode of secret, hidden, or sealed duration; which is far short of that which, certainly, has neither beginning nor end; and even of that which has no end alone.

We have, also, seen, thus far, that these witnesses lead us, directly, to expect the sense of spirituality in this word. It remains, that we ascertain, whether the actual usage of the term in question supports either of these meanings, and, if so, how far.

עולם

In such an inquiry, it will be necessary to examine passages of Scripture, in sufficient number to exhibit its prevailing habit. According to Professor Stuart's rule, and a good one, we must take "the Concordance," and endeavour, " in each case, to determine the meaning of the word" "from the connexion in which it stands." But, having occupied as many pages, as can be devoted, at once, to an inquiry of this nature, I defer the further investigation to another opportunity.

Yours in good will,

Sandwich, Mass., Oct. 1, 1832.

E. S. GOODWIN.

ART. VII. - The Christian Monitor. New Series. Vol. I. Published by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, Piety, and Charity. Boston. S. G. Simpkins. 1832. 24mo. pp. 163.

In all improvement, whether religious, intellectual, or political, there is a period of danger. It is the period which intervenes between the laying aside of old ideas, maxims, and usages, and the adoption of new ones. It is the intermediate state between bondage and freedom, between superstition and reflection, between formality and simplicity, between traditional and implicit faith and the results of liberal investigation. Men must have some ideas in which to confide, and some principles on which to fix their affections; and they must have some institutions and usages to excite their attention and to quicken their virtues. And therefore, if they have let go one set of principles and habits, and have not taken hold upon another, they are afloat upon an unstable element; their minds will be apt to want steadiness and sobriety; they will be liable, in their religious speculations, to pursue phantoms rather than realities, and vagaries rather than certain truths. But phantoms and vagaries are not guiding principles; they will not serve to educate the mind, to lead it to knowledge, piety, and happiuess. The influence of settled truths and fixed usages is needed for this purpose. Better a faulty system for the mind, than no system.

Now it is under this negative, this no-system dispensation, that an unprecedented number of minds are, in this age, growing up and acting their part. It is so in the domestic discipline. The old rigor is laid aside by many, the strict rule and plan for children are abolished, and nothing is adopted in their stead. The ideas of many parents, on the whole subject of the early nurture and discipline of childhood, are extremely vague. Consequently, their course is wavering. Now, they lean to strictness, and then, to indulgence. They cannot follow, for instance, the old way of teaching religion to their children, and they have not systematically taken up any new and better way. Between the two plans they pursue no plan; and their children are liable to grow up, obeying no rule, and reverencing no institution, that is either hallowed by time, or made holier by the adoption of reason and conscience. So it is, again, on the great scale of the world's education. In religion, France exhibits a striking picture of a nation fallen into the perilous interval between worn-out bigotry and rational faith. Beyond all examples of Pagan, Mahometan, or Christian history, it is a nation without religion. And we have seen private letters from some of their most distinguished philosophers and philanthropists seriously maintaining, to our astonishment we must confess, that the old superstition must die away entirely, before it will be time to begin the work of building up a new system of religious principles. In politics, England and Germany are in a state of ferment and of indefinite change, from which wise men hope much indeed, but from which they cannot help fearing much. We say, indefinite change; for after all that is written about civil liberty in these days, we apprehend, that, among the impatient and struggling multitudes of the old world, the most vague and unsettled ideas prevail, of what they would do or have. They are dissatisfied with their condition; and instead of attempting gradual and definite changes, or of proposing distinct and well-ascertained objects, they are, the most of them, we fear, but too willing to blot out all charters, and prescriptions, and principles, and to rush into the chaos of universal disorder and anarchy. There is, at the same time, an onward