We aim to present in the Unitarian Advocate the simplicity of the christian faith. We would illustrate its principles and enforce its requisitions. Writers, differing in profession, cast of mind, and theological research, must of course be expected to contemplate Christianity under aspects that somewhat differ; but we shall all discover wisdom, I am persuaded, in availing ourselves of the characters and developements of its own records. may thus impart to our discussions more of ease, perspicuity, and attraction. The voice of truth will salute the mind, not from the vacancy of abstraction, but from the visible and breathing form of life. While the details of revelation possess so much of a dramatic interest, we shall do well to remember and sometimes to imitate this excellence of composition, the nature and raciness of an earlier age. To a superficial observer, a mere smatterer in literature, the colors of this manner of writing may appear too simple and unelaborate, but familiarity with its colloquial spirit, while it renders the eye more exqui

site in discerning, seems almost to create materials of admiration. This familiar acquaintance with the peculiarities of the Bible style may be compared to the effect of heat on a certain kind of painting. Over the modest lineaments of simplicity it breathes, like dew, the freshness of inimitable beauty. The warmth of examination brings out the loveliness it admires.

The interview of Jesus with the woman of Samaria exemplifies the justness of these remarks. It forms, indeed, one of the most vivid pictures of the gospel history. The feelings of the country and the period of the world stand embodied before us. When we hear this female observe, 'Our fathers worshipped on this mountain and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship,' we involuntarily exclaim: Such is the prompting of a sectarian spirit, and such is the voice of an exclusive worshipper.

The import of this observation, as most of my readers perceive, leads me to the consideration of a very important topic; a topic indeed, in these days of unchristian bitterness, claiming a preeminence of regard. I mean religious freedom or christian liberty. In the spirit and voice of the Samaritan woman, you hear one denomination of Christians proclaim to another, Our fathers embraced the faith and worship of this form of Christianity, and do you presume to assert, that in any other form are the faith and worship that men ought to embrace?

In developing this subject, I purpose to answer these two questions: What is that christian liberty, that religious freedom, of which the gospel secures to us the

enjoyment? And, what are the causes, that this religious liberty, this christian freedom, is with so much reluctance acknowledged?

1. To ascertain, in the first place, what is this grand prerogative of Christians, let us repair to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.

As I have already intimated, to feel the force of this female's assertion or inquiry-indeed to appreciate the power and exquisite propriety of no small proportion of scripture we must regard the circumstances of time and place. In imagination, therefore, the reader will accompany me from America to Palestine, from New England to Samaria. And what do we there behold, in the Holy Land, the scene of the interview to which I have made allusion? Between mount Ebal and mount Gerizim, forty miles north of Jerusalem, we behold a green valley, the valley of Sychar or Shechem, two hundred paces wide. These two hundred paces, or forty rods, form the only interval from the foot of mount Ebal on the south, to the foot of mount Gerizim on the north. On each side of this valley, we see the two mountains rise high and perpendicular; and we feel the suggestion enter our mind, that in some unrecorded age they were disunited by the hand of the Almighty. In this valley of the mountains, we perceive an inconsiderable city, and at some distance we observe indications of a fountain or well. With immense labor, this well is formed in a solid rock, or rather sunk into it. Its dimensions are nine feet in diameter and one hundred and five in depth. It is the noon of a day resembling the

May or June of our northern climate, four months preceding harvest.*

Resting on the margin of this well, we see a solitary traveller, wearied with his journey. His companions have gone to the city to purchase provision.-And who is that weary stranger? who is that lonely traveller there awaiting their return? Ah! look upon his mild and majestic countenance; view his uncovered brow, serene and yet awful, his eye beaming with love and energy of soul, his mysterious and godlike mien; and tell me if you know the man! Believe me, if you are ever happy one day on earth, if you are ever happy in heaven, it must be through your intimacy and friendship with that stranger. Commissioned by the Supreme Being, he is now on his way to your home and your heart. He would persuade you to believe in his mission; he would thus save you from your sins; and to all who obey him, he will be the author of eternal salvation.

But observe farther. More remains to be seen and heard. A female approaches from yonder Samaritan city. With her bucket and line in her hand, according to the custom of the east, she comes to draw water.

With mild sweetness the stranger addresses her: Will you allow me to drink?

Then the Samaritan woman makes answer: Why do you, being a Jew, ask drink of me who am a Samaritan? You must be aware, that in some points our views of faith differ; you cannot be insensible, that we are not

*The harvest month in Palestine is April. The time of this interview must therefore have been not far from the opening of our year.

accustomed to friendly intercourse, to any interchanges of civility or kindness,--not even to drinking out of the same vessel.

The stranger replies with calm dignity: If you knew the bounty of God, and who the person is that says to you, 'Allow me to drink,' you would ask of him, and he would give you... living water.

She answers: Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Whence then have you that living water? How do you procure that running or spring-water? Are you greater than Jacob, our father? He gave us the well. He drank of it himself, his children, and his cattle.

The stranger replies: Whoever drinks of this water, will thirst again; but whosoever shall drink of the water, which I shall offer him, will never thirst more. It shall be a fountain within him; not flowing for his temporal comfort alone, but springing up for an everlasting life.

The woman then says to him, perhaps with a smile of incredulity: Sir, give me this marvellous water you mention, that I may never be thirsty, nor be obliged to come hither to draw.

Finding her too dull to understand his figurative language, he says to her: Go, call your husband, and come back.

She answers, I have no husband.

The stranger replies: You say well, I have no husband; for you have had five, and he whom you now have, is not your husband. In this you speak truth.

The woman then says: Sir, I perceive that you are