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OBSERVATIONS
ON THE
GROWTH OF THE MIND.
BY SAMPSON REED.
Concluded in our next.
All nations, under whatever system of govern
ment, and in whatever state of civilization, are;
under the Divine Providence surely, but almost
imperceptibly, advancing to a moral and political!
order, such as the world has not yet seen. f J hey |
are guided by the same hand, and with a view to
the same destiny. Much remains to be done,
and more to be suffered ; but the end is certain.
The humblest individual may, nay, must aid in the ;
accomplishment of this consummation. It is not;
for time or space to set limits to the effects ot the j
life of a single man. Let then the child be so initi
ated into a knowledge of the condition ol mankind,
that the love at first indulged in the circle of his
father’s family shall gradually subside into a chaste
and sober love of his country ; and of his coun
try, not as opposed to other countries, but as aid
ing them in the same great object. Let the young
mind be warmed and cherished by whatever is
chaste and generous in the mind of the public ;
and be borne on to a knowledge of our institu
tions, by the rich current of the disposition to pre
serve them.
Thus it is, that the child is no sooner brought
into this world, than the actual condition, both of
the world itself and of society, acts powerfully
to draw forth the energies of his mind. It man
kind had retained that order in which they were
created, this influence, in co-operation with the
Divine, would have been sufficient, as it was de
signed to have been, for all the purposes of God.
Nature, the very image of divine lovliness and
the purest affections of the heart, which ap
proach still nearer the same origin, acting together
on the infant mind ; it would seem as if the ef
fect would be almost as certain as any process of
growth which is witnessed among the productions
of the natural world. But man is fallen ; and
the operation of this influence, in different condi
tions of society, may produce different results, but
in none is sufficient to capacitate him tor that life
of usefulness and happiness for which he was de
signed. The influence of society cannot be suf
ficient, since this cannot raise a man above its
own level; and the society of earth is no longer
the societv of heaven. This influence may bring
forward all the warlike energies of the young
savage, and direct them in their utmost vigor to
the distruclion of his enemies and of the beasts
of the forest; and he may look onward with rap
ture to the happy hunting grounds beyond the
grave. What disappointment awaits him in the
other world, all of us may easily imagine. This
influence may bring forth and gratify the unchaste
and beastly passions of the Turk; and he may
look forward, with his Koran in his hand, to a
heaven of sensuality and crime. It need not be
said how widely different will be found the reality.
Christians generally are standing in expectation
of a happiness as boundless in extent, as it is un
defined in its nature ; and with an infinite variety
of passions, in whose gratification alone they have
experienced delight, are expecting a heaven in
which simple useless enjoyment will rise like a
flood and immerse the mind. The result must, of
necessity, be as various as the condition of the in
dividuals bv whom it is anticipated. Still there
is a society yet in its coming, unseen though not
unseeing, shrouded from the rest of the world by
the very brilliancy of its own light, which would
resist the impulse of every evil affection, and look
for heaven simply in the delight of that which is
chaste, pure and holy ; which, by removing that
which renders duty undelightful, would draw
nigh to the only Source of real enjoyment;
which would find its happiness and its God in the
very commandments which have been the terror
of the world ; to which the effect is no longer
doubtful, since it is made acquainted with the
cause, and which, as it anticipates no reward, will
meet with no disappointment. When this society
shall be fully established on the earth, the voice of
the Lord will be no longer obstructed as it descends
from above the heavens :—“ Suffer little children to
come unto me and forbid them not, fur of such is the
kingdom of God”
The influence of the natural world, however
beneficial it may prove, is not such as it was de
signed to have been. Man has ever sought a con
dition in nature, which should correspond with the
state of his own mind. The savage would pine
and droop, if too suddenly removed to scenes of
civilization, like grass which had grown in rank
luxuriance under the shade of the oak, if the
branches were cleft, and it was at once exposed
to the power of the sun. The character of all
the lower orders of creation has suffered a change
in consequence of that in the condition of man,
the extent of which cannot be measured. That
the sun was darkened at the crucifixion of our
Lord, was no miracle. It was as much the nat
ural consequence of that event, as its present
lustre is ot His glory. It is not then for these, the
objects ot nature, to restore to us that moral or
der, the want of which has wrought such chances
on themselves. c
There is then another power which is necessarv
to the orderly development of the mind—the
power of the Word of God. This indeed has
been implied in all the preceding remarks. No
possessions and no efforts of the mind are uncon
nected with it, whatever may be the appearance.
Revelation so mingles with everything which
meets us, that it is not easy for us to measure the
degree to which our condition is affected by it.
Its effects appear miraculous at first, but after
thev have become established, the mind, as in the
ordinarv operations of nature, is apt to become
unconscious of the power by which they are pro
duced. All growth or development is effected
from within,outward. It is so with animals; i i s
so with vegetables; it is so with the bodv; it is
so with the mind. \\ ere is not for a power with
in the soul, as the soul is within the body, it could
have no possibility of subsistence. That the
growth of the material part depends on the pres
ence of that which is spiritual, is obvious from
the fact, that at death the former fall to decay. II
it were possible for God to be detached from our
spiritual part, this would decay likewise. The
doctrine, then of the immortality of the soul is sim
ply “ I in my father and ye in me and T in you.”
It is the union of the Divine with the human—
of that from which all things are, and on which
they depend, the Divine will, with man through
the connecting medium of Divine Truth. It is
the tendency of the Bible to effect this union, and
of course to restore a consciousness of it. It is a
union which God desires with all, therefore even
the wicked who reject it partake of his immor
tality, though not of his happiness. When, in
the process of regeneration, this union is accom
plished, the fear of dissolution will be as impos
sible in this world as in the other; and before this
is effected, the fear of dissolution may exist, there
as well as here. It is not the place where a per
son is, but the condition of mind which is to be
regarded; and there is no antidote, against the fear
of death, but the consciousness of being united
with the Fountain of life. But it is asked, how
can the fear of death exist after it has actually ta
ken place ? The separation of the spiritual and
material part, so far as the nature of their connec
tion is understood, can produce no fear. Were it
not for evil in ourselves, it would rather wear the
appearance of a state of uncommon quiet. There
is upon no subject a more powerful tendency to
instinctive knowledge, than upon that of death.
The darkness with which it is veiled, presents but
a lamentable picture of our present condition. It
is its own dissolution of which the mind is afraid;
and that want of conjunction with God which ren
ders this fear possible here, may render it possible
an} T where, It is the sole object of the Bible to con
join the soul with God; and, as this is effected, it
may be understood in what way the Holy Spirit
operates interiorly to produce its development. It
is not a mere metaphor, it is a plain and simple
fact, that the Spirit of God, is as necessary to the
development of the mind, as the power of the nat
ural sun to the growth of vegetables, and in the
same way. But let us remember, that, as in na
ture the heat and light may be converted into the
most noxious poison ; so the Spirit of God, in it
self perfectly pure and holy, may be converted in
to passion the most opposite to its nature. It is
left to us to open our hearts to its influence, by
obeying the commandments. “If ye love me,
keep mv commandments; and I will pray the Fa
ther, and he shall give you another Comforter that
he may abide with you forever.” ‘*He that be
lieveth on the Son hath everlasting life;” and he
will become conscious of living and growing from
God.
It is not consistent with the nature of things that
the full practical effect of a subject should be at
once revealed to the mind. The child is led on to
a knowledge of his letters by a thousand little en
ticements, and by the tender coercion of parental
aulhority, while he is yet ignorant of the treas
ures mysteriously concealed in their combinations.
The arts havejbeen courted merely for the transient
gratification they afford. Their connection with
religion and with the sciences is beginning to be
discovered; and they are yet to yield a powerful
influence in imparting to the mind its moral har
mony and proportions. The sciences themselves
have been studied principally as subjects of spec
ulation and amusement. They have been sought
for the gratification they afford, and for the artifi
cial standing they give in society, by the line of
distinction which is drawn between the learned
and the vulgar. The discovery of their connec
tion with the actual condition of’man, is of later
origin; and though their application to use is yet
in its infancy, they are beginning to throw a light
on almost every department of labor, hitherto un
exampled in the annals of the world. Religion,
too, has been a subject of speculation, something
evanescent, a theory a prayer, a hope. It remains
for this also to become practical, by the actual ac
complishment of that which it promises. It re
mains for the promise of reward to be swallowed
up in the vmrk of salvation. It remains for the
soul to be restored to its union with God—to hea
ven. Chrislianhy is in the tree of life again plan
ted in the world; and, by its own vital power, it
has been, year after year, casting off’ the opinion
of men, like the external bark which partakes not
of its life. It remains for the human mind to
become conformed to its spirit, that its principles
may possess the durability of their origin.
Such are the effects to be anticipated from the Bi
ble in the development of the mind. It has begun
the work, and will perfect it in each individual, so
tar as, by a life according to the commandments,
he becomes willing that it should. 1 here is with
in it a secret power, which exerts an influence on
the moral and intellectual world, like that of the
sun on the physical; and,’ however long and suc
cesfully it may be resisted by some, not the less
certain in its eliect on the ultimate condition of so
ciety. lam aware that, in these remarks, lam
ascribing to the spirit of God, to the spirit of the
Word, a power which some may be unwilling to
allow to it. The Bible is thought to resemble oth
er books, and to be subject to the same laws of
criticism ; and we may be sometimes in danger of
becoming insensible to its internal power, from
the very mass of human learning with which it is
encumbered. “Is not this the carpenter’s son C
There is one law of criticism, the most impor
tant to the thorough understanding of any work,
which seems not to have been brought sufficiently
into view in the study of the Bible. It is that by
which we should be led by a continued exercise
of those powers which are most clearly demon
strated in an author; by continued habits of
mind and action ; to approximate to that intellec
tual and moral condition, in which the work orig
inated. If it were desired to make a child thor
oughly acquainted with the work of a genuine
poet, I would not put the poem and lexicon in his
hand, and bid him study and learn—l would
rather make him familiar with whatever was cal
culated to call forth the power of poetry in him
self; since it requires the exercise of the same
powers to understand, that it does to produce. I
would point him to that source from which the au
thor himself caught his inspiration, and, as I led
him to the baptismal fount of nature, I would
consecrate his powers to that Being from whom
nature exists. I would cultivate a sense of the
constant presence and agency of God, and direct
him inward to the presence-chamber of the Most
High, that his mind might become imbued with
His spirit, I would endeavor, by the whole
course of his education, to make him a living po
em, that when, he read the poetry of others, it
might be effulgent with the light of his own mind.
The poet stands on the mountain, with the face
of nature before him, calm and placid. If we
would enter into his views, we must go where he
is. W e must catch the direction of his eye, and
yield ourselves up to the instinctive guidance of
his will, that we may have a secret foretaste of his
.
meaning—that we may be conscious of the image
in its first conception —that we may perceive its
beginning and gradual growth, till at length it be-!
comes distinctly depicted on the retina of the
mind. Without this, we may take the dictionary
in our hands, and settle the definition of every
word, and still know as little of the lofty concep
tion of the author, as the weary traveller, who
passes round in the farthest verge which is visible
from the mountain, knows of the scenery which is
seen from its summit. It has been truly said, that
Johnson was incapable of conceiving the beau
ties of Milton. Yet Johnson was himself a liv
ing dictionary of Milton’s language. The t.iue po
et, when his mind is full, fills his language to over
flowing; and it is left to the reader to preserve
what the words cannot contain. It is that part’
which cannot be defined; that which is too deli
cate to endure the unrestrained gaze; that which
shrinks instinctively from the approach of any
thing less chaste than itself, and though present,
like the inhabitants of the other world, is unper
ceived by flesh and blood, which is worth all the
rest. This acknowledges no dwelling-place but
the mind. Stamp the living light on the extended
face of nature, beyond the power of darkness at
the setting of the sun, and you may preserve such
light as this, when the mind rises not to meet it
in its coming.
]f it were desired to make an individual ac
quainted with a work in one of the abstract
sciences, this might be best effected by leading
him gradually to whetever conduced to the growth
of those powers, on which a knowledge of these
sciences depend ; by cultivating a principle of
dependence on the Divine Being, a purity and
chastity of the affections, which will produce a
tranquil condition, of all things the most favora
ble to clear perceptions ; by leading him to an
habitual observation of the relation of* things, and
to such continued exertion of the understanding,
as, calling into use its full powers without indu
cing fatigue, may impart the strength of the la
borer, without the degradation of the slave ; in a
word, by forming a penetrating, mathematical
mind, rather than by communicating mathemati
cal information. The whole character and com
plexion of the mind will be gradually changed ;
till at length it will become, (chemically speaking)
in its very nature, an active solvent of these sub
jects. They fall to pieces as soon as they come
in contact with it, and assume an arrangement
agreeable to that of the mind itself, with all the
precision of crystallization. They are then un
derstood ; for the mest perfect understanding of
a subject is simply a perception of harmony ex
isting between the subject and the mind itself.—
Indeed, the understanding which any individual
possesses of a subject might be mathematically de-|
fined 5 and there is aeon,
stant struggle lor the divisor and dividend to be
come the same by a change in the one or the other,
that the result may be unity, and the understand
ing perfect.
1 here is an analogy, (such as may exist be
tween things human and things divine,) between
that discipline which is required in order to un
derstand a production of taste or science, and
that which is necessary to a clear perception )j( 1
the truths of the Bible. As it is requisite to afuji
sense of the beauties of poetry, that the indivi* 1
dual should be himself a poet, and to a thorouM
knowledge of a work of science, that he shouh]
not merely have scientific information, but a sci. I
entific mind ; so it is necessary to a 1
of the Bible, that the mind should be formed ui
the image and likeness es God. An understand,
ing of the Word is the effect of a life according
to its precepts. It requires, not the obedience of
the rich man who went away sorrowful, but the
obedience of him who holds eveiy other posses
sion, whether it consists in the acquirements 0 f
rhe mind or in earthly property, in subjection to
the Holy Spirit within him. “If ye will do the
will of God, ye shall know of the doctrine,” i s a
law of exegesis, before which false sentiments
will melt away, like frost before the rising sun
There is within the mind the golden vein of duty,
which, if followed aright, will lead to an increas
ing brightness, before which the proudest monu
ments of human criticism will present an appear
ance like that of the dark disk of this world, as
the eve of the dying man opens on the scenes of
the other.
The world is beginning to be changed from
what it was. Physical power, instead of boasting
of its deeds of* prowess, and pointing with the
tomahawk or the lance to the bloody testimonies
of its strength, is beginning to leave its image on
the rugged face of nature, and to feel the living
evidence of its achievements, in the happy circle
of domestic life. It remains for intellectual strength
to lose the consciousness of its existence in the
passions subdued, and to reap the reward of its
labors, not in the spoils of an enemy, but in the
fruits of honest industry. It remains for us to be
come more thoroughly acquainted with the laws
of moral mechanism. Instead of making un
necessary and ineffectual exertions in the direct
attainment of truth, it remains for us to make
ecjual efforts to cleanse our own minds and to do
good to others ; and what was before unattaina
ble will become easy, as the rock which untutored
strength cannot move, may be raised by a touch
of the finger.
The Bible differs from other books, as our Lord
differed from men. He was born of a woman,
but His Spirit was the everlasting Father. It is
humble in its appearance, as nature is when com
pared to art; and some parts which Providence
j has permitted to remain within the same cover
have often attracted more attention than that
which is really divine. From the very nature of
perfect innocence its presence is unnoticed, sa\e
by him by whom it is loved. Divine Love, in its
perfect thoughtlessness of itself, enters the atheis
tical heart, unperceived. Such an one thinks
meanly of those who think humbly of themselves,
and with perfect humility the last vestige of reality
disappears. To him, both nature and the Word
arc like a deserted building, through which, as ho
passes, he is conscious of nothing but the sound
of his own footsteps; but to him whose heart
opens to the Divine Influence, this building ap
pears to assume, from the internal cause of its
creation, the sym me try of perfect proportions,
till at length, as be becomes more and more con
scious of the presence with which it. is filled, he
sees no temple, “ for the Lord God Almighty and
the Lamb are the temple.” The Word resem
bles the Hebrew language, in which much of it is
written. To him who knows not its spirit, it is an
empty form without sound or vowel ; but to him
who is alive to the Divine Influence, it is filled
with the living voice of God.
The Bible can never be fully understood, either
by making it subservient to natural reason, or by
blindly adopting what reason would reject; but
by that illumination of the understanding and en
laigement of the reason which will result from a
gradual conformity to its precepts. Reason now
is something very different from what it was a few
centuries past. We are in the habit of thinking
that the mode of reasoning has changed ; but
this appears to be merely an indication of a change
which has taken place in the character of the
mind itself. Syllogistic reasoning is passing away.
It has left no permanent demonstration but that of
its own worthlessness. It amounts to nothing
but the discernment and expression of the parti
culars which goto comprise something more gen
eral ; and, as the human mind permits things to
assume a proper arrangement from their own in
herent power of attraction, it is no longer necessa
ry to bind them together with syllogisms. Few
minds can now endure the tediousness of being
led blindfold to a conclusion, and of being satis
fied with the results merely from the recollection
of having been satisfied on the way to it. The
mind requires to view the parts of a subject, not
only separately, but together; and the under
standing, in the exercise of those powers of ar
rangement, by which a subject is presented in its
just relations to other things, takes the name of
reason. We appear to be approaching that con
dition which requires the union of reason and el
oquence, and will be satisfied with neither with
out the other. We neither wish to see an ana
tomical plate of bare muscles, nor the gaudy
daubings of finery; but a happy mixture of
strength and beauty. We desire language nei
ther extravagant nor cold, but blood-warm. Rea
son is beginning to lekrn the necessity of simply
tracing the relations which exist between created
things, and even touching what it exam
ines, lest it disturb the arrangement in the cabinet