That self-love is not the spring of all voluntary action, is, I think, evident.

First, there are many principles and some of them very powerful principles in the human mind, which prove springs of that mental action which is involved in volition. Love of offspring, pity for the distressed, gratitude for favors, and other natural affections are as truly elements of our mental constitution, as the desire of our own happiness; and each one of them is as truly a spring of voluntary action, as self-love. How then can self-love be the spring of all voluntary action? We can say with truth, it is one of the springs of action. In all minds, it is a powerful spring. But is it therefore the only spring? In some minds it is the most powerful spring, the supreme motive, the motive, it may be, which governs almost exclusively. But because this is the case in some minds, can we conclude that it is so in all? Take the man, who loves God with all his heart and soul. Has he no spring of action above the desire of his own happiness? Is not his affection to God a motive distinct from self-love, and of a far higher and nobler nature? And do not those who maintain, that a desire for happiness is the spring of all voluntary action, manifestly overlook important principles, and attempt to simplify beyond nature, and in opposition to truth? They discover that self-love is a very powerful motive to action, and thence conclude that it is the only one. Others, who find gratitude to be a powerful motive to action might, with the same justice, conclude that this is the only motive. And others again, finding that pity for the distressed operates as a motive to exertion, might lose sight of everything else, and hold that all our actions result from pity.

As there are many motives of volition, besides self-love, so there are some motives which are of superior moral worth. Suppose you know that a man performs an action or makes a sacrifice from pure love to God, or to man, without the least reference in his thoughts or feelings to his own private good. Do you not at once pronounce it a deed of uncommon excellence? Even that benevolence which is mixed with other things, and of which we

can only say, that it has more influence than self-love, is regarded as a virtue. But that benevolence which is wholly disinterested, i. e., which does not proceed from any aim, direct or indirect, to promote our own gratification, is the object of universal admiration. And how many seek that admiration by appearing to be actuated by such benevolence, though really destitute of it.

The fact that we

It may perhaps be said, that while we are influenced by love to God or to man, we experience pleasure; and from this it may be inferred, that a desire for this pleasure is at bottom the mainspring of all moral action, and that all our other motives are to be resolved into this. But what is there in logic, or in experience, which can justify such an inference? are pleased with the accomplishment of any object, as the honor of God, or the good of man, implies that we love that object antecedently to the pleasure we enjoy in it. Without the existence of such love to the object, how could, the promotion of it give pleasure? The pleasure results from the preëxistent affection, and not the affection from a wish to obtain pleasure.

No one can doubt, that a desire for our own happiness is often the spring of our voluntary actions. But does it follow from this, that it is always so? How can that be considered as a motive to action, which is in no way contemplated by us - which is not before the mind as an object of thought or desire, at the time of action? Look at a loving father, who, at the hazard of his own life, rushes into the water or the fire to rescue his little children. What moves him to do this? Is it a desire for his own gratification or pleasure? But he will tell you, he had no thought of this, and that he was urged on to do what he did, by the love and pity of his heart for his dear, suffering children. If he succeeded in preserving their life, he did indeed experience a high degree of pleasure, as a consequence. But to say that a desire for that pleasure was the motive of the parent's efforts, would be a contradiction to his own consciousness, and an abuse of language. And surely a devout Christian may, sometimes at least, be so influenced, so constrained, so borne on by love to Christ, that all thought of himself and all desire for his own gratification

will be excluded, and his fervent, holy love become the great and only motive of action. Facts of this kind certainly occur in the history of God's people. In how many instances are Christians, at the commencement of their course, and afterwards, conscious of loving God and rejoicing in his government, without any reference in their thoughts to their own interests, temporal or eternal? And is not such pure love to God, such a rising above private interest, and such annihilation of self generally regarded as among the clearest marks of holiness, and as what may be expected to exist in proportion to the measure of sanctification? The unregenerate are "lovers of themselves." They have no moral affection of a higher character than self-love. But can it be the same with those who bear the image of Christ? Is there no object in the universe which they love, except in subserviency to their own personal welfare? Is all duty performed by saints and angels from that one principle? To suppose this seems to me as unphilosophical and untrue, as to suppose that all the operations in the natural world are to be traced to the power of steam, or to electricity. True philosophy leads us to account for the phenomena in the natural world by a great variety of principles or laws, many of which are entirely distinct from each other. And why should it not lead us to do the same in the moral world, and to trace the actions of intelligent, moral beings, to all that variety of principles or motives, from which they evidently result? Why should we refuse to admit what is so manifest, that a variety of causes or springs of action as really exist and operate in the world of mind, as in the world of matter?

REPLY TO "INQUIRER."*

THE writer, whose questions and remarks I shall now consider, conceals his name, and calls himself "Inquirer. He doubtless has sufficient reasons for writing anonymously. But what weight is there in the reasons which he suggests in his " Apology?" He thinks he may be allowed to conceal his name, because he does not come forward as a teacher, but as a learner. But why is it less proper for one, who presents himself before the public as an "Inquirer" and learner, to make known his real name, than for one who presents himself as a teacher? It is certainly very honorable for a man to "take the attitude of a learner;" especially if, in that modest attitude, he manifests high intellectual attainments, and gives his readers reason to think that he is able to teach as well as to learn.

But I have no disposition to complain of "Inquirer," for not giving his name to the public. Nor will I evade the task of answering his inquiries because he writes anonymously. As the questions are important, I will seriously attend to them, without being anxious to know from whom they come. I am very willing to converse with persons behind the curtain, whose words I hear, but whose faces I have not the pleasure to see, on condition that they treat subjects with propriety, and show by their words, that they are worthy of respect, as the two anonymous writers do, with whom I am concerned in these discussions. After all, it must seem rather singular for me, in my own name, to be publicly discussing subjects with two writers, possessed of no ordinary powers of mind, but who conceal their names. I however make no objection. Still one in my case cannot be quite certain how the thing will end. If I should commit mistakes, or if I should be unsuc

* First published in the Am. Bib. Repos., 1840 and 1841, in reply to "Inquirer," April, 1840.

cessful in my efforts, and so expose myself to shame, I might wish I had done as others have done, and wisely availed myself of the benefit of concealment. On the other hand, if my respected, but anonymous friends find, as they may, that they have escaped the hazards of authorship, and have gained honor to themselves by their anonymous publications; it will be easy for them to prevent mistakes and to let the world know to whom the honor belongs.

It is well understood, how much more difficult it is to answer questions, than it is to ask them. And what if I should think it best, by and by, to invert the present order, and to take upon myself, as I have a right to do, the humbler and easier task of asking questions, and to transfer to "Inquirer," the more honorable and difficult task of answering them? And if a man of such obvious and eminent characteristics as he possesses, should proceed a little further in laying open his mind, and should be as free in answering as he has been in asking questions, he might perhaps make himself sufficiently known without the form of giving his name.

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"Inquirer" says, he finds "difficulties in most of the systems of mental philosophy" which he reads. It is implied, that he does not find difficulties in all of them; that there is at least some one system, in which he finds no difficulties. I would then at once take the attitude of a learner," and ask him what that system is. To me all systems of mental philosophy have had their difficulties. I have not been able to fix upon any system, however well supported by argument, against which speculative objections and difficulties could not be urged. And if I had refused to believe every truth, or system of truths, which was exposed to difficulties that I could not fully obviate, I should have believed nothing. If, however, "Inquirer" has found a system which is encumbered with no difficulties, as his expression seems to imply, he will confer a great favor on me, and on many others, by making us acquainted with it. But, for the present, I am fully convinced, that the only safe and proper way is, to believe that which is proved by sufficient evidence, especially by Scripture evidence, whatever speculative difficulties may attend it. If our faith