And, as far as it
goes, no one can quarrel with the doctrine so laid down. After staying with
some Puritanical friends, he wrote:--
"I endeavour in vain to give them more cheerful ideas of religion: to
teach them that God is not a jealous, childish, merciless tyrant; that
He is best served by a regular tenour of good actions,--not by bad
singing, ill-composed prayers, and eternal apprehensions. But the
luxury of false religion is, to be unhappy!"
It was probably this strong conviction that everything pertaining to
religion ought to be bright and cheerful, that led him, as far back as the
days when he was preaching in Edinburgh, to urge the need for more material
beauty in public worship.--
"No reflecting man can ever wish to adulterate manly piety (the parent
of all that is good in the world) with mummery and parade. But we are
strange, very strange creatures, and it is better perhaps not to place
too much confidence in our reason alone. If anything, there is,
perhaps, too little pomp and ceremony in our worship, instead of too
much. We quarrelled with the Roman Catholic Church, in a great hurry
and a great passion; and, furious with spleen, clothed ourselves with
sackcloth, because she was habited in brocade; rushing, like children,
from one extreme to another, and blind to all medium between
complication and barrenness, formality and neglect.
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