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 heaven and the hells, angels and devils, and everything of this class with which the human mind intensely yearns to be acquainted, were evidently within the compass of his amazing intelligence. Suppose all this, and at the same time that a certain ineffable light and demonstration went with all that he uttered—would not the suspicion, ere long, creep upon us that we were in the presence of a superhuman being? Could we resist the belief that such knowledge, such wisdom, such weight must pertain to the tenant of another sphere? And as this conviction grew upon us, should we not draw closer and closer to him, and drink in with more entranced ear every word that fell from his lips—lips touched as with a live coal from off the altar—and with every new disclosure would not admiration, wonder, awe, delight grow till they scarce knew bounds? How would the soul swell under the undoubting assurance that an angel stood revealed in the venerable Mentor to whom we had been listening? What an era in our existence should we count the interview, especially if it were a transient one and not to be renewed?

Have I not in this described what would be the thoughts and emotions of the mass of men in view of the privilege supposed to be accorded? Imagine now, on the other hand, a person listening to the same marvellous utterances, and yet evincing little or no interest in them. Imagine him saying that the speaker, for aught he knew, might be an angel, or he might be a mere babbler, and that he regarded it of no particular consequence whether he were the one or the other. What idea could you form of such a listener? Would he not be nearly as great a wonder in the contrary direction as the illustrious stranger himself? Would he not strike you as a moral monstrosity? Could you draw any other inference from the slighting estimate formed of the speaker, than that he attached no value to the communications delivered? No other conclusion could be drawn from the indifference supposed, than that either the subject matter of the discourse were utterly distasteful and repulsive to him, or that he looked upon the discourser as pouring out a stream of empty garrulity.

The supposition now made may be applied to Swedenborg and his revelations. With all the evidence at this day accumulated of a divine mission entrusted to his hands, we must deem a practical unconcern and apathy in regard to them as arguing the same moral state as that we have now depicted. If you feel, however, that this would not apply to you—if you are conscious that you would listen, holding your breath, to the utterance of a celestial messenger, and would draw nearer and nearer, and press up to the oracle, the more you were convinced of its divinity, how can your deportment be different, provided Swedenborg is regarded as a commissioned legate of heaven, qualified and appointed to lay open the arcana of the macrocosm and the microcosm—of the larger and lesser universe? Indeed, if one is not fully assured, but has only a shrewd suspicion, that such is the real character of this remarkable Seer, even that suspicion, we think, carries with it a degree of moral obligation to investigate his claims. You know it is often said in reference to Christianity itself, that if there be but a bare possibility of its being true, no man can justify himself in waving a thorough examination of the subject. So in the matter before us. When you consider the stupendous nature of the disclosures, doctrinal and psychological, which he has made, it implies a most culpable indifference to stand aloof from the inquest demanded. As then my hearers would