The grand occasion in reference to which this day was instituted, and the events of which it was to be commemorative, are, we conceive, sufficiently clear from the intimations in the Pentateuch. It is not at all necessary, in order to make such intimations intelligible, to decide on the absolute accuracy of any special interpretation of the first chapter of Genesis, or of the events narrated in it. The inter pretation of that portion of Scripture is at present beset with insuperable difficulties ; nor until both geology and exegesis have done more for their re spective sciences, can we be sure that we have thoroughly mastered it [CREATIoN]. But whether the six days' be supposed literally days of twenty four hours each, or periods of vast but indefinite duration, each more or less sharply defining the progress in the gradnal development of the Cosmos, and its stages of transition towards the condition in which it has been since man first made his appearance ; whether it be interpreted literally, as an unvarnished narration of facts, revealing new arrangements of the terrestrial globe, and the crea tion of new species of animals (changes immedi ately preceding, and having a designed relation to, the advent of man) ; or whether it be re garded as a grand symbolical vision—a picture, as it were, in chiaro-oscuro—presenting only a general resemblance to the real facts, and not a literally accurate delineation, it is plain that in the estimate of the writer of the Pentateuch, and in the judg ment of primitive tradition, there was a sublime succession of acts in this great drama of creation. And indeed upon any hypothesis, even that of the most gradual development, there must have been some such stages ; for they are written on the books of stone which geology pores over, as well as in the book of Genesis. The writer also sup poses that the creative energy, having interposed in these successive acts, ceased when the present sys tem of causes and effects was developed, and the ordinary course of the world established upon the basis of its present laws ; whereupon the Creator, in the final survey of his work, pronounced it all very good,' and rested on the seventh day.' All admit, of course, that this language is wholly anthro popathetic ; which gives some reason to conjecture that the narrative of the six days ' may be also only a symbolical representation, in condescending adaptation to the capacities of man ; presenting only a shadowy and approximate, not a clear and exact, delineation of the facts. But, at all events, the language just quoted respecting God himself must be merely tropical, and is universally felt to be so ; for as the Book itself plainly says, He fainteth not, neither is weary.' Nor if our Lord spoke truth when be said, My Father worketh hitherto,' is it true that God ceases working in the only sense in which be works at all ; that is, by the constant activity of an omnipotent Will. Since he speaks, and it is done ; commands, and it stands fast,' his omnipotence cannot be sup posed at all more active when be wills anything to be, than when he wills it to continue in being ; when he creates, than when he conserves. This language is, however, in keeping with the ordinary style in which not only the divine condescension actually speaks to man, but in which, for the most part, it must speak, in order to be intelligible at all. Every form of expression employed to denote the na ture or the attributes of God, or his mode of opera tion, must be in language derived from the analogies of our nature, and is necessarily anthropopathetic. The real analogies, however, in the present case, though metaphorically expressed, are obvious enough. The several acts of creative energy, and tbeir cessation at the completion of the series of the related wonders (represented as God's work ing' and resting') correspond to man's alternate working and resting' according to the law of his nature, and teach him that he should periodically cease from his labours, even as God did from his.' —This, in the judgment of the writer of the Penta teuch, was the principal occasthn of the institution of the day, whether actually instituted then or at a later period.
Whatever, then, be the true interpretation of the first chapter of Genesis, the injunction to observe the Sabbath (whether old as the world and given to all mankind, or long after and to the Jews ex ciusively) was principally commemorative of the completion of the divine work in creation. That it was really founded on the divine authority must of course be made out by the general evidences of the veracity of the sacred writer, and can be denied by no one who admits the sufficiency of those evi dences. While it is plain that the principal reason for the institution of the Sabbath is a commemora tion of the completed work of creation, an addi tional reason is added in Deut. v. ; namely, to
commemorate the deliverance from Egypt. This is sometimes represented as a contradictory reason ; but this cannot be justly said. There is no incon sistency in the case ; it is simply a double com memoration, instead of a single one, that is en joined.* Such being the worthy occasion on which the day was instituted, to commemorate the consum mated work of creation, .and celebrate the throne and equipage of God's almightiness,' so it is not difficult to show the profound wisdom and bene licence of the institution itself ; and the last not less than the first. Some may demur to this as affirmed of the Yervisiz Sabbath ; but, as we shall presently show, without reason.
t. As to the wisdom, in a physica/ point of view, of some such institution, nobody doubts. All the facts of physiology, all individual experience, the customs of all nations in the appointment of certain days as 'festal '—in which the ordinary avocations of life should be for awhile intermitted—show the necessity and expediency of if. If there be one thing clear, it is that man requires such periodic intermis sion if he would keep either his physical, intel lectual, or moral nature in health, or prevent his soul from becoming the mere drudge of his body. That he is not capable of continuous activity, we all know familiarly enough ; the absolute need of sleep every few hours—a third of man's whole life being spent in that simulated death—is the most striking proof of it ; but this is not enough. Not only is man incapable of continued exertion, whether of body or mind, without sleep ; but in spite of that periodic anodyne, he will, if he has nothing more, generally fall into a morbid condition, more especially if his occupations (even though they may not be very arduous) are marked by little variety, pursued in a crowded city or amidst monotonous scenes, or make large demands on the nervous energy. Man needs not only the periodic rest of sleep at short intervals, but longer rest at longer intervals ; and, what is as important to health as sleep itself, he needs change of mood. His life will no more bear one unvarying routine and succession of the same thoughts and employments without paying the penalty of ill health, than his stomach will bear one kind of food without resent ing it. Nothing is more common, in medical practice, tban to find patients complaining of being out of health ' (as the saying is), and getting daily worse, though their employments are neither un healthy, nor very heavy, nor very irksome ; but which have been too long pursued without varia tion. The mere wear and tear of the ordinary routine, the continuity of the same thoughts, espe cially if attended with anxiety, has put the whole system out of tune, and gradually induced diseased action of the brain, stomach, and nenTs. The shrewd physician often perceives that the sure and speedy remedies in such a. case are rest, change, and a complete suspension and abandonment of the ordinary mode of life ; and that wrench alone from all the ordinary holdings of life, will, in in numerable cases, magically restore health, and prove the only medicine necessary. If the patient can be got away from the deadly malaria of con stant and uniform occupations, his physician knows he will do well ; and the result in a thousand cases justifies his prognostics. There are few of those who have attained middle life who have not for themselves experienced this beneficial effect of change. Away from home, which they left with a brain filled with vapours, and a heart oppressed with all the fancies of the malacie imaginaire, the cloud has been lifted from the mind as it were by magic ; in the presence of new scenes, sunshine in spite of themselves has stolen into the soul, and all the vital functions have returncd to their nor mal play under its influence. Now, the institution of the Sabbath gave the Jew a beneficial periodic break of this kind ; an enforced abstinence from all the ordinary occupations and trains of thought, the continuous prosecution of which is so apt to pro duce enfeebled health, and at length, it may be, madness or death.—And whether it were a com mon tradition or experience that was the teacher, other nations learned the necessity of something analogous to it, as far as regards this end at least. If they had no Sabbath, they yet instituted certain festal clays on which the sons of toil were released from their drudgery, and recruited their wasted vigour, botb of body and of mind, by- needed re pose ; days on which the wheels of the soul might be dragged out of the deep ruts of customary thought and feeling on to the green sward of pleasant fancies' and quiet contemplation.