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-^7
SERMON
ON
IMPORTANT SUBJECTS.
BY THE LATE
REV. DAVID TAPPAN, d. d,
aOLLIS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSXTT AT CAMBRIDGE.
TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED A
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR
AND A
SERMON
PREACHED AT HIS FUNERAL BY DR. HOLMES,
putli^Jcn
BY W. HILLIARD AND LINCOLN & EDMANDS, AND FOR SALE
AT THE BOOKSTORE IN CAMBRIDGE, AND AT
mo, 53, CORNHILL, BOSTON.
1807,
DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit
E it remembered, that on the fifteenth day of August, in the year of our Lord one thousund eight himdred and seven, m the thirty-second year of the Independence of the Unit- ed States of America, Mary Tulijian^ of said District, has de- posited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit : " Sermons " on important Subjects, by the late Rev. David Tappan, d. d. " Hollis Professor of Divinity in the University at Cambridge. " To which are prefixed a Biographical Sketch of the Author j " and a Sermon preached at his Funeral by Dr. Holmes."
In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, ' intituled, " An Act for the encouragement of learning, by sc- ' curing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors ' and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein men- ' tioned :" and also to an Act, intitled, " An Act supplementa- ' ry to an Act, intitled. An Act for the encouragement of learn- ' ing, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the ' authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times there- ' in mentioned ; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts ' of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other
prints.
WILLIAM S. SHAW, Clerk of the District of JMassachusctts,
A true copy of Record, Attest, W. S. SHAW, Clerk.
AD VER TISEMENT.
THE Discourses, which constitute this volume, were selected froiTi the maiui- cripts of the author, since his decease, by a number of his friends, who carefully revised, and in most instances transcribed them for the press. As these Sermons were not written for publication, some ver- bal and other minute alterations became necessary previously to their appearance in print ; these the editors have taken the liberty to make ; but in no instance have they intentionally changed the meaning of the author.
The editors are responsible for the se^ lection of these discourses, and the print- ers for the correctness and neatness of the dress in which they appear. In respect both to the matter and the execution, a hope is entertained, that the patrons of the work will be gratified.
Short Memoirs of the Life of the Author are prefixed to this volume, containing facts and information not to be found in Dr. Holmes' discourse delivered at his fu- neral, which is prefixed to this volume.
iv ADVERTISEMENT.
The editors have fulfilled a task, which has cost them considerable attention and labour ; but they have an ample reward in reflecting, that they have rescued from oblivion the productions of a man of ge- nius, learning, and piety, which will be read with delight and improvement, not only by the present, but by future gen- erations.
With affectionate respect to the memory of the author, these discourses are humbly commended to the blessing of Heaven, and the patronage of the friends of Chris- tain truth, by
THE EDITORS.
Aug. 20, 1807.
CON TENTS.
Page
MEMOIRS of the Author.
Discourse at the Funeral of the Author, by Dr. Holmes.
SERMON I.
On Christian Zeal. 3
Rev. iii, 19. Be zealoua.
SERMON II.
On brotherly Reproof. 20
Lev. xix. 1 7 . Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart ; thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour^ and not suffer sin upon him.
SERMON III.
On Secret Faults and Presumptuous Sins. 35
Psalm xlx. 12, 13. Who can understand his errors? Cleanse thou me from secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from prestanptuous sins. Let thera not have dominion over me. Then shall I be upright ; and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.
SERMON IV.
On the Love of God. 45
Mark xii. 30. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength : this is the first and great commaTuiment.
SERMON V.
On the Love of our Neighbour. 55
Mark xii. 31. ~'lnd the second is like unto it, namely, this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
, SERMON Yl.
On Christian Charity. 67
1 Cor. xiii. 13. IVic greatest of these is Charity,
VI
CONTENTS.
1 Cof. xlii. IS.
SERMON VIL
On Chiistian Charity.
The greatest of these is Charity,
77
James iii. 8.
SERMON VIII. On the Vices of the Tongue.
But the tongue can no man tame ; it is aii unruly evil, full of deadly poison.
SERMON IX.
The Cliaracter of a Wise Man.
Psalm iii. 10. The Fear of the Lord is the begiiining of JVisdom.
99
SERMON X. On the Pleasures of Religion. 112
Proverbs xxiv. 13, 14. My son^ cat thou honey, because it is good ; and the honeycomb, which is siueet to thy taste : so shall the knowledge of wisdom be to thy soul. When thou hast found it, then there shall be a reward, and thy eocjicctation shall not be cut off.
SERMON XL
The Want of a practical Regard to religious Truth,
the Cause of dangerous speculative Errors. 128
2 Thessaloniaiis ii. 10, 1 1, and 12. Because they received riot the love of the truth that they might be saved ; for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie ; that they all might be damned, who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousiiess .
SERMON XII. Naaman the Leper. 140
2 Kint^s V. 10 — 14. And F.lisha sent a messenger unto hi.m,saying. Go a?id wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee, and thou shalt be clean. But Kaaman was ivroth, and went away ^ and said, Behold, I thought, he will surer ly come out to me, and stand, and call on the nanie vf the Lord his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper, ylre not Abana and P harp ar, rivers of Damascus, bet' ter than all the waters of Israel ? May I not wash in them and be clean ? So he turned and went awau in a rage. And his servant ca?ne near, and spake unto him, and aaid, My
CONTENTS. Vii
Page father^ if the firojihet had bid thee do some great things ivoiddest thou not have done it ? How -much rather then, ivhen hs saith imto thce^ wash and be clean ? Then went he down and dipped himself seven times in Jordan.^ according to the saying of the man of God ; and his flesh came again like the flesh of a little child ; and he was clean.
SERMON XIII.
On the Love of the ^Vorlcl. 151
1 John ii. 15. Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the worlds the love of the Father is not in him.
SERMON XIV. On the Divine Preference of Mercy to Sacrifice. 164
Matthew xii. 7 . I will have mercy, and not sacrifice.
SER?40N XV. On Christian Hope. 179
1 John iii. 3» Every man that hath this hope in him^ fiurifieth himself even as he is pure,
SERMON XVI.
The Christian Pattern. 189
Philippians ii. 5. Let this mind be in you, which was also in. Christ Jesus.
SERMON XVII.
Religious Joy explained and recommended. 200
Philippians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say,
rejoice.
SERMON XVIII.
Religious Joy explained and recommended. 210
Philippians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I
say, rejoice.
On Prayer. 229
Matthew vi. 9, 10. Hallowed be thy name ; thy kingdom come ; thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Till C 0 N T E JT T S.
Pa^e
SERMON XX, The Spirit, Employment, and Design, of the Chris- tian Ministry. 246
Ephesians iii. S, 9, 10. Unto me^ who am less than the least of all saints^ is this grace given., that I should fir each among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ ; and to make all men see what is the fellowshiji of the mystery., ivhich from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ : To the intent, that now, unto the principalities, in heavenly filaces, might be known by the church the manifold wisdom of God.
SERMON XXI.
The Benefits of Afliiction. 269
Hebrews xii . 9, 10. Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh., who corrected us, and we gave them reverence ; shall we not viuch rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and live ? For they -verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure ; but he, for our profit, that we might be partakers cf his holiness,
SERMON XXII. On the Duty and Advantages of worshipping God. 282
Psalm xcv. 6. O come, let us worship and bow down ; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
SERMON XXIII. On Forgiveness. 295
Matthew vi. 12. Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our
debtors..
SERMON XXIV.
On tlic Connexion between denying the Son and
denying the Father. 310
i John ii. 23. Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not
the Father ; but he that acknowledgeth the Son, hath the
Father also.
SERMON XXV.
Religion the one Thing needful. 321
Luke X. 42. But one thijig is needful.
MEMOIRS
OF THE
iLife, Character, anD mvitiriQ^
OF THE
REV. DAVID TAPPAN, d. d.
O record the principal events in the lives of emi- nent men, and to delineate their characters, has always been considered a useful undertaking. " We naturally wish to be acquainted with those, who delight and in- struct us, and to whose labours we feel ourselves in- debted. Biographical memoirs, if faithfully executed, gratify this wish." We are peculiarly interested, when w^e behold a remarkable genius early displaying its pow- ers, growing up to quick maturity, devoted to the most useful and sacred purposes, and cut off by death in the midst of its activity. Examples of this kind proclaim to us the uncertain tenure of human life, and yet teach us, that those, who have only a short passage through this world, may confer permanent benefits on mankind, and obtain a place in their esteem more lasting, and more honourable, than monuments of stone.
The Creator, designing the subject of these memoirs for a very important station, imparted to him corres- ponding advantages. By the talents which he inherited from nature, together with his moral and literary im- provements, he was qualified for extensive usefulness. He was born April 21, 1752. His father, the Rev. Benjamin Tappan, of Manchester, had the principal s
10 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
care of his first years, and taught him the clen.. knowledge. Early in hfe he discovered marks of a . ingenious, active mind. Before his admission into hj.- uni\ crsit}% he was placed, for a time, under the tuition of Mr. Samuel Moody, Preceptor of Dummer Acad- emy. At the age of fourteen years he -was admitted into Harvard University. There, rising above juvenile follies and vices, and maintaining the character of a soberminded and virtuous vouth, he dili2:entlv and sue- eessfully sought useful knowledge. Extending his vie\vs into future lin-, he preferred those attainments, which are solid and durable, before those ^vhich are showy or splendid. He \vas distinguished for ardent love of knowledge, for his blameless and serious con- duct, and for his dutiful regard to the laws and guides of the institution.*
After leaving the uni\'ersity, he assiduously devoted his mind, more than two years, to the study of divinity, though occasionally em]:)loyed in teaching a school. In- deed he had besto\\"cd im uncommon sliarc of attention on moral and religious subjects while at college, and from his earliest 3'outh. Beside which, it is to be re- membered, that early maturity was a remarkable trait in the character of his mind. Accordingly, his first per- formances in the desk displayed a fund of theological in- formation, procured hitn a high place in the public es^
The follo'u:hig notes are extracted from a vranuscript sermon delivered shortly after the death of Br. Tappan, by a very intimate and discerning friend, and brother in the ministry, who fur viany years vms united •xvith hint in the same Association.
* During- the third year of liis collegiate life, " a sickness, which broiic^ht him to a near view of death, was the means of such awakciiing; and convic- tions, as he Ivad not known before, and was followed, some months after, with such views of mind and actings of heart in divine things, as gave a new direction even to his unblamed and comparatively innocent life."
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 11
teem, and indicated the eminence, which he aftenvard attained. His hearers were surprised with the extent and pertinence of liis thoughts, with his accurate and copious style, with the animation and solemnity of his utterance, and the fervour of his devotions.
A very harmonious church and society in Newbury soon invited his ministerial labours. At the age of twen- ty-one, he ^^•as ordained the pastor of that flock^ in which office he continued about eighteen years.
He chose the sacred office from piinciple. It was his deliberate judgment, that the gospel ministry is, of ail professions, the most important to mankind. That work involving the best interests of intelligent creatures, ac- corded witii his benevolence and piety. He made it the deligiitful business of his life to recommend to others that Saviour, whose glory had captivated his heart. He had the peculiar ad^^antage, \\hich belongs to all ministers, who are called of God, that when he preached the unsearchable riches of Christ, *' he spake what he knew, and testified Mhat he had seen.'* To this un- doubtedly must be ascribed, in a great measure, his im- pressive manner of preaching. He spake from the ful- ness of his heart. No hearer could doubt, that he felt the reality and eternal importance of the truths he delivered. ---v^
As a preacher, he was evangelical. The peculiar contents of the gospel were the principal subjects of his discourses, "'.^He determined to know nothing, save Jesus Christ and him crucified." The gospel, as a reve- lation of grace to sinners, was the great subject, which he studied and explained. " Sensible that the revela- tion of mediatorial mercy is the chosen instrument of sa^•ing a ruined \A'orld ; that he was divinely commis- sioned to publish and enforce it for this end ; and that
12 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
its final completion will embrace the order, perfection, and hLippiness of the moral world, and the highest glory of its Author ; he dwelt upon the sublime subject with eager and profound attention."* Those doctrines, which are the groundwork of revelation, were tlie groundwork of his preaching. Scarcely a sermon came from his lips, in which some of the peculiarities of evan- gelical truth were not found.
He was a very practical preacher. Every gospel doctrine, he insisted, has its corresponding precept and duty. Speaking of the doctrines of human depravity, and salvation by the mercy of God, the atonement of Christ, and the sanctification of the Spirit, he says; *' from these doctrines immediately ifcsult the duties of evangelical repentance and humility*, faith and hope, gratitude and love, obedience and joy." He gave it as his opinion, " that Christian piety and morality must rise or fall, as the doctrines of grace, which support and ex- alt them, are regarded or neglected." By these senti- ments he regulated his preaching. Whenever he incul- cated the duties of Christianity, he did it chiefly by evan- gelical motives. Whenever lie described a good man, he described him, as a character formed upon gospel principles ; as a redeemed penitent sinner, pardoned through Christ, and regenerated by the Holy Spirit. He represented the believer's inward exercises and whole practice, as having a constant respect to the great scheme of mediatorial grace. In his painting of virtue and relig- ion you would not see the image of Seneca or Plato, but that of DaA'id or Paul. You ^vould hear die Chris- tian, of his describing, humbly proclaiming the abundant grace of Christ, and, from a heart enraptured with his di- vine beauty, crying out, " Unto him, who hath loved us,
* Dr. Tappan's own words in describing a Christian minister.
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 13
and washed us from our sins in his blood, be honour and glory forever." At the same time he made it appear, that such affection to Christ is not only the surest evi- dence of an upright heart, but the most ejRicacious mo^ live to a pious and useful life.
Dr. Tappan was impressed with the importance of plain and distinguishing preaching. He was happy in commanding a style, which had charms for all. While the refined hearer enjoyed its flowing elegance, the un- refined was edified with its plainness. Deeply affected himself with the necessity and worth of true religion, he laboured to describe it intelligibly and correctly, and to discriminate its saving exercises and fruits from every deceitful imitatijl|. To this work his mind U'as early directed by the {l|usal of Edwards' Treatise on Re- ligious Aflections. It was often the drift of his discourses to point out the essential difference between the sanctified affections of the believer, and the best exercises of the unrenewed heart. It was his serious endeavour, "to lay open the human heart to the view of mankind ; to trace its windings, its disguises, its corruptions ; to expand all its latent seeds of abomination ; to pluck oiT its mask of apparent virtue ; to unfold the secret princi- ples of human conduct, and distinguish appearances from realities ; to detect the various biasses of self love and self deceit; to delineate every shape and form, which the unsanctified heart in various circumstances will assume, so that every sinner might see and recog- nise himself in the draught, and all classes of natural men .... might so perceive their moral diseases, as ini» mediately to look for a suitable remedy."*
He was a very affectionate preacher. When address- ing his fellow immortals, his heart was often enlarged
* Dr. T.'s sermon at the ordination of Rev. Timothy Dickinson,
14 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
and melted. His countenance, his voice, his gestures had all the natural marks of kind concern. His hearers, however repro"\'ed and alarmed, were convinced, that he spoke from love ; that the mortitVing reproof and pain- ful alarm he gave, were meant for their good. They saw and felt, that tlie preaclier was an ardent friend to their souls, and that he did not inflict the wound, M'hich faithfulness required him to inflict, without reluctance and grief*
He studied variety in his preaching. He thought a minister's usefulness greatly abridged; by confining him- self ^^'ithin a small circle of favourite speculations. Accordingly he took an extensive ran^, and aimed to introduce that pleasing variety of topic^R\'hich the scrip- tures furnisli ; though, after all, it waWnanifest, that he made evangelical religion the sum and centre of his preaching. The A'ariety in his preaching was increased by his method of adapting his performances to particular occasions. In this he discoA'ered remarkable facility and pertinence. He readily entered into the spirit of e^'cry occasion, and said what was suitable and impressive. Beside his appropriate performances on sacramental and funeral occasions, he fi-equc!uly noticed the great e\'ents of Providence in the natiu'al, civil, and religious w orld, and used them to elucidate some interesting truth, or en- force some important duty.
• *' It is probable, that Lis ^rcat modesty and meekness disarmed envr, and called forth a sentiment at once tender and respectful. He was not a thundering preacher ; but he spoke in a manner eminently enli.cjhtcned, energetic, and persuasive ; and perhaps the meekness of his air was a foil, to set off the strong sensibilities of his mind. His elocution was not of tlie splendid kind ; but it was nature fceling-ly expi-essed. All his soul pntercd into his sermons Every distinct subject appeared deeply to im- press him ; and the vivid perceptions of his mind enlivened every sen- tence and every word. He had, above most others, tlie faculty of losinjf hiicself in his subject."
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN,- IS
In the Christian pastor we seldom find so much to be admired, as in Dr. Tappan. His virtues and exertions, as a minister, seemed evidently to result from his person- al piety. This gave beauty, uniformity, and usefulness to his whole pastoral character. What he did for the promotion of religion, he did, not because his reputation and office required it, but because he had an operative, abiding con\iction, that religion is unspeakably amiable in itself, and above all things interesting to men. In the discharge of his sacred duties, he appeared only to act out the benevolence, the humility, the meekness, and the devotion, which divine grace had wrought in his own soul.
With powers qk mind and qualities of heart, \\hich attracted general esteem and admiration, he ^^■as modest and humble, delicate and unassuming, e\'er attentive to the claims of others, and ready to sacrifice his own. He relished the condescending and self denying duties of his ofiice, taking pleasure " in instructing, reproving, and comforting the lowest forms of human nature." His meekness was as remarkable, as his humilit}". His sa- cred office, giving him intercourse ^ith persons of c\'ery character, called for the frequent exercise of Chris- tian meekness. When tried by the ignorance and stupidity, or by the perverseness and injustice of men, he was calm and collected. The irritation of others did not irritate him.
He ivas remarhahly free from a ^worldly spirit. For earthly riches and grandeur he had no relish. Far no- bler objects occupied his thoughts, attracted his lo\-e, and roused his exertions. The riches of religion, the* attainment of knowledge and holiness,Hhe spread of evangelical truth, the display of divine perfection, the salvation of men, — these were the «;reat objects, ^^•hL'^;Il
IG MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
commanded his mind and heart. His soul seemed to be exalted above those contrivances and cares, which are necessary to the acquisition of wealth. His insatia- ble thirst for knowledge, and his sedulous attention to pastoral dudes, left him little opportunity and little inclination for worldly concerns. His temporal interests were, therefore, chiefly entrusted to the prudence and fidelity of others. Superior to fretfulness and anxiety, he accepted, without murmuring, a salary quite inade- quate to his support, humbly confiding in the bounty of Providence, and in the generosity of affectionate individ- uals. His moral taste was so refined, and the plan of his conduct so devout, that it was his uieliberate choice to live at a distance from luxury and#show. What he possessed of this world's goods, he valued chiefly as the means, not of private gratification, but of promoting the welfare of others. Free, in a good measure, from the incumbrance of worldly cares and pursuits, he consecrated his talents to sacred duties. While he sustained the pastoral office, he devoted a great por- tion of his time to study. ^^ His acquaintance with the old English authors was extensive. The treasures of truth contained in Owen, Howe, Goodwin, Bates, Bax- ter, &c. raised them in his estimation far above the £»Teater part of more polished moderns. The best models of refined composition he, nevertheless, studied with diligence, and imitated with success. What the old authors wanted in point of elegance, he aimed to sup- ply from accom'plished moderns. And what most of the moderns want in point of solid information, he sup-
• " With all that was remavkable in liim, nothing was more so, than con- stant mental action, and an ardent desire to be ever improving'. Hence he, was as nncommon a hearer, as speaker ; his eye, his attention, miremitting'- ly fixed, so that notliin^ of consequence seemed to escape him ; and he was very happy in retaining' the valuable ideas, he had once acquired."
MEMOIRS OF DR, TAPPAN, l7
plied from the old authors. In the old authors he found the body of divine truth ; in the new, its more comely and engaging dress.
Though his abilities might have raised him to emi- nence in general erudition ; he wisely chose to limit his attention principally to those branches of knowledge, which are allied to theology, and have the most promis- ing influence on ministerial usefulness. He never sa- crificed to ambition or taste the regular duties of his office. First of all he attended to the work of the min- istry. His stated sermons he composed with much study and accuracy. He carefully furnished himself for every common as well, as for every special occasion. Thou^ his apprehension was quick and his invention fertile ; and though he had a remark- able facility in fixing his attention, and in arranging and expressing his thoughts ; yet he did not allow himself to enter the desk without thorough preparation. For sev- eral years, he wrote his discourses at full length. But af- terward his increasing employments and avocations fre- quently permitted him to write only the plan and leading sentiments ; and sometimes he preached wholly extem- pore.
For the duties and delights of friendship he was pe- culiarly formed. His religion disposed him to sympa- thy, tenderness, and love. Kind affection lighted up his countenance, gave a delightful glow to his conversation, and cheerfulness to every beneficent action he performed. In him appeared true Christian politeness. The gentle- ness and suavity of his manners were not the substitute, but the spontaneous expression of sincere kindness. So mild and obliging was his disposition, that it cost him an effort to refuse even an improper request, or in any c
18 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
\\"ay to g'uc pain to others. In the vvliole intercourse of social iiie he was studious to please, cautious of ofteiid- in_^, and slow to be offended. His deportment and con- versation bespoke an unsuspecting simplicity of heart, a dignilit d sense of propriety, and serious regard to moral and religious obligation. He maintained a chaste and sober cheerfuhiess, by which he constandy gave evi- dence, that religion is a productive source of the best enjoyments.
His people always found him a friend, a brother, a father. He v. as a guide to inexperienced youth, a pious comforter to old age, a counsellor in difficulties, a sup- port to the afflicted. In the chamber of sickness he was a serious, tender, and prayerful visitant. And \\hile he delighted to participate and sooth the troubles of his people, he was no less ready to rejoice in their prosperi- tv, arid to esteem their happiness a part of his own. Lo\ e seemed to be the ruling principle of his pastoral conduxt. Even when he administered reproof to any of his flock, a task the least of all congenial to his feelings, he gave them e\'idence, that their reprover was their friend.
The cause of vital, experimental religion was dear to his heart. With great satisfaction he read accounts of what God had recently done in many parts of the world. He rejoiced to observe the deep religious impressions, which usually take place where God pours out his Spir- it. To promote such impressions among his own peo- ple, particularh' in the latter years of his pastoral work, he was instant in season, and out of season.
He was a 'ocvy ardent friend to his country. United by the strongest affection to the cause of the public, he warmly esj)oused the ])rinciples of those men, whom he considered as honest patriots. In conformity to those
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 19
principles, he vindicated die rights, iirifolded the dan- gers, and inculcated the duties of his country, \\'ithout entering into the violence of party spirit, or detracting from the dignity and sacredncss of his station.
He possessed an uncommon degree of Christian can- dour ; that candour Mhich is tlic operation of an enlarged mind and a benevolent heart. He v.as an equitalj'e judge of the characters, and a mild interpreter of the ac- tions of men. Toward them, wlio differed from him in belief, he cherished a very kind and generous affection. He knew too well the constitution of tlie human mind ; he had too much regard to the right of private judg- ment and the use of free inquiry ; he w<y?> too ^\ ise, too modest, and too just to indulge in him.self, or to encour- age in others a dogmatical, intolerant spirit. His candour prevented him from passing sentence upon persons or things without the authority of scripture ; from giving ^^•ay to groundless suspicions and jealousies ; from judging of men's state with reference to divine accep- tance, upon grounds not expressly determined by the gospel ; from imputing to others opinions, which they disavow, and from overlooking their excellencies, be- cause mingled with faults. His candour was a branch of that lo've^ %\)hich sujjercth long and is kind ; iv/iich think- eth no eml ; ivhic/i beareth all things, belicveth all things, hopetli all things^ endurcth all things. His charity uas benevolence ; benevolence restricted to no particular denomination, or even character ; though it had not the same operation to\\ard all. Like the charity of Jesus Christ, it was cordial complacency in them, who obeyed the truth. But toward the erroneous and irreligious, it ^\•as mingled disapprobation, compassion, and good u ill ; disapprobation of their errors and sins, compassion for their miseries, and good will to their souls. His charity
20 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
as well, as his judgment, led him to mourn the relaxed opinions of religion, which prevail at this day. Inspired with the spirit of other times, when the glory of New England piety shone forth, he greatly lamented its de- cline. In his view, modern liberality stripped the gospel of all its glory. Socinianism he pronounced a cold, life- less system, the name without the essence of Christianity, He considered it as taking away the life and soul of re- ligion, and as very near the confines of infidelity. In the spread ofthis and other forms of antichristian theolo- gy, he clearly saw the decay of vital piety, the peril of immortal souls, and the desolation of Zion.
In June, A. D. 1792, the corporation and overseers of Harvard University, harmoniously invited him to the office of Professor of Divinity. His learning and piety, his religious sentiments, and his aptness to teach, accord-- ed with the design and statutes of those who founded the Professorship, and justified his appointment to the im- portant office.* He considered his relation to his peo- ple so intimate and sacred, that he did not determine upon a separation without long and serious reflection, and such advice as deserved his confidence. The ques- tion was submitted to a very respectable ecclesiastical council, who unanimously voted, that duty and the p-eneral interest of religion required his removal. On the 26th of December, A. D. 1792, he was inaugurated, as Hollis Professor of Divinity in Harvard University.
In order to give a proper idea of his usefulness, it is necessary to observe, that, when he was introduced into the Professor's chair, the religious state of the Universi- ty was very alarming. For some time the students had
* Among those, who were active in introdacing- him into the Professor's chair, were several who were his cotemporaries at the University, and had known him from his childhood. Of this numl>er " was that excellent man, the late Lieutenant Governor Phillips, than whom no one took a more earnest part in placing him in that station."
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN, 21
received no regular instruction in divinity. Books, con- taining the poison of deism, were eageily read, and the minds of many corrupted. Immorality and disorder, in various shapes, had become prevalent, and mocked the power of persuasion and the arm of authority. Such was the state of things, when Professor Tappan entered on the duties of his office. The great object of his public and private lectures was, to defend the principles of natur- al and revealed religion, and to lead the students to tht knowledge of their Maker and Redeemer. His whole official conduct was calculated to conciliate affection, to excite serious regard to divine truth, and to impress the importance of religious duty. Not expecting youth to overlook their pleasure in their love of improvement, he aimed, in his public lectures, to unite entertainment with information. He happily combined brevity with fulness, and animation with exactness. He was didactic, yet persuasive ; profound, and yet pathetic. It was impos- sible for young men of liberal minds to hear his public lectures, with the well adapted and fervent prayers which introduced and closed them, without a conviction, that religious truth could be vindicated by argument, and that Christian goocbiess ennobled the soul, and yielded the best enjoyments. So singular was the assemblage of excellent qualities in his public performances at the University, that the nicest criticism could complain of no inelegance in the style, and the most metaphysical, of no unfairness in argument ; while the v^armest piety was raised to a higher and purer flame. It must not be omit- ted, that his evangelical sentiments and puritan morals were greatly conducive to his usefulness, as a professor. In consequence of his influence, infidelity among the students was gradually confounded, profanity and irreli- gion M ere awed and restrained, and the science of God was
22 MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN.
Studied with more seriousness and delight ; and it soon jbecame customary in all public performances, to speak of Christianity in terms of respect and veneration. The religious public manifested a gi-owint^- attachment to the University, and cherished a pleasing hope, that the youth, educated there, would not only be instructed in human science, but guarded against infidelity, and initiated into the true principles of the oracles of God.
During his professorship, he was frequently invited to preach in the neighbouring societies, and sometimes in distant places. His preaching was remarkably accept- able. There was not v/anting in his performances some- thing to command the respect of the ^\'icked, to please the taste of the polished, and refresh the souls of the saints. He willingly laboiu-ed in the ministry even above his strength, gladly embracing every opportunity to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to spread tlie savour of pure religion. "He was indeed a burning and shining light."
But that shining light was suddenly extinguished. When his amiable character had become generally known ; when his prospect of usefulness \\ as growing brighter ; when the sphere of his activity was extending, and the energies of his mind were most constantly ex- erted, his prospect was overspread, and his useful life closed. When ministers are best qualified to do good in the world, then are they often most ripe for the king- dom of heaven. To replenish the celestial mansions, the excellent of the earth are taken away.
Let tlie reader, for a moment, turn aside, and behold that scene, Avhere the good man's character is tried. Though Dr. Tappan's sickness was short, it was long enough to display his piet\% and to glorify the Saviour in whom he bciiuA'cd. The notice of his approaching
MEMOIRS OF DR. TAPPAN. 23
dissolution, though very sudden, did not discompose him.* With many expressions of humihty and self abasement, he declared his hope in the infinite mercy of God through the atonement of Christ. In redeeming grace he found rest to his soul. After such solemn and prayerful examination of himself, as bccometh a man hastening to the bar of eternal justice, he found reason to hope, that he was the subject of saving religion, and finally had strong consolation.
Only one or two particulars of his dying exercises will be mentioned. When his wife expressed some of the tender feelings, which were excited by the thought of parting with him, he said ; ^^ If God is glorified^ I am made forccer. Can't you lay hold of that ? Can't you lay hold of that?" To his sons, then undergraduates, he expressed his paternal concern for the welfare of the University. On being told, that the students were more attentive, than they had been to the Bible, he replied ; JVcll^ the Bible ever has been, and ever ivill be the best guide for young men. He died Aug. 27, A. D. 1803, aged 51.
Doctor Tappan's death was no common calamity. To the surviving partner and children, and other near connexions, the affliction was indescribable. Youthful genius and virtue mourned the decease of a friend and patron. The church and nation lost one, who had sought and prayed for their welfare. The University felt, that one of her pillars was fallen. Religion herself wept over the tomb of Tappan, who had pleaded her cause, lived for her honour, and rejoiced in the hope of her approaching triumph.
* Many interesting' particulars reppccting' the character and death of lir. T. will be found in the funeral sermon, wliich follows.
Tfie foUcruDmg is a complete List of the Publications of Dr. Tappan.
1, 2. Two Discourses delivered on the Sabbath after his Ordi- nation at Newbury,
3. A Sermon on the Character of Amaziah. 1782.
4. A Fast Sermon. 1783.
5. A Thanksgiving Discourse, on the Peace. 1783.
6. A Sermon on the Death of the Rev- Moses Parsons. DeCc
14, 1783.
7. Two friendly Letters to Philalethes. 1785.
8. A Sermon at the Ordination of Rev. Timothy Dickinson^ Feb. 18, 1789.
9. Address to the StudentsofAndover Academy, July 18, 1791.
10. Election Sermon, May 30, 1792.
11. A Sermon before an Association at Portsmouth. 1792.
12. A Farevvel Sermon at Newbury. 1793.
13. A Fast Sermon delivered at Cambridge and Charlestown,
April 11, 1793.
14. A Sermon at the Ordination of the Rev. John T. Kirklandi
Feb. 5, 1794.
15. A Sermon on eight persons drowned at Newbury, July 24>
1794.
16. A Discourse to the Class, which was graduated in 1794.
17. A Discourse to the Class, which entered in 1794.
18. An Address to Andover Students, July, 1794.
19. A Thanksgiving Sermon at Charlestown, Feb. 19, 1795.
20. A Discourse on the Death of John Russell, student, Nov.
17, 1795.
21. A Discourse to the Class, which entered in 1796.
22. A Sermon before the Convention of Ministers, June 1, 1797.
23. A Fast Sermon at Boston and Charlestown, April 5, 1798. 24,25. Two Sermons at Plymouth, after the Ordination of the
Rev. James Kendall, Jan. 5, 1800.
26. A Discourse on the Death of Gen. Washington, Feb. 21, 1800.
27. A Sermon at the Ordination of the Rev. Nathaniel H.
Fletcher, 1800.
28. A Sermon on the Death of Lieut. Gov. Phillips. 1802.
29. A Sermon at the Installation of Rev. Hezekiah Packard,
Sept. 1802.
30. A Discourse on the Death of Enos Hitchcock, D. D. Provi-
dence, 1803. 51, A Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Mary Dana, April, 1803.
32. Lectures on Jewish Antiquities. 1807.
33. Sermons on Important Subjects.
A
DISCOURSE,
delivered at cambridge,
August 29, 1803,
AT THE FUNERAL
OF THE
REV. DAVID TAP PAN, D.D,
UOLLIS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITV Ot CAMBRIDGE,
WHO DIED ON THE 27\h OF AUGUST, ^t. LI.
BY ABIEL HOLMES, A. M.
PASTOR OF THB FIRST CHURCH IK CAMBRIDCE.
A DISCOURSE,
DELIVERED AT THE
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN.
Acts xi. 24. He was a good man.
HE solemn stilness and melancholy aspect of this assembly, silently, but expressively, apply this character to the man, whose obsequies we are called to celebrate. Ye fix your eyes on these relics, and your first thought is, He was a good man. A sentiment so spontaneous and so universal, as this, carries vdth it one of the strongest evidences of its justness and truth. With this witness inyoursehesy therefore, ye are already prepared to attend to the de- lineation of the character, and happiness, of a good man, with special reference to the person, whose death we lament, and to the occasion, which hath convened us in this temple.
The person, to whom this character was applied in. the passage now recited, was Barnabas- His very name denotes the benignity and sweetness of his tem- per ; for it was given him by his fellow apostles, as expressive of his character. He was originally a Le- vite, of the Island of Cyprus ; but had now become a sincere and zealous convert to Cliiistianity. With the change of his religion, the apostles changed his name loses, by surnaming him Barnabas^ which signifies, The son of consolation. At the very first time of his in- troduction to our notice by the sacred historian, he ap-
4> DISCOURSE AT THE
pears in the generous act of selling his estate, to annex it to the fund, which the apostles were now raising for the regular and stated relief of poor Christians. We find him next engaged in the benevolent office of in- troducing Paul to the disciples at Jerusalem. When this Christian convert, soon after his conversion, at- tempted to associate with the disciples, " they were all afraid of him, and believed not that he was a disci- ple. But Barnabas," with that benevolence and kindness, for which he seems always to have been dis- tinguished, " took him, and brought him to the apos- tles, and declared to them how he had seen the Lord in the way, and that he had spoken to him, and how he had preached boldly at Damascus in the name of Jesus." The extent of the benefit often rendered to an incCvidual, and through him to the world, by one such seasonable act of kindness, performed by a good man, is incalculable.
In the next instance, Barnabas is presented to our view in the high character of an ambassador of Christ, employed on a very difficult, but most important mission. In Antioch, the capital of Syria, which for majmitude, situation, and other advantages, was the third city in the Roman empire,* there had recently been numerous conversions to the faith of Christ. The converts, made in this city, were the first fruits of the devout Gentiles out of Palestine, Of these con- verts there was formed a large Christian church, \\ hich was considered as the parent of the Gentile churches. In addition to these facts, chiefly collect- ed from the sacred history, a credible historianf in-
• See Benson's History of the first planting- of the Christian Rdijj- ion, I. 246.
I Josephus.
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. ;j
forms us, that there was a Jewish university in tlie city of Antioch. What a combination of gi*eat and good quahties ought that Christian minister to possess, who should be set for the defence of the gospel, in such u city ! No sooner did the church at Jerusalem receive intelligence of the success of the gospel in this Syri- an capital, than it sent forth Barnabas, as the person best qualified to confirm the young converts in the faith ; and by his able ministrations, by his concilia- ting manners, and by his excellent spirit, to silence their adversaiies. The event fully justified their choice- When Barnabas came to Antioch, and be- held the grace of God, manifested to the Christians in that city, he was glad, and exhorted them all, that ivith purpose of heart they would clea'ue to the Lord. The exhortation, from his mouth, was peculiarly graceful and energetic ; for he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost, and of faith ; a?id much people was added to the Lord.
In this amiable and excellent apostle, we discern some of the prominent traits of a good man. But this character requires a more particulai* delineation. A good man must not, for a moment, be imagined a phrase, to denote a perfect character. In an absolute sense there is but one good Being, that is God. There is not a just man upon earth, who doth good, and sin- neth not. Imperfection belongs to all creatures, es- pecially to the apostate sinners of the human race.
When therefore any one of the sons of men is calL ed a good man, nothing more can be justly intended by the expression, than that he is prevalently, and habitually, a man of virtue and piety.
A good man has radically a holy temper. By the apostasy, the image of God in the human soul has
S DISCOURSE AT THE
become polluted and defaced. The restoration of this image to its original purity and glory is the gi^and design of tliat redemption, which is revealed and proclaimed in the gospel. The very name of the Son of God was intended to express this design. Thou shah call his name Jesus ; for he shall sa'oe his people from their sins. This design the apostles of Christ, in conformity to the spirit of their Master's counsel and example, kept religiously in view. The doctrine of Paul was the doctrine of all the apostles : Our Saijioiir Jesus Christ ga^e himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity , and purify unto him- self a pjecidiar people, zealous of good works. The ac* tual influence of the gospel, accompanied by the Ho- ly Spirit, corresponds with the primary design of re- demption. It recovers sinners, of the most vile and profligate character, to a holy temper. Such were some of you : but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified^ hut ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God. The tendencies of the re- newed soul are turned from sin to holiness. The aft'ections of every good man are supremely fixed on God, the holy and perfect Being, the source and the centre of all happiness. Wliatever therefoi^e is dis- pleasing to God, is displeasing to him. He hates vain thoughts ; but cherishes such as are innocent, and especially such as are of a virtuous and lioly ten- dency. He abhors even himself so far as he discov- ers himself to be opposed to God and virtue, and repents as in dust and as/ies. Conscious of deep de- pravity, and of daily transgression, he entertains abasing sentiments of himself; and, while he takes the lowest place at the footstool of God, he is lium- ble in his intercourse with man. Instead of cher-
FUNERAL OF DR. TAP? AN. f
ishing a persuasion, whether erroneous or just, of his own superiority to other men, he is habitually in- clined to esteem others better than himself. He daily studies to regulate his appetites and passions ; and desires, and prays, that e'oery thought may be brought into capthity to the obedience of Christ. Such is the habitual temper of a good man. A holy disposition is radically fixed in his soul.
A good man lives habitually a holy life. It is on- ly such a life, that can render it suitable to apply to any one this elevated name and character. Latent goodness there may be, which has no opportunity to manifest ' itself in visible acts. Such virtue, wher- ever it exists, though unseen by any human eye, is seen, and will be finally approved, by the Judge of all the earth. But with no propriety can man call any one good, who does not, in his life, give visible proof of his integrity and piety. By their fruits^ said the Saviour, ye shall know them. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things*
His piety toward God is discovered, by a reveren- tial respect to his name, to his character, to his word, to his sabbaths, to his ordinances and laws ; by a steady and devout performance of the duty of prayer, in the closet, in the family, and in the asscm- bly of the saints ; by a deep concern for the honour of God, and for the interests of his kingdom ; and by a zealous and active endeavour to glorify him on the earth.
His benevolence toward man is discovered, by an habitual promptitude to rejoice with the cheerful, and to mourn with the sorrowful ; by a readiness to for- give injuries, and to recompense good for evil ; by a uniform aim to render to all their due, and to owe no
« DISCOURSE AT THE
man any thing, but love ; by doing good to all meri^ as he has opportunity and ability ; by treating the ac- tions of men with candour, and their persons with re- spect ; and by doing what in him lies to promote the temporal comfort, and the eternal happiness, of the great family of mankind. The good man is more than strictly righteous. Rectitude, in its common acceptation, is too low a standard for his virtue. He provides things honest,'^ or beautiful, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of all men. He endea- vours, not merely to maintain such a course of con- duct, as shall be free from just cause of censure, but such a course, as shall merit commendation. Not satisfied with merely giving no occasion to the adver^ sary to speak reproachfully, he is desirous by ivell do- ing to put to silence the ignorance of foolish men. Not content with the insignificant virtue of doing no dishonour to God and religion, he has a sacred ambi- tion to let his light so shine before men, that they may see his good works, and gUrify his Father ivho isf in heaven.
Deep is the origin of his moral virtue, and propor- tionably extensive is its influence. It arises not from a vague perception of the beauty of virtue ; from a sense of honour ; from the fear of shame ; from the traditions of ancestors ; from a Christian education ; fi-om the hope of reward ; from the fear of punish- ment. It springs from no such shallow or precari- ous sources. It takes its rise from that vjell of ivater^ which springs up into e'oerlasti?ig life. Yonder is the fount, fast by the throne of God. A cordial belief Ml God and in his Son Jesus Christ, and in the great
• x«X<«, Rom. xii. 17. 2 Cor. viil.St.
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. . 9
truths revealed in the divine word, is the source of the good man's virtue. How operative then, how incalculably extensive, must be its influence ! "A vital faith in the gospel," to use the words of this good man, w/zo, being dead^ yet speakethy " A vital faith in the gospel is a leading act and instrument of moral eoodness. It sets before us the most correct and sublime standard of duty ; it awakens sincere de- sires and efforts to reach it ; while it gives to these ef- forts encouragement and strength, perseverance and success. By bringing pardon to the penitent, and grace to the humble; by engaging divine power to uphold, and eternal life to reward the faithful Chris- tian, it inspires him with invincible courage and ac- tivity in the pursuit of perfection and glory. His sincere trust in and loyalty to Christ secure a virtu- ous improvement of all his talents, a diligent fulfil- ment of all his engagements, whether civil or relig- ious, and a steady performance of the various duties, which his particulai' calling or relations impose." These are but the outlines of the character of a good man. In his life we see them filled up, and shining forth, in all the beauties of holiness.
His happiness must be summarily noticed. It is a happiness, that partly results from his temper and character in this life ; and which will be rendered complete and perfect in the life to come. A good man, saith Solomon, shall be satisfied from himself. No man has such resources for comfort, and for ra- tional enjoyment, as the man of religion. Such re- sources ! The irreligious man has none. Having no hope, and without God in the %vorld, he can have noth- ing, \A hich can give him happiness or repose. He is
10 DISCOURSE AT THE
like the troubled sea, %vhc?i it cannot rest. His unhal- lowed pasyions, and upbraiding conscience, must per- petually agitate or torment him. The decree of Heaven too hath determined this a\\'ful destiny. There is 710 peace, saith my God, to the ivickcd.
But the good man has perpetual resources of com- fort and happiness. The regulation of his passions, and appetites is propitious to his tranquillity and peace ; the approbation of his conscience gives him pleasure, with which a stranger doth not intermeddle ; the hope of pardon and of " the applauding smile of Heaven" inspires him with holy and ele\ated de- light ; and the prospect of the perfection of his spir- it and of the completion of his felicity, in the para- dise of God, fills him with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
While the good man has such sources, as these, for comfort in life ; he has hope in death. At that solemn and eventful period, ^\'hen the world re- cedes, and its faiiest prospects vanish ; he is able to look up, and to Ift up his head, for his redcmptioti drawetJi. nigh. He is willing that his earthly house of this tabernacle should be dissohed ; because he has a building of God, an house iwt made with hands, eternal in the hea'oens. Death, in his ^'iew, is not a king of terrors^ but a messenger of peace. In the language of sacred triumph, hft exclaims : 0 death, where is thy stifig ? 0 gravcy where is thy victory ? I have fought a good fight ; I haiyc finisJied my course ; I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lords the righteous Judge, shall gi'ue me at that day. I Iia've a desire ta depart, and to be witli Christ, which is far better. JIven so, come. Lord Jesus.
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 11
These are but the harbingers of that bliss, v\hich is reserved for the good man in heaven. There his fehcity will be completed. There the holy tenden- cies of his soul ^^dil be carried into full effect. When he shall mingle with the sprits o^ just men made per- fect^ his own spirit shall attaiR perfection in holiness. Casting his crown before the throne, he sJiall unite with all the ransomed of the Lord in ascriptions of praise unto him who loi)ed them, and washed theni fr&7n their s'ms in his oivu blood ; and shall partake with them in that fulness of joy, which is in the presence of God, and in those pleasures , whic h are ai his right hand foreiiermore.
In that pienitiKle of joy, in those everlasting pleas- ures, the spirit of our deputed friend is, we trust, now pailicipating ; for he w-as a good man.
He api^eared radically to possess a holy temper. The habitual tendencies of his soul seemed to be towai'd God and religion. He always discovered a quick sensibility to right and ^vrong, to holiness and sin. Actions in any respect praise^^orthy gave him delight, \vhich he was neither desirous nor able to conceal. Signal acts of beneficence, or of piety, awakened in his bosom strong emotions of pleasure, and received his ardent commen- dation. The vices of individuals, especially flagrant and prevalent sins, excited at once his grief and abhorrence. It was very apparent, that sin^ whether committed by oth- ers or by himself, ^\as in his vie\v exceeding sinful. Hence he appears to have been excited to keep his own heart with all diligence ; to stand in a-we, and sin not. He w^as equally prompt and skilful to avail himself of every occurrence fur infusing religious instruction into the mind, or for impressing it on the heart. He singularl}- exemplified the apostolical precept : Let your speech h
12 DISCOURSE AT THE
airway imth grace ^ seasoned with salt, that ye may hi(mf how ye ought to answer eiiery man. He seemed to haiae no greater joy^ than to see men walking in truth, and to aid them in a holy course. He had his own con'versation i?t heaven, and was studious to raise that of others to the same sacred height. If then the treasure determines where the heart is ; if the fruit designates the quaUty of the tree ; if the stream demonstrates the nature of the fountain ; we have just ground to conclude, that he had a holy temper ; that a sanctified heart was the ^ital prin- ciple of his religion ; that he M^as born, not of blood, nor cf the will of the flesh, nor of the ivill of man, but of God,
This conclusion is justified by the holiness of his life; III the performance of the duties of piety he was uni- formly exemplary. As his heart was engaged, so liis life was occupied, about his Fathers business. The honour of God and of his Son Jesus Christ, and the ad- vancement of the Christian cause, were objects dear to his soul ; and to the promotion of them he was zealous- ly devoted.
In the performance of moral and relative duties, he was upright and faithful. His benevolence to mankind w^as habitually shown, by his tender sympathy in their distresses ; by his readiness to relieve their temporal or spiritual wants ; by his generous hospitality ; and espe- cially by his unabating desire and aim to bring all men, who were within the reach of his influence, to the knowl- edge of the truth, that tlicy might be saved. His re- ligion, derived from the fountain of purity, wvls pure and vndefiled in its nature, extensive and sublime in its in- fiuence. It inspired him \\\\\\ a philanthropy, xvhich counterfeit virtue can never feign. It prompted him, to do justly, and to Icce mercy, and to walk humbly vjith his God; to visit the fatlierlcss and widows, in their afflic- tion ; and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 13
His mental powers, and his literary attainments, ac. companied and sanctified by such eminent virtue and piety, signally qualified him for those high stations, which were assigned to him by the great Head of the church. His mind was distinguished for its vigour and activity. It was much employed in deep contempla- tion ; and was fertile in thoughts, at once original and entertaining, solid and refined, practical and useful. While he thought for himself, he was respectfully and delicately attentive to tlie sentiments of those, with whom he conversed. His unaffected modesty, which never forsook him, rendered him swift to hear, sloiv to speak.
He acquired his choicest learning in the school of that divine Teacher, who was meek and l&wly in heart. There he imbibed the spirit of his Master. To thos6 great sentiments, which he firmly believed, and ably vindicated, lie never authoritatively demanded the assent of others. If a subject were of small importance, he made the most generous allo^A^ance for that -diversity of opinion, which, among imperfect beings, of different dispositions, education, and habits, seems inevitable. His candour was, accordingly, equal to his humility. In disputation he was neither virulent, nor captious. Disregarding what affected not the merits of the ques- tion, he fastened his attention on those great points, by which the question must plainly be decided. Here he displa}'ed ingenuity of address, manliness of thought, and cogency of argument. Open and generous, he ap- peared honestly to contend, not for victory, but for truth.
With such an understanding and heart, united to the propitious opportunities and means of improvement, which he enjoyed at tlie university while a student, and
14 DISCOURSE AT TH£
in his subsequent intercourse \vith ' literary men, he made high attainments in useful knowledge, especially in theology. To this sacred science his own pious dispositions, in connection with the profession to wliich he early devoted himself, naturally pointed his primary attention, and assiduous study.
After having served God in the gospel of Im Son with all good fidelity eighteen years, among a people, who were affectionately attached to his person, and fond- ly delighted, as well as instructively edified, by his min- istry ; he was called forth to a higher and more exten- sive sphere of action. The rare assemblage of virtues and talents, which he possessed, and the celebrity of character, as a theologian, which he had now acquired, attracted the attention of HarA ard Uni-\ ersity ; and by the legislature of this Seminary he A\as chosen its Pro- fessor of Divinity.
More than ten years, he statedly performed the ardu- ous duties of this very important office. With what ability and fidelity he discharged them, it were difficult for me to recite, and superfluous for you to hear. My voice can add nothing to his eulogium. His praise is in all the churches. Within the University he has left a memorial of his ^vorth, more durable and more hono- rary than the monumental marble. Let it simply be remarked, that he was singularly diligent and laborious in the composition of his theological Lectures ; that these Discourses embraced the entii-e bod}- of divinity ; that the order of them was natural and lucid ; that the manner of their composure was a happy union of the ar- gumentative and persuasive ; that, together \a ith con- vincing demonstrations of truth, they contained judicious refutiitions of error ; that both their matter and form were discreetly adapted to the youthful and inquisitive
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 15
auditory, to w hich they were addressed ; that they were pronounced with a seriousness and energy, which evin- ced the sincerity of the speaker ; and that they were admirably calculated to form enlightened divines, and practical Christians.
As a preacher, his talents and character are too well known, to require elucidation. I cannot forbear how- ever from remarking, that his discourses in the pulpit were uniformly such, as became a Christian minister. They were evangelical discourses^ not moral essays. The great truths, which they contained, w^ere derived, not from the philosophy of Plato, of Epictetus, or of Sen- eca, nor from the boasted oracle of human reason ; but from the deep fountains of that grace and truths which came by Jesus C/irist. He taught the depravation of the heart ; the necessity of its renovation by the Spirit of God ; together with the utility and importance of the instituted means of religion. He greatly insisted on the divine character and mission, on the death and me- diation, on the atonement and intercession, of Jesus Christ the Saviour. He often inculcated the duties of faith in Christ, repentance for sin, and a holy life, as es- sential to salvation. While he addressed relia:ious truth to the understanding, he closely applied it to the conscience. The disguises of the heart he skilfully de- tected -y its latent foldings he admirably penetrated. He reduced the sinner to such dilemmas ; he so glaringly exposed the treachery of the false professor of religion, and the inconstancy of the true believer ; that it wa^ diffi- cult for either to suppress the consciousness of guilt, and the confusion of shame. On retiring from this temple, after attending his ministrations, the address of Louis XIV. to the eloquent bishop of Clermont, after hearing him preach at Versailles, has often occurred to me : *' Father, I have heard many great orators in this. chap-
IS DISCOURSE AT THE
el ; I have been highly pleased with them ; but for you, whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself; for I see more of my own character."
While he thus alarmed conscious guilt, and con- founded hypocrisy and impiety ; he with wonderful facility encouraged the sincere, though feeble, tenden- cies to virtue, and poured the balm of comfort into the contrite heart. In conformity to the example of his great Master, a bruised reed did he not break ; and the smoaking flax did he not quench. He took peculiar de- light in preaching good tidings to the meek ; in binding vp the broken hearted ; in prochiiming liberty to the cap- troes^ and the opening of the prison to them ivho are bound. He was a Barnabas, a son of consolation.
While his public ministrations were uniformly inter- esting and impressive ; his devotional exercises and discourses, on special occasions, were truly admirable. He intuitively discerned, and promptly seized, w'hat W'ould create in his auditory the deepest interest, and give to his discourse the liveliest impression ; and em- ployed the imagination and the senses, as handmaids to devotion and virtue. The weight and importance of his doctrines ; the fertility and justness of his thoughts ; the pertinency and beauty of his metaphors ; the vig- our and elegance of his style ; the simplicity and pa- thos of his elocution ; commanded the profound atten- tion of his auditors. But he possessed one advantage, incomparably superior to all these combined excellen- cies, an advantage, \\ hich rendered his discourses irre- sistibly commanding and persuasive ; He was a good man.
With such rare qualifications for the ministry, and w4th a heart filled with philanthropy, and animated with zeal to do good, it was natural for ministers, and for churches, in their afflictions or exigencies, to solicit his
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN, 17
solace and his aid. Such sohcitations he knew not how to resist. To his povoer fl bear record)^ yea, and beyond his power, he luas willing cf himself. Alas ! To this benevolent and pious charity he made the costly oblation of his last service. It was in the church at Brattle -Street* that he performed his last labour of love. Previously debilitated, he was inadequate to the public services of religion in that large edifice, and in a great assembly. The administration of the Lord's Sup- per increased the labours of that solemn day. From the sanctuary of God he repaired to his own home ; re- tired to his chamber ; sickened, and expired.
During his illness, he bore plenary testimony to those great truths of religion, which had been the chosen sub- jects of his ministry, and the sacred rule of his life. In an early stage of his sickness, his " hope," to use his own language, " was intermingled with overwhelming confusion, sorrow and shame." In its later stages, his disease was less spasmodic than it had previously been, and his mind was more tranquil. Among other interesting observations, he said; "The doctrines of grace, which contemplate men as sinners, and as re- quiring an infinite atonement, are the doctrines, which I must live and die by." On the morning of the day previous to his death, he had intimation of his danger. f
* In Boston, vacant by the death of the Rev. Dr. Thacher.
f He asked me, Whether I was able to collect any thing special from the physicians concerning' his case. I told him, that I had not seen his physi- cians that morning ; but gave him my own opinion of his danger, and ad- vised him, if there v/ere any thing on his mind, relating to his temporal or spiritual concerns, that he wished to disclose, to disclose it. He thanked me for the suggestion, and said, he would avail himself of it. He accord- ingly, during the day, addressed religious adWce to his children, and took leave of his family. — His relapse from » hopeful progress toward recovery
18 DISCOURSE AT THE
Having, in u conversation that ensued, expressed his Chiistian hope j he was asked, Whether he did not build that hope on the cor Jier stone laid in Sion, elect and prccit.us, " If I do not trust there," he: rephcd, *' I know not in what I do trust. I ha\e nothing else to trust in. Lord! to ivhom shall I go ? Thou ha^ the ivords of eternal life.'''' He was able to speak but lit- tle, during the day. After a pra}cr with him in the e\eiiing, he ^\as more collected, and more capable of conversing, than he had been since the morning.
In this conversation (alas, the last !) he said ; " I be- lieve the necessity of a conformity of heart to the truths of the gospel." On being asked concerning his hope, he replied, " My hope is, that I possess the Christian temper;" then pausing a httle, he added, "All my hopes are founded on the infinite mercy of God, and the perfect character and atonement of Christ." The next morning, he kne\v not his earthly friends ; but he seem- ed still to know in ivhom he believed. At the close of prayer by his bedside, his eyes were steadfastly direct- ed towai'd heaven ; his lips gently moved — in that act his immortal spirit departed.
Shall they, who arc wise, shine as the brightness of the
firmament ; aJid they, %vho turn many to righteous?iess, as
the stars Juret^er a?ul ever ? Such, we believe, \\'\\\ be
his everlasting splendour. Does ojie star differ from
another star in glory ? Of the first magnitude, and of the
wns surprising to others ; and tlie intimation of liIs danger was apparently untxpccted to himself. Tlie marmer, in which he received it, furnishes occasion I'or stricture on that I'alse tenderness, whicli conceals from the sick their dant^-er, and iroin the dying the approach of death. If the sick person be prepared for death, he may, by being seasonably apprized of his danger, have opportunity to impart useful counsels, and to show " in what peace a Christian can die." If he be unprepared, how spurious is that friendship, which steals away the remnant of his time, by deceptive artifi- ces, until there is noplace of repentance, though he seek it carifull^'idth tears !
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 19
strongest lustre, we are persuaded, will be diis lumi- nar}-.
To us, alas, it is extinguished ! What a gloom does that extinction tlirow over a bereaved family, oa er the university, over this church and the churches in general, and over our commonwealth, and country !
\Mth the afflicted Widow we tenderly sympathize ; and devoutly commend her to that Being, \\ iio hath, with condescension as consoling as it is wonderful, styl- ed himself a Judge of t lie widows in his holy habitation. The bereaved Children \A'e commend to Him, in whom the Jathcrkss find mercy ; to Him, who hath said, / will not lea've you orphans ;^ I will come unto you. Ye have been taught by the counsel and example of a pious husband and father, how to suffer affliction. Remem- ber that counsel ; follow that example ; and ye will find strong consolation^ and great religious improvement. For the aged Mother, honoured and blest with one cf the best of Sons, but surviving to witness the affecting scene of this day, we implore the benediction and solace of Almighty God. May He be \\qy present help in trouble ; her shield, to defend her ; her staft', to sustain her ; and her exceeding great reward, IVIay the surviv- ing brethren and sisters receive support and comfort from on high ; and regard the heavenly admonition, em- phatically addressed to them : Be ye also ready.
To the University we present our respectful and affectionate condolence. With the worthy President, Professors, and Tutors, we sincerely mourn, in the loss of their highly estimable friend, and very able and im- portant auxiliary. May the}-, together with the Hon- ourable and Reverend Members of the College Legisla. #
og^flfvifj. John siv. IS.
20 DISCOURSE AT THE
ture, religiously observe this affecting and monitory event.
With the Students of the University we feel a sympa- thy, too deep for utterance. Ye have lost a friend and a father. Your spiritual guide, your moral and relig- ious teacher is no more. His public and private in- structions ; his paternal advices and admonitions ; his benign aspect ; his sensibility^ to your best interests; his condescending and benevolent offices ; all rush into your view, and overvi^heim your hearts. Your tears flow. Ye sorrow most of all ^ that ye shall see his face no more. But let me not swell that tide of grief, already full. Remember hoiv ye have recehed and heard^ and hold fast ^ and repent. Let the instructions and counsels of that man of God, at whose feet ye have sitten with delight, be indelibly impressed on your memories, and perpetually influential on your lives. If ye respected him, if ye loved him, if ye applauded him > while living; if ye viould honour his name and memory, when dead ; be what he taught and exhorted you to be ; be what it was his heart's desire and prayer to God^ that ye might be ; be what he was. He was a good man. Be ye fol- lowers of him in his diligence ; in his activity ; in his meekness ; in his humility ; in his candour ; in his be- nevolence ; in his piety. So shall ye obtain the good man's reward. Ye shall be blessings and ornaments to society : ye shall secure the approbation and applause of all the virtuous and tlic good; ye shall obtain fa'uour of the Lord; ye shall have comfort in life, hope in death, and immortal glory.
The people of my Pastoral Charge will deep]}- bewail with me the removal of a good citizen, a good neighbour, a good m.an, from the bosom of our socici}'. May we, dearly beloved, be unitedly humbled under that divine
FUNERAL OF DR. TAPPAN. 2l
Stroke, which has deprived us of so rich and invakiable a blessing. His benevolent offices shall not be forgot- ten. May his kind and faithful ministrations in this sa- cred desk be specially remembered to our everlasting
benefit ! Our sister churches in the capital, and in
our vicinity, must peculiarly lament the death of the good man, from whom they have often received rich instruc- tion and seasonable comfort. The church, to which he formerly ministered in holy things, will affectionately remember her once loved pastor ; and mingle her tears with ours. Nor will any of the churches of New Eng- land be unmoved at the loss of one of their fairest orna- ments and firmest pillars.
The Commonwealth must mourn the loss of this good man, who honoured her magistrates, vindicated her interests, and supported her laws.
My fathers and brethren in the Ministry ! Too sensi- bly and tenderly do I feel my own loss, to remind you of yours. Has not our glory departed ? Let us cherish a sacred ambition, that it may be revived in us. How can it otherwise be revived, than by our assuming, and daily observing, that divine motto, which he selected
for us : HOLINESS TO THE LORD !*
What a deep gloom will be thrown over the approach- ing Anniversary If How quick the transition from these funeral rites to the effusions of genius and science i from the darksome tomb to the literary festival ! Let this mixture of various and opposite actions and events teach us impressi\'ely, to let our moderation be always known ; and to use, as not abusing^ this worlds the fash- ion of which passeth away. In the midst of our com-
* The text of his Sermon before the Convention of Ministers, A.D. 17^7. f The public Commencement, in the ensuing week.
22 FUNERAL DISCOURSE.
forts and pleasures let us ever remember, that z;z the garden there is a scpnlc/ire.
The removal of this good man, my respected audit- ors, points us to yonder world ; and admonishes us to be ready for our proper home. A voice seems to break from his lips, for the last time : Arise, let us go
HENCi;.
SEEMONS
BY
DAVID TAPPAN, D. D,
^eri
@)ermon l
On Christian Zeal.
Revelation iii. 19. Be zealous.
HESE words are part of our Lord's epistle to the church of Laodicea, one of the seven churches of Asia Minor, to each of which the King of Zion ad- dresses counsels and admonitions, reproofs or praises, suited to its peculiar character and state. The letter before us begins with a concise description of the moral state of this church. It represents her as neither cold nor hot, but as lukewarm or indifferent in religion, and expresses the divine abhorrence of such a disposition. In the text it exhorts her to be zealous in religion, in opposition to her present deadness and formality.
As this Laodicean indifference in religious con- cerns marks too many nominal Christians at this day ; while others are misled by a spirit of false zeal ; a ciit- ical attention to this subject may be equally seasonable and advantageous. Let us, therefore, distinctly consid- er the nature, obligation and importance of Christian zeal.
Zeal is an equivocal term, equally capable of a good and bad significalion. It is not so properly one partic- ular passion, as the heat or fervour of the affections in. general. The original word rendered zealous signifies exceedingly hot ; which imports a vehement exercise of the passions. Zeal then is either good or bad, accord- ing to its direction and management. Accordingly, c
4 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [SfiR. t
the sacred writers frequently use the term hi an ill sense, and sometimes in a virtuous one. St. Paul reckons it among tlie works of the Jlcsh^ that is, those vices which characterize the cainal and ungodly world. " The works of the flesh are hatred, strife, emulation," or zeal. So the cimying^ the hitter en^uyhig condemned by St. James is, in the original, zeal. The reason, A\hy it is so often placed among the vices, is because the heat of human passions is for the most part irregulai', cither in its motive and object, or in its manner and degree of op- eration- Zeal becomes a virtue, only when our affec- tions are fixed on proper objects, and suited, in man- ner and measure of exercise, to their nature and impor- tance.
Genuine Christian zeal takes its rise in a well regulat- ed or sanctified heart, and is equally opposed to careless indolence, and to a selfish, noisy, or censorious vehe- mence. It is a meek and humble, a kind and gentle .flame, as full of tenderness and goodness, as it is of ardour and boldness. It is, in the first place, enlighten- ed and chrected by kiioivlcdge. Zeal, \\ ithout this, is a blind and brufcil impetuosity, which tends to precipitate its subject into an endless Iab3Tinth of error, irregularity and mischief. A weak and ignorant mind and strong passions form a dreadful compound, and threaten de- plorable consequences.. If a man for want of knowledge think that to be tlie cause of God, which is directly the reverse, or that to be heretical or sinful, w hich is impor- tant truth or duty, it is evident that the more zealously he exerts himself in favour of the one, or in opposition to the other, in the same proportion he builds up false- hood and vice upon the ruins of truth and virtue. Where there is great heat and no light, it cannot be that iliununating fire which descendeth from above ; but is
Ser. I.] ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. 5
rather that dark, polluted flame, which fumes up from be- neath, w hich is earthly, sensual, diabolical. Such was the zeal of the bulk of the Jcavs in the apostolic age : " they had a zeal for God, but not according to knowl- edge. ' ' They had a glowing fervour in maintaining those legal rites, which God himself had ordained ; and from the impulse of this zeal for the law, they rejected Christ and his gospel, not kno^ving, as they might, or ought to have done, that he A\as the end of the law for right- eousness to every one that believeth. Thus the religious zeal of that generation, and of succeeding JeA\s to this day, was and is no better than blind, raging, obdurate infidelity. A cleai' and sound knowledge of the object is, therefore, essential to regulai- and virtuous zeal.
Secondly, it must also be tempered with prudence. For though the object of it be good, yet if there be not discretion to moderate and direct its career, it will be- come a pernicious and ungovernable fury, even in a vir- tuous cause. In the midst of the most pious zeal we have constant need of that caution, '^ Be ye ^\•ise as serpents, and harmless as doves." Prudence must ad- just our religious ardour to the real weight and impor? tancc of things ; lest like the ancient Pharisees, we ex- haust our zeal upon the outlines and appendages of reli- gion, and become regardless of its vital and essential branches. Great heat about circumstantials, and coldr ness respecting the substance of virtue and piety, argue either great ignorance or gross hypocrisy. Prudence must also direct our zeal in the choice of means for ac- complishing our end. No pretended zeal for a goocj end can sanctify or warrant a bad action. It is a vicious-, not a virtuous zeal to do evil that good may come ; to abdicate truth, justice, decency or honour, for the sak^ of suppressing error and vice, or fqr defending, or prop-
5 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [Ser.!.
agating Christian truth and righteousness. This is to commit sin ourselves in the support and under the mask of hoUness ; it is to stab religion with the very u capons we employ in its defence. Hence Job condemns such conduct in language of mingled surprize and detestation. "Will ye speak wickedly for God? Or talk deceitl'uUy for him?" Prudence must likewise temper the decree of our zeal and its mode of operation. Though both our end and means be of the best kind ; yet the flame of oijr passions, when wrought up to a high pitch, will greatly endanger both ourselves and our cause, unless Christian discretion guard our temper and conduct. Hence the apostle reproA^es the 2eal of the Corinthians, even in the exercise of their extraordinary/ spiritual gifts, because, for want of wise regulation, it produced great disorder in their religious assemblies ; such as one speaking in an unkno^vn tongue, a second singing, a thii'd teaching, another uttering a revelation, and even their women speaking in the church : upon which he remarks, '-'^112^, stranger should come in among you, will he not say, ye are mad ?" And proceeds to exhort them, and through them all succeeding Christians ; " Let all your things be done to edifying ;" "let all things be done decently and in order."
Thirdly. Zeal must ever be accompanied with charity. Charity or love, considered in its due extent, is the principal and most lovely grace of Christianity ; and ail religion is nothing ^\ ithout it. It must not there, fore be injured or sacrificed on every Ijttle occasion. It must not be violated on any occasion, merely to gratify our own humour or passions. We are commanded to fallow peace with all men, and to give up every thing but tmth and holiness for the sake of pleasing and edify- ing our brethren. L^ short, as true zeal js but the fire
Ser. I.] ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL, |
of love, the ardour of Christian benevolence ; so when it is pointed even against dangerous error, against scan- dalous and destructive wickedness, it assumes a mjld and composed, a tender and compassionate air, and thus discovers a warm affection to the person of the heretic or transgressor, a pungent grief for his sin and danger, and an earnest desire of his reformation and welfare, while it faithfully testifies against his fatal principles and conduct. Both prudence and charity demand the most kind and tender treatment, even of the most bitter enemies to gospel truth and holiness ; since this is the only promising method of rescuing them from their pre- sent dangerous condition. Besides, it is a shocking in- congruity to display an angry, overbearing or persecut- ing zeal in defending and enforcing those Christian doctrines and duties, which breathe nothing but love and peace, which reveal the astonishing benevolence and grace of God, and inculcate a corresponding temper on man ! Such an ungracious zeal for the doctrines of grace is self contradictory and self condemned ; it proves its possessors to be stmngers to the hearty belief and vi- tal influence of these doctrines, and of course ranks them in the black catalogue of practical infidels and hypocrites. This leads us to add, that as true religious zeal origi- nates in right affections of heart ; so it always begins its reformation at home. The subject of it first casts the beam from his own eye : his first and highest indigna- tion is pointed against his own faults, and is vigorously exerted for his personal correction and moral improve- ment. It is absurd to imagine that a person can truly hate sin in others, if he fondly cherishes or spares it in himself; or that he can earnestly seek the amendment and welfare of his neighbour or the public, if he have no regard to his ow^n. But when a man is properly zeal-
t ON CmilSTIAN ZEAL. [Ser.I.
oiis at home, he will, by nutiiral consequence, extend his charity abroad. He ^vill be zealous of good ^\orks, both in himself and others. True benevolence joined widi piety Mill quicken his zeal, both against die sin, and for the happiness of all around. David was grieved, yea, poured out rivers of tears, when he beheld trans- gressors. Lot was vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked Sodomites. Paul's spirit was inflamed with- in him, at the sight of Athenian idolatry. The- church of Ephesus is commended for not being able to bear them that are evil, and for trying and excommunir eating false heaited professors. Our Saviour himself v^'ith holy severity drove the money changers out of the temple, and thus verified that prophetic passage, " the zeal of thi'j-je house hath eaten me up." In conformity to these examples, true zeal will prompt tho most ear- nest, yet prudent efforts for the instruction and reforma- tion, for the present and everlasting interests of maur kind.
Having explained the nature of die duty enjoined, we shall now illustrate the ohUgatioiis^ ^vhich urge us to practise it.
First, the importance of - religion deserves tliis zeal. If natural and revealed religion be true, it it the great- est and most interesting of all truths, and therefore mer- its our most zealous regard. If there be a God, as natural religion teaches, he is certainly the most glorious and perfect of all beings, and sustains the most impor- tant relations to us. Now is it fit that we should treat such a iking with cold indifference ? That we should feel and express no warm emotion of love, gratitude, and veneration towards supreme, original beauty, good- ness and greatness ? Is it not reasonable that we should admire consummate wisdom, reverence omnipotent
Ser.i.] on christian zeal. 9
power, /ear and confide in impartial justice, temi>cred with infinite mercy, gratefully adore unbounded benefi* cence, constantly imitate and delight in perfect moral rectitude and glory ; that we should studiously seek the friendship, and avoid the displeasure of a Be- ing, whose favour is life, and whose anger is death ? If God be our Supreme Father, ought we not to pay him the highest tokens of filial regard ? If he be our Ruler and Judge, ought we not to yield him our cordial sub- jection and zealous obedience ? Should it not be o.iir main concern to obtain his final approving sentence ? To be zealous in our regards to the Deity, is the first dictate of reason and moral propriety ; but to treat the important character, relations, and approbation of such a Being, with unfeeling neglect, is the greatest incon- sistency, madness, and wickedness, which rational crea- tures can commit.
Again, the revealed perfections, offices, and benefits of Jesus Christ, loudly claim our pious and grateful zeal. To believe Jesus Christ to be the Son of God, and yet trample him under our feet ; to own him as our divine Prophet, and yet despise his instructions ; our great High Priest, and yet undervalue his atoning blood ; our divine King ; and yet neglect or insult his authori- ty and laws ; our only and all sufficient Saviour, and yet conduct as if we did not need, or could not safely trust his mediation ; w^hat shocking incongruities are these ! Yet this is the true picture of the lukewarm professor of Christianity ! He believes that Christ has exhibited the greatest love to sinful and wretched man, that ever was known ; yet he feeis no returns of love, no ardent sentiments of gratitude to this Philanthropist ! He can heartily esteem and thank a generous friend, who has made great exertions or sacrifices for his happiness ;
10 6N christian ZEAL^ [See. I.
he can almost adore the disinterested patriot, who has worn out his hfe in the service of his country ; yet he regards with indifference that great Friend of souls, who Was nailed to the cross for his own rebellious creatures, and submitted to immense labour, humiliation, and suf- ferings for their salvation I Can any thing be more ab- surd and abominable than this ? Do not such miracles of condescending and expensive love, as the gospel dis- plays, demand the most ardent and admiring gratitude ? .Yes,
" Passion is reason, transport temper here."
Further, That future, eternal state of retribution, which religion reveals, challenges our zealous attention. To believe in a future happiness reserved for the righteous, a happiness large as our utmost capacities and wishes, and lasting as our immortal spirits ; to believe also in a contrasted state of misery of equal intenseness and du- ration, destined for the finally impenitent ; and yet prac- tically to regard both the one and the other as consum- mate tiifles ; to estimate the momentary pleasures and pains of a dying life, above tlie perfect joys and sorrows of eternity, is certainly the most prodigious inconsist- ency and madness ! Those Cliiistian professors, who act in this manner, do either really believe in these fu- ture scenes, or they do not. If the latter, they are not only inexcusably blind and hardened infidels, who have resisted the clear light of reason, conscience, and revela- tion, but they are likewise guilty of trifling both with God and man, by a mock profession, which is contradicted by their sentiments, as well as their practice. If the form" er, they are still more inconsistent and monstrous ; for they believe and trifle ; while the very devils believe and tremble^ Surely endless, inconceivable blessedness and misery ai'c sufiiciently important to require the most
Ser.L] on christian zeal. u
solemn, earnest, unremitted attention of those, who must quickly inherit the one or the other !
As tlie leading doctrines of religion, so its various duties demand our utmost zeal. The offices of piety, which n e owe to God and his Son, should be animated with the greatest warmth and vigour of affection. Rea- son as well, as revelation requires us to love him with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength ; to fear and trust, to worship and obey him, with the greatest possible reverence and delight ; to mention his glorious name vvith awful admiration ; to read and hear his word with an esteem, love, and submission becoming the maj- esty of the Author, and the greatness of the Master ; to confess our sins to him with the deepest contrition ; to beg his forgiving and saving mercy with fer^'ent impor- tunity ; and to celebrate his benefits with the most live- ly thankfulness. Reason and Scripture also demand, that our relative and moral duties, our works of justice and charity be performed in good earnest, in the exer- cise of that hearty and zealous love to our neighbour, which regards him, as another self, and seeks his good, as our own. In a word, zeal in religious and moral du- ties constitutes their very life ; for as the essence of vir- tue lies in fervent love to God and man, it follows, that a cold, indifferent temper destroys the very spirit both of piety and morality, and turns them into a mere car- case without the soul. Hence the Scriptures constantly describe the Christian life, as one continued effort of la- borious zeal ; as a race, a fight, an agony ; v, hich leads us to ol>serve.
Secondly, That as the excellence and importance of religion deserve our zeal, so the dilficiilties attending it render this zeal absolutely necessary. The service is so arduous, attended with so many self-denying duties,
H
12 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [See,!.
and with such various, powerful, and discouraging oppo- sitiou ; that, unless we possess a large fund of holy zea! and vigour, we shall be apt to tu'e, despond, and give over the conflict. A deliberate, confirmed zeal must furnish the weapons and sinews of this spiritual ivarfare. Under its animating and fortifying influence we must run, and not be \\eary ; and walk, and not faint.
Thirdly. We can ha^'e no comforting evidence of our own sincerity, without a becoming fervour in relig- ion. For Mhere the object is so great and momentous, a sincere concern about it must imply zealous regard ; of course the want, or even decay of this must destroy, or at least darken our religious evidences and prospects, and check the delightful consciousness of our Chiistian integrity.
Fourthly. Our usefulness to the Christian cause and to the best interests of mankind depends on our compli- ance with the precept before us. If religious profes- soi's are not zealous in their holy calling, instead of prop- erly exemplifying and recommending Cliristianit}', they will hold it up to the world in a suspicious, if not con- temptible light, and give occasion for the belief, that they themselves secretly reject and despise it. Thus, instead of promoting, they will obstruct the faith and happy influence of religion among , their fellow- men. But a uniform, well tempered zeal in theii- profession at once evinces to beholders their own sincere and enlightened attachment to it ; displays to their view the reality, the beauty, and moral eiTicacy of its doctrines and precepts ; while it directly prompts the most assiduous endeavours to make them truly good and happy ; and thus in vari- ous methods advances the interest and honour of the gospel and its divine Author.
Fifthl}-. The examples of the best of men in every age, of all the holy prophets, apostles, and martyrs, of
Ser.1.1 on CHRISTIAN" zeal. If
the blessed angels, yea of God, of Christ, and the Holy Spirit urge us to be zealous. They call upon us to emulate their sacred ardour, and thus successfully co- operate ^\uth them in the most glorious, and benevolent cause. To use the words of a very eminent British courtier, " Ah, my friends, while we laugh and triPie, all things are serious around us. God is serious in calling and beaiing \^ ith us, Christ is serious, who shed his blood for us. The Holy Ghost is serious, "sv ho stri\-eth ascainst the obstinacv of our hearts. The Holy Scriptures bring to our ears the most serious things in tlie ^\orld. The holy sacraments represent the most a-w- iiil and aifecting matters. The whole creation is zealous in serving God and us. All nature is full of ardent en- erg}' and exertion, is in constant labour and travail for our happiness. All, that are in heaven or hell, are seri- ously engaged. How then can we sleep and trifle ?" we, for whose sake this universal zeal is expended !
Finally. Our opportunities for zealous and useful ac- tivity ai'e very short and uncertain ; yet these opportu- nities are our only seed-time for eternity. Since then the time of life and exertion is flying ; since death is has- tening ; since funeral knells are continually calling ; shall we not eagerly improve our precious, but fleeting mo- ments in the great business, for which we Vvcre made and redeemed, and on which infinite consequences are suspended ?
Our subject, in the review, may serve to explain and enforce the important use of the passions in religion. For it has been shown, that Christian zeal, which is the soul both of piety and virtue, is nothing else, than the due and ardent exercise of the affections upon their high- est objects. Consequendy, to exclude the affections from our spiritual affairs upon the idea, that religion is a reasonable service, is equally absurd, unscriptural, and
14 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [Ser. L
pernicious. Perhaps the Christians of former ages laid too much stress upon a severe and superstitious strict- ness in the duties of morality ; upon m.echanical and enthusiastic fervours and raptures in rehgion ; and many substituted these in the room of substantial virtue and godliness. But from this extravagant or perverted use of religious zeal in preceding ages it would be wrong to infer, as some of the present generation seem disposed to do, that the passions ought to be wholly shut out from the Christian life, and that piety and virtue, in or* der to be rational, must consist merely in the cold ap- probation and the decent external performance of duty. Certainly the passions, considered as an original part of our constitution, are not in their OAvn nature either un- reasonable or useless ; but greatly the reverse. Nor can it be justly said, that the objects of religion do not de- serve the homage, or its duties and difficulties require the aid of our aft'ections ; for the reverse of both is loudly proclaimed by reason and Scripture, as we have seen in this discourse. Nor can it be truly asserted, that the passions are too mean and gross a part of our frame to be a suitable and acceptable oblation on the altar of re- ligion ; for that pious fervour, which we now advocate, is something unspeakably more noble, than those un- meaning and tumultuous animal emotions, tvhich visi- ble objects fiequently excite, or which religious consid- erations sometimes produce in persons of warm consti- tutions. It is nothing else, than the strong exercise of mental or spiritual aiieciions, such as love, gratitude, hope, confidence, and joy towards the invisible, the in- finite Parent and Redeemer of the world ; affections, which, fiu- from terminating in short-lived mechimical transports, manifest their rational origin aiid qualit}% their sinceriiy and streagi.h by their permanent and universal influence upon the temper and conduct.
Seb.i.] on christian zeal. X$
Surely this employment of our affections- is the most worthy and acceptable homage ^\ e can possibly render to the Deity ; and nothing short of this deserves the name of rational piety, or even of sound morality : for the cool perception, or even the lifeless performance of what is right falls essentially short of true ^-irtue ; be- cause it does not include the supreme affection of the heart, which, in the view both of reason and Scripture, is the great source of moral goodness. In a word, it is the main office and glory of the Christian dispensation, not to set aside or extinguish our affectiofrs, like the unnatural and barbarous system of the stoics, but to rec- tify their disorders, and thus to bring them back to their original end, namely, the service of God, and the moral perfection and happiness of man. Agreeably, the descriptions, the precepts, and examples of piety, held up in the Bible, constantly inculcate such a fervent, yet judicious exercise of religious affections, as we have been recommending ; while the doctrines of revelation are admirably fitted to excite and promote it.
Let us throw open our minds to the influence of the apostolical precept ; and especially let it be our first con- cern, that our hearts may steadily feel, and our conduct express those various affections, \\ hich the great and mer- ciful discoveries of the gospel demand. Let those, v, ho have hitherto treated these matters v* ith careless indiffer- ence, consider the shocking impropriety of such a be- haviour. Let them awake from their fatal slumbers, and earnestly seek the grace and salvation, ^hich Cliristian- ity offers. Let Christian professors realize, how -unbe- coming a lukewarm temper is in so sacred a profession. Let them abhor the thought of a timid or treacherous neutrality at a time, when the name and interest of their blessed Master are openly blasphemed and powerfully
16 6N christian 2EAL» CSer.L
opposed. Let them resolve, at such a crisis, to be ei- ther constant, exemplaiy Christians, or avowed in- fidels.
Let those of us, who either are, or propose at some future period to be, public Christian instructers, deep- ly imbibe and assiduously cultivate the Christian spir- it. Such persons are eminently bound to be zealous friends to religion themselves. To use the Mords of a masterly writer on this subject,* " It is of the utmost consequence, that a speaker in the pulpit firmly believe both the truth and importance of those principles, which he inculcates on others ; not only, that he believes them speculatively, but have a lively and serious feeling of them. This will give an earnestness and strength, a fervour of piety to his exhortations, superior in its effects to all the ails of studied eloquence ; and, ^^ ithout it, the assistance of art will seldom be able to conceal the mere declaimer. This will make his discourses solid, co- gent, and useful ; it will prevent those ostentatious ha- rangues, which have no other aim, tlian to amaze an audience, or raise their admiration of the speaker." I cannot forbear adding, that, as open dissipation or profli- gacy in a young member at the university, -who after- wards becomes a preacher, must give a lasting \\ ound to his reputation, comfort, and usefulness in that profes- sion, as was largely shown to us, the last Lord's day ; so a theological student, who, with the sacred desk in his e3'e, has so little virtuous zeal, as to be afraid or asham- ed to bear the least testmiony against irregularity, Aice, or even irreligion in his fellow students, affords a poor presage of that independent integrity, courage, and ar- dour in reproving sin, and promoting the cause of holi- ness, which are leading traits in the faithful and useful minister of the gospel.
• Dr. Blair.
Ser. l] on christian zeal, 17
Finally. To awaken and keep alive in all our bosoms the holy zeal now inculcated, let us maintain a constant and familiar intercourse with the great objects and in- citements of it. Let serious meditation and devotion accompany a regular and affectionate attendance oa all the institutions of our holy religion.
I shall close with briefly pressing the duties before us on all classes of my hearers. Let holy zeal and en- ergy animate all the various pursuits, to which you are called. Let the duties, even of your secular callings, be peiformed with serious diligence. Remember, that the highest as well, as lo'west grades in human society are bound to fill up their time and rank in the community with some kind of useful and zealous industry ; and those, who think themselves above this obligation, \A'ould do well to consider that dreadful sentence, " Cast ye the slothful, unprofitable servant into outer darkness, where is weeping and gnashing of teeth." Let parents and governors of families, while they reflect on their solemn and arduous trust, be incited to discharge it in the most earnest, yet prudent and tender manner. Let the ^\•ords of God, the instructions of religion and virtue be con- tinually in our heaits and mouths ; and let us teach them diligently to our children, talking of them when we sit in our houses, when we walk by the way, ^\ hen we lie do\vn, and when we arise up. Let neighbours and friends endeavour ^ith prudent zeal to enlighten, re- claim, establish, or comfort their ignorant or ungodly, their erroneous, watering, or disconsolate brethren. Let those, who are distinguished by their talents and wealth, their power and influence, be as rich and zeal- ous in good works, as they are eminent in useful ability. Let unrenewed, impenitent sinners awake from their fa- tal slumbers, and earnestly seek divine mercy and salva- tion. Let me addi^ess each of them, as the mai'iners
18 ON CHRISTIAN ZEAL. [Ser. I,
did Jonah. ** What meanest tliou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God ; if so be that God will think upon thee, that thou perish not." If endless bliss or wo be of any importance to thee, rouse from thy careless indo- lence ; consider and bewail thy sin and misery ; look out for the needful and appointed remedy ; cry mightily to the divine Saviour for his reconciling, restoring grace ; never rest, till thy soul has sensibly received the trans- cript of God's law, the impression of Christ's gospel, and thus the image and friendship of thy Creator ^nd Redeemer.
Let Christian professors realize, that nothing can be more unbecoming, disgraceful, or pernicious, than a lukewarm temper in so sacred a profession. Let them therefore resolve to be either cold or hot; zealous Christians, or consistent avowed infidels.
Let declining, or doubting saints penitently return to their former zeal, and to their first w^orks. Let them dil- igently search the Scriptures and their own hearts ; and in every suitable and prescribed method wait earnestly, yet patiently and submissively on God for renewed ani- mation and comfort in the religious life.
Finall}-. Let Christians in general carry a spirit of holy zeal into all the duties, which they owe to themselves, to theii fellow men, and to their God. To this end let each one bring home to his heart such questions as these. Can I do no more, than this, for that Being, who gave and deserves my all, and who has shown me infinite favour ? Can I do no more, for my Sa\'iour, W'ho died and endured so much, so patiently and gen- erously for me ? Can I do no more, when my own eter- nal salvation is the prize ? Can I do no more for my neighbours, fiiends, children ; for the church of my blessed Master ? Can I do no more, a\ ho have loitered so long, Avho am no\v perliaps doing my last ; who have
Ser.i. on christian zeal.' 19
so many encouragements and helps ; so many mercies to draw, and afflictions to rouse me ; who chose such a Master, such a work, and such a reward ? Let us plead these questions with our own hearts and with our Maker ; till we duly feel their quickening power ; till we become as a flame of fire in the service of God and our generation.
On brotherly Reproof*
Leviticus xix. 17.
T/iou shaft not luite thy brother in thine heart i thou shah in any wise rebuke thy ne'ighboury and not suffer sin upon him.
I
T is a subject of just and general complaint, that- honest and faithful friendship in our mutual communi- cations and dealings is become ver}^ unfashionable ; and a style of flattery and dissimulation has crept into our ordinary social intercourse ; insomuch that the good old practice of generously pointing- out, and endeavour- inp* to rectify, the eiTors and faults of our neighbour, is in a gi"eat measure lost, CA^en among Cliristian profes- sors.
As this instance of modem degeneracy is both sinful and pernicious, it is the duty of religious instructers to^ bear an open testimony against itj and to enforce this testimony by tlicir private and public example.
The words just recited are excelletitly adapted to such a design, as they earnestly inculcate the duty of re- proving our offending brethren. " Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart ; thou shalt m any wise re^ buke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him.'*
Several things in this precept deserve our particu-. lar notice.
First. We are commanded rather to reprove our neighbour openly, than to cherish secret hatied against
«ER. !1.3 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF^ Si
him for any injury or offence, which he has offered to us. We are forbidden to " hate him in our hearts," that is, to conceive secret disaffection to him, and conceal resentful, vindictive passions under the veil of silence, or apparent friendship, till we have a full opportunity of retaliating. But we must rather give vent to our honest displeasure at the offence, by dealing openly and faichfully with the offender. In this way we must endeavour to convince him of his fault, and thus extinguish our own resent- ment. We must rebuke him to his face, for any fla- grant evil, in opposition both to divulging bis transgres- sion to others, like mean and cruel talebearers (which is strictly prohibited in the preceding verse ; ) and to base- ly flattering, encouraging, or justifying him in his sin.
Secondly. We are tlius to reuke him, in a spirit of love. For the duty of reproof being here opposed to inwai'd ha- tred of our brother, implies of course the contrary af- fection of love, prompting our efforts to convince and re- form him, and thus secure his forgiveness, virtue, and final happiness. Friendly rebuke then is an essential of- fice of mutual charity, which ought both to be perform- ed and received in love. " Let the righteous smite me," said an eminent saint, " and it shall be a kindness^" How faithful and salutary are these wounds of a friend !
Thirdly. Observe the great strictness of tiie com- mand ; " Thou shalt in any wise rebuke him ;" that is, thou shalt, by no means, on no pretence, omit this friend- ly oflice ; \\ hich denotes, that however ready men are to frame reasons for neglecting it, none of those excuses will by any means annul the binding force of this duty, or exculpate the omission. For observe.
Fourthly, The gi'eat guilt and mischief incurred by such neglect. It is here construed into hatred of our broth- er, and suffering sin upon him ; that is, sufferiui^ him to
S^ ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. I;,
be under the. guilt of a sin, from which our kind and seasonable reproof might instrumentally save him. Or the words might be rendered, " and," or " so thou shait not bear sin for him," or on his account; that is, thou shalt not involve thyself in his guilt, as thou certain- ly wilt do, if thou dost not take this method to reform him. If we reprove not the unfruitful works of dark- ness, we have fellowship with them, and become par- takers in their guilt.
The text, thus explained, compared with similar passages of scripture, and with those great principles of nature and Christianity, which require us to love our fel- low men, as ourselves, and promote their best interests by every suitable method in our power, sufficiently evinces, that mutual reproof of failings and sins in each other is an important social duty. We are all as much bound to perform this office to an offending brother, as we are to awake our neighbour from sleep, when his house is in flames, or to admonish him of his danger and urge him to repel it, when we see liim attacked by a ma- lignant disease. That modish civilit}^ or prudence, which pretends not to see, or seeing will not reprove, the faults of others, argues not a truly kind and tender, but a selfish, unfeeling, and unchristian spirit ; a spirit, which makes private interest and ease the centre of all its actions. If all mankind, from the beginning, had been uniformly governed by this self-seeking spirit, so- ciety could not have subsisted. In other words, if no man had felt himself interested in the welfare of others as well, as his own, men either could not have united in social intercourse, or being embodied, must soon have been scattered and dissolved. Hence a cold in- sensibility and disregard to the moral conduct and wel- fare of our neighbour is a high offisnce against society
S^R, II.l ON BROTHERLY REPRO<^F. 23
as well, as Christianity, and of course against tliat Be^ ing, who is the supreme Founder and Guardian of both ; it strikes, not only at the well being of individ- uals, but at the existence both of the church and conir jnonwealth.
But though all men are thus bound to seek the ref- ormation of transgressors by faithfully repro\ing them ; yet this duty eminently belongs to some particular clasr ses of mankind ; I mean diose, who are peculiarly en^ trusted with tlie superintendence of others. All aur- thority over others makes the governor, in some sense, accountable for the behaviour of the governed ; conscr quently the former is as truly obliged to notice and guard the actions of the latter, as to watch over his own.
Those magistrates, parents, and instructers of youth, who neither regard nor reprove the vices of those under their care, betray a most sacred and important trust, Those civil officers are eminentiy guilty m this respect, whose peculiar function and solemn oath bind them to investigate and animadvert upon certain offences ; who yet, in defiance of those sacred engagements, wilfully shut their eyes, their ears, and their mouths, against the most flagrant transgressions, instead of faithfully arming against them the sword both of private reproof ancj public justice, Those parents, too, will be called to a terrible account at last for the blood of their children, who have suffered them to perish before their eyes, on^ ly for want of telling them their sin luid their danger.
Those Christian teachers likewise incur dreadful guilt, who refuse to see, or neglect to reprove, irreligr ious and demoralizing principles, or prevailing practical impiety and \4ce, especially when these evils are spreadr ing over the Christian world. Oil. the other hand, that minister deserves a double tribute of gratitude and
24 CN BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. IL
honour, especially from his own people, who is ready to risk, and even to sacrifice, his own temporal ease^ profit, reputation, yea, his worldly all, rather than witli- hold from them such information, admonition, and re- proof, as he believes in his conscience to be essential ta their best interests.
Such a truly independent, magnanimous, yet benev- olent spirit ought to characterize every professed disci- ple, especicilly ever}^ minister, of that self-denying Re- deemer, who cheerfully sacrificed his own comfort^ honour, and even life to the great business of reprov- ing, healing, and saving a distempered, perverse, and unthankful world. This courageous and active zeal, however, by no means precludes, bat rather implies, as we shall presently see, that Chriatida meekness and dis- cretion, which are necessary to die accepLance and suc- cess of our faithful adniouitions.
Another description of persons, to \\ horn this duty of reproof pecuiiai'ly belongs, is the class of professed and intimate friends. Every man may justly challenge this office from his bosom associate, as an indispensable debt of friendship. For, to use ihe language of an elo- quent viriter, '' To ^hat purpose does a man take another person into his heart, so as to make him hia second self, his second conscience, if the latter will not be impartial in observing, reproving, and amending his faults as well, as in applauding and improving his vir- tues ? Can that man truly love me, can he leei to\\ard me like a generous, conlidential friend, who leaves mc unwarned, unguarded, unassisted, when he sees de- fects and improprieties in me, Avhich I overlook in my- self, and which, if uncorrected, will injure my comfort and imnrovement, mv rerm^a^ion a^d UFcfnb^.ess ? No» It is the nature of love to cover a multitude of sins ;
Ser. n.l ON BROTHERLY REPROOF, ^
and one instance of this is to cover them from the eyes of others, by faithfully discoverin,^ them to the offender himself, and iJiereby engaging him to watch over and supr>ress them."
Let me then earnestly recommend this expression of trie friendship to all, who are united by its endearing and sacred bonds ; to those, who are intimately con- nected by nature, by agreeable neighbourhood, by fa- miliar association, especially by those domestic ties, which render two persons in an eminent sense one. What singular advantages and proportionate obliga- tions are these under, particularly the last, to correct each other's failings in the most insinuating and effica- cious manner, and thus to guard and improve each other in virtue, in mutual Christian affection, and happiness !
But here an important question arises. How ought this delicate task of administering reproof to be per- formed, so as most effectually to reach the end? I answer.
First. Let the reproof, if possible, be given in se- cret ; for the design of it is, not to disgrace, but reibi-m the offender. But the publication of his miscarriage tends only to exasperate and hai'den him in ti-ansgi-es- sion. Yet such is the malignity, the imprudence, or the love of telling and hearing some new thing, which generally prevails, that a person who has committed a fault, instead of being admonished and recalled to vir- tue by the private and tender voice of friendship, too commonly finds himself, in the first instance, the victim of public reproach. But is this consistent with the law of Christian prudence and love, or even of common hu- manity ? Has not our beievolent Master prescribed a very different line of conduct ? His he not expressly directed us, " If thy brother has offended thee, go and
26 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. IT.
tell him his fault between thee and him alone?'* If this step succeed, tlie brother is gained, and his offence is to be forever buried. If this secret application fail, then "take with thee two or thi-ee witnesses."
How amiable is this process ! It savours equally of tenderness to our brother's reputation and comfort in this world, and to his eternal salvation in the next. Accordingly, even the popish religion, which enjoins confession of sins to the priest, inflicts the severest pen- alty on him, if he divulge any thing, revealed to him in such confession. When will the protestant -v^orld learn from despised papists to practise equal prudence and charity !
Secondly. Let the style and manner of our reproofs be suited to the rank and condition of the reproved. If an inferior be called to reprove a superior, let him man- ifest the same deference and submission on this occa- sion, as in the most direct and solemn expressions of rcsoect. Even truth, unseasonably or disrespectfully delivered, especially in cases of rebuke, usually irri- tates, instead of curing, m.en's vicious passions. It leads them to hate truth and virtue, on account of the forbidding garb, in which they appear. In this case the reprover is really a partaker in the sin of the of- fciidcr ; because he directly confirms him in it. With what modesty and delicacy did Daniel repro\e king Belshazzar, a most insolent, debauched, and sacri- legious prince, who had just profaned the sacred ves- sels of God's sanctuary at a licentious feast ; yet instead of reproaching him in rough and bitter language, he calmly recounts to him the signal mercies and judg- ments of Heaven upon his father Nebuchadnezzar, and then gently adds, " And thou, his son, hast not hum- bled thine heart, though thou knewest all tliis." Such
Ser. 11:1 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. §^
a discreet and respectful manner recommended both his person and his admonition. Let all reprovers, both public and private, imitate this lovely example. Let them seek, by a prudent and respectful mode of ad- dress, to insinuate needful reproof into the affections of men, and thus to give it desirable success ; which brings me to add,
Thirdly, Rebuke must be dispensed in a meek and compassionate manner. Nothing can be more unbe- coming and cruel, than haughty, sarcastic, or insulting treatment of a guilty brother, which seems to triumph in his pain and confusion. The spirit of Christian charity forbids all scun-ilous reflections on the person reproved, and every needless aggravation of his offence. It requires us to probe his wound with the hand of ten- der pity, as those who participate in the distress, which duty and love compel us to inflict, and who wish to ex- cite no more anguish, than the real necessity and bene- fit of the patient demand. We have an excellent mod- el of this compassionate manner of reproving in the prophet Nathan, when sent to admonish David of his shocking guilt in the affair of Uriah. Instead of di- rectly painting, in strong and aggravated colours, the crimes of adultery and murder, he imperceptibly steals into David's conscience and heart, by the nicest arts of gentle address. By reciting a most apposite and mov- ing parable he leads the guilty monarch insensibly to pronounce his own condemnation. Having thus brought him to confess his sin, he adds not one severe word to heighten his afiliction, but hastens to comfort him u'ith an assurance of divine forgiveness, seconded, however, by a kind but faithful warning ; " The Lord has put away thy sin, thou shalt not die,-^ — Howbeit, as by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the ene- mies of the Lord to blaspheme," th}' infant son, the
2a ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. (Ser.II,
offspring of thy crime, " shall surely die." How ten- der^ yet how elfectuial, was this manner of dealing !
This compassionate style of reproof is ever connect- ed with a humbling sense of our own guilt and remain- ing depravity, and a thankful acknowledgment of that divine grace, which has preserved us from the same or even greater vices, than those, wnich we reprove in oth^ ers. This humility and pious gratitude will prevent us from looking down upon offenders,, as the proud Phari- see did on the poor Publican, with a boasting, vain glorious air; and will lead us to adore the distinguish- ing mercy of God in keeping, or delivering us from those temptations, by which others have fallen.
Fourthly. Reproof must not be continued or re- peated, after the occasion is removed by the reforma- tion of the offender. When our guilty brother repents, he ought to be forgiven ; and, if we forgive a crime, we ought to forget it ; that is, to feel and beliave, as if we had forgotten it, in a friendly and respectful manv- ner, as we treat those, who have never offended us.
If those, who call themselves Christians, would dil- igently dischai-ge the duty before us, in the manner now recommended, they would evidence and promote their brotherly love to the best advantage. Their ad- pionitions, for .the most part, would be kindly receiv- ed, and would frequendy, by the divine blessing, pro- duce the desired effect. Such faithful reprovers would, at least, preserve their own souls from sharing the guilt and ruin of their offending bretliren ; and would pos- sess unspeakable comfort and benefit in the present ap- probation and improvement of their own minds, and in tlie final applause and recompense of their Judge.
Let these considerations prevail on you, my breth- ren, to comply in good eai-nest with the precept of the text. Remember that it forbids you, on any prcr
S^R.II.l ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. 2^
tence, or for any reason whatever, to omit this humane and benevolent office. Be entreated then to banish tiie excuses, and to remove the causes, which obstruct or mar your performance of this duty.
Some of you are perhaps deterred from reproving others, by a consciousness that you are equally guilty yourselves. You cannot with any spirit or confidence press those duties upon your neighbours, or even your own ciiildren, which you yourselves secretly or openly neglect. You cannot rebuke them for sin, when you commit the same, or equal transgressions. You have not courage, by atternpting to reform them, to expose yourselves to that cutting retort, " Physician, heal thy- self." Those parents, rulers, or masters, those Chris- tian professors and teachers, may well be afraid and ashamed to reprove and exhort others, who are not re- ligiously careful of their own temper and conduct ; for the admonitions of such can have little authority, ac- ceptance, or utility. All of us, therefore, especially those, who are appointed to watch over others, have a double motive to attend to ourselves, since without this attention we can neither save ourselves, nor usefully perform our duty to mankind, but directly contribute to the destruction of both. Let our charity, then, be- gin at home, in the thorough conversion and genuine integrity of our own hearts and lives. Then, our expe- rience and example will give energy to our endeavours for the reformation of others.
Again, some of you are probably hindered from the performance of this duty by a desire of pleasing, and a fear of offending men. But though the favour of those around us be a desirable good, both in itself and its ef- fects, and the contrary be an equal evil ; yet it is cer- tainly our duty and interest to please God, rather than men. To please men for their good to edification is
30 ' ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. iSznAt
true Christian benevolence ; but to please them to their destruction is base and savage cruelty.
Another hindrance to this duty is an excessive con- stitutional tenderness, which will not suffer us to give pain to a fellow creature, even on the most urgent oc- casions. Thus the tender feelings of some parents will not permit them to curb the extravagant humours and passions of their children, or to administer the most needful correction, or even reproof. The same principle withholds many neighbours and friends from bearing proper testimony against the follies and vices of each other. But a tenderness, which thus restrains persons from a necessary duty, instead of being an amiable and useful virtue, degenerates into a coward- ly and pernicious vice.
Another great hindrance to this duty is shame, or a dread of reproach and ridicule. But if the servants of Satan are not ashamed of dieir master, shall the disci- ples of Christ blush to stand up for theirs ? If the former are not ashamed to sv/ear, to riot, to trample up- on the Sabbath and worship of God ; shall the latter be ashamed to reprove such daring abominations ? If in- fidels and libertines proclaim their wicked and destruc- tive principles and practices with an unblushing, and even exulting countenance ; shall not serious Chris- tian believers be at least equally bold in testifying against these evils, and endeavouring to reform them ? Does it not become them to manifest a noble superi- ority to the jeers and mockings, which a faithful dis- charge of their duty may draw upon them from igno- rant or abandoned men ? In short, let us all remember, that there is no dishonour in being censured or ridi- culed, but in deserving to be so ; that it is a real glory to be reproached for our distinguished Christian cou- rage and zeal ; but that, "if we are ashamed of Christ
Ser. II.) ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. 31
and his words before an adulterous generation, he will !)e ashamed of us before his Father, and before his angels."
Another impediment to this duty is an indolent dis- position, or such a love of personal ease and quiet, as cannot relish or endure laborious and persevering ef- forts for the reformation and salvation of others ; es- pecially as those efforts often provoke the most un- tliankful and malevolent returns. But to excuse oiu-- selves from this generous, though self-denying office, on this ground, betrays a vile preference of present self- indulgence to the will and honour of God, and the high- est good of our fellow-creatures.
Near akin to this is that exclusive devotion to our own interest, which shuts out all feeling or care for the welfaie of others, and prompts us to ask with wicked and murderous Cain, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Let my neighbour take care of himself. But it is suf- ficient to reply, We are all charged by God, by nature, and Christianity, with the care of our brother as well, as of ourselves ; and consequently we cannot neglect his welfare, without endangering and finally destroying our own.
Pride is also a frequent source of this neglect. I mean that pride, which disdains the humble office of familiarly instructing, exhorting, and reproving the poor, ignorant, and baser classes of mankind. But such haughty, pretended Christians forget how low their Master stooped for them ; how he descended from the bosom and throne of God to mingle and converse with the dregs of mankind, with a view to reform and save them.
Ignorance is another cause of this neglect. Some are ignorant, that the business of mutual reproof is a common Christian duty, or at least is their duty ; es-
32 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. U.
pecially as they are conscious of such weakness of judgment and knowledge, or such want of eloquence, as in their view unfits them for this office. But every man, however weak and unlearned, has some influence over others, especially over his equals and inferiors. He may, at least, admonish and rebuke them by the eloquence of his looks and example, which in many cases would have a salutary and lasting effect.
" This duty is likewise often obstructed by a spirit of discouragement and despondency, which tempts even good people to give over admonishing stupid and ob- stinate sinners, and no longer to cast pearls before swine. But we ought to remember, that so long, as there is life, there is some ground of hope ; that so long, as sinners will hear, we have some encourage- ment to speak ; that no person, however hardened, is beyond the reach of divine power and mercy ; and that since God works by suitable means, it is our duty to continue our exhortations and reproofs, hoping and praying for a divine blessing to attend them. " In die morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand ;" for thou knowest not but this good seed may at length take root, and spring up into a plentiful harvest. Finally, some neglect this duty from a mistaken idea, that the office of reproving vice belongs exclusively to the Christian priesthood. But though public instruc- tion and admonition belong to Christian preacb.ers only, yet it equally belongs to Christians at large to co-operate with their ministers by mutual private exhortations. These would greatly encourage and strengthen }'Our public instructers, and would give double advantage and effect both to their public and private addresses ; but the neglect of this duty among Christian profes- sors depresses and disables ministers from prosecuting their work with desirable spirit and success. In shorts
Ser, II.] ON BROTHERLY REPROOF, 33
the negligence, or the faithtul zeal of a Christian peo- ple and their ministers is mutually contagious ; like the electric fluid it is quickly comniunicaied from one to the other.
Since, then, we find ourselves stripped of every plea for omitting the duty bet'ore us, what remains but that we awake to the immediate and resolute practice of it ? Have we not already, by our sinful neglect, been par- takers of the guilt, and accessary to the ruin of others ; perhaps of our own beloved children or dearest friends ? And are there not multitudes around us of open trans- gressors and scoffing infidels as well, as of cold or sleep- ing Christians, whose situation demands the friendly aid of our admonitions and prayers ? Can we have the faith of Christians, if we do not view such persons in a hazardous and very pitiable condition ?
Can we possibly account for the careless spirit of many nominal believers at this day, both with respect to their own moral conduct and state, and those of oth-» crs ; can we account for it on any other principle, than that of secret infidelity with regard to the great truths of revelation ? If men fully believe any very interesting proposition or fact, it will influence their feelings and practice. This is universally seen in their temporal affairs. Accordingly we are told, that Noah was moved by his faith to prepare an ark for himself and his house^ and to warn a sinful and sleeping world of their danger. Why did not the world hearken to, and comply with his admonitions ? Because they did not, like him, be- lieve the divine threatening. Agreeably, multitudes of professed Christians at this degenerate period have only a traditional, uncertain, or at best probable opinion, that the Bible may be true ; but have no steady and thorough conviction of the certainty and import of its interesting doctrines and precepts, tlii'ea,tenings and promises. If
34 ON BROTHERLY REPROOF. [Ser. II.
they had, they would be all sensibility and exertion in securing and promoting their own best interests, and those of their families, neighbours, and fellow creatures at large. We have all, therefore, very great reason to adopt that prayer of the disciples, *' Lord, increase our faith."
While we labour and pray for a more strong and operative faith, let us with equal assiduity cherish a mu- tual Christian benevolence and sympathy. I mean that benevolence, which deeply feels, and strives to remove the moral as well, as physical evils, m hich have invaded our country or vicinity ; that benevolence, which princi- pally laments, and seeks to extirpate the fashionable in- fidelity, irreligion, and vices of the age, and which ex- erts its main efforts to produce a general revival of Christian piety and morals. While we glory in the lib- eral and benevolent character of the present times, let not this hberal and beneficent spirit be confined merely to men's bodies and political interests ; as though we were a set of beings, who were to expire with the beasts, and had never so much as heard of a future state. Let not our benevolent candour be perverted into a fond or silent indulgence of our children and neighbours in every pernicious error, folly, or vice. But let us re- member that our text, and indeed the whole spirit of our religion, stigmatize this species of candour, as a real and cruel hatred of our fellow creatures.
Let us then shew our philanthropy by more Christian and more substantial tokens ; by doing all in our power to bring those around us, especially our own families and intimate friends to believe, love, and obey the gospel. In conformity to the express and fi'equent injunctions of Christianity, let us consider one another, to provoke un- to love and good works. Let us " exhort one another daily, while it is called to-day, lest any be hai'dened by the deceitfulness of sin.'*
Sermon iil On secret Faults and presumptuous Sins,
Psalm xix. 12, 13.
Who can imderstand his errors ? Cleanse thou me from secret faults.
Keep back thy ser'va?it also from presumptuous sins. Let them not haiie dominion over me. Then shall I be up- right ; and I shall be innocent from the great transgres- sioUy
HESE words present to view a moral scale, or a gradual ascent of iniquity. The lowest degree of this series is error, or secret infirmity ; the next, presumptU' oussin ; tlie highest is called the great transgression.
I propose to define these several grades of sin, espec- ially the two first ; and subjoin such remarks, as may seem pertinent and useful.
The ground of the distinction here made between er- ror and presumption lies in the constitution of our na- tures. There are in the human mind three prime sources of action, the understanding, the will, and the af- fections. If there were no blindness in the first, na per- versity in the second, and no disturbance in the last, our actions would all be perfect. But alas ! in our present state, these several faculties are strongly infected with the appropriate disorders just named. Hence most of our wrong exercises have a tincture of each. But in philosophical strictness, every sin must be denominated from its principal source. If it chiefly result from a mis-
L
36 ON SECRET FAULTS [Ser. Itt
judging or uninformed understanding, it is a sin of ig- norance ; if it proceed from a slidden perturbation of the passions, it is a sin of infirmity ; if it flow from a cool and obstinate determination of the will, it is a prc- siun'ptuous offence. I will illustrate each of these by dn eminent scripture example.
Paul's conduct in persecuting the church of Christ proceeded directly from a misguided judgment ; from a full, though erroneous, persuasion, that Christianity was a pernicious heresy, fabricated to overturn the divine re- ligion of Moses. His passions were not violently iiv flamed against the Christians by any personal provoca- tions. His will did not boldly defy his understanding and conscience. We must therefore seek for the im- mediate cause of his wrong action in mental errof ; and accordingly must style his persecution a sin of igno- rance; Under this name he himself condemns it : '' I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantl}-. "
Our next illustration shall be taken from the fall of Peter. His denial of his Master did not arise from, want of information. He had intimately known and amply confessed the diviiie character of Jesus. He knew and felt himself sacredly bound to own and adhere to him in every extremity. He had solemnly pledged himself to do it. The plea of ignorance therefore vanishes. Yet, on the other hand, his fault was not strictly a presumpta- ous sin ; because it was not done with deliberate design or previous malice. He came to the fatal spot with a contrary intentiori. His heart loved and honoured his Master, even while his tongue abjured him ; and no sooner did the signal, foretold by his Lord, arrest his ear, than it roused the deepest penitential sorrow in his bosom. These circumstances remove from his oflfence every suspicion of obstinate resolution, and oblige us to resQit to his passions for the true spring of his miscon-
Ser. III.] AND PRESUMPTUOUS SINS. 57
duct. A sudden emotion of fear prevented the exercise both of his reason and virtue, and carried his whole soul to one point, namely, how to a^^oid the present danger. His denial was therefore a sin of infirmity.
But the conduct of David in the affair of Uriah widely differed from both the cases just cited. It \vas th^ v\il- fui murder of an innocent, brave, and faithful subject ; a murder leisurely predetermined, artfully contrived and covered, ajid ^eiy basely accomplished ; and all this by a person of superior knowledge and sensibility with re- spect to right and wrong, to duty and sin. This action therefore has no plea either of mistake or surprise. It was a high instance of presumptuous "wickedness.
These examples compared suggest the following ob- servations.
I. That no ignorance or mistake respecting plain and essential things can wholly excuse an erroneous con- duct ; because such ignorance is in some degree volun- tary, or the fruit of human depravity. It arises, not from a total want of the requisite means of information, but from faulty inattention and prejudice ; or from a heart, wiiich loves the darkness of error and vice rather, than the pure light of truth and virtue. A misguided judgment, produced b}'- such causes, imiplies crime ; and therefore cannot justify the actions, to which it leads. Agreeably, Paul, after his conversion, condemns that very conduct, •which before he verily thought to be right. This self-condemnation was founded in a con- viction, that his fornner mistake arose, in a great measure, from unreasonable prejudice, from a voluntary neglect of those means of knowledge, which had been placed before him. The same remark still more emphatically applies to the Jewish rulers and people, who condemned and crucified our Saviour. At the time of committing these enormities, they appear to have viewed him as
58 ON SECRET FAULTS [Ser. III.
an impostor and blasphemer, who ought to be executed. Yet no one doubts their heinous guilt in this proceeds ing. The reason is obvious. Their malignant deprav- ity blinded their understandings. It made them resist the abundant evidence, which Jesus had given, of his di- vine mission.
These remarks place in their true light the first class of sins above described. They show, that ignorance and mistake, unless they be invincible, or absolutely un^ avoidable, will never exculpate a forbidden action. They consequently enforce the duty of confessing, with the Psalmist, those numerous errors^ or secret faults, in- to \^ hich even good men are often betrayed by inconsid- eration, or remaining corruption. At the same time,
II. Though ignorance may not justify, yet it fre- quently extenuates transgression. A person, who com- mits an oifence, without knowing or considering at the time its evil nature and tendency, is certainly in that in- stance a less daring and aggravated offender, than he, who perform.s the same act in defiance of present knowl- edge and conviction. Agreeably, our Saviour tells us, that he, who disobeys his Lord's will, while he does not fully know it, shall be beaten with few stripes ; while he, who knows it, and yet does not prepare himself to do it. shall be beaten with many stripes. He also made this plea for his very murderers ; " Father, forgive them; for they know not what the}^ do." This plea however will be of little service to those, Mho resolutely wrap up their minds in ignorance or delusion, on purpose, that they may sin with greater freedoni and boldness. Such wilful and studied delusion is itself a presumptuous sin. This leads us to observe,
III. That many things, \\ hich our self- flattering minds are ready to pronounce infirmities, or undesigned er. rors, belong to a higher species of guilt. If a man, un-
Ser. III.] AND PRESUMPTUOUS SINS. 39
der sudden and violent provocation, conceives an an- gry thought or revengeful desire ; if he utters his hasty- feelings in unguarded expressions ; such thought, de- sire, and language, if soon checked, may be denominat- ed infirmities. But, if a man frequently indulges such passionate emotions and words, or some other folly, which easily besets him, under an idea, that they are small inadvertences ; if he often rushes into those com- panies, or situations, which tend to excite and confirm these irregularities ; if, after committing them, he studi- ously lessens, excuses, or hides their deformity by ascribing them to some laudable motive, to some inno- cent weakness, or to the sudden influence of passion, of company, or of example; in each of these cases he makes himself a presumptuous offender ; he cherishes a fault, which he ought to combat ; he shows a perverse fondness for transgression ; he commits and persists in it from a stupid insensibility to the evil of sin. A small error, wilfully retained and fostered, implies and pro- duces great guilt and depravity.
This suggests another frequent mistake on this sub- ject. Some place in the list of infirmities all those sins, which do not break out into overt acts, and even into gross and daring offences. But both Scripture and reason assure us, that the heart is the prime subject and fountain of moral gobd and evil ; and, of course, that the secret affections and exercises of this constitute the main part both of human virtue and vice. It follows, that a person may be a vile and presumptuous sinner, while his visible actions are decent and regular. Agree- ably, we are told in the sacred writings, that a manjuay commit adultery, and even murder, in his heart. We are likewise told, that the carnal mind, or a heart, which is supremely set on cai-nal things, is enmity agn^inst God. In short, the Bible, and indeed the nature 01 the
40 ON SECRET FAULTS [Ser. IIL
thing declares, that evil thoughts and desires, \\'hen wil- fully cherished in the breast, are not only presumptu- ous sins, but the fruitful source of every other trans- gi-ession.
It is also a dangerous mistake to suppose, that every sin, committed by a true believer, or a person endued with a gracious principle, is a mere infirmity. This conclusion has been drawn by some from these wordis of St. John, " He, that is born of God, cannot commit sin." " That is," say these Expositors, " he cannot, like other men, sin in a cordial and deliberate manner ; consequently his worst deviations are inconsiderable frailties." We grant, that sin is not his chosen and leading employment. Yet there are seasons, when the remains of corrupt disposition bear down the opposite principle, and generate inward feelings and overt actions, directly repugnant to his general character. Is it safe to assert, that these corrupt exercises are less aggravated in a child of God, than in a servant of sin? On the con- trary, does not the former sin against far greater privi- leges and motives, than the latter ? Is not the unworthy conduct of a son and a favourite far more ungrafeful and monstrous, tlian the same deportment in a servant, or an avowed enemy ? Was not the guilt of David in the affair of Uriah unspeakably enhanced by his religious profession and attainments ? Let no one therefore imagine, that the guilt or the danger of his transgressions is small, because he is confident of a Christian standing, Rather let this \cry persuasion increase his vigilance. ]Let it incite him to pray more earnestly, with pious Da- vid in the text, " Keep back thy servant from pre- sumptuous sins."
IV. This leads \is to specify some of the most re- markable kinds of presumptuous sin. I do this with a view to place this a^vf^l subject in the most convincing
Ser. Ill] AN][> PRESUMPTUOUS SINS. 41
and searching light ; and to point our best efforts against such a high species of guilt, in whatever shape it may of- fer itself.
One form, in which this sin appears, is a violent op- position to the clear light and warnings of conscience* When the sinner's depraved inclinations, instead of be- ing subdued, are roused to gieater energy by the kind interference of this heavenly monitor ; when he bursts through the strong barriers, which a full conviction of truth and duty, of guilt and danger, oppose to his pro- gress ; this is to transgress in a manner the most daring, tingrateful, and desperate. Those, who thus act, are said to resist and to quench the Spirit of God. Those likewise sin presumptuously, who boldly cast off the re-« Hgious principles, impressions, and resolutions of their early years ; who not only renounce, but openly deride those doctrines and duties, which they once regarded with reverence and delight. It requires no ordinary degree of presumption and outrage to stifle sentiments and feelings so natural and rational, so early and deeply impressed, and which have been found so comforting and salutoiy. Accordingly those, who make and suc- ceed in this effort, justly acquire the reputation of gigantic sinners. Those also merit the same character, who relapse into those very sins, for which they have been severely chastized, and which they once bitterly lamented and solemnly abjured. It deserves remark^ that neither David nor Peter ever renewed those foul crimes, of which they once repented. On the contrary, they e\ er regaided them, with peculiar detestation and horror. The remembrance of them was a constant incentive to a humble, watchful, and exemplary life. But those, who return to the vices, which they once re- nounced with deep sorrow and shame, sin against nature as well, as grace; for nature teaches even the inferior
42 ON SECRET FAULTS [Ser. Ill,
animals to shun those things, which they have found to be hurtful.
Near akin to this is the presumption of those, who harden themselves against the mercies or the judgments of the Most High; who abuse their health and compe- tence, their wealth or power, as engines of luxury, oppression, or impiety ; who continue unreformed, af- ter, and perhaps under the scourges of personal, domes- tic, or national calamity ; who resolutely oppose the united admonitions of God's word and providence.
Finally, to the class of wilful and obstinate offenders we must refer ail those, v/ho refuse to believe and obey tlie gospel, while favoured with clear and abundant evi- dence of its truth and importance.
This particular view of presumtuous sins suggests to us,
V. The reasons, why the Psalmist was so earnest to be restrained from committing them. The reasons may be summed up in one idea, namely, the peculiar ma- lignity of such transgressions. They flow from cool and stubborn depravity. They blaspheme the essential attributes of God, by practically sa}'ing, either that he has not knowledge, power, and justice sufficient to pun- ish them, or that his mercy is so easy and so undis- tinguishing a quality, as to pardon the most unrelenting and daring wickedness, or, at least, to accept the cheap- est and latest repentance. They are likewise very pernicious in their effects. They destroy the light, the energy, and the delicate feelings of conscience. They bring a natural and judicial hardness upon the heart. They consign the soul to the absolute empire of sin. 'i'hey bring it to the precipice of total apostasy and ruin. Hence David prays to be kept back from v.'ilful sin, that so he might be innocent from tlie gi'eat trans-
Ser. hi,] and presumptuous sins, 43
gi'ession, that is, from final impenitence, which cannot be forgiven.
In the review of this subject, what reason have the best of us to exclaim, in the language of David, Who can understand his errors ? Who can conceive, how of- ten and how greatly he has departed from the perfect standai'd of duty ? Who can reckon up the improper thoughts and feelings of his mind, the unguarded sallies of his tongue, and the faulty actions of his life ? Who can enumerate his neglected opportunities of doing or receiving good, of resisting or preventing evil ? Who can form an accurate and complete list of the vicious mistakes of his judgment, of the irregular motions of his passions, of the wrong incUnations and purposes of his will ? Who can fully state every circumstance of aggravation, which has marked each guilty defect, omission, or act of his life ? Surely, my brethren, if we have any knowledge of ourselves, of the divine law, of the infinite purity and majesty of God, we shall readily adopt that humble address, " If thou. Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?"
Hence let us all unite in the prayer of the text, that God would cleanse us from secret faults, and keep us back from deliberate transgression. Humble and fer- vent prayer against sin is a natural preservative from it ; as it tends to give us a. solemn and habitual sense of the presence and holiness of God, of the evil and danger of offending him, and of the vile hypocrisy of practically contradicting our own petitions. As prayer is the ap- pointed medium of obtaining succour from Heaven ; so it solemnly binds and urges us to employ our own dili- gence in mortifying sin, in opposing temptation, and in practising universal holiness. Thus sincere petitions call forth corresponding exertion. Let us then unite
M
44 ON SECRET FAULTS. [Ser. III.
holy activity with humble dependence on God. If wc would be kept back from sins of presumption and from the great transgression, let us maintain a constant rev- erence for the authority of conscience ; let us daily and impartially inquire into the state of our hearts ;, let us dread and promptly subdue the first risings of sinful thought and affection ; let us plant our strongest guard, against favourite corruptions ; let us avoid the most dis- tant approaches, occasions, and appearances of evil'; let us stop our ears, like the deaf adder, against the en- chanting voice of temptation ; let us shun, as we would a mortal pestilence,, the society and conversation of un- godly seducers ; let us say w ith a holy fii'mness, " De- part from me, ye evil doers ; for I will keep the com- mandments of my God. Above all, let us see, that the fountain of moral exercises within us be purified by heavenly grace ; that our souls be clad with the spiritual armour of truth and righteousness, of gospel faith and hope. Then shall we be able to stand in the evil day ; yea, we shall prove more than conquerors through him, that loved us.
@)ermon iv.
On the Love of God
Mark xii. 3Q. 'Thou shcdt loiic the Lord thy God with all thy hearty and with all thy souly andivith all thy mind, andimth all thy strength : this is the first and great commandment.
A'.
.S all religion is founded in die existence, perfec- tions, anc^. providence of one Supreme Being, the Crea- tor and Governor of the world ; so this infinite Being must be tlie prime and terminating object of religion ; and a supr-eme regard to him must be the first duty, the crovviiing virtue of rational creatures. Agreeably, xvhen our Sa\iQar was asked by a Jewish la^vyer, which is the first commandment of all., he replies in the words just read ; " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God Avith all thy, heart ;.... this is the first and great com- mandment."
In discoursing on this very noble and interesting sub- ject, we will endeavour to illustrate the nature, the grounds, the measure, and the superior importance of love to God.
With regard to the nature of the affection here en- joined, it must l^e understood to comprehend all those inward regards to the Deity, which his perfections, re- lations, and benefits demand. In other words, it in- cludes the whole of piety, viewed in its internal princi- ples, or as seated in the mind ; just as love to our neighbour, required in the second great command,
46 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV.
comprises the whole principle of social virtue. Ac- cordingly, the first ingredient in love to God is a just view and esteem of his character ; for so far as we en- tertain false and dishonourable ideas of the Supreme Being, our regards to him will be misplaced, degrad- ing, and idolatrous ; they will really centre on a wrong object, an idol of our own imagination. It is therefore highly important, that our views of the divine character be founded in truth, that they be derived from the sa- cred oracles, that they present the Deity th our minds in a glorious and amiable light, in the full-orbed lustre of his natural and moral perfections. Then, and only then, shall we perceive a beauty, a transcendent dignity in his nature, which will command our rational, our su- perlative esteem. We may indeed possess a kind of $elfish, enthusiastic love to God without this scriptural, impressive sight of his inherent excellence ; that js, we may love him with the mercenary affection of publicans and sinners, from a flattering confidence of his special love and benefits to us, either enjoyed or expected ; or a pleasing idea, that he is just such a Being, as our- selves. But this is only a reflection and refinement of self-love, and neither involves nor produces any genu- ine esteem of the divine character ; for proper esteem of a worthy object never grows out of mere self-love, but is ever founded on the apprehended worth of the party esteemed. Which leads us to observe, that true love to God vmites the heart to his glory, and conse- crates all its faculties to his service. The mind, in a just view and esteem of his infinite excellence, sees it to be the noblest and happiest thing in the world to honour and please him ; to contribute to the display of his glo- rious perfections, and the advancement of his moral kingdom. Hence its active powers and pursuits are mainly and habitually directed to tliis object ; insomuch
ser.iv.] on the love 6r god. j^
that the pious lover of God eats and diinks, and does e^^ery thing to his gloiy. Hence too, he places his own highest delight and lelicitj- in contemplating, serving, and imitating his Maker, and enjoying the emanations and assurances of his favour. We necessarily delight in those characters, to whom our hearts arc united bj sincere esteem and affection ; their society, their friend- ship, their approving smile, their growing prosperity, afford us the highest enjoyment. By contributing to their pleasure or interest we essentially promote our own. This happil}^ illustrates the inseparable connex- ion between serving God and enjoying him, in the un- ion of which the compilers of a celebrated religious com- pend have wjsely placed the chief end of man ; for both these ideas meet in one indivisible point.
By loving and glorifying God we immediately enjoy him, or find our own happiness in these noblest exer- cises of our minds upon their highest object, especially as connected with correspondent returns of love from this object. On the other hand, our felicity in the reg- ular and full enjoyment of our Maker eminently glorifies him, both as it displays the riches and triumph of his goodness in harmony with his other perfections, and furnishes us with the greatest incentives and advantages to serve and praise him forever.
This, by the way, forcibly represents the absurdity and self-contradiction of that sentiment, which states true love to God to imply a willingness to give up the enjoyment of hirn for the sake of his greater glory ! A sentiment as repugnant to the nature of the thing, as it is to the whole tenor of Scripture, and to the essential constitution of man, considered either as merely ration- al, or sanctified.
Further, it is easy to see that gratitude to God for his favours is an important branch of the pious temper ; for
48 OK THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV.
if the essential perfections of Deity are a proper object of esteem and complacency, then the exercise of these per- fections in acts of beneficence to us demands the corres- pondent feehngs and acknowledgments of gratitude ; p-ratitude as constant and progressive, as is the current of divine benefits.
True love of God likewise involves a reverential and filial fear of his power, justice, and paternal displeasure ; a steady and cheerful trust in bis governing wisdom, be- nevolence, and faitlifulness :, a quiet resignation to hi$ disposing pleasure, even in the most trying scenes ; an habitual and divine joy in his perfect and universal ad- ministration ; a prevailing and effectual desire to com- port with or be conformed to all his perfections ; to be obedient to his whole preceptive ^viil, and to hold com- munion with him in lyiis various ordinances and works.
The way is now prepared to consider^
Secondly, The grounds or momes of this divine afr fection. These are, first, the essential perfections of God ; and secondly, his relations and communica- tions to us.
1. We are to love him primarily for his own loveli- ness ; or as the text intimates, A\-e are first to love him, as the Lord, the infinitely glorious Jeliovah ; and then, as our God, related to us by many endeaiung ties.
In proof of this, I would observe, if the character of God is really amiable in itself, it is fit that we should regard it accordingly ; for it is certainly right to love what is right. We all find ourselves bound, and event constrained to love a w^orthy human character, at the first sight or hearing of it, previously to any thought of self-interest, gr to tlic idea of deriving any benefit from it ; yea, in opposition to private and selfish affection. Thus the excellent character of a Washington has commanded the esteem of distant nations, jea, of selfish
Ser. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 49
Britons, who, though obHged to view him in the late revohition as their most formidable enemy, yet felt themselves equally obliged to admire and extol those great and good qualities, which ennobled the man. How much greater then must be the obligation, which binds us all to revere and love the infinitely perfect Original, on account of his transcendent greatness and goodness ! It is GoD*s infinite perfection, which rnakes him to be a God, which constitutes all his glory and beauty. If therefore we overlook this, we overlook God himself; we set aside every thing in him, which is a ground of esteem or affection ; consequently all our love, if we have any, must centre and terminate in self. In a word, it is self-evident, that no man can truly esteem and love the excellent character of Deitv, unless he loves it on account of its excellence. This love to God for his own most amiable perfections, and espe- cially for his holiness, which may be called the sum and crown of his perfections, is the most noble, prominent, and discriminating feature of true religion. But still it is not the only feature ; the religion of fallen, imperfect man is not wholly made up of disinterested love either to God, or the created system. For,
In the 2d place, we are to love him not only as the Lord, but as our God. This points out the seconda- ry ground to this duty. We are to love him as our Creator, who gave us our existence and faculties, and to whom therefore they ought to be affectionately devoted ; as our Preserver and Benefactor, who, by upholding, actuating and comforting us every moment, acquires a new Utle, with each successive instant, to our best af- fections and service ; as our Lawgiver and Judge, who has an undoubted right to give law to his own creatures, who has accordingly summed up his requirements in the great law of love, and who can and will reward or
50 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. CSer. IV".
punish their obedience or transgression ; finally, as our merciful Father and Redeemer, who, by giving his own Son to die for our redemption, has bought us to him- self at an mfinite price, and thereby laid us under the most forcible and endearhig obligations to glorify God •with our bodies and spirits, \vhich are his. The love and benefits of Go d in our creation and preservation, especially in our redemption and everlasting salvation, are constantly held up in Scripture as arguments to en- gage our love and obedience ; and all the saints on sa- cred record are represented, as feeling the animating, constraining influence of these motives. A thankful sense therefore of the temporal, spiritual, and everlast- ing mercies of God, and a subordinate regard to our own interest, as affected thereby, do not betray a mean and unchristian selfishness, as some seem to represent, but form an essential ti'ait in the truly pious character. If Moses, the first character for virtue in the Old Tes- tament, WAS in some degree incited to duty by the fu- ture recompense of reward ; if St. Paul and other em- inent Christians were constrained by the mercies of God, and the love of Christ in redemption, to live to his glor}'^ ; if the Redeemer himself was animated by the joy set before him ; then it cannot be base oi- criminal for his disciples to be influenced by the same.
We proceed now to ascertain the ?7ieasure of this love to God. We are to love him " witli all the heart, and with all the soul , and m ith all the mind, and v^'ith all the strength." This noble cluster of emphatical and nearly R}'nonymoMs expressions is designed more forcibly to express this one great idea, that God ought to be loved to the highest possible degree of our natiu'al capacities. We must love him *' with all our hearts," that h, witli a cordial, unfeigned, governing affection, in opposition to a double or divided heart, a part of which seems
Ser. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 5X
devoted to God and religion, while its supreme love and service are given to some other object. We must love him *' with all our souls;" that is, with all the faculties of our souls. The understanding must be occupied in the contemplation of him ; the judgment must hold him in the highest esteem ; the will must em- brace him, as its chief good ; and the affections meet and rest in him, as their central and ultimate object. We must love him " with all our minds ;" that is, a well informed mind must be the guide, and a willing mind the spring and soul of our piety. Finally, we are to love him with " all our strength;" that is, our affec- tion must be vigorous and operative ; it must seize and strain every nerve, and exert the whole strength of our souls and bodies in the service of the glorious and be- loved object. In a word, these strong phrases do not imply, that divine love ought to swallow up our faculties in such a manner, as to extinguish all our other passions, or shut out every innocent earthly object and entertain- ment, or keep the mind in a constant passionate rapture of relieious zeal and iov ; thev onlv intend, that love to God must steadily keep the throne in our breasts, and duly regulate and sanctify all our inferior affections and pursuits.
Let us now, in the last place, attend to the superior importance of this divine principle. Love to our Maker is here stvled the first and 9:reat commandment. It is so in regard of its object. As God is infinitely more excellent, than all other beings, so love to him must proportionably transcend all other obligations and vir- tues. That affection, which embraces an infinite object, the sum of all being and beauty, seems to possess a sort of infinit}'-, an amplitude, an elevation, a glory derived from and congenial to that of its object. Further, as
N ■
52 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV.
the infinite perfections of God, and his consequent authority over his rational creatures, are the foundation of all their religious and moral obligations ; so a due respect to these divine perfections and this authority must be the ground work of all religion, the prime moving spring of universal obedience. Without this re- gard to God, there is no holy, acceptable obedience in any instance whatever ; but where this exists, it ever leads to genuine religious obedience in every particular ; it foi-ms the only sure, efficacious, and inflexible princi- ple of virtue.
Again. The love of God appears greater than the love of our neighbour in another respect, namely, be- cause the latter is to be loved chiefly for the sake of the former, or as the offspring and image of God, and the object of his paternal affection. We are also to love our neie:hbour in subordination to God, so as to be ready to give up the most valuable and favourite crea- ture, when it comes in competition \\'ith the will, the fa- vour, the interest of the Creator. This is doubtless the import of that remarkable text, Luke xiv. 26, and was exemplified in Abraham, when he offered up the dear- est earthly object.
Blessed be God, we, who are parents, are not called, as was Abraham, to offer up an only son with our own hands ; yet we ai'e sometimes called to resign our belov- ed children, who ai"e dear as a right hand, to the stroke of death. In such cases true love to God will unite our \\ills to his, will swallow up our natural and earthly affections in a supreme regard to his pleasure, his ap- probation and honour, and this will make us ultimately feel and act, as if we hated and despised the most be- loved creature, compared with the infinite Creator.
Finally. The love of God is the first and great com- mand, as it is the principal source or ingredient of our
Ser. IV.] ON THE LOVE OF GOD. 53
happiness. This divine affection directly tends to as- similate us to its glorious and blessed object ; to en- large, purify, and elevate our minds ; to improve us in the various branches of moral goodness, which con- stitutes the health, the perfection, the felicity of our rational nature. Divine love unites us to God its object, and gives us the happifying enjoyment of him. As God is the sovereign good, the adequate portion of our souls, so love inti'oduces us to die possession of this goodi it introduces us to an object, sufficient to employ, to entertain, to absorb all our faculties of contemplation and enjoyment. It unites us to a Friend, who is in- finitely Vvise, faithful, and good ; who has no unkindness to be suspected, no sorrows to be condoled, no change to be feared ; who is forever glorious and happy, and forever our own, and is always at hand to guard, assist, and comfort us. How great the happiness arising from an intercourse of love with such an object even in this state of distance and imperfection ! But how unspeakably greater the bliss of seeing him face to face in the light of future glory ; of beholding, loving, and enjoying him in an immediate, perfect, progressi\'e manner forever and ever! Well might the Psalmist in the view of this blessedness exclaim, *' As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness ; I shall be satisfied when I awake, widi thy likeness ; for in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand ^here are pleasures for evermore."
In the review of this subject, it is natural to reflect on the goodness as Mell, as propriety and justice of that di- vine constitution, which makes love to God the first du- ty of man. The divine Legislator herein has equally consulted and inseparably united his own rights and dignity, and our interest and happiness ; for this pious regard to the Deity is the main qualification for and ingredient in rational felicity.
54 ON THE LOVE OF GOD. [Ser. IV.
We likewise inier the destructive tendency of impiety and atheism, both to societies and individuals, by un- dermining the foundation of order, virtue, and rational felicity. We infer too the dangerous error of those moralists, who place the whole duty of man in the per- sonal and social virtues, M'hile they overlook, and per- haps ridicule, as mere superstition or enthusiasm, the exercises of love and devotion towards God. It ap- pears from our doctrine, that piety is the basis and soul of moral excellence and human happiness ; that it is perfectly fit in itself, is necessary to the uniform, per- severing, and acceptable discharge of social and private obligations, and is essentially pre-requisite to the final approbation and enjoyment of God. Let our accom- pli^ihments in other respects be ever so amiable or splendid, if we are eminently just and kind, generous and honourable towards our felloAv men, and our character to human view is quite unexceptionable and noble ; yet if we treat the original beauty and good, the supreme Parent and Benefactor, with cold indifference or pointed opposition, we betray a very unnatural and monstrous state of mind, which is utterly inconsistent with real honesty and goodness. Let those, \vho have hitherto lived as w ithout God in the world, labour to feel their guilt and danger, and earuestly seek the recovery of that divine temper, M'hich is the root of human perfection and felicity. Let those, who possess it, be daily employed in feeling the sacred fiame ; let the daily breath of their hearts and of their lives echo that becoming and elevated language of piety, "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon eaith, that I desire, besides thee. My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strength of my heait and my portion forever."
Sermon v. On the Love of our Neighbour.
Mark xii. 31.
And the second h like unto it^ namely^ this. Thou shah Icde thy neighbour as tliystlf.
X HIS and the preceding verse present to our view a beautiful compend of true religion. They contain the answer, w hich our Saviour gave to this important ques- tion, " Which is the gieat commandment in the law?" His first reply is, "' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart ;....tlii3 is the first and great command- ment." This verse holds up the superior obligation and importance of piety, or an inward governing regard to the Deity. Accordingly, the prime duty and excel- lence of love to God were the theme of our late medita- tions in this place. The words, fixed at the head of this discourse, call our attention to the second great duty of man, which is of similar importance as well, as insepa- rably connected with the first. " And the second is like unto it, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."
In illustrating the subject before us, we will consider the object, the nature, the standard, and the reasons of the duty enjoined.
First. The object of this duty is our neighbour. But who is designated or included in this appellation ? If a Jew in our Saviour's day had been asked this question, he would have replied, those of my own kindred and
56 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V.
nation, of my own religious sect or denomination ; these, and these only, are my neighbours, and the proper ob- jects of my charitable affection. And if some bigoted professors of Christianity were interrogated in the same manner, I fear their hearts would echo the same reply, though perhaps they would blush to avow it with their lips. But if we apply to our divine Lord for a decision of this question, we shall find him determine it on a plan infinitely more noble and enlarged. When a Jewish lawyer asked him, "And who is my neighbour ?" he relates to him the story of a certain Jew, who, falling in- to the hands of robbers, was stripped, wounded, and left w-eltering in his gore. He was found in the road by two Jew ish travellers ; a contracted, imfeeling priest, and a Levite of the same mean, and barbarous temper ; who, instead of commiserating and relieving the wretch- ed object, though one of their own country and religion, only gave him a cold, distant look, and passed by on the other side. At length a Samaritan, orie of another na- tion, and of a quite different religion, with whom the Jews disdained any kind of intercourse, finds the unhap- py stranger, and his heart is instantly struck at the pitia- ble sight ; his compassionate, beneficent love bursts forth through every barrier of national prej adice or party dis- tinction ; he embraces a professed enemy in the arms of fervent benevolence, and treats him with all the ten- der and generous kindness of a brother. " Which, now, (says our Saviour) which of these three was neigh- bour to him', that fell among thieves ?" The lawyer readily answers, "He that shewed mercy on him." Then said Jesus, " Go thou, and do likewise. Look upon thyself a neighbour to every man, and every man a neighbour to thee. Let the sti-cam of thy extended and active good will flow out to all, whom thou art capar ble of serving, whether they be strangers or ac*
Ser.v.] the love of our neighbour. 57
qiiaintance, friends or foes, just or unjust." Thus the gospel holds up all mankind, as the object of our neighbourly and fraternal regards.
Secondly. We are now to inquire into the nature of the a^ection here required to this object. And it is obvious to remark, that there are many things, which \A'ear some appearance of love to mankind, which yet fall essentially short of the spirit of the duty before us. There is an instinctive and painful sympathy awakened by the sight of a fellow creature in distress, which en- gages our immediate efforts for his relief. There is a strong natural affection towards our kindred, especially tow^ai'ds our tender offspring. There is a characteristic sweetness and goodness of temper, which forms an early and constitutional feature in human characters. There is also an artificial politeness and generosity, the pro- duct of civilization and refinement, or at best of merely^ rational and philosophical considerations. There is like- wise a warm affection to others, which grows out of a likeness or union of sentiment and disposition, of party or country, or which is nourished by the enjoyment or the hope of their partial friendship and beneficence to us ; not to add, that there is sometimes an affected dis- play of kindness and munificence to individuals, or of noble patriotic zeal for the public, which is prompted by merely vain or selfish motives, and sometimes by views very base and iniquitous. It is evident, at first sight, that neither of these apparent instances of benevolence, nor all of them combined, fulfil the extensive precept in the text. If you ask what further is included, we re- ply, genuine, virtuous love to our neighbour is ever founded upon and connected with piety, or a religious and prevailing regard to our Creator. If we love God with a supreme affection, w^e shall naturally love his rational offspring for his sake, on account of their near
58 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser.V.
relation to him, and the image or display, which they present, of his glorious perfections ; we shall love and do them good from a pious respect to the example, the w ill, and the glory of their divine Parent and ours, who is good to all, who commands us to manifest our love to him by acts of kindness to his creatures, and who is greatly pleased and honoured by every effort to promote their felicity. In a word, since benevolence is the very nature and beauty of God himself, and since love to him and daily intercourse Mith him directly conduce to assimilate us more and more to his character ; it follows, that a pious affection to the Deity will soften and ex- pand the heart in godlike benevolence ; will kill a selfish, proud, and malignant spirit, and form its possessor to a gentle and forgiving, a just and fair, a sincere and faith- ful, a beneficent and liberal character. Thus the love of God and of our neighbour are intimately united; the one is the sure and effectual basis, the other the rising and beautiful superstructure of universal good- ness. As he, who truly knows and regards his Maker, will imitate and please him by loving and seeking the good of mankind ; so he, who has no proper affection towards God, can have no genuine love to man, nor any certain and commanding principle of social virtue. Agreeably, an inspired apostle assures us, that every one, who truly loveth his brother, is born of God, and knoweth God ; but he, that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is love.
Further, as the lo^-e of our neighbour supposes a re- ligious principle, as its parent and support, so its prop- erties and fruits embrace the whole compass of social duty ; for all the commands of the second table are comprehended in this one saying, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." This is that charity, which is styled the bond of perfectness, because it is the life and
Ser. v.] the love of our neighbour. 59
perfection of every virtue, the uniting band or centre of the whole circle of Christian graces. As all God's moral perfections and acts may be summed up in love, so all the affections and exercises, which we owe to our fellow men, are included in charity. This compre-\ hends, or effectually produces a proper esteem of their persons and stations, a virtuous and friendly complacen- cy in their characters, whenever they appear to be holy, or morally excellent, a cordial gratitude for their ta-^ vours, and above all, a benevolent, active zeal for tlieir welfare. Love unites our hearts to the interest of its object, and engages us to desire, to pursue, and to re- joice in it as our own. Love is eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. It springs forward to relieve the chil- dren of want and distress ; to compose and tranquilize the sons of contention ; to enlighten, com.fort, or estab- lish the ignorant, the wavering, or the faint-hearted in re- ligion ; and, in a w^ord, to diffuse happiness all around, as lar as its ability can reach, through the family, through the vicinity, through the country, yea, through the whole brotherhood of man. If we would see this excellent virtue in its full dress, let us contemplate the noble picture of it dra^vn by the hand of inspiration in the 13th chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians. " Charity," or love to our neighbour, " suffereth long and is kind ; charity envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, does not l)ehave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in ini- quity, but in the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."
To throw still further light on this interesting sub- ject let us attend,
Thirdly, To the standard or measure of the affection required. We aie commanded to love our neighbour o
eO THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Szr.V.
as ourselves. But what is the import of this remarka- ble phrase ? We answer, it seems capable of a three- fold construction. It may intend an equality of degree. This is the sense of some learned expositors. But sup- pose we possess an equal affection to our neighbour as to ourselves, it vv'ill not follow, that we must or can pay the same degree of practical attention to his welfare, as to cur own \ for besides the one common aifection to him and ourselves,, we all passess a variety of private appetites and passions ; and to }>rovide for and gratify tliese, must necessarily occupy a peculiar and large portion of our time and pm-suits. Besides, we have a far more immediate, and constant, and lively view of our own interests as well, as far more frequent and ad^vantageous oppcatunities to promote them, than •we can ha^^e in reference to the interest of others ; and we are evidently entrusted by oiu- Creator Avith the care of ourselves in a special sense, ^vith the care of our own \\'elfare as aacII, as of our moral behaviour. Admitting therefore the possible existence and obligation of an equal inward benevolence to my neighbour as to my- self, yet I neither can nor ought to carry this principle fully into practice. Indeed tlie principle itself seems contrary to evident fact ; for all mankind, the most vir- tuous and enlarged as well, as the most contracted and vicious, have a natural, inseparable principle of self-love, ■\\hich inspires a peculiar feeling for their own safety and litappiness, as an important personal good; and to cherish and act upon this principle, v/ithin certain lim- its, is both proper and useful ; and far from being con- demned is plainly warranted by this very command, which presupposes the existence and lawfulness of this private affection, and makes it the rule of social. For in the next place, the phrase before us may import a similar kind of affection \\idi that, wliich we bear ta
SER.V.l THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 61
ourselves. As every man foves himself mth a sincere and fen'ent, a vigorous and constant aifection ; an auc- tion, which usually excites the most provident and in- <lustrious care to avoid misery and secure happiness, M^hich sweetens all his labours for that end, and which produces either great joy or grief in the attainment ew disappointment of his favourite object ; so v/e ought to feel and express the same kind of regard to our neigh- bour, and tlius to make his interest, his joys and sor- rows our own.
Finally, here, the expression, as thyself ^ imports that our afiection and attention to the good of others should bear a reasonable proportion to our love and care of ourselves ; that after making particular and competent provision for our own vi elfare, our affectionate contriv- ance and endeavour, our talents and property must be consecrated to the good of mankind. In short, our text obliges us to feel and act towards our neighbours, on all occasions, just as we should reasonably desire, that they should feel and conduct to'\\ards us, agreeably to that most impartial and excellent rule, " Whatever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so unto them,"
Do any inquire the reaso?2s of this strict and exten- sive injunction ; or ^vhy so high a pitch of benevolence is required of us ? The answer to this completes the plan of our discourse. And first, we are obliged to it, because it is fit and beautiful in itself. If my neigh- hour is equally worthy of esteem with myself; if he has equal capacity, need, and desire of liappiness ; and if his welfai-e be as valuable, as good in itself, and as pre- cious to him, as mine is to me ; then it is in its own na- ture right, that I should regard his person and interest as my own. Besides, all men are bretliren, having the same common parent and origin, nature and conditioji,
e2 THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. Vw
necessities and prospects, the same mutual dependence and social affections ; it is therefore congruous and beautiful for them to feel and act towards one anodier upon the plan of brotherly love, reciprocal kindness, and generosity. We may add, the example of God and his Son enforces this obligation upon us. The whole name or character of God is comprised in love ; in wise, pure, comprehensive, almighty benevo» lence. This is the grand spring of all the divine opera- tions in creation, providence and redemption. Now imitation of God Is the first duty and highest excellence of man. A grateful sense of the rich, disinterested goodness of God and the Saviour to our rebellious world peculiarly becomes those, who are so infinitely indebted to this goodness : and where this gratitude prevails, it will engage us to love and do good to one another, as God has loved us all, and hereby to further the designs and spread the triumphs of divine benevor lence as well, as to approve ourselves his gentle chil- dren and favourites. And since God has likewise en- joined this benevolent affection upon us by his own infi- nite authority, we cannot \^ ithhold it Avithout trampling under foot the rights both of God and of man, and proving ourselves to be as destitute of piety, as we ai-e of social virtue. Let me add, this lo^'c to one another is the foundation and soul both of public and individual happiness. By devoting each member of the commu- nity to the interest of all the rest, it secures and ad- vances the common good to the highest degree. This forms the faithful ruler, the obedient subject, the patri- otic citizen, the obliging neighbour, the united, vigo- rous, and happy society ! This not only gives to the several members of society the sublime pleasure, ^vhich arises from conscious goodness, from the reciprocal en- dearments and offices of love, but it puts each Individ-
Ser. V. THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. eS
ual in possession of the whole mass of good, enjoyed by all his fellow members, yea, in some sense, of all the good, which he sees difl'used through the universe, since his benevolence enables him to rejoice in it as his own. Every argument therefore of intrinsic fitness, equity, and beauty, of divine authority and human in- terest and happiness, concurs to recommend the duty before us.
In reflecting on the preceding subject, we are led to see in what sense Christian benevolence may be call- ed disinterested. It is not so in such a sense, as ex- cludes a regular and even peculiar love and care of our- selves, nor in such a sense, as would imply, that love to others is not as really our affection, or conducive to our o\\ n gratification and interest, as e\'en self-love can pos- sibly be ; for there is no temper or course of action, which produces such immediate, such rich and lasting enjoyment to the subject, as the habitual feeling, the conscious and successful exertion of Christian benevo- lence. The only sense therefore in which it can be called disinterested is, that it is not the offspring of mere natural self-love, but is derived from a source, which reg-ards an object, and pursues an end distinct from those of bare private affection, and is ever ready to sacrifice a lesser selfish interest to the superior good of its object. Yea, to offer up our whole personal happi- ness in time to the civil and religious interests of man- kind.
Further, we learn that piety and social virtue must be united in order to complete a good character ; that nei- ther of them can be stable, genuine, or consistent with- out the other. We also learn what is the most promi- nent feature, or the leading spirit and excellency of the Christian system, namely, love to God and man. With-
6^ THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V.
out this the most orthodox faith, the most confident hope in the divine mercy and the merits of the Saviour, and the most zealous and scrupulous attendance on Chris- tian institutions will prove but vanity and delusion.
Further, it is natural to ask, whst benevolent or hur mane motive can induce so many persons in this en- lightened age not only to reject Christianity themselves, but to labour to undermine its credit and influence among their fellow creatures ? Do they seriously wish to extirpate a religion, whose whole aim is to promote mutual love, usefulness, and happiness among men upon principles and motives, which alone can eifectu,- ally attain and permanently secure them ?
To conclude, let us survey our own characters in the light of this subject. Let us ask our consciences, "whether we possess that love to our neighbour, to ev- ery person within our reach, which is ready to treat him as another self, to seek and rejoice in his happi- ness, to feel and relieve his distresses, as if they were our own ? Have we that virtuous benevolence, which renders us uniformly amiable and useful actors in ev- ery station and relation in the famil}-, the church, and the state ? And is the mIioIc system of our social vir- tues built upon and supported by supreme love to God, and a cordial faith in his Son ? These are the grand questions, which must decide our fate. All oth- er accomplishments, short of love, prophecies, knowl- edge, tongues, yea, faith and hope shall v^anish away.
That there is a principle in good men, which answers to this description, or which seeks and rests in the good of others, as its ultimate end, is proclaimed by the united voice of experience, of reason, and Scripture. But though this disinterested affection be an eminent branch of the Christian temper, 3'et it does not (as some
Seb. v.] the love of our neighbour. 65
have maintained) constitute the whole definition of virtue, or comprise all the parts of an excellent human character. As it does not extinguish the other inno- cent feelings of human nature, so neither does it entire- ly change or sublimate them into itself. There is no inconsistency, either in theory or in fact, between a sub- ordinate regard to our own interest and a benevolent affection to the general good, any more than between the private attraction of cohesion and the public law of gravitation in the natural \vorld; but as the former guards the existence and welflire of individual bodies, while the latter makes all these individuals conspire to the general order and utility of the whole ; so in the breast of the good man private self-love superintends and promotes his personal welfare, while public benev- olence seeks the general good of his fellow beings. While a virtuous love of others unites his heart to their interest, and makes it his own, self-lo-\'e, as a secondary principle, prompts him to seek it as a mean of his own gratification and enjoyment ; for self-love necessai"ily desires and pursues whatever it finds conducive to per- sonal happiness, and therefore often has a concomitant and harmless influence even in the most general be- neficent actions.
I need not remind you, that you will presently have an opportunity to give a practical answer to these ques- tions, to determine whether your religion consists in a mere ceremonious observance of pious institutions, or whether it unites mercy with sacrifice ; whether the character of any of you, like that of the hypocritical Pharisees of old, combines an unfeeling, co\etous, and barbarous disposition towards man \vith the parade of devotion and sanctity tOAvards God, or like that of the good Centurion, sends up the united fragrance of pray-
66' THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. [Ser. V.
ers and alms, of fervent piety and liberal charity, as an acceptable memorial before God.
Let us solemnly remember, that all other accom- plishments, short of love to God and man, whether prophecies, kno^vledge, tongues, yea, faith and hope shall A'anish away. But charity never faileth ; it forms the spirit, employment, and bliss of perfect and happy immortals. Well therefore might the apostle conclude his encomium upon this excellent grace with those memorable words ; ' ' And now abideth fl^ith, hope, char- ity, these thi-ee ; but the greatest of these is chai'ity,"
@)ermon vi.
On Christian Charity.
1 Cor. xiii. 13. •The^ greatest of these is charity.
A HE apostle in this chapter delivers a fervent and sublime encoitiium on charity, and ranks it far above the most splendid gifts, which can adorn either men, or anc:els.
There seems to have been an invidious emulation among the Corinthians on account of their miraculous spiritual gifts, and a proud ostentation in the exercise of them. Hence, at the close of the preceding chapter, af- ter enumerating and commending some of the most dis- tinguished of these gifts, and exhorting the Christians at Corinth to " covet them," yea, to " covet them earnest- ly," the apostle adds, ttet he would yet " shew them a more excellent way ;" that is, something, which had a better claim to their zeal and pursuit, and which v/ould contribute more to their honour, usefuliiess, and joy.
But what is this " more excellent way ?" It is charity or Christian love ; which is here opposed and preferred, not only to extraordinary knowledge and eloquence, to prophetic and miraculous powers, but to the greatest ex- ploits of apparent benevolence and religious zeal ; such as devoting all our goods to the relief of the poor, and even our bodies to the flame in the cause of truth and holiness ; the first of which has the appearance of un- common love to men, and the last, of extraordinary love p
68 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VT.
to God. Yet if these are only appearances ; if the in- ward principles producing them are pride, vain-glorv, natural fortitude or obstinacy of temper, or some simi- lar motive, without any sincere respect to the glory of God, or the happiness of man ; in this case, the life and substance of charity are wanting, and these plausible ac- tions are but a hollow, deceitful, and unprofitable show.
The apostle further tells us, that these shining accom- plishments and appearances will soon forever cease ; but that true charity ne\'er faileth.
In the last verse of the chapter, he prefers lo^'e to other Christian graces, as he had before preferred it to extraordinary gifts. " And now abidcth faith, hope, charity ; these three ; but the greatest of these is chari- ty :" q. d. now, or during the present imperfect and mili- tant state of the church, each of these three graces is use- ful and necessary, and therefore must abide in the church at large, and in the bosom of each' of its sincere mem- bers. Yet still charity is the greatest of the three, both in its nature and duration.
In further discoursing on the subject, we will more fully describe the virtue of charity, and then show its pre-eminence above all other duties and graces as well, as above the most illustrious and even supernatural gifts.
In explaining the nature of charity, it is proper to ob- serve, that the original word precisely signifies loiw. It therefore denotes something far more noble and exten- sive, than mere acts of mercy and liberality t& the needy, or sentiments of candour and Catholicism towards our fellow Christians. Tlie former of these often flow from a kind of mechanical benevolence, or occasional sym- pathy ; while the latter in many cases imply and pro- tect a spirit of indifference to all religious principles and duties. When this is the case, our disposition to suc- c-)ur the wretched is rather an amiable instinct,, than a
See. VI. ] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 69
Christian grace ; and our pretended candour is rather a vice, than a virtue.
Evangelical charity is a principle infinitely superior to these. It is a right disposition of mind towai-ds all in- tellectual beings, and, above all, towards God himself, the fountain and summary of being, perfection, and hap- piness. It implies such a fixed view and esteem of God's transcendent greatness, rectitude, and gloiy, as engage us to consecrate all our faculties, affections, and actions to him, desiring above all things to imitate and honour hiniy and superlatively delighting in him as the Supreme Beauty and Good. As love to an excellent human friend, benefactor, and ruler implies complacency in hiis character anc^ government, an earnest pursuit of his hap- piness and honour, and a high estimation of his com- pany and friendship ; so lo\e to God involves a reveren- tial affection to his awful and amiable attributes, a cor- dial acquiescence in his perfect administration, a su- preme devotion to his interest, an unlimited desire of his favour and delight in his fellowship, habitual gratitude for his benefits, and a studious, practical conformity to his moral character and will. In a w^ord, true friend- ship to the Most High embraces his whole undivided character ; it relishes his holiness and justice as well, as his goodness ; it loves him for his own essential loveli- ness as well, as for his communicated benefits.
If we love God in the manner now defined, we shall naturally love his rational offspring for his sake, on ac- count of their near relation to him, and the image, which they bear, of his glorious perfections. We shall exercise benevolence to them from a pious respect to the example, the pleasure, and the honour of their di- vine Parent and ours, who loves and does good both to us and them, a\ ho commands us to show our affection to him by acts of kindness to them, and who is greatly
70 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VI.
pleased and glorified by every effort to advance their vir- tue and happiness. Since benevolence is the nature and beauty of God himself; since love to him and daily in- tercourse with him beget increasing likeness to his char- acter, we instantly perceive that a devout affection to the Deity will soften and expand the heart in godlike be- nevolence, will kill a selfish, proud, and malignant spir- it, and form its possessor to a gentle and forgiving, a just and fair, a sincere and faithful, a beneficent and liberal character. i
Thus love to God and charity to our neighbour are inseparably united ; the one is the sure basis, the other the beautiful superstructure, of universal good- ness. As he, who truly knov/s and regards his Maker, will imitate and please him by loving and seeking the good of his creatures ; so he, who has no proper affeC' tion to the great Parent, can have no genuine love to his children, nor any commanding principle of social virtue. He, who beholds the creation with the eyes of specula- tive or practical atheism, can see no order nor beauty in the system to draw and bind his affections to it, or to give him a lively and permanent interest in its happiness. Agreeably, an inspired apostle assures us, that " every one, wlio loveth him that begat, loveth him also, that is begotten of him;" that "every one, who loveth his brother, is born of God, and knoweth God ; but he that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is love."
As charity to our neighbour thus grows out of relig- ious principle, so its properties and fruits embrace the whole compass of social duty. Hence love to man is styled the fulfilling of the law, and the bond of perfectr ness ; because it gives being and perfection to every moral virtue ; because it unites and concentrates all so- cial duties, As all God's moral perfections and actions are summed up in love, as so many different modifications
Ser.VI.] on christian charity. '71
and expressions of it, so all the affections and offices, which we owe to mankind, are included in charity. This comprehends, and produces, a proper esteem of their persons and stations, a virtuous complacency in their excellent quahties, a cordial gratitude fo^ieir favours, and, above all, a benevolent pursuit of their welfare. By uniting- our hearts to their interest, it makes us seek and rejoice in it, as our own.
If we would see this generous virtue in its full size and beauty, let us minutely survey its several features, as drawn by the hand of inspiration in this chapter. " Charity suffereth long and is kind;" that is, she is slow to resent injuries, and prorppt to confer benefits, '' Charity envieth not ;" she does not grieve at the ex- cellence or happiness of others. " Charity vaunteth not herself, is not puffed up, doth not behave herself unseemly ;" that is, she does not proudly feel, nor os- tentatiously exhibit, her own advantages ; nor treat with Supercilious airs those, \\ ho are placed below her ; but her whole deportment is modest and decorous. *' Seeketh not her own ;" far from moving in the nar- row circle of self-interest, she sacrifices personal ease and profit to the general good. ^' Is not easily provok- ed ;" she not only refrains from causeless and exces- sive anger, but maintains a dignified composure even under great provocations. " Thinketh no evil ;" she does not easily suspect evil of others, nor does she wish or contrive evil against them. " Rejoiceth not in ini- quity;" she takes no pleasure either in the unjust ac- tions or sufferings of her neighbour. "But rejoiceth in the truth;" she is delighted in beholding innocence vindicated, and the cause of truth and righteousness triumph. " Beareth all things ;" that is, she covers the infirmities and faults of others, as far as is possible or safe, with the mantle of silence and forbearance.
75 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VI.
" Believeth all things ;" that is, she is ready to believe as favourably as possible concerning every person ; she ivill not impute falsehood or evil to any without con- vincing evidence. " Hopeth all things ; she will not despair of hejftjneighbour's repentance and salvation, so long as there remains a possibility of his amendment. *'Endureth all things;" she supports every evil from God, and every misfortune from men, with meekness and equanimity.
Having gone over this beautiful description, we must stop a few moments to observe, that several articles in it miist be understood in a qualified sense.
When charity is repiffesented, as bearing and, enduring all things, this does not imply, that the Christian spirit savours of stoical apathy, or of weak pusillanimity ; that it has no feeling of calamity, and no resentment of inju- ry ; or that it is wholly unmoved by the sins and dis- tresses of others. But the idea is, that while Chris- tianity, on some occasions, allows the sorrowful and even angry emotions of nature, it also duly regulates and sooths them ; yea, renders them excellent means of trying and maturing our virtues, particularly our pa- tient resignation to God, and our tender, active benevo- lence to men.
Again, when charity is represented, as believing and hoping all things, this by no means intends that Chris- tian love believes and hopes without, or even contrary to reasonable evidence. The charity of the gospel is not a blind and foolish principle. She does not bestow her complacency on all characters, principles, and ac- tions without inquiry or discrimination. She does not embrace those persons, as good men, whose avowed principles are evidendy suubversive of the faith and hope, the morals and piety of Christians. Nor does she admit to her fellowship tliose professed believers.
Ser. VI.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 73
whose lives contradict and disgrace their profession. Though we are forbidden to judge the secrets of men's hearts, and are bound to think as favourably of them, as their visible profession and practice will allow ; yet it is no violation of charity to infer the badness of the tree from the corrupt quality of its fruits. It is an eternal maxim both of reason and revelation, " By their fruits ye shall know them." Those men therefore insult both our reason and religion, who lay claim to our Christian charity, and require us to believ^e and hope well concerning their present character and future well- being, or who insist that their hearts ai-e good, v\ hen their outward conduct is immoral or impious ; or when tliey habitually and knowingly allow themselves in some one forbidden course, though in other respects they may exhibit a decent and even amiable deport- ment.
This leads me to remark further, that it is a danger, ous idea of charity to suppose, that it consists in a si- lent and courtly indulgence of those around us in all their follies and vices ; that it forbids us to give them pain, or to hazard their resentment, by faithfully re- provmg their transgressions, and labouring to reform them. Christian love does not obliee us to suffer and bear all things in such a sense, as to tolerate and coun- tenance those things, which are evil. The same apos- tle, who gives us this soft and tender description of charity, was himself a zealous and constant reprover of wickedness. His whole life and ministry were em- ployed in admonishing and converting a sinful world. He tells us, that on a certain occasion he publicly with- stood a fellow-apostle to the face, when he found him worthy of blame. In a word, the example of Christ himself, and many express precepts both of the Old Testament and the New, require us to show our Chris-
74 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Sbr. VL
tian love by rebuking offenders, by seeking to recover them to the right path by every effort of faithful and prudent zeal.
In fine, gospel charity has for its principal object the spiritual and immortal interests of mankind. The real Christian, having been deeply penetrated with the evil and danger of sin, with the importance of eternal real- ities, with the wonders and benefits of redeeming love, will desire above all things that his fellow sinners around him may have the same vie^^s, and partake in tlie same blessings with himself. His heart will echo the generous language of Paul to king Agrippa, " I would to God, that not only thou, but all that hear me, were both almost and altogether such as I am ;" were perfectly acquainted \\ ith the divine consolations and hopes of Christianity.
Having largely explained the nature, let us now con- sider the tra7isceiide?it i)ahie of Christian love. The apostle in this chapter, and the Bible at large, give char- ity, or real internal goodness, the preference to all those things, which are most apt to sharm and dazzle man- kind J such as religious ceremonies, extraordinary gifts, and even the virtues of gospel faith and hope. We will close our present discourse vv'ith shewing the supe- riority of divine love to ceremonial duties. This supe- riority, though not expressed, is fully implied in the passage before us.
The religion, ^vhich God prescribed to the Jews, consisted in part of positive institutions, or certain rites, which borrowed all their \'alue and force from the will of die Deity. Gross and superstitious people were perpetually inclined to rest, and even glory in this class of duties, as a cover and compensation for the neglect of inward piety and charitw But their successive proph- ets, and especially our divine Lord, constantly warned
Ser, VI.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 75
them of this dangerous error. The prophet Micah in particular, after declaring the insufficiency of mere cere- monies to procure the divine favour, adds, " He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good ; and what doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" Here jus- tice, mercy, and practical piety are eminently styled good ; that is, intrinsically, immutably, and eternally good, whereas the rites of the Levitical law were good only in an occasional and instrumental sense, or as tem- porary signs and means of true devotion, righteousness, and charity.
The Pharisees in our Saviour's time were very exact, yea, over scrupulous in observing the ceremonies of the law ; yet Christ brands them as vile hypocrites on this very account ; that is, because this ritual punctuality was united with, and intended to compound for, the neglect of the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and the love of God.
I'he same remarks will apply to the sacraments or positive rites of Christianity. They are only signs and instruments of love to God and man ; and if they usurp the place of this, they will defeat, instead of promoting the end and life of religion.
Christian baptism is a very significant and useful rite ; but how does it save or profit us? Not by putting away the filth of the flesh, not by washing or cleansing the bod}-, but by the answer or engagement of a good conscience toward God ; that is, it conduces to our benefit only, as it binds and urges us to real holiness. If therefore those, who present themselves or their children to this ordinance, do not honestly intend and improve it to this end, they not only destroy
76 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VI.
its value, but convict themselves of hypocrisy smd perfidy.
The Lord's supper is a most excellent institution ; be- cause it is not only a most impressive renewal of our baptismal oath, but when duly observed tends to enkin- dle the warmest gratitude to God and the Redeemer, to unite Christians into one aftectionate family, to en- gage them to a studious imitation of that lo^ e, which they celebrate, and thus to improve them in universal goodness.
Christian love and its practical fruits are therefore the end and soul of these sacraments. If we do not sin- cerely use them, as signs and instruments of tliis hea- venly temper, we and our religious profession are noth- ing ; we contradict, defeat and disgrace these holy ordi- nances, and thus pervert appointed means of good into engines of unspeakable guilt and mischief, both to our- selves and others. It appears, then, that no relig-? ious rites have any value compared with, or separate from Love.
H
Sermon vir. On Christian Charity.
1 Cor. xiii. 13. •The greatest of these is charity^
.AVING described the nature of charity, and shown its superiority to ceremonial duties, we proceed secondly to prove, that it is also greater than the most splendid and even miraculous gifts.
The apostle in this chapter enumerates some of the extraordinary powers, which were conferred on the first preachers, and many of the first disciples of our religion ; such as the gift of tongues, of prophecy, of understand- ing mysteries, and of working miracles. But these gifts, though more dazzling, are far inferior to the low- est degree of divine love. For the latter is a vital and transforming principle, which imparts to its possessor a new and divine nature, a permanent and excellent char- acter ; but the former may be styled adventitious ac- complishments, which do not penetrate and sanctify the heart, but when bestowed on a vicious man, leave him as unholy and wicked as before ; as in the case of Ba- laam, Judas, and others, whose miraculous gifts qual- ified them to edify others, but did not meliorate their own characters.
The spirit of love is a peculiar mark and seal of God's favourite children, and a sure pledge of future happiness. But the greatest gifts are often dispensed to the heirs of perdition. Agreeably, Christ tells us that
78 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VIL
many, who have prophesied in his name, and done ma, ny M^onderful works, shall be rejected at last among the workers of iniquity.
We may add, that gifts the most distinguished must ere long fail, but love will last forever. As the apostle enlarges on this idea, in order to show the pre-emi- nence of love, we will be somewhat particular in the iU lustration of it.
"Charity," says he, "never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail ; whether there be tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away." These miraculous gifts were soon to cease from the church, because the occasion of them was temporary. When the evidence of them was once completed, the whole canon of Scripture finished and widely dispersed, the gospel fully propagated, and the church of Christ enlarged and firmly established ; the extraordinary manifestation of the Spirit was no longer needed, and therefore was withdrawn. But charity was never to withdraw itself from the bosom of the church, or the hearts of her real members. The obligation, necessity, and advantage of love are perpet- ual. The honour of God and his Son, the comfort, strength, and glory of Zion, the successful propagation of Christian truth in the surrounding v. orld, must ever depend upon the culture of this divine temper. Then^ and only then, does the church of Christ appear a glo- rious fabric, when love cements its several parts, and diffuses itself through the whole. When the edifice of the church was once raised, extraordinary gifts, like the scaffolding of the building, were taken away ; but char- ity, being an essential part, a main pillar as well, as the mpst delightful ornament of the structure, must still re- main to beautify and support it.
Ser.vii.] on chexstian charity, 7^
As love can never fail in the church on earth, so it ■xtill always live in the New Jerusalem above. There, the extraordinary gifts of the apostolic age will not be needed, but will be lost forever in the perfect light of heav- en, as the twinkling stars vanish before the rising sun. " Now," says the apostle, " we know in part ; but when that which is perfect is come, then that \\ liich is in part shall be done away. For now we Siee through a glass darkly, but then face to face ; now I know iii part, but then shall I know even as I alsQ am known;" that is^ I shall know myself and superior beings, shall know God and his works, in a manner so direct and intuitive, in a degree so perfect and elevated, that my present knowl- edge, though aided by miraculous inspiration, is childish folly, yea, darkness in the comparison.
In consequence of this perfect knowledge, love shall never fail, but grow and expand to eternity. The glor rified Chi'istian will love his Master and Redeemer with an ai*4pur and strength equal to his knowledge. As he will never cease for a moment to exert and enlarge hi^ understanding upon the divine perfections ; so his ad- miring and devout affection to this infinite object will ever keep pace with this constant exertion and improve- ment of his understanding. At the same time the unceas- ing complacential smiles and beatific communications of Qod to him will call forth his highest, his perpetual ef- forts oi^ gratitude and praise. With what affectionate rapture will he behold th,£; glory^ and enjoy the society^ of his exalted Redeemer ! How will he gaze on that bo- loved and majestic face, which was once torn with thorns and pale with death, but is now arrayed in divine beau- ty and splendour ! With '^^ l^at tender, yet awful affection will he behold the marks of those sufferings, and of that }pve, which procured his salvation I
^0 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VII.
The saints in glory, being thus united to God by per- fect knowledge and love, will of coufse be united to one another in fervent charity. Their perfect knowledge of the truth and of each other's characters will forever ban- ish those mistakes and divided opinions, M^hich in this world so frequently produce mutual shiness, alienation, and injurious treatment. The celestial community will not, like eaithly societies, be composed of members, possessing jarring sentiments, dispositions, and charac- ters. Each member of that fraternity will fully know and appreciate every excellent quality, possessed by any other member. He will also perceive the near and in- separable union, which eveiy one bears to the Deity. Of course he will feel himself linked to every fellow mem- ber, and to the whole, by the most endearing ties of friendship and benevolence.
As the maturity of knowledge, so the perfect rectitude of will and of moral character among the blessed, will exalt and perpetuate their charity. This divine affection will never be checked or interrupted by inferior and opposing passions. The pure love of holiness, filling every heart, will unite each member to his holy and per- fect associates, and, above all, to that Being, who is the source and sum of moral rectitude and beauty.
The complete happiness of glorified saints will also nourish the flame of their charity. As the capacity of each one M'ill be perfectly filled ^^•ith joy, he will of course delight in the felicity of all his partners in bliss. There will be no room for jealousy or envj^, in a state^ where every one possesses as much honour and blessed- ness, as his faculties can receive. We find in the pres- ent world, diat when a man feels truly happy in him- self, his heart naturally overflows with benevolence to others. What then may be expected in the region of complete and universal happiness ? How naturally will
Ser. VII.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 81
the spirits of the blessed inhabitants mingle with one another, and each individual enjoy the transports of every kindred spirit, and the common felicity of the whole I With what pure and ever growing delight will they unite their hearts and voices, both in conversation and in praise ? With what sacred friendship will they con- template, promote, and rejoice in each other's perfection and blessedness !
Well therefore may charity be ranked above the greatest gifts, since it not only infinitely excels them ia point of duration, but forms the principal happiness and glory of celestial beings. It remains diat we shew,
In the ?/?f replace, that love is superior even to Christian Jak/i and hope. Though these are far more valuable, than even the extraordinary communications of the Spir- it ; though they are essential and abiding graces in the church below ; yet in real worth and duration they must yield to charity.
By faith is intended a firm and vital belief of the truths of the gospel ; and by hope, a well grounded and joyful expectation of its promised blessings. Both these graces are indispensably necessary, and highly beneficial, in this state of imperfection and trial, while the Chris- tian remains at a distance from the great Object of his expected felicity. In such a situation he necessarily walks by faith, and lives upon hope. Both his character and comfort are sustained and nourished by these vir- tues : yet still faith and hope, strictly speaking, are but temporary graces. For where vision begins, faith ends. Agreeably, faith and sight are opposed to each other. Hope is also confined to this state of imperfection, and implies that its object is not fully seen and enjoyed ; ** for,'* as the apostle reasons, " what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for ?" Complete fruition will therefore put a final period to hope. At least, neither of these two
g^ ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser.VH.
graces can exist in the same mode, or have the same use, in a world of perfect knowledge and enjoyment, which they possess in the present state. But it is the prerogativeof charity to derive new and immortal vigom* fiom that very sight and fruition, in which these other graces are forever lost.
I must also add, tliat "w hile these virtues continue, love still has the pre-eminence ; for faith, considered as dis- tinct from charity, is an act or accomplishment of the imderstanding ; but love is a ^'ital principle of the heart. Mere faith may exist in hypocrites, yea in devils ; but charity forms the main characteristic of holy and virtuous beings. I grant that faith is often represented in the gospel, as the root of moral and Christian excellence, as the medium of a saving union to and interest in the Re- deemer ; as the gi-eat condition of the sinner's justification and eternal happiness. But when faith is thus described and extolled, it always intends a belief of the heart as well, as of the head, and is accordingly expressed by phrases, which denote a cordial and practical affection to Christ as well, as a speculative assent to his doctrines. No person can truly receive Christ, come to him, trust and rejoice in him, or in one word, comply with his method of salvation, without sincerely loving his charac- ter and requirements. So far therefore as our faith is truly virtuous and saving, it is love, which makes and proves it to be so. Accordingly, faith, without love and corresponding obedience, is declared to be unprofitable and dead.
Hope likewise is no further a Christian grace, than it implies and nourishes a spirit of charity. Without this, it is a merely selfish passion, which terniinates its desires and expectations in personal happiness. It be- comes a gospel virtue only, when it delights in God, and expects its ultimate blessedness in him ; when it af-
Ser. VII.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 83
fectionately anticipates the heavenly felicity, as the fruit and crown of present holiness, as mainly consisting in the perfect exercises and joys of virtuous love ; and as embracing the consummate happiness of all its fellow saints, united with the highest glory of God and his Son ; and when these generous prospects expand the heart with the best affections toward God and man.
As love is thus the life of Christian faith and hope, so it is their designed end and perfection. The main use of the two latter is to invigorate and mature the former. When man by sin had lost the image of God, consist- ing in love, and of course was cut off from his favour, a revelation of divine mercy was needful for his recovery. By believing and hoping in this merciful revelation, the guilty offender is encouraged and allured to return to God by filial love and obedience, and thus the work of charity, or real holiness, is gradually perfected in his nature. As love therefore is the end of divine revela- tion, and indeed the end and substance of all religion, so faith and hope are means to this end. Their office and glory consist in being handmaids to charity ; and when they have reared her to maturity, and conducted her to the door of her appointed celestial habitation, they will resign their employment and existence forever.
W^c might further remark, that the immediate object and fruit of charity far excel those of the two other vir- tues. The object of virtuous love is the universe, in- cluding the Creator and all his rational creatures. Its fruit is the greatest public good, which it has power to produce. It directly seeks and promotes the common happiness. It immediately forms the generous, active friend, patriot, and philanthropist. But mere faith and hope are private virtues, which more immediately re- gard and secure personal benefit.
R
S4 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser. VII.
Finally, the crowning pre-eminence of love is, that it directly assimilates and unites the soul to its Maker. " God is love." This characterizes his whole nature and conduct. His wisdom is but enlightened benevo- lence, planning the best means of extensive good. His power is but the energy of love, giving full effect to these means. His truth is the sincerity and constancy of goodness. His holiness is but pure and comprehen- sive love, steadily regarding and pursuing the order and virtuous felicity of the moral system. His govern- ing justice, even as exercised in threatening, chastising, and finally punishing sin, like that of good parents and rulers, secures the obedience and happiness of the whole, by needful warnings, by terrible, but wholesome examples. In short, it was infinite love, vi^hich made and redeemed, which supports and rules the world. That soul, therefore, which is animated with holy love, possesses, according to its capacity, the image and life, the blessedness and glory of God himself. In the sub- lime language of inspiration, it is filled with all the ful- ness of God ; it dwells in God, and God in it ; it is one with God and with Christ, as he and his Father are one. But the two other Christian graces, though very necessary in imperfect creatures, yet do not so directly assimilate them to their Creator ; for there are no quali- ties in God, which resemble faith and hope in man ; tlife perfect knowledge and happiness of Deity exclude from his nature the existence of both.
As our subject is in its own nature practical, there is less need of a formal application. We shall there- fore close with a few short inferences, founded upon its leading branches.
If charity be superior to ceremonial institutions, let us ever regard and improve them accordingly. Let us perform the duties of private and public worship, as
Se». VII.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 85
expressions and instruments of real goodness. Let us never think there is any virtue in the mere formality of devotion ; much less in using it, as a compensation or license for the want or the violation of charity. Prayer without good affections and good works is a vain, yea a polluted sacrifice. It is remarkable that the main spirit of our Lord's prescribed pattern of de- votion breathes and enforces pious and virtuous affection. By teaching us to call God our Father, it inculcates filial love and conformity to him, and brotherly affection to all his children. By instructing us to pray for the universal sanctification of his name, extension of his kingdom, and fulfilment of his will, it forcibly inculcates not only piety, but umversal benev- olence. By obliging us to profess forgiveness of inju- ries, it binds us to lov<e and do good even to enemies, and thus to be perfect, as our Father in heaven is per- fect. How deplorably then is the duty of prayer de- feated and perverted, if instead of sincerely expressing and promoting a spirit of universal goodness, it nour- ishes sour bigotry, malignant, superstition, pharisaical pride, sordid selfishness ; or encourages us to omit sub- stantial moral duties ! Let us then worship God in se- cret and with our families, let us observe the Sabbath and attend the peculiar ordinances of our religion, with a leading desire to attain the great end of these duties. Let us not despise or neglect these institutions, because some others attend them in a useless or hypocritical manner. Let us remember, that in the present state of man, and by the wise appointment of God, these ob- servances are indispensable symbols, guards, and pro- jnoters both of virtue and piety.
Again. If charity be greater than even miraculous gifts, this should prevent our indulging envy or discon- tent on account of our inferiority to the primitive Chris=
86 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. [Ser. VIL
tians in respect of these extraordinary communications. It should aAA-aken our j^ratitude and joy to reflect that, though we are denied these vouchsafements, which are now unnecessary, we may still possess that real good- ness, which is the principal thing. The most weak and illiterate true Christian may well be contented and joyful, when he considers, that though he wants those splendid gifts of nature and science, which adorn some characters around him, he possesses something infinite^ ly more noble and happy ; that he is far greater in the sight of God, and of all good judges, than the most fa- voured son of genius and learning, who is a stranger to Christian virtue. Persons of the highest intellectual ac-. complishments ha^'e also great reason for humility and candour, when they consider, that some of their most obscure neighbours or meanest domestics may proba- bly excel them in that goodness, which constitutes real greatness.
Finally. If charity be so far superior even to gospel faith and hope, let none of us rest in any appearance of the two latter, to the neglect of the former. Let us remem- ber, that the most orthodox faith will only condemn us, if our hearts and lives contradict and disgrace it ; that a zealous profession of the doctrines of evangelical grace and holiness will only convict us of odious inconsistence and hypocrisy, and enhance our future punishment, if we practically exhibit an ungracious and unholy dis- position.
Let us, on the one hand, avoid the dangerous ex- treme of exalting charity on the ruins of faith ; or of supposing it a matter of indifference whether we believe the gospel or not, if we are but candid, decent, and blameless in our lives. As a guard against this error, let us remember that a man's real character is mainly formed by his prevailing belief; that the gospel, and
Ser. VII.] ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 87
faith in it are the instruments appointed by God for re- covering us to real goodness ; that if we reject this di- vine rehgion, we not only lose its offered blessings and incur its threatened punishment, but prove ourselves destitute of that charity, which we fondly substitute in its room.
But while we profess to believe and hope in the gos- pel, let us justify our profession by its fruits. Let our Christian knowledge, belief, and hope, produce and nourish Christian love, with all its benign and happy ef- fects. Let us embrace in the arms of our charity every professed believer, who appears to love God and his neighbour, even though his creed, or his hope, be not so correct or so stable as our own. By cherishing in our- selves and in all around us this heavenly temper, let us endeavour to make the Christian church on earth re- semble, as nearly as possible, the kingdom of heaven. In this way, let us be ripening for that world, where our present imperfect gifts and graces shall be lost or com- pleted in perfect light, enjoyment, and charity.
Sermon viiif
On the Vices of the Tongue.
James iii. 8.
But the tongue can no wan tame ; it is an unruly evil^ full of deadly poison.
HE apostle in this chapter gives a Uvely represen- tation of the unbounded guilt and mischief produced by the tongue. He compares the mighty and extensive influence of this little member to that of bits in the mouth of the horse, of the small helm, which com- mands the greatest ships, and of a little fire spreading into a devouring flame.
These similies are equally just and strong. For as the tongue, when duly governed, like a bridle or a helm, has a beneficent and commanding influence on the whole body, or on the general course of human ac- tion ; so a tongue loosened from moral restraint leads to dreadful consequences, resembling those of giving the reins to the unbroken steed, of neglecting ihe. rud- der in the midst of rocks and tempests, or of letting a fire rage uncontrolled amid a large collection of com- bustible materials. Having previously observed, that the most fierce and venomous brutes have been tamed by mankind, he adds, in the text; "But the tongue can no man tame ;" that is, either no man can subdue his own tongue in a perfect manner, or by his own in- dependent ]Dower and skill ; or none can tame the licen- tious lips of others, so as entirely to check the breath of
Ser. VIII.] THE VICES OF THE TONGUE. qq
slander and falsehood, of obscenity and profaneness. "It is an unruly evil," which breaks over the strongest barriers — " full of deadly poison;" ever ready to infect and kill the reputation, virtue, and comfort of all within its reach.
The words thus explained lead us to enumerate and reprove the most common and glaring- instances of this unruly and destructive evil. Though the apostle tells us that no man can tame it, this should not discourage the friends and teachers of religion from attempting the necessary, though arduous task ; for with God all things are possible ; he has commanded us to warn the wick- ed ; and he often blesses his own institutions for the conversion of his enemies as well, as the edification of his friends.
The most prevalent and pernicious examples of an ungoverned tongue are those, v»^hich follow.
First. Profane discourse. This comprehends an unmeaning, irreverent, or wanton use of the name of God, on trivial occasions ; to embellish the sallies of wit ; to give expression and force to the vehemence of passion ; to add new credit to assertions or promises ; to impress awe and submission on servants or inferiors ; or to display a spirit of independence, and a superiority to vulgar superstition. It also includes that more timid or implied profanity, which, though restrained by law, or by character, by some regard to friends or to con- science, from explicit irreverence or imprecation, is yet fond of lisping or abridging the language of impiety, and often steps on the borders of an oath, by transgressing the limits of simple affirmation or denial ! Are there any tongues in this assembly, which answer to either of these descriptions? I must faithfully admonish their owners, that they possess and are diffusing a poisonous and destructive evil. Their profane conversation is a
90 ON THE VICES [Saa. VIII.
dishonour to themselves, aii injury to their compan- ions, an outrage to society, and an affront to their Maker.
It is a dishonour to themselves, as it proclaims both their folly and rudeness. It certainly discovers a fool- ish and empty mind to introduce the most awful names and protestations to sanction trifles, to supply the want of sentiment, or to fill up the gaps of discourse. This practice is also foolish, as it has no plausible motive or excuse. It gratifies no constitutional appetite or pas- sion. It procures no advantage, pleasure, or glory. It displays no politeness or liberality. On the contrary, it offends all decent company by its coarseness and bar- barity. It insults the feelings, sentiments, and institu- tions of civilized men, but especially the religion and laws of every Christian community. It operates as a mortal pestilence to society by corrupting its moral and religious character, and thus subverting its order and welfare, and drawing down upon it the curse of Heaven. It is a deadly poison both to the state and the church by gradually extinguishing all reverence for the oaths of the fonner, and the sacred institutions of the latter.
The profane swearer likewise unspeakably injures his associates, by depraA'ing their moral faculties and feel- ings, or by lightly uttering against them the most dread- ful imprecations. He also commits practical suicide, either by directly T\ishing die curse of God on his own head, or by boldly challenging his almighty vengeance. He offers the greatest abuse to the name and attributes of Deity, by making them the expletives, the ornaments, or the attestations of e\'ery wanton or passionate effu- sion. He virtually and openly abjures his Christian baptism, and proclaims himself an infidel and a heathen. Agreeably, when Peter was cliarged with being a dis- ciple of Jesus, he in the hour of trial resorted to cursing and swearing, as a confutation of the charge. By this
ser. vtil] of the tongue. 91
kind of speech, so opposite to the known practice of Christ's followers, he effectually denied his blessed Mas- ter. I have heard of young men in our own country, who having enjoyed a Cliristian education, and being re- moved from the eye and authority of pious parents and friends, have eagerly adopted the same method to con- vince their new associates of their sudden triumph over early prejudice and bigotry ! Let these united consid- erations prevail to banish from our discourse, from our houses and our streets, this most foolish, inex- cusable and detestable vice. Let none plead the force of habit as an excuse for continuing it. Those, who are most addicted to it, can easily refrain from com- mitting it in the presence of a fellow being, whom they respect. Shall not the constant presence of God have equal effect? The most abandoned swearer would in- stantly renounce the practice, were he sure of losing his prostituted tongue the next time it uttered an oath. And shall not the threatening of a far greater punish- ment from the insulted Majesty of heaven have equal force in reforming offenders ? Let none shelter them- selves under the authority of modern example. Bless- ed be God, profaneness is not the fashionable style of New England. It is only the dialect of the most uncul- tivated, stupid, or profligate citizens. Let us scorn both the society and manners of such low beings, and aspire to the fellowship and imitation of those excellent ones of the eai'th, who reverence, love, and obey their
Creator.
IL A Second evil of the tongue is scoffing at religion, or ridiculing her sacred doctrines and institutions. Those who practically neglect, or secretly hate and de- spise Christianity, frequently resort to this practice in their own defence, and as an easy and striking method
92 ON THE VICES [Ser. Vril.
of proving their superior wit, information, or liberality. As they are determined to disregard religion in their conduct, they naturally employ their tongues in justify- ing this determination. They seek to prcser^'e and strengtl-icn their own character and ti'anquillity by gain- ing over their companions to the side of irreligion : and since they cannot effect these purposes by argument, they sup])ly the want of reason by the cheaper commod- ities of banter and ridicule. It is needless to em- ploy much time in exposing tliis vile prostitution of speech. That mouth, which reviles or scoffs at sacred things, is eminently entitled to ever}- part of the de- scription, here given of an unruly tongue. " It is a fire, a ^vorld of iniquity ; it sctteth on fire the course of nature^ and is set on fire of hell." It is truly full of deadly poi- son ; for it is prompted by a mind fraught w ith harden- ed impiety and malignity. It employs the most unfair and wicked means to accomplish the worst end. It dif- fuses the most fatal and lasting evils. It poisons the s^irings of human action and comfort. It directly in- sults God, and corrupts his rational creatures. It does the greatest injury to religion and moralit}', and the high- est ser\ice to falsehood and wickedness. The person, v^ho derides serious things, must be responsible at last, not only for his personal guilt, but for all that depravity of principle and conduct, which his infectious conversa- tion has propagated to others.
III.' A lying tongue is also an unruly and destructive evil. The Bible, and indeed the most approved sjs- tems of ethics condemn every species of intentional falsehood. Lying is an offence against the God of truth. It is a perversion of the noble gift of speech. It violates the chief bond of social confidence, security, and order. Hence both God and man have ranked liars amono: the most criminal and infamous characters.
Ser.viii.3 of the tongue. 93
Thev are classed in the Scripture with whoremongers and murderers, and doomed to the same future punish- ment. Are tliere any in this audience, to whom this character belongs ; any who in their bargains and deal- ings either magnify things abo^^e, or depreciate them below their known value, or in any other respect devi- ate from the truth, for the sake of worldly ad\'antage ; who, when questioned by superiors, deny, extenuate, or conceal facts, Mhich the sacred laws of truth, and the general good, oblige tlieni to reveal ; who in their en- comiums knowingly ascribe to themselves or others greater talents or acquirements, virtue, or performances, than they are warranted by truth to do, or, in their cen- sures put false or aggravated constructions on the words and actions of their neighbour ; v^ho in their promises engage to pay a debt, perform a ^ork, or to do a kind- ness, when they either do not mean, or have not power to fulfil such engagement, or take no after care either to perform their promise, or seasonably to give notice of their inability ; or lastly, who in their common narra- tives utter fiction or exaggeration in the room of fact, or deliver positi\-e assertions, which are unjustified or contradicted by their oun knowledge or persuasion ? All, ^vho are guilty in either of these particulars, com- mit a high oftence against God, their neighbour, and human societ}'. They resemble that deceitful and ma- lignant spirit, -who was a liar from the beginning, and ^vho is iustlv called the father of lies.
IV. Scurrilous and reproachful language towards those, ^^•ith ^vhom \xe are connected, is another instance of an unruly tongue. This our Saviour tells us is a breach of the sixth commandment ; it is killing w ith the tongue. " Whosoever is angry with his brother without cause," and in his passion calls him Raca^ thou base fellow, or t/wu fooi, shall be in danger of God's
94 ON THE VICES [Ser. VIIL
future vengeance. Christianity requires us to put away all bitterness and wrath, clamour and evil speaking, and to address even our servants and inferiors in the language of tenderness and benignity. The reverse of this is both inhuman and unchristian. Those, who freely dis- pense to those around them reproachful names and epi- thets, should consider that the persons, w'hom they thus abuse, have the same common nature. Father and Re- deemer with themselves ; that they may possibly inher- it as much sense, integrity, and goodness ; that if they are subject to bodily or mental infirmities, to outward poverty and meanness, it is God, who has thus subject- ed them ; and if we deride them on these accounts, we reproach their Creator. Let us further consider, that many, who are visibly low and obscure, are rich in faith and holiness, and of course honourable in the eyes of God, and therefore ought to be respected by us. In short, contemptuous and bitter language is not only im- proper, but always useless and hurtful. It never com- mands that hearty respect and obedience from our infe- riors, which an opposite treatment secures. It sinks the character and authority of those, who use it ; while it fixes a deep wound and perhaps a lasting enmi- ty in the bosoms of those who receive it. If reproach- ful words are thus indecorous and criminal in superiors towards persons placed beneath them; they are still more heinous when used by the latter towards the for- mer. What an outrage against nature, decency, and virtue, for children to treat their parents, especially when aged, with the language of disrespect or contempt ! How siiocking for the child, or the youth to behave himself proudly against the ancient ; or the base against the hon- ourable ; or for subjects on every slight occasion to re- vile their rulers !
Ser. VIIL] of the tongue. ■ 95
Nearly related to this particular arc the several forms of evil speaking, for instance, uttering things to the disadvantage of absent persons without any necessity or prospect of utility ; uncharitably censuring their actions, character, or state, or disturbing the harmony and com- fort of families and neighbourhoods by officiously inter- meddling with their concerns, by meanly prying into their transactions and secrets, and eagerly propagating and commenting upon them. This practice describes the whole company of tatkrs and busy bodies^ w hom the apostle reproves with an air of mingled abhorrence and indignation. There is likewise a foolish talking and jesting^ which St. Paul mentions as unbecoming the Christian character. Jesting or humorous discourse is not criminal, when employed merely for harmless and needful relaxation, or when used to chastise folly, error, and vice. But it is always sinful and injurious, when it is made the vehicle and promoter of levity or scandal, of infidelity or profaneness, of malice or obscenity.
This brings us to a Jifth and last instance of an un- ruly tongue, viz, Jilthy communication. This sin is pe- culiarly shameless, corrupting and infectious. It wages war with natural modesty, civil decorum, and Christian purity. It is a high offence against the pure nature and law of God. It evinces and increases the moral pollu- tion and vileness of the offender. It eminently dis- qualifies him for the pure exercises of religion, and the holy entertainments of heaven. Like a moral poison, it conveys an impure and destructive contagion to oth- ers. It has greater influence in the propagation of vice, than perhaps any other kind of evil discourse. Hence St. Paul charges Christians, that uncleanness be not once named among them ; he exhorts them to put it away from their months as well, as from their practice.
96 ON THE VICES [Ser. VIIL
Ha\ Ing enumerated the principal evils of a licentious tongue, I ^^ ill close with some general rules for the due go\'ernmcnt of our speech.
1. Let us see that our hearts be truly and thoroughly sanctified. It is from the evil treasure of the heart, that the evil things abo\e specified are produced. If the law of holy lo\e to God and men Mere x^'ritten in our hearts ; if \\e were constantly governed by it, as a li\'- ing, all controlling principle ; we should not, we could not, willingly ofteiid either the one or the other, with our lips : we could not hidulge, nor even endure, the language of impiety or falsehood, of slander or re- proach : it would not be a burdensome task, but our delight and glory to restrict our discourse within the bounds of Christian sobriety, benevolence, and piety. Our hearts being seasoned A\ith grace, our speech would naturally be savory and edifying. Let it then be our first, our most anxious concern, that this inward fountain of our words and actions be purified by the word and spirit of God.
2. In dependence on di\ine grace let us enter into a solemn resolution and covenant against the sins above reproved, and all others connected with them. Let us adopt and bind on our souls David's vow, Ps. xxxix. 12. Let us make, and daily renew this engagement, in the presence and strength of Almighty God, without any equivocation or mental reserve. In this way we shall erect, and continually fortify a strong hold agiiinst temptation.
3. Let us studiously aAoid evil company. AVe in- sensiblv slide into a resemblance of our associates. This is remarkably verified in the facility, Avith which young persons of the most pious education catch the j^rofane br indecent language of licentious companions. Let me then affectionately caution the childrexi and youth of
Ser.VIII.] of the TONGtE. 97
this assembi}- to have no friendship, nor even society", witli the iingodh' and dissokite. " My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. Enter not into tlie path of the \^ icked ,' a\oid it ; pass not by it ; turn from it^ and pass away, lest thou learn his 'x\ a}'s, and get a snare to thy soul." Let us also, who are parents and heads of families, use the greatest vigilance and authority in kccjiing our children, domestics, and houses pure from the dreadful contagion of evil company and conversa- tion. Otherwise our personal examples and instruc- tions, howe\'er excellent, will probably have but little effect.
4. Let us form a habit of deliberating, and serious- ly reviewing our tlioughts, before we give them utter- ance. The author of the Psalms repeatedly mentions with contrition what he had spoken in his haste. Mo- ses, that pattern of meekness, once " spake unadvisedly with his lips,'^ and forfeited Canaan by it, because he did not solemnly reflect, before he expressed his feel ings. Most of us have probably transgressed in a sim- ilar manner. Let this teach us the needful lesson of correcting our first impressions by deliberate reflection, before we give them the sanction of our iips. Let us likewise often meditate on the sti'ict account v/hich is kept of our vain and sinful speeches, by our omniscient. Judge. He has assured us that for every idle word, which men shall speak, they shall give account in the day of judgment. Let us habituate ourselves to reflect with a tender conscience on our daily discourse, and to humble ourselves in the presence of God for every off» fensive or unguarded woi'd, which escapes us. Final- ly, let us by fervent and constant prayer put ourselves imder the gracious conduct and protection of Heavea : Let us daily offer the petition of David — " Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth, keep the dooi- of my lips.**
98 THE VICES OF THE TONGUE. [Ser. Vltt.
Let me especially recommend these friendly counsels to the rising generation. Begin early, my young friends, to devote yourheai'ts, and lips, and lives to your Crea- tor. Let your mouths be early accustomed to the lan- guage of purity and devotion, if you would hope to join in the holy conversation and praises of heaven ; for there shall in no w ise enter into that blessed place any thing that worketh, or speaketh abomination.
©crmon ix.
The Character of a Wise Man,
Psalm iii. 10. The Fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom,
VV ISDOM is a quality so honourable, that almost e\'ery man aspires to the reputation .of possessing it \ and no character is e;enerallv accounted more disQ:race- ful, than that of a fool. Many j^ersons place a greater value upon reputed wisdom, than exemplary honestj'-, and esteem it a more grievous reproach to be taxed with weakness of understanding, than with badness of morals. But in the uneiTing judgment of Heaven, no man mer- its the appellation of nvise, who is not truly good ; for, says the text, " the fear of the LoRiP is thg beginning of wisdom." Jr ■ vifr rjf;
The fear of the Lord, in the scriptural «tyle, is but another name for the principle and practice of piety. It imports such aftectionate veneration for the Most High, as produces a filial and effectual fear of offending him by disobedience, and prompts the most tender and earnest endeavours to please and to honour him. It therefore includes the whole of virtue, at least in its inward spirit, or commanding principle. When this fear of God is called the beginning of wisdom, the idea is, that true piety is the first principle, or the highest ingredient of genuine wisdom.
The text, therefore, directly leads us to illustrate, confirm, and apply the following proposition.
100 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX.
He, and he only is a M'ise man, who regulates his heart, and life by the doctrines and precepts of religion. The man of religion acts upon these two great princi- ples", First, that there is a God, who made and go\erns the world ; and Secondly, that this Supreme Ruler will reward or punish men in a future state for their moral behaviour in the present. We n:iust add, that the pious and virtuous man, if favoured w ith the light of revelation, wiKf Rlso^Day lic^^bred practical attention to the peculiar doctrines, duties, and motives of Christianitv. Deeply ]mj3itfss(^I UTtli'the momentous discoveries presented to lilm'^fiV reason and scripture, he feels it to be his great int^res'l',' 'anfd makes it his supreme care so to conduct in thilJ'^t^rftlras'tb's'eciire everlasting happiness in the next. 0oe$''nbt'cverv rational mind instantly percei\-e and ap- iMaud^tKd:^ wisdom dfsuch a character ? Does it not pro- iiOii'fic'e the opposke to be a display of egregious folly ? "'^B'lit' in order to place this subject in the most forcible ]76rnt of vie\^', M^e will make three different suppositions rcspcctrng the principles, on which the behaviour of the virtuous man proceeds ; and we shall find that on either "of'those suppositions- he acts a far \\iser part, than the practical unteliever. The great j^rinciples of natural and rcA'Caled religion may, for the sake of illustration, be considered either as false or doubtful, or as certainly true.
In the first place, if we suppose for a few moments these principles to be false, as infidels and atheists pretend ; yet in this case the man of piety and virtue ultimately loses nothing by his goodness, but evidently has the ad- A-antage. For his belief in God and providence, his contemplation and hope of immortalit}-, though not final- ly realized, are a source of unspeakable comfort and benefit to him in the present state. Thc}^ spread light, harmon}', and beauty over the face of the natural and
Ser. IX.] A WISE MAN. 101
moral world, wJiich to the eye of atheistical philosopli}- present nothing but dark and cliaoUc confusion. The sentiment of a Deity and a future btate gi\es a noble expansion and elevation to the soul ; it enlarges the understanding, delights the imagination, and rejoices the heart. It heightens all our innocent enjoyments, and inspires fortitude, serenity, and triumph under the prcG- sure of outward calamity. It gives vigour, stability, and pleasure to the practice of those virtues, which contri- bute to health and peace, to reputation and competence.
1. The man of religious principles and strict morals has vastly the advantage of the opposite character in FiCspect to healthy that prime source of temporal happi- ness. Religious virtue, comprising habitual temperance, ' charit}-, and devotion, and imphing a well regulated,' calm, and cheerful spirit, is exceedingly friendly to the regular, vigorous and happy tone of our bodies : as
'Solomon emphatically expresses it, it y:^ health to the fleshy and marroiu to the bones. But vicious passions and indulgences, a disordered heart, and an idle, intemperate, licentious life, waste the animal constitution, and yield the bodj' a pre}' to disease and pain, and frequently to untimely dissolution.
2. Religious wisdom is the parent of mental tranquil- lay; while uneasiness and anxiety are the inseparable fruit and curse of sinful propensities. View the man, who is devoted to sensuality, ambition, or avarice. He must rise early, sit up late, pursue his dark design, with cautious and persevering labour, with a fearful and mis- giving mind ; he must invent and practise a thousand expedients to accomplish and to disguise his unworthy object : while the honest, humble, contented child of virtue is good and pious at a much easier rate. He feels safe and confident in his o^^■n integrity. Conscious of his own uprightness and worth, he feels no necessity
102 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. iX.
either of carefully concealing or officiously displaying his character. He needs no expense of anxious labour to save or set off appearances. He resembles the sun in the heavens, who shines without taking artificial pains to shine, and who employs no effort or disguise to con- vince the world that he is not a dark, but a lumin- ous body.
The difference between the vicious and the virtuous man, in respect to internal peace, is inexpressible. The former, let his outward circumstances be ever so easy and flourishing, is like the troubled sea, which cannot rest. His mind is daily agitated by guilty, ungoverned, or discordant passions ; it is either swelled by pride, corroded by envy, torn by anger, inflamed by lust, or consumed by revenge. These and similar emotions, with their criminal and calamitous effects, not only im- mediately operate to banish self-enjoyment, and pro- duce inward tumult and agony, but they arm against the offender the bitter reproaches of his own reason and conscience. On the other hand, true virtue, by subdu- ing and harmonizing the inferior powers, gives the mind a serene enjoyment of itself, and of every object around it ; it inspires that noble firmness, that heart-felt joy, which arises from self approbation.
3. The fear of the Lord confers a great advantage in point of reputation. However degenerate the world is, it cannot withhold its esteem and even veneration from the just and faithful man, whose whole conduct pro- claims, that he acts from principle, that he religiously abhors whatever is base and dishohest. It cannot re- fuse its respect to the man of exemplary sobriety, who triumphs over every vicious propensity, over every temptation to forbidden indulgence. Even those who are destitute of virtue, are aued by its majesty, anc^ charmed by its beauty, when they see it strongly reflect-
Ser. IX.l A WISE MAN. 105
ed from the conduct of its votaries. On the other hand, contempt and infiimy are the general lot of the wicked. What objects of scorn and detestation are the sons of falsehood and knaveiy, of intemperance and debauche- ry ! Familial" intercourse with such persons is shunned, as reproachful and contaminating, by every man of de- cency and reputation ; even their occasional society is painful to delicate and virtuous minds. In short, few men are so insensible to the lustre of virtue, as not to covet the honour w hich attends it, and thousands pay homage to it, by assuming the garb, and aspiring to the credit of it, \\ hile their evil propensities hinder them from cordially espousing its interest. This reputation, which accompanies goodness, is at once an unspeakable pleasure and advantage to its possessor ; while the shame, attendant on vice, is a most poignant evil.
I am aware of a plausible objection to this assertion, founded on those words of St. Paul, " If in this life on- ly, we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable." This passage has been understood by ma- ny, as a declaration, that the most virtuous Christians would be the most wretched of mankind, if they had no hope of a better life, or if this hope should prove delu- sive. But the connexion plainly limits this text to the first professors and ministers of Christianity, and partic- ularly to the apostles, whose sufferings for the gospel were extraordinary and unceasing. It has therefore no reference to the subject in discussion. Besides, if these Christian teachei's did not really belie\e and hope in a future life, they must have been the most impious and cruel impostors ; all their preaching and conduct must have been founded on a wicked and illusory scheme of pretended doctrines and facts, and calculated to seduce thousands of their fellow men into poverty, disgrace, and ruin in this world, in the chimerical hope
104 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX.
of endless but imaginary iciicity in the next ; conse- quc.itly, instead off Ipeing the most virtuous, they we-re reahy the most abandoned of human beings, and their inward guilt and horror of conscience, added to their \Aorldly sacrifices and suflbrings, might wtW render tliem of all men the most miserable. But how does this apply to those, who are truly honest in their relig- ious profession and practice ? We may add, St. Paul is evidently describing those, mIiosc belief and expres- sions are \a holly confined to this life ; but our preced- ing argument has proceeded in part on the idea, that the virtuous man has some hope in a future existence, though this hope is supposed to be unfounded. If tiie belief of God and immortality were entirely discarded, we grant that genuine religious virtue, and the consola- tion produced by it, could not exist ; what we now call morality would become mere M'orldly policy, or the .dictate of self interest ; yet even then it would be far bet- ter both for individual and social enjoyment to be visibly temperate, just and beneficent, than the reverse.
Lastly, The man of religious virtue has the advantage of the opposite character in regard to teviporal profit. For the esteem and confidence, which he possesses, are exceedingly favourable to liis ^vorldly business and suc- icess. Many branches of virtue naturally tend to compe- tence, and in some cases to aflluence,; such as temper- ance and industry, frugality and moderation, justice and integrity.
It appears then that the pious and virtuous man acts a wiser part than the practical infidel, e\'en on the most unfavourable hypotliesis, or on supposition that leligion is but a delusion ; for in ordinary cases he secures a much greater portion of present felicity.
I'hispart of our subject would be much strengthened, had we time to ripply it to social man, or to cojnpare the
Ser.ix.1 a wise man. 105
opposite effects accruing to ci^il society from the practical influence of religious and moral, or of irreligious and de- moralizing principles. A view of these contrasted ef- fects would add an unspeakable preponderance to the side of religion, by showing its immense advantages to communities as such, and of course to tiie several in- di^'idaals, who compose tliem. But waving so exten- sive a contemplation, to which your own experience, ob- servation, and reflection will readily do justice, I hast- en to the
Second supposition stated abo\'e, -which considers the principles of religion as doubtful, that is, as possible, or at most probable, but not certain. On this supposition tlie man, who practically regards them, still more e^i- dcntl}' acts the wiser part, for he chooses the safest side ; he runs no risk, though his belief and consequent prac- tice should e^•entually prove erroneous ; \\ hereas the un. believer runs the hazard of finai perdition. The pious man gains eternal happiness, if natural and revealed re- ligion be true ; but the infidel gains nothing, though his opinion should finally pro^^e correct. No wise man would needlessly expose himself to the bare possibility of losing a state of endless blessedness, and of incur- ring e\erlasting punishment. If therefore a future retri- bution be only possible, and certainly no infidel can demonstrate the contrar}-, they who deride or practically disregard it, they who live as if such a state were cer- talnh' a chimera, are in the view of common sense, the most desperate fools and madmen. This charge of folly is greatly heightened, if we suppose that religion is attended with some degree of probability. Now the single fact, that all nations and ages ha\'e concurred in embracing its leading principles, affords probable evi- dence of its truth j since no falsehood of so interesting a nature ever was or can be imposed Upon all nations and
106 THE CHARCTER OF [Ser. IX.
descriptions of men, so distant from each other in situa- tion, manners, interests, understandings, and disposi- tions ; especially since the most improved energies of the human mind, exerted on this subject, have never been able to detect the falsehood. A thousand other proba- bilities might be adduced on the side of religion.
But supposing for tlie present that it is probably true, the wisdom of believing and obeying it will readily and strongly appear. No man, in his temporal concerns, waits for iiituiti\'e or mathematical certainty to govern his faith and practice ; but he founds both on pre- ponderating evidence. Almost the whole business and commerce of mankind are necessarily and successfully conducted upon this principle, or upon such evidence as the nature of the case admits and demands. Now where our eternal interest is in question, a smaller prob- ability should determine us against risking or losing it,, than would be necessary in a merely temporal concern ; for the more important any interest is, the more cautious should we be against putting it to hazard ; the least probability of danger in this case should be watchfully precluded. Suppose on the one side there is a possibility that future retribution may never take place; yet if this should be the fact, the religious man sustains only this inconvenience, that he did not give an unbounded licence to his sensual pleasures, but subjected them to the probable, though imaginary belief of immortality; but even this self-de- nying regulation of appetite and passion gave him more ease, more present satisfaction and benefit, than unlimit- ed indulgence could possibly afford. But on the other side, it is highly probable, that there will be a future state ; and in this event how miserable will be the prac- tical unbeliever ! In the mean time, the apprcliension of such an issue nuist greaUy mar his present enjoyments.
ser.ix.] a wise man. 107
Let US now, in the
Third place, proceed upon the supposition, that the great principles of religion are certainly true. We shall not at present support this hypothesis by formal proof. It is suffieient to observe, that the existence of an un- originated and eternal, a designing and all powerful cause, is demonstrably certain from visible nature. The moral attributes, government, and final retri- bution of this great Being, may be satisfactorily inferred from his natural perfections, and from the present phenomena of the moral world. The truth of revealed religion is also clearly proved by past and present appearances, by abundant historic evidence of the leading facts recorded in the gcispel, and by the carl y and continued propagation, monuments, and beneficent effects of the Christian revelation.
Now the religious man v\isely believes and conducts according to this evidence. He perceives upon sober inquiry, that God and virtue, that the Bible and eterni- ty are names, which stand for the most solemn realities ; he therefore habitually treats them as such; he contin- ually lives to his Maker and Redeemer, to virtue and immortality. That such conduct is emphatically v^dse, Vv'ill more fully appear, if ^ve consider that it possesses all the characteristics of true wisdom. It implies a cor- rect discernment and choice of our supreme good. As religion, especially Christianity, informs us of our high- est interest and end, and of the only means to attain it; so the real Christian discerns and embraces that infinite good, which revelation sets before him. But irreligious men universally fail in this capital point ; they propose some finite, sensitive, or imaginary felicity, and mistake this airy phantom for true blessedness ; and though ev- ery experiment shows them that the object of their pur- suit is but a deceitful shadow, yet they court it afresh
108 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX„
with redoubled ardour. Justly therefore does the Psalm- ist exclaim, " Have all the workers of iniquity no knowl- edge?" This question implies that habitual sinners, hoM- excr learned or apparently wise, know nothing in a right manner,, or to valuable purpose. They ha^'e no real- izing and practical knowledge either of God, or the Saviour, of sin or duty, of this world or the next, or even of their own frame, condition, and prospect.
Further, the religious mim discerns and adopts t/ic proper 7nccms for securing his chief good. He aims to please and enjoy God, by imitating and obeying him» He prepares to see Christ as he is, by endeaAOurin;:^ to be like him. He seeks for a pure and holy heaven, by cultivating a pure heart and a holy practice in the pres- ent state. He seeks after the gospel salvation, in the gospel way, in the way of CAangelical faith, repentance and obedience. But every wicked man, \vho pretends to believe in religion, neglects the only right path to his professed object. He ostensibly pursues and expects eternal happiness, but what means does he use to attain it ? He seeks it either by a rouud of cold external wor- ship or moi^ality, or by inward faith, reliance, or raptur- ous feelings ;, while he omits^ yea, secretly hates that self-denying, practical, and universal holiness, "^Aithout which both reason and Scripture declare he cannot see the Lord- What monstrous infatuation, to seek and hope for everlasting felicity \\ithout possessing or even labouring after those moral qualities, \\ hich must fit him to enjoy it, and which go to constitute the happiness itself !
Lastly, the crowning property of wisdom is a 'Vigorous application of the means, a\ hich lead to our end. Tliis forms the greatest line of diftcrence between the sincere and nominal Christian ; the one diligently applies his knoAvlcdge to practice ; the other, with the same price
aER. IX.] A WISE MAN. 109
in his hands to get wisdom, is too thoughtless and indo- lent to improve it. In temporal affairs men easily and practically distinguish between a small and great, a mo- mentary and durable advantage, and readily resign the former to the latter ; but foolish sinners in tlieir highest concerns reverse this rule of action ; they sacrifice an invaluable and endless good to some trivial and tran- sient interest or pleasure. How careful is worldly wis- dom to observe and seize the fittest opportunities for pro- moting its object ! But how negligent are sinners of their peculiar advantages and seasons for gaining the isrue riches ! How carelessly do they v^^aste the iiower of their lives ! How many sabbaths and sermons, how many natural gifts and providential warnings, how many tender, serious, and promising moments are trifled away! While common prudence urges men to get their earthly property secured by a firm and certain title ; how un- concerned are the wicked about the nature of their title to an incorruptible inheritance ! While the principle of self preservation is ever alive to temporal danger, and full of earnest activity in guarding against it ; how slow are sinners to feel and avoid their constant danger of eter- nal perdition !
These observations sufficiently illustrate the folly of a sinful, and the wisdom of a religious life.
Our subject, in review, shows us in a strong light the moral depravity of the human mind. The same natu- ral faculties and principles, which enable and dispose men to act wisely in their temporal affairs, would lead to an equally w ise conduct in their eternal concerns, if they were not strongly perverted. The same reason and prudence, which make them provident and active for their bodily and secular welfare, would render them still more discreet and vigilant in securing their immor- tal happiness, if some awful infatuation had not seized
110 THE CHARACTER OF [Ser. IX.
their minds. What other reason can be assigned for the direct opposition between the arguments, feelings, and conduct of those, who despise or neglect religion, and the principles and behaviour of the same persons with respect to all other subjects ? We find that infidels and libertines will even glory in advancing such objections against religion, and such pleas for neglecting it, asJAcn they would be ashamed to employ on any other topic.
We find too that thousands, who professedly believe in religion, indulge and even justify a practice so con- trary to their profession, as to discoA-er the greatest mor- al stupidity and madness. How shocking is it for rea- sonable beings, in their highest concerns, to profess and to act in such a manner, that their avow ed principles and actions perpetually contradict and reproach each other ! How absurd, for men to excuse their present inconsis- tent conduct by the purpose of future amendment? Does not this very purpose imply a present conviction of folly, and )'et a resolution to continue in it ? Does it not likewise imply a bold presumption on some future opportunity, disposition, and ability to repent ? Yet no man in his senses will pretend to be certain of either of these futurities. These and similar foots, which we dai- ly see and feel, cannot be accounted for without admit- ting the scripture doctrine of human depravity. Sound philosophy teaches, that no other cause is adequate to such uniform and dreadful effects.
Again, with what an ill grace do irreligious men ridicule serious and exemplary Christians, as foolish and distracted visionaries ! If our text, and the general tenour of the Bible be true ; yea, if natural religion have any reality or even probability ; every habitual sinner, howcA-er sagacious or refined, is a fool ; and every pious . man, however weak in other respects, in the noblest sense is wise. The former, therefore, is a just object of
Ser. IX.] A WISE MAN. Ill
contempt, and the latter of veneration. Persons of the first class, instead of glorying in their own wisdom or liberality, and vilifying those, who shun their foolish and destructive paths, ought rather to despise and abhor themselves. Instead of reproaching religion, as making men whimsical or mad, they ought to revere it, as that which eminendy exalts and perfects the human character. Instead of feaiung to embrace it, lest it should contract their minds, or sink their spirits, they should eagerly re- pair to it, as the best source of rational improvement and comfort ; for happy is the man that findeth this wis- dom, and the man who getteth this understanding.
Finally, Let good men, however poor and illiterate, afflicted or despised, be comforted and animated by the thought, that they have made a wise and happy choice, and that their wisdom will ere long be confessed and re- warded in the view of the assembled universe. In the mean time let such highly favoured souls pity, and la- bour to reform an infatuated world. Let them endeavour to bring their sinful neighbours, and especially their be- loved children and friends, to that knowledge and fear of the Lord, m hich is the perfection of wisdom. Let thcni earnestly pray and hope for that blessed day, m hen the doctrine and spirit of the gospel shall impart true wis- dom, virtue, and joy to the whble family of mankind.
Sermon x.
On the Pleafures of Religion.
Prov. XXIV. 13, 14.
My so?t, eat thou honey, because it is good ; and the hon- eycomb, ivhich is sweet to thy taste : so shall the knowl- edge of wisdom be to thy soul, When thou hast found it, then there shall be a reward, and thy expectation shall not be cut off,
X HE main design of the Sacred Scriptures is to lead men to the kno\\ledge, Ioac, and practice of true piety and virtue, and thereby to ad\'ance them to the proper perfection and feUcity of their nature. This is eminent- ly the scope of the book of Proverbs, and of the ^vords just recited in particular ; in which the A\ise and inspir- ed Solomon most pathetically urges mankind, especial- ly the young, to the acquisition of wisdom, or true re- ligion, and enforces the exhortation by representing the sweetness and pleasantness of it. This he beautifully illustrates and recommends by the simile of hone}^ and the honeycomb, than Avhich nothing \vas sweeter o r more delightful to the taste ; and one of the principal excellencies of Canaan, that glory of all lands, was, tliat it flowed with milk and honey. By representing the pleasantness of religion, therefore, by this comparison, he intimates that the enjoyment of it will afford the high- est satisfaction and the most exquisite delight.
The text presents this important observation, that true religion is worthy of our earnest desire and pur- suit, not ofilv on account of its future and endless re-
Ser. X.] ON THE PLEASURES, Sec. 113
ward, but also for the sake of the pleasure and satisfac- tion, which immediately attend it.
Bv true religion, in this discourse, we intend, not the religion of the superstitious Pharisee, the sour bigot, or tl>e wild enthusiast ; but the rational, fervent, and practi- cal piety of the sincere Christian ; or such a just and impressive sense of the Deity, as suitably influences both the heart and the conduct ; as engages the subject to a cheerful and steady performance of the various du- ties, he owes to his Creator, to his Redeemer, to his fel- low-creatures, and to himself.
Now it is easy to show that religion, in this rational and scriptural \ie\v of it, is indeed sweeter than honey, or the honeycomb ; or that it is an immediate source of the most pure and exalted pleasures.
To pre-engage your attention to this proposition, let me observe, that there is no one artifice, by which the father of lies, the grand deceiver and destroyer of men, has more successfully promoted his cause, than by painting religion in a gloomy and forbidding attitude, and hereby prejudicing mankind, especially the young, against this apprehended dreadful foe to human comfort and de- light. And many of Satan's children have industriously laboured to strengthen this prejudice, by clothing relig- ion in the most disgusting and frightful dress ; by de- scribing it as a compound of vulgar superstition and priestly deception ; of needless sci'upularity and monk- ish austerity ; ^vhile some of its lionest but misjudging friends have unhappily contributed to the same preju- dice, by carrying into their religious sj^stem a rigid and morose, or a melancholy and desponding spirit.
The public teachers of religion, tlierefore, cannot do it more important service, than by \'indicating it from those false and injurious aspersions ; and holding it up in its native and attractive charms, as the soul of human
114 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X,
happiness. Let me then request the candid attention of all, and particularly oi- the youthful part OF this audience, while we attempt to illustrate the sweetness of religion.
In the first place ^ religion gives us the best enjoy- ment of our temporal blessings ; for it teaches, or in- cludes a right estimation, and the wisest improvement of them ; which is the directest \\ay to extract and en- joy their sweetness. It subdues that immoderate esti- mation of temporal good, which forever hinders the true enjoyment of it ; \\hich creates a feverish ardour, a tormenting impatience in pursuing it, a slavish anx- iety in possessing it, disappointment and loathing in the fruition, and vexatious uneasiness in the loss of it. Religious wisdom dictates a rational, calm, and temper- ate use of the bounties of Heaven. It enables us to en- joy them without satiety, and to possess them without anxiety ; to seek them without impatience, and to lose them without despair. It greatly enlarges the sphere, and improves the relish, of our common enjo}'ments ; for it keeps both body and mind in a right posture for them ; it elevates and crowns the pleasure, which they naturally afford, by bringing to tlie entertainment a sound, incorrupt mind, a thankful, contented, and cheer- ful heart ; a heart, which adores and enjoys God in all these streams of his beneficence. Thus it adds intellec- tual and spiritual to earthly joys, and gives a pure, senti- mental fruition of the most common objects and enjo} - ments.
What a rich flavour must this impart to all the bless- ings, ^vith w hich we are loaded ; to the Aarious s\\ eets of health and case, of food and raiment, of rest and se- curity ; to the satisfaction resulting from agreeable con- nexions, delicate friendship, peaceful habitations, pros- perous business ; to the pleasure, which we take in be-
Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. 115
holding the shining sun, the descending rain, the flow- ers of spring, the ripened stores of summer and au- tumn ! How is the dehght of all these unspeakably heightened, when we see them all streaming down to us from the overflowing goodness of a generous, affec- tionate Friend, who regards us with wonderful kind- ness, and to whom our hearts are supremely attached ! What sweetness must this infuse into our daily pleas- ures and our nightly slumbers. " Thou hast put gladness in my heart," says an ancient saint, " more, than in the time, when their corn and their wine increas- ed. I will both lay me down in peac^ and sleep ; for thou. Lord, only makest me to dwell in safety."
/// tJie second place, religion denies us no pleasure, but such as directly tends to sorrow. The gratilica- tions, which it prohibits, are either very sordid and pol- luting, or very dangerous and destructive. What we commonly call unlawful pleasures, are many of them enjoyments in themselves innocent and useful, but pro- cured by unwarrantable means, or enjoyed in a wrong manner ; that is, either obtained by injustice, or abused by intemperance. But certainly neither injustice, nor intemperance has any real pleasure annexed to it. On the contrary, unless a man have a very unnatural tem- per of mind and body, injustice must be painful to the former as M'ell, as intemperance to the latter. Those pleasures, then, w^hich men seek, and fancy they enjoy, under the banner of vice, may be equally found, yea enjoyed with great ad.vantage, under the standard and regulations of Christian virtue. And if religion forbids to her votaries drunkenness and uncleanness, falsehood and unrighteousness, envy and slander, malice and re- venge ; it is because these vices would deprive them of true pleasure, and subject them to constant pain, even w
•16 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X.
in this world as well, as incapacitate them for happi- ness, and ripen them for misery in the next.
In the third place^ as relif^ion forbids no real pleasure , GO it brings no peculiar trouble. In other words, no trouble is the proper and genuine effect of religion.
The love of God and our neiglibour, which is a com- pend of human duty, far from being the natural parent of sorrow, is the pleasantest disposition, of which the mind of man is capable. None will pretend that devo- tion toward God, or charity to men, tends to the injur}?^ of body, mind, or estate ; while sacrificing to worldly and fleshly idols has an inifavourable operation upon each. No man can pretend, that a genuine trust in Christ pro- duces such shameful and vexatious disappointments, as commonly flow from earthly and cai-nal dependencies ; or that Christian sobriety ever leads to diseases, dili- gence to poverty, humility to contention, or honesty to shame.
It is granted, that repentance of sin, \Ahich is an im- portant branch of Christian duty, carries ^\ ith it a de- gree of trouble and uneasiness. But this trouble is not the native fruit of duty, but of sin ; for had mankind continued in the perfect exercise of holiness, there would have been no occasion for repentance. Nor is this trouble peculiar to evangelical repentance ; for impenitent sinners have consciences, which frequently give them more exquisite anguish, than the^ deepest humiliation can pro- duce in a believing penitent. Faithless remorse was far more painful to Judas, than godly sorrow to Peter. Be- sides, there is a rational, a dignified pleasure in mourning for our unworthy treatment of so excellent a character, so generous a Friend, so kind a Father, as the blessed God. There is so much ingenuity and love, so iruich cheer- ing faith and hope in the divine mercy, in the exercises of gospel repentance, as render it on the ^\ hole equally
Ser. X.] OF RELIGION". 117
pleasant and salutary : and while the humble penitent is distressed with a sense of his own baseness, he is pro- portionably delighted with a view of the beauty and dig- nity of Jehovah, and comforted with an assurance of his forgiving love. Let us suppose two sinners on the bed of death, or two condemned criminals going to the place of execution. The one exercises a filial, evan- gelical repentance, a repentance springing from love, and enlivened by gospel faith and hope. The other feels all the pangs of conscious guilt, and all the terrors of his approaching fate, ' without any cordial affec- tion to that Being, whom he has offended, to that law, which he has violated, and to that Saviour, who offers him forgiveness ; and without any cheering confidence in the divine mercy, or a future happy immortality. I ask, which of these two kinds of sorrow is the most comfortable and soothing ? Is not the gloomy, despair- ing sorroAV of the last character a dreadful foretaste and beginning of damnation ? While the humble and pious repentance of the former is a sweet pledge of future for- oiveness and blessedness.
As to the duties oi self- denial ond mortification, which Christianity requires, the pain attending these is always the genuine offspring of sin. Nor is this peculiar to the religious character. For the wicked man is often obliged to deny, yea, to suppress one corruption in or- der to gratify another; his lusts and passions are so op- posite and contradictory, as render his soul a Babel of confusion. But Christian mortification strikes at the root of this e\ il, and gradually restores tlie mind to a regular, tranquil, and happy state.
With respect to siiff'ering for righteousness^ sake, to which religion may sometimes call us ; not to urge that such sufferings properly . originate, not from the Christian spirit, but from an opposite source, and will
118 ON THE PLEASURES ISek. X.
be overruled for the good of persecuted saints, and the advancement of the Christian cause ; I will only ob- serve, that the faithful soldier of Christ takes a gene- rous delight in suffering for so glorious a Master ; and triumphs in the thought, that every reproach, every pang, which he endures for Him here, will be a pearl, an orient diamond in his everlasting crown ; and, in the mean time, that his benevolent Leader will afford him succours and consolations, equal and far superior to his sufferings; for these are but human, while the com- forts are divine ; these, are but temporary, while the joy and glory are eternal. Which leads me to add,
/// the fourth place^ While religion brings no trouble, at least without an overbalance of delight, it introduces a new set of pleasures, peculiar to itself; pleasures for nobler, purer, and sweeter, than can arise from any oth- er source. As the soul is the proper seat of happiness, so the felicity of a rational spirit must be derived from spiritual and divine objects. Such objects religion pre- sents for our contemplation and enjoyment ; and at the same time disposes the mind for a right entertainment
of them.
In the first place, it rectifies and harmonizes the sev- eral powers of the soul. The intellectual, moral, and inferior faculties of wicked men are in a vitiated, discor- dant state, which creates a wild uproar in their breasts. But when true piety descends into the soul, it rectifies these disorders ; it clarifies and brightens the intellect ; reduces and regulates the rebellious will and affections ; it serenes, it sweetens all the inward powers, and dif- fuses over them the very dawn of heaven. Pure love row springs up and reigns in the heart ; divine contem- plation takes ample and bright surveys ; gentle meek- ness enjoys a humble delight ; faith leans securely upon the Rock of Ages, and hope with longing eyes beholds
Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. 1 19
and anticipates the pleasant regions, the full joys of im- mortality. What sources of godlike pleasure are these^ The soul now feels itself in a right, a health}^ and vig- orous state ; it can sensibly perceive the very image and life of God, in some measure, transfused through its whole constitution. This may seem a strong and bold expression ; but inspiration fully \\'arrants it, when it describes good men as " partakers of the divine na- ture," and " filled with all the fulness of God." What divine pleasure is wrapped up in the idea !
And, as the conscious possession of such a divine temper must be unspeakably pleasing, so must the ex- ercise of it in a series of good actions. It is as much the nature of holiness to be active, as of the sun to shine, of the flame to ascend, or ^ garden of pleasant spices to send forth a grateful perfume. Now acts of goodness must be delightful, so far at least, as a holy principle is the agent ; for such actions being exercises of a holy inclination or appetite, this appetite is grati- fied, and has a rich entertainment in the performance. Thus it is a noble pleasure to a benevolent heart to do good, and make others as happy as itself ; it is a pleasure to the compassionate soul tq relieve the wretched, and supply the children of want ; it is a pleasure to the pi- ous and devout soul to do the will, and promote tlie e-lory of God, and carry on a sacred intercourse with Him by meditation, prayer, and praise, and an attend- ance on all the institutions of his worship. In short, pleasure waits on every step of a religious life ; every virtue, and every act of each virtue, produces an iur stantaneous satisfaction ; nay, the civil and common ac- tions of the good man, being influenced and consecrat- ed by religious principles, are attended with some holy delie-ht.
120 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X.
This pleasure of doing well is an angelic satisfac- tion. The ministering spirits of God's court above fly with rapture to execute bis holy and benevolent or- ders. It v^as the meat and drink of our Saviour hun- self to do his Father's will, and finish his work. "I delight to do thy will, O my God," was his language at his first undertaking the mediatorial office. It is an infinite delight to the great Jehovah to do good ; that is, to act like himself. So good men find a degree of the same delight in the exercises of goodness. Thus wis- dom's " ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."
Farther, to these pleasures of action, religion adds tliose of knoivledgc and contemplation. Many philo- sophic geniuses have dcHghtfully spent }'^eai-s in con- templating merely natural truths ; in diving deep into the secrets of nature, in soaring aloft among the stars, and ranging the v/ide field of human science ; and when some new discoveries have opened to their minds, they seem to have been even ravished and transported. But human science is infinitely beneath divine wisdom. The Christian in contemplation rises to the Being of beings, to the great Original and Sum of truth, and surveys the perfections of nature's supreme Author and Director ; surveys the grandeur, power, holiness, goodness, and mercy of the Redeemer, who is the image of the invisi- ble God,, and who has, in his person, doctrine, and work, as it were, brought do\vn the Deity, and placed him before us, in a near, familiar, and most engaging light. How exalted the entertainment, which tiows from the view of such grand, interesting, saluttuy truths, as the Son of God has revealed ; truths, which pro- claim ** glory to God in the highest, and peace and good will to men ;" whicli hold up to the anxious, inquiring
Ser. X.l OF RELIGION. 121
mind, both the chief good of man, and the sure way to arrive at the enjoyment of it !
The true knowledge of these great objects is light and life to the soul ; our Saviour himself calls it *' life eternal." When the soul finds this, it obtains some- thing, in which it can securely and delightfully rest; something, which gives peace to the conscience, and satisfaction to the heart, and which continued will make one happy forever. Oh, what a transporting surprise seizes the mind, when it first savingly beholds the light of evangelical truth ! It finds itself in a new and beauti- ful world ! What other subjects of contemplation can yield a pleasure like this ! Here the object knowai is not trivial, uncertain, foreign, or uninteresting to us ; but dignified, certain, infinitely interesting, and com- pletely satisfying. And, if the knowledge of wisdom was sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, under the dark dispensation of the Old Testament, how much brighter and sweeter must it be to good men under the full blaze of gospel light.
And the pleasure ojf this contemplation will be height- ened in proportion to thier evidence of special interest in the objects and blessings contemplated. It must be dreadful to the thinking mind, while surveying the works and bless ijigs of nature and grace, to reflect, " The great Author of all these is not my God !" But what a blessed reflection to the pious soul, to say, witli comfortable assurance, " The mighty Lord of the world, who kindled up the sun and stars, poured forth the sea, and balanced the earth, who holds this stupen- dous universe in the hollow of his hand, and who is rearing up a new world of grace upon the basis of his own Son's death and resurrection ; this mighty and glo- rious Lord is my Father, and all the treasures of his kingdom, both of nature^ grace, and glory are mine.*'
122 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X,
It deserves a distinct mention, that it is a source of great pleasure to the pious Christian to behold the beau- ty, and enjoy the smiles of Christ, the Mediator.
Christ Jesus is a most wonderful, unparalleled per- son ; possessed at once of all the perfections of Deity, and all the engaging virtues of humanity ; infinitely more majestic than the angels, and yet the meek- est and most humble man, that ever appeared ; he is higher than our conceptions can reach, and yet has stooped beneath the grave, has stooped to receive into his embraces the meanest and worst of mankind. His person and qualities, his instructions and works, are all ■wonders, and an inexhaustible source of admiring, rap- turous entertainment to the contemplative Christian. This mysterious, glorious person is the believer's friend ; and what pleasure must arise from the united discoveries of his glories and his love !
To these pleasures of action and contemplation, the godly man can join those of reflection, and hereby en- joys the past as well, as the present. Though the time past is irrecoverably lost, considered as a part of dura- tion ; yet in a moral view it is not lost to the man, ^vho has filled it up with offices of piety and benevolence.
The past days and years of the slothful and irrelig- ious, as one observes, are worse than lost ; for they ha\ e no fiuit from them, and yet must account for them to their final Judge. Vice, which allured them with her deceitful charms, as she approached in a temptation, has quite another appearance, w-hen viewed behind, and frights them with her ghastly train. The guilt}' pleas- ures, to \A'hich they sacrificed their most valuable inter- ests and hopes, turn to gall and ^vormwood in the remembrance.
If there were any such art, as that of forgetfulness, the sinner many times \\ ould gladly learn it ; but be-
Ser. X.] GF RELIGION. 123
cause he cannot so easily blot things out of his memory ; he therefore endeavours to stifle his conscience, which he dreads as a mortal foe to his peace. But the pious man has no reason to regard conscience, as his enemy ; for it encourages him to continue in well doing, by giv- ing him a heartfelt reward for his past works of faith and love. Conscience anticipates the sentence of the last day, " Well done, good and faithful servant." In short, as reflection is one of the distinguishing faculties of man, so it may be rendered a source both of very great profit and pleasure. It is so to the diligent and fruitful Christian. "His yesterdays look backward with a smile." He has a pleasure in reflection, with which none of the pleasures of sin can compare ; a plea- sure, v.'hich he can repeat, \\ hen he will ; and the more valuable, in that while it springs from time past, it runs on into the future ; for,
I must add, religion gives its votaries the pleasures of hope ; a hope, vvdiose object and foundation are most ex- cellent and stable, for it has for its basis the immutable promises of God ; and its object is no less, than eternal life in the full fruition of his infinite beauty and love.
Hope is the great enlivener of the world ; the grand spring both of Imman activitj" and felicity. What then must be its efficacy, when it terminates on an infinite, everlasting good ; when it prelibates the substantial, elevated glories of immortality ! Wliat a tenfold value and sweetness does this hope impart to the Christian's present temporal and spiritual enjoyments! What vigour and fortitude must it inspire under the prospect or pressure of evils !
Finally, as religion heightens the pleasures and soothes the distresses of life, so it disarms the tenors, and sof- tens the agonies of death. There is something dread-
X
124 ON THE PLEASURES [Se:r. X.
fill in death, in tlie view both of nature and of con- science. But true religion, founded on Christian prin- ciples, inspires such sentiments and habits, such reflec- tions and prospects, as give peace and fortitude to the mind in the '^'iew and actual encounter of this last enemy. It begets such a firm confidence in the mercy of God, such a sweet assurance of his love, such a meek submis- sion to his Avill, such a holy contempt of this world, and such a relish and hope of tlie heavenly felicity, as ena- ble good men to meet death with steady composiuc, and sometimes with elevated, triumphant joy.
IMPROVEMENT.
Kow gi'oundless and pernicious is the idea of those, who \ iew religion as an unpleasant, or melancholy thing! What enemies to mankind as well, as to themselves, are those, \\ ho fight against the Christian system ; a sys- tem, which gives to religion its brightest, fairest form, and which equalh' befriends our present and our future felicity ! Its very restrictions and duties as well, as its en- couragements and benefits, are all benevolently adapted to our immediate advantage and comfort. Those, there- fore, who labour to sub\ert the Christian faith, or to weaken its influence, are cruelly endeavouring to rob us of our best friend, the only prop and solace of our existence !
Let us inquire whether we are possessed of religious wisdom, whether \\e have tasted the sweets of this di- vine food. If we ha\e, religion is to us a source of real pleasure : even now we prize it above all other dainties ; Me hunger and thirst after more ; we are tra\elling in w isdom's ways with growing acti^'ity and delight ; and we are using our influence in our social spheres to bring Others to share \\ith us in the divine entertainment.
Sinners are kit without any reasonable objection
Rer. X.5 of religion. 12^
against religion. Few, I hope in a land of light, will question, whether the state of the godly in a future world is better than that of the ^vickcd. Yet many- doubtless are prejudiced against it, on account of the present difficulties which attend it. But such prejudices arc entirely groundless. For the wise man, and by him the all-wise God, intimate, that the pleasure of religion, CAcn now, is like eating honey and the honeycomb. If then you refuse the ways of religion^ under the idea of their being unpleasant and toilsome, you give infinite wisdom and truth the lie. If you say or think, that the paths of holiness are full of gloomy melancholy, M'hich will sink and deaden your spirits, you impeach the divine \eracity, and you conti'adict and offend the generation of God's children. Will you object, that religion iviil be attended with shame ? What ! are you ashamed to eat the honey and the honeycomb, the repast of angels, the bread of heaven, because you may be ridiculed by some stupid or distempered creatures, who have no relish for such dainties ? Will you despise wisdom, which makes the face to shine, merely because fools hate knoM'ledge ? Or can you object, since wisdom is so excellent, against seeking it soon ?
Ho\v very great will be the final reward and happiness of the godly ! If the pleasures of religion are so sweet, even in this state of imperfection and trial, "what ^vill they be in the state of perfection and retribution ! In heaven the bliss of good men will be infinite, most ex- cellent in kind, and boundless in duration. How little reason have the righteous, then, to envy the prosperity of the wicked; or to repine under affliction, or to in- dulge an imeasy, disconsolate, or unthankful temper !
Let me close with an affectionate address.
Let me recommend this wisdom from above to yo^i, my fathers, who are grey with years, and bending to the
126 ON THE PLEASURES [Ser. X.
tomb. Your relish for the dehghts of sense, for the ac- tive scenes and gay amusements of Ufe is greatly im- paired and almost at an end. Oh, fly to the nobler plea- sures and hopes of religion, as the only substitute for these perishing joys. Make a seasonable retreat from the cares and gratifications of the vv'orld; let your last days be chiefi}' devoted to religious improvement, to a grow- ing preparation for heaven ; and be careful to leave your aged, dying advice to }^our children and the rising age, in favour of the SA\'eetness and excellence of religion ; "■ My son, eat thou honey, because it is good ; and the honeycomb, Aihich is sweet to thy taste ; so shall the knowledge of wisdom be to thy soul : When thou hast found it, then shall there be a reward, and thy expecta- tion shall not be cut oft". "
Let me next remind you, my brethren, who are in the meridian of life, that as yours is the very age of manly wisdom, it becomes you to shew your superior judg- ment by obeying the counsel of Solomon in the text. Remember, among all your busy cares and pursuits, tliat " the merchandise of wisdom is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold." If you acquire it, it will draw down the divine benediction on your -worldly pursuits, and give a tenfold value to your other gains and enjoyments. But if you neglect it, your greatest -worldly acquisitions will leave you destitute of true satisfaction in this life, and give a keen edge to your poverty and misery in the next.
As to you, children and youth, since every pulse, every sense calls loud for pleasure, let me entreat you to seek it in early religion. Noav, my young fi'icnds, is the seed time of life ; if you now sow to the spirit, you shall reap a proportional harvest, either in a life of solid, serene satis- faction here, or at least, in rivers of immortal pleasure; • hereafter. Religion, far from diminishing, will improve
Ser. X.] OF RELIGION. 127
all the charms and innocent dehghts of your sprightly age.
Finally, Let those \\ho are destitute of this wisdom, earnestly seek it. " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask it of God, that gi\'eth to all men liberally and up- braideth not ; and it shall be given him. Yea, if thou criest after knowledge, andliftestup thy voice for under- standing ; if thou seekest her ^.s silver, and searches! for her as for hidden treasures ; then slialt thou under- stand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God." And let those, who have it, feel and exhibit the pleasures of it, manifest a noble contempt of sensual and vicious delights, a cheerful resignation, when strip- ped of earthly comforts; and look, and long, and ripen for that world, where their graces and joys shall be ma- ture and perfect.
@)erm0n XL
The Want of a practical Regard to religious Truth, the Cause of dangerous specula- tive Errors.
2 Thessalonians ii. 10, 11, and 12.
Because they received not the lo've of the truths that they might be saved; for this cause God shall send them strong delusion^ that they should beliei^e a lie ; that they all might be damned^ who believed not the trut/i, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.
jL he apostle, in this chapter, predicts a grand aposta- sy in the Christian church ; which, from sniall begin- nings, should grow up to a monstrous lieight, so as to form an unparalleled system of religious t}'ranny, fraud, and corruption.
The description given of this apostate antichristian power, of its rise, its rule, its subjects, and its fall, so exactly and exclusively agree to the papal usurpation or the bishop of Rome, that little reasonable doubt can remain, thatMw power is "the man of sin," the " son of perdition," whom the spirit of prophesy here character- izes and devotes to destruction. The text describes the persons, who voluntarily submit to this corrupt pow- er, and shall perish \\ ith it. 'J'hey are such, as never cordially love the trudi, but had pleasure in unrighteous- ness; and hence were easily seduced from those sound doctrines, \\'hich they always secretly disliked, into such false principles as suited their depraved inclinations and practice. Hence God, by a righteous judicial act, gives them up to delusion and Vvickedness, and thus seals their landless destruction.
SER.XI.] THE CAUSE OF DANGEROUS ERRORS. 129
Though the words before us primarily refer to the wiHing subjects of antichrist, they will fairly admit of a much larger application, and may be reduced to the fol- lowing general proposition ; viz. that the want of a sincere practical regard to religious truth has both a nat- ural and moral tendency to lead men into the most dan- gerous speculative errors.
The great sin, for which the persons in the text are so severely condemned, is designated by their not re- ceiving the love of the truth. This designation applies, in a greater or less degree, to all, who profess or enjoy the Christian religion, but whose hearts are not re- conciled to its pure, self denying doctrines and laws. Their understandings, perhaps, are constrain- ed by evidence to admit these doctrines, as true ; but their wills and affections rise up against them, as severe, as inimical to their favourite pursuits and gratifications. Their haughty and sensual, their sordid or revengeful spirits disrelish and spurn a system of religion and mor- als, so holy and humble, so generous and forgiving, so meek and peaceable, as that of the gospel ; a system, which not only forbids and seeks to exterminate their dearest lusts, but threatens all the votaries of these idols with everlasting punishment. As the thief or midnight assassin abhors the light of day, not because light is in itself odious to him, but because he views it as menac- ing him with public detection and ignominious punish- ment ; so the sinner hates the light of gospel truth, because it exposes, and affixes disgrace and ruin to per- sons of his dark, iniquitous character. His enmity to religious truth is therefore rather consequential, than di- rect ; that is, he opposes it not as truth, but as a mortal foe to his comfort and security in a sinful course. There is such a natural correspondence between the human understanding and truth, that the mind of man
130 ON THE CAUSE [Ser.XL
cannot reject truth, or embrace falsehood as ,such. When therefore the text represents wicked men, as not receiving- the truth, and as believing a lie ; the meaning^ is, that the opposition of their wills and practice to the ])ure maxims of divine truth induces such disorder and blindness upon tlieir understandings, that they come to view religious objects in an inverted shape ; they view moral and evangelical truth under the odious garb, which belongs to falsehood, and a lie under the allur- ing aspect, which is proper to truth. Thus the infidel- ity of their hearts and lives at length gains over their judgment to its side, and produces a harmony between their inclinations and principles ; which brings us to point out more distinctly hov/ the want of a practical love to the truth natiu-ally leads to a speculative rejec- tion of it.
In the first place, it draws away the understanding fi-ojri a close attention to it, and thus hinders it from perceiA'ing its e\'idence, certainty, and importance. Deep, reiterated, and earnest inquiry after religious truth is necessary to a clear and unwavering reception of it. But those, who cherish corrupt afiections, which are a\'erse to the purity of divine truth, Avill, by natural consequence, turn away their thoughts from an object so unpleasing, to some more agreeable topic. They will not suffer theh' minds to dwell upon the evidence or reality of these things, which they heartily wish were neither e\'ident nor real. And when they ha\e thus expelled these unwelcome ideas, the contrary aiid more pleasing notions find an easy admittance into their nak- ed, unguarded understandings.
Secondly. A heart opposed to strict religion fills tlic mind vrith prejudice and partiality in all its inquiries* and reasonings upon it. A man of this description has really prejudged the cause ; has previously determined
See. XI.] DANGEROUS ERRORS. 131
to find the Christian doctrine to be either false or per- nicious, or at best a needless and contemptible systetn- The influence of corrupt prejudice to pervert and dark- en the mental eye is beautifully illustrated by our Sa- viour, when he says, *' If thine eye be single^ thy whole body shall be full of light," that is, nothing extraneous must cleave to the eye in the act of seeing ; it must be single, that is, pure, simple, unmixed, be left entirely to itself and its object; then thy ^vhole body will be full of light. But if the eye be obstructed either by some cov- ering, mote, disease, or injurious accident, the light is either shut out or obscured, and the object beheld in a very partial and erroneous manner. All this is easily applied to intellectual vision. Every act of sin, 'espec- ially the habitual love and practice of it, is a mote or disease in the eye of the mind. For instance, sensual affections and indulgences send up, if I may so speak, such gross, defiling vapours from the lower regions of the soul into the upper, as effectually obstruct a clear,, impartial view of spiritual truth. Agreeably, an inspir- ed prophet tells us, that whoredom and wine take away the heart; that is, they weaken and gradually destroy the intellectual and moral powers.
Covetous affections and pursuits have likewise a very blinding influence on the understanding ; insomuch that the most avaricious miser cannot see, cannot admit the conviction that he is covetous; the sordid vice, vv hich absorbs and devours him, and which strikes eve- ry spectator with contempt and abhorrence, appears to himself a necessary, useful, and perhaps virtuous habit ; and every measure, which coincides with his mercenary views, however fraudulent or oppressive, is beheld by him in a favourable light. In a word, there is perhaps no vicious passion, which confounds and infatuates the reasoning and judging faculty even of the greatest, y
132 THE CAUSE OF [Ser. XI.
and in other respects the best minds, so completely as this. Accordingly, we read that a gift or a bribe blind- eth the eyes of the wise, and perverteth the \\'ords of the righteous / yea, that a gift destroyeth the heart.
Pride and ambition Ivdvc likev^ ise a deceptive influ- ence upon the human understanding. As covetousness stupifies the mind by sinking it too low, so ambition dazzles it by raising it above itself.
I might enumerate many other cormpt affections and habits ; but the three just mentioned seem to be the most comprehensive and powerful, as corresponding to those three grand objects of the depraved heart, plea- sure, profit, and honour, \\ hich form a mighty threefold cord, by which the tempter draws the world along after him ; drav.s it in a manner so rapid and fascinating, as in some degree subverts the very understandings of his votaries ; so as to make them believe a lie, believe that they may, yea, ought to worship these idols as their gods, embrace and pursue them as their chief good, and sacrifice every thing to the enjoyment of them. No wonder then that the devotees of these idols disrelish, and gradually bring themselves to reject the pure, self- denying, and humbling truths of the gospel, which for- bid and condemn their fa\'ourite pursuits and enjoy- ments, and substitute some flattering scheme of false- hood in their place.
As a vicious heart and life are thus a natural and fruitful source of speculative error ; so they have a mor- al tendency to the same pernicious effect ; in other words, they often provoke God to give men up to fatal delusions. This is expressly asserted in the text, re- specting a particular description of sinners. But here a formidable objection lies in our way. It is asked, how God, who is light and truth in the abstract, can send darkness or delusion into the minds of his crca-
Ser.XI.1 dangerous errors. 133
tures ; how an effect, so impure and malignant, can pro- ceed from a cause, ■v\ hich is perfectly holy and good ? For the solution of this difficulty, I might introduce the general opinion of metaphysical Avriters respecting the nature of moral evil, as radically consisting in the priva- tion of good. On this principle we may easily explain in what sense God may be said to send delusion into the minds of men, consistently with his moral perfections.
He may do it, in the first place, by withdrawing from their understandings and hearts his enlightening and regulating influence. Both Scripture and reason prove, that the human soul, especially in its present weak and corrupted state, is constantly dependent on the concur- ring assistance of the first cause for the due exercise, and even the continued existence of its various powers. This being granted, how natural, how congruous to reason is it to suppose, that God, as a just punishment of the sinner's criminal neglect or perversion of his own intellectual and moral powers, ^vithdra^vs from these faculties his gracious assistance ; withholds that light from his understanding, and those restraints from his passions and will, which he has ungratefully resisted and forfeited, but \\ithout which he will immediately plunge still deeper into the darkness of error and guilt» It is easy to see that such a divine withdrawment is per- fectly righteous and holy on God's part ; for it is only leaving the sinner to his own chosen blindness and fol- ly. It is equally easy to see that the departure of God from this offending creature will be certainly followed with increasing delusion as well, as wickedness on the part of the sinner ! for his understanding is hereby left open and prepared for the greatest errors ; while the evil affections and prejudices of his heart are left to operate upon his perception and judgment withiniited, unrestrained force.
Further, God may be said to send men delusions, when he providentially orders out to them such circum-
134 THE CAUSE OF [Ser.XI.
stances, or presents to them such objects, as he knows will eventually, though not (efficiently or necessarily, lead them^ into dangerous error. The Bible is remark- able for directly ascribing to God every thing, which takes place in the course of his providence, even such events as imply or result from the greatest freedom and wickedness on the part of the immediate actors or sub- jects. Accordingly, when men, who have long practi- cally opposed the truth, are providentially cast among such books, companions, or teachers, as are exactly fitted to seduce persons of their loose inclinations and morals from strict religious principles into flattering and destructive errors, and when their seduction is in fact the consequence of such a combination of circumstan- ces ; both scripture and true philosophy authorise us to say, that God has sent strong delusion, and that herein he has acted with untainted purity and exemplary jus- tice, subjecting offenders to a punishment suited to their previous character, without violating their libert}' or participating in their criminality. In a manner similar to this, are we to understand the account given in Scrip- ture, of God's putting a lying spirit in the mouth of Ahab's prophets. The meaning of that figurative repre- sentation is, that when Ahab, by his idolatry and \^'ick- edness, had made himself fully ripe for destruction, God permitted, and in this way employed the lying spirit, which actuated the prophets of Baal to deceive him to his ruin. In like manner when Pharaoh had resolutely hardened his own hem-t, against the express, repeated command of Jehovah, enforced by evident miracles; God righteously permitted him to be confirmed in his delusion by the lying wonders of the magician as well, as left him to grow more obstinate in sin by means of those very dispensations, which ought to have been im- proved to an opposite purpose. Agreeably, one method
Ser.xij] dangerous errors. 135
in which God has sent delusion upon the subjects of antichrist, has been by permitting that apostate power to deceive its votaries by a false pretence and a specious im- itation of miracles ; v\hich ha\ e been no better than the impudent boast and juggling tricks of impostors, or at most the operations of Satan, judicially permitted by Hea\'en, to strengthen the delusion of those, who had pre\'iously and wickedly subjected their understandings and conduct to that system of falsehood and abomina- tion. Accordingly, in the verse preceding the text, the man of sin is described as appearing imth all power ^ and signs J and lying wonders^ and with all deceiveableness of unrighteousness. By providentially ordering, or permit- ting these wicked artifices to be successfully practised upon those, who were predisposed to yield to dieir influ- ence, God righteously gave them up to fatal delusion.
This judicial procedure of divine providence is here mentioned as a very dreadful dispensation. It will ap- pear to be so, if we consider that it not only immediateh'- affects the soul^ the vital part of man, the centre of his happiness or misery, but it strikes at this nobler part in its most distinguishing perfection, by subjecting its guiding faculty to delusion and blindness. Hereby the main office of the understanding and conscience is de- stroyed. The intellectual and judging faculty becomes a blind leader of the blind. The very light that is in us becomes darkness ! How great then must that darkness be ! A person in this situation is constantly exposed to stumble, yea, to fall into the foulest ditch, into tl .c most defiling and destructive enormities, and in the end, to fall into the pit of endless perdition. This is the final issue of error, sinfully cherished and retained. God shall send them delusion, that they all might be damned, who believed not the truth. The native and ultimate tenden- cy of every religious error is dangerous to the health
X36 THE CAUSE OF [Ser.XL
and life of the soul, and will actually produce fatal efiects, if suffered to exert and diffuse itself unchecked. Some errors are immediately destructive. Great mistakes in speculation, indeed, may be so counteracted in their in- fluence by strong habits and dispositions of goodness, as not to destroy tlie A'irtue and final happiness of their sub- jects ; while smaller eiTors, embraced by light or vicious minds, are in many instances eventually fatal, as they insensibly lead on to greater, and thus betray their soul into an inextricable labyrinth of 'delusion, irregularity and mischief ; the natural termination of a\ hich is irre- trievable, everlasting ruin. In re\ie\ving our subject, we are led to this important inference, that the only sure method to establish our faith in the truths of religion, is to cherish a cordial love and obedience to them. We have seen that the AAant of this practical regard to the truth is the main source of speculative unbelief and de- lusion. Would we then continue stcdfast in the infinite- ly momentous truths of Christianity, in this giddy, scep- tical, and licentious age? Let our affections and practice embrace and steadily adhere to these divine principles : let us supremely love and delight in them on at*count of their transcendent purity, let us cheerfully and steadily regulate our conduct by them. Let us rejoice with our whole hearts, that there is such a salvation, and such terms prescribed for the enjoyment of it, as the Bible reveals. If our affections and practice thus clca"\'e to the truth, our understanding and moral sense will natur- ally see more and more of its beauty, will be more can- did, diligent, and successful in their inquiries after it, and thus be led into more comprehensi\ c a lews, and a more full, stedfast, and impressive belief of it. God has like- wise promised and actually affords peculiar light and di- rection to such as sincerely love and practise religious truth. In a word, the specious arguments of stibtle ob-
ser.xi.] dangerous errors. 137
jectors against natural or revealed religion derive their greatest charm and seductive influence upon mankind, from their own corruptions, from their secret willing- ness to be deceived. A heart and life, therefore, truly pious and good, would be the shortest and most satisfac- tory method of answering all these objections ; this w ould give us an experimental, and delightful, and im- moveable assurance of the truth and excellence of relie;- ion. Further, our subject enables us to account, in an easy and satisfying manner, for the principal errors, both in opinion and practice, which have prevailed in the world. For example, we plainly perceive the main root of modern infidelity and atheism. The leading doctrines of natural and re\'ealed relis-ion are so necessa- ry and suitable, so beneficial and comforting to a crea- ture, so framed, circumstanced, and related as man, that every good and considerate mind must at least wish to find them true, and accordingly must carefully attend and readily yield to the abundant evidence by which they are confirmed. The disbelief of these principles, therefore, especially in enlightened protestant countries, must in general be traced to a depraved heart or profli- gate life, which leads them first to dread and hate, and at length to renounce those truths, which stand in the way of their favourite propensities. The same account may be given of the errors of Popery, which have so long and so extensively prevailed in the world, and to which our text immediately refers. It seems very strange at first view, that creatures, enlightened at once 1)}^ reason and revelation, should be capable of believing such an assemblage of absurdities and lies, as the Rom- ish religion contains. But when we consider how ex- actly that system falls in with the corrupt inclinations of the human heart ; how admirably it gratifies the a\'arice and ambition of dieir priests, especially in hidier orders.
138 THE CAUSE OF [Ser. XL
by giving them the command both of the purses and con- sciences of the people ; and how entirely it suits and flat- ters the licentious appetites and passions o f mankind at large, by allowing them every vicious indulgence here, and yet assuring them, on very easy conditions, of final absolution and blessedness, we may readily see the rea- son why so gi-eat a pait of the \^orld, especially in the dai'k ages, were induced to believe and hold fast so pleasing a delusion. At the same time we doubt not that many individuals in popish countries, of the best hearts and morals, have b}' the force of education and example, and the want of better means of information, been led to believe and to sacredly observe the peculiiu--^ ities of that apostate church. We might easily account, in a similar manner, for the prevalence of certain dan- gerous errors in the Protestant world. For instance, how gratifying must-it be to those, who are devoted to vicious pleasures and pursuits, and who have long prac- tically defied the threatenings of future punishment, how gratifying to such persons to hear that these threatenings ^\ ill never be executed, that they have already spent their force upon Jesus Christ, as the head and surety of mankind ; inconsequence of which the most aban- doned sinners are placed on as fair ground, and have the same unconditional promise of everlasting life, with the most exemplary saints. How pleasing to proud and carnal hypocrites is the doctrine, which teaches them to regard certain transient internal feelings, joined with an orthodox belief, as a sure evidence of sa\ing faith, con- version, Jind fellowship ^\ ith God ; M'hile they are led to view a life of strict virtue and IkjUucss as a comparative- ly low and needless attainment ? How pleasing also to the depraved heart is the opposite idea, that exterior ci- vility, morality, or devotion, without a corresponding sanctified temper of mind, will recommend us to die
Ser. XL] THE CAUSE OF DANGEROUS ERRORS. 139
final acceptance of Heaven ! These and similar schemes of religious falsehood naturally engage the approbation and warm attachment of those, who hate strict practical godliness, because they lend eftcctual aid to that great effort of our degenerate nature, which aims to reconcile conscience and lust, or the hope of future happiness A^ith the present indulgence of sin. On the whole, it ^vould be eas}' to show, if time permitted, that all the fashionable errors of the present day are the natural growth as well, as just punishment of its licentious taste and manners. Let us then be humble under a sense of those sottish and dreadful delusions, at which human na- ture is capable of arriving ; let us bless that divine good- ness, which has preserved us so far from these evils ; let us constantly watch and pray against them, let us beware of that giddy spirit, those itching ears, that ex- treme liberality and freedom of inquiry, which have ensnared so many ; let us prize and search the Scrip- ture, receive its truths into an honest, unbiassed heart, and practise them in a holy, obedient life : this only will keep us stedfast to the end.
Sermon xii.
Naaman the Leper,
2 Kings v. 10 — 14.
And Elisha sent a messenger unto hlm^ saying y Go and wash in Jordan seijen times ^ and thy fiesh shall come again to thee^ and thou shah be clean. But Naaman vjas ivroth, ami went aivay^ and said. Behold, I thought, lie will surely co7ne out to me, and stand, atid call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his handover the place, and recover the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel ? May I not wash in them and be clean ? So he turned and went away in a rage. And his servant came near, and spake laito him, a7id saidy My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wonkiest thou not have done it ? How much rather then, when he saith unto thee, wash and be clean ? Then went he down aiid dipped himself seven times in Jor- dan, according to the saying of the man of God ; and his flesh came again like tlie flesh of a little child, and he was clean.
X HIS ehapter, with a beautiful simplicity peculiar to the sacred \\'ritino;s, relates the story of Naaman the leper. As this man was a favourite of the king of Syria, and possessed high rank and authority under him ; his master hearing that there was a prophet in the land of Israel, by ^\•hom leprosies were cured, sent Naaman thither to be healed. Accordingly this great General ha\'ing pre- sented himself in his chariot at the door of Elisha's liouse, the prophet sent out a messenger to him, dii-ect-
Ser. XII.] N A AM AN THE LEPER. Ul
ing him to wash seven times in Jordan, and assuring hira in this way of irftm^diate recovery ! But this mode of proceeding not suitmg the pride and preconcei\'ed no- tions of Naaman, he spurne d the message, and rode away from the house in great indignation. But the ser- vants, \v'ho attended him, more ^^ise in this instance than their master, respectfully expostulated Avith him on the impropriety of rejecting so simple and easy a prescrip- tion. Naaman, not possessing that foolish haughtiness, which disdains tlie wholesome advice of an inferior, was -persuaded to follow the prophet^s directions. The con- sequence Avas his perfect recovery.
The proud spirit and reasonings, which at first led -this man to reject the message o-f Elisha, influence ma- ny at this day to oppose religion, especially the doctrines ■and prescriptions of the gospel ; while his ultimate obe- -dience to the prophet and its salutary eftect fitly repre- sent the wisdom and happiness of those, who, in spite of their conceited, but perverted reason, and preconceived prejudices, submit to the merciful directions of Cluis- tianity.
If we trace the spirit and r-easonings of modern athe* ists and infidels, we find them strikingly correspondent with those of Naaman in die text. What leads many proud philosophists to reject tlie common belief of a -God, or of a great first cause, possessing infinite wis- dom and goodness '? It is this ; tliey first determine in their own minds what plan of conduct ought to be pursu- ed by a Being perfecdy wise, just, and benevolent. By this standard of ideal perfection they try the works of na- ture and providence ; and finding many appearances in both falling short of this standard, and directly condemn- ed by it, they conclude that perfect intelligence and goodness have either no existence, or no concern in the formation and government gf the world, or that their in-
142 NAAMAN THE LEPER. [Ser. XII.
finer ce is defeated by some malignant principle of equal or superior force. Thus all religion is laid prostrate by human \anity, assuming the right of dictating to infinite ^visdom. But how preposterous is this ! We all con- demn the proud folly of the Syrian Captain in determin- ing beforehand the manner, A^hich the prophet of Jehovah ought to observe in curing his leprosy, and in refusing the important blessing oflered him, because the mode of con^^eying it did not ans\\er to his previous exjiectutions. And is not that pride still more foolish and presimnptuous, which settles beforehand a system of operation for the Deity ; \v hich decides by abstract hu- man reasoning how he ought to have made and to govern the universe ; and Avhich concludes that there is no God, or no perfect moral go\ ernor, and so no sure foundation for piety and virtue, merel}' because a few detached ap- pearances do not accord \\ ith its own blind but boasted theory ? Shall the insect, w hose sphere of vision is bound- ed by a circumference of one or two inches, lay out the plan of a magnificent palace, or censure the skill of the ai'chitect on account of some apparent speck or rough- ness in that part of the building, w hich he is able to sur- vey ? Yet the greatest human or even created mind is far less than such an insect, when compared with the infinite Being, or A\'ith the immensity of his works and designs. In short, \^-e are wholly incompetent to de- cide, by mere speculation, A\hat kind of a world, or ^\hat scheme of administration was most worthy of boundless intelligence and goodness.
We may indeed reasonably conclude, that the pro- duction of the greatest sum of virtue and happiness must have been intended by an all perfect Creator ; but what means would be necessary and best fitted to this- end, can be known to us only by fact and experience. Now experience and analogy teach us that many things,
Ser. XII.] N A AM AN THE LEPER. 143
which at first \dew seem most repugnant to the order, beauty, and happiness of the S3'stem, are on the vviiole conducive to each ; that the most disagreeable things in nature and providence are the result of good genercil laws, and in many instances produce the most salutary effects ; that so far as our observation reaches, the con- stitution of the world aifords numberless proofs of wise and benevolent design, of a holy and righteous admin- istration, of a prevailing tendency to happiness ; and finally that the great mixture of evil in this part of the creation contributes in various respects to the increase of virtue and felicity, and is probably a branch of one comprehensive scheme, \\ hich embraces the uni\^erse, and eternity, and which will eventually produce tlie greatest quantit}- of good. Influenced by these sober sentiments, let us submit our vain imaginations to the test of experience. Like the Syrian leper, let us be per- suaded honestly to tr}^ \vhether the Avaters of Jordan be not better than the fancied streams of Abana and Phar- par. Let us faithfully use the means of safety and happi- ness, which are actually afforded, before we ventu.re to despise them, or to imagine that other and better re- sources ought to have been provided.
But this brings us to the main object of this discourse, viz. to apply the text to the subject of re'uealed religion. Many persons profess themselves friends to the religion of nature, while they spurn the gospel of Christ ; they erect the former on the ruins of the latter, just as Naaman magnified the ri\'ers of his own country at the expense of those in the land of Israel. But their rea- sonings against revelation are at best uncertain, abstract speculations, which m ill not stand the trial of fact and experience. When these objectors extol the sufficien- cy of natural light, m'c can appeal to tlie actual state of the whole heathen world, both ancient and modern, for a
144 NAAMAN THE LEPER. [Ser. XII.
confutation of their pretence. Besides, if the law of na- ture were ever so plain and perfect, what would this avail to imperfect, depraved, and obnoxious offenders ? Can a perfect law pardon and justify its guilt}^ violators ? Can it cure the moral leprosy they have contracted ? Can it ease their wounded consciences, and restore them to the assured fevour of their offended Creator ? Does it become persons in this situation to despise that divine Prophet, Avho offers to heal them ? Does it become them to reject that hea\'enly instruction and assistance, forgiveness and consolation, m hich he only can bestow ? Will such objectors say that they are not satisfied \^■ith the credentials of this divine Messenger ? That the miracles alleged in proof of his mission are romantic and incredible tales ? But if sinful men needed an extraordinary instructor, it was equally necessary that the mission and doctrine of such a teacher should be confirmed by extraordinary or miraculous proof. His miracles therefore were equally important and credible with his merciful instructions.
Will they say that some of his doctrines are absurd, unintelligible, or useless ? But perhaps the doctrines in question appear absurd merely because they contradict and condemn the pride, the prejudices, or the corrupt dispositions of the objectors. Those, who love darkness rather than light, who set up their own wisdom or lusts as their supreme rule, will naturally dislike those truths, which cross and mortify themselves. What is there re- ally absurd in the gospi^ doctrine of redemption ? W^as it unworthy of inilnitc benevolence to send a person of superior, of divine dignit_v, to enlighten an ignorant, to atone for a guilt}-, to sanctify and console a dejiraved and miscrab!,e world , especially Avhen all other expedi- ents for its recovery had been long tried in vain ? Does it become sinners, redeemed at such a price, to find fault with that mysterious love, to ^yhich they are so much
Ser. XII.] NAAMAN the leper. 145
indebted, or to refuse its offered blessings, merely be- cause they cannot comprehend all the reasons on which it proceeds, or tlie precise manner, in which its infinite benefits arc conveyed ? Are not the reasons and the mode of divine operation in the works of nature and pro\'idcnce equally unsearchable ? Do not many of the common proceedings of the Most High equally ti-ans- cend our conceptions, and confound all our previous cal- culations ■? Does not analogy therefore lead us to expect similar and even greater wonders in the extraordinary dispensations of his grace ? Besides, though we cannot fully comprehend the divine conduct, or those doctrines, which relate to it ; yet we may know enough of these truths to regulate our own practice. By diligent and pmyerful contemplation we may obtain that knowledge of God and the Mediator, and of the revealed method of salvation, which may effectually guide and animate us to the correspondent duties of pious gratitude and reverence, faith and confidence, imitation and obedience. If we cannot understand all the reasons of God's ap- pointments, yet the appointments themselves are suffi- ciently obvious, and are recommended to our observ- ance by the strongest motives. The prescriptions of the gospel are very plain and decided ; " wash and be clean;" " believe and be saved;" " repent and be for- given ;" " ask and receive." Was it foolish and base in the Syrian leper to spurn the plain direction of Elisha, because he could not see why or how the waters of Jor- dan could be more medicinal than any other ? And is it not far more absurd and criminal for sinners, on a like pretence, to reject the equally evident precepts of Chris- tianity ? Suppose we could see no fitness in the estab- lished connexion between repentance and forj^iveness, between faith and salvation ; yet to argue merely from ^ur ignorance that this establishment is ai'bitrary, absurd,
I4G NAAMAN THE LEPER. [Ser. XIL
or incredible, would be infinite folly and pi-esumption. For though it is very fit and pious to inquire Avith mod- est reverence into the ends and reasons of God's dis- pensations and requirements ; }"et to set up our igno- rance against his manifest authority and wisdom, is the extreme of madness and impiety. Besides, we can see cin c\'ident fitness in the \'ery nature of the gospel pre- scriptions. W'hat can be more reasonable than that a rebel should repent, that is, cease to be a rebel, before he is pardoned ? And since the repentance of the indi- vidual, however sincere, cannot repair the public injury and dishonour occasioned by disobedience ; how suita- ble is it that the humble penitent should believe^ that is, heartily acquiesce and confide in that Mediator and atonement, which his offended but merciful Sovereign has appointed ? How suitable, how necessary is that vi- tal gospel faith, A\hich opens the heart to the influence of those truths, which alone can enlighten and comfort, purify and exalt it ? How reasonable is it that the repent- ing and paidoned believer should henceforth live, not to himself, but to the honour of his forgiving God and compassionate Redeemer ! It appears then that the pe- culiar precepts of our religion are in their own nature morally fit and binding, as well, as enjoined by infinite authority. They are not oply plainly prescribed by God, but directly and essentially conduciseto the moral recoA'ery and happiness of man.
The same obserA-ations v\ ill in a great measure apply to the posithe institiil'mns of Christianity. These are manifestly necessary both to express and promote those in'.crnal and moral exercises, which we have just recom- mended. The}' are necessary to keep alive in our memories and hearts the great facts and doctrines of our religion, and thus to prcser\c their genuine practical influence on our temper and conduct. In this ^iew the
Ser. XII.] NAAMAN THE LEPER. I47
appointment of a Christian Sabbath and priesthood, of a visible church and public worship, of gospel baptism and the Lord's supper, is evidently founded in wisdom and goodness. Each of these ordinances is admirably fitted to secure and advance the great interests of piety and vir- tue. If the observance of outward ceremonies, as memorials or seals of great transactions and events, be recommended by the wisdom and experience of all na- tions and ages ; if it be proper and beneficial to our own country to celebrate the anniversary of her independ- ence ; it must surely be more wise and useful for Chris- tians to commemorate their dying and risen Redeemer by observing that day and those ordinances, which are sacred to his memory, and which remind them of their gi-eat duties to him and one another. Those persons therefore discover, not a truly philosophic and enlarged, but a vain and ignorant mind, who despise these Chris- tian institutions ; who proudly demand, what sense or advantage is there in separating a seventh portion of our time from worldly to sacred uses ; in employing so ma- ny hours in attending public worship and instruction ; in eating bread and drinking wine at the sacramental ta- ble ; or in pouring water on the face of an unconscious infant ? It would be a sufficient answer to these questions to say, that the divine Founder of our religion has seen fit to establish these ceremonies, as tokens of our faith and obedience, and the ordinary channels and seals of his spiritual blessing. And shall we refuse such easy methods of expressing our regard to him, and of draw- ing down his saving benediction on us ? If, as the ser- vants of Naaman reason with their master, if our divine Lord had bidden us do some great thing, ought we not gladly to have done it ? If he had enjoined upon us services as burdensome and costly as those of the ancient A a
148 NAAMAN THE LEPP:R. [Ser. XIL
Jews ; ought we not cheeifully to perform them, as a grateful return for his costly love, and as the mean of enjoying his infinite benefits ? How much more then, when he only bids us observe a few simple and expres- si\'c rites, which directly tend to our edification and com- foit^as well as to his honour ?
iliis train of tliought may be equally applied to all the means of religion. In the case before us as well, as in other particulars, there is a beautiful analogy between the world of nature and that of grace. In both God accom- plishes his ends by the instrumentality of means. In both his blessing is connected with our prudent and dutiful exertions. As his providence supports our nat- ural lives only in the use of our own activity ; so his rrace ordinarily quickens and saves our souls only in the way of our serious and prayerful diligence. Though God could have cured the Syrian leper Avithout his washing in Jordan, and though he could, if he saw fit, purify us from sin without the application of means, vet the cure of the former was wisely connected with his obedience to a certain prescription ; and our spir- itual renovation and final salvation are with equal wis- dom connected with an earnest attendance on the means of gi-ace. By this process God proclaims his sove- reignty a!id our duty. While he teaches us to depend on him for all spiritual blessings, he obliges us to seek them in his own way, and in the best use of those fac- ilities and privileges, w^hich he has given us. We grant that the prayers and endeavours of unrenewed sinners, however solemn and zealous, are not truly holy ; nor can they of themselves produce a sanctified heart, or justly claim this blessing from God. Yet that merciful Being, W'ho hears the cry of the ravens, and who honour- ed his own appointment in the case of this leper, by mak- ing it effectual tu his recovery, may equally bless his
SiEK. XII.3 NAAMAN THE LEPER. 149
own means to the saving good of those, \\ho seriously 4ittend them. Let none then be induced to neglect or despise these means under a false idea of exahiiig or trusting in mere sovereign gTace. We do not really honour, but tempt and insult the Almighty, when we ex- pect his blessing in any other wziv, than he himself has v.arranted. If the diseased Syrian acted \\ isely in try- ing the method of cure proposed by a prophet of Isra- el, with whom he had no previous acquaintance ; how- much greater encouragement have ^\e to try the pre- scriptions of the gospel ; we, \a ho know that these direc- tions come from God, that they have proved effectual to all who have sincerely follo\\ed them, that the ob- servance of them will afford present as \A-ell, as endless felicitv, and that inattention or disobedience to them will render our disease incurable, and consign us to ew crlasting perdition ! What ^vords or imagination can de- scribe the wisdom of embracing, and the madness of re- jecting these merciful proposals ! May Almighty grace deeply impress these ideas on our hearts !
I cannot willingly close without distinctly remark- ing the happy and glorious effects, which in the instance before us grew out of a few small and unpromising cir- cumstances. A little Hebrew maid in Naaman's fami- 1\' informs him of a prophet in the hostile land of Israel, who could cure his inveterate disease. He traA^els into this country with a retinue of ser\-ants. These servants, by intei-posing at a critical moment as humble counsel- lors, were the occasion of his cure. This miraculous cure of his body reclaimed his mind from its former idolatry to the belief and worship of Jehovah, the God of Israel. This conversion of a high officer in Syria, and its visible fruits had probably some happy influence on his idolatrous countrymen, particularly on his own family, especially on those fliithful attendants, to whom
150 NAAMAN THE LEPfiR. [StJi. XII.
he had been so highly indebted. Thus a number of little incidents, like a few scattered seeds, may spring up into a copious harvest, and the conversion of one sinner may spread out into the reformation of a multi- tude. Thus too the disease of the body, or some out- ward calamity, may and often does, like Naaman's lep- rosy, prove the first step to the salvation of the soul.
In these and many other particulars, how wonderful, how glorious are the 'ways of Providence! What im- portant lessons do they teach us ! They instruct us not to despise, but to regard with a degree of reverence the meanest persons and the slightest events ; since these may be the destined instruments of the greatest, yea of infinite good. They teach us to support \a ith resignation, fortitude, and even thankfulness the most perplexing and afflictive circumstances ; since these may eventual- ly prove or occasion the most valuable and permanent benefits.
They instruct persons of superior station or talents to receive with calmness, condescension, and gratitude good counsel or information, even when offered by ser- vants or inferiors ; since they may, at least in some in- stances, possess more reason and virtue than themselves.
Finally, when we behold the Supreme Ruler accom- plishing the most important ends by means apparently the most trivial and inadequate, yea, educing future and eter- nal good from present evil ; how fervently should we echo, the pious exclamation of the apostle — "O the depths of the riches both of the Axisdom and kno^v ledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out ! For who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor ? For of him, and through him, and to him are all things ; to him be glory forever. Amen."
©ermon xiii.
On the Love of the World.
1 John ii. 15.
Lonie not the tvorld^ neither the things that are in the •morld. If any man loije the ijoorld, the loiie of the Far- ther is not in him.
W
HAT a dreadful sound do these words conve}' to the ears of those, whose affections and pursuits are wrapped up in sensible objects ! By the world and the things of it we are to understand this earth, or the pres- ent scene of human existence, with the various materials for activity and enjoyment, which are furnished by it, and terminate in it. By loving the world and its con- tents cannot be meant every l^ind and degree of earthly attachment : for the Author of nature has planted in the human constitution such a variety of affections and appetites, and surrounded us with so many objects, harmoniously adapted to these affections ; that some degree of love to these objects is at once natural and una\'oidable, becoming and beautiful : without it, we could neither discharge the essential duties, nor enjoy the valuable comforts of the present state. Besides, the world, considered as the production of Deity, and as destined by Him for the accommodation and entertain- ment of man, justly claims our grateful and admiring affection ; which affection, far from excluding or abating, directly cherishes and improves our pious sentiments and acknowledgments to the glorious and beneficent Creator.
152 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII.
When therefore Christianity requires us to renounce the world, the idea is, that the \\'orid, considered as perverted by human apostasy, as nourishing and inflam- ing our corrupt affections, or, in other words, an earthly and sensual life, conducted upon the maxims of world- ly and depraved men, is forbidden, as incompatible 'W'ith that spiritual and heavenly life, to which we are called by the gospel. Agreeably, the verse following the text explains the prohibited objects of attachment by voluptuousness, avarice, and ^^orldly ambition. In short, our love to any earthly good falls within the description of the apostle, when it habitually exceeds itis proper limits, or usurps the empire of our heaits. f
It therefore becomes a very intei-^sting inquir}-, fF/ieJi our love to the world may be styled inordinate, or be said to form our ruling affection. After wt have satis- fied this inquiry, we will endeavour to show, that such a worldly temper is incompatible with the character and hopes of a real Christian.
I. When may our earthly affections be called im- moderate, so as to reach the sense of the text? We ansvv'er,
First. When the world, or any object in it engrosses our tJwughts in a degree, vvhich excludes serious re- flection or pious meditation ; our lo^^c to it becomes un- suitable and idolatrous. Certainly the infinite God, who gave us the faculty of thought, is the most worthy ob- ject of its exercises. The contemplation of his perfec- tions, works, and revealed will, is the most noble, mo- mentous, and perfecti\'e employment of our rational na- tures. Serious and earnest consideitition of spiritual and divine subjects is likcAvise the first step to true conversion from sin to holiness as "well, as a principal mean and evidence of continued, progressive piety in the human heart. When a person therefore has hi'-.
Ser.XIII.] of the world. * 153
thoughts so immersed in worldly business or pleasures, that religious ideas find a very rare and unwelcome ad- mittance ; ^\■hen he industriously shifts off* these ideas to some more convenient season ; when he contents him- self with giving a few spiritless and broken thoughts to God and leligion upon one day in seven, or at the seasons of his morning and evening devotion, as a kind of compensation for sacrificing all the rest of his time to some earthly idol ; in short, when the world is his con- stant associate, the last companion of his thoughts, when he begins to sleep, and the first, when he awakes; these are sure symptoms of predominant worldly affections': for as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. If a man then thinks of the world with the greatest frequency, freedom, and dehght, he is certainly a worldly character.
Secondly. When the things of the world engross our whole conversation, it is an evidence of the same truth. Man is so formed, that the ruling dispositions of his heart will give their own complexion to his social inter- course. If then we have no taste for any society or conversation, but that Avhich savours of the world ; if we scarce ever mention the name of God or the Redeemer, or introduce any religious subject in our daily converse, except it be in a light, or cavilling, in a profane, or at best disputatious manner ; we give, at least, probal:)le evidence, that we love the world more than God.
Thirdly. Our attachment to the world is immoderate, if we are unwilling to part with it upon proper occasions, or to give it up to the divine disposal. If we are back- ward to improve that portion of it with which God en- trusts us, in a manner agreeable to his pleasure and honour ; if we take more delight in hoarding large and useless treasures, or in sacrificing them to unbounded vanity and luxurj^, than in supplying and comforting the children of want and distress, or in serving God, the
154 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII.
church, and commonwealth, by acts of generous and pious munificence ; if it is a burden to us to support the gospel, and ministers of Christ, or the necessary civ- il government of our country; in short, if we do not leadiiy seize, and even rejoice in every opportunity of doing good with our substaiice ; we make it manifest tiiat we love a little w^orldly interest above God, Christ, our neighbour, our country, yea our own everlasting happiness. The same observation will apply to those, who cannot willingly resign their estates, their honours, their friends, their earthly all, when divine Providence calls for such a sacrifice; who cannot comparatively hate and despise even the most excellent and beloved creatures, when set in competition with the will and the friendship of the Creator ; but whose murmuring or de- sponding sentiments, when stripped of their earthly treas- ures or comforts, evidently speak this language ; " Yc have taken away my gods, and \\hat have I more?"
Fourthly. Discontentment with our portion of the world proclaims a criminal love to it. If we secretly repine, because we are not blessed with every earthly conveni- ence, elegance, and delight, which some others possess ; if we are not entirely willing, that God should govern his own world, and distribute his own favours, as he pleas- es ; it proves that we pay that homage to the world, v^hich belongs only to its infinite Maker and Sovereign. If we loved God above all, we should be content and satisfied with Kim, with his will, his fulness, and his love. We should feel rich and happy in such a Friend and Portion, however poor and low in worldly respects. If then the mere want of worldly affluence dirows us into an uiidutiful or peevish frame towards the Most High, or produces envious feelings towards our more prosperous neighbour ; we certainly set the world in God's place.
Ser. XIII.] OF THE WORLD. 155
The same remark may be made upon those, who al- low themselves in a distrustful anxiety respecting their temporal concerns ; whose imagination is continually foreboding some distressing or fatal accident to their possessions and enjoyments, to their cliildren, or other agreeable connexions. Such anxiety about any world- ly interest or comfort, as unfits us for duty, for society, for a thankful and cheerful use of the blessings of Prov- idence, betrays an unwarrantable affection to the world; for, if we loved it within proper limits, we should resign the comforts of it to the disposal of our heavenly Father. While we exercised a provident and industrious care re- specting our temporal conceals, this prudent attention would be qualified by a filial acquiescence and confi- dence in tlie governing wisdom and good pleasure of God. V/e discover a criminal attachment to worldly good, when we pursue it with greater zeal, and enjoy it with higher relish and transport, than we do the service and favour of God, or the sublime pleasures and hopes of religion. We always manifest the greatest eagerness for, and delight in those objects, which stand highest in our affection. The zeal and pleasure, with which we serve our friends, or seek and enjoy their society, are proportioned to the place, which they hold in our hearts. If then we feel greater ardour and delight in religious services and entertainments, than in any other, it is a proof that the objects of religion are supreme in our af- fections. But if we have little or no relish for devotion- al exercises ; if the private and public worship of God be to us a barren, insipid, and burdensome ceremony ; if, while our bodies are engaged in it, our thoughts and de- sires are roving to the ends of the earth ; we prove our- selves utter strangers to the love of God. If we can readily, and excessively mourn any temporal loss or s b
156 ON THE LOVE [Ser. Xlir
calamity, but feci no emotions of grief under the con- sciousness of spiritual evils, under the privation of the sensible presence and fellowship of our Maker ; we exhibit clear proof, that we value the world far more than the fa^'Our of God.
■ Sixthly. If we pride ourselves in earthly distinctions, we rhanifest the supremacy of worldly affection. If wc expect great deference, and resent the least contradiction from others, merely because we are raised above them in earthly riches and honour ; it is plain we overrate these trifling, adventitious things, in a very puerile and sinful manner. Our fondness for these splendid bau- bles clothes them, in our esteem, with a thousand imag- inary excellencies. It gives them a kind of magical charm, by which their possessor, though destitute, it may be, of every recommending accomplishment both of head and heart, is at once transformed into a sensible, noble, mer- itorious character, and on this ground challenges impli- cit submission, and admiration from those, to whom fortune has been less propitious, though possessing per- haps a thousand times more personal dignity.
Sevenihh\ Our love to the world is inordinate, when ^►'•eseek to acquire or retain it in a wrong manner, or by unwarrantable means. For example, if we kwp over tlie boimd of strict truth or justice in our worldly deal- ings; if we artfully evade, or openly violate the impar- tial rule of equity, prescribed by our Saviour ; if we take advantage of the ignorance, the credulity, the confi- dence, or necessity of others ; if we go into schemes of speculation or enterprise, which have for their motive an unbounded desire of wealth, or whose manifest ob- ject . or tendency is to procure a sudden accession of wealth to ourselves, to the immediate or ultimate injury either of the public at large, or of many worthy families
Ser. XIII. 3 OF THE WORLD. 157
and individuals ; if we engage either in some unlawful occupation, or in such a multiplicity of worldly busi- ness, as shuts out the duties of piety and charity ; if we deliberately plunge oursehes into debts, which we have no reaFonable prospect of discharging, or enter into engagements, the fulfihiicnt of ^^ hich exceeds our abili- ty ; if we refuse compliance \\ ith the demands of equit}", till we ai'e forced to fulfil them ; or designedly put it out of our po\\er to satisfy such claims ; or continue to ■ improve what is due to another, without his knowledge or consent ; if we are determined to pursue and enjoy the world to the utmost limits of what is lawful, or to venture in this road as far, as we possibly can without exposing ourselves to certain damnation ; in short, if it be our rule of conduct to employ every measure sh(;rt of actual theft and robber}^, to obtain and keep worldly ]:)roperty ; in all or either of these cases we manifest tliat excessive love to present good, which is condemned in tlie text.
II. The way is now prepared to show that such a love to the Vv'orld is inconsistent with the love of God, or with the Christian character and hope. What I now mean to prove is, that, when such inordinate worldly affection habitually possesses and rules the heart, the love of God is certainly wanting.
For, First, the nature of things and the constitution of the human soul forbid the supposition of its loving two dift'erent, much more two contrary objects, supremely, at the same time. As man has but one heart, one self, so he can give this but to one master, or chief good at once ; for it is a plain contradiction to say, that one heart can have two chief goods at the same time ; for, if one be chief, the otlier must be subordinate. If the heart lays itself out supremely, or fully, upon one, it
158 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII.
must proportion ably exclude the other, as having no room to receive it, no vigour to bestow upon it. U "we could suppose the heart equally divided betv\een two objects ; in this case, it could not properly be said to lo\e and serve either, as its master ; for the two ob- jects or affections, like two equal and opposite forces, would destroy each other, in such a sense at least, as to leave the soul fiee from the dominion of either. Our Saviour has decided this case in short, when he says, " No sen'^ant can serve two masters ; for either he will hate the one and love the other ; or else he will hold to the one and despise the other ; ye cannot serve God and mammon." The servant must either hate one mas- ter in proportion as he loves the other ; or if we suppose him to love both, yet the more attentive and obedient he is to theene, the more negligent and regardless he must necessarily be of the other ; which demonstrates the utter impossibility of serving God and the world at the same time. This will be further illustrated, if we observe,
Secondly, That the commands and interests of these two masters in many instances clash with each other ; so that in obeying one, a man must necessarily disobey and renounce the other.
It is the first and great command of God, that we love him with all our hearts, and souls, and strength, and have no other god, or portion, but himself. But mam- mon requires and persuades its votaries to love the world with all their hearts, and to cleaAC to it, as their god and portion. God enjoins us to adhere closely to his institutions in our religious worship ; but the world entices its admirers, either to neglect the worship of Jehovah, or to corrupt it \^ ith human inventions, in order to suit it to worldly inclinations and views. God
Ser. XIII.l OF THE WORLD. 159
requires of us a reverential and sacred use of his name, attributes, sabbath, word, and works ; but the love of the world often leads men to an impious prostitution of them for secular purposes. God commands us to be content with such things, as we h.3\'e ; but the love of the world speaks a language directly the reverse. The command of God forbids fraud and unriirhteousness, theft and falsehood ; it forbids us to co\et the proper- ty, or to envy the prosperity of our neighbour ; but the world inspires its votaries with dispositions, and urges them to actions, diametrically opposite to these piccepts. God expressly requires us to set our affections on things above, not on things on the earth ; to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness ; comparatively to hate our dearest w^orldly connexions and interests ; to lay up our treasure in heaven, and in heart to sell all that we have, that we may purchase the pearl of great price ; to be anxiously thoughtful or careful for nothing here below, but to exercise a cheerful, thankful, suppHcating de- pendence on our heavenly Father, both for our present subsistence and our final happiness ; and in a word, to consecrate our all to the great purposes of honouring God, doing good to men, and promoting our own ever- lasting salvation. But inordinate worldly affection op- poses and defeats both the spirit and the letter of the di- vine requisitions. What tlie apostle predicates of the love of money equally applies to the attachment before us, which indeed is nearly coincident with it ; it is the root of all evil ; it is an unfailing source, a comprehen- sive summary of hunlan transgression and misery in all their varied forms. It leads to, or rather implies the heinous sin of idolatry ; for every covetous or worldly man is pronounced by the word of God an idolater. What is idolatry but paying divine honours to a crea-
160 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XIII.
ture? And what higher acts of honour can we render to the Deity, than supreme love and confidence ? These every covetous, and, I may add, every sensual and am- bitious man pays to the M orld. What though he does not formally bow down his body before it ? He dees un- speakably more ; he makes all the faculties and aiiec- tions of his soul bowdovvn to this idol. What ihough he does not literally ofter sacrifice or burn incense to mammon ? What tliough he does not present to it so much as one bleeding lamb ? He ofiers that, wiuch is far more valuable : he sacrifices the poor, by sutiermg them to perish w ith want ; he offers his ou n body, by exposing it to every hardship and peril for the sake of gain ; yea he offers his soul to this his deity, as a whole burnt offering, by devoting it to e\ erlasting flames for the sake of the world. Who, ni}- brethren, are the most stupid and detestable idolaters ? Those who offer slain beasts to the sun and to fire ? Or those who sacri- fice their own bodies and souls to dire and clay ?
It would be endless to enumerate the black catalogue of crimes, which issue from this love of the ^Aorld j the extortion and oppression, the hatred and strife, the false- hood and unrighteousness, the perjury and profanation of public justice, the robberies and murders, the wars and bloodshed. There is no evil, whether private, do- mestic, or public ; no impiety against God, nor injury against men, which is not wrapped up in this prolific passion, and which has not been actually generated by it. The heart, therefore, which is the subject of a reigning principle so extensively evil, cannot be the true servant of a Being infinitely good. Which leads us to add.
Thirdly, Since God, on account of his transcendent e;^cellence and \N'orth, is entitled to our supreme affec-
Ser. XIIL] OF THE WORLD. i^i
tion ; it follo\\'5 thiit no regard to him can be proper and acceptable, which does not far exceed our love to any other object. If therefore a person possessed some de- gree of respect to God, but at the same time regarded the \^•orld with still higher esteem and affection ; the former would l)e justly accounted, as nothing, as vanity, and a lie. For nothing merits the name of lo\e and homage to the Supreme, but that which treats him as supremely glorious, and accordingly giA'cs him the supremacy, yea, the entire possession of the heart. Since therefore the reigning love of the world denies him this supreme affection ; it is justly stigmatized as irxonsistent with proper and genuine love to him. This reasoning will acquire additional strength, if we observe, Fourthly, That the same realizing and eilicacious views of the glory of God, which attract the least degree of true love to him, will certainly produce a supreme af- fection. All unrenewed or impenitent sinners are inimical to the great Jehovah, from a conviction of his holiness, justice, and truth, and of their own contrariety to this holiness, and consequent exposedness to the con- demning sentence of this justice and truth. This enmity can be removed only by the removal of its cause : which is accomplished when we become radically changed and renewed from sinful idolatry, by the Spirit of the divine Redeemer. Wlien this is effected, we are reconciled to God ; being now conformed in disposition to his moral character. Of course those av\-ful attributes of Deity, which before we viewed with dislike and terror, are no^v amiable and consoling to our minds. His holiness, which is the sum and crown of his perfections, is now congenial and delightful to our sanctified taste, and raises our highest esteem and complacency. I say our highest esteem ; for the same objecti\ e grounds, which
162 ON THE LOVE [Ser. XI IL
engage us to love him at all, -vvill constrain our superlative affection ; for we love ever}'- object according to its ap. parent loveliness and value. Now, since God necessarily appears to the enlightened and renewed mind, the best and most excellent Being ; since he is an object perfectly suit- ed to its rectified dispositions, and fitted to satisfy its largest desires and expectations ; it will of course give him its highest love. It will seek and find its proper ha ppiness in him alone. It vv'ill despise and renounce all created sources of enjoyment, when brought into comparison or competition with him. Where there is not this tran- scendent love to the chief good taking place of inordi- nate worldly attachments ; there is not that spiritual reno^'ation in the views and affections of the mind, which is essential to the Christian character.
Our subject may be applied for the conviction and terror of those, whose character answers to the descrip- tion of the text. It is to be feared there are many nominal Christians, who reallv belong to this class, who yet esteem themselves true disciples of Christ, and heirs of his hcaA-enly kin^^dom. They cloak their cov- etous desires and pursuits under tlie soft- and innocent names of prudence and economy, of commendable dili- gence, or necessary attention to the support of their families. Similar arts of self deception are used by those, who are supremely devoted to the honours or pleasures of the world. Bat let me beseech ail such characters critically to examine dieir own habitual feel- ings and conduct, by tho.se marks of a \vorldly temper, vrhich have been specified ; and if'on such Inquiry, con- science shall pronounce them guilty, let them solemnly consider, that the word of God excludes them from the catalogue of Christians, and expressly shuts them out of the kingdom of heaven. Let them remember too, that
Ser. XIII.] on the love of the world. iC3
the nature of things as well, as the revealed constitution of God, debars those, whose hearts, whose chosen trea- sures have been wholly earthly and sensual from the spiritual and refined felicity of the celestial world. It is congruous, it is necessary, that our fate should coitcs- pond to our prevailing choice and character during this preparatory state. If then the world be the main ob- ject of our aftection and delight, our happiness, such as it is, must necessarily expire, and a state of consequent misery ensue from the instant, in which death shall sep- arate us from this idol of our hearts* Then, if not be- fore, wc shall fully realize the truth and emphasis of the poet's monitory representation ;
" Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ;
A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ;
On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires."
Let us all remember, that the world in its best state cannot suit and fill an immortal spirit ; that its purest enjoyments are at once mixed and unsatisfying, preca- rious and transitory. Reason, experience, and revela- tion unitedly proclaim that all below is vanity. Thus saith the Lord, Fa\'0ur is deceitful, and beauty is vain. Riches take to themselves wings, and fly away. World* Iv honour and sensual eratification afford but a short- lived gleam of pleasure. Earthly friendships are im- perfect and mortal. The world itself is passing away. From henceforth then let us seek a better country, that is, an heavenly. Ye that seek it, seek it early. Set your affections on things above, not on things of the. earth. For, by your Christian baptism and profession, ye are dead to the Avorld, and alive to God and heaven. Act agreeably to this profession. Let your life be hid with Christ in God. Then, when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, } e also shall appear with him in glory. c c
@)ermon xiv.
On the Divine Preference of Mercy to Sacrifice.
Matthew xii. 7. / ivill haiic mercy^ arid not sacrifice.
JL HIS passage is quoted by our Saviour from the Old Testament, to justify his disciples in gathering and rubbing out a few handfuls of corn, for their necessary refreshment on the Sabbath day. When the supersti- tious Pharisees condemned this action, as a profana- tion of the Sabbath, Jesus repels the accusation by show- ing, from their own scriptures, that God requires acts of charity before positive or ceremonial observances.
When God declares by his prophet, " I desired mer- cy, and not sacrifice," the genius of the Hebrew lan- guage, and the general tenor of Scripture, oblige us to understand it in a comparative sense ; as importing that the Deity values sacrifice y^r less tlian mercy, and when they interfere with each other, he requires us to omit the former, and attend to the latter. Many important texte, both in the old and new Testament, must be evi- dently expounded in this comparative sense.
The words, thus explained, suggest the follo'vving proposition ; That moral duties towards men are a more valuable and essential branch of religion, than external acts of worship towards God.
To set the proposition before us in a correct and just light, I must observe that religion essentially consists
Ser. XIV.] THE DIVINE PREFERENCE, &c. 165
in tlie respect of dependent creatures to their Creator ; which respect, expressed in every suitable way, com- prises the whole of religious duty. Hence acts of jus- tice and charity towards men may and do form a part of religion, because a true regard to God will prompt sincere love and beneficence to his creatures ; and when these social affections and offices flow from a pious re* spect to God ; when only a cup of cold water h given to one of Christ's disciples, as a testimony of love and obe- dience to him ; it is as properly an exercise of true re- ligion, as those duties, which immediately refer to our Maker.
Accordingly, the duties of religion are justly divided into tVA'O great classes ; one of which refers imme- diately to God, the other to man. It must be further observed, that the worship of God consists of two parts, external and internal : the former is made up of bodily and visible action ; the latter of the secret dispositions and exercises of the heart. The one is an outward sign or manifestation of the other, and is also an essential in- gredient in social or public worship ; as without it our common sentiments and feelings could not be expressed. But internal homage, consisting in hearty love, rever- ence, gratitude, penitence, and desire, constitutes the main part, yea the soul of true religion and of acceptable worship. To illustrate still further this important dis- tinction, let us attend to the ancient Jewish sacrifices, to which our text alludes, and which formed a large part of God's ancient instituted worship.
The killing and offering of beasts upon the altar was the external part, or the body of that worship ; \\hile love to God, repentance of sin, and faith m tiie future sacrifice of Christ, were the inward and vital spirit of it. The latter was an indispensable duty at all seasons and in all
166 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV.
situations, because it was of moral and immutable obli- gation. But the former varied, according to the cif- cumstances, opportunities, and abilities of the subject. Agreeably, the apostle tells us, that, where there is a willing mind, a man is accepted according to that \\hich he hath, and not according to that ^^•hich he hath not. While therefbrc Qod always requires the homage of otir hearts, he may alter, and even sometimes dispense with visible forms of devotion, where circumstances or some, greater duties forbid their observance.
Accordingly, we are now prepared to prove, that acts of justice, mercy, and usefulness to our fellow men are greater duties, than external religious worship ; though they are confessedly inferior to that inward de^'otion to- wards our Maker, which is the first and parent duty. This superiority of moral duties is confirmed, not only by the express declaration of our text, but by numer- ous arguments both from Scripture and reason.
In the frst place, the Bible insists on these moral virtues much more, than it does on external worship. Even the law of Moses, tliough very strict and copious in its ritual prescriptions, yet dwells with peculiar fre- quency and emphasis upon social duties.
In the twenty -third chapter of Exodus, that inspired la\vgiver enumerates a long catalogue of moral \'irtues, and denounces a dreadful sentence upon those, who neg- lected them. *' Thou shalt not wrest the judgment of the poor. Thou shalt not falsely accuse nor slay the innocent. Thou shalt take no gift in judgment. Thou shalt not oppress the stranger. Six years shalt thou sow thy land, but the seventh thou shalt let it rest, that the poor of thy people may eat." In Deuterono- my, he dwells still more largely and earnesdy on the same topics. " Thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor
Ser. XIV.3 OF MERCY TO SACRIPIQE. 1C7
shut thy hand from thy poor brother, but thou shalt open thy hand wide unto him. That \\ hich is altogeth- er just shalt thou follow, that thou mayest live." In the twenty-seventh chapter of that book, he directs the Levites to stand on Mount Ebal, and solenuily declare the curse of God upon transgressors; and it is re- markable that of eleven different sorts of offenders thus denounced, ten are doomed for violating moral and relative duties, and one only for neglecting or corrupting the ceremonies of religion. It is also re- markable, that six of those ten commands, which form the basis, and exhibit the leading spirit of the Jewish system, and indeed of all true religion, ai^e devoted to the several branches of social virtue. Agreeably, the great body of the Old Testament prophets insist fre- quently and principally upon justice, mercy, and truth-; and they promise the favour and best blessings of God on those, who steadily practise them. The Jewish Scriptures very often characterize the godly man, by the epithets y'wr, merciful^ upright.
The same features are conspicuous in the N^w Tes- tament writings. When \arious descriptions of men resorted to John, to receive his instruction and baptism, he chiefly inculcated moral reformation and social du- ty. Our Saviour too, in his sermon on the mount, d^^ells principally on a right temper and conduct to- wards our fellow men, and pronounces blessings on persons of this character. The writings of the apostles are likewise full of moral precepts. E^■en those epis- tles, whose prime object is the illustration, proof, or de- fence of evangelical doctrines, yet hold up Christian mo- rality as the great end and fruit of these doctrines, and by these they pathetically urge believers to mutual love and kindness, justice and truth, forgiveness an^ long-
158 THE .DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser.XIV.
suffering, and the whole train of relative virtues. Since therefore these duties are far more insisted on through- out the Bible, than external worship, we strongly infer their superior importance.
Secondly. When these two branches of duty arc mentioned or compared together in Scripture, the former is evidently preierred to the latter.
Thus, when the prophet Isaiah charges the Jewish people with awful degeneracy and wickedness, he pred- icates this charge, not upon their neglect of external v,'orship (for they abounded in sacrifices and oblations, in solemn meetings and festivals) ; but upon their violation of justice and mercy, without which he assures them that their multiplied religious observances were iniquity and abomination. He therefore calls upon them to re- form from their unrighteousness and cruelty, to seek judgment and .relie\'e the oppressed, to judge the father- less and plead for the widow ; and on this condition promises them the divine acceptance and blessing. In another part of his prophecy, after describing the people of Israelis taking delight in approaching to God, in fast- ing, praying, and attending ordinances, and as complain- ing that their zealous services were not accepted, he pro- ceeds to inform them, that the more acceptable fast is to •' break every yoke of oppression, to deal their bread to the hungry, and to cover the naked." In tliis way he assures them of the divine benediction. The prophet Micah also, after speaking with comparative con- tempt of burnt offerings, or of presenting to God thou- sands of rams, or ten thousands of rivers of oil, adds ; *' He hath shoAied thee, O man, \N'hat is good ; and ^^^hat dotli the Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"
Ser. xivo of mercy to sacrifice. 169
The same decided prefercnce of morality to external devotion marks many other passages of the Old Testa- ment. Our Saviour frequently pronounces the same decision ; and, in express terms, styles judgment, mer- cy, and fidelity the VAcightier matters of the law.
Thirdly. The history of the Bible shows, that verr degenerate and hypocritical professors of religion more commonly abound in acts of M'orship, than in moral du- ties. This, we have just seen, was remarkably true of ancient Israel. It was equally true of the Scribes and Pharisees, those worst of hypocrites, in the time of our Saviour. They were very precise in performing their religious ceremonies, while they covetously and cruelly devoured Vvidows' houses. These facts prove, that a zealous and persevering attachment to devout forms k far more consistent with a false and degenerate heai't, than the steady practice of social virtue ; and consequent- ly that the latter is more excellent, and a more de- cisive symptom of a good character, than the former.
Fourthly. When the gospefdirects us to show our faith by our works, it principalh^ intends works of justice and charity. Thus the apostle James, when pointing out the best fruits and evidences of saving faith, says ; "If ye fulfil the royal law, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, ye do well." He goes on ; " What doth it profit, my brethren, if a man say he hath faith, and hath not works ; can faith save him ? If a brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily food ; and one of you say to them, go your way, be ye warmed and filled ; not\vithstanding ye give them not the things which are needful for the body; what doth it profit?" This im- plies that such profession of faith is as unprofitable and as hollow, as good words to the naked and hungry with- out giving them any assistance. He accordingly adds.
I7(y THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV.
" Even so faith,'' if it have not works, that is, such as sire enjoined in the royal law just mentioned, " is dead ;'' that is, it is wholly lifeless and unprofitable ; yea, as the apostle proceeds to affirm, it is no better, than the fajth of devils ; for it is a faith without love and its beneficent fruits, and of course has nothing of the spirit of true re- lii^ion or morality. Accordingly, the apostle John re- presents it as a natural impossibility for a man to love God, and yet neglect acts of kindness to his neighbour. *' Whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother in need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him; how dwelleth the love of God in him?" And through his whole epistle, he insists on brotherly love and its fruits, as the surest mark of love to God. Saint James likewise, when summai'ily describing real Chris- tianity, says, " Pure religion and undcfiled is this, to visit the fatherless and widow in their affliction." All which al3undantly confirms the proposition before us.
llfthly. , The Scriptures represent our final sentence, as turning eminently upon our moral works. Christ, who is to be our Judge, tells us, that many in the day of judgment v/ill plead their great religious professions and performances ; tlicy a^ ill urge, that they have prophesi- ed in his name, that they ha\'e eaten and drunk in his presence, or at his table ; but their plea will be rejected. On the contrary, \Aorks of love and mercy to\rards men, especially to\\'ards afflicted Christians, are stated to be the principal things, which the. Judge will honourably mention and reward in the righteous, and the neglect of ^vhich he will punish in the wicked. He will accept the former, as if done to himself ; because they flowed from, and exhibit the best evidence of a spirit of faith, love, and obedience to him ; iirxX he will condemn the .latter, as aflbrding the most decisive proof of a want of
Ser. XIV.3 OF MERCY TO SACRIFICE, 171
true affection to himself. Our Sa\iour, in the twenty- fifth chapter of Matthew, describes this final process and decision in the most particulate simple, and affect- ing manner. We must suppose, that in this descrip- tion, the most important and distinguishing marks both of Christ's friends and enemies are held up to our view. Yet we find no mention made of external worship, nor of any thing, but the performance or omission of moral duties. How strong then is the inference that these, next to inward piety, are the most excellent part of re- ligion !
Having supported our doctrine by a variety of scrip- tural proof, let us listen a few moments to the voice of reason on this subject ; w hich will not only further es- tablish the point in hand, but show us the rational grounds of its truth.
Now, in the view of reason, moral duties are superior to outward religious ceremonies, because the former are right and excellent in their oxmi nature^ and consti- tute a great part of the end of religion ; while the latter are useful chiefly, as signs or instruments of somethine- further. Moral truth, justice, and cliarity, are unchang- ably fit and beautiful in ihemseives : they are immedi- ately necessary and conducive to the general p-ood as well, as to the true perfection of the agent. When rightly performed, they imply that holiness, and directly promote that happiness, which are the ultimate object of ail religious institutions. But the external worship of God is valuable chiefly, as a sign of inward piety, or a mean of moral goodness. Substantial or practical vir- tue is, therefore, as much superior to religious rites, as the end is superior to the means, or real excellence to the mere sign or expression of it, D d
172 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV.
Again, by outward devotion we express our regard to God by words, or professions only ; but by good works to our neighbour we show our respect to God by deeds. When a man publicly professes the religion, and attends the ordinances of Christ, he only calls him Lord, Lord ; but if he imitates and obeys him by a meek, kind, and useful conduct, he actually does the things, which he saith. If a man worship God by prayer and praise, he expresses with his lips a devout and suppliant, a pen- itent and thankful spirit ; but a conscientious discharge of all moral duties expresses the same spirit in language far more credible and emphatical ; I mean, the language of the life : he loves God and men, not in word and tongue only, but in deed and in truth.
We may add, that the steady practice of moral virtues Is far more crossing to a selfish, proud, and depra\^ed heart, than the performance of religious rites. The latter in many cases may be observed without much expense or self denial. Instead of counteracting, they may be rendered subservient to worldly interest, repu- tation, and po^\'er. Thus the ceremonial strictness and long prayers of the Pharisees were at once the cloak and the engine of their insatiable avarice, ambition and vanity. They served to varnish their characters, to promote their vices, to quiet their guilty consciences, and to nourish their religious hopes. But a life of strict justice and fidelity to their neighbours, of condescend- ing and liberal charitv to the poor and afflicted, A\ould have contradicted their selfish and haughty dispositions ; it would have been a costly and fatal sacrifice of their covetous and criminal pursuits.
These observations apply still more strongly to the ceremonial and moral precepts of Christianity. The religious institutions of the gospel are so few and simple.
Seb. XIV.] OF MERCY TO SACRIFICE. 173
tliat persons may \isibly attend them, without greatly taxing or suspending their worldly ease, emolument, or pleasure. At the same time, these institutions have so serious and sacred an aspect, that a regular and zealous attendance upon them may be made a convenient cover, compensation, or instrument, of the most immoral dispositions and purposes. But the practice of Christian morality implies the sacrifice of personal ease and hon- our, interest and pleasure, to the good of our neighbour and the public. It implies that expensive, resolute, and persevering self denial, which is one of the best proofs of a virtuous heart.
Hence the performance of moral duties reflects great- er honour upon God and religion, than external devotion. For it exhibits a more decisive testimony, a more self denving proof, of inward respect and obedience to God. It is honouring him., not by cheap professions only, but by costly sacrifices. It implies an affectionate and sted- fast imitation of his moral character. It immediately reflects and recommends his moral beauty and glory. By practically loving our neighbour as ourselves, by showing an invincible regard to the rules of justice and charity, we prove in the best manner our devotion to the command, /example, and honour of our Maker and Redeemer ; we 8;ive the most convincing; testimonv, that God is worthy to be regarded and obeyed in the greatr est and most self denying instances, and that inordinate self-interest, in all its claims and appearances, is to be readilv sacrificed on his altar.
, In short, ^\orks of bene\'olence, while they glorify God in the most substantial manner, directly contribute to the good of his creatures, and thus accomplish the two great ends of religion, namely, the happiness of the universe, and the honour of its Creator.
174 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [Ser. XIV,
We readily grant, that if our goodness extended to God, as it does to man ; if our external worship could benefit the former, as our charit ible oifices do the latter ; in this case our obligation to acts of de\otion would as far exceed that of social duties, as God is greater than man. But the transcendent greatness of the Deity, while* it entitles him to the first place in our hearts, exalts hiiri infinitely above the necessity or possibility of receiving benefit from our services. He has, therefore, appointed his sensitive and rational creatures, especially such of them as are peculiarly dependent or indigent, to be his deputies or representati^^es, to receive from us those beneficent offices, which we cannot immediately perform to himself. Hence it comes to pass, that next to the lo-\'e of our Creator, our most important duty is to seek each other's welfare, and in this way to give the most acceptable proof both of our piety and benevolence.
Our subject, in revie\v, furnishes a strong argument for the truth and divinity of the Bible. The Scriptures harmonize with sober reason in making love to God the first dut}^ of religion, and in assigning the second rank to right affection and conduct towards men. In this point Christianity essentially differs from, and infinitely excels, all other systems. The pagan, mahometan, and popish religions lay the main stress on ceremonial observances ; while modern infidel philosophy, being compelled, by the light and influence of revelation, to abandon the ab- surd and foul superstitions of ancient systems, has erect- ed a partial and external morality on the ruins of piety-; !t has expunged both the inward and outward \\'orship of Deity from the catalogue of human duties. Christiani- ty alone steers a safe and middle course between these fatal extremes. It comprises the whole of virtue in the love of God and our neighbour^ It makes substantial
Ssn. XIV.] OP MERCY tO SACRlEItfi, 175
beneficence to the latter the best fruit and evidence of our regard to the former. When we compare the gos- pel in this particular with the best efforts of human rea- son, we are constrained to regard it, as the offspring of divine wisdom and benevolence.
Hence secondly, our doctrine suggests an easy an- swer to one of the most plausible and common objections against revealed religion. It is often objected by free- thinkers, that the Bible is a superstitious,, fanatical, and contemptible book, because it enjoins so many religious ceremonies, which in themselves are unmeaning and useless. But such persons should consider that this same book holds up substantial piet}" and morality, as the end and crovv^i of all these ritual observances. They should also consider, that in the present state of human nature, the love and practice of moral goodness can neither be duly expressed, secured, nor promoted, \i-ithout some outward forms of religious worship and instruction. But reason and fact assure us, that the numerous ceremonies enjoined on the ancient Jews were of essential importance to preserve that gross and in- tractable nation in the faith and service of the true God, and the consequent practice of stiict, uncorrupted virtue- It is equally manifest, that the regular observance of the Christian Sabbath and its public ordinances is highly important to the interests of practical religion and morality. We may add, the objection before us im- peaches the nisdoni of all nations and ages, in appoint- ■inn- visible symbols and rites, as seals and memorials of important civil transactions and events. If America has acted a "wise and useful part in commemorating die birth of her independence, or the nativity and death of her most distinguished patriot ; it must surely be equally proper and beneficial for Gliiistians to celebrate their d}-
176 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE [See. XIV.
ing and risen Redeemer, and to attend those stated pub- lic memorials and instructions, which remind them of the great moral duties they owe to him and one another. Those, \\ ho ridicule Christianity on this ground, instead of showing a correct and liberal mind, or any real friend- ship to moral virtue, prove themselves strangers to both. Hence thirdly, our subject condemns all those, \^ho make a separation between devotion and morality, or V'ho exalt one on the ruins of the other. There are many nominal Christians, \'iho seem to place the whole of religion in orthodox laich, pious feeling, or devout external forms ; while they overlook, or perhaps despise the moral duties of the gospel, and can hardly endure those preachers, by \\hom tliey are frequendy enforced. The religion of this class of men, instead of making them good members of domestic, civil, and Christian society, often renders them selfish and unfeeling, proud and censorious, contentious and unmerciful. But such persons should consider that true piety is an unfailing spring of moral goodness; that the main proof and glo- ry of it consist in the steady love and practice of those virtues, which assimilate human natuj'e to the divine j or which render men like God in justice and truth, in i^ctive, universal benevolence. The}' should consider, that the inost strict and zealous attendance on religious ordinances is useful and acceptable only, as it expresses and promotes the lo\'e of God and our nciglibour ; ar.d that the best evidence of this love, both to oursehes and to the world, is a temper and life devoted to the general good. In short, as faith without A\orks, so prayers with- out alms, and good feelings witliout virtuous actions, are essentially defective, in the sight of omniscient purity. Let such persons farther consider, Avhat solemn ipiport- ance and dignity the Bible has contcrred on moral du-
Sfr.xiv.] of mercy to sacrifice. 177
ties, by ranking them higher than the immediate wor- ship of God himself. That infinite Being, who justly merits and strictly requires our private and public hom- age ; \\ ho in ancient times condemned to instant death the man, '\\ho profaned his Sabbath ; has yet expressly directed that his own sacred worship shall give place to needful offices of kindness to his rational, yea even to his inferior creatures ! How then can any flatter them- selves that they are serving and pleasing God, while they are habitually unkind to their fellow-men, or even to the brutal creation, however religious they may seem to be I But there is an opposite description of men, who in- sist that morality is the whole of religion ; that works of justice and charity are the only duties, which possess any worth or utility ; and that the performance of these will certainly entitle them to the favour of God and the happiness of heaven. But this opinion is condemned by the whole current of Scripture as well, as by the clear- est dictates of reason. That God ought to be worship- ped, is a natural and uniform sentiment of the human mind. Both the law and gospel echo this sentiment. Our blessed Saviour, who was our perfect exemplar, constantly united devotion with charity. He strictly ob- ser^ed the ceremonies of the Mosaic law. Will any pretend that their knowledge and 'virtue place them above the need of those ordinances, which are sanction- ed both by the example and authority of Christ himself? Will they arrogandy say, that their moral attainments are greater, or their sentiments more correct, than his? If He thou2:ht an attendance on relig-lous institutions nee- essary to show a due regard to the divine authority, to complete his own moral character, and to influence others to such attendance by the weight of his example ; does it not equally become imperfect men, of whatever
178 THE DIVINE PREFERENCE, Sec. [Ser. XlV.
description, to conduct on the same principles? Can a person be a truly moral man,^ who does not obey e^dery divine command? \\ho does hot reverence and worship his Maker, a Being of infinite moral excellence ? Can J hat man be steadily just and faithful to his fellow crea- tures from a sense of duty, vrho is unjust and disobedient to his Creator and Redeemer ? Can he be qualified to serve and enjoy God forever in his temple above, who takes no pleasure in worshipping him here below ?
May divine grace impress these solemn hints on each of our hearts ! May we ail be instructed to unite mercy and sacrince, the social and divine virtues in our charac- ters here, that we may be fitted for the jDcrfect exercises and pleasures of worship and charity in the kingdom of heaven.
@)crmDn xv.
On Christian Hope.
1 John iii. 3.
Eijery marij that hath this hope in him^ purijieth him- self^ eiien as he is pure,
JL HE apostle in this chapter endeavours to comfort and inflame his fellow Christians, by setting before them the transcendent greatness of God's love, and the ex- cellency of those privileges, which accrue to them from it. " Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestow- ed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God !" This wonderful privilege of being the children of God, is granted to, and enjoyed by the saints, even in the present life : " Beloved, now are we the sons of God." But still greater privileges are reserved for their future enjoyment ; "for we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he is." What a sublime and comforting prospect ! A prospect which, though its object be future and distant, conveys a good degree of present animation and fruition, through the anticipating influence of Christian hope. Even the remote view or expectation of such a felicity gives more delight and satisfaction, than the present enjoyment of the highest sublunary good.
At the same time, this hope of heavenly glory, far from lulling its possessor into indolent security, or en- couraging him to carnal and forbidden indulgence, is the most powerful and constraining incentive to duty. E e •
180 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE:. [Ser. XV.
*' He that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself, even as He is pure." While his supreme desire and expec- tation centre in the future beatific vision and likeness of his Lord, Ite feels himself incited to resemble him as liiuch as possible, aiid thus to make the nearest ap- proaches to, and the best preparation for his expected felicity.
Wheii the Christian is said to purify himself the idea is, that he acts in this affair as a dependent, subor- dinate ag-ent ; that he is a worker with and under God ; that havjn{>- received an habitual principle of holiness from the Spirit of grace, he, by the conciirring-aid of the sanie Spirit, diligently exerts this principle, or improves this talent, in a steady course of virtuous and useful t^onduct.
When the believer is further described as purifying himself, 'c^ccm as Christ is pure; the phrase even as denotes a resemblance in kind, not an equality in de- gree. It imports that the expectant of future glory pos- sesses, and studiously culfnates, the same love and meekness, the same pure and heavenly dispositions, the same spirit of submission, conformity, and obedience to God, vhich Mere perfectly exemplified in Jesus his master ; though he never does nor can reach that ar- dour and strength of virtue, which appeared in this di- vine Exemplar. Thus, in the natural body, the same vital fiuid, in kind^ which d\\ ells and flows in the head, pervades all the inferior members ; though in the former it may be accompanied with more refined and vigorous spirits. Though wc should grant tlvat the Christian hope prom])ts an earnest pursuit of the same degree of purity, which the Saviour possesses ; yet this would not infer the complete success of such pursuit ; for the best imitation of the feeble copyist can never equal the absolute perfection of the oiiginal.
Ser. XV.] ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. 181
The great object of the ensuing discourse "will be, t?o ilhistrate and confirm the purifying eflicacy of the Chris- tian hope. In order to which, it may be useful, in the first place, to state more particularly, what is included in the work of self })urilication, here ascribed to the hoping believer.
Now as all purification impbrts the rej-no^al of defile- ment; so this expression, in the moral or evangelical sense, signifies deliverance from the pollution of sin. With regard to the defihng power of sin in the heart, this must be gradually destroyed by repeated exercises of penitential sorrow for it ; by a vigilant prevention of the overt acts, and, as far as possible, of the in^vai"d motions of it in future ; b}^ fi'equent and strict inquiry into the state of our minds with respect to sin and hoU- ness ; by planting our strongest guard against constitu- tional or fiivourite vices ; by keeping our bodily senses and appetites under a constant and se\'ere regulation ; by cherishing habitual regards to Christ and the peculiar discoveries of his gospel ; and finally, by calling down succours from aboAC by earnest and continual pra\'er.
As the pra}-er of a sincere and contrite heart is the ap- pointed medium of obtaining sanctifying influences from Heaven, so it has an effi .icy in its very nature to purify and exalt the soul. For it awakens and increases in our minds a sense of the majesty and goodness, the purity and presence of God ; and thus strengthens our im- pression of the evil of sin, and of the beauty and obliga'- tion of holiness. It multiplies and enhances our en- gagements and motives to avoid ir.iquit^^ to resist temptation, and to practise duty. Thus it extinguishes vicious inclinations, increases the tenderness and force of conscience, improves our relish for devout and spir- itual exercises and entertainments, our zeal and vigoiir
182 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Ser.XV.
in the cause of virtue, and our endeavours to obtain a temper and behaviour corresponding to our prayers.
Having thus viewed the Christian purifying himself as God is pure, let us now attend to the happy efficacy of his hope in promoting this moral purity. That the hope of the gospel believer must have this salutary in- fluence appears,
First, From the ;Z(^///r(? of its object. The great object of the Christian's hope is eternal happiness in the perfect vision, likeness, and consequent fruition of his God and Redeemer. He expects, when his Lord shall appear, to be like him both in holiness and blessedness ; because he shall then see him^ as he is.
Now the hope of such a pure and elevated happiness directly implies, and promotes a temper of heart, cor- responding with the object in view. It implies such a temper, because the very nature of hope involves love to some absent good, joined to the cordial, pleasing desire and expectation of ere long possessing it. It therefore supposes a disposition of mind conformed or attemper- ed to this good : otherwise the mind could not expect it with pleasing emotions, but would regard it with in- difference or aversion ; that is, instead of hoping, it would rather dread its arrival. Consequently, the hope of completely resembling God hereafter implies a sin- cere love and conformity to him at present, producing an ardent, expecting, joyful desire of shortly awaking in Tiis perfect likeness. The hope of seeing Christy as he isy at his second coming, implies some affectionate, assimi- lating, and delightful views of his glory and love, in the present state, inspiring fer\'cnt aspirations after the fu- ture beatific vision.
This hope likewise^ directly profnotes moral purity as well, as implies it. For while ihc expecting Christian
Ser- XV.] ON CHRITIAN HOPE. 183
beholds and anticipates the approaching glor}^ of Christ and heaven, he will insensibly catch the image of that glory ; his heart will receive a more full impression of its admired object ; and thus will become more pure and heavenly, in proportion to the vigour and frequent exercise of its Christian hope. His desire and expecta- tion of such a holy felicity will likewise engage his assid- uous culture of those moral qualities, which must pre- pare him for it ; \^■hich alone can dispose, invigorate, and exalt his mind for the sublime employment and bliss of heaven.
A pre\'ious and confirmed habit of moral purity must qualify Us to enjoy, and even to support the future pres- ence and glory of God ; to relish and delight in die moral beauty and harmony of his perfections, and to be- hold the smiles of his approving face. The subject of an earthly so\'ereign, who desires and expects to be ad- vanced into his master's palace, to converse and live in the royal presence, will studiously adorn and fit himself for such an elevation. David, in the twenty- fourth psalm, proposes and answers this momentous question ; " Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ? Who shall stand in his holy place ? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart."
Were it possil)le for us to enter heaven without holi- ness, instead of being a seat of happiness, it would be to us a state of disgust, mortification, and torment ; be- cause nothing in it would suit our vicious and carnal propensities. None but the pure in heart can derive any blessedness from seeing God. To those of an op- posite character, the sight and presence of infinite purity must be a source of painful aversion, confusion, and horror. A genuine hope, therefore, of so refined a felicity must'stir up its possessor to purify himself, as
184 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Ser. XV.
Christ is pure ; that in this way he may be quahlied for the expected joys of his immediate presence.
Again. Christian hohness here is the appointed con- ditio?! or mean of future blessedness. It ia indispcnsa- bl}' required by the positive constitution of God as well, as by the very nature of the thing. Now the reasonable hope of a desired end is ever grounded upon, and leads to, a vigorous use of the means, which are nec'essary, or conducive to the attainment of it. None but a mad- man Mill hope to reap without sowing, or \\ill sow one kind of seed, and expect a harvest of another. If we sow tares, we cannot, without the greatest absurdity, expect to reap the finest of the wheat. In like manner, if we sow the seeds of vanity and sin in this life, m hich is the spring of our existence, we. must expect a corres- ponding harvest of confirmed depravity, disappoint- ment, and ruin in the next. There is no reaping life e\er- lasting, ^^"ithout pre\iously som ing to the Spirit, or living a spiritual and holy life ; and therelbre a scriptural hope of everlasting happiness is ever connected with such a life, and powerfully cjuickens its subjects to persevere and im- prove in it. Which suggests another idea, ^ iz. that as Christian purity is the great and only evidence of our title to heaven, the hope of it must not onlv' depend upon our having this evidence, but must engage us to preserve it in a clear, satisfying, and ad\ancing state. As we should esteem that man a presumptuous fool, A\h() hoped to in- herit an estate, to a\ hich he could show no title ; so it js ecjually foolish to hope for the heavenly inheritance, unless ve can sup]:>ort our claim to it by the grand charter of the gospel, But v\e cannot prove this, either in the court of conscience or of hea\en, but by the pu- rity of our hearts and lives. No one can rationally sat- isfy himself, that he is an lieir of God and joint heir
See. XV.] ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. 185
with Jesus Christ to future glory, unless he can pro^'e himself a child of God ; for if children^ then heirs. But he cannot prove himself a child, unless he exhibit in his temper and conduct the image and spirit of his heav- enly Father, or the peculiar dispositions which become his children ; that is, unless he manifest a spirit of filial love and reverence, submission and imitation. A good hope, then, must be founded on satisfactory evidence of real holiness, and must awaken earnest and unceasing endeavours after still higher measures of it.
Again, this hope coiistrains the soul to purify itself frorn^ motives of pious gratitude. For surely if I ex- pect so great and free a gift as eternal life from a Being, who might justly have doomed me to eternal death ; every principle of ingenuity, equity, and honour, must engage me thankfully to devote my short life to his ser- vice ! Shall I, can I go on to aifront and defy him, by whose grace I hope to be saved ? Can I expect the ac- complishment of all his exceeding great and precious promises to such a vile worm as myself, and yet contin- ue to trample upon the righteous laws and infinite ben- efits of so great and merciful a Sovereign ? Can I insult that goodness, from which I expect everlasting blessed- ness'? Can I hope to live and reign in glory with my exalted Redeemer, who was crucified on earth, that I might be glorified with him in heaven ? Can I hope for this, and yet crucify this Redeemer afresh, by indulg- ing those sins, which nailed him to tlie cross ? Does he demand no other return from me for his expensive love, than the constant study and practice of holiness, which is as much my privilege, as my duty ; and can I refuse him so small a requital ; a ser\'ice so easy, so proper, and so happy for myself? Surely they, who can act so base a part, ha\-e not the .generous spirit and hope of
186 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. [Sbr. XV.^
Christians, but are lost to common ingenuity. Every true friend of Christ and heir of his sah-ation is con- strained by his redeeming love, and by that affectionate hope and consequent gratitude, which are enkindled bj it, to live, not to himself, but to him who died for liim, and rose again.
I might add, that beside the moral or argumentative influence of Christian hope, in the respects now men- tioned, upon the character of its subject, it has likewise a natural efficacy to sanctify the heart and life. For it is one of the graces of that Holy Spirit, and of that heav- enly religion, whose whole design and tendency are to purify and exalt our degenerate nature. Consequently^, the hope of the gospel as ^vell, as all its other virtues, is essentially holy, both in its nature and effect, and there- fore must gradual ly root out the remains of sin, and carry forward the opposite interest in its happy posses- sor. Christian hope is also immediately connected with evangelical faith, both as it directl}- springs from it, and bears a striking resemblance to it ; and of course the same pure and noble fruits, which Scripture and expe- rience ascribe to the latter, may with equal reason be predicated of the former.
Our subject leads us to reflect on the excellency of the Christian religion, not only in bringing life and immortality to light, but in giving such a rational and sublime view of future happiness, and rendering the hope of it such an eminent instrument and support as well, as fruit and sojace of virtue. Thus the very privileges and comforts as well, as requirements, of the gospel, directly tend to sanctify our hearts, and raise them to their true perfection and felicity. How worthy is such a system of a holy and bencAolent Deity ! How friendly to the present and final w eliare of man !
Ser. xv.3 on christian hope. 187
Our subject presents a certain criterion, by which to try our hopes of heaven. We all, I suppose, profess to be candidates and expectants of future glory. But what are the grounds, properties, and effects of our hope? Is it built upon, and productive of, inward and practical holiness ? Or is it accompanied with security, sloth, and sinful gratification ? If the latter, our hope and our pretended religion, are mere absurdity, mock- ery, and delusion. For is it not repugnant to sober reason to hope for salvation, when our very hope is of such a nature and influence, as to prove us heirs of de- struction ? Can that hope originate from, and lead you to heaven, which has nothing heavenly in its nature and operation, but every thing the reverse ? How inexpres- sibly foolish is it, to expect a holy happiness without a holy disposition ! To expect to be finally glorious in the eyes of the Lord, when our prevailing character is un- like and contrary to his ! To look for complete and end- less satisfaction in the presence, service, and enjoy- ment of a Being, whom we habitually dislike, and whose laws of fellowship are our greatest burden and aversion ! To expect to find our eternal happiness and delight in those spiritual exercises and entertainments, which are entirely opposite to our present determined pursuits and established increasing propensities !
Is it not equally absurd and impious to hope for di- vine forgiveness and acceptance, \\ ithout a heart-purify- ing faith in, and vital union to, Christ ? To expect to be spared by that patience, which we continue to provoke, and to be finally embraced by that mercy, which we re- solve to abuse ? To propose to live the life of the Avick- ed, and yet die the death of the righteous ? To live in a worldly, proud, unchristian manner, and then die like holy, humble, heavenly Christians ? To hope for victorv Ff
188 ON CHRISTIAN HOPE. tSEH.XV
over sin and temptation by lazy wishes, without earnest struggles ap^ainst it ? And to enter in at the strait gate, without stri\ ing and agonizing for it ! How absurd to profess a belief of the Bible, and yet hope for happiness without, \ea, contrary to scriptural grounds ! to expect the end without the appointed means ! Yea, in the use of methods, which contradict and defeat it ! Such hopes as these, not only imply the mad expectation of absolute impossibilities, but also the impious presump- tion, that God will prove false to himself, to his own essential attributes and declared constitution, for the sake of honouring, and saving us in our perverse and rebellious dispositions !
Let those, who have hitherto cherished such infatu- ated, wicked, and ruinous hopes, be entreated immedi- ately to abandon them ; or else they, and their delusive expectations will soon perish together in the pit of de- struction ; for what is the hope of the hypocrite, when God shall take away his soul I But if we possess the pui'ifving hope above described, let us rejoice in it, bless God for it, walk worthy of it, hold it fast unto the end, and under its enlivening influence press for'.vard to Still higher degrees of Christian purity, confidence, and joy. Dearly beloved, having such precious promises as the ground and object of our elevated hopes, " Let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit^ perfecting holiness in the fcar of God.'*
Sermon xvl
The Christian Pattern.
Phil. ii. 5. Let this mind be in you^ ivhich %uas also in Christ Jesus.
X HE Cliristian religion luis this unspeakable advantage above ail other systems, that it holds out a perfect mod- el of virtue iiitlie life of its Founder; a model, which fully exemplifies and enforces his excellent doctrines and precepts; which exhibits at once the express image and glory of God, and a safe and complete directory for the conduct of man ; and agreeably, one main object of Christ's appearing in our nature, and living in our world, was to mark out by his life as well, as by his in- structions, the path to immortality.
The apostle in the text and following verses patheti- cally urges upon Christians a studious imitation of this glorious pattern, particularly in the amiable virtues of love and meekness, of humility and condescension. Accordingly, I shall take occasion to illustrate and en- force the great duty of copying the spirit and life of our blessed Master.
The first inquiry, which this passage suggests, is, in what res|Xicts is Christ an example to his followers f The answer is. He is our pattern in those things only, \\ hich are common to him and us. He is not an object of imitation in those things, ^\■hich were peculiar to him, as the Son of God and Redeemer of the world j nor did he exemplify those duties, \yhich result from
190 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser. XVI.
our peculiar situation, as sinful and redeemed creatures ; such as repentance of sin, and faith in the divine mercy through a Mediator. But Christ is our exemplar in all those right dispositions and actions, which belong to hu- man nature in its uncorrupted state, and to which it is gradually recovered by gospel faith and repentance. We are therefore bound to imitate him in all those mor- al excellencies, which he exhibited, as a subject of that law, of those relations and circumstances, which were common to him and us. In these particulars he is a pattern admirably fitted to guide and encourage our imitation. For
First, He possessed the same nature, and w^as placed in the same condition with ourselves ; and his example, therefore, being human, exhibits to us the same kind of virtues, practised in the same manner, and under similar circumstances of difficulty and temptation, as belong to ourselves ; and thus naturally affects our minds with a far more insinuating and engaging force, than different instances of virtue or even the same, in a different nature. In this view the example of perfect angels or even of the Deity could not be so suitable, so complete, or so en- couraging to us : it could not enforce those duties, which are proper to embodied and imperfect, to guilty and re- deemed creatures. But Christ was in all things made like unto us, sin only excepted ; he was subject to tiie same infirmities and passions, to the same troubles and temptations as well, as to the same general tics of duty. His example also takes in a 'uery great compass of virtue. It is so wonderfully ordered, as either directly to exem- plify, or strikingly to enforce the duties of almost every station and relation of human life. Filial piety towards both his earthly parents and his heavenly Father shone in his early and private life. He condescended to teach
Ser.XVIO the christian pattern. 191
us contentment and industry in our various secular call- ings, however mean and laborious, by following the me- chanical employment of his reputed father. By submit- ting to a poor, dependent, and suffering mode of life, and ever feeling and behaving suitably to it, he has ren- dered his example exceedingly precious and useful to the bulk of mankind, whom Providence places in a low- ly or trying condition. On the other hand, his volun- tary debasement of himself from his original dignity and riches to a poor and servile state, affords the most affect- ing lessons of humility, condescension, and self denial to the wealthy and honourable. By his gentle, dis- creet, yet authoritative government of his own family of disciples, b}^ carr}^ing the same wisdom and authority into all his public ministrations, and thus holding bodi the people and their rulers in awe, he gave instructi\e hints of the true spirit and model of government in do- mestic, civil, and sacred departments. Though he could not literally exemplify the conjiigal and parent- al duties, because he never sustained these relations ; jet he is really our example here to the greatest advan- tage, on account of that spiritual relation of husband and father to the church, ^vhich he fills with corresponding affections and acts. In a ^\ord, his con^■crsation was so free, so open, and afiable ; it preserved such a happy medium between affected singularity and unlimited compliance, between rigorous austerity and unbecom- ing levity, as rendered it at once very endearing, and admirably fitted for general imitation.
The notoriety of his example likewise greatly increas- es its utility. Not only were the leading traits of his character conspicuously displayed in the country where he lived ; not onl} were his principal actions and discour- ses performed before great numbers of witnesses ; but
192 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser. XVI.
his excellent life is exhibited to all future ages in authen- tic and inspired narratives, whose artless, open, unaf- fected manner admirably resembles the beautiful simpli- city of chai-acter, which distinguished the subject of their history.
Finally, The absolute perfection of Christ's example forms its cron-ning excellence. His whole temper and conduct from his birth to his death were pure from the least moml defect: they in no instance fell short of the utmost demand of the moral Iavv% or the perfect moral rectitude and dignity of human na- ture. Far from this, the excellency of his obedience was greatly enhanced by his trials and sufferings, be- yond that which the primitive state of man could ad- mit. While his unblameable life, his entire exemption from guile, both in heart, conversation and behaviour, his total separation from sin and sinners, instruct us to abstain even from the appearance of evil ; his careful fulfilment of all righteousness teaches and animates us to do well, to perform every duty to God, our neigh- bour, and ourselves, in the most exact, engaged, and exemplary manner. h\ short, his example being equal- ly perfect with the divine law, becomes a safe, easy, and complete rule of duty to his followers ; a rule, which warrants and demands their implicit and constant regard.
The usefulness of such a jierfect example appears from its tendency to impress mankind \\'ith the reasona- bleness of the divine law in all its requirements, and to guard them against light or indulgent thoughts of any deviations from it. Had no example appeared in our world of obedience fully equal to the law of our nature, men would too readily have concluded that the law was originally set too higli for such a creature as man; they would have satisfied themselves with aiming at less thau
Ser. XVI.] the christian pattern. 193
perfection ; they would too easily have indulged many sins, as the harmless and unavoidable infirmities of hu- manity. But the example of Jesus in our nature, yield- ing? a complete obedience to this law, wipes away this as- persion both from the nature of man and the law of God, by practically evincing that the former w as origin- ally capacitated and destined for perfect virtue, and that the latter lies exactly level with this unperverted capaci- ty ; and of course that every transgression of this rule is without excuse.
This benefit of Christ's example is enhanced by the divinity of his person. " Though he were a Son, yet he learned obedience." Though he was originally in the form of God, yet by condescending to assume our nature he voluntarily subjected himself to its duties, and placed his greatest glory and happiness in performing the most exact obedience to the will of God. While his human nature was the direct and principal subject of this obedience, it derived a transcendent value and dig- nity from the intimate union of the man Jesus with the divinity. At the saxne time his stooping from his orig- inal dignity to a state of subjection to his Father's law, recommends obedience to it in the most forcible manner. In this way, as one expresses it, " God has glorified a state of obedience to himself."
We may add, the alacrity and serenity which our Lord expressed through the whole course of his life, amid so ma- ny laborious and selfdenying services, greatly recommend his example to our imitation, by showing that the most strict, and even suffering virtue is consistent with self en- joyment ; yea, is a rich source of inward happiness. The consciousness of obeying and pleasing his Father, the as- surance and enjoyment of his constant presence and sup- port, the glorious recompense and joy set before him sweetened all the toils and diflicuities of virtue,
194 THE CHRISTIAN" PATTERN. [Ser. XVT.
and ni.\de the service of God his daily meat and drink. Wh:it an alluring charm does such an example give to a life of self-denying and holy obedience !
Having stated in what respects Christ is a pattern to ss, and pointed out the eminent fitness and utility of his example, we will now more particularly enforce the du- ty\and importance of our imitating this perfect exemplar.
1. Our obligation to this results from one important part of Christ's errand into our world. While the first and chief object of his mission was to mediate between God and man, by. making atonement to the one for the sins of the other ; it was a collateral and essential branch of his undertaking to provide for the sanctification of men at the same time, and through the same means, by which he procured their forgiveness. The same spot- less obedience, by which he merited and secured the jus- tification of penitent believers, is the great pattern, the effectual incentive and security of their i>ersonal holiness. That this was a leading object of his life, appears from tlie great care taken to record his actions \\'ith so much pai'ticularity by the pens of four different historians. This design is also frequently and directly expressed by the sacred writers. Thus St. Paul represents the con- fm-?mty of Cliristians to the image of God's So?i, as comprising all those blessings of grace and glory, to which infinite mercy has predestinated them. As God has formed the human nature of his Son to be a fit mod- el of excellence and perfection to his saints ; so he forms all the vessels of merc}', all the heirs of glory in a good degree after this model; that by thus partaking of Christ's holiness they may be prepared for a final parti- cipation of his blessedness. Does not this infer a strong obligation on all professed Christians to co-operate with God and his Son iu this noble desl-^n ; and of coarse to
Ser. XVI.] THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. 195
Jceep the perfect character of Jesus constantly in their eye, and to study the nearest possible resemblance to it ? How vain will it be for any to expect the benefits of his death, who have no conformity to his life ; since both united form one indivisible plan of salvation, and since our very name or calling, as Christians, is resolved into this conformity to Christ, as our head ? Agreeably, St. Petier in the verse of our text says, " Hereunto are ye called, diat ye should follow his steps :" and our Lord himself tells his disciples in the thirteenth of John, " I- ha-i e given you an example, that ye should do, as I have, done to you." Which brings us to observe,
Secondly, That imitation of Christ is often explicitly enjoined and pressed upon his professed disciples. How frequently does he propose following him, as the great condidoii and mark of discipleship 1 How often does he recommend particular parts as well, as the whole of virtue, as fully exemplified in himself I " Take my yoke upon you," that yoke which I have first borne myself, previously to my imposing it on you ; " and leai^n of me, fori am meek and lowly in heart." He also repeatedly commands them to love one another, even as he loved them. Several general and particular exhortations to the same purpose occur in the epistles.* Thus the same divine authority, which enjoins universal holiness upon us, prescribes the imitation of Jesus as itself a constant duty, as a stated and necessary part of our religion, and a great instrument of our moral perfec- tion. The primary gospel duty, which enlivens and rectifies all others, is a designed and studious conformi- ty to Jesus Christ in all those things, which constitute
• See Rom. xv. 5. Phil. ii. 5. 1 Pet. iv. 1. C 8"
196 THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser.XVL
the moral image of God and perfection of man. While all other examples are proposed to our imitation in a re- strictive and occasional manner only ; his is set before us as our ultimate and infallible model, \\l]ich at once limits and controls all other patterns and rules, and chal- lenges our supreme and constant attention. Agreeably, St. Paul exhorts the Corinthians to l;c followers of him so far only, as he A\as of Christ ; and after he has pointed out to the Hebre\vs a great cloud of other witnesses, directs them to centre their views on Christ ; " looking," that is, princii)aily and continually " looking to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith."
Thirdly. The relations between Christ and all true Christians bind this duty upon them". He is their Lord and Master, w ho has both completely taught and ex- emplified their duty, and in this respect excelled all other masters and teachers'. Does not this oblige us to excel all other disciples, in imitating our master ? Are the pupils of other doctors zealous to follow their peculiar directions and manners, however whimsical or even culpable? And shall not we be much more engag- ed to follow the perfect doctrine and example of our divine Instructer? Is he also our best friend and bene- factor ? Does he call and treat us as his brethren, his children, the members of his body ? And shall not we, bv a gratciiil and studious resemblance of him, adorn and fill these endearing and honourable relations ? Ought thee not to be a beautiful likeness, symmetry, and cor- respondence between the head and members of the same liodv? How unseemly and monstrous would it be, if hke Nebuchadnezzar's image, while the head is of pure gold, some of the members should be no better than *■' miry clay!"
SfiR.XVI.] THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. 197
Fourthly. This conformity to Jesus is the natural tendency and result of all Christian graces, and of course is necessary to prove their sincerity. Can we heartily believe in Christ, or realize the spiritual beauty and glory of his character, \vithout being changed into ;the same image, without springing forward v\ ith holy .emulation to transcribe his excellent qualities ? Can we heartily acquiesce and trust in his mediatorial righteous- ness, as the ground of our justification, without seeing the beauty and glory of this righteousness, as magnify- ing and honouring Qod's perfections and law, and being cordially pleased, and conformed to it ? Can we truly rely on Christ to save us from sin and its threatened punishment, without joining with him in heartily coiv demning the former, and justifying the latter? Have we a believing hope of spiritual and eternal blessings to be dispensed through Christ to us, in conformity to tlie grace and glory, which are in him ? Will not this hope engage us to purify ourselves, even as he is pure ; that so we may be both qualified for, and entitled to the .expected felicity ? Finally, who does not know that love has an assimilatinp; influence ? And \^ ill it not have the greater energy here, as the lo\'e of Christ to us led him in the first place to conform himself to our degrad- ed and miserable state, that he might conform us to his own glory and blessedness ? IVIust not grateful affection jon our part produce corresponding returns? Must it not prompt our best efforts to copy so bright and en^ dearing a pattern ?
Fifthly. The honour of our religion and its great Author is deeply concerned in this matter. If the pro- fessors of Christianity practically contradict the holy ex- ample of its Founder^ they essentially injure not only themselves, but their profession. If they are habitually
THE CHRISTIAN PATTERN. [Ser. XVL
proud, revengeful, covetous, unjust, intemperate, or un- godly ; the world will be apt to view their religion and Master as patronizing or fostering these vices. If \Vd have the generous spirit of Christians, we canrtot willingly contribute to such vile imputations on the best religion and Master in the v^orld. On the contrar}% ^^'e shall feel a tender and earnest solicitude, that the excellent spirit and life of our absent Lord may still shine forth to the ad- miration of the n orld, in the corresponding temper and practice of his followers, and that thus the honour and influence of his name and gospel may be preserved and extended through all countries and generations. As nothing has hindered the universal propagation of Christianity so much, as the unchristian spirit and man- ners of those individuals and public bodies, who profess this religion ; so nothing would contribute so powerful- ly to honour the gospel, and extend its triumph, as a striking moral resemblance in its professors to the ex- ample of their Head.
IMPROVEMENT.
i. If Christ was so perfect a pattern of virtue, his pretensions to a divine mission must have been founded in truth. For it is highly absurd and conti-adictqjy to suppose, that a person of so excellent a character should practise the most impious and cruel fraud in the name of the God of truth and love, or that a series of such pure and noble actions, as are recorded of Jesus, should proceed from a vile and abandoned impostor. Besides our Saviour's extraordinary pretensions and ac- tions are supported by the same evidence as his amiable moral virtues : to profess therefore, as many deists do, an admiration of the latter, while we reject the former, is either very weak or hypocritical.
Ser.XVL] the christian pattern, 199
2. Hence the main scope of the gospel is practical s for it is intended to make us conformable to its Founder.
3. Hence Christianity unspeakably excels all otlier religions ; since it exhibits a personal, visible, and com- plete representation of the invisible God, and a perfect pattern of virtue for man. '
4. How ought this to recommend to our studious attention the life of Jesus, as drawn by the evangelists 1 With what diligence should we both contemplate and copy its excellencies ! How carefully should we exam- ine our tempers and lives by this standard] We are t<^ judge of our real Christianity, not by our orthodox no- tions, our former imaginary conversion or experiences, or our transient or periodical feelings, but by our steady practical imitation of Jesus ; for if any man have noi the spirit of Chiist, he is none of his.
Sermon xvii.
Religious Joy explained and recom- mended.
Philippians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord aii\jay ; and again I say^ rejoice.
T
HAT Christianity is Ji friend to human happiness, appears from numberless circumstances; particularly from this, that good men are so frequently invited and commanded to rejoice^ to exercise and cherish one of the most delightful affections of the soul. We must, how- ever, rem(?mber, that the joy, which the Scriptures en- join, is of a peculiar kind ; such as the bulk of mankind neither know, desire, nor pursue. It is a joy in the Lord ; it has God for its object and source; it springs from religious principles, exercises, and prospects ; it is one of the highest privileges as well, as duties of real Christians, as it equally expresses and improves both their holiness and happiness.
In discoursing, therefore, on the pleasing aiid reiterat- ed precept of tlie text, I will endeavour,
I. To explain, and
II. To recommend and enforce it.
In the first place, we will explain the nature of rejoic- in.y in the Lord.
Now, in general, it imports a cordial acquiescence and delight in the divine character, government, and benefits. Holy joy is primarily founded on the essential
Ser.XVII]. religious joy. 201
beauty and glory of the divine nature and attributes ; and implies a heaitfelt satisfaction and triumph in contem- plating the existence, perfection, and dominion of Jehovah.
The pious man rejoices in the existence of such a being as God- While he hears God saying in his word and works, " I am, and there is none beside me ;'* his heart echoes its joyful amen : " Lord, I believe, I see, I feel that thou art, and I exult in the belief. Could I once suppose, with some modern vain philos- ophers, that there is no first, self-existent, all perfect Being at the head of the universe, what a scene of dark- ness, and confusion, and wretchedness, would the face of the world exhibit ! All the charms of the visible heavens and earth would at once fade on my sight. But I see and feel myself surrounded with Deity. I see and admire God in the sun, moon, and stars, in every ob- ject and occurrence around me. In all his creatures and works, I ha^ e a bright and transporting view of his glorious existence."
The pious heart is also unspeakably delighted with all the perfections of this infinite Being. When he hears God saying, " I am that I am," possessed of the most sublime, incommunicable, eternal perfection and bless- edness, his heart eagerly replies, " Lord, I sincerely re- joice in that fulness of glory and bliss, which resides in thy adorable essence, and thus in some degree participate and enjoy thy divine felicity. While I feel a benevo- lent and joyful interest in the derived, the scanty ex- cellence and happiness of my fellow creatures ; shall I not much more rejoice in my Creator, on account of his uncaused, his transcendent glory and blessedness ? Shall I not rejoice in the idea, that supreme wisdom and power, rectitude and goodness are continually adminis-
202 llELJGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XV|r,
tering the affairs of the universe In the best possible man- ner, and overruling its present partial evils and disor- jders to the final good of the system ai^d glory of its Author?"
Further, the true friend of God rejoices in all the manlfcstat'ions of his excellent character and will. The heart, which loves and delights in the divine perfections, will desire and be pleased with the display, and the re- flected glory of these perfections. Hence the good man rejoices in the word of God, which is the most clear and perfect exhibition of his nature, counsels, and will. He discerns the chaiacters of divinity in the volume of Scripture as well, as of nature ; in the sublime doctrines, the holy precepts, the precious promises, and majestic discoveries of the former as, well, as in the admirable order aiid beauty, magnificence and utility of the latter. Ke therefore exclaims, " Oh, how I lo\'e thy law ! It is my meditation day and night. I love to trace thy footsteps wherever I can find diem. In the commands and sanctions of thy law, I see a bright transcript of thy moral excellencies, and a perfect rule to direct me how to serve and honour thee. In the peculiar truths of thy gospel I behold a still more complete as well, as more endearing display, of thy perfections and designs. In these I see, with mingled admiration and joy, a most wonderful and effectual method to recover thy degener- ate offspring to thine image and favour ; I rejoice in this scheme of salvation, because \\hile it brings peace and good \y\\\ to men, it proclaims glory to God in the high- est. I rejoice in Christ Jesus, the Gospel Saviour, be- cause he is the express image of the invisible God, and the perfect refulgence of his glory."
On the same principle, the pious Christian delights in the ordinances and duties of religion, because they are
See. XVIL] RELIGIOUS JOY, 203
the medium, by w hich he approaches, honours, and en- joys his heavenly Fadier. And while he thus rejoices in the present imperfect exercises of religion, as means of diis divine communion ; he is equally delighted with the hope of its approaching consummation in that world, where he will behold and love, glorify and enjoy the infinite Jehovah in a perfect and progressive manner forever and ever.
Thus the good man's joy begins, centers, and termi- nates in God himself ; in contemplating, resembling, and honouring him, and receiving corresponding returns of his favour. So that the glory of God and the happiness of his friends are harmoniously and indissolubly united. The saint has no true joy separate from glorifying God ', and so far as he feels a temper of love to, and satisfaction in God, he is necessarily happy ; and this happiness at once reflects gloiy upon its benevolent author and ob- ject, and furnishes its subject with new incentives and advantages to serve and praise him.
How different are the feelings of holy Christians from those of ungodly or hypocritical characters ! The habit- ual, the hardened sinner, far from being pleased with the existence and character of the Most High, dreads and hates the idea of him, because his nature is holy. The pulse and wish of a wicked man's heart are, therefore, on the side of atheism. " The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." And the counterfeit, deluded pre- tender to religion, though he may seem to overflow with spiritual joy, yet does not really rejoice i?i God, but in himself. He rejoices, not in the infinite majesty, beau- ty, and felicity of the divine nature ; but in his own fan- cied dignity and goodness, his own imaginary religious experiences and attainments, privileges and prospects. Of course his joy begins and ends in himself; it is the H h
204 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIT.
spurious offspring of pride, self love, and self decep- tion.
But it is necessary to add, though true joy primarily fixes on God himself, it does not exclude, but implies, the consideration of his benefits. As the good man is supremely delighted with the essential glories of Deity ; so he consequentially and subordinately rejoices in his own interest in him, in the evidence of his special and everlasting favour. With what unutterable delight does he breathe out that exulting language, " This God is MY God foreiier and e^ucr. His unerring wisdom is my unfailing guide ; his omnipotent arm is my constant shield ; his infinite goodness, beauty, and love are my satisfying and everlasting portion !" What a new, addi- tional charm must this appropriating joy in God as our Friend impart to all the streams even of his common bounty 1 How unspeakably estimable and sweet is the least mercy, when we can view it as the gift of a most excellent, generous, beloved Patron and Father !
How essentially does the pleasure, which the pious man takes even in the common entertainments of life, differ from that of the sensual and profane ! The sensitive en- joyments of the one are refined by the rational and sub- lime pleasures of thankful dcAOtion, Mhich forms the crowning ingredient of his pleasures ; while those of the other are merely natural, selfish, and brutaL The Chris- tian brings to the entertainment, that inward sweetness, contentment, and gladness of heart, which flow from the love and blessing of God, and which give a rich and de- lightful flavour to the meanest enjoyment. " Go thy way," says Solomon, " eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now ac- cepteth thy work." Since God accepteth and blesseth tlie righteous man, no wonder tliat joy and gladness.
Ser. XVII,] KELIGIOUS JOY. 205
thanksgiving and the voice of raelody, are found in his habitation ; for God himself is there as a constant guest. But since the secret curse of God is- upon the wicked man, and all that he has, it must blast every enjoyment, and either immediatelj'- or ultimately turn it into gall, and wormwood, and deatli.
The religious joy of the saint is also an effectual reg- ulator of his inferior delights. While he cheerfully par- ticipates in the innocent pleasures which his heavenly Parent sets before him ; he endeavoui"s to enjoy them like a man and a Christian ; witli a cautious moderation and sobriety ; so as not to violate or lose either his rea- son or religion ; *so as not to be transported into idle lev- ity, thoughtless folly, or intemperate excess ; so as not to sacrifice the pure and sublime joj-s resulting from the favour and enjoyment of his God, to these perishing de- lights. Then we act in cliaractcr as Christians ; then we truly rejoice in the Lord ; when we sacredly regard tills rule, to rejoice in worldly good as though we re- joiced not ; to use the world as not abusing it ; and constantly to restrict all our other pleasures by a su- preme regard to, and delight in, our Maker. But car- nal men reverse this rule. They devote themselves to earthly enjoyments in an unbounded degree ; they cen- tre their whole happiness in them; they sacrifice to them their reason and conscience, their present virtue and peace, and their future immortal hopes,
Fiuther, The joy of the Christian in the bounties of Heaven is a modest and humble affection, arising from a proper sense of liis dependence on God for them, and his sinful unworthiness, forfeiture, and abuse of them. Accordingly, while religious joy soars as high as heav- en in adoring gratitude and praise for the condescending and wonderful goodness of God ; it sinks as low as the
206 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser.XVII.
dust in penitent humiliation for its own conscious vile- ness and ill-desert. But the joy of unsanctified men, on such occasions, is a proud and independent feeling; which swells them into imaginary deities, and leads them to ascribe their enjoyments to their own sagacity, indus- try, or merit.
In a word, true joy in the divine benefits, while it el- evates the heart to the infinite Giver, inspires greater zeal and alacrity in his service, and a keener relish for the enjoyment of him. " Can I," says the good man, *' go on to offend that God, Mho is daily feasting me with his beneficence ? Shall I not with pious gratitude ref^xct back on their great Original the innumerable cheer- ing beams of divine goodness, which are shining upon me ? Shall I not, by ardent love and vigorous obedience, return to the infinite Fountain, that full tide of joy, which is daily flowing into my heart? Shall I not testify my cheerful gratitude to my divine Benefactor by imi- tating his diffusive and disinterested goodness ; by im- parting to his creatures the same gladness, which he is communicating to me ; by improving the talents and blessings which he confers upon me in promoting the happiness of his rational family ? If the little rivulets of pleasure, Mhich comfort my earthly pilgrimage, be so delicious, what must it be to have an intimate, perfect, and everlasting enjo}ment of their uncreated Source ! Let my taste of the former, then, continually increase my relish and prej)aration for the latter."
Thus we see that religious joy is not a mere specula- tive sentiment, or rapturous feeling of die mind ; much less a transient, mechanical flash of the animal affec- tions ; but such a steady, delightful union of the heart to the divine character, as engages us to resemble and honour it by a con^espondent practice ; and such pure
Ser. XVnO RELIGIOUS JOY. 207
gratitude for divine benefits, as greatly improves our at- tachment to, and cooperation with, their benevolent au- thor ; and awakens our cheerful activity in serving God and our generation.
I must add, true joy in the Lord is a constant and perpetual affection. It does not vary \\ ith outwai'd cir- cumstances, but subsists the same, amid all the vicissi- tudes of life. Some may be ready to ask, Is the com- mand in the text seasonable and binding at all times, even in scenes of great adversity and distress ? Is it suit- able, or indeed possible, to rejoice in such circumstan- ces ? Wx instantly reply in the affirmative. For since the great object, foundation, and materials of this joy are unchanging and everlasting; and since the soul, which is its subject or recipient, is immortal ; the exer- cise of it should be stable and permanent. It ought not to be disturbed by the greatest external changes. When we are depri\'ed of other sources of comfort, still we may and must rejoice in the Lord ; for the fountain, \^'hich feeds this joy, never ceases to flow. Agreeably, Saint Paul charges Christians in the text, and else^vhere, to rejoice in the Lord always ; to rejoice ei^ermore ; to give thanks always for all things. And he describes himself and his fellow professors in the primitive age of Christianity, amidst all their uncommon sufferings, as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. Though tliis may sound like a strange paradox to common ears ; yet it does not in the least grate the ears of Christian believers ; who are taught to view God, his government, and promises, as unchangeably -wise, benevolent, and faithful.
If the Christian be afflicted in his body by sickness or pain, which incapacitates him for enjoying the world ; yet his soul, being in a healthful state, may enjoy both itself and its God. When a good man, indeed, is Ian-
208 RELIGIOUS JOt. [Ser. XVII.
guishing under disease, and his animal and mental spir- its are low ; he cannot ordinarily exert such vigorous and sensible emotions, even of spiritual joy, as when liis body is in tune for assisting and joining with his soul in these divine exercises. Much less can this be ex- pected, when he is visited widi sharp and torturing pains. But if in such a situation he can possess a calm, though not an impassioned joy ; if he can serenely trust, ac quiesce and delight in God ; this must be o^vned an invaluable privilege, and a mighty support. Now this attainment a pious man may and ought to make. When his flesh and his heart fail him under the pressure of dis- ease, he may and should confide and rejoice in God, as the strength of his heart and his portion forever. When he feels his earthly tabernacle tottering, and ready to drop into the dust ; he may exult in the prospect of a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. When his body can no longer be the subject or avenue of any satisfliction, he can retire inward, and feast on those rational, moral, and divine pleasures, which ai'C peculiar to the soul ; and may triumph in tlie thought, that his immortal spirit will soon exchange its present uncomfortable prison for a more free and congenial habitation, where it will en- joy itself and its proper entertainments in an uninter- rupted and perfect manner.
If the Christian be oppressed with worldly losses and calamities, he may still say with the prophet, " Although the figtree do not blossom, and there be no fruit in the vine;'* though my earthly possessions and prospects fail ; " yet I will rejoice in the Lord ; I will joy in the God of my salvation." He may still say with the apos- tle ; "I have nothing, and yet possess all diings." For having God for my treasure, I have enough ; I have all and abound : I possess an inward fund of riches and sat-
See. XVII.} RELIGIOUS JOY. 209
isfaction, which has no dependence on the world; which does not ebb and flow with that restless and tem- pestuous sea."
We may rise one step higher, and say, that the true saint may and ought to rejoice in God even in the midst of spiritual darkness and distress ; in the midst of painful doubts and fears respecting his own interest in the di- vine favour. Though he cannot, in such a case^ rejoice in God as his assured friend -, yet his mind may be en- tertained with affectionate and delightful views of the perfect rectitude, glory, and blessedness of the Deity, the complete fitness and beauty of his whole plan both of providence and grace, and the excellent issue to which all his proceedings are harmoniously tending. When a person of a sanctified taste thus contemplates with suitable affections, the beauty of divine objects, he has a direct and noble enjoyment of them. If he dares not claim a special interest in them, he still relishes and rejoices in their intrinsic excellence. If his heavenly Father still seems to frown upon him, and withholds from him the sensible tokens of his love ; yet he still cleaves to him with filial attachment; he resolutely maintains a spirit of dutiful submission to, of trust and delight in, the divine character and government ; and is far more concerned to honour God by a proper beha-- viourin, and improvement of, his present affliction, than merely to obtain light and comfort for himself. A per- son, who habitually possesses these exalted views and feelings, must derive from them perpetual tranquillity and cheerfulness, even in the darkest hours of distress. May almighty grace inspire us all with this temper and this blessedness.
@)ermon xviii.
Religious Joy explained and recom- mended.
Philippians IV. 4. Rejoice i?i the Lord a/way ; and again I say, rejoice.
AVING largely explained the nature of religious joy, it remains, agreeably to our plan, that we now recommend and enforce the practice of it.
When the apostle repeatedly exhorts good men to rejoice in God, he evidently implies that spiritual joy is one of their greatest privileges and duties. In both ^these lights I will endeavour to recommend it to your earnest cultivation and pursuit.
First. It is one of the Christian's noblest prerogatives and blessings. For the object of this joy is the most excellent in the universe : for who or Vv^hat in the heav- ens or earth is to be compared to the Lord? When we offer to make a comparison between God and other be- ings, there is nothing Vv-hich appeal's great or estimable, but all things seem equally little, none of them bearing tlie smallest conceivable proportion to tlie infinite Being : so that the \vhole universe in this view appears less than nothing and vanity. This incomprehensibly great and glorious Being is the object of the Christian's joy : and must not that joy, which terminates on such an object, be preferable to any other? Must not our joy vary with its object; be low or high, mean or excellent, in propor-
SEti. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 2ll
tioa to it ? Consequently, where the object is of infinite worth, must not the j 03^ have a kind of infinity in it; a vakie, a grandeur, a subhmity, which is unspeakable ? must diot that joy, which embraces and exults in such a pure, immutable, allsufficient, inexhaustible source of excellence and good, partake in some measure of, or at least correspond with, the divine properties of its object, and so be a pure, permanent, satisfying, overflow ing spring of delight ?
Especially when we consider, that the seat of this jov is the noblest in its kind as well, as the object : for it dwells in the highest and purest region of the soul. The soul is superior to the ^\hole world. As much su- perior is the soul to itself, when it rejoices in the Lord, beyond what it is when it rejoices in earthly good. Its subliinest faculties, raised and refined by the grace of God, and acting in the most perfect manner, are requi- site, to apprehend and enjoy this most transcendent Ob- ject. The soul lets itself down, and contracts its thoughts and designs in con^^ersing with other objects ; but here it sw^ells, and dilates all its powers and passions. In most other joys, it stoops beneath itself; here it rises above itself, above its natural pitch. The Spirit of God opens the eyes of the understanding, sheds a supernatural light upon it, awakens its latent powers, and endues it with new activity. The abode of this sacred joy is not like this inferior region, where the atmosphere is thick, frequently void of light, and engenders storms and tempests, and a variety of diseases ; but like the superior part of the heavens, \\ here there is perpetual day, and undisturbed calm, and the etherial fluid is un- mixed and unpolluted. Such is the scat of this holy joy compared with that where sensual appetites and jo\s are placed.
i i
212 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIII.
Let me add, that the effects of this joy are most ex- tensive, beneficial, and lasting. " The joy of the Lord is our strength." It fortifies the soul, and inspires a vigour and courage unknown to others, which make it victorious over all the power of the enemy. It is ex- ceedingly perfective of our nature ; begets high aims, generous sentiments and dispositions, holy desires and aspirations. Nothing can impro\e the mind like this divine joy ; like the contemplation of God and delight- ing in him. It brings the soul nearer to God, both in holiness and happiness. This joy is not confined to place or time. God being every where, we can every where rejoice in him. Being the disposer of our con- dition, whatever it be, we can, in every condition, re- joice in him. Whatever else we are doing, if it be not displeasing to God, we may still rejoice in him. This joy is never unseasonable, never out of place; and (which crowns all) never decays. The im.pression is not fleeting and transient, as in other joys ; but durable like the soul, and everlasting as the foundation on ^vhich it rests. All v/hich shews the greatness and excellence of this privilege and felicity.
Secondly. It is a privilege peculiar to real saints ; thej- only are qualified for, and entitled to diis joy. No othei-s have the recjuisite qualifications ; which are, like- ness and love to the Object. A likeness of temper and manners is the main foundation and cement of human friendships ; which are seldom carried to any height, and still seldomer prove lasting, \\ here the parties do not agree in their reigning inclinations. The same is stiJl more necessary in this divine friendship bet\\een God and the soul : for the soul is utterly incapable of de- liditin<r in God, and God in the soul, till his image is drawn anew upoii it, and they both relish and delight.
Ser. XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 213
ill the same things. Then, and not before, they will delight in each other. Now since diis is true of none but renewed, sanctified persons, the privilege of rejoic- ing in God is necessai'ily limited to them ; and so much the more as likeness is ever joined with love. Can we rejoice in God, while we do not Io\e him? Or can ^ve love him, while we are prevailingly unlike and con- trary to him ? What enjoyment can there be without iove ? What love without mutual resemblance ?
It is a contradiction that beings should at the same time hate and delight in one another. But this is the state of all natural men. There is a mutual hatred between God and them ; they hate God, as a holy, just, sin rc\^enging Govenor and Judge ; and he abhors them as unholy, wicked creatures : and the enmity, being mu- tual, must be an everlasting bar to mutual joy. But every renewed, pious soul loves God, is a hearty friend to his character and interest; and hereby becomes, as it were, one with him, and thus rejoicesin his perfection, glo- ry and blessedness, as if they were its own. It longs to unite with God perfectly, to glorify and enjoy him in the highest possible degree : and by these holy, loving desires after perfect enjoyment, it enjoys him even now in part; for these aspirations of divine love and joy are an earn- est and prelibation of perfect, beatific fruition in glory.
And, as this spiritual joy must be peculiar to the up- right, because they alone are capable of it, being the on- ly persons qualified for it, so they only have a tide to it. For the same holy dispositions, which constitute our qual- ifications for diis privilege, are required by God as con- ditions of our right to it. And with very good reason ; for certainly it would not become the Divine Wisdom to give a man a title to a thing, for which he was not prepar- ed, were it for no other reason than this, that a right in
214 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIlt
this case, though to the greatest treasure in the universe, could be of no advantage, any more than the gift of light to the blind.
In short, none are entitled by di\'ine constitution to the privilege of rejoicing in the Lord, but those \\ho have an interest in Christ. If we Christians "joy in God," it is " through our Lord Jesus Christ," by whom we have receixed the atonement. Christ has made atone- ment for the sins of mankind ; but all have not received the atonement, have not complied with the true spirit and design of it, and with the appointed conditions of an interest in it; consequently, all such persons are as much in a state of guilt and condemnation, as if no atonement had been made and offered, and therefore have no right to joy in God through Christ. Here the mighty difference betw-een the happy few and the v/retchcd multitude takes its rise. But few are cordial friends to a crucified, atoning Saviour ; but few have that humble, penitent, affectionate f:iith in him, vrhich is connected ■with a saving union to his person, and title to his benefits. But few therefore are in a pardoned, justified state, and so have a right to call God t/icir God and portion, and to gbry and triumph in him as such. The greater num- ber even of nominal Cir/istians, being (as it is to be fear-, ed) " without Christ," of course neither have aright to, nor a moral capacit)^ for, rejoicing in the Lord.
Having seen that it is the privilege of good men to re- joice in God, it remains that we shew,
Thirdlv, That it is also their duty thus to rejoice. That jov, which religion confers, as a privilege and felici- ty, it commands us to accept, to cherish, and improve. It requires the daily exercise of holy joy, as a necessary proof of our sincerity ; since v. ithout this our religion mw^X be essentially deficient, both in principle and practice.
See, XVIII.] RELIGIOUS JOY. 215
First, in principle ; for did uiith, or hope, or love rule the heart, they could not tail to produce pleasure and joy in the service of God. We naturally delight in con- templating, pleasing, imitating, and honouring a friend u horn we love. If then we feel no habitual joy in God, it argues the w^ant of love to him. So that if we exclude joy in God from our religion, w'e shut out love, and have no motives to it but fear and self-interest, which are low and unsuitable principles, on which to serve and obey such a Being as the infinite Jehovah? a Being, who deserves and demands our hearts, yea, our wliolc heart, and soul, and mind, and strength.
Secondly, m practice: for neither life, zeal, nor perse- verance in duty are to be expected from him, whose heart js a stranger to delight in God and his w-ays. He applies himself to religion as a task. He dreads the taskmaster, but will labour no more than necessity re- quires. Such a religion as this is essentially dift'erent from the homage of him, w ho worships the Father in spirit and in truth.
Estimate then the genuineness of your religion, both in principle and practice, by the satisfaction and joy which you find in God and his service. Be assured, that where your treasure is, there will your highest joy be. As the worldly man rejoices in his earthly pos- sessions, the voluptuous man in his sensual pleasures, and the social in his friends and companions ; so the truly good man rejoices in his God, in the di- vine perfections, government, precepts, and promises. This is M'hat he owes both to God and religion, to him- self, and to others.
Hence in order to reach this attainment or practise this duty in the happiest manner, he ought to take every step, which may tend to beget, maintain, and increase
216 RELIGIOUS JOY. Ser. XVIII.j
this holy joy, or to put his mind into a right frame for the exercise of it. As,
First, He ought to make his calling and election sure ; and by impartial seif-inqairy come to a decision of the great question, whose servant or child he is. For if he is the true child and ser\ ant of God, nothing is necessa- ry to his rejoicing in him, but his knowing it. If I know that God is my father, and that I serve him as a son serveth his father, from a pure, filial aifection to him, as the principle of my obedience, and in hope of his paternal acceptance and favour, as the utmost re- ward of it ; it is impossible but that I should esteem this a reasonable ground of joy in God, and as such derive high satisfaction from it. It is therefore my duty to en- deavour to know this, and not remain uncertain in a con- cern of such iniinite moment, ^hen I may with due care and pains arri\e at satisfaction in it.
*' No man knoweth the things of a man, but the spirit of a man which is in him ;" which implies that the spir- it of a man may know its own things, if it apply itself diligently to know them. And what are those things of SL man, \\ hich the spirit ^vithin him may come to under- stand ? What but the things \vhicli most ncarlv concern him, the things of his pc;ace, the things M'hich accom- pany salvation P And how shall his spirit know these things, but by descending into itself, and comnum- irjg with itself ; examining wiiat is the chief ob- ject of its love and hatred ; which way it most strongly inclines ; >vhat it sets up as its supreme good, and by what, in case of competition, he would alnde, so as to part with all other things to secure it ? Can I sa}', that God is my center and my end ; the end of all my actions, and the center of my rest? If so, I have reason to conclude, and rejoice in my sincerity, and
Ser. XVIII.3 RELIGIOUS JOY. -217
to rejoice in God, as approving and accepting me ! This then is the first duty of Christians in this affair, to en- deavour to be satisfied of their right to rejoice in God, in order to their being about actually to do it.
Secondly. It is their duty to remove out of the way Avhatever they have found, or have reason to think, is a, hinderance to this holy joy ; particularly, a multitude of worldly cares, and a too free indulgence of Vvorldly joys.
Worldly cares, when they run high and grow numer- ous, prey upon the very life and strength of the soul : its force is spent upon them, so that it has no spirit left for the exercises of devotion ; and when duties are spirit- less, no wonder they are joyless too. Good men are of- ten Aery fault}^ in this matter : they care for the things of the world more than they need or ought : they have too many cares, or they sink too deep into their hearts. Such persons should not wonder that they receive no more satisfaction from meditating on divine objects, which in themselves are adapted to give the most exquis- ite delight. They must discharge the train of cumberous cares, which now absorb their minds, before the joy of the Lord will enter and possess them.
They must also beware of a too free indulgence of worldly and sensitive Jqy^-, even those which are in them- selves innocent : for this is not the only thing to be considered by the Christian ; namely, the bare lawful- ness of any pleasure or satisfaction, abstractedly taken : but do I give myself up to it ? If not wholly, yet to a much greater degree than I should ? By these means it gets the mastery of my soul ; takes up the room which ought to be filled with better entertainments, sensualizes and debases my taste, and therel:)y indisposes me for the fruition of diose purer joys, which religion bestows on all, who truly desire and seek them. It is very true that
iJ18 Ul'.l.KllOUS JOV. fSi.u. WItf
DthiT i<>y;s N\li>'ii of :i !a\\|'iil iialuic, aiul lawliilh iisid, i. c. willi in;)iliTatl(vi, arc siil)si'i\ iciil (o hIIimou, ami j)ron»olc our joy in (lod. Hn! ii is I'ar oiIk rwi ,c, wlicn wc make plcasurr (it ;m\ kiiul not so iniicli (uir (Unci . sitMi, as our husliuss; whviidur pas.si()n^. aic \\aiinl\' eni^a}?;v'il l)\' it, aiul we art- no loiifc r ras\ tliau wli'ilc oiii- ciri'unjstnnec!) cnaliK* us to commaiul llu' rciunis ol" it. Ki lik.';ious joy has i\ hap^N nitlumcr (»n om coininon joN s, to f^'uiilc and ino(l("Vati' tlicm : ami ulun ii lias not this cfl'ont, l);it lhron|';li our o\\ n ni'|dl'!,e'n(U', oi- [\\c j;;-t'al i'nyvc ortoinpttition to sc-ns\i:\l plcasinc, the iicarl Ifls itstH'oiil. to lliosc low (UTi'vlits, such iUslilv pleasures have a sad innu(Mircon our reli;';ii)us joys, so that the stream .ihates in fills channel in tlu- same iJioporlion, as it swells in till- olhca-; lor i( cannot at the ^.anl(• time lise to any j;reat lu'isdit in holh.
ThlrdU. Il i'. tlu- dntv oi' ('hiislians t(» .s7/V ///> ///('ir .V(»///.v to icjoiee in llu' Lord. 'I'lu v ait- not to allow lh(-ni',tl\t s in a heartless, uielaneholy IVamc- : tiny Muist not }<;l\e \\a\ lo it, as if il \\(-re a tt'miur of mind aeeeptaMe to Covl and ei(dit:il»L- to u Tis^'ion ; hnt must e\ulea\onf to ehid>' lluni rUcs (Mil ol it, i-\postiiIatiii'!j A\ilh lluir own souls, as the psalmist <lo( s with his. *' \\ h\' art thoii east down, () m^ soul, and why ait thou ilis(|niel( <! widun me ' liopi- ihoii in (i(ul, for I shall \ et praiM' him, who ]•, die lualthol m\ e»iunte- uanee and ni\ (lod." 'I'Iu-n oii;;ht to arise and exert alltlu-ir \i.';-oiir in eoml>alinj.;- and expelliu};' these j'loomy, uielanehoh idras and passions, which are siieh I'liemii-s lo iht- peace ol" tlu ir soul ., and the plt-a>.iiri- and eu-dit ol" their rili[;ion. 1 1 llu \ will not seek eomrort with dili«.;-enei- in (lOiPs \\a;. , how tan they expect to lind il ? Do the) think that dod will, l>y an extraordinary op- eration of his Sp'iiit, eieat(.' a hil'dil and piacelul ilay
ser. xviil] religious joy. 219
within them, while they do all they can to hinder its admission ? Are they not in this case guilty at once of inexcuseable sloth and presumption, and justly punished with a denial of that joy, which they do not labour to obtain ?
Fourthly. They must make this a frequent petition in their addresses to the throne of grace, that God would" give them the joy of his salvation, and uphold them with his free Spirit : that he, who is the Father of liglits, would dart some beams of heavenly light into their souls, that they may not sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, but walk and rejoice in the light of life : that he, \vho is the fountain of comfort and blessedness, would speak peace to their troubled thoughts, would calm their tumultuous passions, and enable them to act all the graces, perform all the duties, and enjoy all the entertainments of the divine life, with high relish and delight. " Thou hast made it my duty, O my God, to rejoice in thee. And since thou hast made it my duty, I believe thou art ready to give me grace to perform it. I therefore apply to thee for light to guide me continually in that course, which will bring me this inward joy."
These are some of the steps, which Christians may and should take, in order to be in the best preparation and disposition of mind for rejoicing in the Lord. And that all this is their incumbent duty, is evident, not only from the text and similar precepts, but from such considerations as these :
First. The credit of religion obliges them to it. What w ill the enemies of God and religion say, when they see the most conscientious friends to both, appear- ing from day to day with a visible sadness and gloom on their countenances and deportmenc, as if they had no eujovment of themseh'es \ but were -Kome of the most K k
2^0 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIII.
forlorn and wretched of mortals ? Will they not be apt to say, surely the yoke of Christ is not what he has represented it, an easy yoke, and his burden light : no ; his service must be a wearisome, or at best an insipid thing. And not only the professed enemies of religion will be tempted to talk in this strain, but others too, who might have embraced a life of virtue and piety, had it not been held up to them in so frightful a dress by the notions and behaviour of some well meaning but mis- taking Christians ; these too will be prejudiced against religion. They, of all men, have the fairest title to, and the greatest reason, capacity, and fund of joy and de- light ; for who should rejoice, if they do not and must riot, who act up to their character as men and as Chris- tians ; vv^ho in the main keep a good conscience both to- ward God and man ? Joy and satisfaction are the natural as well, as promised reward of such a life. Who should rejoice, if they may not, who have God for their chief good and felicity, Christ for their way to it, the Holy Spirit as their qualifier for and earnest of it, and heaven for their everlasting home, in which they are to possess and enjoy it ? How can such persons reflect on ajl this, and not rejoice? Certainly, they would be ei^vceedingly to be blamed, if they did not rejoice.
.And if there be this inward joy, it will express itself in the outward con\'ersation. An easy mind, a content- t^d, joyful heart cannot be concealed. All a man's words and actions will be tinctured with it. Like the oint- ment of the right hmd (a sweet perfume, chafed with the heat of the hand) it will bewray itself, and diftuse its fragrance all around. And it is fit ^ that it should. Christians ought not, if able, to throw a veil of pensive sadness over the tranquillity and joy of their hearts. This would not be humility, but affectation : it
Ser. XVm.l RELIGIOUS JOY. 22.1
would not adorn religion, but disgrace it ; and conse- quently would not be pleasing and honourary to God, but the reverse.
Secondly. The Spirit is communicated for this end, that we might rejoice in the Lord; and is therefore called " the Comforter ^ And as this, so his other titles, of a "free Spirit," the " Spiritof adoption^," the "Spirit of glory," all signify his being imparted with this de- sign, that we should lejoice and glory in that blessed state into which by the grace of God we are translated. The fruit of the Spirit is love, and joy, and peace. These are the affections, which constitute happiness; and these are the affections, which both the gospel and the Spirit of Christ are given to raise and promote. Christians are bound to love God and one another ; and where this divine affection is triumphant, joy and peace are always found in its train.
Then let not any of the followers of Christ entertain such an erroneous thought, as if a sorrowful, dejected spirit, were the true, the genuine spirit of Christianity. Sorrow for sin, there ought to be ; but this sorrow^ when it is after a godly sort, is not inconsistent with joy, but implies and produces it. It implies it, as it involves the exercise of love to God, whom by sin we have offend- ed, a pleasing faith, and hope in liis forgiving mercy through the Mediator, the acting and consciousness of a right disposition toward sin and holiness : all which af- ford immediate and unspeakable delight. It produces it, as it is the condition and evidence of a state of pardon and peace with God. On both accounts, godly sorrow, far from excluding, is the seed of spiritual joy.
Thirdly. This joy tends very much to the advance- ment of the divine hfe in the soul. In this sense, the joy of the Lord is the strength of the righteous. It greatly
222 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Seb. XVIII.
confirms them in the ways of piety, fortifies their holy resokitions, and supports them in times of trouble. The Christian, whose religion yields him little or no peace and pleasure, is not so likely to be zealously af- fected in it, or to go on with any speed toward perfec- tion.
Would you then abound in the ^^'ork of the Lord, and in the fruits of righteousness to his glory ? Would you have all the powers of your soul invigorated ? Would you improve in every divine %irtue, and perform every duty in the most acceptable manner ? Then labour to keep up a spirit of holy joy and cheerfulness. It is your duty to do this as much, as it is your duty to be still advancing in religion ; since you cannot expect the latter without the former. Is not the Cliristian life represent- ed as a race and a pilgrimage ? Are we not travelling to- ward Zion? But what speed can we make with a continual load of sadness and dejection upon our spirits ? How can we run the race set before us ? How be other- w ise than \\eary and faint in our minds ? Wherefore let us lift up the hands that hang down and the feeble knees, and make straight paths for our feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way. Let us thus rejoice in God through Jesus Christ, though not without a hum- bling sense of our great un\^orthiness and numberless defects. Then we shall find ourselves much more live- ly and active in religion ; and being freed fi'om that bur- den, under which we were before ready to sink, shall run in the way of God's commands, and mount up to- ward heaven as on the wings of eagles,
improvemf:nt.
In thefrst place, Avhat a charming idea docs our sub- ject give of true religion, especially under the Christian
Ser. XVIIL] religious joy. 223
dispensation ! Even under all the darkness, restrictions, and terrors of the law, good men were acquainted with spiritual jo}^ ; and some of them on ancient record, particulai-ly David, expressed their holy joy, in the most elevated language. But under the gospel, religion ap- pears in its brightest and fairest light, and is eminently adapted to beget all joy and peace, in those who believe and duly entertain it. No one can think or speak evil of the religion of Christ, who rightly understands it. For what is its main design, but to restore us to God and to ourselves, to our true perfection and happiness ? Let us only, at present, take notice of its tendency to promote our well being, both in this life and the next, by the provision it has made for the due government and exer- cise of our affections. These affections may be con- sidered with regard both to action and enjoyment.
The two chief springs of action are hope and fear ; tlie two principal sources of enjoyment, or ingredients of felicity, are love and joy. As to the first pair of these affections, no religion can possibly be better adapted to awaken and regulate these, than the Christian. For what will awaken our hope, if the prospect of such a blessedness as the gospel sets before us, which is con- summate and endless, will not do it ? What can reason- ably awaken our fears, like the wrath of God revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness and ungodliness of men ? And what method can be proposed for the reg- ulation of our other hopes and fears, so likely and effec- tual as this, of making them all subservient to those hopes and fears, which terminate on things invisible and eternal ? And the end of exciting our fear as well, as hope, being this, that wa may hereby be engaged to a right temper and conduct, the gospel, CAcn in its threatenings as well, as promises, has a very benign and friendly as- pect.
224 RELIGIOUS JOY. {Ser. XVIII.
,7'The same may be remarked concerning our love and joy, Oil which our fruition of happiness more immediate- ly depends. Were our souls under the powerful influ- ence of that love, which the gospel aims to kindle in our breasts, the love of God and of Jesus ; and did we ex- perience more of that inward joy, to which ^ve are so fre- quently and earnestly invited by God himself, we should be more truly and eminently happy, than we now are ; and should not be in so much danger of pursuing the empty, fugitive phantoms of happiness, which this world presents. I may 'add, the higher degrees we enjoyed of this divine happiness, the more steady and unshaken would be the adherence of our souls to the supreme good ; and the main objects of our love and joy, being wisely chosen and deeply fixed, would so direct and overrule our love of inferior things and delight in them, as to keep them within the bounds of reason ; be- yond which they only occasion greater disquietude and vexation.
What just ground, then, can any have to entertain an ill opinion of religion, of the Christian religion? It is true Christianity obliges us to mortify our members which are upon the earth. But these members are only certain excrescences of our nature, irregular lusts and passions, which are as incompatible with our peace and happiness^ as with our duty. " Mortify }'our mem- bers which' kt€ on the earth, fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetous - ness, which is idolatry." This shows, that though these cortupt inclinations are siyled our members, they do not belong to- oar primitive or our renewed nature, but only to the corruption, of it. It is further QTanted, that Christianity^ can ies ^'irtue to its highest pitch ; that it enjoins such heights of purity and divine lo^e, that it is
SEk. XVm.) RELIGIOUS JOYt. 225
no easy thing to be a Christian indeed. But what does this prove ? Not that the religion of Jesus is not adapt- ed to the feUcity of this life, but the reverse ; for it lays no other burden upon us, than what is, in its own na- ture, reasonable, necessary, and beneficial, and what would be no burden at all, were it not for our own de- pravity. It aims only to remove what would incapaci- tate us for true pleasure ; and when it obliges us to be holy in all manner of conversation, to be perfect and pure as God and Christ are ; it does it upon this ground, that such holiness and perfection are the true glory and happiness of our reasonable natures, which alone can enable us to rejoice in God. Godhness has the promise of this life as well, as of that which is to come ; not in- deed of th^e pride and incumbrance of life, of worldly affluence, greatness, pleasure ; but of that happiness, which suits a reasonable nature, and the design of our Christian profession.
In short, the glory of God in the happiness of men is the great object and end of Christianity, in the whole system of its doctrines, precepts and sanctions. It is true that our everlasting happiness in the next life ias principally intended, as it ought to be ; but then the happiness of thir^ life is consulted and promoted as far, as is consistent with the other, which is infinitely more important. And I may safely afurm, that it is richly worthy of tlie wisest man's choice to be a Christian, merely on the score of the present felicity, which attends such a character.
In the second place ^ are we acquainted with that habit- ual, holy joy in the Lord, which is the peculiar charac- ter and privilege as well, as the constant duty of the righteous ? Is God himself, in the infinite glory of his perfections and government, the primary object of our
226 RELIGIOUS JOY. [Ser. XVIII.
joy ? Can we cordially rejoice in every thing, which re- lates to this most excellent Being? Does our joy in God possess a decided superiority over, and, as it were, perfume and consecrate, all our other joys ? And is it a constant and permanent thing ? Are we qualified and capacitated for this spiritual joy, by a prevailing like- ness and love to the object ? Arc we entitled to it by a vital union to Christ, the great medium and procurer of this privilege ?
/// the third place ^ to such as find themselves desti- tute of any title to, qualifications for, or experience of, this joy, let me briefly say ; Your condition at present resembles that of the starving prodigal in a strange land, at a distance from his father's house, associatbig with swine, feeding upon husks, perishing with hunger. Perhaps some of you are now triumphing in the pleasing enjoyments and prospects, ^vhich a flattering world pre- sents to her prosperous votaries, especially in the liloom- ing gaiet}' of youthful life. But, my friends, look for- ward to the end of this bright and fascinating career of worldly joy. Ask the child of earthly pleasure on his deatH bed, whether this is the course he would recom- mend to his children and friends ; whether with his dy- ing breath he can assure them, that these gratifications really form the greatest enjoyment of life ? Will he not tell you, from his own experience, that they are all vani- ty and vexation ; that they are in themselves treach- erous, unsound, hollow, disturbed in the very moment i>\ enjoyment ; that in the midst of such laughter the heart is sorrowful ; that the smile of gaiety is often as- sumed, while the heart aches ^^'ithin ? Whereas relig- ion, by bringing back the wandering soul to God, and ])lacing its love, and hope, and joy in him, produces a heartfelt, habitual, and satisfying delight, a cahn, serene
Ser. XVIIL] religious joy. 227
enjoyment, a steady light, shining like that of the sun, more and more unto the perfect day.
Let me, then, earnestly invite and press you to come, taste, and see how good the Lord is ; to come, eat of wisdom's bread, and drink of the \^'ine, which she has mingled. Let me call on all those, who have hith- erto ^\'alkcd in the way of their own hearts, and have no other pleasures than those, which are merely sensual and earthly, or at best, have been strangers to the superior delights of communion with God ; to all such I call, to seek after that divine joy, which religion offers and gives to her children. Oh, seek after that renovation of heart to the likeness and love of God, which is necessary to prepare you to relish and delight in his holy and glori- ous character. Seek after that faith and interest in Christ, which are requisite to entitle you to this joy. Every motive, taken from time and from eternity, urges you to this ; for your whole happiness in bodi is con- cerned and wrapped up in it.
Finally. Let true Christians permit me to be their monitor, as to their privilege and duty in this instance. Oh, what a singular privilege do you possess, of being able to rejoice in the Lord, to rejoice in him at all times, in all circumstances ! Oh, bless God for making this delightful exercise your constant duty, and thus twisting, or rather uniting, your business and happiness together in one point ! What an additional motive is here to the love of God, who has pleasure in the prosper- ity and joy of his servants ! Oh, love the Lord therefore all ye his servants, and constantly delight in him. Let joyful thanksgiving and praise be a main part of your employment here, as it v.ill be your v.hole and eternal employment in heaven. Watch against every thing, l1
228 RELIGIOUS JOY, [Ser. XVIIL
which would indispose you for the enjoyments of the divine life ; and remember, that by intermitting the ex- ercises of the heavenly life you rob yourselves of its pleasures. If any of you, by sloth, carnal indul- gences, or any other means, have lost that liveliness and joy in God and religion, which you once had, call to mind whence you are fallen, and wliat you have lost, and repent, and set yourselves to do your first works, and re- gain your first love, that you may recover your former joy. Thus, from time to time, you should recollect yourselves, examine the state of your souls, repair any decays, correct any slips you have made, and stir up yourselves to take hold of God and his strength. You have always reason to suspect, that things are greatly amiss within you, when you can take as much pleasure as usual, or more, in other things, but not in God or re- ligion. Oh, seek then to have the joy of the Lord for your constant food and strength ; that, under its influ- ence, you may mount up with w^ings as eagles, and be- ripening fast for perfect union, love, and enjoyment m heaven.
Sermon xix.
Delivered at a Concert of Praycro
Matthew vi. 9, 10.
Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come ; thy ivill be done 171 earthy as it is in heaven.
X HAT divine form of devotion, of which these words are a part, is equally distinguished for its brevity and fulness, its plainness and grandeur, its universal suitableness and importance. In these several respects, it unspeakably transcends the highest productions of man. While it unites the interests of heaven and earth, of time and eternity, in six short petitions ; it is remark- able that three of these, which compose the first part of the prayer, centre in one great object, viz. the declar- ative glory of God, consisting in the universal prosper- ity of his kingdom, and advanced by the general obe- dience, order, and happiness of his moral subjects. And as the beginning, so the conclusion of this de- vout summary, is consecrated to this object; for it closes with ascribing the kingdom, the power, and glory to the Deity ; and by its significant a?ncn, it sums up the feelings of the petitioner in a strong desire and as- surance, that God will manifest this his power and glory in the universal establishment of his spiritual kingdom. The words, then, which I have placed at the head of this discourse, and which comprise the first and crown- ing part of this perfect model of supplication, are emi- IWMtly suited to the present occasion j which is not only
230 ON PRAYER. [Seu. XIX.
a season of united prayer, but is expressly de\'oted to the object here recommended, viz. the advancement of Christ's kingdom in our world. That our prayers on a subject so sublime and interesting, and our future con- duct pursuant to tliem, may be properly directed and animated, let us attend to the leading instructions, sug- gested to us in the concise, but weighty petitions above recited. " Hallowed be thy name ; thy kingdom come ; thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."
As names are emplojed to signify, or con\'ey the knowledge of things, so the name of God, in the text, signifies the Deity himself, as made known by his word, institutions and works. When God was pleased, at the request of his favourite servant, to proclaim his name and to show his glory ; these were the ingredient-s of that comprehensive display — " The Lord, the Lord God, gracious and merciful, long suffering, and abun- dant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thous- ands, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, and who will by no means clear the guilty." This diyine name, announced to Moses, and more obscurely published by the ancient prophets, is fully illustrated by Jesus Christ, by the vrhole series of his actions, suflerings and doc- trines ; which unitedly exhibit the rich and endearing mercy of Jehovah, in connexion with his awful majesty, justice and truth. While the law and gospel thus pub- lish the name of God, his various works of nature, providence and grace, by harmonizing with and fulfill- ing his word, add lustre and confirmation to every part of his revealed name, and spread abroad its glory, as the earth and planets receive and refiect the splendour of tlie sun.
Accordingly, God's name is hallo-ivcd or consecrated, when it is conspicuously and eminently honoured ; just
Ser. XIX.] on prayer. 231 .
as the consecrated persons and things under the law were peculiarly dignified by their separation to holy purposes. To pray, therefore, for the sanctification of the divine name, implies a request, that the various at- tributes, which compose this name, may be displayed and extolled by the whole created universe : in partic- ular, that intelligent creatures, especially the human race, may unitedly ofier to their Creator those inward senti- ments and outward expressions of veneration and love> which are most suitable and honourary to so glorious an object, and which best comport with the various dis- coveries of his character ; and finally, that he would make all things, even the partial and temporary evils of our system, ultimately conduce to the greatest glory of his name.
The two next clauses of the text, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done," are intimately connected with the first, as means vrith the end. By God's kingdom here is intended, not his general providential govern- ment, which has been erected and administered from the creation, and whose coming therefore is not an object of prayer ; but his mediatorial and gracious kingdom^ This comprehends that external administration, by which he calls men to the profession of the true religion, and gives them outward laws, ordinances, and privileges ; also that internal dominion, by which he effectually sub- dues, sanctifies, and comforts their hearts, and which the apostle accordingly describes, as consisting in righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; and finally, that heavenly ^tate of glory, which is the perfec- tion of the two former ; for the kingdom of God on earth, both in its \'isible and invisible duties and bless- ings, is but a handmaid, or a preparatory discipline to the kingdom of heaven.
235 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX.
When, therefore, we pray that God's kingdom may come, we request the universal spread of the gospel, both in its external and inward dispensation, and the consequent reign of virtue, peace, and felicity, through the whole family of mankind. We ask the full ac- complishment of the great plan of mediatorial mercy, not only in the expected glory of the latter days, but in the f'dx more glorious and happy state of things which will finally succeed. And since the honour of a king- as well, as the beauty and happiness of his empire, great- ly depends on the prompt and entire obedience of his subjects ; we pray that the vvill of our divine Sovereign may be done on earth, as it is in heaven ; that is, that it may be performed by us, and b}'' mankind at large, in a manner resembling, as nearly as possible, the obedience of celestial spirits ; with the same speed and alacrity, purity and exactness, humility and veneration, constancy and fervour.
As these several petitions thus point to the work of redemption, or the Christian interest, and pray for its general triumph ; so they remarkably suit each succes- sive period, or varying condition of the church, from the beginning to this day. During the patriarchal and Mosaic dispensations, the coming of God's kingdom under the promised Messiah was the immediate anel great object of prayer to the Old Testament saints. When the Messiah appeared, and began to erect his gos- pel kingdom^ the immediate object of the petitions be- fore us, as presented to, and used by, his primitive disci- ples, was the extension of this new dispensation from Judea throughout the world. W^e, in this later period of the world, being presented by the word and provi- dence of God, with the near prospect of a still more glorious dispensation of grace, in a far more general
Ses. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 233
diftasion than has yet existed, of the Christian doctrine and spirit ; we are hereby directed to apply the petitions before us more immediately to this approaching event : while those, who shall enjoy this expected, happy dispensation, will still long and pray for the more illustri- ous and fnial coming of Christ in his kingdom of glory.
Having briefly illustrated the prayer of our text, let us attend more distinctly to its superior importance ; or to tlie sacred motives and obligations, which persuade us to adopt it.
In the first place, the rank which it bears in this divine pattern of devotion proclaims its peculiar moment. The interest and honour of God^s name and kingdom are justly held up as the beginning, centre, and end of die Lord's prajer, both because the perfections and glory of the Supreme Being deservedly claim our first and supreme attention ; and because true love to him, which is the soul of religion and of acceptable prayer, unites the heart to his interest, as its principal object ; and of course makes it desire above all tilings the prosperity of the Redeemer's kingdom.
The scripture represents the work of redemption, as the greatest of divine operations, and as giving the most perfect display of the divine character, as reflecting trans- cendent glor}' on all the persons and perfections of Deity. Consequently, the more this work flourishes, or the more eminently the kingdom of grace prevails, the more splendid is the triumph of the divine name ; the larger is the revenue of glory to the Father, the Son, and the Ho- ly Ghost. Must not every soul, which possesses the genuine feelings of piety, be instantly warmed by this consideration into ardent prayers and eflforts for the ad- vancement of Christ's kingdom ? The prophet Isaiah, having a distant glimpse of the surprising glory, which
234 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX.
would redound to the blessed God by the redemption of man, is so enraptured by it, that he fervently calls even upon inanimate nature, to burst forth into joyful praise on the great occasion — " Sing, oh heavens, for the Lord hath done it ; shout, ye lower parts of the earth : break forth into singing, ye mountains, oh forest, and every tree therein ; for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and glorified liimself'va Israel."
How peculiarly incumbent, then, is it upon ns^ who are at once God's rational creatures, and the special objects of his glorious redeeming mercy, to begin and end all ciu' offices of devotion, with fervent praises for the work of redemption, and with earnest prayers for its promised, more extensive success ! How important is it, that this object should pervade and sanctify the whole contexture of our devotions on every occasion, especially such as the present ! Otherwise, our relig- ious addresses will proceed on a wrong principle, and breathe an improper and selfish spirit.
The reason of things as well, as the arrangement of the Lord's prayer, instructs us to ask for other bles- sings chiefly as means to this governing end ; to ask our daily bread, or needed external good, not merely as an instrument of animal, much less of sinful gratifica- tion ; but as requisite or conducive to our serving the purposes of his kingdom ; yea, to beg the forgiveness of our sins, and delix-erance from temptation and all evil, not barely for selfish ends, but that God's honour and kingdom may be promoted by our pardon, sanc- tification, and final happiness, and by our correspon- dent, everlasting returns of service and praise.
In a word, the petitions in the text are of such prima- ry importance, that they .ouglit both to consecrate and limit all our other desires ; so that we should feel will-
Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER, 235
ing to be denied in the latter so far, as they happen to interfere with the former. Those petitions, indeed, the grant of which is essential to our final happiness, are always consistent, yea, inseparably united, with the glory of God and the interest of the Redeemer ; so, that in jiroperly seeking the one, we necessarily seek and se- cure the other. But diose requests, which respect tem- poral good, or some non-essential circumstances of spir- itual blessings, may not be always consistent with the grand object of prayer in the text ; in which case, they must be cheerfully submitted and sacrificed to it. In this case, the denial of our private inferior petitions is, on the whole, the best fulfilment and reward of our prayer ; because it gratifies and recompenses our first, disinterested, and crowning request.
Our Saviour prayed earnestly, that the bitter cup of crucifixion might pass from him, yet viith perfect sub- mission to the will and glory of his Father. His par- ticular request was refused ; because the honour of God's decrees, predictions, and attributes in the re- demption of man, demanded his death. Yet we are told, in the fifth chapter to the Hebrews, that " he was heard in these his strong supplications and tears ;" that is, his governing desire was granted. His Father, by quickly exalting him from the grave to his own right hand, and giving him to see of the travail of his soul to his abundant satisfaction, rewarded him with a far great- er good, than that v^hich he had previously denied.
Which leads us to observe, that the proper recom- pense and joy of the Redeemer are greatly concerned in the petitions before us. The heart of Christ was so perfectly engaged for his Father's honour and kingdom, as connected \vith our redemption, that he freely sub- mitted to innnense humiliation ajid sufferings to secure M m
236 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX,
these invaluable ends. This was, in a great degree, the joy set before him, for which he endured the cross, and despised the shame. A leading promise made to him by his Father was, that he should see his seed, and that the pleasure of the Lord should prosper in his hand ; that all nations should serve him ; that every Knee and tongue should pay him homage. Wlien we consider how richly Christ lias merited this promised reward ; how much he laboured, prayed, and suffered in order to obtain it ; Avhat an eminent claim jje had to be exalted both by God and man, who has done and i«dured so much for the interests of both : when we contemplate these things, can we avoid feeling the strongest incentives to pray for that, which is the fa- vourite object, recompense, and harvest of all his toils^ and sufferings !
Especially when we add, that the advancement of Christ^s kingdom is an event unspeakably glorious and happy. It is glorious ; as the character and gov- ernment of this divine King are absolutely perfect. While the dominion of the greatest and best earthly rulers is weak, and mutable, and transitory, liable ta be obstructed and even subverted, by domestic or foreign resistance ; the empire of the Son of God is, like him- self, immoveable and everlasting. While the authority of earthly kings can regulate only the visible conduct, and secure the temporal interests, of their subjects ; the administration of King Jesus controls the secret affec- tions, and insures the spiritual and everlasting felicity of the soul. While many imperfections mark the intellec- tual and moral character, and consequently the official conduct, of the best human governors, and of course render their administration a feeble, precarious, and in- terrupted source of public happiness ; the character of
-Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 237
Messiah, the Prince, combines unerring wisdom to plan, ahnighty power to execute, invariable justice, benevo- lence, and m:€rcy to prompt and direct all his knowl- edge and energy to the highest good of his sub- j-ects^
How transcendent must l>e the prosperity of that holy community, which obeys the .laws, and enjoys the pro- tection, of this glorious Sovereign ! What a golden age of the world must that be, in which his bemQ:n sfoveni- ment shall irnmediately embrace the whole brotlierliood of man ! Figure to yourselves, my hearers, the divine religion of Jesus enthroned in the hearts, in the families, and in all the societies of mankind ! What an aggregate of private and public happiness is the immediate result ! Behold each individual emancipated from the vile and destructive tyranny of sin and Satan, and restored to in- ward fi^edom, purity, and joy ! See every family pos- sessing that domestic harmony and bliss, which flows from mutual love and fidelity among its several mem- bers, and from the constant, delightful experience of the divine benediction upon their common cares, endear- ments, and satisfactions ! Behold every civil society en- joying that public liberty and defence, prosperity and greatness, internal and external peace, which naturally ai'ise from the universal prevalence of private and social virtue among its various members and rulers ! See the benevolent principles of Christianity cementing them all into one harmonious body, and devoting their several functions, their united affections and efforts to the gen- eral welfare! See each member loving his neighbour as himself, cheerfully losing private interest in the public good, steadily practising those personal, patriotic, and divine virtues, which nourish and perfect human soci- ety, and at once zealously promoting, and delightfully
238 ON PllAYER» [Ser. XIX.
enjoying, the virtuous and happy state of every fellow member, and of the community at large !
As these would be the natural fruits of the gospel spirit universally prevailing ; so Christ himself would then be the king and protector of our world in a pecuhar and emi- nent manner. All his high attributes and authority would be exerted for its temporal and spiritual welfare. All the nations would enjoy the direct influences of his wise, efficacious, and benevolent administration, and be mould- ed by it into one vast empire of righteousness and joy. Who, that has any friendship either to God or man, can help exulting at the thought of so glorious and hap- py a scene, and contributing his best wishes and pray- ers for its speedy arrival !
Especially when we consider further, how frequently and expressly the scriptures predict and promise such a blessed period, as we have just described. The Bible often speaks of a time, when the heathen and uttermost parts of the earth shall be given to Christ ; when the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea ; when the fulness of the Gen- tiles shall come in, and all Israel be saved ; when anti- christ shall be destroyed, and Satan bound a thousand years; when war shall universally cease, and piety, peace, and happiness abound through the world ! There is no period in the history of past ages, which corres- ponds with these magnificent, scriptural prophecies. We are, therefore, warranted and encouraged to expect and pray for their future accomplishment, and we ought to pray for it with that assurance of faith, which such express divine declarations require, and with that ardour and constancy, which their excellent and happy import demands.
See. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 239
It is also further to be considered, that tlie whole crea- tion is earnestly waiting, and constantly groaning and travailing in pain for this glorious event. The apostle, in the eighth chapter to the Romans, introduces the whole frame of visible nature, the insensible and brutal as Avell, as intelligent creation, as vehemently desiring, expecting, yea, travailing in pain for this happy period. The general sentiment of this remarkable passage seems to be this ; that man's apostasy has brought such van- ity, disorder, and bondage upon the creation around him ; has subjected them to such an unnatural and mis- erable state from-, the abuse of man and the curse of God, that they may be said to groan under the weight of this servitude, and to pant for liberty ; to groan after a restoration to their primitive perfection and use. This passage further intimates, that when the kingdom of Christ shall come in its glory, all nature shall, in some sense, participate its happy fruits ; all the animal and material creation shall, in a great measure, be rescued from the effects of the curse, and be made to serve the real benefit of man, and the honour of their God. As the prophet represents it, " holiness to the Lord shall be written upon the very bells of the horses, and eveiy pot in Jerusalem shall be holiness to the Lord of hosts." Shall not ive then, whose apostasy has contributed to this debasement and misery of nature, join the general groan and cry of the travailing creation, in ardently praying for its expected, happy deliverance ; whtn not only man, but the creatures connected with him, shall, in some important sense, be regenerated from the bon> dage of corruption unto the glorious liberty of the sons of God?
We may add, that fervent and constant prayer foi- the coming of Christ's kingdom is one of the best proofs
240 ON PRAYER, ^ [Ser. XIX.
of a truly enlarged and benevolent mind, of a spiritual and divine temper. It .is represented in scripture, as the peculiar character of the saint, that he is a friend to Zion ; that he loves, waits, and prays for her prosperity • that, he takes pleasure in tlie very stones of Jerusalem, and favours even the dust thereof. Whence it appears, that a spirit of prayer for the advancement of the Chrisr tian interest is necessary to prove our own Christianity. Without it we have no scriptural evidence, that we liave any true love to Christ, to his church, or to the human race. But affectionate and unceasing supplication for the general spread and success of the gospel at once dis- covers and improves a spirit of friendship to God and the Redeemer, to the Christian religion and church, to the best interests of mankind, and in some sense to the per- fection and felicity of the moral system in general. For the scriptures lead us to think, that the knowledge, vir- tue, and happiness of the A'arious orders of the angelic world, are greatly promoted by the display of divine glory in the design and gradual progress of man's res- toration to holiness and happiness. In praying, there- fore, for this object, we virtually intercede for the uni- verse ; we concur and have fellowship with the infinite- ly benevolent Deity in that, v, hich is his favourite de-r sign ; and thus "we approve ourselves his genuine children.
In short, fervent prayer for the advancement of Christ's kingdom is an exercise equally noble, pleasv ant, and advantageous. It is nobk, as it implies the miost generous, godlike views and desires. It is pleas- ant^ as it expresses and promotes that love to God and his creatures, \\'hich is the very temper of happiness ; and, as it is attended with a delightful consciousness of resembling and pleasing the Being, whom we address,
Ser. XIX.] ON PRAYER. 241
and with a comforting assurance, that our pious and bes- nevolent petitions \\ill be ultimately answered. It is achantageoiis^ as it directly sweetens and exalts our spirits ; as it engages us to such a conduct, or to the careful use of such means, as may best correspond with our prayers, and give them the greatest force and suc- cess ; and, as it is connected, by divine constitution, with the attainment of the important blessing we implore. As prayer, in general, when rightly performed, emi- nently qualifies dependent creatures for the reception of divine favours, and is therefore properly made the con- dition of their bestowment ; so, intercession for our fel- low-creatures, especially for the revival and prevalence of religion among them, is, with great reason, prescribed as a mean of drawing down this infinite blessing. For ' since earnest prayer for this object implies and promotes a disposition, and pursues an end, highly acceptable and honorary to God, and eminently conducive to the gen- eral good ; the Supreme Being must surely be disposed to encourage and reward such intercession, by granting some signal tokens of his approbation. Accordingly, the Bible abounds with precepts and examples, encour- agements and promises, intended to animate Christians to frequent and earnest supplication for this comprehen- sive mercy. The Lord's prayer, as we have already shewn, is a standing prescription to this effect. When God, by his prophet Ezekiel, had promised his people a rich aggregate of temporal and spiritual blessings, he fidds, that he would be inquired of by the house of Israel to do this for them. In another passage he represents himself, as waiting for his people's prayers, to prepare the way for the bestowment of special favours on his church. Yea, he describes himself!, as hastening to confer these blessings, while they are only beginning to
242 ON PRAYER. [Ser. XIX.
call upon him ; and to crown the whole, he speaks of himself, as being at their command, with regard to mer- cies of this nature. Agreeably, the remarkable efficacy of this species of prayer is exemplified by many pas- sages, both in sacred and ecclesiastical history, and by some memorable events in the annals of our country.
These motives to prayer for the revival and spread of religion, are greatly enforced by the complexion of the Vvorld at the present day, and the wonderful dispensa- tions of providence, which are passing over it. Many causes and events are now signally conspiring to pre- pare mankind for such a new and glorious state of things, as the Bible predicts.
In this view, we might particularly mention the rapid destruction of the papal hierarchy ; the hastening and general downf.il of religious fraud and tyranny, super- stition and bigotry; the swift progress of knowledge and free inquiry, of mutual candour and Catholicism among the different Christian denominations ; the un- rivalled extension and efficacy, Mhich are given to the means of early education ; the accelerated improve- ments of mankind. in the science of ci\il go^'ernment and liberty ; and in the various arts, w hie h adorn' and meliorate human society.
At the same time, these scientific, political, and religious advantages, are found, by experiment, utterly insufficient to reform the moral character of the age. Instead of this, they are, in many instances, giving birth and nourishment to greater en'ors and vices, both in the religious and polit- ical world, than perhaps ever before disgraced the his- tory of man. All -w'hich is evidently adapted to con- vince mankind, by their own experience, of the ineffi- cacy of boasted human reason and virtue, and the abso- lute necessity of that extraordinary divine influence.
Ser. XIX.3 ON PRAYER. 243
which the scriptures predict, to give due force and di- rection to the best external means of reformation and happiness.
As the Holy Spirit, in his sanctifying operations, is the great summaiy blessing purchased and promised by the Founder of our religion ; and as the general diffu- sion of this blessing is frequently represented in scrip- ture, as the main source and ingredient of the glory and felicity of the latter days, and of course the leading ob- ject of Christian intercession ; so the progress of things in the world, at this day, must impress serious observ- ers with the special importance and duty of earnestly praying for this favour, in such a pressing crisis of hu- man affairs.
The professed friends of Christianity are now loudly called, by the voice of providence, to distinguish them- selves in this way from the numerous tribe of speculative and practical infidels. While this careless or scoffing de- scription of men deride either the whole doctrine of a fu- ture more glorious state of the Christian church, or at least of a special divine agency in producing it ; while they fondly ascribe the expected regeneration of the world to a train of common, natural causes, and ridicule th^ pre- tended propriety and utility of prayer, as a preparatory mean of effecting it ; let us, both by avowed sentiment and practice, steadily hold forth the opposite truths. Let us openly testify to the world, that in our view it is both philosophical and scriptural for dependent and de- generate creatures solemnly and unitedly to own their dependence and degeneracy, and the all-sufficient power and grace of their Creator, by imploring this needed and promised influence, both for themselves and their N n
fj44^ ON PRAYER. [Bkr. XlX.
fellow-men. Let us endeavour to convince all around Its, that there is no more superstition or enthusiasm in- resorting to prayer, as a medium of spiritual blessings,' tiian in using proper means- ill other cases to obtain valuable ends.
" To impress this conviction more strongly as well, as to give life and success to our prayers, let us follow tiiem M'ith a suitable practice. Let none of us take refuge in this concert of prayer, as a cloak, or compen- sation, for allowed hypocrisy or disobedience, or a sub- stitute for personal reformation and holiness. Let us- prove, that we are sincere in lamenting the infidelity and vices of the day, and in praying for a general reforma- tion, by bewailing and correcting, in the first place, our own remaining infidelity and transgressions ; and by studiously exhibiting, in our daily temper and conduct, that Christian piety and morality, which our prayers seem to befriend and promote. Let us esteem this, as among the greatest advantages of this visible agreement in prayer, that it not only gives new animation and force to the petitions of those, wlio engage in it, and renders their united supplications peculiarly pleasing and preva- lent with the INlost High ; that it not only greatly im- proves the Christian union and candour of those various denominations, whom it embraces ; but also binds them all to exemplary prudence and godUness in their daily deportment, and urges them to the most discreet, }-et vigorous measures, to advance the kingdom of Christ in the rising and risen generations around them ; particu- larly in the respective families, churches, and neighbour- hoods, with which they are severally connected. It is the speaker's ardent wish and prayer, that these happy fruits may conspicuously mark that seasonable and laud-
S«R. XIX]. ON PRAYER. 245
able concert of devotion, which has once more brought us together; and that the result of all may be, a re- markable fulfilment of ancient prophecies in the exten- sion of primitive Christianity in all its transcendent vir- tues and blessings. In the enlivening liope of so happ^ an issue, " Ye, that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence ; and give him no rest, till he establish and make Jerusalem a praise in the earth."
Sermon xx.
The Spirit, Employment, and Design of the Christian Ministry.*
Ephesians iii. 8, 9, 10.
Unto me, ivho am less than the least of all saints^ is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ ; and to make all men see what is thefelloivship of the mystery, which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ : To the intent, that now, unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places, might be known by the church the manifold wis- dom of God.
X ERHAPS no passage of scripture gives a more amiable and exalted view of the spirit, employment, and design of the Cliristian ministry, than the words just recited. The humble and grateful spirit of a good min- ister is forcibly expressed in this remarkable clause : *' To me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given." His employment is siammed up in preaching " the unsearchable riches of Christ." The design of his office is to hold up, not only to men on earth, but "to principalities and powers in heavenly places" the manifold display of Deity in the work of redemption.
» Delivered at the Ordinatipn of the Rev. W. E. Channing, in Boston, June l5t, 1803.
Ser. XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 247
We will attend, in tlie First place, to the lowly and thankful spirit, which becomes the gaspel minister. This temper is peculiarly required and promoted by the- Christian revelation, by the leading complexion of its facts and doctrines, of its precepts and blessings. It ev- er accompanies and distinguishes evangelical piety and virtue from their first rise in the human heart to their fi- nal perfection and reward. As Christianity is the relig- ion of sinners, so a cordial reception of it must presup- pose and powerfully cherish a humbling sense of per- sonal guilt and depravity, and a disposition to ascribe the needed blessings of pardon, holiness, and eternal life, to the infinite mercy of God, operating through the perfect atonement of his Son. Accordingly, the habit- ual views and exercises of every real Christian harm^o- nize with the prayer of the publican, "God be merciful to me a sinner;" with the acknowledgment of our apostle, " by the grace of God I am, what I am ;" and with the song of the heavenly hosts : " Salvation to our God, w4io sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb."
As the spirit, expressed in the text, characterizes ev- ery penitent believer, so it eminently suits the profes- sion of a Christian minister. His official studies and re- ligious addresses constantly place before him the awful presence and majesty, the infinite holiness and grace of God, the wonderful condescension and sacrifice of Christ, the dependent and wretched condition of apos- tate man, the duty and importance of humble repent- ance and thankful praise on the part of redeemed sin- ners, and his own peculiar obligations to divine mercy for making him not only a partaker, but a public herald, of the gospel salvation. Can we \\'oncler, that these combined ideas roused in the bosom of Paul the most humble and gi'ateful emotions ? Ought they not to pro-
248 ON THE GHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX.
.duce similar effects on every minister? Can a man, who is a stranger to these sentiments and affections, be qual- jtled to enforce them on others ? Can he skiltuiiy and tenderly administer that spiritual medicine, the necessi- ty and value of which he does not perceive, whose heal- ing .and comforting efficacy he has never felt ? Can he suitably lead the devotions of Christians, who has never imbibed the gospel spirit; whose heart has never been tuned to the harmony of Christian love and praise ? la- short, the soul of a minister must be cast in the humble jnould of Christianity, before he can relish and faithful- ly perform the condescending and self-denying duties of his office ; before he can readily become all things to all men, and even take pleasure in instructing, reproving, or comforting the weakest and low^est forms of human nature. On the altar of Christian humility he must sac- rifice that fondness for hunjan applause, mental luxury, or worldly emolument ; that pride of literary, ministeri- al, or moral eminence ; that unfeeling or haughty neg- lect of the common people, which superior station, knowledge, and fame, assisted by human frailty or cor- ruption, ai'e apt to inspire. To subdue these evils, and to nourish the opposite virtues, the Christian pastor must early ^nd deeply imbibe the self-abasing, yet enno- bling views presented in our text.
We grant, that Paul had special reasons for adopting the humble and admiring language before us. He had been a violent persecutor and blasphemer of Christ and his gospel. The sovereign power and mercy of the JRedeemer had siiddenh- arrested his- mad career, and conferred on him, not only the temper and blessedness of a Christian believer, but the high character of a Chris- tian apostle. He had been furnished for this office, had jbeen supported and prospered in its execution, in a
Ser.XX.J on the christian ministry. 24<i
manner truly extraordinary, and probably unexampled CA-en in that age of miracles. The aiFecting contrast between his former and present condition perpetually dwelt on his mind. It sunk him in his own estimation below the least of saints, while it raised him above the highest in his fervent and exalted ascriptions to the grace of God.
But while the circumstances and feelings of Paul were in some respects peculiar ; wc must remark, that the spirit of the sincere Christian and minister is essen- tially the same in all, who possess it. The most amia- ble temper, the best education, the most improved intel- lect, and the greatest exterior decorum and virtue, can- not raise their subjects dhove the necessity and obli- gation of evangelical faith and repentance. And whoev- er cordially repents of sin, and embraces the gospel, will readily unite with our apostle in esteeming himself less tiian the least of all saints, and in ascribing all his privi- leges and hopes to the riches of di%ine mercy. It may reasonably be expected, that these humble and grateful emotions will keep pace v» ith his general progress in re- ligious knowledge and virtue, comfort and usefulness ; because his materials for and incitements to them will in- crease in this proportion. Real, and especially ad\'anc- ed Christians are far more intimately acquainted with themselves, than they can be with any of their brethren. Their spiritual senses are particularly nice and tender in discerning and feeling their own defects and transgres- sions. Their charity suggests in behalf of the offences of others many excuses and extenuations, ^vhich a strict- er knowledge or jealousy of their own characters dares not apply to themselves. Hence those professors and ministers of the gospel, who are truly eminent in their profession, are generally distinguished by a modest and charitable deportment.
250 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX.
We may add, the good minister is nourished in hu- miUty and pious gratitude, by contemplating his honour- able, sacred, and arduous employment. He compares his own weakness, impurity, and demerit, with the liigh nature and demands of his station. And while tliis com- parison fills him with ingenuous shame and trembling solicitude ; it awakens thankful astonishment, that God should advance so mean a creature to an office so digni- fied ; that he should select and assist so feeble an instru- ment to accomplish a work so difficult and glorious. This brings us
Secondly, To consider the employment of a Christian minister. It is here expressed by " preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ."
These " unsearchable riches" may denote the person- al excellencies of the Redeemer, Thus understood, they point us to the wonderful assemblage of divine and human perfections in that mysterious Person, whose name is Immanucl, who is the image and effulgence of his Father's glory, in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead, to whom the titles and attributes, the works and honours of divinity are ascribed ; who yet was made flesh and tabernacled among us ; who, amid the natural infirmities and temptations, exhibited all the virtues of humanity, in their full and steady lustre. What treas- ures of majesty and meekness, of dignity and conde- scension, of glory and humiiitv, of justice and mercy, are united in his character ! In his person and actions,, combined with his discourses, the invisible God is brought down to man, that man might rise to the true knowledge, imitation, and enjoyment of God.
The "riches of Christ" may also include his media- torial character and fulness ; his great offices and works, fcs the Instructor and High Priest, the Ruler and Judge
8JSR.XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 251
of the world. His instructions, as recorded in the sa- cred history, were admirably recommended by their simplicity and authority, by their harmony and variety, by their fulness and grandeur. They set before us the most interesting and sublime objects, in their native majesty, and in the most familiar light. They give us the most needful and satisfactory information with re- spect both to God and ourselves. They contain noth- ing, which is merely curious, puzzling, or dry ; noth- ing, which savours of superstition, or fanaticism, of learned subtlety, or worldly policy. The truths, which they unfold, oblige and animate believers to universal holiness. The morality, which they inculcate, while it immediately grows out of these truths, embraces the widest range, the noblest principles and offices of vir- tue. In short, the doctrine of this divine teacher, duly entertained, enriches both the understanding and heart ; it exalts them into a happy correspondence with tiie great objects presented. " Beholding in" this " glass the glory of the Lord, we are changed into tlie same image from glory to glory." While the instructions of Christ thus enlighten and purify, his atonement brings u s pardon and comfort. To a creature burdened with conscious guilt, and acquainted with the perfect character and law of his Maker, how congenial, how Vvclcome is the Chris- tian scheme of mediation ! How consoling to hear, that the Son of God has become the High Priest of offend- ing man ; that, b}' his obedience unto death, he has completely vindicated and honoured the divine govern- ment, and procured the full and everlasting forgiveness of every penitent sinner ? It is the part of the evangelical preacher to state this doctrine in its most simple and practical form ; to point out its importance in the sys- tem of revelation, its correspondence with the present o o
252 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser. XK
situation of man, with the general course of providence, and with the essential attributes of God. It becomes him to show how admirably this expedient unite's the pardon of relenting guilt, and the reward of defective virtue, with the public condemnation of sin, the im- proved order of the universe, and the most pure and ex- alted display of divine glory. It becomes him to de- fend this doctrine from every imputation of absurdity, of injustice, or cruelty, by showing, that the Father ap- pointed, and the Son consented, to the death of the cross, from motives of the most tender, Avise, and com- prehensive love ; that the good resulting from it will be unbounded and eternal; and that the pardon of offend- ers through this medium displays the divine benevo- lence in a manner, far more extraordinary, multiplied^ and impressive, than if God had cancelled our guilt by one single and sovereign act of grace. Tlie faithful in- structer will also hold up the intercession of Christ in its scriptural import and beauty. He will show, that the constant and successful agency of this illustrious advo- cate in behalf of offending man greatly exalts both the Father and Son; while it effectually humbles and en- courages behevers in their sincere, though imperfect acts of worship and obedience. With what boldness may we draw near to the Holy of Holies, when we see our persons represented, and our interests espoused by this great High Priest ! With what humility, repentance, and awe, are we inspired, when we find, that no less a person than the Son of God, can give us access to the presence of infinite purity !
This leads us to observe, that the riches of Christ in his sacerdotal office, are intimately connected \vith his regal authority. His mediation was designed, not to countenance, but to condemn and extinguish our re-
Ser. XX.] on the christian ministry. 253
hellion against the divine government. It was intend- ed not to cancel, but to multiply and enforce our moral obligations ; to give them a commanding influence on our tempers and lives. To accomplish tliis purpose, and to reward our Redeemer for his meritorious humil- iation, the Father Ijias invested him with " all pov/er in heaven and eartli," and in particular has made him *' Head over all things to the church." This mediato.- rial King has given his subjects a perfect constitution of government to direct their faith, to animate their obe- dience, and to ensure their felicity. He has appointed officer^ to interpret and enforce this constitution. He administers all the affairs of providence for the good of his spiritual empire. He sends forth his Spirit to give due effect to this mighty apparatus, and to render it " the power of God to salvation." Jiow pl€;asing to. remark, that, while the law of Christ, in its doctrines, prescriptions, and motives, is wonderfully fitted to de- stroy the power of sin, and establish the interest of holi- ness, this provision is made successful by an inward and divine operation, vhich begins and matures in our hearts the temper and happiness of the sons of God ! How comforting the assurance, that the gospel, like a sacred leaven, shall gradually pervade and assimilate the whole lump of mankind, till all tlie kingdoms of the world are become the kingdom of our Lord and his Christ ! When his church js thus completed, this me- diatorial Sovereign will assume the character of a Judge. He will display his divine power, discernment, and jus- tice, in raising the dead, in convening them before his, tribunal, in unfolding to public view the moral charac- ter of each, in pronouncing and executing the final sen- tence, which dooms his enemies to hopeless punish., ^ent, and instates his friends in the happiness and glp^
254 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX.
ry of his eternal kingdom. My brethren, what un- searchable riches of knowledge and goodness, of merit and faithfulness, of divine energy and perseverance, are exhibited by our Redeemer, in discharging these high employments ? How immense the blessings, which result from their execution !
Which brings us to add, that " the riches of Christ" refer to the benefits, which his mediation has procured, and his gospel confers. These benefits include, not on- ly the complete remission of past offences, but the re- covered image and friendly intercourse of our Creator, with the animating hope, and ultimate possession, of a blessed immortality. They also comprise those out- ward ordinances, which sensibly ratify these invisible blessings ; which assist our contemplation, pursuit, and enjoyment of them ; and engage us to corresponding affections and duties. They comprehend the just and merciful conditions, to which the gospel salvation is annexed ; together with the offer and conveyance of that divine influence, which enables us to perform them. These conditions may be summed up in evan* gelical faith, with its genuine fruits. The requirement of this cordial and practical belief is not a capricious or arbitrary demand, but a proper, needful, and gra. cious prescription. For this faith yields due honour both to God and the Mediator. It freely submits to the divine government and mercy. It gi\^es the saving truth an operative existence in our minds; and thus imparts to us its holy and happy effects. But unbelief, either in speculation, temper, or practice, implicidy de- nies both the Father and the Son. It spurns the only remedy, which can give health and peace to the di^ tempered soul. Of course, it necessarily confirms the moral sickness and death of the patient. In
Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 255
this view, the threatening of destruction, which the gospel denounces upon infidels, is a rich display of wis- dom, equity, and kindness. It is wise and just, as it arms this di^'ine religion with sanctions equal to its im- portance. It is kind, as it seasonably warns offenders of their danger, and compels them by the great law of self preservation to escape from impending ruin, and to lay hold on eternal life.
We have enumerated the leading topics of evangelical instruction, as denoted by the " unsearchable riches of Christ ;" and it may be useful to add, that the original word here rendered /?r<?^^/z, literally intends to evangelize, or to publish a joyful message. The connexion further implies, that, to answer this description, our preaching, or publication, must mainly centre in Christ and his redemption. As Jesus Christ is declared to be *' the chief corner stone" of the spiritual fabric, which was reared by the prophets and apostles ; so their humble successors in these last days must build on the same foundation. When the Christian preacher discourses on natural religion and morality, he should represent them paying homage to Jesus, as their great Restorer and Exemplar, and binding their votaries to a new set of moral duties, created by the new discoveries of the gospel. If he treat of the ancient dispensations of providence and of religion, and in particular of the laws and predictions delivered to the Hebrews ; he should hold up these as either prefiguring or gradually introduc- ing the promisedSeed, in whom all the nations of the earth should be blessed. If he inculcate Christian du» ties, he should enforce them chiefly by evangelical mo- tives. Would he rouse the secure ? Let him urge not only the purity and the curse of the divine lav\% but the awful display of human guilt and infinite justice in the
256 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX;
death of Christ, and the aggravated doom incurred by those, who neglect this great sahation. Would he guide and encourage the anxious and desponding soul f Let him hold up the riches of the Saviour, and invite the poor, heavy laden sinner to come for divine treasures, for spiritual and eternal rest. Would he comfort and invigorate the Christian? Let him bring up to view the peculiar aids, supports, and rewardsv insured to him by the FAITHFUL AND TRUE WiTNEss. Li short, the gospel is an unbounded treasury, from which the wise and good ste'ward may dispense portions suitable to all the varieties, and equal to all the wants of reasonable, lapsed, immortal beings. The riches liere deposited are indeed unsearchable. Their worth cannot be estimat- ed. Their amount exceeds calculation. As they could not be discovered by human reason, and were but faintly revealed under the Jewish economy ; so they cannot be fully comprehended by the most ilkiminated Christian, nor even by the highest angel. ^ This train of thought brings us, in the
Third place, To the design of the gospel ministry. This design respects the inhabitants both of earth and of heaven.
I. The immediate object of Christian preaching is the instruction of mankind, or, in the language of the text, *' to make all men see what is the fello\^'ship of the myste- ry, which froni the beginning of the world hath been hid in God." The gospel is here styled a "mystery" or secret^ because in the early ages it " was hid in God ;" that is, it \vas either ivholly concealed in the divine breast, or imparted only to a fe^v, or couched in dark predictions and types. The ancient church received such hints of this merciful plan, as suited her infant state, and the wise preparatory discipline under which she was
Seh.XX.] on the christian ministry. 257
placed. The great body even of pious Hebrews had faint, and, in some respects, erroneous views, both of tlie nature and designed extent of the Messiah's kingdom. The equal participation of uncircumcised Gentiles with Jews, in the blessings of this kingdom, was a secret, not only foreign, but hostile to the favourite ideas and ex- pectations of the latter. When this mystery was fully disclosed, it filled the apostles with wonder, their Hebrew converts with regret, and the Jewish unbelievers with rage. Hence Paul, who was eminently the minister of Christ to the Gentile world, insists much on this generous, yet surprising and oftensi\'e topic. His Kberal mind exults in a mission, intended to abolish re- ligious distinctions, and to unite all nations into one affectionate and happy fraternity. He dwells with rap- ture on the grand idea of bringing all men into " the fel- lowship" of the gospel, or into a holy communion with each other under Jesus their common head. This sub- lime purpose and effect of Christianity he infers from this fact, that " God created all things by Jesus Christ." As if he should say, It is reasonable to expect, that the common Creator of Jews and heathens will be their im- partial and benevolent Saviour.
Agreeably, the merciful promises, given to Adam and Noah, were made to the whole human family. The di- vine covenant with Abraham ensured spiritual blessings to all nations. The selection of the Hebrews, as the peculiar people of Jehovah, was a needful and catholic provision for the highest good of the world. It render- ed that nation the public keepers, witnesses, and propa- gators of religious truth, both natural and revealed. It made them instruments of preparing mankind for a per- fect and universal religion. It still renders them au- thentic vouchers to Christianity, and will hereafter sig-
258 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser. XX.
nally contribute to its intended establishment and influ- ence diroughout the gJobe.
To caiT}'^ this grand device into gradual execution, is the appropriate business of public Christian instructors. They are to expound, confirm, and apply that great " mystery," which was early conceived and wrapped up in the purpose of God, but which the Son of his bosom has fully declared. They should unfold this ancient and divine secret in terms so plain, that all men, even the lowest, may see it, or obtain such knowledge of it as may guide and mould their affections and prac- tice. The}* should guard against that intellectual van- ity or refinement, which would destroy the simplicity, the majesty, and force of sacred truth, by aitificial orna- ment, or abstruse speculation. They should aim, like our apostle, not so much to please the elegant, the met- aphysical, or the scientific few, as to impart saving in- struction to all. To accomplish this effect, to convey the doctrines of salvation into every understanding and heart, the preacher must unite perspicuity and energy. A mind richly stored with evangelical knowledge and goodness, must infuse light and warmth into his dis- courses ; vvhile his corresponding example must render them doubly luminous and impressive. As the gospel is intended to unite all men in holy "fellowship," its min- isters should adjust their preaching and conduct to this design. They should point the attention of their hearers to those great truths and duties, which form the centre of Christian union. A zealous and joint at- tachment to these should temper or extinguish that fire of controversy, which di\ided sentiments and jealous feelings about small or doubtful matters have so often inflamed. It ill becomes the ministers of Christ to rcnd^ asunder his mystical body, by substituting the naiTovv
Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 259
zeal of a party, in the room of that comprehensive spirit, Mhich unites men to God, and to one another. It ill becomes them to contend, even for essential truth, in a manner unfavourable to Christian love, and its practical fruits ; for such contention injures both the credit and moral influence of truth : it disligures and endangers the gospel church, even by those very doctrines, which, rightly entertained, constitute her principal strength and beauty. It is by " speaking the truth in love," and by canying it out into a holy temper and practice, that Christians are to grow up into one compact, flourishing, and glorious community.
Let us, then, to whom the dispensation of the gos- pel is committed, strive, by our doctrine and spirit, by our united exertions and prayers, to make it productive of these blessed effects. As stars in the firmiment of Zion, let us difflise the light of evangelical truth, not only to the best advantage, but to the widest extent. Let our fervent intercessions and labours never rest;, " till all men^'''' even the remotest climes, are brought into the Christian " fellowship ;" till the whole earth is filled with divine glory and human bliss. Nay, more ; let our benevolent views expand even beyond the limits of our species and world. For,
II. The Christian religion and ministry were design- ed for the benefit of " principalities and powers in heav- enly places." The gospel church and its sacred insti- tutions are mirrors, which exhibit to superior intelligen- ces, " the manifold wisdom of God." That man is but a link in one mighty chain of being ; that there is a con- nexion or mutual subserviency between him and higher orders of creatures, analogous to the union which, per- vades the \ isible system, is a sentiment congruous to reason, and established by revelation. Both the Old and p p
260 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser. XX.
New Testament introduce various ranks and countless multitudes of celestial spirits, as deeply concerned in the affairs of our world, especially those, which relate to the church. By this intercourse they at once greatly contribute to the common good, and receive vast addi- tions of personal happiness. While their benevolent agency in the Messiah's kingdom is an immediate source of sublime and increasing delight ; it is attended with new, progressive and beatific discoveries of the divine gloiy. To search out, toadore,andtoenjoytheperfections of God in his works, is their unceasing employment and felicity. The redemption of man, in all its connexions, at once exceeds, illustrates, and unites in one perfect whole, the preceding and concurrent operations of Deity. It gi\'es to admiring angels an exhibition of his charac- ter, more diversified, harmonious, and complete, than the volumes of nature and providence had ever sug- gested. With what high improvement and satisfaction must superior beings behold and enjoy this manifesta- tion! The " manifold wisdom," presented in it, must eminently seize their attention, enlarge their kno^vledge, and exalt their devotion. How wonderful must appear that contrivance, which renders this little globe so im- portant to the beauty, variety, and happiness of the uni- verse ; \vhich forces even human rebellion and ruin to swell the triumph of order, rectitude, and bliss ! How comprehensive that A\'isdom, which has erected so many different theatres for the display of divine glory ; which has adopted one form of administration for the sinless natives of heaven, another for its apostate citizens, a third for disobedient man ; and which has so combined these diversities, as to make them jointly conduce to ulti- mate and general good ! How profound that intelligence, which, by subjecting the Lord of angels to abasement and
Ser.XX.] on the christian ministry. 261
death, not for their guilty brethren, but for a iovv'er or- der of sinners, is effectually repairing the loss of the former, b}'^ tlie restored virtue and felicity of the latter ; and which, by this expedient, lias provided for the incor- poration of redeemed men and angelic beings in one confirmed and glorious community !
It is important to add, that these heavenly spirits derive their knowledge of this " manifold wisdom"i chiefly from the gospel dispensation. It was, in a great degree, veiled e\en from them, till it was revealed to the apostles, and by their preaching imparted to the world.. These invisible ministers of Christ and his church gaiu-..^ ed a clear insight into this mj^stery, by witnessing his life and death, his resurrection and ascension ; by see- ing ancient types and prophecies fulfilled and illuminated by these events ; by hearing the import of diese facts explained by authorized Christian teachers ; and by ob-. serving their transcendent and divine effects on the hu- man character and condition. These sources of infor- mation reflected new lustre on the several dispensations of God to mankind. They .exhibited the whole train of divine conduct from Adam to Christ, as one harmo- nious, yet diversified system, leading by the nicest and surest steps to a glorious consummation. While they elucidated the manifold wisdom of God in his former proceedings, they especially unfolded his deep and be- nevolent design in so long deferring a clear and general discovery of his merc}\ Wise and good spirits, both on earth and in heaven, now see with delight the beauty of this arrangement. They see, that in this way the \\'orld was trained up by gentle degrees for this sublime revelation; that it receives solemn attestation and digni- ty from a long and vast apparatus, going before and ter- minating in it ; that a full experiment had been made of
262 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Ser.XX.
human philosophy and government, of natural theology afid virtue ; that Christ did not appear till the pure relig- ion and morrJs, taught in the first ages, were lost be- yond hope of recovery ; nor, until the union, peace, and learning of the world had opened a door for the easy and general difilision of his gospel ; in short, that he came at the precise period, when the political, moral, and re- ligious state of the globe invited, yea, cried aloud for a gracious, supernatural, and universal dispensation. They also beheld this merciful religion wisely adapted to all the exigences of those to whom it is offered. Fir- ed with these discoveries, the holy and benevolent angels fervently sing, in concert with the redeemed, the new song of the Lamb; " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing." Yea, so immense is the sum of glory to God, and of happi- ness to the moral creation, arising from the work and the knowledge of human redemption, that every crea- ture in the universe is introduced, as joining the con- cert of praise, and saying, " Blessing, and honour, and glor}^ and power be unto him, that sittethon the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever."
Our subject in review furnishes a satisfactory reply to a frequent suggestion either of humble diffidence, or of cavilling infidelity. The lowl}'- and fearful mind is sometimes ready to view the gospel as incredible, be- cause it imfolds riches of condescending love so great and wonderful, as to confound rather than encourage be- lief, especially when contrasted with the mean and ill- deserving Jfliaracter of their object. The sceptical phi- losopher is likewise apt to view it, as a strong objection to Christianity, that it exhibits the Deity lavishing his best treasures on our inconsiderable world, which is
Ser, XX.] ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 265
but an atom in the intelligent universe. These diffi- culties are easily removed, by observing, that if it was liot below the dignity of God to create all things by Je- sus Christ, it is still less below him to redeem many millions of his rational creatures by the same glorious Person, and thus to recover them to that moral perfec- tion, in which his own dignity and happiness consist. Man, though comparatively mean, rises to inconeeiva- ble importance, when viewed in his relations to the uni- verse and eternity. As he possesses a soul capable of endless advances in knowledge, usefulness, and bliss ; so his connexions with other beings, according to scrip- ture and rational probability, render the scheme of his recovery a source of unbounded improvement and joy. What though the immediate scene and objects of this redemption be low and obscure ? This circumstance only heightens the splendour of redeeming power and wisdom, condescension and grace ; just as the poverty and weakness of the Saviour and his early disciples gave new evidence and glory to his religion. Was it not highly worthy of the Supreme Ruler, not only to reclaim an apostate world, but to reunite it to his holy empire, and to render this union a mean of eternal praise to himself, and good to the universe ? Thus, sound phi- losophy, by enlarging in our minds the intellectual cre- ation, enhances the importance, and of course the credi- bility of the Christian redemption.
While these great ideas dispel the mists of unbeliev- ing doubt and sophistry, they furnish gospel ministers with the noblest incitements to zeal and magnanimity. What though their office be despised, and their mes- sage opposed, by the secret or open enemies of that God, whose government and mercy they recommend, and of that Sa^'iour, whose unsearchable riches they
264 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Seb.XX.
preach ? Is it not enough to animate and console them, that all heaven is on their side ; that celestial principali- ties and powers are their brethren and fellow labourers; that they are acting with and for the universal church, the holy creation, and the common Head and Father of both ? Shall it not comfort us, that every instance of our fidelity and success, every repenting sinner, every improved saint, who ever is converted or edified by our ministry, creates new joy both in heaven and earth, and brings additional honour to the name and kino-dom of our Lord ? How sublime is the prospect of that day, %vhen all the faithful ministers and hearers of the gospel shall be assembled together, and form one great me- dium to reflect the glory of God in the face of his Son, on admiring kindred spirits, and at once to excite and assist their eternal praises ! That -a e may share in the triumph of that day, let us explain and recommend the gospel of Christ with such fidelity, clearness, and force, that all men within our reach may have the best advaur tages to see, and the strongest motives to embrace it,
These sentiments, dear Sir, are addressed to you with peculiar tenderness and ardour. What lowly, yet elevated feelings must they rouse in your bosom at this affecting moment ! If Paul, that unrivalled minister of Christ, was humbled to the dust by the greatness of his oifice, and by personal unworthiness and insufficiency; what reason have we to be abased by similar views ? Your entrance on this employment, and your perform- ance of its duties, v\ ill, I trust, cherish a solemn impres- sion of that human apostasy, and divine merc\ % \yhicl'| originated the scheme of redemption. You Vv'ill study and unfold this scheme with a deep sense of your own concern in its great discoveries and requirements.- This manner of beginning and conducting your minis-
JJer.XX.] on the christian ministry. 265
try will render it ii constant school of humility, and this humble temper will accelerate the growth of every in- tellectual and virtuous accompliyhment. It will open your mind to truth, and make you ingenuous, devout, and industrious in acquiring it. It will fill your heart, your ministry, and life, as it did those of St. Paul, with a constant stream of piety and charity, with exemplary modesty and contentment, patience and equanim- ity, amid the trying vicissitudes of your present condition. The spirit I now recommend, far frora leading to base timidity or servile compliance, will nourish true dignity and independence of chai'acter. It will preserve you from the meanness of selfish ambi- tion and vanity. It ^vill enable }ou to enjoy popular admiration, and even the esteem of the wise and great, with a sober and thankful mind, and to improve them, as means of more extensive good.
Your heart, I doubt not, gratefully admires the con- descending grace of our Lord in calling you thus early into his public service under circumstances so highly auspicious. You will show your gratitude for these to- kens of his favour, by affectionately publishing his un- searchable riches, by tenderly adjusting your public and private addresses to the several descriptions of your hear- ers, and by using every effort of prudent zeal to bring all men into the sacred fellowship of the gospel. Your concern for the best interest of mankind, your knowl- edge of the Christian system and reverence for its di- vine Author, will forbid you to accommodate its high discoveries, duties, and sanctions, to the taste of modern pride, or licentiousness, or unbounded liberality. They will constrain you to insist not only on the external de- cences of a civil, or occasionally solemn deportment, but on a radical repentance of sin, a. cordial trust in the
266 ON THE CHRISTIAI^ MINISTRY. [Ser.XX.
Saviour, a universal purity of heai't and conversation, as indispensable conditions, and even ingredients, of the gospel salvation.
May you, Sir, largely imbibe the generous and exalt, ed views of the text. May you centre your glory, pleas- \u-e, and wealth, not in the splendid and amusing trifles of this world, but in resembling those great spirits, Vv'ith whom you are called to act in reuniting men to God and one another, and thus extending the triumph of divine benevolence and created good. By a steady contempla- tion and pursuit of these objects, may you be qualified to mingle in human society, with a safe and dignified, yet easy affability. May your intercourse U'ith men, like that of your Master, be open and free, yet pure and instructive. May it convince the most cheerful circles, that while the good Christian and minister can enjoy, with temperance and even refinement, the decent pleas- ures of this life, his chief satisfaction and excellence spring from a far higher source. May your pastoral un- ion with this people be long and happy ! May they and their beloved offsprin.g, and even many of their unborn posterity, be your hope and comfort in this world, and your eternal crown of rejoicing in the kingdom of heaven.
Respected brethren of this church and society, we gi'eet you on tliis joyful occasion. We shared with you in the affliction occasioned by the sudden death of your much esteemed Belknap, and by the early resignation of his wortliy successor, ^^"hilc Ave offer our affectionate and devout wishes for his conlirmed health, and long protracted usefulness to the church of Christ, we bless God for his distinguishing goodness in fixing your speedy and united choice on a person, whose gifts and virtues promise great ministerial usefulness and honour. That this promise ma}' be reaUzed, we ask for him not
Ser.XX.3 on the christian ministry. 267
only your continued esteem, but your tender and liberal indulgence. Though he is soon to be commissioned , as a humble fellow- worker with celestial principalities and powers, yet he is far from possessing at present their strong and immortal constitution. His delicate health and youthful age, combined with his conspicuous station, his arduous service, and tlie weight of public expectation, plead both with him and with you for the care Of his val- uable life, as a mutual and sacred dut}^ They also so- licit the animating concurrence of your Christian prayers and examples, of your steady, solemn, and edifying at- tendance on his ministry, of your best exertions in your several connexions and employments, to support the honour and extend the influence of vital religion. By this conduct you will cheer and strengthen his anxious mind, and secure to yourselves the gracious presence and benediction of God. Brethren, may your hearts be comforted, being knit together in love. May your so- ciety, with its new pastor, cemented and adorned by gospel faith and charity, become a spiritual "building fitly framed together, and gro\ving up to a holy temple in the Lord."
Men and brethren of this numerous assembly : If it be the office and glory of ministers to publish the mystery of Christ, it is your corresponding duty and privilege to receive and obey it. To you as well, as to diem, is committed a trust of the most solemn, extensive, and lasting import. The minds of many at this day are so filled with the present and political advantages resulting from Christianity, that they seem to forget its high origin, intention, and issue. Some are even willing to consigu to the clergy the exclusive honour of that temporal good, which religious institutions promote ; for they will not
268 ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. [Seu.XX.
lend them the weight of their uniform example and in- ^fiiiencc. But be not deceived; as the gospel came from God, so its leading object is to train you for that glorious and immortal community, of which he is the head. This end cannot be attained, unless )- ou hciutily comply, and steadily co-operate, with the Christian sys- tem. IwCt this serious occasion direct your views to that far more solemn period, when all the little interests of time shall be lost in the momentous scenes of eternity. *' Seeing, then, that all these things shall be dissolved, Vvhat manner of persons ought }'e to be in all holy con^ versation and godliness !" *■' The Lord grant" to you and mc, '■'■ that" we " may find mrercy of the Lord in that day r" that we may be humble monuments of his praise, " \\hen he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them tliat believe^"
©ennon xxL
The Benefits of Affliction.
H£BREW5 x.ii. 9, lOo
Furthermore^ lue han^e had fathers of our fleshy ivho cor- rected us, and we gaue them renierence : shall %ve net much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits^ and Ihe ? For they eerily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure ; but he, for our profit, that we might be partakers of his Jioliness.
w
HAT instnictive and soothing words are these to the sons and daughters of affliction ! Do the very Hght and feelings of nature teach us to receive the corrections of the fathers of our flesh, our rneaner and mortal part, with reverence, with love, with a quiet submission to their authority, wisdom, and benevolence, in this salutary dis- cipline ? And shall we not much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, the parent of our nobler and im- mortal part, the author of our spiritual and divine life, by which we bpcome his children in the highest and hap- piest sense ? Shall we not receive his paternal correc- tions with dutiful respect, with a hearty submission to his will and design in them ? Shall we not thus be in^ subjection, fl:;zr//iw.^ Yea, live in the noblest sense. By tliis submission to our Father in heaven, we shall be im- proved and carried forward in a holy and heavenly life, and gi-adually refined and matured for die life of angels
270 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [SEn.XXI.
and perfected spirits in glory. For, as the apostle pro- ceeds, " I'hey verily for a few days chastened us ;" that is, diir ing our puerile years, or in order to our good behaviour and welfare during this short and dying life ; "after their own pleasure;" according to' their falli- ble, and frequently erroneous judgment ; and some- times according to their capricious humoiu', or hasty ungoverned passions ; whence it happened that their chastisements were not always strictly just ; either pro- portioned to our desert, or adapted to our real ben- efit: " but He for our profit;" that we may learn and practise the most beneficial lessons ; which are all sum- med up in this, " that we may be partakers of his holi- ness ;" of that hohness of which he is himself tlie au- thor and pattern ; the centre and end ; and in which he supremely delights.
The words thus explained present a train of excisllent ideas, which are always seasonable and useful to crea- tures in our situation, surrounded with so many scenes of calamity and distress ; but which are peculiarly sea- sonable at this juncture, when the Father of our spiHts has seen fit to visit us with a rapid succession of awful and grievous dispensations.* For, M'ithin the space of less than fourteen days, he has stripped this Society of four of its members ; all of whom, except the last, were cut down in the prime, or the midst of life ; and, in ad- dition to this, he has called a considerable number of families in this place, within that compass of time, to bury an aged parent and brother, who had spent some part of his life in the bosom of this parish, and at length expired on its borders. So quick a series, and so great a crowd of bereavements, by which no less than tivelve distinct families in this place arc at once mourning the deaths of very near relations, has, 1 think, never been
'* This discoui'se was preached Mar. 28, 1790,
Ser. XXL] B£n£FITS of AFFLICTION. ^71
exceeded, nor more than once equalled, since my con- nexion with the society. And can we suppose, that so many successive strokes of our heavenly Father's rod have no important meaning? Reason as well, as scrip- ture, forbids the idea. No, my fellow mortals and fel- low mourners, our dying and dead friends are kind messengers to us from our infinitely wise and good Father ; or, as the poet happily expresses it,
" Are angels sent on errands full of love ; For us they languish, and for us they die ; And shall they languish, shall they die in vain ?'*
Let US, therefore, in the further prosecution of this subject, attend to some of the errands on which these messengers are sent ; or, in other words, consider In Vvhat respects those fatherly chastisements, Avhich God lays upon us in the death of our friends, are designed and adapted for our profit. The text indeed speaks of divine corrections in general ; and it must be granted, that all God's afflictive visitations have the same general lan- guage, the same kind and benevolent tendency and de- sign ; they are all calculated to embitter sin to us, to mortify our pride, vanity, and worldly affection ; to rouse up our minds to a just, deep, enlarged, and most salutaiy train of thought ; and, in a word, to exercise and brighten the whole circle of Christian graces ; par- ticularly faith, patience, humility, submission, supreme love to God, and trust in him.
Let me further premise, that the deaths of our fellow men in general, where there is no special tie of kindred, of friendship, or even of acquaintance to unite us to them, hold up very profitable instructions to our minds ; and every \A^ise and pious observer v\ill reap some improve- ment from them. He will learn more and more of the vanity of man, even in his best estate: he will grow
272 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser.XXI.
more humble, and dependent on the eternal God : he will read die dreadful evil of sin on every coffin and eve- ry tombstone : he \vi\\ feel himself called and roused by every death he witnesses, to prepare for his own, and to put £very thing in the best readiness for his sol- emn entrance into the eternal world. And if e^-ery in- stance of human mortality is thus pregnant with rich profit to the attentive mind, much more those, which strike nearest to our hearts, which tear from us our dearest lovers, friends, and acquaintance i
Let us survey a number of particulars, in which the removal of these is calculated, and may be improved, for our benefit. And
First, It shows us the insufficiency and emptiness of the most beloved and valuable creature comforts^ To render this observation more impressive, let mc instance in some of those connexions, which death has lately broken asunder. Some of you have lost a son in the bud of childhood, or the flower and glory of youth. None, but the fond hearts of parents can tell, how dear, how interesting, how transporting these comforts are ; how they twine about our heart-strings, and engross that aftection and dependence, which ai-e due only to the Being of beings. And none but the parental bosom can tell how it tears the very sou!, M'hen God roots up these tender plants, and withers the blossom from w hich we fondly expected such rich and pleasant fruit! Where is now your delight, your hope, your towering fabric of expectation, ye bereaved, mourning parents? Alas ! buried in the same coffins and graves w ith your departed children ! What a lesson is here of creature emptiness ! Some of you have lost a beloved partner, a bosom friend, who was your helper and your suppoit under the daily cares and difficulties of life ; your sec-
SfcR. XXL] BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 273
Olid self, to divide your sorrows and double your joys ; and with tender and faithful assiduity to promote your interest and comfort. But God, by removing this prop, is teaching you, in the most forcible manner, what a weak support, what a poor helper, what a feeble, short lived friend this is on which you have so fondly leaned I Others of you have lost a parent, who was the guide, the counsellor, the guardian, of your younger years ! but death is now teaching you the insufficiency of such a guide and patron, who has left you in the midst of your journey, through this dark and perilous wilderness. Others have lost a beloved brother ; and God, by this dispensation, is teaching you, that the ties and sweets of natural brotherhood and friendship are a very scanty, precaiious foundation on which to build solid, permanent happiness. Thus the deaths of any near and much loved friends proclaim, with a ver}^ loud and affecting voice, the vanity of all created comforts, and v\am us iii the language of the poet,
Beware what eartU calls happiness : beware
All joys, but those that never can expire.
Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ;
A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ;
On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires.
IL The death of our friends is calculated to lead, yea, drive us to a more immediate and constant depend- ence on God. The stream is dried up in order to force us back to the fountain. These twinkling stars set in darkness, in order to make us prize and seek the beams of the Sun of righteousness. These earthly idols are turned out of Our hearts, to make room for the King of glory, the sovereign beauty and good, to enter and fill them. While our friends ^\'ere alive and flourishing around us, we were apt to trust in and live upon them j
27i BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser.XXL
to rest as it were our whole weight upon them ; to make them our refuge and high tower, our sun and our shield. But when death comes and beats down tliis tower, and breaks this shield to pieces, and turns this feeble sun into darkness, then we feel a kind of necessi- ty of looking out for some better refuge ; of looking and fiying to God, as our sun and our shield ; then the atten- tive and pious mind \\ ill eagerly repair to the Bible, the fountain of divine consolations, which flow in that bless- ed volume, and will feel a new, a seasonable relief, and delight in surveying those kind, condescending charac- ters and relations, which God and his Son have there assumed, for the comfort of his people in all their vari- ous distresses.
For instance ; when ^^e lose an earthly parent, with what pleasure will the thoughtful and serious mind, in such a circumstance, read, and, as it were, cling to tliese words of the psalmist ; " When my father or my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." Or when the Christian loses the dear companion of his life, with what eagerness and satisfaction does he fiy into the arms of Jesus, as a bosom friend, a husband, a com- panion, who can never fail him ! And in the loss of a natural brother, what pleasure is there in the thought, that Jesus Christ is become the natural, sympathizing brother of man, by partaking in our nature and sorrows, and offers to become our spiritual brother by regenerat- ing and adopting grace ! In short, the loss of any dear, earthly connexion, is powerfully adapted, as a mean to make us prize, and seek, and secure, a spiritual, indissoluble connexion with the infinite God and his di- vine Son, in whom we may regain, to unspeakable advan- - tage, the endearments and sweets of all those relations and ties of love, which death has broken, or can dissolve.
Ser. XXL] BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 275
III. The removal of dear friends calls to an im- portant trial of our lov^e to God, and submission to his sovereignty. When God tears from our arms and our hearts some favourite creature, he hereby practically puts the same question to us, which Christ did to Peter ; " Lovest thou me ? lovest thou me more than these crea- ture delights ? Art thou willing to resign them at my call ? Thou hast called me thy Lord and Sovereign ; I am now come to bring thy sincerit}'' to the test. Art thou willing I should be sovereign in this instance ? Canst thou give up thy dearest comforts to me — to my absolute disposal ? I gave up my Son to death for thee ; and hast tliou any thing so near and dear to thee, as my Son was to me ?"
And now, ye bereaved mourners, what answer do your hearts give to these divine questions ? Do you find, up- on trial, that you really love God and his will above all things, so that you can surrender any thing when his pleasure and gloiy demand it ? If so, what a comfortable, what a glorious example is hereby exhibited of your gracious sincerity ! an example which at once greatly honours God, edifies and strengthens good men, pre- sents matter of conviction to the wicked as well, as affords great satisfaction and benefit to yourselves. There is no frame of mind so sweet and so reasonable, as a cheer- ful and entire acquiescence in the will of God. And this salutary lesson is to be chiefly learned in the school of affliction. And perhaps no kind of affliction is better fitted to teach it, tfian this. In many other calamities there is such a mixture of human interposition, that we are ready to imagine we may be allowed to complain, and to chide a little ; and, while we feel a mixture of indignation against the instrument, we are apt to forget the great First Cause and Disposer of our trials. But R r
276 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ssk. XXI.
here it is so evidently his hand, that we must refer it to him ; and it will appear daiing impiety to qiiairel at what is done. In other instances, v\e can at least- flatter ourselves with hope, that the calamity may be diverted, or the enjoyment recovered : but here, alas ! there is no such hope ; for the last fatal stroke is irrecoverably giv- en ; so that opposition is vain ; and a forced submission gives but little rest to the mind : a cordial acquiescence in the divine will is the only thing in the w hole world,, that can ease the struggling heart, and restore it to true peace. Remaining corruptions will work in the best Christians on so trying an occasion. This will lead them to an attentive review of the great reasons for submission. It will lead them to press these arguments on their own souls, and to plead them with God in prayer ; till at length the storm is laid; and tribulation worketh pa- tience, and patience experience, and experience a hope, which maketh not ashamed, while the love of God is so shed abroad in the heart, as to humble it for every preceding opposition, and to bring it to an entire and delightful approbation of all that so wise and gracious a Father has done ; giving up every temporal interest and enjoyment to his disposal, and sitting down \\ith tlie sweet resolution of the prophet, — " Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the labour of the olive shall fiiil, and the fields shall yield no meat ; the flock shall be cut off" from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls y yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation." When we are brought to this, the whole horizon clears at once, and the sun brcal^s forth in its strength.
IV. The deaths of beloved relatives are dispensations excellently adapted to lead us into a deeper knowledge of what is amiss in our hearts. They, as it were, sift oar carnal and perverse hearts to tlie bottom, and bring
Ser.XXLI benefits of affliction. 277
up to our view a great deal of lurking pride, selfishness, idolatrous affection to creatures, and rebellious opposi- tion to the Creator. These evil dispositions, perhaps, lay quite out of sight, and in a great measure dormant, so long, as God smiled upon us, and gratified our ardent desires Avith a constant series of temporal comforts. But, M'hen he reverses the scene, and crosses these fond inclinations ; then our pride and selfishness begin to swell, and burst into impatient and murmuring senti- ments against him. Then our extreme reluctance to parting with creature comforts at God's command, and the long and excessive sorrow, which attends the parting stroke, too plainl}^ shows, that \ve insensibly idolized these comforts, that ^ve placed the creature in the room of the Creator, and that we are ready to quarrel with God for disturbing us in our sinful idolatry. Thus the school of bereavement teaches us more and more of the depths of ■\\'ickedness in the human heart, and our press- ing need of supernatural grace to rectify these disor- ders ; and thus tends to promote a spirit of deep humil- ity, earnest prayerfulness, godly self-jealousy, and con- stant vigilance.
V. The death of friends operates for our profit, when it awakens us to a solemn and tender recollection of our conduct toward them, whether it has been in all respects right or not ; and when it quickens us in our duty to surviving relatives. ^Vhile they are alive and present with us, our neglect of duty toward them does not so soon strike our consciences. But \^1ien the stroke of death divides them from us in this world forever, we are ready then to bethink ourselves, whether we have fully performed our duty to them. " Did I always ren- der that filial affection, that submissive tenderness to my departed parent, which became a child ? Did I pay due honour and obedience to parental instructions, counsels^
278 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser. XXI.
and admonitions, especially those, which regarded my religious and eternal concerns ? Did I careful!)' and faith- fully instruct the child, which I have lost, in the great things of God, of heaven, and eternity, and endeavour to train him up for the service and enjoyment of his Creator? What have I done for the spiritual and ever- lasting welfare and comfort of the dear partner, or broth- er, whom Providence has now placed beyond the possibility of ever receiving any further benefit from my friendly assistance ? O did I live and converse with my now deceased relative, as became those, who were breth- ren and companions in the spirit as ^^'ell, as in the flesh? Did we endeavoiu^ to quicken each other^s pious zeal and love, and help one another onv.ard in the road to heaven ?" O how must such inquiries convict the best of us, of very great neghgcnce toward our beloved friends, who are now departed ! And how powerfully must such a conviction operate to OA-erwhelm us with penitential grief for such neglects ; and to double our zeal and diligence toward those, who yet survive ! This will be the most substantial proof of our aflfection both to the dead and the living. And could our deceased rela- tives arise from their graves, or address us from the invisible world, they ^vouid call upon us to show om- respect in this way, by weeping not so much for them, as for oursehes and our children ; by turning the w hole tide of our affections and sorrows for thcin, into tlie channel of redoubled zeal and care for the salvation of our own souls, and those of our dear surviving friends.
I might mention many other particulars in w hich such strokes of bereavement are ^vell adapted mcatis of prof- iting the living. But here, to prevent mistakes, I must subjoin this explanatory observation, that these divine chastisements, in order to their reaching these salutary ends, must be accompanied on the one hand "v\ ith the
&EK. XXL] BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 279
inward teachings and impressions of divine grace, and on the other, w ith sincere desires and endeavours on our part to endure and improve aiight. If tliose, who are visited with these corrections, pay little or no atten» tion to the great moral purposes for which tliey are sent ; if tl¥^y do not make it their great concern to learn those divine lessons, which tl>ey are designed to inculcate ; if, instead of this, they either stupidly overlook, or scorn- fully despise, or pce\ ishly censure, or disconsolately sink under God's chastising hand, in all these cases, affliction, instead of profiting, Vvill rather harden and con- firm them in their evil dispositions. Therefore, by way of improvement,
1st. We may learn the true import of the phrase, which is so often on our tongues, in our addresses both to God and men. I mean w hen we express a \\'ish, or a peti- tion, that such an affliction may be sanctified to ourseh'es or to others. Then is affliction sanctified to a person, when he is truly sanctified by the affliction ; or is so profited, as to be made a partaker of God's holiness ; ^vhen his love and conformity to God, and preparation for the final enjoyment of him are hereby increased. *' O that this bereavement may be sanctified to me," is a language frequently spoken ; but what sense, or Avhat sincerity is there in this expression, as used by those persons, who appear to ha\ e no thought nor desire of be- ing made better by their affliction ; who manifest no earnest solicitude to have their proud, worldly, idola- trous affections cured by this discipline ; but who will perhaps indulge those very unsanctified tempers under the rod, which directly contradict and defeat a sanctified and beneficial improvement of it? Again,
2. Our subject teaches us, that the best way of mourning our departed friends, is by really profiting by their deaths ; by living as they desire ; by living agree-
280 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. [Ser.XXT.
ably to their dying advice ; to the forcible eloquence of their expiring groans, their solemn funeral solemnities, and tlieir sacred, but mouldering tombs : to behave in such a manner, as would best please and gratify them, if they could distinctly vieAi' our conduct from the world of spirits. It is not enough, ye mourners, to di'Op a few tears at the decease or biu'ial of your dear rela- ti^'es, and then go aAvay and forget, or treat v."ith neglect^ the silent and soft address of their death beds, or their last friendly counsels to you, and good wishes and pray- ers for you. To do this, is to act as senseless apart, as the herds, which trample and graze upon their graves ; it is to tread under feet their agonies, to trifle Avith their anguish, and frustrate their death. Therefore,
3. Let us all examine ho\v w^e have felt and behaved tinder such strokes as these. Especially let those of us make the inquiry, whose hearts God has lately wound- ed in this way. Let each of us ask his o^vn heart, Have I seen the emptiness of creatures, and recalled my hope and confidence from every thing below God ? Have I, in this severe trial, felt my heart bow in quiet subjection to the great Father of spirits ? Have I showed, that I loved God abo^^e the dearest creature enjoyments, so that I could 'willingly acquiesce in his soA'creigu pleasure, and give up my beloved friend at his demand ? Have I, by this affliction, been led into a more thorough acquaintance with my own heart, and been made truly humble and penitent for those inordinate, those idola- trous, those rebellious affections, which lurk there? Have I been led to a serious review of my past behaviour toward m}- relatives deceased ; and do I feel thankful to God for whatever kindness and duty he has enabled me to perform to them, and penitent for every instance of neglect and unfaithfulness ? Am I quickened hereby to
Ser.XXI.] benefits of affliction. 281
greater zeal and fidelity in discharging my duty to my surviving friends ? Do I feel my heart more disengaged from earth, more weaned from life, more reconciled to death, and more attracted to the world of spirits, now another beloved object has gone thither before me '? Do I feel and live more as a borderer on the eternal world, since a part of me has now fled to it ? And am I ready to follo^v, if I should quickly receive the summons ? Happ)', thrice happy, those mourners, who are taught to improve the death of friends to such noble purposes ? The temporal loss, in this case, is converted into infi- nite, immortal gain. But'if any of us are not engaged in making this improvement, w^e have reason to mourn with an emphasis ; for we have lost not only our deai* relatives, but likewise the whole spirit and benefit of the affliction. We have cause to weep, not merely over the dead bodies of our friends, but over our o\vn stupid, dead, miserable souls, which are a tliousand times more shocking spectacles.
To conclude ; let all the members of this society, whether old or young, parents or children ; whether part-, ners in the nuptial relation, or brethren and sisters of the same family ; let them all attend to those important lessons, which such a crowd of deaths addresses to each of them respectively. By these strokes as ^vell, as in numberless other ways, God has been often warning and reproving you. O beware! lest, by a stupid or per- verse disregard, you incur that awful doom. Proverbs xxix. 1. *'He that, being often reproved, har-
DENETH HIS NECK, SHALL SUDDENLY BE DESTROY^ ED, AND THAT WITHOUT REMEDY."
©ennon xxii.
On the Duty and Advantages of worlhip- ping God.*
Psalm xcv. 6.
Q come, let us wors/iip and bow down ; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
XN an age, like the present, when the duties of piety, especially the public offices of devotion, arc either superficially attended, carelessly omitted, or openly ridiculed ; when everything, which indicates a scrupulous or fervent performance of them, is styled vulgar suj^ersti- tion or enthusiasm ; it may not be unprofitable to employ a {^w moments in explaining, recommending, and vindicating the good old practice of worship])ing the Lord our Maker. The earnest invitation to this duty, contained in our text and in numberless similar passages of scripture, prove, that the observance of it is of high antiquity, and has ever formed a distinguished trait in the most excellent human characters.
To ^\'orship God, in the largest sense of the phrase, is to entertain just sentiments of him in our understandings, with correspondent afiections to^vard him in our hearts ; and to manifest these in our external language and behaviour, especially in solemn stated exercises of adora- tion and praise, of pra}'cr and thanksgiving. The scver-
• The swbstance of tliis discourse M'as dellvereJ at a public lecture, in Harvard University, Feb. 25, 1794.
Ser.XXII.] duty and advantages, &c. 283
al inward affections toward the Deity, which constitute the soul of acceptable worship, and of all religious good- ness, may be summed up in two words, veneration and love ; the former comporting with the majestic and aw- ful, the latter, with the more amiable and beneficent attri- butes of God.
That we ought to possess these internal feelings to- ward our Maker, and to express and promote then-u by frequent acts both of private and social worship, may be proved by various topics of argument.
Such pious exercises are, in the first place, fit and beautiful in themselves. «
They correspond to the nature both of God and man. They are a just tribute to the various perfections and relations of the Deity, and most congenial to the nobler powers and affections of his dependent and rational off- spring. Is it not entirel}^ reasonable and congruous, that^ve should admire supreme greatness, dread infinite' power and justice, love perfect goodness and beauty, confide in unchangeable mercy and truth, and cheerfully submit to unerring wisdom and rectitude ? Does not our conscious, unceasing dependence upon the Being, who made us, oblige us to constant prayer? Does not every ray of comfort and of hope, which enlightens and cheers our existence, demand our fervent gratitude and praise to him, who is continually dispensing these re- fi-eshing beams ? Does the tenderness of a parent, the fidelity of a friend, or the still greater virtues of the pat- riot swell our bosoms with unutterable sentiments of grateful respect? And is the original, the universal Par- ent, Friend, and Benefactor, the great Inspirer of e\'ery thing, which is amiable or kind in his creatures ; is he to be treated with cold or contemptuous neglect ? Shall those overflov/ings of heart* those ardent acknowledg- s s
284 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Ser.XXII,
ments, which imperfect human excellence and benefi- cence command, be ridiculed as foolish superstition or enthusiasm, when paid to the infinite summary and fountain of good ? How absurd is that philosophy, how preposterous those pretensions to wit or liberality, which can thus pour contempt on the most rational and noble employment of man ? The eye of true philosophy per- ceives a far higher fitness, proportion, and beauty in such devout exercises of intellicyent creatures toward
o
their infinitely glorious and beneficent Creator, than in the application of similar or equal mathematical figures, one to another, or the most orderly mutual adjustment of natural bodies. It pronounces that Being to be the proper adequate object of our understandings and hearts, who is at once the first truth and the sovereign good. It proclaims him to be a pitiful and wretched philoso- pher, who stops at visible effects and secondary causes, w hile he overlooks or despises the prime Mover, the glorious, all pervading Spirit of the universe. Sound philosophy, tlierefore, both natural and moral, directly leads to devotion, and terminates in it, as its proper end and its hignest perfection.
We may add, the main dignity of our nature, as dis' tinguished from the inanimate and the brutal, consists in our capacity of contemplating, adoring, and enjoying the great Author and Ruler of the universe.
Man, therefore, is evidently constituted the high priest of the visible creation, and is placed in this au- gust temple of the Deity, that he may offer up the in- cense of devout homage and praise for himself and for all inferior creatures.
It deserves our special attention, that mankind are plainly formed for this sacred employment, not only in their individual, but also in their social capacity. As we
Sir. XXII.l OF WORSHIPPING^ GOD. 285
are capable of, and strongly inclined to society, and de- rive a large portion of our pleasures and advantages from a mutual communication of our thoughts and feelings ; it follows, that our devotional sentiments as Mell, as oth- ers ought to be expressed, enlivened, and improved by social intercourse, or by united petitions and thanksgiv- ings to the common source of ail our blessings and hopes. As there are in every society, \vhether domestic or literary, religious or political, common privileges, comforts, and wants, a due sense of these cannot be man- ifested but by common or joint exercises of devotion.
Accordingly, social or public M'orship of the Deity has been instituted and practised b}^ all nations of men from the beginning to this day ; and the appointment of a weekly Sabbath, for this important purpose, is coeval with the creation.
Which leads us to add, that devout exercises toward the Most High are fi'equently enjoined in the Word of God, as an essential part and instrument of virtue. The worship of our Maker in the closet, in the family, and in public, is recommended in scripture by precept and example, by divine incitement and promise.
This remark anticipates, and sufficiently refutes an objection, which is sometimes brought against vocal, and especially public addresses to our Maker. It is said, that these outward forms are of no advantage either to God or man ; that rational homage to our Creator consists wholly in proper sentiments and dispositions of mind ; and that these are best cultivated by private study and meditation.
To this we reply, if these pious sentiments and feel- ings exist with due vigour in our bosoms, they will break forth into direct and fervent acknowledgments ; they will prompt the most open and expressive testimo-
286 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Ser. XXII,
nies of respect and gratitude to their infinite object. This assertion is verified by the obvious frame and constant experience of mankind. Hoav did the rever- ence and affection of Americans toAvard their admired Washington burst forth into the most emulous and ardent expressions of love and honour, when he fa- voured th? several states, a few years since, with his presence ?
In short, the propriety and obligation of public relig- ious worship are enforced by three distinct and weighty 'considerations.
First, by the regard, which we owe to the Deity.
As we have already shown, that pious inward senti- ments and emotions toward our Creator are the glory of our nature ; so a decent and manly avowal of these sentiments, before the world, is a tribute, which we owe to God as well, as to man. This avowal is strikingly made by public devotion. Certainly no sober persorj can think, that he discharges his duty to God, if his pi- ety shrinks from the public eye, and conceals itself un- der the \'eil of retirement, as though he were ashamed of his intercession with the Author and end of his being.
If, my brethren, we really believe in the existence and perfections, the revelativon and providence of God, let us show our faith b}^ our practice ; not indeed by an ostentatious, superstitious, or fanatical display of relig- ious strictness and zeal ; but by a regular attendance on tho^e venerable Christian institutions, which are signifi- cant and honourable memorials of the Deity to all the surrounding world. If a principle of rational and scrip- tural piety be established in our hearts, it w ill be gener- ous, ardent, and diffusi\ e ; we shall feel, that our own solitary homage is too small a tribute to the Being, whom we adore ; we shall m ish to kindle the same de-
Ser.XXII.] of worshipping god. 287
vout flame in every creature arpiind us ; and, like the fervent psalmist, we shall call on the earth and hea\'ens, on angels and men, to unite in swelling the song of praise. Which leads me,
Secondly, to enforce this duty by the regard we oivc to mankind.
Even enlightened deists and atheists have confessed the utility of religion, and especially of Christianity, to human society. Consequently, on their own principles, they ought to reverence and support those institutions, by vvliich its influence is preserved and diifused. But how much greater is this obligation on those, w^ho pro- fessedly believe not only in the excellence and useful- *ness, but also in the divine authenticity of the gospel ; who believe, that it is at once a well adapted and divinel)'- appointed mean of making men good and happy, both for this world and the next ? How eminently does this consideration bind the duty before us on those, M-hose wealth, station, or influence renders their example pecu- liai'ly efiicacious on the lower orders of society ! Com- mon humanity, and even policy as well, as Christian benevolence should induce such persons to go before the multitude in the road of exemplary virtue and relig- ion, particularly in a conspicuous regard to the duties of public Christian worship and institutions on the Lord's day, which are granted to be peculiarly benefi- cial and consolatory to the poor and labouring part of the community. It is a just and striking observation of the great Mr. Neckar, that " the appointment of a day of weekly rest and social worship, especially as connected with public instruction in Christian piety and morality, is a most benevolent act to the great mass of mankind, and the result of enlarged and generous poli- cy, if viewed merely in its aspect upon the order and happiness of society."
28S DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [See.XXIL
How important, then, is it, tliat the dependent and il- literate multitude should be taught and encouraged by the example of their superiors duly to estimate and im- prove these precious advantages ! How cruel, how ex- tensively pernicious the ei^ect, when the poor are in- structed by the conduct of the rich, and the more igno- rant by the practice of the learned, that there is no truth in the doctrines, no obligation in the precepts, no advan- tage in the public ceremonies, no reality in the consolar tians and hopes of Christianity ! This leads me to add,
Thirdly, that these public exercises of religion are recommended to us by the great private advantages, which may accrue to ourselves.
Even those, who move in the highest or most illumi- pated spheres of society, may derive much improvement from this source. Their religious and moral principles will receive new vigour and confirmation by the habit of openly avowing and exercising them in the presence and society of others. The weekly return of these du- ties suspends that perpetual current of professional busir ness, of worldly cares or amusements, which would otherwise leave little or no leisure nor disposition for se- rious reflection. It calls us away from the scenes of dissipation ; awakens the mind from its enchanting de- lirium ; places its own moral picture steadily before it ; and makes it feel its connexion with a moral governor and an eternal Judge. It enlightens and awes ; it quickr ens and comforts us afresh with the great principles and prospects of revelation. In so impure and tempting a re- gion, as the present world, the most contemplati\'e, im- proved, and virtuous characters need a frequent and lively inculcation of those divine truths, by ^^ hich relig- ious goodness is nourished and fortified. How much more needful, then, is this inculcation to the ignorant.
Ser. XXII.] OF WORSHIPPING GOD, 28f
the careless, and the vicious ! To all which, we may add, tliat the gracious presence of God, by his a\\'aken- ing, sanctifying, and comforting Spirit is, by the prom- ises of scripture, eminently connected ^v'ith a serious and uniform attendance on the duties of his sanctuary. In this respect " The Lord lo\eth the gates of Zion more, than all the dwellings of Jacob."
These observations anticipate and sufficiently answer several modern objectionij, which are brought against the public forms of religious worship.
Can a person, then, duly realize and be properly af- fected with the constant presence, the transcendent per- fections and benefits of the Deity, without testifying his regards to him by the exercises both of private and pub- lic devotion ? Besides, devout affections, like all others, are not only -naturally expressed, but enlivened and in- creased by correspondent, external behaviour and lan- guage ; insomuch, that e^Try sincere act of worship, even in private, cherishes the inward flame of devotion, and promotes every pious and virtuous disposition in a far more effectual manner, than can be done by mere contemplation.
But public Vv'orship produces this effect in a still high- er degree ; for it raises and improves de^'otional feel- ings by the power of sympathy and example. The pi- ous fervour of one is hereby communicated to anoth- er, and thus extends its influence to all the specta- tors.
It also refines and strengthens the social affections. By frequently approaching our heavoily Parent, in unit- ed worship, V. e are led to feel toward one another, as children of one famil}', as standing on a level in the presence of our impartial and merciful Judge ; and thus it levels the little distinctions of rank, of personal or
290 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Ser.XXII,
mental accompiishments ; cherishes a truly republican and Christian equality ; and cements all classes of soci- etv in the bonds of mutual kindness and charity.
In short, social worship, joined with public, religious instruction, is the grand instrument of spreading knowl- edge and civilization, humanity and piety, through the community, and of handing them down to future gen- erations..
It is evident, that these great objects could not be at- tained by private reading, meditation, or even devotion, however seriously or steadily performed. Suppose, for example, the anniversary of American independence were observed only by those refined individuals, who could entertain and improve their minds by reading or reflecting on that great event in studious retirement ; would this ansAver the purposes of such an annual com- memoration? Would it diffuse and imprint upon tlic public mind a just and impressive idea of our glorious revolution ? Would it enlighten and warm the rising generation with the sentiments of American freedom and polit}- ? Would it serve to transmit these sentiments to our unborn posterity ? Your own reflections immedi- ately answer these questions, and apply them to the sub- ject before us.
I have dwelt the longer on this subject, because a Ccireless, and even contemptuous disregard to the duties of piety, especially to the public offices of devotion, is a leading feature of the present age. A punctual and serious attendance on these religious forms is ridiculed by many, as vulgar superstition ; Avhile CA-ery tiling, which savours of in^\ ard, fervent devotion, is styled fa- natic delusion. It is readily granted, that both super- stition and enthusiasm are very absurd, uncomfortable, and danga-ous things. We vrill also grant, 'that the re-
Ser.XXII.] of worshipping god. 291
iigion of many of our ancestors was deformed with a mixture of these gloomy ingredients. But, while we eagerly fly from these extremes, let us not precipitate ourselves into the opposite evils. Let us not neglect and despise all devotion both in its inward spirit and exter- nal institutions. Let us remember, that piety towards our Maker is our first and highest duty ; that it is the no- blest and the only sure support of moral virtue and social order ; and that a regular observance of the outward signs and means of religion is the only method of pro- moting and perpetuating its influence in the present and succeeding generations.
Were these forms wholly laid aside, a sense of relig- ious, moral, and even civil propriety and obligation would rapidly decline, and the great mass of the people sink into pagan ignorance and barbarity. Accordingly, the Roman emperor Julian, a ^'ery sagacious and bitter enemy of Christianity, was so struck with the good ef- fects, which public worship and instruction had upon the Christians of that age, that he recommended their example in this respect to his heathen subjects, and di- rected their philosophers to give stated weekly lectures, as the best method of restoring and extending their old idolatrous religion.
The ideas suggested in this discourse ought to have peculiar weight with such a respectable society, as I am no u' addressing. Both God and man justly expect, that the first University in America should be the prime nursery and pattern of every species of excellence, both intellectual and moral. Be ambitious, then, my young hearers, to fulfil this reasonable expectation. Remem- ber, that enlightened and warm devotion toward your Maker, expressed and promoted by an orderly and se- T t
292 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES [Seb. XXIL
lious attendance on the daily and religious oblations of this literary family as well, as on the weekly solemni- ties of public worship, is necessary to complete your character, both as scholars, gentlemen, and Christians, and to secure your future acceptance, usefulness, and honour in the higher departments of civil and religious society.
Let me then urge this duty upon you by every argu- ment of common propriety and decorum ; of humanity and friendship to the lower classes of the people, who look to you for an example ; of respect to human and divine laws, and to the sentiments and practice of the wisest and best men in all ages ; of genuine regard to the welfare of your country, and to our own true peace and glory in this world and the next as well, as due rev- erence and gratitude to your infinite Creator. Be ever on your guard against every thing, which might betray you into a contempt either of religion itself, or of the means, which are necessary to support it. Beware of the fashionable scepticism and scoffing infidelity of the age. Beware of that liberal, but false philosophy, which places the whole duty and happiness of man in the cold performance of civil and social virtue. Remember, that the interests of morality and of society are essen- tially connected with those of religion. Beware too of that thoughtless levity and that unbounded love of pleas- ure, w^hich too naturally spring up amid the sunshine of worldly affluence, joined uith yotithful vigour and vi- vacity. An intermixture of decent and m mly amuse- ment i:: at once graceful and beneficial in the period of }-outh, and amidst the Hitiguing studies of a collegiate life. But a perpetual giddiness of mind, which never pauses to reflect seriously on the high destination and prospects of man, or which hurries along in an unceas-
Ser. XXII.] OF WORSHIPPING GOD. 293
ing career of low and debasing indulgence, is very un- becoming the votaries of science, who ought to be capa- ble of more close, refined, philosophic thinking and act- ing, than vulgar mortals, and ought never to sacrifice the noble enjoyments of rational and moral, of relig- ious and immortal beings, to trifling and sordid pur- suits.
Beware too of that learned pride, or vain self conceit, which is apt to raise young students, in their own imag- ination, above the need of public, religious instruction or worship, or which inspires disgust and contempt of every public speaker or performance, which falls below their high and delicate standard. Remember, that tiie great design of public devotional exercises is not merely to entertain, or even to instruct, but to excite, express, and promote pious and virtuous sentiments of heart; and that persons of the most improved understandings need, and may be benefited by them in this view, even though they suggest no iiQW idea to their minds, nor afford much gratification to a nice and curious taste. It also merits consideration, that a large majority of our common worshipping assemblies, on the Lord's day, is composed of illiterate hearers ; that these peculiarly need the advantages of public, religious instruction ; and that, in order to meet their capacities and feelings, and thus accomplish the most extensive good, the learned speak- er and his more delicate hearers, must be generously willing to forego many pleasing refinements both of sen- timent and expression. Such condescending and be- nevolent sacrifices are recommended by the best writers on pulpit eloquence as well, as by the best models of it, which the ^^■orld has produced.
294 DUTY AND ADVANTAGES, Sec. [Ser.XXII.
These free, but friendly hints of advice will, I hope, be received with the same candid temper, with which they are given ; and may they operate by the divine blessing to revive the credit and practice of serious devo- tion in this important nursery ; and hence may it spread into every department of the American community .,
©ermon xxiii.
On Forgiveness.
Matthew vi. 12. Forghe us our dcbtSj as ivcforghe our debtors.
HAT divine model of devotion, of which these words are a part, is equally distinguished for its brevity and fulness, its plainness and grandeur, its universal suitableness and importance. In these several respects it unspeakably transcends the highest productions of man. While it unites the interests of heaven and earth, of time and eternity, in six short petitions ; it is remarkable, that the three first of these respect the name, the kingdom, and will of God ; while the other three contemplate our own temporal and spiritual welfare. This arrangement as well, as the reason of things, in- structs us to set up the honour and pleasure of Deity, and the general happiness of his moral empire, as the prime object of our prayers and pursuits, and by this to direct, limit, and consecrate our desires of personal and inferior good. We are to ask our daily bread, the pardon of our offences, deliverance from temptation and all evil, not merely for selfish purposes, but with a lead- ing view to the service, the glory', and enjoyment of our Maker.
The petition, selected for our present consideration, directs us to pray to God for the /orgheness of our dcbts^ and to enforce the request by a plea founded on our forgiveness of the debts or trespasses of others.
296 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII.
The plirase our debts is equivalent to our sins, as it is expressed by another evangelist. Our sins are prop- erly styled dtfbiSy because they render us debtors to the injured law and honour of God, and the violated order and peace of his dominions, and in some cases directly infringe the rights of our fellow creatures. Of course tliey lay us under obligation either to repair the injury committed, or to suffer a penalty proportioned to it. Consequently, iht forghcness of our trespasses is a gra- cious discharge from this obligation, or from this debt of personal satisfaction or punishment for our transgres- sions. The petition before us is, therefore, a request, that God would release us from the threatened and de- served penalty of his just, but violated law, and finally treat us, as though we had never offended. It implies a request, that our merciful Sovereign would not only cancel our past guilt, but confer on us all the privileges and comforts of his reconciled and paternal favour, and introduce us to that transcendent blessedness, which the gospel covenant ensures to those, whose transgres- sions are forgiven. .
In contemplating the forgiveness of sin, three things claim our special attention, viz. tlie original source, the meritorious ground, and the appointed instrument of this blessing.
Its original source is the free, unsolicited benevo- lence of God. Its moral ground is the meritorious obedience and sacrifice of his Son. Its appointed con- dition is a penitent and obedient faith, or such a tem- per and conduct on our part, as become guilty offend- ers, favoured Avith the offer of mediatorial mercy. In other words, the terms of remission, prescribed both by the gospel constitution and the fitness of things, are a deep repentance of sin, a cordial acceptance of offered
Ser.XXIII.I on forgiveness. 297
pardon, as the free gift of God dirough the atonement of his Son, fervent love and dianksgiving to our merci- ful, forgiving Father and Redeemer, and a zealous care to imitate and honour them by forgiving and doing good to our fellow servants, and by the studious prac- tice of universal holiness.
These observations illustrate both the propriety and the true import of the petition before us. For since a spirit of evangelical repentance, faith, and obedience is essentially pre-requisite to fojgiveness, and since the daily, moral imperfections and irregularities even of the best Christians call for the fresh exercises of humble and believing penitence, in order to a renewed remis- sion of guilt ; it follows, that daily prayer to God for pardon is the proper and indispensable duty of all ; for it is but a natural and decent expression of conscious depravity and guilt, of becoming humility and repent- ance, and a suitable acknowledgment both of the sove- reio-n mercv and justice of God. Herebv the humble suppliant pays due honour both to God and the Media- tor, to the law, which condemns sin, and to the gospel, which pardons it ; he cordially owns and extols the righteousness of the one, and the grace of the other. The spirit, therefore, of this petition, implies, that the person offering it not only feels himself to be a sinner, but heartily condemns and forsakes every evil propensi- ty and practice. Without this disposition, the oflender virtually justifies his disobedience, declares his resolu- tion to continue in it, and spurns that mercy, \vhich of- fers to pardon it. If such a person verbally beg divine forgiveness, he evidendy does it in a manner perfectly unmeaning and hypocritical ; at best he resorts to it merely, as a refuge from impending but unmerited pun- ishment, or an opiate for a disturbed, self-condemning-
298 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser.XXIII.
mind, or a comforting licence for future transgressions. It is plain, both from reason and scripture, that such a hollow and even insolent petition cannot be accepted by the Deity, and that a heart, truly humbled and contrite for its offences, must give life, and beauty, and efficacy- to the prayer of the text. This contrite and penitent disposition must also be united with evangelical faith, or a constant regard to the mediation of Christ, as the appointed channel of God's pardoning mercy. This is what is meant by praying in the name of Jesus, ^vhich is every where required in the New Testament, and which forms the leading trait in the prayers of Christians, as distinguished from those of heathens and infidels.
Another virtuous disposition, which ought to charac- terize our supplications for divine forgiveness, is a cor- responding temper towards oar fello\v creatures ; " for- give us our debts, as we forgive our debtors." By " our debtors" are intended those, who, in any respect, injure us, either in our persons, reputation, interest, or comfort. The Christian duty of foi'giveness does not require a stoical or affected insensibility of such injuri- ous treatment ; for the gospel aims to regulate, not to extinguish the innocent feelings of nature. Nor does the duty before us forbid our exj)ressing to the injuri- ous party a proper indignation and grief at his miscon- duct, and prudently attempting his conviction and amendment : on the contrary, the scripture enjoins us to go to our offending brother, and privately tell him his fault: its direction is, " thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy lieart; but thou shalt in any wise rebuke him, and not suffer sin upon him." This text implies, that a neg- lect to reprove an offender is a proof of hatred rather, than of lo\ e. Noj- does the duty in question prohibit us from seeking satisfaction fioni those, who have in-
Ser. XXIIl.] ON FORGIVENESS. 299
jured us. The laws of God, of "self preservation, and of civil society wanant us in such cases to do justice to ourselves. Accordingly, the rules of Christianity re- quire the injurious person to go and make sati^action to his offended brother, and even to defer the perform- ance of religious worship, till he has honestly attempted this reconciliation ; and without this previous step his acts of devotion will not be accepted. Now if the gos- pel obliges the offender to give satisfaction, it authorises the party offended to expect and demand it. Nor does this duty universally imply an obligation to express our forgiveness in direct terms to those who have wronged us. We are bound to do this to those offenders only, who come to us ^\'ith a due acknoAvled&'nient of their
o
fault and desire of our forgiveness.
But the duty of forgiving offenders implies, in the First place, that we sincerely love them notwithstanding their injurious conduct. The second great command of the law, thou shah lo^e thy neighbour y as thyself ^ is im- mutably binding upon every man, especiaiiy on every Christian ; and nothing in himself or his neighbour can excuse his violation of it. If my brother has transgress- ed this law of love in his behaviour to me ; this will bv no means annul my duty to Iiim. If I truly loved him previously to his offence, and heartily forgive him since ; I shall still feel the same benevolent afitection tow ards him as before. Agreealjly, our divine Lord extends the duty of love to our most malignant and injurioui foes : "I say unto you, love your enemies ; bless them that curse you ; and pray for them that despitefully use you." It is clear, therefore, that the indulgence of aa angry, sullen, or malicious disposition towards a person, who has wronged or affr-onted us, is as remote from thq u u
300 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII.
spirit of Christian forgiveness, as darkness is from light, or hell from heaven.
Secondly. This duty implies a sincere desire and re- solved pursuit of the welfai e of those, v\ ho have injured usj and a heart felt satisfaction in thjir temporal and spiritual prosperity. This is the immediate fruit of that affectionate good will, which, as wc have just seen, is included in forgiveness. The man, therefore, who thirsts for revenge on an offending brother, and eagerly lays hold of opportunities for it ; or who beholds v^•ith pleasure his misfortunes and ruin, has a spirit directly opposite to that of the text.
Thirdly. ^This duty requires a readiness of mind to confer with tllfejoffending party, to be reconciled to him on mild and equitable terms, and upon his offering due satisfaction, to comfort him with a frank assurance of our forgiveness and kindness. Consequently, when a person observes an unreasonabl}^ distant and strange behav iour towards an offending neighbour, and studious- ly avoids every opportunity of conversation and reconcile- ment ; or insists on very rigid terms of accommodation ; or lastly, is forced into a reconciliation, and \vilh great reluctance expresses his forgiveness ; in each of these cases he betrays dark symptoms of a secret grudge or enmity, inconsistent with the Christian spirit. In a word, the temper of forgiveness in us must be habitual, constant, and universal ; it must immediately exert it- self on ever}- occasion of provocation or injury without waiting for the offender to come and make satisfaction ; that is, w^ must instantly and uninterruptedly feel toward him such a frame of heart, as we have just described, even though he persists in his offensive conduct. This is evidently implied in the petition before us ; which di- rects us to exercise a forgiving spirit towards all, who
Ser. xxiil] on forgiveness. 501
have injured us, as often as we pray to God for his par- doning mei cy. What a solemn obligation does this im- pose upon us to cherish a constant flow of good \\'ill to all, even to our most unreasonable and persevering foes ! In another place our Saviour directs his disciples, " when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any man ; that your Father in heaven may for- give you." Accordingly, an inspired apostle cautions us " not to let the sun go down upon our wrath ;" for in this case we should be unfit for our evening devotions, and could not lie down to sleep with Christian confidence and peace. The same apostle directs us, whenever and whereever we pray, to lift up holy hands wk/ioia wrat/i.
These observations suggest an important distinction on this subject ; I mean tlie distinction between two kinds of forgiveness, one of which may be styled h?ie'V'- olent, the other complacential. The first is always our duty towards all men, let their general character, or their special treatment of us be what it may. The cir- cumstance of their having greatly wronged us, or of their denying us Christian satisfaction, by no means dis- solves or even lessens our obligation to forgive them so far, as to treat them with tender compassion, with cordial and active benevolence. But complacential forgiveness is not always our duty ; that is, we are not always bound to restore or receive the offender to our bosom, as a Christian brother and friend ; for the mat- ter, spirit, or circumstances of his offence may be such, as to give us just apprehensions, that he is not a sincere Christian ; or at least such, as to suspend his present right to Christian privileges ; in which case we are obliged, by gospel rules, to withdraw our Christian confidence and fellowship from him, till by credible to^ J|s:ens of repentance he has restored himself to our broth-
S02 ON FORGIVENESS. [Sir. XXIII,
erly chanty. The want of accurate or serious attention to this distinction has occasioned great mistakes both in opinion and practice. Some, on the one hand, have indulged and justified, iDoth in themselves and others, a spirit and conduct towards offenders, directly contrary to humane and Christian good will, upon the plea, that these persons have injured or have justly offend- ed them, without duly confessing or repairing the wrong, and therefore, that: they are under no obligation to forgive them. Others, on the contrary, have imbib- ed such lax, or as they choose to term it, such liberal notions of Christian candour, forgiveness, and charity, that they are for extending them to almost all charac- ters indiscriminately : they seem disposed to tolerate, or at least connive at considerable ai ;d repea^^ed irregularities in their brethren, rather than exercise the rigid and pain, ful discipline of private reproof and public censure : they plead, that our divine Master commands us to forgive an offending brother not only seven times, but seventy times seven, and that, if he trespass against us seven times in a day, and only say, / repent^ we are directed to receive him to our charity ; that is, say these interpre- ters, we are to set no bounds to the expressions of our Christian lenity and forgi^'eness towards the errors and imperfections of our brethren. But have these indul- gent critics observed, that the last of their favourite texts expressly limits the tokens of our charity, by suspend- ing them on this condition, if he turn again unto thee^ end say, I repent. By the offender's turning again unto us is meant his changing his disagreeable conduct, and turning back to us with e\'ident contrition and desire of reconcilement : accordingly, the phrase of turning or returning to the Lord is frequently used for cordial re- pentance of sin, and reconciliation to God. By his
Ser. XXIII.l ON FORGIVENESS. 305
sayings I repent^ is doubtless meant an apparently sin- cere or credible exhibition of repentance ; otherwise he only adds insult to his oftence, and thus involves him- self in still greater scandal. On the whole, our Saviour in this text is expressly speaking of a Christian brother ; that is, one who in the main appears a real Christian. He supposes him to trespass seuen times in a day^ that is, to be often surprised by natural temper, by the remain- ing force of old vicious habit, or by pressing outward temptation, into such deviations from duty, as are e\ i- dently contrary to his ruling disposition and character. He quickly recollects himself, laments his sin, volunta- rily turns about, and confesses it to his offended fellow Christian with natural marks of evangelical penitence. In this case it is agreed on all sides, that he becomes en- titled to our brotherly charity and communion, as though he had never offended. But there are many supposeable, yea actual instances of offence, which essentially differ from this in some and perhaps in all the particulars just stated. As such instances do not fall within this rule of our Saviour ; of course the guilty offender can claim only our tender compassion and benevolence, but have no tide to our peculiar Christian esteem and fellowship. Having defined the nature of forgiving our debtors, let us briefly advert to its obligation and importance. These are strikingly intimated in the petition before us. For here we urge this plea for divine forgive- ness, and take this encouragement to expect it, that \ve feel a disposition to forgive others. The particle as used by Matthew is a note of similitude, not of equality ; and implies, that we ought in this respect to resemble the divine benevolence and mercy ; and the particleyc?/- used by Luke is not casual, but demonstrative ; it is not a plea of merit, as though our forgiving others were a
304 . ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII.
deserving reason of God's forgiving us ; but a plea of grace, implying a humble assurance of his pai'doning mercy, arising from the consciousness that his Spirit has formed us to a godlike, forgiving temper. It therefore imports, that the exercise of such a temper is at once our important duty, and a necessary and certain e\ i- dence of our gracious state. Agreeably, the importance of this temper is inculcated by the whole tenor of the gospel. This spirit is emphatically the very genius of Christianity : it breathes through its peculiar doc* trines, precepts, institutions, exaraples, and motives. It is eminently enforced by the views, which the gospel gives of the abounding mercy of God, and of the life and death, the mediatorial undertaking and redemption of his Son Jesus Christ, especially of the import of his last sufferings, and his dying prayer for his murderers ; *' Father, forgive them, for they know not M'hat they do." When we further consider, that an unforgiving and revengeful spirit is very mean and odious in itself, and unspeakably tormenting to its unhappy subjects ; that it violates those principles of mutual equity and brotherhood, which bind men together ; that it unfits them for the right performance both of religious, social, and personal duties, lays them open to a thousand temp- tations, proves them to be Satan's children, and in fine, that it naturally as well, as by the positive decree of God, bars men from final happiness, and subjects them to endless misery ; when we duly weigh these particu- lars, we must see the duty in question to be infinitely important.
I must add, that there is a peculiar propriety in ex- ercising this spirit towards others, when we solemnly ask divine forgiveness for ourselves : For if we proper- ly feel the greatness of those sins against the infinite
Ser.XXIII.] on forgiveness. 305
God, \\ hich a\ e request him to pardon ; It will make the offences oi' our fellow worms against us appear inex- pressibly small. And can we with any face ask him to forgive us ten thousand talents, if we will not forgive a fellow servant an hundred pence ? Must not a due sense of that transcendent ^uilt in ourselves, the pardon of which \\c implore, in a great measure anni- hilate, and make us easily forget the petty WTongs which others have done to us ? Especially when we add a just view of the greatness of God's forgiving mercy display- ed in Jesus Christ. Has the infinite Being, whom I had unspeakably offended, has he in a manner equally unso- licited and undeserved sent his Son to purchase, his gos- pel to offer, and his Spirit to apply a generous and full pardon of all this guilt ; and has he commanded me to show my gratitude to him for this infinite mercy by manifesting the same spirit towards my offending broth- er? And can I refuse so small a return of acknoiA'ledg- ment? O my soul, God freely forgave thee, when there was nothing to oblige or enforce, to merit or even desire it ; and shall not I forgive my brother, who perhaps de- sires and claims my pardon ? or if not, his Master and mine enjoins it. This frame of spirit towards others is like\^ ise peculiarly suitable, wlien we pray for di^'ine for- giveness, because it qualifies us to receive it; for it im- plies cordial friendship to the pardoning benevolence of Deity ; it implies harmony of temper ^vith him. In the exercise of this spirit the soul sees and relishes the beau- ty of God's infinite mercy. He loves mercy, loves to exercise it himself, and is pleased with the exercises of it in God ; is delighted with the thought of being in- debted to infinite mercy for his entire pardon and salva- tion. But the man, w^io has an unforgiving disposition, is unfit to receive divine forgiveness ; for he is an enemy
506 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII.
to that very mercy which must forgi\^e him ; he cannot, therefore, sincerely ask, or warrantably expect a pardon from it. His temper and conduct to\vai"ds others con- tradict and defeat his pretended prayers. Hence God cannot but abhor and utterly reject his petitions. This is strikingly represented in the parable of the debtor and creditor in the eighteenth of Matthew.
I may add, how can we go to God in prayer, and profess friendship to him, if we have no love to our brother ? " He, who loveth not his brother, vv^hom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen?" How can a man love the Father, and hate his children ; be pleased with the character of a Being, who is infinitely merciful and forgiving, and yet be unmerci- ful and unforgiving to his fellow creatures? It appears, then, that a spirit of love, and consequently of forgiveness towards men, is the inseparable fruit and evidence of love to God ; and it will be granted by all, that love to God is an important ingredient in prayer, particularly in otir petitions for his pardoning mercy. Certainly such peti- tions ought to flo\v from a heart friendly to God and his law, disposed to justify and exalt him, and to take all the blame and shame of sin to itself. At the same time, it M'ill not follow, that the convicted, distressed sinner, who is conscious of the want of this pious affection to God, or the humble Christian, who fears he is destitute of it, has no encovnagement to pray ibr divine forgiveness ; for the former may feel this want of hol}^ love to be a great and dangerous sin, and as such may confess ar.d lament it before God with at least as much sincerity, as he can mention it to an earthly friend ; nor can 1 fmd, that such confession and corresponding petition, which ;tre really prompted by the S{:)irit of God, are forbidden or discouraged in his word : and such a sumer may beg
Ser. xxiil] on forgiveness. 507
pardon from God without feeling at the time such an un- forgiving frame of mind towards men, as would render his prayer an abomination. With respect to the doubt- ing Christian, he can at least sincerely adopt the accepta- ble petition of the publican, " God be merciful to me a sinner !"
On the whole, when we rightly use this plea for di- vine forgiveness, as we forghe our debtors ; we heartily subscribe to that divine constitution, which suspends our pardon from God on this condition ; at the same time we feel, that this act of forgiving others is so reasonable a duty, and so imperfecdy performed, that it gives us no meritorious title to the blessing we ask ; and likewise, that it is not an adequate pattern or measure of this blessing ; for we too often find, that our exercises of forgiveness are mingled with piide, resentment, gi'udg- ing, aversion ; but we need and desire from God a free, full, frequent, perpetual remission. We likewise realize and cordially acquiesce in the righteous and good provi- dence of God in permitting any of our fellow men or Christians to injure and chastise us, and cheerfully trust, that he will bless this afHiction for our good. Thus David felt under the curses of Shimei. We also plead and confide in those many free and rich promises, which God has made to merciful charactci's. \^^e view the forgiving spirit, with which he has inspired us, as a proof of our possessing the spirit of Christ, ar.d of our consequent title by the gospel covenant to pardon, acceptance, and eternal life.
In reviewing this subject we are ied to admire the transcendent superiority of our religion to all other sys- tems, and in particular, the comprehensive and excellent spirit of the Lord's prayer, especially in the instance be- fore us. While hauffhty and malig:nant reveno'c is w w
308 ON FORGIVENESS. [Ser. XXIII.
consecrated, as a virtue, by other schemes of moraUty and honour ; the gospel carries forgiveness and beneficence toAvards enemies to a most glorious height, and enforces them by the most winning and commanding motives I How worthy is such a religion of a benevolent Deity ! How friendly to the peace, dignity, and happiness of his rational offspring? How \\isely and efficaciously does the prayer before us engage us to the practice of mutu- al forgiveness, by making it our daily plea for as well as the express condition of divine pardon !
Let us ail seriously examine whether we possess the spir- it of this petition, a spirit of humble penitence, of evangelic- al trust, of cordial charity and forgiveness. Can we read- ily forgive the most injurious and malicious human crea- ture so as to cherish towards him unfeigned benevolence and compassion ; so as cheerfully to assist and comfort him in want or distress, and heartily seek and rejoice in his amendment and prosperity ? Or do we cherish a re- sentful, bitter, vindictive spirit, which takes pleasure in reporting and magnifying his faults, in \A'Ounding his reputation and peace, and which cannot be easy without retaliating the injury ? If the latter be our character, it merits our solemn consideration, that we are not only condemned by the whole spirit and letter of the gospel, but that we cannot repeat the Lord's prayer -widiout vir- tually imprecating upon ourselves the vengeance of Heaven ; for in the petition of our text sye implicitly ask God to treat us, as we treat our fellow creatures ; w'e solemnly profess our desire to stand or fall by this rule ; consequently, the unmerciful, implacable petition- er constructively prays, that God would be implacable towards him, that he v/ould pursue him with his perpet- ual hatred and curse ! What an aw ful reflection ! May it have its due effect on those fashionable Christians, and
Ser. XXIII.3 ON FORGIVENESS. 309
pretenders to honour, ^\'ho think it noble to revenge, and ignominious to o\'erlook an affront ! With Avhat face can such men call themselves Christians, or attempt to offer up their prayers and thanksgivings for the infi- liite mercy of God and the Redeemer, or presume to hope for their own final pardon and salvation ! Let all of this character, and every soul in this assembly, seriously ponder those words of our Lord — " If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neith- er will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses."
sermon xxiv.
On the Connexion between denying the Son and denying the Father.
1 John ii. 23.
TFIiosocver denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father ; but he that achwwledgeth the Son, hath the Father also.
T
HIS first epistle of John, which is called \\\s general epistle, that is, his circular letter to the churches at large, was intended to confirm them in a stedfast adherence to the true principles and practice of Christianity, especial- ly to those great doctrines, which respect the person and ofiice of Jesus Christ. These leading truths of the gos- pel were, it seems, early opposed by corrupt and seduc- ing teachers, whom our apostle calls liars and antichrists, because they vented the most shocking and pernicious falselioods against Christ and his religion. In the verse jpreceding the text he tells us, that these antichrists de- nied both the Father and the Son ; that is, by opposing Christ in his true character and doctrine, they denied die testimony of the Father concerning him, and opposed the character and "vvill of God, as perfectly revealed in and by his Son, who is his best, his most glorious image and messenger. Hence he justly infers, in the words before us, " Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hatli not the Father ; but he that acknowledgeth the Son, hath the Father also." As if he had said. He who denies Christ,
Ser.XXIV.] connexion between, Sec. su
or the peculiarities of his gospel, has no true and saving know lecige of or interest in God ; he has no friend:sir!p even to naiLiral religion ; he is an atheist in his secret disposition, if not in his open profession and practice. But he, who sincerely acknowledges the Son, honours and pleases the Father also ; for there is such a perfect union between God and his Son, between the religion of nature and the gospel, that a hearty friendship to one implies and promotes an equal affection to the other.
The words thus explained will lead us to show at iaree the intimate connexion between deism and athe- ism on the one hand, and on the other between a true be- lief and acknowledgment of Christ and his gospel, and a sincere respect to God the Father.
A subject of this kind is not only adapted to a sacramental occasion, which calls many of us to an open, renewed acknowledgment of the Son of God, but is also eminently suited to the present alarming state of the Christian world, and particularly of our own country, which is remarkable for the increase both of speculative and practical infidelity ; an infidelity, Avhich pours ex^ plicit or im])lied contempt on the great Redeemer of the world, or at least on the most essential truths and precepts of his gospel. It therefore highly becomes the professed friends, and especially the public teachers of Christianity, to contribute their utmost to repel and destroy this com- mon enemy of God and man, and to strengthen them-? selves and their surrounding connexions in a firm attachment to the principles and duties of oiu' holy re- ligion. To promote this great end is, indeed, the main design, not only of the Lord's su])per, but of all public Christian institutions. Perhaps this end cannot be bet- ter promoted than by a serious attention to the subject before us ; a subject, which places in the most awful
312 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser. XXIV.
and striking view the importance of a hearty and resoUite acknowledg-nient of Christ, and the transcendent guilt and misery of denj^ing liim.
The justness of this representation will appear, if wc consider the following particulars :
First. The gospel of Christ gives us the best account oftlie character and government of the true God, and of all those doctrines and duties, which are usually styled natural religion. Consequently, whoever heartily be- lieves in God, and is a friend to rational piety and virtue, must reverence and delight in the gospel of Christ ; and on the contrary, whoever hates or denies the latter, pro- claims himself an enemy to the former. The religion of Jesus unfolds, confirms, and improves those great princi- ples of piety and morality, which respect both the existence, perfections, and providence of one Supreme Being, and the origin, duty, and expectations of man, his reasonable creature. It teaches the essential differ- ence, the true nature, the wide extent, and everlasting rewards both of virtue and vice. It inculcates, and car- ries to the highest pitch of perfection, every branch of moral goodness, whether personal, social, or divine. In short, it reflects the brightest glory upon the nature and administration of God, and is admirably fitted to ennoble and perfect the character of man. Agreeably, it is a notorious fact, that the most weak and i":norant disciples of Christ haAC far more just, comprehensiv^e, and elevated conceptions of a Supreme Being, and of every religious and moral suloject, than the most pro- found and learned sages of the heathen Morld have ever attained. It is equally evident, that the dispositions, manners, and real enjoyments of Christian believers have been refined and improved in proportion to their serious regard to the great doctrines, requirements, and motives
Ser.XXIV.] father and son. 513
of the gospel. Even the enemies of our rehgion are in general unspeakably indebted to early Christian educa- tion and habit, and to those public institutions, senti- ments, and manners, which revelation has founded and supported. From these sources many deists in Chris- tian countries evidently derive that degree of religious kno\\ledge, of moral restraint and improvement, of private and social happiness, by which they are dis- tinguished from ancient and modern heathens.
Do not these observations clearly evince, that the gos- pel of Cluist is a \^ery important friend, yea, is the maia support of natural religion and virtue ? Must not, then, every sincere believer and promoter of the latter be dis- posed to embrace and propagate the belief and practice of the former ? Must not every real and devout friend of the one true God rejoice in an institution, which places his character, providence, and Avorship, and the way to please and enjoy him, in a light so plain, so satisfactory, and honourable ? Must not every lover of virtue wish to guard and promote its interests both in himself and others, by those high precepts and motives, which the gospel presents ? In short, will not every true patriot and philanthropist desire to bless his country and the world by diffusing as widely as possible the beneficent influ- ence of Christian principles and virtues ? Must we not hence conclude, that " he who denies the Son hath not the Father;" that he, who rejects the great Representa- tive, the benevolent Ambassador pf God to men, is un- friendly to God himself ; that he, who resists the abun- dant evidence, the excellent doctrine and spirit of Chris- tianity, does in his heart oppose the similar proofs and doctrines of natural religion ? A man must first deter- mine to Ihc like an atheist ; lie must possess such feel- ings and habits, as rebel against the authority and com-
314 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser.XXIV.
mands of God ; he must make it necessary to his inter- est and comfort, that there should be no such Deity or future retribution, as the Bible reveals, before he can re- nounce and malignantly oppose the Christian system. Accordingly, the infidelity of the present day has, in many instances, assumed the consistent form of com- plete and civowed atheism ; while, in other instances, it has questioned or exploded some of the most essential principles and motives of rational piety and morals ; at best, its votaries have not been such devout and virtu- ous characters, such candid, serious, and diligent in- quirers after truth, as even the light of nature taught them to be. No wonder, that such enemies to God and to virtue should oppose such a system, as Christian- ity ; nor is it strange, that they, who reject the gospel, which is the grand prop of sound religion and moral- ity, should sink into all the darkness and profligacy of atheism.
Secondly. The truth of our text ^vill still further appear, if we view the gospel not only, as a publication and enforcement of the religion of nature, but, as a new diF.pejisation of grace ^ which is carrying on by the Son and Spirit of God for the restoration of an apostate and ruined world. In this viev.', Christianity is a glorious, supernatural scheme of truth and duty, which reason and nature, in their highest improvements, could never have investigated. It is true, that iiauire, conscious of guilt, and apprehending the displeanure of a v.ise, holy, and justly offended Lawgiver and Judge, might feel the w ant, and cherish the trembling hope of some such mer- ciful interposition, as revelation unfolds. But it is the gospel of Christ alone, which assures us of an actual scheme of reconcilement, in all respects adapted to the "wants and ^\ ishcs of nature. The gospel only^gives us
Ser.XXIV.] father and son. 315
such discoveries of God, as are fitted to encourage the repentance, and engage the filial love and cheerfal obe- dience of conscious offenders. The doctrine of Christ exhibits the Deity to our view in the full orbed lustre of his wisdom, purity, justice, and mercy, harmoniously- uniting, yea, gloriously triumphing in the pardon and salvation of the penitent sinner. This knowledge of a reconcileable, forgiving God is very important in the re- ligion of a follen creature. But the light of nature could give us no satisfaction on this point ; it could not dis- co\er how far and in what way the pardon of transgres- sors might consiot w'l'di the honour and good pleasure of our offended Sovereign, and- Vvith the general safety and welfare of his moral subjects.
If then we believe in God, as our Supreme Ruler and Judge, who is justly displeased with our transgressions, and at the same time are friends to his perfect but injur- ed government and law ; shall we not gladly believe ia his Son Jesus Cliiist, Avho came to inform us, that this offended and majestic Being is still ready to pardon and bless us in the way of humble repentance ; that on this condition he can and will receive us to favour, con- sistently with his own dignity and the general good ? If \\Q believe in and adore God, as a Being infinitely perfect and glorious, can we fail to believe in and to honour his Son, who is the brightness of that glory, v/ho is the visible and perfect image of the invisible Deity, and in whose face the glory of the Godhead shines with a mollified and endearing lustre? Shall we not rejoice to hear, that the high and lofty One, whom nature awful- ly contemplates, as infinitely above us, has come down to us in the person of his Son, has united himself to our riature, assumed a personal and bodily form, and thus presented himself to our viev/ in the most near, famil-
X X
516 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser.XXIV.
iar, and engaging attitude ; so that we can now say with an exalting voice, " Behold, th'e tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them;" yea, God himself, in the person of his Son, shall be sensibly with them, and be their God. When by faith " we come to Jesus the Mediator of the new coveiiaiit,^' in whom God and man are brought together, we hereby come to " God the Judge of all," and thus have the most comforting advantages for knowing and imitating his perfect character, for enjoying his friendly presence and intercourse.
I cannot help stopping in this place to reflect more particularly on the transcendent excellency of the gos- pel in this respect, compared with the light of nature and reason. The bare volume of nature gives us only the idea of a glorious, mysterious power diffused tlirough and animating the universe ; but in contemplating this power, the mind acquires no distinct view of a proper person, possessing a definite moral character ; but it rather loses itself in a confused, unintelligible, abstract idea, which it styles nature, the laws and powers of mat- ter and motion, or the soul of the world. But the gos- pel, by holding up distinctly to our view the person and actions of Jesus Christ, as the visible representative of Deity, collects our scattered and confused ideas to one definite and luminous point ; it fixes our views, not on an unintelligible phantom, which modern philosophists- call nature, but upon a real and divinely glorious per- son ; and thus brings our wandering thoughts and affec- tions to rest in their proper centre, in the knowledge, worship, and resemblance of the one true God manifest- ed in the person of his Son.
While the perfections and will of God are thus brought down to us in the person, doctrine, andacticMis'
Ser.XXIV.] father and son. 317
of the divine Saviour ; his mediation and atoning sacri- Jice render it safe and honourable for the Supreme Ruler to remit our offences, and restore us to his favour. This doctrine of the mediatorial obedience and suffer- ings of an innocent and glorious Person for the benefit of tlie guilty, is not only a conspicuous feature in the gos- pel plan, but highly approves itself to those, who have right apprehensions of l[jod and themselves, and of the general constitution of nature and providencCo A just impression of tlie moral character and government of Deity, of M'hat he owes to himself and his dominions, of our own guilty rebellion against him, and the consequent maiks of his displeasure, felt or apprehended, will make lis feel the importance of some Mediator and atonement, to conciliate his forfeited favour. Upon this basis has been founded the general practice of propitiatory obla- tions in the Gentile ^^'orld, and especially the priesthood and sacrifices as well, as principal predictions and promises, of the Jewish dispensation. Indeed, the general series of events, both in the natural and moral \vorld, which is produced by the mediation of secondary- causes or agents, is a.constant illustration of tlie mediato- rial scheme of tlie gospel. Mediators or middle persons are the constant instruments of good and e\'il to man- kind. Thus parents are the great mediums of good or ill to their dependent offspring'. Yea, the innocent are daily appointed to suffer for the faults and the benefit of the guilty. It becomes, in many cases, our indispensa- ble duty to interpose, and at the expense of great labour and suffering on our part, to rescue others from difficul- ties, into which their own follies and vices had plunged them, in defiance perhaps of our best admonitions and examples. In this way virtuous parents often become great, yea, the principal sufferers by the misconduct of
318 CONNEXION BETWEEN THE [Ser. XXIV.
their children ; and virtuous children by the vices of their parents. Vicarious punishment then, or the suffer- ings of the innocent for the guilty, is a divine constitu- tion, notified to us by daily experience.
If therefore we believe in God, as really and justly or- dering things in this manner, in the general course of his providence ; shall we not believe the propriet}- and real- itv of a similar', thou eh fer more iilustrious instance of
.J ' o
mediation and vicarious suffering, exhibited in the gos- pel, the truth and importance of which are so amply at- tested ; and which, indeed, is explicitly interwoven M'ith the whole scheme of Christianity, and is supported by the same proofs with the system at large? Shall we not gladly receive, and even triumph in the atoning sacrifice of Christ, when we have such evidence, that God himself has appointed and accepted it, and when our own situ- ation and feelings, as guilty, obnoxious offenders, con- cur with the general sense of mankind in eagerly looking and crying for such an expedient? Shall our ungrateful and foolish pride spurn the benefit of this atonement, merely because we cannot comprehend all the reasons and ends of its appointment, or the precise manner in which it procures our forgiA^eness ? Shall we dare, with atheistical blasphemers, to reproach this contrivance, as absurd and unjust, merely because it holds up God tlie Father, as subjecting his meritorious and beloved Son to torment and death in the room of guilty mankind? Does not this reproach equally implicate the known and com- mon proceedings of divine providence ? Is it not com- pletely obviated by the \^oluntary consent of the Son of God to these vicarious sufferings, and the consequent glorious reward, which he received for enduring them ? While the gospel thus provides a complete atonement and pardon for our guilt, it offers and communicates the
Ser.XXIV.] father and son. 319
sanctifying and tomforting Spirit, to purify and strength- en our natures, depraved and enfeebled by sin, and to restore them to moral rectitude and tranquillity. If we have just views of God and oursehes, we must see, that- our true perfection and happiness consist in resemblin^^ and enjoying him ; and that our minds, antecedently to the renewing grace of the gospel, are strangely alienat- ed from and indisposed to tiiis resemblance and enjoy- ment. Even some of the wiser heathens felt and ac- knoAvledged this degeneracy of human nature, and their need of supernatural aid to restoie them to virtue and happiness. Shall vre not then highly prize and joyfully embrace that divine Redeemer, " who of God is made unto us, not only wisdom and righteousness, but sanctifi- cation ;" who makes us " willing in the day of his poAver," and who sends the promised Comforter to dwell in the hearts of his people, as a perpetual spring of holi- ness and joy ? If we acknowledge God, as the prime Efficient, e\'en in our common actions and enjoyments, shall we proudly disoA\ n our dependence on his gracious influence for those unspeakably greater blessings, which are implied in a truly virtuous and happy state of our souls ? Shall \\t reject or ridicule the offered grace of the Holy Spirit, merely because we cannot comprehend the mode of his operation ; when we are confessedly igno- rant of the manner of divine agency in the world of na- ture ? If we deny the doctrine of divine influences in the kingdom of grace, do aac not virtually deny it in the kingdom of pro\'idence ? And does not this denial im- ply or betray an atheistical spirit ?
Further. If we believe in God, as the Father of our spirits, which must shordy return to him that gave them ; if we belicAe, upon the footing of reason, that he has destined us for another and everlasting world ; we
520 CONNEXION BETWEEN, He. [Ser-XXIT.
shall gladly believe in One, who will gire us certain infor- mation of that unknown region ; who will undertake to guide us to it ; who will stand our friend in the last de- cisive trial, and secure our acquittance and happiness in the state of retribution.
How very poor is the most refined system of pa- gan philosophy/, or of modern infidelity, compared with the divine philosopliy of die Bible ! What no- ble sentiments and exalted consolations docs the lat- ter inspire in the most trying and distressful situations ! What was the boasted patience and fortitude of ancient stoics and recent imbelievcrs amidst the evils of life, the agonies of death, or the anguish of bereavement? What but an inhuman and gloomy apathy, founded in the extinction of the best feelings of the heart, and inca- pacity of supporting it in seasons of extremity ! But Christianity, far from suppressing, accommodates itself to our natural sensibilities ; it permits and regulates, it sooths and refines our tender passions under afflictive events, while it improves these events, and the sorrow they produce, as frcoh and powerful means of promot- ing both our present virtue and future bliss. Should we not then welcome to our hearts that divine religion, which provides a sovereign balm for every wound ; mhich consoles bleeding friendship and love under the dissolution of the tenderest connexions ; which soft- ens the pillow of sic];ness and death even to the most timid and feeble of its votaries ; which has enabled thousands of Christians, of every age, sex, and condi- tion to triumph over the last enemy, even in its most terrible forms — " O death, where is thy sting ? O grave^ where is thy victory?'*
l^crmon xxv.
Religion the one Thing needful.^
W
Luke x. 42. But one thing is needful.
HEN our Lord uttered these words, he was on a visit to an amiable family, consisting of Lazai'us and his two sisters, Martha and Mary, each of whom was a de- voted and beloved friend of Jesus Christ. On this oc- casion, however, the two sisters honoured their divine Guest in very different modes. Mary, tlirowing aside- every worldly concern, gave herself up to his improving conversation. She " sat at his feet," in the usual pos- ture of a disciple, " and heard his word. " But the elder" sister, anxious to provide an entertainment worthy of so illustrious a Person, encumbered herself \^ith unseason- able and excessive care ; and in the hurry of business came to Jesus with a peevish complaint against Mary for sitting idle at so pressing a time ; which complaint is so expressed, as to implicate Christ himself. " Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to ser\^e alone? bid her therefore that she help me." We must be permitted to observe here, that those persons give not the best kind of welcome to the visits of their friends, who, like this good woman, appear anxious, troubled,
• This was the last sermon, Avhich Dr. Tappan preached. It was de- livered to the Christian society in Brattle street, Boston, August 7, 1803. He expired on the twenty-seventh of the same month.
322 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser.XXV.
or mortified on the subject of entertaining them, what- ever kindness or respect may be the ground of this appearance.
Our Lord, in the words which include our text, re- proves this immoderate carefuhiess. " And Jesus answered and said, Martha, thou art careful and troub- led about many things ; but one thing is needful : and l^lary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." As the " many tilings," which at this time unduly occupied the attention of one sister, are here opposed to " the one thing" declared to be ex- clusively "needful," and to " the good part" chosen by the other, and which could not be taken from her ; ■we may certainly conclude, that this "one thing" means Religion, or the predominant care of the soul, as op- posed to those multiplied earthly solicitudes, which en- gross and distract the children of this world, and which sometimes vex and defile even the best of Christians.
I propose therefore in the following discourse to illus- trate and enforce this great truth,, that religion is the one thing necessary.
By religion we intend a supreme regard to God and duty, or a prevailing concern for our ovrn eternal salva- tion. These tw^o ideas cannot be separated ; for as God wills our final happiness in the way of holiness, so by properly seeking our own salvation v\ e effectually please, obey, and honour our Creator ; and on the other hand, so far, as we devote ourselves to him, v/e necessarily secure and enjoy the higliest felicit}-. Accordingly, to glorify- God and enjo}- him forever constitutes the one chief business and happiness of man. I ^\•ould further remark, that, though religion is made up of many differ- ent ]:>arts, ^vliich respect a great variety of actions, ob- jects, and ends, yet it is justly denominated one thing;-
Ser.XXV.] one thing needful. 323
because these several parts, far from interfering with each other, hke the different passions and pursuits of the worldly man, are harmoniously connected. They mutually beget or improve each other, and go to consti- tute one beautiful and perfect whole. Thus the piety and morality, the internal holiness and external obedi" ence of the good man are but one thing under diiTerent names and modifications : for they all have one origin, viz. the Spirit of God ; they flow from one principle, viz. an upright heart ; they produce one general effect, the gi'ow ing virtue and peace of their possessor ; they are offered to and accepted by the Deity through one Medi- ator, Jesus Christ ; they seek and finally terminate in the same great ends, the glory of God and the highest happiness of man. We may add, that, where true piety prevails, it sanctifies even the natural affections, the in- nocent acquired habits, and all the civil actions and en- joyments of its subject, and renders them so many in- struments or branches of religion ; insomuch, that the real Christian, " whatever he does, in word or deed, does all in the name of the Lord Jesus. Whether he eats or drinks, or v hatever he does, he does all to the glory of God." In short, all his views, exercises, and pleas- ures are consecrated, limited, or subdued by one all- pervading, all controlling principle of rectitude.
As religion is thus but one things so it may be justly styled the one thing needful ; because it is necessary in a sense, which is absolute, transcendent, and universal. When we contemplate the necessity of religion, so many argumicnts rush upon our minds, that we scaicely know where to begin, or where to end.
In the First place, the importance of religion appears fiom a consideration of that Being, who is its principal
Y V
324 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Srr. XXV.
object. True piety is chiefiy employed in knowiiig and loving, in resembling and honouring tlie Deity ; m receiving and reflecting his moral glory. As the mor- al rectitude of Jehovah is the sum and crown of his in- finite excellence, so \ital religion is a li\ ing copy, a visible though imperfect display of this divine excel- lence. Hence it is called tlie image and life of God, a participation of his nature, a showing forth of his virtues and praises : the subject of it is said to Ix^ one with God, to co-operate and ha\'e fellowship with him, to be filled wiih his fulness, and to enter into his joy. What beauty, dignity, and happiness do these expressions con- vey ! How inconceivably important then is religion, which unites man to Deity ; Avhich renders him the im- age and the instrument of his glory, and thus directly promotes the chief end of our being! The man, who is a stranger to religion, lives without God in the world ; he robs his Maker of that honour, and himself of that perfection, for which his reasonable nature Avas chiefly designed. This leads us to observe,
n. That the necessity of religion further appears from the ?iawre a?id value of the Iniman soul. The pre- eminence of man above the brutes lies in the powers and capacities of his mind. Now religion directs these powers to their proper objects ; it at once enlarges and fills these capacities. It strengthens and satisfies the understanding with that divine knowledge, which is its noblest food and entertainment. It purifies and regu- lates the will. It harmonizes, exalts, and gratifies the af- fections. It relieves and solaces the wounded conscience. Jt inspires that inward peace, which is the sunshine of the soul, and the dawn of heaven.
But without religion the soul cannot enjoy peace, and of course the man cannot be happy. For happiness or
Ser. XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. 325
misery flows not so much from exterior circumstances, as from the internal state of the mind. Now a rational mind, ^\ hich feels no love to its infinite Creator and Ben- efactor, no delight in the Supreme Good, no confidenjse in the favour of Him, on whom its eternal fate depends, must be inwardly poor and wretched, though surround- ed with all the sources of caithiy felicity. Such a crea- ture must feel himself in an unnatural, distempered, and therefore painful condition. He must feel the tor- ture of desires unsatisfied, of faculties prostituted, of hopes disappointed ; of passions at once contradictory, clamorous, and u.nbounded ; he must, whenever he so- berly reflects, endure the anguisli and terror, inflicted by an upbraiding conscience and a frowning God. His on- ly refuge from this anguish is in thoughtless dissipa- tion, or in a rapid succession of worldly pursuits and in- dulgences. But this refuge forsakes him in tlie gloomy inter\Tils of solitude, of external danger and distress, and especially on the bed of death. The honest and great teacher, death, gives new light and activity to his reflect- ing pow ers ; it brings into lively view his God dishon- oured and incensed, his Redeemer insulted, his soul neglected and ruined, his fellow men, and even his dear- est friends, corrupted, and perhaps destroyed by his criminal example, principles, or unfaithfulness. To complete this picture of W'o, the hand of death separates him forever from those worldly objects, to which all his aftections, habits, and pleasures were attached. At the same time it excludes him from the beatific presence of that Being, who only could make him happy ; or rath- er his own confirmed depravity renders him incapable of sharing in the pure and refined enjoyments of the in- visible world, and of course subjects him to extreme and hopeless misery. Thus sound reason and experience
326 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser. XXT.
as well, as revelation, assure us, that a creature so form- ed and destined, as the human soul, cannot be happy in any possible circumstances, but must be exceedingly- wretched, without religion ; and of course, that this is the one thing necessary. This argument is greatly streng-thened when we add,
III. That the Bible holds up the importance of re- ligion in the most impressive light, by revealing the w onderful methods, which the Most High has employed to restore and preserve it in our degenerate world. In- deed the whole system, both of revelation and provi- dence, respecting mankind, has been directed to this object. For this, prophets and apostles preached and \\Tote. For this, kings and empires have been exalted, shaken, and destroyed. For this, the church of God and its sacred institutions were early established, and have been wonderfully supported. For this, the Son of God descended from heaven to a manger and a cross, to recover fallen man to true religion, and thus raise him to everlasting happiness. The divine Saviour taught and laboured, obeyed and died, rose and ascended, and still employs his interceding, ruling, and saving power. In a word, the scriptures represent the work of redemption, as the greatest effort of infinite wisdom and lo\^e ; and they constantly represent this work, as having for its ob- ject the restoration of our souls from the ruins of sin to holiness and glory- How transcendcndy necessary and valuable must have been that object, on which infinite benevolence and wisdom have thus lavished their treas- ures ! How precious the human soul, for which heaven itself has paid such a price ! How is man ennobled, how is religion exalted, by such a mighty apparatus employ- ed in their favour ! What an awful and endearing bond does this impose on redeemed men to value their own.
Ser.XXV.] one thing needful. 327
souls, to seek their recovery to holiness and happiness, as the one thing needful ! How unspeakably does it en- hance the guilt and condemnation of those, a\ ho oppose that religion, Avho despise that salvation, which are thus recommended to and urged upon them by the blood of the Son of God ! How can we escape, if we neglect so great salvation !
IV. Religion is the one thing needful, because it is of tmhersal necessit}'. It is equally necessary for all men, yea, for all rational creatures in the uni\'erse. Re- ligion essentially consists in love to God and fellow be- ings, expressed in every suitable way. Now this is equally the duty and the happiness of oil classes of in- telligences. It is as necessary for angels, as for men ; this constitutes the chief beauty and felicity of celestial spirits, as distinguished from malignant and miserable demons. This was the glory and bliss of man in Para- dise ; and the recovery and exercise of this spirit are the main duty and interest of man since his apostasy. In other words, the general duty of men is always ne- cessarily the same, though the particular expressions or instruments of it may considerably vary. Thus, after the fall, repentance of sin, faith in a Mediator, and cer- tain outward symbols, as signs and means of religion, became proj^er and needful, which were not suitable or necessary for innocent man. So the peculiar circum- stances and genius of the Jewish nation rendered many ceremonial observances expedient for them, which ai^e totally improper under the Christian dispensation. Yet still the same general spirit and practice are required, amid all this variety of circumstances and modes. The strictest observance of the Mosaic rites \A"as of no avail any further, than it expressed and promoted substantial virtue and piety. Nor is the most zealous regard to the^
528 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser. XXV.
peculiar doctrines and institutions of tlie gospel of any significancx , unless it produce and nourish a holy temper and conduct.
As vital religion is thus necessary for men under ev- ery dispensation, so it is equally essential in all their civ- il and worldly employments, in all the relations, which they bear to human societ}-. Whether they move in a higher or low er sphere, whether they pursue an active or a contemplative life, the}- are equally the creatures and subjects of God, and in this \^Q^v are equally bound to practise every moral and religious duty. The more ex- alted their stations are, the more need they have of a pi- ous principle to prevent the abuse of worldly greatness ; to secure a sober estimate, a temperate enjoyment, a dili- gent and beneficent improvement of it ; to make them constantly feel the high duty and responsibility attached to it ; and thus to render their useful examples and ef- forts in some measure equal to their extensive powers and opportimilies. On these accounts the obligation and necessity of religion to public ofacers, civil as well, as ecclesiastical, are preeminently great; and tlie incon- sistency of a free, well informed, and Christian people in electing men to high stations, who are not faithful to themselves and their God, can hardly be expressed. The ministers of the commonwealth ought certainly to co-operate with those of the church, in promoting the greatest good of the community ; but how can this be expected, ii" religion be not the governing principle of both ! I need not insist on the importance of real and exemplary sanctity in Christian instructors, because you instantly perceive the absurdity and mischief of a man's teaching and enforcing upon others what he does not heartih' believe and practise himself ; and because you will readily allow, that personal piety in a minister is at
Sem. XXV.] one thing needful. 529
©nee the best recommendjition of it to others, and the best pledge of his pastoral fidelity and success.
We might go on to observe, that religion is likewise necessary in domestic life. It is important, both to se- cure and exalt the reciprocal affections, virtues, and sat- isfactioris of the conjugal, parental, and. filial relations. It is needful to restrain parents from relaxing their just authority by indolence or extreme indulgence, and from abusing it, by passionate and brutal severity. It is ne- cessary to insure that sober and pious education of eliildren, on which individual, domestic, and public happiness essentially depends. It is necessary to ren- der private families the props of the church and com- monwealth, and nurseries for heaven. That spirit, which religion inspires, Will make superiors conde- scending and beneficent ; equals, courteous and oblig- ing ; inferiors, respectful and submissive. It will form men into good neighbours, faithful friends, orderly cit- izens, and useful patriots. The pious man, who acts from principle, will be far more correct and uniform, diligent and resolute, in performing the duties of every situation, than persons of a differe^it character. He will be directed by the best motives, both in the choice and prosecution of his particular calling. His great and conscientious inquiry will be, in what employment can I best serve God and man, and promote my own ever- lasting v.'ell being. As he sets out in the career of life \\ith these views, so his after progress, being guided and animated by them, will, under the promised favour of Heaven, be safe and comfortable, diligent and pros- perous, respectable and useful. Since then religion is so important to every rank, relation, and business, it may well be styled the o?ic thing needful. Other acconj-
330 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser. XXV.
plishments may be severally necessary to particular em- ployments ; but this is alike beneficial to all.
As this qualification is indispensable to every occupa- tion, so it is needful in every condition and vicissitude of life. If vve exult in out\vard health and prosperity^ how necessary is a religious principle to the true enjoy- ment and the right improvement of such a state ! How necessary to keep us in the middle path between sordid avaiice and wanton prodigality ! How often does world- ly wealth destroy the virtue, the comfort, the usefulness, and the final happiness of its possessors, by nourishing a proud and unfeeling, an anxious and craving, a carnal and irreligious spirit ! Nothing but deep rooted piety is an effectual presei-vative from these evils. This, and this only, will extract the good, without the poison, of earthly enjoyments. This will produce a sentimental and refined relish of these comforts, and at the same time, a virtuous and beneficent application of them; which gives to the possessor the noblest satisfaction they are fitted to impart. Agreeably, the wisest of men has told us, that " God giveth to a man, that is good in his sight, \visdom, and knowledge, and joy ;" wisdom and knowledge to regulate his desire, fruition, and im- provement of temporal blessings ; and joy, as the fruit arid reward of his v»ise regulations : " but to the sinner he givetli travail to gather and to heap up," without any po\\er to crijoy, or to do good v.ith his treasures* *' This," Solomon justly adds, " is vanity and vexation of spirit."
If we reverse the scene, and contemplate the child of poverty and distress, how needful is religion to sustain, to sooth, and to sanctify his afflicted state ! When the world frov/ns upon him on e^•eryside, from what source
Ser.XXV.] one thing needful. 331
can he derive comfort, but from the smiles of conscience and of Heaven, from a pious resignation to, and trust in the providence of God, and the hope of eternal glory, as the recompense of his momentary sufferings, patient- 1}^ endured and rightly improved ? Those troubles, which crush the spirits of the wicked, give new lustre and triumph to the man of religion, by displaying the efficacy of pious principles in blunting the darts of ad- versity, and con^'erting them into instruments of holiness and joy.
We may add here, religion Is eminently needful to inspire equanimity amid those sudden changes of condi- tion, to which we are constantly exposed ; to keep our minds humble and temperate, when we are hastily exalt- ed from a poor, calamitous state, to affluence, ease, or ce- lebrity ; and to give us fortitude and submission, when unexpectedly visited with the reverse. In short, piety must be our continual pilot and anchor, both to steer our course through the uncertain voyage of life, and en- able us to out ride the storms, which assail it. This leads us to subjoin,
That the preeminence of religion further appears from its importance at all seasons. To every thing- else, as the wise man tells us, there are appropri- ate seasons ; but this is always seasonable, and there- fore always beautiful and necessary. A professor of pie- ty must never sacrifice his religion to any compa- ny, business, or amusement ; he must appear always adorned v>ith it ; he must be in the fear of the Lord all the day long ; he must rejoice in God always ; he must pray and give thanks without ceasing; he must do every thing to the glory of God ; that is, a pious habit and z z
332 ONE THING NEEDFUL. [Ser.XXV,
frame of spirit, a readiness for duty, a pre\'ailing desire to please God and profit men, must never be suspendr ed. This must regulate and sanctify his Avorldh^ busi- ness, his social duties, and even his cheerful relaxa- tions. Unless this be our habitual aim, we contradict the great end, for which time and existence Mere given us.
This observation introduces another, which is, that religion is necessary for every stage of life, from early childhood to gre}^ hairs. The youngest human being must have the seeds of this hea^'enly temper, in order to qualify him for the heavenly felicity. You, who are in the bloom of childhood, or of 3'outh, need this prin- ciple to guard you against the numberless temptations to folly and sin, which constantly surround you. You need it to improve those in\\ard accomplishments, ex- terior manners, and innocent pleasures, which become vour period of life. You need it, as the great prepara- tive for a useful manhood, a comfortal^lc old age, and a peaceful death. It is needful for persons of mature years to moderate, to sanctify, and to prosper the ■worldly cares, pursuits, and enjoyments of manly life. It is needful for adxanced age, to lighten its burdens, to p-ive dignity to the lioar}' head, to compensate and sooth the decay of animal life, and its pleasures, with the hope of immortal vigour and undecaying pleasure at God's right hand.
Which brings us to remark in the Last place, that re- ligion is necessary for both rcorlds ; while other things are needful in a sense, which is merely local and tempo- rary. AVhen \\e call food and raiment, and comfortable habitations necessaries of life, we use a dialect, which belongs only to the animal part and the infantile state of
Seh. XXV.] ONE THING NEEDFUL. S33
man ; for these things are so far from being essential to him, when arrived at his true perfection, that their ne- cessity and use Mill then fore^'er cease ; yea, he must drop these badges and fetters of childhood, before he can enjoy matured freedom and happiness ; before he can rise to those noble and everlasting joys, for which his nature is designed. Did we, my brethren, fully real- ize these truths, we should hardly apply the term neces- sary to any thing, but that, \^hich directly promotes our ultimate perfection and blessedness. Now what can this be, but religion ? This and this only assimilates us to God and superior beings, and of course renders us capable of sharing their society and blessedness. It is the voice of reason as well, as revelation : ' ' Without ho- liness no man shall see the Lord." But " blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God." " Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have a right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city."
As the preceding discourse has been wholly practical, and has aimed to bring home the importance of true pie- ty to every one's conscience, there is no necessity, nor indeed time, for a formal application. Otherwise we might lament the folly, depravity, and wretchedness of those, who openly despise, or carelessly neglect the one thing needful. If there could be grief in heaven, angels would weep at such a spectacle. We might congratu- late those, who, having chosen and secured the good part, have no occasion for anxious concern about any thing else. But I will only leave with you and n^yself, this one reflection : Our subject holds out to each of us this awful alternative ; v,-e must either become truly holy, or sell our birthi-ight, as rational beings, and sink
334 ONE THINU NEEDFUu [Ser. XXV.
ourselves far below the brutes. We must either love and ser\c our Creator, or share tlic dreadful guilt and punishment of his enemies. Let us then make our choice. But O let us choose life, that vvc may li^'e, and not die.
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