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: THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY,  f 
[  Princeton,  N.  J.  % 


BV  4905  .S4 

Sheppard,  John,  1785-1879. 
Christian  encouragement;  or 
Attempts  to  console  and  ai 


L 


o 


\ 


CHRISTIAN  ENCOURAGEMENT ; 


ATTEMPTS   TO    CONSOLE   AND   AID   THE 
DISTRESSED   AND   ANXIOUS. 


Z'     BY 

JOHN  SHEPPARD, 

AUTHOK  OF  "THOUGHTS  ON  PRIVATE  DEVOTION,"  ETC. 


"  Voulez-vous  sauver  quelque  chose  de  ce  debris  si  universel,  si  inevitable  1 
donnez  \  Dieu  vos  affections  ;  nuUe  force  ne  vous  ravira  ce  que  vous  aurez 
depose  en  ses  mains  divines." 

BOSSUET. 


THIRD  EDITION. 


LONDON: 
THE   RELIGIOUS    TRACT    SOCIETY, 

Instituted  1799 ; 

DEPOSITORY,  56,  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  AND 

65,  ST.  PAUL'S  CHURCHYARD; 

AND    SOLD   BY  THE   BOOKSELLERS, 


PREFACE. 


The  remarks  prefixed  to  those  "  Thoughts  on  Private 
Devotion,"  for  the  acceptance  of  which  the  writer 
continues  grateful^  are  in  great  part  so  applicable 
to  the  contents  of  the  present  volume,  that,  by 
readers  possessing  the  former,  nothing  prefatory  may 
here  be  needed.  The  title  indicates,  that  this  work 
is  designed  for  such  as  endure  distress,  discourage- 
ment, or  sadness ;  but  it  is  well  to  add,  (what  a 
brief  title  could  not  express,)  that,  within  this  large 
division  of  society,  they  will  be  found  most  appro- 
priate, by  those  who  in  that  former  preface  were 
described  as  "  the  reflective  and  questioning  class  ; " 
who  might,  perhaps  as  fitly,  have  been  termed, — the 
pensive,  doubting,  and,  in  some  sense,  speculative 
class.  Several  modes,  it  is  true,  of  adversity  and 
disappointment,  are  both  incidentally  and  expressly 
treated  of,  common  in  a  great  degree  to  every  order 
A   2 


IV  PREFACE. 

of  minds,  and  every  rank  of  the  community.  Still 
it  will  be  found  that  the  prevailing  character  and 
drift  of  these  papers  is  most  adapted  to  the  class  now- 
mentioned.  "  Distress,  discouragement,  or  sadness," 
are,  indeed,  often  the  effects  of  such  a  mental  con- 
stitution. Doubt  and  dejection  on  the  great  points 
where  all  real  hope  is  at  issue ;  and  other  pains  or 
fears,  of  a  quality  which  some  minds  can  but  con- 
jecturally  and  therefore  but  obscurely  estimate,  are 
among  the  "  manifold  temptations  "  which  that  class 
encounter.  We  should  thank  God  that  there  are 
Christian  writers,  in  our  own  as  in  former  days, 
who  think  chiefly  for  another  class  ;  whose  enviable 
energy  and  confidence  breathe  eloquent  vigour 
through  their  pages,  and  bear  up  kindred  spirits 
in  the  same  high  career,  with  a  power  signally  bene- 
ficial to  the  cause  of  piety.  It  may  be  permitted 
meanwhile  to  expect,  that  readers  unallied  to  these 
in  strength  or  decision,  may  be  aided  by  a  com- 
panion not  so  firm  and  sanguine  ;  who  enters  more 
into  the  difficulties  and  sorrows,  (real  or  imagined,) 
which  stronger  faith  and  ardent  hope  might  boldly 
overleap  or  happily  banish. 

When  it  has  been  graciously  ordained  by  the  Au- 
thor of  all  good,  that  Christian  thoughts,  whether 


PREFACE. 


oral  or  in  a  permanent  form,  should  conduce  to 
soothe  or  animate  other  minds,  —  it  is  too  certain, 
from  the  temper  of  fallen  man,  that  sentiments  not 
Christian  will  have  alloyed  our  thankfulness.  But 
it  is  not  less  certain,  that  just  humiliation  and  won- 
der will  often  be  excited,  in  the  consciousness  that 
an  instrument  so  defective  and  so  much  offending, 
has  been  thus  employed  and  favoured.  An  im- 
pulse will  be  also  given  to  each  previous  wish  and 
prayer,  that  yet  a  little  more  may  be  effected  to- 
wards raising  the  hopes,  obviating  the  doubts  and 
dangers,  or  lightening  the  sorrows  of  our  fellow- 
minds.  Our  continuance  in  life,  ever  unsure,  and 
transient  at  the  most,  is  sometimes,  from  various 
causes,  made  to  appear  unusually  doubtful ;  and 
such  wishes  thus  acquire  strength  from  the  thought 
(if  not  presentiment)  that  it  may  be  ere  long  and 
unawares  too  late.  New  attempts  therefore,  and 
the  completion  of  them,  may  be  prompted,  not 
by  an  increased  confidence,  but  by  the  more  fre- 
quent monitory  voice  around  us  or  within  us,  "  The 
nio;ht  Cometh  when  none  can  work,"  and  the  desire 
to  Utter  words  of  comfort  to  some  surviving,  when 
we  may  have  been  called  to  our  unknown  abode. 
In  the  anticipation  of  that  change, — the  hopes  and 
fears  which  respect  human  opinion  and  criticism, 
A  3 


VI  PREFACE. 

ought  to  be  "  counted  as  the  small  dust  of  the 
balance  : "  but  were  these  in  reality  discarded  and 
forgotten,  still  would  a  weighty  solicitude  remain, 
— and  one  specially  attaching  to  that  kind  of  en- 
deavour which  is  in  itself  most  soothing  to  the  heart 
engaged  in  it, — the  endeavour  to  impart  effectual 
consolation  ; — solicitude  lest  what  is  meant  for  the 
sincere  should  be  perverted  by  the  self-deceiver. 
This  apprehension,  as  the  discerning  reader  will 
easily  judge,  has  been  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively  felt, 
with  respect  to  the  second,  third,  fourth,  and  seventh 
pieces  :  which  are  certainly  not  meant  or  adapted 
for  those  who  cherish  a  false  and  worldly  peace,  or 
indulge  unawakened  ease  or  listlessness  of  mind  re- 
specting their  eternal  welfare  ;  nor  for  such  as  (with 
more  wakeful  thoughts  on  these  subjects)  may  se- 
cretly lean  to  the  refuge  of  semi-antinomian  delu- 
sions. The  very  titles  of  these  papers  denote  that 
they  are  not  intended  for  the  former,  —  and  the 
whole  tenour  of  the  volume,  I  trust,  must  indirectly 
show,  that  no  cordial  or  solace  is  intended  for  the 
latter. 

I  am  but  too  well  apprized  that  delusions  of 
both  these  kinds  exist  and  even  abound  in  our  day  ; 
and  that  there  are  moreover  professors  of  religioii 


PREFACE.  Vn 

— not  subject  precisely  to  either, — who  with  correct 
doctrinal  views,  and  (in  the  judgment  of  charity)  a 
sincere  mind,  yet  evince  but  very  little  discernment 
or  fidelity  as  to  the  moral  principles,  bearings,  and 
requirements  of  the  gospel ;  some  also  who  pervert 
its  great  doctrines  when  most  "  rightly  "  stated  ; 
and  others  whose  notions,  though  both  doctrinally 
and  practically  just  in  the  main,  seem  much  too 
easy  and  flexible  in  detail.  All  who  compose  these 
classes  or  approach  them,  (and  the  writer  as  far  as 
he  may  rank  with  either,)  need  to  be  reminded  so- 
lemnly of  our  Saviour's  words,  "  Not  every  one  that 
saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." — And  they  per- 
haps are  more  safely  and  faithfully,  although  less 
invitingly  employed,  who  urge  upon  such  minds 
the  topics  of  self-suspicion  and  fear, — than  he  who 
chiefly  attempts  to  console  the  dejected  and  the 
doubting. 

Not  that  I  am  without  hope,  (for  the  effect  of  a 
weak  and  erring  aim  is  not  always  that  which  was 
primarily  designed,)  that  some  reflections  in  tJtose 
papers  may  tend,  incidentally,  to  awaken  the 
thoughtless  or  remiss,  and  induce  readers  who  have 


PREFACE. 


little  self-knowledge  to  deeper  self-inspection  ;  and 
that  others, — by  observing  the  moral  investigations 
of  such  as  desire  to  be  "  altogether  "  Christians, — 
may  derive  a  new  and  salutary  impression  how  con- 
trary and  how  secular  is  their  own  state  of  heart. 
But  it  is  a  distressing  possibility,  that  any  can  mis- 
apply the  arguments  of  hope,  to  lull  or  indurate 
themselves  in  habitual  carelessness,  transgression, 
or  hypocrisy.  Nor  is  it  a  cheering  relief,  to  re- 
collect, that  most,  perhaps  all,  of  those  religious 
writings  or  discourses  which  embrace  topics  of  evan- 
gelical comfort,  are  open  more  or  less  to  the  same 
hazard. 

As  far,  however,  as  Divine  aid  has  been  sought 
in  our  efforts,  and  a  Divine  blessing  implored  on 
the  result,  it  is  both  a  duty  and  comfort  to  believe, 
that  while  evil  effects  cannot  be  precluded,  the  good 
shall  at  least  largely  preponderate. 

I  have  cited,  as  freely  as  heretofore,  the  thoughts 
of  distinguished  writers,  where  they  seemed  adapted 
to  confirm  or  illustrate  my  own  ;  and  still  expect 
that  there  are  no  parts  of  the  volume  which  the  ju- 
dicious would  less  wish  excluded. 


PREFACE.  IX 

There  has  been  here  no  temptation  to  deviate 
from  that  catholic  spirit  which  I  should  count  it  a 
great  unhappiness  really  to  lose, — but  which  yet,  if 
induced  to  treat  directly  of  controverted  points,  it 
is  possible  I  might  incur  the  charge  of  having  fore- 
gone. Most  cordially,  however,  do  I  join  with  those 
who  feel,  that  infidel  hostilities,  and  national  afflic- 
tions and  dangers,  as  well  as  private  sorrows,  should 
combine  with  our  Redeemer's  strong  injunctions,  to 
bind  all  who  "name  "  his  "  name  "  (notwithstanding 
every  adverse  movement  and  effort)  more  closely 
"together  in  love  ;"  and  that  the  most  blessed  omen 
for  that  Redeemer's  epiphany  and  triumph  will  be, 
when  we  rejoice  to  forget  the  differences  which  we 
cannot  annihilate,  and  join  in  "  strife  "  against  our 
common  foes; — "striving  against  sin," — "striving 
together  for  the  faith  of  the  gospel." 

I  cannot  refrain  from  subjoining — even  at  the 
risk  of  its  seeming  irrelevant  —  a  far  better  ex- 
pression of  these  wishes,  contained  in  an  exhorta- 
tion to  the  members  of  different  Christian  churches 
on  the  blessings  and  advantages  of  "  brotherly  com- 


"  In  your  separate  condition  you  have  all  arrived 


X  PREFACE. 

at  the  same  views  as  to  saving  truth  :  expect  further 
agreement  as  the  reward  of  fellowship. —  Love  in 
the  heart  will  become  light  in  the  intellect :  you 
will  feel  yourselves  perpetually  approaching  to 
greater  uniformity :  —  in  proportion  as  you  have 
more  of  that  visible  oneness  which  will  for  ever  be 
seen  in  the  church  in  heaven,  you  will  display  less 
of  that  diversity  of  sentiment  which  hitherto  has 
distinguished,  and  often  distracted,  the  church  upon 
earth."* 

*  "  Two  Letters  by  Fiat  Justitia,"  on  the  Bible  Society  contro- 
versy. The  whole  passage,  of  which  these  sentences  are  but  the 
conclusion,  is  important  and  excellent. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface iii 


On  the  Value  and  Credibility  of  "  the  Gospel ;  "  and  its  adapt- 
edness  to  our  Sorrows,  Fears,  and  Moral  Necessities  .       1 

II. 

On  strained  Interpretations  of  the  Doctrine  of  Faith  or  Con- 
version, which  may  induce  a  Despondent  Impression  that 
we  are  and  shall  be  destitute  of  it 36 

III. 

On  Suspicions  that  Faith  may  not  be  Genuine,  induced  by  the 
Frequent  Observation  and  Partial  Experience  of  Self-Delu- 
sions  


IV. 


58 


On  Fears  that  Faith  or  Conversion  is  not   Genuine,   arising 
from  a  nice  Analysis  or  Scrutiny  of  Motives  .         .         .82 

V. 

On  the  Painful  Doubts  excited  by  the  Prevalence  of  Evil  and 
Suffering  in  the  World 95 

VI. 

On  the  Difiiculties  occurring  in  Revealed  Truth,  and  in  the 
Study  of  Scripture 115 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

VII. 

PAGE 

On  the  Despondency  arising  from  a  sense  of  Great  and 
Multiplied  Sinfulness  ;  especially  as  aggravated  by  a  Pro- 
fessed Reception  of  the  Gospel    137 

VIII. 

On  the  Pain  endured  in  the  Want  or  Loss  of  Social  Blessings 
which  would  be  peculiarly  dear  to  us  .         .         .         .     168 

IX. 

On  Adversities  in  Pecuniary  Circumstances  ....     188 

X. 

On  the  Fears  of  a  Widowed  Mother        .....     209 

XL 

On  the  Christian  Interpretation  of  Mysterious  Chastisements      222 

XII. 
On  Mental  Illness  or  Debility         .......     237 

XIII. 

On  distrustful  Anxiety  for  tlie  Coming  of  Christ.  A  New 
Year's  or  Anniversary  Meditation        .  ...     278 

XIV. 

On  the  Promise  of  "  Eternal  Life,"  as  the  Great  Remedy  of 
Earthly  Sorrows 320 

Notes  343 

Index 373 


CHRISTIAN  ENCOURAGEMENT. 


ON  THE  VALUE  AND  CREDIBILITY  OF  "THE  GOS- 
PEL ; "  AND  ITS  ADAPTEDNESS  TO  OUR  SORROWS, 
FEARS,  AND  MORAL  NECESSITIES. 

It  is  a  current  opinion  among  people  of  the  world, 
that  "  serious  Christians  " — "  saints  " — (or  by  what- 
ever synonyme  they  choose  to  designate  the  class,) 
have  far  gloomier  views  of  human  life  than  others. 
Nor  can  it,  indeed,  be  questioned,  that  our  estimate 
of  its  momentous  design  and  consequence  is  far  more 
distinct  and  grave.  But  with  respect  to  the  actual 
ills  which  human  life  includes,  it  would  be  scarce  pos- 
sible to  view  or  state  more  darkly  the  greatness  and 
severity  of  these,  than  lettered  heathens  had  already 
done,  in  those  scenes  and  ages  which  the  world  has 
most  admired.  Cicero  quotes  philosophers,  poets, 
and  dramatists,  who  commended  death  as  greatly 
preferable  ;  and  gives,  among  others,  this  condensed 
expression  of  their  sentiment : — "  For  man  not  to 
be  born  is  far  the  best ;  and  the  next  best,  as  soon  as 

B 


2  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

possible  to  die."*  Nor  were  such  feelings  prompted 
by  any  lively  or  confiding  expectation  that  death 
would  introduce  them  to  a  new  and  happy  existence. 
They  wavered  between  faint  hopes  of  a  life  which 
might  be  better,  and  the  prospect  of  eternal  uncon- 
sciousness. Sulpicius,  condoling  with  the  same  dis- 
tinguished Roman  on  the  loss  of  his  daughter  Tullia, 
observes,  "  How  often  must  you  needs  reflect,  as  I 
myself  frequently  do,  that  those  cannot  be  said  to  be 
hardly  dealt  with,  whose  lot  it  has  been  in  these 
times,  without  any  special  anguish,  to  exchange  life 
for  death  ;  "  and  he  afterwards  adds,  "  Besides,  if 
there  be  any  sense  in  the  dead,  such  was  her  love  to 
you  and  pious  kindness  to  all  her  connexions,  that 
she  assuredly  would  not  have  you  so  dejected. "*f* 
Thus  in  a  letter  which,  the  biographer  of  Cicero  re- 
marks, "  is  thought  to  be  a  masterpiece  of  the  con- 
solatory kind,"  the  great  evils  of  the  present  state, 
and  the  great  uncertainty  of  that  which  is  to  come, 
are  alike  admitted. 

It  is  certain  also  that  those  evils  were,  by  the  same 
powerful  minds,  ascribed  in  great  part,  if  not  chiefly, 
to  moral  causes;  to  the  fallibility,  if  not  original 
depravation,  of  our  nature  ;  to  the  corrupt  and  con- 
tagious state  of  society  ;  that  they  considered  vice  the 

*  Tusc.  Queest.  lib.  i.  §  48 — Non  nasci  homini  long^  optimum 
esse  ;  proximum  autem,  quam  primum  mori.  See  the  same  thought, 
variously  expressed,  in  Note  A,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

t  Epist.  Fam.  iv.  5,  quoted  in  Middleton's  Life  of  Cicero,  vol.  ii. 
pp.  169,  171. 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  3 

deepest  source  of  pain ;  and  remorse,  or  self-reproacli, 
among  the  bitterest  draughts  which  humanity  par- 
takes. Thus  the  same  Tully  remarks  in  his  Treatise 
on  Laws,  "  We  do  not  rightly  judge,  Quintus,  what 
Divine  punishment  is ;  we  weigh  the  miseries  of 
men  by  their  incurring  death,  or  pain  of  body,  or 
grief  of  mind,*  or  judicial  penalties ;  these  things 
are  the  lot  of  humanity,  and  have  befallen  many 
good  men  ;  but  the  pain  of  wickedness  is  grievous, 
and,  apart  from  all  other  consequences,  in  itself  the 
greatest."  f  Elsewhere  he  writes,  "  There  is  nothing 
which  makes  man  so  wretched  as  impiety  and 
crime  ;"  J  and,  in  one  of  his  orations,  declares,  that 
there  need  no  "torches  of  Furies"  to  pursue  the 
guilty.  "  Each  one  is  most  of  all  perturbed  by  his 
own  iniquity  and  his  inward  dread,  remorseful 
thoughts  and  an  agitated  conscience.  These  are  the 
untiring  and  domestic  furies  of  the  guilty  mind."  § 
It  is  true  that  even  the  philosophic  heathen,  being 
not  only  unenlightened  spwitually,  but  in  some  de- 
gree morally  hardened  by  corrupt  custom,  may  have 
ascribed  such  inward  penalties  only  to  flagrant 
crimes  ;  but — the  principle  once  granted — it  is  evi- 
dent, that  all  sin,  when  discerned  to  be  such,  must 
induce  suffering  or  uneasiness  proportionate  to  its 

*  Meaning  grief  which  is  occasioned  by  circumstances  foreign  to 
their  ovm.  conduct. 

t  De  Legib.  lib.  ii.  §  17  ;  et  conf.  lib.  i.  §  14. 
X  De  Finib.  lib.  iv.  §  24. 

§  Pro  Rose.  Amor.  §  24.  et  conf.  De  Legib.  lib.  i.  §  14. 
B    2 


4  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

degree ;  and  even  when  not  clearly  recognised  as 
such  by  the  seared  or  darkened  mind,  still  a  de- 
basement and  disquietude  attend  it,  which  mar  all 
real  peace.  Quintilian  has  implied  in  one  word  the 
wretchedness  of  moral  contamination,  when  he  says, 
in  reference  to  immoralities  practised  before  the  Ro- 
man children,  "  They  are  so  miserable  as  to  learn 
these  before  they  know  them  to  be  vices."  *  If  we 
take,  therefore,  not  the  view  of  human  life  with 
which  "  gloomy  religionists  "  are  charged,  but  that 
of  those  celebrated  and  prosperous  heathens,  whose 
character  and  institutions  our  sceptics  have  extolled, 
we  shall  still  have  ample  reason  to  seek,  and  to  pro- 
pose to  others,  merely  as  human  beings,  some  effec- 
tual consolation.  It  is  not  requisite  that  you  should 
be  under  the  present  burden  of  peculiar  distress,  in 
order  to  render  this  appropriate  :  the  very  condition 
of  being  human  makes  it  so ;  and  if  this,  through 
levity  or  earnest  occupation  of  the  mind,  be  not  con- 
sidered to-day,  it  may  yet  be  felt  most  poignantly 
and  irresistibly  to-morrow.  But  I  shall  presume 
that  you  have  felt  it  already  ;  and  this  so  deeply,  as 
to  have  sought  unfeignedly  for  Christian  consola- 
tions ; — that  the  promises  of  "  forgiveness  of  sins  " 
through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  purifying  and 
consoling  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  of  a 
heavenly  life  to  come,  have  appeared  to  you  "  wor- 
thy of  all  acceptation,"  and  have  called  forth  sincere 

*   Instit.  lib.  i.  cap.  2. 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  5 

prayers  that  you  may  truly  apprehend  and  enjoy 
them.  At  the  same  time,  I  suppose  your  views  of 
these  great  things  to  be  not  distinct  and  unwavering, 
but  mingled  with  much  of  unbelief,  or  of  personal 
distrust  and  fear  ;  yet  with  a  growing  desire  to  un- 
derstand and .  embrace  them  in  such  a  manner,  as 
may  lead  you  to  "  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing." 
I  shall  conjecture,  also,  that  this  desire  may  be  now 
deepened  by  the  experience  of  severe  afflictions,  of 
declining  earthly  hopes,  or  of  undisclosed  anxieties  ; 
so  that  any  thoughts  which  may  tend  to  corroborate 
the  importance,  reality,  and  value  of  gospel  bless- 
ings, and  present  them  to  your  mind  as  clear  in  their 
import,  and  freely  attainable,  will  be  now,  far  more 
than  at  some  former  seasons,  opportune  and  wel- 
come. You  are  suffering,  it  may  be,  from  disease ; 
more  acutely  than  any  who  have  not  been  assailed  by 
similar  affliction  can  estimate  ;  and  this,  while  your 
period  of  life  and  previous  flow  of  health  seemed  to 
promise  long  exemption.  If  the  skill  and  soothing 
care  around  you  sustain  the  hope  of  relief  and  restor- 
ation, yet  is  it  not  without  misgivings  ;  for  while  the 
uncertainties  of  continuance  in  life  are  always  great, 
those  which  attend  the  issue  of  actual  maladies  must 
ever  be  far  greater  ;  but,  should  you  regain  that 
health  which  is  itself  enjoyment,  still  may  its  present 
interruption  bring  impressively  before  you  a  time 
not  far  remote,  when  the  efforts  of  art,  the  resources 
of  nature,  and  the  aids  of  watchful  affection  will  not 
so  avail.  Perhaps,  also,  that  prospect  acquires  a 
B  3 


b  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

threatening  vividness  and  awful  nearness  from  the 
recent  or  actual  ravages  of  epidemic  disease,  which, 
by  the  sudden  violence  of  its  assaults  and  dreadful- 
ness  of  its  effects,  arrays  death  with  new  terrors  ; 
whose  existence  or  probable  recurrence  must  there- 
fore fasten  on  the  thoughtful  mind  an  afflictive  sense 
of  those  calamities  which  may  soon  be,  personally  or 
relatively,  permitted  to  invade  ns.*  Or,  without 
adverting  to  such  possibilities,  you  feel  that  at  least 
your  life  is  waning  to  its  close  ;  sensations  as  well  as 
dates  assure  you  of  its  swift  decline  ;  you  are  pain- 
fully admonished  by  growing  infirmities  ;  you  feel 
that  "  the  evil  days  draw  nigh,"  if  not  already  come, 
in  which  you  must  be  conscious,  "  I  have  no  plea- 
sure in  them  : "  the  excitements  and  hopes  of  this 
world  "are  over  and  gone;"  its  prospects  are  be- 
come brief  and  cloudy,  and  the  last  shades  of  its 
evening  are  near.  Or  you  have  encountered  what 
the  world  often  describe,  in  a  phrase  borrowed 
from  mythology,  as  reverses  of  fortune  ;  disappoint- 
ments and  adversities  have  cast  or  led  you  down 
from  a  station  of  competence,  perhaps  of  affluent  en- 
joyments, to  experience  the  diversified  trial  of  re- 

*  While  these  pages  Avere  first  being  prepared  for  the  press,  (in 
1832,)  the  cholera  raged  in  many  parts  of  our  native  land,  and  was 
dreaded  through  all  its  borders.  It  was  referred  to  not  only  in  this 
passage,  but  in  the  preface,  and  in  the  ninth  Essay.  Would  that 
our  gratitude  for  deliverance,  or  exemption,  from  that  fearful 
scourge,  were  more  proportionate  to  the  awe  which  its  presence  ex- 
cited, and  the  anxiety  which  attended  even  its  less  near  approaches. 


OF    THE    GOSPEL. 


duced  and  straitened  resources,  to  anticipate  a 
struggle  amidst  penury  through  your  remaining 
days,  or  to  taste  already  the  bitterness  and  humilia- 
tion of  dependence.  Or  you  have  felt  the  sharpness 
of  a  bereavement  which,  if  it  deject  the  heart  less 
than  pining  sickness,  and  chill  it  less  than  poverty 
and  the  world's  neglect,  may  wound  and  agonize  it 
yet  more.  It  has  been  torn  by  the  rending  of  the 
dearest  ties  ;  your  spirit  is  left  in  solitude  ;  or,  if 
some  objects  of  its  tenderness  remain,  they  are  such 
as  must  shortly  be  resigned,  or  such  as  must  lean  on 
you  for  that  support  and  guidance,  which  you  feel 
as  if  too  enfeebled  and  disconsolate  to  give. 

That  mind  must  be  indeed  inert  or  insusceptible, 
which,  by  such  evils,  or  by  some  others  that  may 
equal  or  surpass  them,  would  not  be  impelled  on- 
ward to  muse  on  the  final  term  of  earthly  sorrows, 
and  look  with  expectation  or  with  anxious  doubt 
into  the  great  unknown  beyond.  To  have  no  such 
views  even  transiently,  would  seem,  in  any  of  those 
circumstances,  scarcely  possible.  I  could  not,  there- 
fore, conceive  myself  to  excite,  in  any  of  the  afflict- 
ed, a  sort  of  solicitude  entirely  novel  and  unfelt — 
though  perhaps  to  revive  it  in  a  season  of  its  weak- 
ness or  intermission.  But  in  your  own  case  I  have 
presupposed  a  state  of  feeling  contrary  to  this.  I 
have  assumed  that  spiritual  interests  are  always  or 
generally  your  ultimate  object  of  concern  :  that  you 
are  conscious  it  is  the  want  of  more  assurance  as  to 
those  which  sharpens  every  sorrow,  and  feel  that  this 


8  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

want  leaves  you  unshielded  against  the  brunt  of  evils 
that  may  supervene  ;  so  that  each  reverse  will  come 
with  its  shock  unbroken — each  bereavement  with 
its  keenness  unallayed — every  personal  infliction 
with  its  pang  unsoftened,  except  you  can  attain 
and  exercise  firm  faith  and  lively  hope  in  things 
eternal. 

But  to  have  such  views,  were  they  ever  so  infre- 
quent and  fleeting,  is  to  need  help  and  solace  ;  for 
thoughts  which  apprehend,  though  but  in  wandering 
glimpses,  the  augmenting  burdens  of  trouble  and 
disease,  the  loneliness  of  the  last  great  transit,  and 
the  awful  newness  of  an  untried  being — these  are 
the  most  appalling  which  can  strike  the  imagination 
or  invade  the  heart ;  except,  indeed,  such  as  would 
presage  and  realise  in  that  solemn  future  a  sure, 
and  definite,  and  irremediable  woe.  These  last,  it 
may  be,  you  have  rarely,  if  at  any  instant,  known. 
Hopes,  though  too  vague  and  general,  in  the  mercy 
of  God  our  Saviour,  have  been  palliatives  to  your 
emotion,  when  that  great  question  has  sometimes 
rushed  upon  you — whether  the  spirit,  conflicting 
with  ills  which  soon  must  terminate,  be  meanwhile 
pardoned  ;  and  truly  prepared,  or  preparing,  for  an 
immortality  of  blameless  joy.  For  it  is  certain,  (on 
the  supposition  which  I  have  made  of  your  moral 
and  evangelical  light,)  that  the  sense  of  sinfulness 
— the  apprehension  of  unpreparedness  for  a  pure 
and  perfect  state — the  feeling  of  discordance  between 
your  character  and  the  Divine  holiness,  must  be  one 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  9 

great  source  of  inward  anxieties,   and,  at  certain 
moments,  of  most  painful  forebodings. 

It  is  even  probable  that  this  is  by  far  the  heaviest 
of  your  actual  sorrows.  The  others,  of  a  temporal 
character,  previously  referred  to,  which  are  perhaps 
combined  with  it,  may  have  so  powerfully  conduced 
to  urge  your  thoughts  towards  everlasting  interests, 
as  to  be  themselves,  not  seldom,  forgotten  or  eclipsed 
in  that  remoter  contemplation.  The  conviction  of 
some  recent  sin,  or  the  recalled  apparition,  as  it 
were,  of  scenes  of  criminality  long  past,  may  haunt 
your  memory,  and  render  at  times  that  futurity, 
which  is  our  only  refuge  from  the  woes  of  time,  a 
region  of  dark,  though  undefined  and  shadowy, 
omens,  from  which  you  shrink  with  secret  dis- 
quietude, if  not  with  dread. 

The  writer  also  himself  would  shrink,  perhaps  far 
more  sensitively  than  he  ought,  from  rendering  those 
fearful  doubts  one  degree  more  definite  and  alarm- 
ing than  may  be  needful  to  your  final  peace.  He 
would  be  loath,  had  he  the  power,  to  draw  terrific 
flashes  from  the  clouds  that  overhang  and  confront 
you.  Conscience  has  given  warning  that  such  are 
shrouded  in  the  gloom,  and  let  its  voice  suffice. 
Most  gladly  would  I  be  the  happier  instrument  of 
rendering  your  mind  more  accessible  to  each  inter- 
vening gleam  of  a  true  and  heavenly  sunshine  ;  and 
with  this  aim  I  proceed  to  those  sources  of  Chris- 
tian hope  whither  multitudes  of  the  "  weary  and 
heavy  laden  "  have  eai'nestlv  resorted,  and  have  there 


10  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

felt  the  sole  relief  of  sorrows  not  less  grievous  than 
your  own.  You  will  perhaps,  indeed,  observe — that 
what  I  shall  advance  is  often  more  adapted  to  the 
doubting  than  the  afflicted  mind.  But  it  will  be 
found,  that  although  mere  human  knowledge  is  often 
quite  barren  of  comfort  to  the  sufferer,  Christian 
knowledge  is  the  essential  basis  of  Christian  conso- 
lation, without  which  it  cannot  subsist,  and  in  pro- 
portion to  which,  if  rightly  used,  it  will  commonly 
be  satisfying  and  abundant.  Do  not  suspect,  there- 
fore, that  by  inviting  you  to  a  fuller  appreciation  of 
the  value,  credibility,  and  suitableness  of  Christian 
doctrines,  I  take  a  too  circuitous  path  for  conducting 
you  to  the  fuller  participation  of  Christian  comforts. 
No  doubt  this  path  should  be  (at  all  times)  pursued 
with  a  profound  dependence,  both  for  light  and  con- 
solation, on  the  good  Spirit  of  God.  But  knowledge 
is  the  appointed  medium  of  consolation  and  peace. 
It  is  remarkable,  and  has  been  often  noticed,  that 
the  title  "  Paraclete,"  given  by  our  Saviour  to  the 
Holy  Spirit,  signifies  not  only  Comforter  and  Advo- 
cate, but  Monitor  or  Teacher.  The  "  comfort  of  the 
Holy  Ghost"  is  to  be  attained  by  his  "guiding  us 
into  all  truth  ;  "  no  otherwise,  therefore,  than  by  a 
right  apprehension  of  Divine  truth  ;  though  our 
comprehension  of  it  be  necessarily  imperfect,  and  in 
some  who  apprehend  its  most  essential  points  with 
strong  and  clear  discernment,  remains  very  limited 
and  partial.  The  comforts  which  will  endure  the 
test  of  sharp  distress  and  abide  in  fiery  trials,  must 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL  11 

be  not  of  that  slight  and  shadowy  class  which  men 
of  the  world  may  offer  :  they  must  be  direct  and 
scriptural,  built  on  that  "  knowledge  of  the  truth,' 
which  is  the  portion  of  the  docile,  the  earnest,  and 
the  humble — who  are  "  taught  of  God,"  and  have 
"  received  the  love  of  the  truth  that  they  might  be 
saved  ; "  comforts  flowing  from  the  revealed  grace 
of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  sought  and  implored,  dis- 
covered and  embraced.  Such,  it  is  our  "  heart's  de- 
sire "  that  you  and  we  should  amply  and  unalterably 
partake.  Though  the  writer  possess  them  but  inter- 
mittingly,  and  even  dubiously,  he  has  at  least  this 
claim  to  press  them  on  your  regard,  that  he  per- 
ceives their  incomparable  and  exclusive  worth. 

On  the  more  preliminary  of  those  truths  which 
conduct  or  urge  us  to  the  gospel,  it  will  indeed  be 
in  your  case  almost  superfluous  to  enlarge.  With  a 
mind  so  awake  and  susceptible  to  its  own  moral  con- 
dition, as  I  have  presumed  yours  to  be,  I  cannot  need 
to  argue  or  insist  at  large  on  the  admitted  truth,  that 
we  are  fallen  ;  and  in  the  sight  of  an  omniscient  rec- 
titude deeply  and  inexcusably  offenders.  Our  "  con- 
science of  sin,"  though  it  may  be  quickened  by  so- 
licitous feeling,  is  not  to  be  dispelled  or  annulled  by 
impartial  reflection.  Though  friendship  cherish, 
and  tenderness  excuse,  and  society  may  flatter,  or  at 
least  not  rebuke  us,  and  all  this  because  our  trans- 
gressions of  thought,  and  many  both  of  our  actions 
and  omissions  are  hidden  from  the  eye  of  man — 


12  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

though  it  may  be  also  true,  that  education,  social 
opinion  fear,  prudence,  and  affection,  and  the  direct 
or  indirect  influence  of  religion,  have  actually  re- 
strained us  from  very  many  evils,  and  eno;aged  us 
in  many  duties,  thus  abating  the  edge  of  self-reproof, 
— yet  who  can  take  a  scrutinizing  retrospect  of  life, 
or  even  of  any  minuter  portion  of  its  course,  without 
knowing,  without  feeling,  that  before  this  omniscient 
holiness  which  "  looketh  on  the  heart,"  we  stand 
self-accused,  reproved  of  "sin  "  and  liable  to  "judg- 
ment ? "  We  must  also  suspect,  even  if  we  would 
hope  the  contrary,  that  present  or  future  conformity 
to  the  voice  of  conscience  and  the  will  of  Heaven, 
may  not  cancel  or  expiate  past  deviations  ;  we  know, 
that,  in  their  very  nature,  these  acts  or  thoughts 
must  be  as  powerless  to  undo  or  annul  the  former, 
as  to  recall  effects  which  have  already  flowed  from 
them  :  and  we  may  judge  besides,  that  since  the 
full  and  pure  obedience  of  each  instant  in  our  con- 
tinued being,  must  be  due  for  that  same  instant  to 
Him  who  freely  imparted  and  wholly  sustains  it, 
there  would  be  nought  to  spare,  even  were  it  so 
available,  toward  the  long  reckoning  of  compensa- 
tion or  amends. 

But  we  feel,  moreover,  that  were  this  otherwise, 
and  could  there  be  some  redundancy  of  present  or 
intended  obedience  to  transfer  to  the  great  arrear, — 
that  which  could  vindicate  to  itself  any  compensa- 
tory worth,  must  be  of  a  very  different  quality  from 


I.  OF    THE    GOEPEL.  13 

what  ours  now  is,  and  from  what  in  this  state  we 
can  hope  it  will  ever  be.  We  feel  that  our  attempts 
at  accordance  with  the  inadequate  standard  of  con- 
science (itself  so  unfixed  and  partial)  —  and  this 
even  in  acts  directly  religious — are  at  many  times 
so  defective,  nay,  so  deeply  intermingled  with  evil, 
as  fearfully  to  augment  in  the  very  performance  of 
present  duty,  the  account  of  present  offences. 

Your  anxieties,  therefore,  are  not  groundless  but 
just.  Most  justly  have  they  urged  you  to  desire  and 
seek  some  efficacious  remedy  for  sin  and  sorrow. 
Without  employing  in  the  analysis  of  motives,  tem- 
pers, and  actions,  any  excessive  refinement  or  rigour, 
— this  is  our  conscious  position  ; — a  multiplied  and 
complex  record  against  us,  a  supreme  and  unerring 
tribunal  before  us.  We  hear,  as  did  that  upright 
and  beneficent  patriarch,  who  was  far  less  enlighten- 
ed by  written  revelation,  the  awful  query  of  an  in- 
ward witness,  "  How  should  man  be  just  with  God?  " 
— and  that  stern  whisper  of  the  eternal  law,  urges 
us  to  listen  to  the  proclamation  of  the  glorious  gos- 
pel. It  forbids  and  disables  you  to  be  satisfied  or 
even  lulled  by  those  faint  echoes  of  its  mercies, 
amidst  which  the  careless  are  content  to  slumber. 
It  prompts  you  to  explore,  with  new  and  growing 
earnestness,  the  essence  of  Heaven's  compassion 
towards  offending  man.  Pray  that  you  may  be  thus 
brought  to  "behold'*  with  such  concentrated  in- 
terest as  a  vivid  sense  of  personal  necessity  inspires, 
that  supreme  display  of  loving-kindness,  "  the 
c 


14  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away   the  sin   of  the 
world  ;"  the  one  oblation  of 

"  unexampled  love, 
Love  nowhere  to  be  found  less  than  Divine." 

Thus  has  it  been  with  all  who  feelingly  believe  the 
gospel.  The  consciousness  of  moral  demerit  and 
spiritual  insufficiency — not  a  nominal  and  listless 
assent  to  theological  dogmas,  but  a  genuine  and  deep 
conviction — has  prepared  the  heart  to  receive  with, 
adoring  wonder  and  thankfulness  that  "  unspeak- 
able gift,"  the  gift  of  remission,  renovation,  and  eter- 
nal joy,  procured  by  a  Divine  Redeemer,  and  for 
the  sake  of  his  '*  one  offering,"  freely  and  abundantly 
bestowed.  It  has  been  perceived  and  felt,  even  as 
with  new  light  poured  on  this  record  and  doctrine 
of  Scripture,  that  when  a  Saviour  of  immeasurable 
dignity,  in  whom  our  nature  was  mysteriously  one 
with  the  Divine,  abased  himself  to  the  depths  of  vi- 
carious suffering  *'  to  bring  us  unto  God" — then  was 
achieved  an  endless,  boundless  triumph  and  vindica- 
tion of  the  holy  attributes  and  righteous  reign  of 
the  Most  High.  All  that  shock  to  moral  order 
through  the  universe — all  that  undermining  of  God's 
perfect  government  and  of  the  stability  of  his  re- 
sponsible creation — which  would  else  (as  far  as  we 
can  see)  have  necessarily  followed  from  witnessing 
the  full  forgiveness  of  multiplied  and  great  trans- 
gression, has  by  this  stupendous  expedient,  by  these 
"  unsearchable  riches"  of  love  and  condescension, 
been  gloriously  precluded.     The  patriarch's  awful 


T.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  15 

difficulty,  already  cited,  "  How  should  man  be  just 
with  God  ?"  receives  its  illustrious  and  joyful  solu- 
tion in  the  facts  and  proclamations  of  the  new  cove- 
nant, announcing  to  men  and  angels  that  God  can 
at  once  be  ''just,  and  the  justifier  of  him  that  be- 
lieveth  in  Jesus."  We  perceive,  and  all  beings 
who  are  spiritually  awake  participate  the  thought, 
that  the  incomputable  evil  of  sin,  the  sacred  in- 
flexibility of  justice,  the  heavenly  supereminence  of 
mercy,  are  all  displayed  by  this  "  one  sacrifice,"  in 
language  at  which  the  universe  must  "  rejoice  with 
trembling."  Other  writers,  however,  both  of  older 
times  and  of  our  own,  have  dwelt  on  the  illustration 
of  the  Divine  perfections  by  the  atonement,  with 
so  much  more  both  of  argumentative  and  experi- 
mental strength  than  I  could  bring  to  this  great 
subject,  that  I  shall  not  dilate  on  it ;  and  should, 
perhaps,  have  done  still  better  by  confining  myself 
to  some  citations  from  them.*  Let  us  rather  turn 
to  a  point  wdiich,  from  the  very  strength  of  their 
faith  and  depth  of  their  feelings,  those  writers  have 
but  more  rarely  and  more  lightly  touched.  I  mean 
the  credibility  of  this  doctrine  amidst  its  acknow- 
ledged inconceivableness. 

By  yourself  it  may  not  seldom  be  experienced, 
though  seldom  if  at  all  acknowledged,  that  reason  and 
faith  are  overwhelmed  and  dazzled  by  "the  height 

*  I  subjoin  some  words  of  the  late  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  :  not  for 
the  reasons  above  given,  but  because  they  are  from  the  lips  of  a  lay- 
man and  a  moralist. — See  Note  B,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

c  2 


16  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

of  this  great  argument."  And  they  have  become  so, 
perhaps,  in  proportion  (strange  as  that  may  seem  on 
the  first  view)  to  your  increasing  belief  and  interest 
in  it.  While  you  heard  of  the  humiliation  and  sa- 
crifice of  the  Incarnate  Word  coldly  and  thought- 
lessly, as  the  mere  statement  of  a  formal  creed  or 
confession — it  may  have  excited  little  or  no  doubt, 
and  even  little  or  no  surprise  :  for  your  mind  may 
never  have  rested  seriously  on  the  idea,  or  tried  to 
expatiate  in  its  vastness.  But  since  you  became  in 
some  degree  awakened  to  its  infinite  moment,  as  a 
Divine  act  on  which,  and  on  a  belief  of  which, 
eternal  interests  hinge  and  are  suspended,  you  may 
have  begun  to  feel  at  times  as  if  that  which  is  "  too 
wonderful  "  to  grasp  were  also  too  wonderful  to  credit 
and  rely  on. — In  this  likewise,  as  well  as  in  that 
sinking  of  the  heart  which  the  distresses  and  pre- 
sentiments of  life  induce,  there  are  those  who  can 
deeply  sympathize  with  you  ;  who  contemplate  with 
a  sort  of  bewildered  feebleness  these  "  deep  things 
of  God,"  like  one  who  should  gaze  upwards  at  a 
mighty  comet,  or  downwards  into  an  ocean-whirl- 
pool, till  his  giddy  amazement  almost  questioned 
the  reality  of  the  scene.  But  let  me  remind  you, 
that  very  much  of  this  anxious,  incredulous  astonish- 
ment would  be  probably  produced  at  facts  far  less 
"  unsearchable  "  than  those  "  deep  things  of  God," 
if  it  could  be  once  supposed  that  a  great  interest  was 
connected  with  them  and  with  our  real  belief  of 
them.    Take  as  an  instance  a  familiar  fact  of  modern 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  17 

philosophy.  You  at  present  may  never  question  the 
annual  and  diurnal  motion  of  the  earth  ;  but  readily 
believe,  without  much  attention,  and  with  as  little 
of  hesitation  or  surprise,  what  certainly  is  not  taught 
or  confirmed  by  our  senses,  and  therefore  rests  solely 
on  scientific  proof  or  testimony  ; — that  we  are  hur- 
ried through  enormous  space's  hourly  with  the 
planet  upon  which  we  dwell.  But  suppose  an  astro- 
loger or  prophet  could  credihly  assure  you,  that  your 
good  health  and  longevity,  or  the  fruitfulness  of 
your  fields,  would  muph  depend  not  only  on  the 
reality  and  permanence  of  this  motion,  (which  they 
actually  do,)  but  likewise  on  your  continued  genuine 
lelief  of  its  reality  ;  you  would  thenceforth  contem- 
plate it,  I  cannot  doubt,  with  altered  thoughts  and 
feelings.  You  would  consider  the  great  wonderful- 
ness  of  this  immense  yet  quite  unperceived  velocity, 
and  the  total  absence  of  sensible  proof  for  it,  with 
a  painful  solicitude.  Doubts  would  harass  you  whe- 
ther the  fact  itself  were  credible  and  sure  :  and  then 
(as  a  consequence  of  such  incursive  doubts)  fears 
whether  your  belief  in  it  were  sufficiently  genuine 
and  steadfast ;  and  that,  therefore,  if  it  were  true, 
you  must  be  more  or  less  obnoxious  to  the  disastrous 
penalties.  Yet  your  faith  in  that  fact,  grounded  as 
it  then  would  be  on  the  best  examination  which  you 
could  institute  of  philosophic  proofs  and  testimonies, 
would  be  in  its  actual  character  far  more  genuine 
and  prevalent,  amidst  all  the  anxious  doubt  and 
awakened  wonder  which  invaded  and  disturbed  you, 
c  3 


18  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

than  that  slight,  otiose,  perhaps  undoubting  cre- 
dence, which  was  given  while  you  felt  no  personal 
interest  either  in  the  fact  or  the  belief  of  it.  And, 
which  may  be  more  directly  to  our  point,  not  only 
would  your  faith,  from  having  been  passive  and  un- 
opposed, become  active  and  prevailing,  but  the  fact 
itself  (of  the  earth's  motion  and  our  own)  would  be 
no  whit  the  less  true  and  certain,  because  it  seemed 
grown  less  credible  while  it  was  really  more  believed. 
This  fact  of  our  amazing  ceaseless  journey  through 
the  heavens — by  which  our  reason  and  imagination 
(in  the  case  supposed)  are  far  more  astounded  now 
than  they  were  heretofore,  just  because  of  our  deep 
interest  in  and  attention  to  it — can  surely  lose  no 
iota  of  its  truth  and  certainty  by  our  acquisition  of 
astonishment,  nor  even  by  our  encountering  the  in- 
cursion of  doubts  before  unknown. 

But  if  this  kind  of  illustration  should  appear  to 
you  not  well  suited  to  our  purpose,  I  would  invite 
you  to  a  different  train  of  thought. 

Remember  that  whenever  we  contemplate  Deity, 
and  the  ways  of  Deity,  we  inevitably  must  contem- 
plate attributes  and  manifestations  whose  "  invisible 
brightness  "  no  "  searching  "  can  explore.*  When 
we  recognise  the  very  basis  of  all  religion,  the  one 
creating,  protecting,  and  providing  Godhead — this 

*  "The  Father  infinite, 
By  whom  in  bliss  imbosom'd  sat  the  Son, 
Amidst  as  from  a  flaming  mount,  whose  top 
Brightness  had  made  invisible,  thus  spake." — Farad.  Lost,  V.  596. 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  19 

— however  elementary  it  may  appear  to  minds  that 
acquiesce,  by  a  sort  of  passive  habit,  in  doctrines 
early  inculcated,  without  addressing  to  them  any 
active  exercise  of  thought — is  in  effect  to  acknow- 
ledge that  which  supremely  and  infinitely  ^'  passeth 
knowledge."  It  is  to  touch  and  lean  upon  the  mys- 
tery which  must  remain  inscrutable  by  finite  beings  : 
somewhat  as  in  directing  our  eye  to  a  point  of  the 
blue  heavens,  or  a  star  that  beams  across  them,  we 
inevitably  turn  it  towards  realms  of  which  none  can 
conceive  either  the  infinitude  or  the  boundary.  To 
believe  in  God  is  to  believe  in  a  personal  intelligence 
itself  unoriginated  ;  self-existing  through  a  past 
eternity  ;  itself  the  sole  cause  and  support  of  all  ex- 
istence; an  intelligence  which  knows  simultaneously, 
at  every  point  in  the  immensity  of  time  and  space, 
each  thought  and  act  of  all  the  innumerable  orders 
and  individuals  it  sustains  in  being.  But  what  less 
is  this  than  a  mystery  unimaginable,  and  "  past 
finding  out," —  an  abyss  of  grandeur  which  angels 
could  never  fathom  1  Yet  this  belief  is  the  only 
true  theism;  the  only  theism  that  can  avail  us  any 
thing,  inasmuch  as  no  other  can  be  in  any  proper 
sense  religious,  or  inspire  a  solid  hope  from  the 
Divine  perfection.  And  ought  I  then,  while  neces- 
sarily holding  (except  "  without  hope  and  without 
God")  a  belief  so  mysterious  as  this,  to  stumble  at 
any  revealed  procedure  of  this  Infinite  Being,  be- 
cause it  is  "  too  wonderful  for  me,"  or  so  "  high," 
that  "  I  cannot  attain  unto  it?  "     *'  He  that  cometh 


20  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

unto  God  must  believe  that  He  is.''  Meditate  in 
the  depths  of  that  thought,  and  then  ask  yourself  if 
you  have  any  pretension  to  distrust  Him  when  He 
records,  "  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself." 

Consider  further,  that  the  organized  earthly  crea- 
tures, in  all  their  vast  diversity  and  inconceivable 
minuteness,  have  been  formed  and  are  sustained  to 
exercise  and  evince  the  power,  and  wisdom,  and 
beneficence  of  the  Eternal  Mind.*    He  whose  "  un- 


*  "The  course  of  Nature,  truly  and  properly  speaking,  is  nothing- 
else  but  the  will  of  God  producing  certain  effects  in  a  continued, 
regular,  constant,  and  uniform  manner ;  which  course  or  manner  of 
acting,  being  in  every  moment  perfectly  arbitrary,  is  as  easy  to  be 
altered  at  any  time  as  to  be  preserved."  (Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  on  the 
Attributes,  p.  377.)  Professor  Dugald  Stewart,  after  quoting  these 
words  from  Dr.  Clarke,  declares  his  own  adherence  to  "  the  simple 
and  sublime  doctrine  "  expressed  in  them,  "  which  supposes  the 
order  of  the  universe  to  be  not  only  at  first  established,  but  every 
moment  maintained,  by  the  incessant  agency  of  one  Supreme  Mind, 
— a  doctrine  against  which  no  objection  can  be  stated,  but  what 
is  founded  on  prejudices  resulting  from  our  OAvn  imperfections."  ^ 
"  The  multiplicity  of  his  operations  neither  distracts  his  attention 
nor  exhausts  his  power  ;  nor  can  we  suppose  him  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  abridging  their  number  by  calling  mechanism  to  his  aid, 
without  imputing  to  him  the  imperfections  which  mark  our  own 
circumscribed  faculties  and  dependent  condition."^  In  the  same 
manner,  an  able  living  physiologist  speaks  of  "  the  Designing  and 
Operative  Cause,"  as  "  perhaps  the  sole  real  agent  in  every  move- 
ment in  the  universe  ;"  and  remarks,  that  "  the  development  of  forms 
according  to  their  generic,  specific,  and  individual  diversities,  not 
less  in  the  vegetable  than  in  the  animal  world,  can  only  be  ac- 

i  Act.  and  Mor.  Powers,  i.  366.  2  ibid.  374. 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  21 

derstandins:  is  infinite  " — who  knows  the  thouo^hts 
and  hears  the  praises  of  innumerable  spirits  that 
"excel  in  strength" — has  decreed,  that  not  only 
stars,  and  suns,  and  seraphs,  but  microscopic  insects, 
should  illustrate  His  creative  and  upholding  omni- 
science, and  fulfil  his  purpose  of  diffusing  that  good 
which  consists  in  sensation.  Now,  if  the  attributes 
of  holiness,  of  equity,  of  moral  kindness,  be  far  more 
excellent  than  those  of  wisdom,  and  power,  and  even 
of  a  lower  beneficence — and  if  the  order  and  felicity 
of  the  whole  moral  creation  be  a  far  higher  end  than 
the  sensitive  well-being  of  some  inferior  creatures — ■ 
then  which,  let  me  ask,  would  seem  more  fit,  more 
congruous  ;  that  the  Mind  wdiich  comprehends  eter- 
nity and  grasps  all  minds,  should  at  each  instant  be 
actuating  the  pulses  in  a  sentient  atom,  impelling 
life  through  an  invisible  worm,  or  watching  the  mo- 
tion and  sustenance  of  "  a  sparrow  ;"  or,  that  this 
same  Infinite  Mind  should  assume  into  union  with 
itself,  a  nature,  lowly,  frail,  and  dependent  like 
those,  yet  rational,  spiritual,  and  sinless — and  dig- 
nify that  nature  into  a  capacity  of  meritorious  suf- 
fering, in  order  to  demonstrate,  in  all  worlds  and 
for  ever,  the  infinitude  of  Divine  righteousness  and 
love,  by  redeeming  human  millions  to  immortal  joys, 
and  confirming  in  holy  blessedness  the  countless 
spirits  unfallen  ? 

counted  for  by  ascribing  it  to  the  universal  energy  and  wisdom  of  the 
Creator."  3 

3  Dr.  Prichard,  Review  of  the  Doctrine  of  a  Vital  Principle,  pp.  140,  141. 


22  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  1. 

Imagine  for  a  moment  that  we  inhabited  a  star, 
where,  while  apprized  of  the  mysterious  entrance  of 
sin,  and  of  all  its  dire  effects,  into  this  distant  world, 
we  had  no  knowledge  at  all  of  any  organized  natures 
except  the  rational  and  spiritual  ;  where  all  meaner 
and  inferior  forms  of  life,  or  semblances  of  it,  were 
either  in  fact  excluded,  or  kept  entirely  latent ;  so 
that  the  formation  or  sustentation  of  such  by  the 
Deity,  could  only  be  proposed  to  our  reason  as  a 
thing  possible,  or  to  our  faith  as  a  thing  actual  in 
some  other  region. 

Should  we  deem  it  less  probable  when  there  an- 
nounced— that  the  Infinite  Spirit  in  whose  love  and 
holiness  we  saw  unnumbered  seraphs  exulting, 
would  deign  to  unite  with  himself  a  feeble,  mean, 
and  suffering  humanity,  in  order  to  rescue  honour- 
ably a  race  of  immortals,  and  fortify  the  holy  bliss 
of  all  the  happy  creation  known  to  us  ;  or — that  the 
same  Infinite  Spirit,  full  of  glory  and  felicity,  sur- 
rounded by  innumerable  spirits,  emanations  from 
his  ow^n  exalted  nature,  should  deign  to  call  into  be- 
ing, and  uphold  through  all  the  moments  of  their 
ephemeral  existence,  countless  microscopic  forms  of 
animated  matter. 

Which  of  these  acts  of  Deity,  may  we  believe, 
would  be  deemed  beforehand  the  less  credible — the 
less  proportional  to  the  Eternal  Majesty — the  less 
intelligibly  befitting  Him  who  is  "glorious  in  holi- 
ness," "wonderful  in  counsel,"  "excellent  in  work- 
ing?"    We  may  I  think  conclude,  and  rejoice  in  the 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  23 

conclusion,  that  there  is,  antecedently,  far  higher 
moral  probability  in  the  one  great  mystery  of  re- 
demption, which  is  invisibly  sublime,  than  in  the 
unnumbered  mysteries  of  creation  and  preservation, 
which  are  invisibly  minute  :  that  the  strange  revela- 
tions of  the  microscope,  if  they  reached  us  by  mere 
testimony  alone,  would  be  more  startling  to  faith 
than  the  revelations  of  the  gospel. 

Let  one  more  supposition  be  considered,  which 
may  further  assist  us  to  rebuke  our  own  incredulity 
or  hesitation  on  this  great  subject.  Suppose  that  we 
were  creatures  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  exist- 
ence and  possibility  of  evil — of  sin  or  sorrow,  pain  or 
death ;  and  were  apprized  by  a  revelation  of  mere 
testimony,  that  in  another  world,  made  and  governed 
by  the  holy  and  beneficent  Being  whom  we  perfectly 
and  intensely  loved,  there  had  entered  and  prevailed 
for  ages,  dreadful  guilt  and  keen  remorse,  and  di- 
versified suffering  and  terrible  destruction.  '  It  might 
be  difficult  to  convey  to  us  by  description  a  clear 
notion  of  those  things  ;  but,  as  far  as  they  were 
understood,  would  they  not  be  of  all  things  the  most 
incredible?  Should  we  not  be  ready  to  tell  the 
apostle  who  revealed  them,  not  merely  that  he  de- 
clared things  "too  wonderful,"  but  that  he  must  have 
been  himself  deluded  by  some  frightful  dream  or 
phantasm  of  events,  utterly  inconsistent  both  with 
all  our  personal  experience,  and  with  all  our  know- 
ledge of  the  adorable  Godhead  ;  unless,  indeed,  the 
very  existence  of  such  an  imagination  might  pain- 


24  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

fully  betray,  in  himself  or  elsewhere,  the  possibility 
of  some  direful  change,  till  then  unconceived  ?  Yet, 
these  things,  which  in  that  supposed  position  were 
so  little  credible,  would  be  facts  the  while  ;  and,  to 
us,  are  facts  experimentally  familiar  and  lamentably 
sure.  Will  it  then  be  argued,  that  the  great  remedy 
revealed  to  us  for  all  these  forms  of  evil — for  guilt 
and  pain,  for  remorse  and  misery  and  destruction — 
however  amazing  in  itself,  is  more  incredible  than 
those  very  facts  would  on  mere  testimony  be,  which 
we  thus  know  and  feel  to  be  indubitably  real  I 
Rather,  is  not  the  provision  of  this  amazing  remedy, 
far  less  incredible  than  would  be  (in  the  case  sup- 
posed) the  introduction  or  ingress  of  the  terrible  dis- 
ease? For  is  it  not  eminently  consonant  to  our 
belief  in  the  sublimest  perfections  of  Deity,  and 
adapted  to  establish  and  exalt  that  belief,  which  the 
prevalence  of  evil  has  in  all  ages  tended  to  darken 
and  perturb,  though  it  never  could  subvert  ? 

Whether  then  we  meditate  the  being  of  God — 
or  his  providential  and  universal  agency  —  or  the 
existence  of  evil — each  of  these  mysteries  strongly 
reproves  our  distrust  of  "  the  mystery  of  godli- 
ness." Not  that  I  would  presume  to  accommodate 
to  this  last  and  loftiest  topic,  the  apostle's  singular 
expression,  "  not  afraid  with  any  amazement." 
There  is  a  deepening  "amazement"  inseparable 
from  deeper  and  more  adoring  thoughts  of  it ;  and  a 
holy  fear,  allied  to  such  amazement,  which  will, 
nevertheless,  be  the  guard  and  the  support  of  love 


1.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  25 

and  joy.  Who  is  not  '*  afraid  "  at  the  awful  equity 
of  that  Divine  tribunal,  which  can  remit  its  penal- 
ties only  in  virtue  of  a  Divine  expiation  ?  Who  is 
not  "  amazed  "  at  the  imperial  fulness  of  that  love 
which  dispenses  nothing  less  than  "  life  eternal," 
the  proper  and  commensurate  "  gift  of  God,"  the 
purchase  of  his  own  voluntary  inestimable  sacrifice, 
yet  a  free  and  complacent  largess  to  the  self-de- 
spairing ! 

But  let  not  these  truths,  because  they  produce 
awe  or  amazement,  sink  us  into  faithless  distrust. 
They  are  intended  to  accomplish  far  other  and  hap- 
pier ends  :  to  humble  indeed,  but  to  cheer  also  and 
excite  and  invigorate  the  heart.  My  view  of  this 
"  glorious  gospel "  would  be  most  blameably  defec- 
tive, if  I  did  not  lead  you  to  meditate  on  its  admir- 
able fitness  for  accomplishing  a  blessed  transform- 
ation on  the  character  of  man  :  in  this  respect,  as  in 
others,  I  hope  it  may  be  shown,  that  what  has  ap- 
peared, and  still  appears,  to  the  proud, "  foolishness," 
does  in  effect  vindicate  itself  as  worthy  essentially 
of  the  wisdom  and  the  majesty  of  God.  Assuredly  it 
does  so,  if  in  fact  we  find,  that  by  a  cordial  believing 
acceptance  of  this  "  unspeakable  gift,"  from  which 
fear  shrinks,  and  self-conceit  revolts,  and  unbelief 
averts  its  half-closed  and  unwilling  eye — there  is 
wrought  a  great  moral  change  ;  found  (when  we 
learn  our  own  wants  and  spiritual  capacities)  to  be 
indispensable  to  happiness ;  the  essence  and  the 
earnest  of  "  salvation."     To  show  that  this  change  is 


26  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

really  produced,  I  might  oiFer  bright  examples  in 
the  history  and  character  of  distinguished  believers. 
For  the  proof  that  it  must  needs  be  more  or  less  ex- 
pected, according  to  the  measure  and  exercise  of 
faith,  a  few  considerations  will,  I  think,  suffice. 

To  "  believe  with  the  heart,"  that  in  order  to  the 
remission  of  our  sins,  it  verily  "  behoved  Christ  to 
suffer," — that  the  "Word  "  who  ''  was  God,"  truly 
assumed  our  nature  into  Godhead,  and  in  that  as- 
sumed nature  became  "  sorrowful  even  unto  death," 
in  order  to  redeem  us  from  a  guilt  which  could  at  no 
less  cost  become  gloriously  and  divinely  pardonable, 
— this  surely  is  to  believe,  (in  so  far  as  the  reality  of 
the  belief  extends,  and  its  exercise  continues,)  that 
sin  is  an  evil  of  the  most  unequivocal  character,  and 
of  intense  malignancy,  for  which  all  creation  could 
provide  no  cure ;  which  even  Omnipotence  itself  could 
not  frustrate  or  subdue  without  taking  to  itself,  in 
that  strange  conflict,  the  very  attributes  of  weakness. 

Is  it  then  possible,  that  he  who  in  any  measure 
really  believes  this,  should  yet  deliberately  love  and 
choose  sin,  should  account  that  which  he  knows  to 
be  sinful,  a  source  of  true  enjoyment,  or,  indeed, 
esteem  it  anything  better  than  a  seductive  poison  of 
the  soul? 

Nor  is  it  less  evident,  that  to  believe  with  the 
heart  in  that  heaven-descending  pity  which  accom- 
pHshed  such  a  sacrifice — in  that  generous  love  which 
would  not  desert  the  wretched  at  their  "utmost 
need" — in  that  blood  which  cries  with  impassioned 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  27 

kindness  to  each  fallen  offender,  "  Thou  hast  de- 
stroyed thyself,  but  in  me  is  thy  help  " —  in  that  free 
munificence,  which,  not  content  with  the  purchase 
of  such  costly  pardons,  holds  out  to  the  victims  of 
transgression  a  celestial  and  eternal  joy — this  is  to 
"believe  with  the  heart"  in  a  Benefactor,  whose 
claims  to  our  love  and  devotion,  eternity,  so  far  from 
acquitting,  can  but  augment  and  perpetuate.  Is  it 
possible,  therefore,  that  the  believing  mind  should 
not,  by  adoring  self-dedication,  respond  in  some  de- 
gree, however  inadequately,  to  these  overpowering 
claims  ?  Can  we  take  at  the  hand  of  heavenly  mer- 
cy an  incorruptible  inheritance,  in  lieu  of  a  merited 
destruction,  and  feel  no  love,  no  devotedness,  towards 
Him  that  stooped  and  agonized  to  ransom,  to  enrich, 
and  to  exalt  us  ? 

Here  then  are  the  two  master-springs  of  moral 
renovation — aversion  to  sin,  as  a  source  of  misery, 
awfully  opposed  to  the  Divine  nature  and  will  : — 
grateful  attachment  to  the  Great  Deliverer  from  it, 
himself  the  giver  and  exemplar  of  holiness.  Both 
are  necessary  results  (if  there  be  any  order  in  the 
constitution  of  the  human  soul)  of  cordial  faith  in 
Christ's  atoning  sacrifice  ;  and  since  the  same  Scrip- 
ture, which  reveals  this  sacrifice,  unfolds  the  aspects 
and  the  snares  of  moral  evil,  and  the  spirit  and  course 
by  which  to  please  and  imitate  the  great  Object  of 
our  gratitude,  it  is  manifest  that,  with  the  most  con- 
straining motives,  are  thus  associated  the  most  en- 
lightening rules.  But  even  without  referring  to 
D   2 


28  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  1. 

these,  we  may  find  their  principles  and  lineaments 
contained  and  expressed  in  the  great  fact  itself, 
which  is  the  sovereign  object  of  belief  and  trust. 
The  astonishing  fact  of  redemption,  in  proportion 
as  it  is  believed,  not  only  operates  as  a  motive,  but 
as  an  example  and  a  rule.  Though  in  its  character 
and  design  inimitable  by  angels,  it  is  in  its  spirit 
imitable  by  men  ;  and  when  truly  believed,  7nust  be 
in  some  measure  copied.  Who,  for  instance,  can  be- 
lieve in  his  heart,  that  he  has  been  so  deeply  ruined 
and  so  divinely  rescued,  and  yet  allow  himself  to 
cherish  pride,  or  wilfully  indulge  an  arrogant  and 
haughty  spirit  ?  Hov\^  can  those  yield  themselves  up 
to  sensual  and  worldly  allurements,  to  luxury,  vo- 
luptuousness, and  covetousness,  who  know  these  to 
be  the  chains  of  the  great  apostasy,  the  snares  and 
bands  that  have  held  our  race  in  moral  ruin  and 
estrangement  from  their  God,  and  which  the  Son  of 
God  himself  was  bound,  and  scourged,  and  pierced, 
on  purpose  to  dissolve  and  sever  I  How  shall  I 
tolerate  in  myself  a  malicious,  an  unforgiving,  or  a 
selfish  spirit,  believing,  meanwhile,  that  to  me  so 
much  has  been  given  and  so  much  forgiven ;  that 
*'  God  spared  not  his  own  Son  ;"  that  this  illustrious 
Sufferer  implored  in  death  a  pardon  for  his  bitterest 
foes  ;  that,  instead  of  exacting  the  penalty  which  I 
owe  to  justice,  the  King  of  kings  imposes  on  me, 
by  infinite  mercies,  a  boundless  debt  of  love  ? 

Thus  we  cannot  but  perceive,  that  a  true  accept- 
ance of  the  "great  mystery  of  godliness"  is,  in  it- 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  29 

self,  that  change  of  heart  begun,  by  which  we  must 
enter  *'  the  kingdom  of  God."  Christian  conversion 
is  the  real  and  believing  view,  mentally,  by  a  spirit- 
ual and  Divine  light,  of  that  infinite  atonement  and 
free  pardon  which  constitute  the  gospel  what  its 
name  imports — "glad  tidings  of  great  joy,"  To 
acquire  a  new  view — a  different  internal  apprehen- 
sion or  conception  of  all  that  is  most  momentous,  of 
the  character  of  Deity,  of  the  personal  manifestation 
of  that  character  in  Christ,  of  sin  and  righteousness, 
of  life,  death,  and  eternity,  this  is  surely  to  be,  in 
spirit,  "  born  again  ;  "  to  be  "  a  new  creature  ; "  to 
become  in  temper  and  practice  "  alive  unto  God." 
As  surely  as  conversion  towards  the  sun  expands 
and  fructifies  the  blossom,  till  then  unopened,  which 
is  attracted  by  and  turned  towards  its  beams,  so 
surely  the  believing  view  of  the  gospel,  in  propor- 
tion as  it  is  undiverted  and  unsuspended,  must  pro- 
duce "  fruit  unto  holiness."  And  this  quality  will 
be  found  essential  to  the  satisfactory  character  of 
any  remedy  proposed  to  you  for  the  ills  of  life,  and 
the  mental  distress  which  attends  them  :  because, 
as  I  have  already  remarked,  it  is  the  sense  of  moral 
evil,  and  of  unfitness  for  a  perfect  happiness,  which 
deepens  the  pain  of  every  temporal  grief.  In  order 
to  combat  effectually  the  sorrows  of  mortality,  we 
want  those  pure  principles  of  immortal  life,  in- 
creasingly developed  and  consciously  maturing, 
which  are  the  pledges  of  a  joy  "  that  fadeth  not." 
And  it  is  very  material  to  observe,  that  ^o  far  as  our 
D    3 


30  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

Christian  obedience  springs  from  this  influence  and 
these  principles  of  action,  the  fruit  will  be  emphati- 
cally "  ^ooo?  fruit ; "  the  believer's  acts  will  be  not 
merely  good  as  to  their  fitness  and  utility  in  them- 
selves, but  good  as  to  their  prompting  motive.  Nor 
does  it  appear  possible  that  acts  performed  by  men 
from  any  other  principles  can  be  good  in  the  same 
sense ;  or  that  those  performed  by  Christians  under 
the  admixture  or  joint  influence  of  other  motives, 
can  be  good  in  the  same  degree.  A  mercenary, 
who,  in  the  service  of  his  sovereign  or  his  chief,  per- 
forms certain  acts,  and  refrains  from  others,  with 
the  mere  aim  of  earning  a  promised  recompense, 
has  obviously  no  better  motive  than  mere  prudential 
wisdom ;  and  although  he  should  have  the  belief, 
that  on  account  of  the  invaluable  services  of  a  de- 
ceased brother  or  friend,  less  will  be  claimed  per- 
sonally from  him,  that  his  conduct  will  be  judged 
with  less  rigour,  or  a  greater  reward  be  conferred, — 
still,  if  he  retains  the  notion,  whether  erroneously 
or  not,  that  his  own  deeds  are  to  be,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  the  procuring  price,  the  "  valuable  consider- 
ation "  for  which  he  is  to  be  requited,  he  may  have 
as  much  of  a  mercenary  spirit  as  if  there  were  no 
such  indirect  advantage  to  enhance  his  expectations : 
nor  is  it  easy  to  conceive  how,  under  such  impres- 
sions, he  can  be  wholly  divested  of  that  spirit  and 
aim.  Thus,  if  we  view  the  gospel,  as  too  many  ap- 
pear to  view  it,  with  so  indistinct  a  sense  of  its  pur- 
pose and  its  value,  as  to  account  the  merits  of  the 


1.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  31 

Saviour  but  a  sort  of  supplemental  adjunct,  how- 
ever weighty,  to  the  merits  of  the  saved,  the  mer- 
cenary character  of  our  conduct  may  remain  quite 
unchanged,  and  radically  changed  it  cannot  be.  He 
who  regards  the  "  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ," 
as  meant  to  compensate  for  what  is  lacking  in  his 
own  deserts,  but  so  that  his  obedience  will  still  form 
part  of  his  title  to  heaven,  must  be  still  employed 
legally — and  we  may  use  this  term  both  in  the  theo- 
logical and  forensic  sense — labouring  to  strengthen 
and  complete  that  "  title  "  to  mansions  in  the  skies. 
But  acts  so  prompted,  be  they  of  what  kind  or 
amount  they  may,  cannot  be,  in  the  highest  sense, 
good.  For  then  would  the  obedience  of  angels  and 
"  the  spirits  of  the  perfected  "  be  no  better  and  no 
higher,  whose  title  to  felicity  is  completely  ratified 
by  possession.  The  works  of  the  legalist,  who  la- 
bours to  earn  and  secure  a  promised  reward,  would 
be  as  excellent  as  those  of  "  ministering  spirits," 
actuated  by  pure  love  to  God  and  man,  in  whom 
every  act  is  disinterested  ;  except  so  far  as  the  ex- 
ercise of  that  holy  principle  constitutes  their  bliss. 
Thus  you  perceive,  that  it  is  the  entire  gratuitous- 
ness  of  our  whole  salvation,  which  can  alone  place 
the  offender  on  that  footing  where  he  may  really 
begin  to  exercise  the  heavenly  sort  of  obedience. 
The  "  God  of  all  grace  "  deigns  to  declare  to  return- 
ing sinners — I  pardon  you  freely,  I  justify  you  free- 
ly, I  will  sanctify  you  wholly,  I  now  adopt  and  I 
will  hereafter  glorify  you,  all  and  merely  for  the 


32  VALUE    AND    CREDTUILITY  I. 

sake  of  my  beloved  Son.  Now,  therefore,  beo^in  to 
obey  and  follow  me  "  as  dear  children,"  as  seraphs 
have  always  obeyed,  as  man  in  his  primeval  inno- 
cence obeyed,  from  filial,  grateful,  admiring,  imita- 
tive love.  Think  not  of  being  happy  for  your  obe- 
dience, but  happy  in  it.  Your  bliss  will  then  be 
perfect,  when  the  sources  and  the  streams  of  action 
shall  become  entirely  "  pure  and  undeiiled." 

Let  me  now,  with  the  honest  wish  that  you  should 
attain  substantial  peace,  not  such  "  as  the  world 
giveth,"  once  more  recall  to  view  the  sum  and  es- 
sence of  this  "  gospel."  It  has  been  represented  as 
a  free,  gratuitous,  and  entire  remission  of  sins,  grant- 
ed through  the  amazing  mediation  of  that  Lord  of 
glory  who  gave  his  life  a  ransom  ;  becoming  thus  a 
demonstration  of  all  moral  perfections  in  God,  and 
a  creative  power  to  re-awaken  them  in  man  :  far 
more  than  a  mere  pardon  or  reprieve  from  penal 
justice  —  rather  a  justification  or  honourable  re- 
lease, an  act  of  full  oblivion,  which  instates  offend- 
ers in  the  same  enjoyment  of  Divine  favour,  as  if 
their  progenitor  had  never  fallen,  as  if  they  them- 
selves had  never  renewed  and  multiplied  his  fall  ; 
nay,  which  seals  to  them  in  reversion,  for  the  sake 
and  as  the  chosen  reward  of  the  Great  Restorer,  a 
sublimer  happiness  than  they  could  have  enjoyed 
unfallen  ;  sublimer  if  only  for  that  love  of  gratitude 
— boundless  and  eternal  gratitude — which  is  its  best 
constituent ;  which  begins  when  first  we  look  with 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  33 

the  eye  of  faith  on  Him  whom  we  "  have  pierced," 
and  can  terminate  only  when  He  shall  cease  "  to  be 
glorified  in  his  saints  and  admired  in  all  them  that 
believe," 

It  has  been  impressed  on  you  that  "  this  great 
sight/'  this  view  by  faith,  though  "  as  in  a  glass 
darkly,"  of  the  reconciling  and  atoning  cross,  the 
centre  whither  all  moral  glories  converge  and 
whence  they  radiate,  is  the  heavenly  sunshine  that 
cheers  and  vivifies  the  soul ;  mighty  to  quicken  those 
germs  of  pure  obedience  and  holy  blessedness,  that 
shall  bloom  and  be  matured  among  "  the  saints  in 
light." 

We  have  affirmed  there  is  no  heart  so  cold,  no 
conscience  so  steeled  or  captive,  no  mind  so  pertina- 
cious in  rejecting  hitherto  the  counsel  of  God,  or  in 
refusing  to  be  comforted — which  has  a  right  to  de- 
spair of  his  omnipotent  love — who  was  "  lifted  up  " 
on  the  cross,  that  He  might  "  draw  all  men  unto 
Him." 

These,  if  I  rightly  view  them,  are  the  "  gospel  " 
consolations.  This  is  the  *'  balm  in  Gilead,"  and 
the  "  physician  "  there.  It  is  a  sovereign  specific 
which  you  need  ;  not  a  poor,  deceptive,  momentary 
cordial.  But  than  this,  let  me  ask,  what  nobler  and 
what  richer  can  you  crave  ?  Could  you  now  call  a 
minister  of  mercy  from  the  skies,  could  you  invoke  a 
visible  angel  to  strengthen  and  to  solace  you,  what 
would  you  have  him  bring  1  Can  your  heart  conceive 
of  something   more   appropriate,    something   more 


34  VALUE    AND    CREDIBILITY  I. 

inestimable,  in  substitution  for  this  "  glorious  gospel 
of  the  blessed  God?"  Were  that  messenger  to  confer 
the  gift  of  immediate  health  and  ease — or  to  bear 
"  in  his  right  hand  length  of  days,  and  in  his  left 
hand  riches  and  honours," — or  to  present  again  the 
dearest  friend  or  child  whom  you  have  mourned  for, 
— ^you  know  how  ineffectual  some  of  these  blessings 
would  be  to  heal  the  pains  of  the  body,  and  all  of 
them  to  assuage  the  wounds  of  the  spirit ;  you  know 
how  soon  also  they  must  vanish  like  the  mist  and 
wither  like  the  flower. 

Were  he  even  commissioned  with  "  another  gos- 
pel," with  another  charter  of  pardon  and  immortal 
gladness  from  the  court  of  Heaven,  how,  I  ask,  could 
it  be  fraught  with  so  Divine  a  tenderness,  or  charged 
with  promises  which  so  exceed  all  price,  as  that 
which  has  been  sealed  in  the  blood  of  God's  own 
Son,  and  invites  the  wretched  to  be  "joint-heirs" 
with  Him  !  Listen  then  to  the  voice  which  should 
soften,  if  not  banish  every  sorrow.  Rise  from  de- 
jection to  greet  the  "  Angel  of  the  covenant."  "  Be- 
hold, He  stands  at  the  door,  and  knocks."  Be  it 
yours  to  welcome  and  adore  him.  He  comes  to  pour 
into  your  bosom  "  everlasting  consolations."  If  there 
be  in  the  universe  an  envoy  or  a  message  that  might 
cheer  the  most  disconsolate,  and  chase  by  spiritual 
joy  the  physical  maladies  of  nature,  that  might 
make  "  the  lame  to  leap  as  a  hart,  and  the  tongue 
of  the  dumb  to  sing,"  you  must  recognise  them  here. 
Behold  the  illustrious  Envoy  :   "  the  Lamb  of  God 


I.  OF    THE    GOSPEL.  35 

which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  Listen  to 
his  joy-inspiring  message — "  He  that  believeth  on 
me  hath  everlasting  life  :  "  so  transcendently  good 
and  great  that  it  is  beyond  our  loftiest  conception  : 
so  divinely  simple,  that  it  is  not  beyond  our  most 
child-like  acceptation.  May  we  have  grace,  believ- 
ingly  and  devotedly  to  receive  it !  Then  will  the 
love  of  this  heavenly  Friend  "  constrain  "  us.  Then 
shall  we  "count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excel- 
lency of  the  knowledge  of  Him."  Then,  "  although 
in  tribulation,  we  shall  have  peace;"  nay, then  may 
we  learn  at  length,  like  his  apostle,  to  "  take  plea- 
sure in  infirmities  and  distresses  for  Christ's  sake," 
feeling  in  life  and  death  the  truth  and  emphasis  of 
his  own  sacred  words,  "  Blessed  is  he  whosoever 
shall  not  be  offended  in  me." 


II. 


ON  STRAINED  INTERPRETATIONS  OF  THE  DOCTRINE 
OF  FAITH  OR  CONVERSION,  WHICH  MAY  INDUCE 
A  DESPONDENT  IMPRESSION  THAT  WE  ARE  AND 
SHALL  BE  DESTITUTE  OF  IT. 


That  "  the  gospel  of  Christ,"  when  believed,  has 
a  signal  adaptedness  and  power  to  produce  the 
greatest  moral  effects,  I  suppose  you — amidst  what- 
ever painful  doubts  as  to  your  own  vital  reception 
of  it — clearly  to  discern  :  so  as  to  be  little  moved  by 
the  objections  of  those  confused  or  cavilling  oppo- 
nents who  decry  faith  as  if  it  were  a  delusive  substi- 
tute for  morals,  instead  of  being,  what  it  really  is, 
their  very  root  or  basis. 

It  has  been  no  doubt  a  ground  of  hesitation  and 
even  of  repugnance  to  many,  although  but  a  super- 
ficial fallacy  if  examined,  that  when  we  affirm 
Christian  conversion  to  consist  in  a  cordial  recep- 
tion, by  faith,  of  "  the  glad  tidings  "  revealed,  our 
all  is  thus  made  dependent  on  one  simple  act  of  the 


II.  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH.  37 

mind,  or  even  on  a  passive  state  of  it.  Simplicity, 
to  many,  appears  weak,  and  is  distasteful.  It  was 
hard  even  for  many  of  the  "  wise  and  disputers  of 
this  world,"  to  receive  the  one  law  of  gravitation,  in 
place  of  the  vortices  and  fluid  medium  of  Descartes. 
— There  is  much  shrewd  insight  of  human  nature 
implied  in  the  query  of  his  attendant  to  the  Syrian 
captain,  (which  has  been  often  alluded  to  by  divines 
with  this  application,)  "  My  father,  if  the  prophet 
had  bid  thee  do  some  great  thing,  wouldst  thou  not 
have  done  it  ?  "  * 

Yet,  while  the  simplicity  of  any  principle  or  means, 
and  therefore  of  faith,  will  often  contribute  to  excite 
prejudice,  the  power  or  tendency  of  this  cannot,  to 
any  acute  and  understanding  mind,  be  as  latent,  or 
appear  as  arbitrary,  as  that  of  the  ablution  in  Jor- 
dan. On  the  contrary,  one  would  think  there  should 
need  little  or  nought  of  reasoning,  or  explanatory 
developement,  to  apprize  rational  persons,  that  to 
''believe  the  gospel,"  though  it  be  a  simple  thing, 
and  in  the  world's  eye  an  indifferent  or  immaterial 
thing,  is  yet  in  fact,  and  in  a  very  lofty  sense,  the 
"  great  thing."  A  Naaman  may  scorn  it  for  its  sup- 
posed commonness,  and  a  Hume  for  its  supposed 
unreasonableness ;  a  Julian  may  tauntingly  tell  us 
— "I  believe,  h  the  sum  of  your  wisdom  ;"t  and 
they  who  "  talk  of  morals,"  may  still  ask — Why  so 

*  2  Kings  V.  13. 
t  As  cited  in  Gregory  Nazianzen,  and  from  him  by  Bullet,  Hist, 
du  Christianisme,  p.  117. 

E 


38  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

constantly  keep  in  view  this  one  thing,  this  "  faith," 
when,  in  the  Scripture  itself,  a  variety  of  precepts 
and  examples  are  so  much  urged  on  our  attention 
and  regard  ? — But  in  treating  of  your  difficulties,  I 
have  happily  no  need  to  vindicate  this  great  princi- 
ple from  the  contempt  of  some,  or  the  depreciation 
of  others.  You  are  well  aware  that  belief  is  the 
main-spring  of  conduct ;  that  this  "  one  thing," 
(whatever  be  its  simplicity,)  like  gravitation,  or  air, 
or  light,  "  is  needful  "  and  all-important ;  that  if  it 
were  but  a  point,  it  would  yet  be  the  "  turning  point ;" 
that  were  it  but  the  affair  as  of  a  "moment,"  it  would 
yet  also  be  (so  to  speak)  "  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,'^ 
— resembling  spiritually,  that  very  small  and  slight 
corporeal  change,  which  lets  in  upon  the  mind  a 
new  creation.  When  an  oculist  couches  the  first 
eye  for  a  patient  immersed  in  blindness,  he  does  but 
one  thing — and  this  a  very  slight  and  simple  thing; 
he  merely  removes  a  small  thin  film  :  but  that  "  one 
thing"  was  "needful;"  and  the  removal  of  this 
little  obstacle  lets  in  at  once  a  hemisphere.*  He 
who  was  in  darkness  (even  though  it  were  not  total) 
is  as  "  a  new  creature,"  "  born  again,"  as  into  a  new 
world  ;  to  him  there  are  "  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth ;"  he  walks  abroad  and  admires,  and  is  trans- 
ported with  grateful  gladness.     And  although  the 

*  Or  rather  rvould  do  so,  if  it  were  not  requisite  to  guard  (in 
some  cases  at  least)  against  the  sudden  and  fuil  influx  of  sun-light : 
a  circumstance  which  should  not  be  wholly  overlooked  in  the  spi- 
ritual analogy. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  39 

restoration  of  sight  should  in  such  a  case  be  very 
imperfect,  which  it  frequently  is,  so  that  the  patient 
sees  men  only  as  "  trees  walking,"  or  the  ocean  but 
as  a  misty  plain,  and  the  moon  but  as  a  glimmering 
lamp,  still  is  there  a  great  and  happy  change,  which 
arose  from  one  exceedingly  slight  and  simple  pro- 
cess. A  physical  conversion  of  the  eye  and  of  the 
man  was  in  that  small  process  effected.  He  turns 
toward  the  sun,  whereas  till  now  he  knew  not  the 
place  of  its  rising  or  its  zenith  ;  he  moves  to  em- 
brace a  silent  friend,  whom  but  lately  he  knew  not 
where  to  seek,  and  indeed,  while  silence  lasted,  was 
unconscious  of  his  presence.  Nay,  the  conversion 
is  far  more  than  physical.  New  feelings  are  awaken- 
ed ;  and  a  new  practice  commences.  He  learns  to 
do  the  works  and  fulfil  the  offices  for  which  light  is 
essential,  and  thus  his  life  of  privation  and  unprofit- 
ableness is  converted  to  a  new  life  of  activity  and 
comfort.  Those  who  refuse  to  expect,  or  expect  with 
hesitation,  that  so  common  and  simple  a  thing  as  faith 
in  the  gospel  can  amount  to  moral  and  spiritual  con- 
version, or  to  what  the  Scriptures  describe  as  a  being 
"  born  again,"  might  surely  with  more  reason  refuse 
to  expect  that  so  trifling  and  slight  a  change  as  the 
oculist  effects  on  his  patient,  can  involve  magnificent 
disclosures,  awakened  capacities  of  action,  and  new 
diversities  of  enjoyment.  Such,  however,  I  have  re- 
marked, is  not  your  difficulty.  You  admit  with  readi- 
ness, that  a  true  faith  in  the  gospel  must  needs  be 
a  principle  of  great  power  as  well  as  great  simplicity  ; 
E  2 


40  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH 


II. 


that  it  does  amount  to  conversion  of  heart,  motive, 
life,  and  prospect :  and  you  anxiously  fear,  from  the 
Avant  of  decisiveness  and  completeness  which  you 
find  in  its  effects,  that  you  possess  it  not.  This 
impression,  perhaps,  has  been  strengthened  by  the 
views  of  some  Christian  writers  or  preachers,  who 
seem  not  to  admit  that  there  can  be  gradations  or 
fluctuations  in  faith  ;  and  of  others,  who,  without 
holding  that  opinion,  appear  to  teach,  that,  in  all 
cases,  where  there  has  been  a  spiritual  transition 
*•  from  darkness  to  light,"  there  must  be  always  a 
vivid  and  assured  sense  of  contrast  between  the 
previous  and  the  actual  state.  By  tests  like  these, 
your  hope,  it  may  be,  is  distressingly  shaken. 

But  the  illustration  which  has  been  now  em- 
ployed, although  you  needed  it  not  for  its  former 
purpose,  may,  as  I  judge,  be  appropriate  and  service- 
able to  you  here.  For  it  obviously  assists  us  to  con- 
ceive, as  indeed  was  hinted  before,  how  it  is  that 
some  whom  we  account  sincere  believers  in  the 
gospel,  may  have  attained  comparatively  low  degrees 
of  spiritual  animation  and  happiness,  and  may  even 
suffer  at  times  a  grievous  and  dangerous  interrup- 
tion of  both.  That  faith  has  its  degrees  and  fluctu- 
ations, the  language  of  Scripture  and  the  experience 
of  believers  abundantly  concur  to  evince.*  But 
if  faith,  which  is  our  faculty  of  spiritual  vision,  be 
quite  languid  and  imperfect,  its  effects  can  be  but 

*  See  texts  quoted  in  "  Thoughts  on   Devotion,"  7th  edition, 
p.  206,  and  remarks  there,  and  at  p.  219. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  41 

proportionate  to  its  condition.  If  it  become  in- 
creasingly dim  and  inactive,  its  objects  will  be  less 
and  less  distinct,  and  its  influence  on  our  emotions 
and  our  actions  will  of  course  be  enfeebled. 

I  have  seen  a  patient  who  had  been  couched  for 
blindness  with  success,  and  this  in  advanced  years ; 
but  a  great  defectiveness  of  sight  (though  not  amount- 
ing to  absolute  blindness)  had  gradually  returned, 
and  the  operation  had  been  successfully  repeated. 
How  much  more  may  this  returning  dimness  and 
obscuration  be  feared  as  to  spiritual  sight,  as  to  the 
mental  and  cordial  perception  of  divine  things,  the 
vivid  apprehension  by  faith  of  invisible  realities! 
Will  you  say,  that  by  this  supposition  we  impeach 
the  power  and  skill  of  a  Divine  Operator  ?  Not  so : 
I  only  proceed  on  those  actual  though  mysterious 
circumstances  and  liabilities  of  our  nature  which  it 
hath  pleased  Him  to  permit.  Our  Saviour  gave  sight 
to  the  blind  son  of  Timseus.  Does  it  follow,  that  if  this 
mendicant  had  afterwards  chosen  to  travel  among 
the  sands  of  Egypt,  he  would  have  been  secure  from 
ophthalmia  ?  or  would  such  a  disease  have  disproved 
the  completeness  of  his  previous  cure  ?  It  is  beyond 
our  sphere  to  decide  what  the  God  of  grace  could 
eifect  or  could  prevent.  Facts  teach  us,  that  in  this 
world  he  allows  the  objects  of  his  kindness  to  be 
still  exposed  to  harms  and  perils,  spiritual  as  well 
as  physical,  and  to  bear  even  within  themselves  many 
sources  of  both.  The  spiritual  eye  is  originally  dark- 
ened by  the  disorders  of  a  fallen  nature ;  and  the 
E    3 


42  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

operation  of  enlightening  mercy,  though  it  take  a 
film  away,  does  not  remove  those  springs  of  inward 
evil  which  may  reinduce,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
sensual  and  obscuring  cloud  :  still  less  does  it  de- 
stroy those  noxious  airs  and  motes  which  float 
around ;  or  miraculously  shield  the  eye  of  faith 
against  their  natural  influence. 

It  is  true,  our  Saviour  said,  and  with  a  direct  re- 
ference to  the  spiritual  life,  "  If  thine  eye  be  clear,'' 
(free  from  clouds  or  spots,  and  in  this  sense  one  or 
*  single,^)  "  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light  :" 
that  is — thy  perception  of  objects  shall  be  complete, 
and  all  thy  acts  and  movements  be  correctly  guided 
by  it.  On  the  contrary,  "  if  thine  eye  be  distemper- 
ed," (in  that  evil  and  diseased  state  which  destroys 
vision,)  "  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  darkness." 
But  the  Great  Teacher  here  described  those  extreme 
opposites,  between  which,  both  physically  and  spi- 
ritually, there  are  many  degrees  and  many  fluctua- 
tions. He  who  came  to  save  had  been  predicted  as 
"  a  light  to  the  nations  ;  to  open  the  blind  eyes ;  "* 
and  himself  declared  his  gracious  office  of  an  en- 
lightener;  "  I  am  come  into  this  world,  that  they 
which  see  not  might  see:"f  from  the  immediate 
connexion  of  which  words  with  the  cure  of  a  man 
born  blind,  we  have  a  peculiar  warrant  for  regard- 
ing that  kind  of  miracle  on  the  body  as  designedly 
emblematic  of  his  great  commission  to  illuminate 

*  Isaiah  xlii,  7.  f  John  ix.  39. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  43 

and  renovate  the  soul.  But  the  method  of  several 
in  that  class  of  Christ's  miracles,  seems  expressly 
meant  to  intimate,  as  was  hinted  before,  those  '*  di- 
versities of  operation  "  that  should  occur  in  the  spi- 
ritual cures  which  they  typified.  Thus  in  that 
miraculous  giving  of  sight  which  has  been  now  men- 
tioned, the  great  Benefactor  chose  to  adopt  an  in- 
strumental process,  such  as  in  itself  might  seem  even 
adverse  to  his  purpose — the  anointing  the  sufferer's 
eyes  with  clay  ;  and  then  enjoined  him  likewise  to 
employ  other  means,  "  Go,  wash  in  the  pool  of  Si- 
loam  ;"  as  if  to  intimate  these  several  lessons — that 
the  light  of  truth  and  grace  may  be  conveyed  to  the 
dark  hearts  which  "  the  god  of  this  world  hath 
blinded,"  through  successive  preparatory  means ; 
that  what  may  seem  an  obstruction  to  spiritual  light, 
an  aggravation  of  spiritual  disease,  may  yet  be 
sometimes  strangely  instrumental  to  the  cure  ;  and 
also  that  the  subjects  of  enlightening  mercy  may 
themselves  be  called  to  perform  the  part  of  diligent 
obedience  to  enjoined  means,  in  order  to  the  Jlrst 
attainment  of  the  blessing.  We  find  in  the  cure  of 
another  blind  man,  at  Bethsaida,*  not  only  some 
outward  acts  performed  by  his  Restorer,  but  also  a 
restoration  which  was  distinctly  and  purposely 
gradual.  It  was  only  by  the  second  imposition  of 
the  healing  hands  of  Christ,  that  his  sight  became 
strong  to  discern   all  objects  "  clearly."     On   the 

*  Mark  viii.  22. 


44  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

contrary,  in  the  case  of  Bartimaeus^  the  miracle  was 
the  result  of  much  previous  importunity,  (which  in 
the  former  instances  is  not  stated) — was  accompanied 
with  no  other  means  prescribed  to  the  subject  of  it 
—was  in  itself  immediately  complete — and  had  this 
effect,  not  less  immediate,  that  "  he  followed  Jesus 
in  the  way."=^  So  the  removal  of  temporary  blind- 
ness from  Saul  of  Tarsus,  appears,  like  his  spiritual 
conversion  which  preceded,  to  have  been  suddenly 
entire  ;  though  the  Saviour  who  wrought  it  em- 
ployed only  the  deputed  ministration  of  a  disciple. 
Assuredly,  such  marked  'variations  in  the  method 
of  those  "  signs,"  than  which  none  were  more  sig- 
nificant of  the  Messiah's  spiritual  character  and 
office, t  may  well  prepare  us  to  expect  much  greater 
diversities  in  that  higher  process,  by  which  the 
spiritually  "  blinded"  are  brought  "  from  darkness 
to  light ;"  greater  in  proportion  as  the  blindness  of 
the  heart  is  a  disease  more  deep  and  latent,  yet 
disclosing  itself  by  symptoms  far  more  various ; 
above  all,  as  it  is  likev>dse  a  voluntary  disease,  which 
the  patient  at  once  disbelieves  and  cherishes.  It 
were  indeed  very  presumptuous  to  deny  that  there 
have  been  and  may  be  many  Christian  conversions  as 
suddenly  complete,  as  the  restoration  of  natural  sight 
to  Bartimaius  or  to  Paul :  but  it  were  still  more  so 
to  doubt  that  the  same  happy  change  is  usually  ef- 
fected by  successive  means,  and  by  a  far  longer  gra- 

*  aiarkx.  46—52.  f  John  i.  9,  and  ix.  5,  39 — ^11. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  45 

elation  than  the  cure  of  those  eyes^  which  the  Saviour 
only  once  retouched  ere  they  saw  with  "  luminous 
clearness."  Still  more  presumptuous ;  since  facts 
would  more  largely  refute  it :  since  also  the  previous 
reluctance  or  indifference,  which  in  the  subjects  of 
bodily  disease  was  unheard  of,  and  the  neglect  of  pre- 
scribed means  and  precautions  which  among  them 
was  likely  to  be  rare,  do  manifestly  exist  to  retard 
(as  far  as  Divine  mercy  allows  such  unhappy  coun- 
teractions) the  gracious  work  of  spiritual  healing. 
When,  at  the  first  touch  of  pity  from  the  Great  En- 
lightener,  a  beam  of  heavenly  truth  has  reached  the 
darkened  heart,  is  it  found  that  a  persevering  im- 
portunity always  ensues,  a  persistive  earnestness  like 
that  which  dictated  the  ancient  petitions,  "  Open  thou 
mine  eyes  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things  out  of 
thy  law  " — "  Make  thy  face  to  shine  upon  thy  serv- 
ant " — "  Lift  up  on  me  the  light  of  thy  countenance,'* 
— or  that  a  correspondent  attentiveness  is  always  ex- 
ercised as  to  revealed  injunctions  and  warnings? 
Whether  the  case  be  one  in  which  the  first  entrance 
of  spiritual  light  is  so  powerful  as  to  amount  to  con- 
version, or  in  which  its  faint  degrees  can  be  deemed 
but  precursory — is  it  always  found  that  the  night- 
damps  of  worldly  society,  and  the  blinding  dust  of 
secular  cares,  are  shunned  as  far  as  may  be  com- 
patible with  duty  ?  If  experience  assure  us  that 
these  will  grievously  impair  the  most  confirmed  and 
clear  perceptions  of  Divine  truth,  how  much  more 
the  incipient  and  the  feeble !  Admonitions  to  "  watch 


46  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH 


II. 


and  pray"  are  virtually  reiterated  in  multiplied  forms 
throughout  all  Scripture,  and  this  in  reference  to 
every  condition  of  the  mind,  from  the  first  feeling 
of  spiritual  darkness,  through  each  vicissitude  of  par- 
tial light,  on  to  the  hour  of  those  happiest  irradia- 
tions, which  may  meet  the  vigilant  believer  at  "  the 
gate  of  death."  These  admonitions  are  surely  as 
legible  and  as  imperative  as  that  question  which  in- 
vited and  claimed  the  renewed  importunity  of  Bar- 
timseus,  ^'WYiB^t  wilt  thou  I  should  do  for  thee?" 
and  as  that  direct  command,  "  Go,  wash  in  the  pool 
of  Siloam,"*  which,  in  another  instance,  was  an- 
nexed to  the  act  of  mercy.  If,  therefore,  revealed 
invitations  and  injunctions  be  remissly  complied 
with,  must  we  not  anticipate,  in  the  spiritual  cure, 
proportionate  defects,  nay,  mournful  relapses  ?  And 
then,  until  the  heavenly  touch  be  sought  with  more 
importunate  contrition,  how  shall  the  pilgrim  go  on 
his  way  in  cheerfulness,  vigour,  or  safety?  Must 
not  rather  his  condition  closely  verge  on  that  of  one 
who  "  walketh  in  darkness,  and  knoweth  not  whi- 
ther he  goeth  ?"  In  such  a  state,  and  we  fear  it  is 
not  unfrequent,  there  is  urgent  need  to  be  "  illumin- 
ated "  anew.  How  awfully  did  the  self-confident 
apostle  need  this,  in  the  high  priest's  hall!  Very 
lately,  his  spiritual  sight  had  been  strong  to  perceive 
and  own  his  Master's  glory,  and  he  had  received 
from  Christ  himself  the  assurance  that  this  ^'  bless- 

*   John  ix.  7. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  47 

ed"  perception  was  divinely  given;*'  but  the  influ- 
ence of  the  depraved  woi^ld,  like  a  foul  and  deadly 
vapour,  unexpectedly  enveloped  him ;  the  eye  of 
faith  became  clouded  and  distempered  ;  he  recog- 
nised that  glory  no  longer  —  and  you  know  the 
criminal  result.  The  change  was  at  once  wretched 
and  perilous.  One  would  think  the  apostle,  long 
afterwards,  was  mentally  glancing  at  that  unhappy 
night,  when  he  wrote  the  admonition,  "  Connect 
with  your  faith,  fortitude ; "  and  in  the  subjoined 
description  of  him  who  "  lacketh  these  things," 
employed  the  figure  that  has  now  been  used  ;  "  he 
is  blind — extremely  short-sighted  or  purblind — and 
has  contracted  a  forgetfulness  of  the  purification 
from  his  former  sins."t  Such,  doubtless,  had 
been  his  own  predicament  in  the  hours  of  his  dis- 
tressing fall.  The  look  of  Jesus  was  that  healing 
touch  which  restored  a  gleam  of  spiritual  vision,  and 
although  he  wept  bitterly,  yet  did  his  very  tears  de- 
note, that  the  inward  eye  was  fixed,  in  reviving 
hope,  as  well  as  keen  compunction,  on  "  the  Son  of 
the  living  God."  Thus  was  Peter  again  "convert- 
ed;" we  cannot  scruple  the  term;  since  his  Lord 
himself  had  prophetically  used  it  in  reference  to 
this  very  event.  Happy  those  believers  (and  we 
trust  they  are  many)  who  have  never  sunk  into  such 
a  depth  of  guilt  and  alienation ;  but  the  need  of 
new  and  continual  light  and  succour,  and  restoration 

*  Matt.  xvi.  17. 
t  2  Pet.  i.  9,  Tii(/)Xos,  fkvai-KC'Xiiiv.     See  Doddi'idge  in  loc. 


48  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

from  above,  is  doubtless  felt  by  all  who  are  sincere. 
Not  a  few  would  unite  in  the  strong  though  quaint 
language  of  the  excellent  Herbert — 

**  Lord,  mend,  or  rather,  make  us  :  one  creation 

Will  not  suffice  our  turn. 
Except  thou  make  us  daily,  we  shall  spurn 

Our  own  salvation."  * 

This  to  some  may  appear  hyperbolical :  but  some- 
thing not  unlike  it  has  been  written  in  sober  prose, 
by  one  who  possessed  both  solid  sense  and  solid 
piety.  "  Beside  the  first  conversion  of  a  soul  from 
a  state  of  nature,  there  are  after  conversions  from 
particular  paths  of  backsliding,  which  are  equally 
necessary  to  salvation.  Every  step  out  of  the  way 
by  sin  must  be  a  step  into  it  again  by  repentance."  f 
You  will  find  self-discerning  Christians  feelingly  ac- 
knowledge, that,  as  in  the  material,  so  in  the  spirit- 
ual universe,  He  who  made  all  things,  "  upholdeth 
all  things  :"  that  were  not  the  eye  of  faith  revisited 
often  by  the  hand  which  first  unsealed  it,  "  and  from 
the  well  of  life  fresh  drops  instilled,"  speedily  in- 
deed, and  fatally  also,  must  *' the  light"  which  is 
in  them  become  "  darkness." 

If  then  you  have  a  sense  of  the  excellency  of  the 
gospel,  a  wish  to  participate  its  blessings,  hail  this 
desire  as  "  the  day-spring  from  on  high."  I  would  ad- 
dress you  now  on  the  supposition — God  grant  it  may 
be  erroneous — that  you  are  not  yet  under  the  vital 

*  In  the  poem  entitled  "  Giddiness."      f  Henry  on  Matthew  xviii. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  49 

influence  of  that  gospel  :  but  be  this  ever  so  pain- 
fully apprehended — be  it  supposed  that  yourself  or 
others  cannot  ascertain  your  possession  of  spiritual 
light,  or  that  although  you  have  seemed  conscious 
to  its  beams  erewhile,  yet,  from  some  hidden  or 
some  known  and  lamented  causes,  they  are  almost 
quenched — yet  pray  much,  and  hope  much,  pray 
with  fervour,  and  hope  with  reliance,  that  they  may 
either  be  now  restored  and  multiplied,  or,  if  not 
then  genuine,  may  now  be  first  bestowed.  It  is  not 
for  you  to  decide,  that  those  former  gleams  of  truth, 
though  faint  even  then,  and  unhappily  grown  faint- 
er since,  were  not  yet  the  gracious  beginnings  of  a 
true  conversion. 

If  you  have  found  the  remarks  lately  offered  con- 
sonant to  reason  and  to  Scripture,  you  will  not  judge 
that  hope  to  be  precluded  even  when  conversion  is 
described  as  an  instantaneous  change.  For  we  may 
fully  admit  it  so  to  be,  without  any  inference  which 
should  in  the  least  discourage  even  those,  who  are 
brought  the  most  slowly  and  imperceptibly  "  out  of 
darkness  into  marvellous  light." 

If,  indeed,  it  be  affirmed,  that  conversion  is,  in 
ordinary  cases,  a  change  instantaneously  complete 
in  degree — this  is  a  groundless  and  perverted  ac- 
count of  it,  which  both  the  Scriptures  and  experience 
variously  and  fully  disprove.  But  if  it  be  only  meant 
that  the  change  is  instantaneous  in  its  beginning^ 
and  so  far  complete  in  kind,  this  is  no  more  than 
may  be  said  of  other  great  changes.    Day-light,  for 


50  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

example,  is  thus  instantaneous  :  that  is,  there  must 
be  some  point  of  time,  where  twilight  might  be  cor- 
rectly said  to  end,  and  day-light  to  begin  ;  yet  who 
can  fix  or  mark  the  separating  instant?  But  ima- 
gine that  it  could  be  marked  ;  imagine  that  a  com- 
petent observer,  one  placed  in  the  fit  atmosphere 
and  at  the  fit  elevation,  could  always  note  the  true 
moment  of  sunrise,  does  it  follow  that  the  instanta- 
neous commencement  of  this  change  from  darkness 
to  light  would  not  remain  to  most  of  us  unascertain- 
able  ?  Till  we  have  always  an  horizon  without  mist 
or  cloud,  always  a  distance  without  grove  or  hill, 
who  shall  pretend  to  ascertain  it  ?  The  mariner  on 
deck,  or  dweller  on  the  shore,  may  now  and  then  do 
so,  when  he  watches  the  morning  twilight  in  a 
cloudless  sky,  and  catches  the  first  ray  that  shoots 
over  the  ocean.  It  may,  however,  be  justly  doubt- 
ed, whether  the  first  dav/n  of  spiritual  sun-light  can 
in  any  case  be  by  man  so  ascertained.*'  At  least, 
while  it  is  certain,  that  with  all  the  "  children  of 
light,  the  children  of  the  day,"  there  laas  such  an 
instant,  it  is  probable  that,  in  a  vast  majority  of 
cases,  that  instant,  except  to  the  Omniscient,  or  to 
some  higher  created  intelligences,  must  be  quite  un- 
known. But  who  of  us  will  doubt  that  the  material 
sun  has  risen,  "  though  he  rose  in  a  mist,"  if  he 
now  break  through  the  dispersing  vapours,  or  even 
if  we  have  still   a  shaded   day-light,  without   any 

*  See  Note  C,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


11.  OR    CONVERSION.  61 

view  till  evening  of  the  orb  from  which  it  flows  ; 
and  who  will  decide  whether  the  first  faint  li^ht 
which  visited  us  from  the  clouded  east,  or  over  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  was  previous  or  subsequent  to  his 
unseen  rising  ?  If  previous,  still  were  those  twilight 
rays  its  welcome  pledges  and  its  immediate  harbin- 
gers. The  commencement  of  this  instantaneous  and 
ever-recurring  change  is  almost  always  unknown  to 
us ;  and  its  progress  to  completeness  is  invariably 
gradual. 

Nor  must  this  topic  be  dismissed  without  observ- 
ing, that  the  forcible  figure  which  our  Saviour  so 
solemnly  adduced  in  describing  that  great  change 
which  prepares  the  spirit  for  heaven  —  the  figure 
of  a  new  birth,  or  "regeneration" — is  viewed  in- 
considerately, not  to  say  perversely,  if  it  be  thought 
to  imply  respecting  that  change,  either  a  sudden 
completeness  of  degree,  or  a  consciousness  in  the 
subjects  of  it  as  to  the  period  of  its  occurrence. 
What  was  our  natural  life  at  the  moment  when  it 
began  ?  It  had  an  instantaneous  commencement, 
and  perhaps  a  completeness  in  kind  :  but  how  ex- 
ceedingly remote  from  completeness  in  degree !  How 
feeble  the  principle  and  acting  of  new-born  life  : — 
how  diminutive  and  helpless  the  frame  ; — and  as  for 
the  mind,  was  not  its  existence  for  a  time  scarcely 
observable,  and  its  developement  a  work  of  years  ? 
— Can  an  infant  be  shown  to  possess,  in  the  first 
weeks  after  birth,  any  distinct  consciousness  of  its  be- 
ing ?  Has  it  subsequently  any  remembrance,  I  say 
F  2 


52  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH 


II. 


not  of  the  moments  in  which  life  began,  but  even 
of  the  first  months  and  years  which  followed  ?  Have 
we  not  also  read  or  heard  of  cases,  where  natural 
life  was  so  extremely  weak  in  its  beginning,  or  so 
sickly  and  tender  in  its  early  progress,  as  to  be  quite 
doubted  of  at  first,  and  often  desponded  of  afterwards, 
yet  where  intellectual  vigour  became  eminent,  and 
bodily  vigour  not  deficient  ?  It  is  somewhat  singular 
that  the  biography  of  a  Christian  author,  from  whom 
probably  the  first  hint  was  derived  by  me  of  the 
thoughts  which  are  now  insisted  and  enlarged  on,* 
affords  an  instance  of  this  kind,  which  I  am  per- 
suaded ought  to  serve  as  an  instructive  illustration 
in  respect  to  spwitiial  life,  with  reference  both  to 
our  judgment  of  ourselves,  and  our  treatment  of 
others.  "  So  destitute  was  he  at  his  birth  of  the 
signs  of  life,  that  he  was  thrown  aside  as  dead.  One, 
however,  of  the  attendants,  thinking  that  she  per- 
ceived some  motion  or  breath  in  him,  cherished  with 
such  assiduous  care  the  almost  expiring  flame  of  ex- 
istence, that  it  was  preserved  for  the  benefit  of  the 
world.  From  his  infancy  he  had  an  infirm  consti- 
tution and  a  thin  consumptive  habit."  f     Yet  that 

*■  "  As  every  man  knows  he  was  born  into  the  world,  by  a  con- 
sciousness that  he  now  lives  and  acts  here,  though  it  is  impossible 
he  should  remember  any  thing  of  the  time  or  circmnstances  in  which 
he  was  first  produced  into  it — so  may  a  Christian  be  assured  that 
some  way  or  another  he  was  born  of  the  Spirit,  if  he  can  trace  its 
genuine  fruits  and  efficacious  influences  in  a  renewed  heart  and 
life." — Doddridge  Sermons  on  Regeneration,  s.  8.  p.  168. 

t  Kippis's  Life  of  Doddridge,  prefixed  to  Fam.  Exp.  p.  x. 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  53 

Doddridge  lived,  and  nobly  exemplified  his  favourite 
motto,  "  Live  tvliile  you  live,"  what  Christian  does 
not  rejoice  to  know  and  to  remember  ?  A  still  more 
signal  instance,  of  vast  intellectual  strength  joined 
with  bodily  health  and  great  longevity,  all  from  the 
same  frail,  and  even  hopeless  commencement,  is 
found  in  the  life  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  "  The  help- 
less infant  (at  its  birth)  was  of  such  a  diminutive 
size,  and  seemed  of  so  perishable  a  frame,  that  two 
Avomen  who  were  sent  to  Lady  Pakenham's  to  bring 
some  medicine  to  strengthen  him,  did  not  expect  to 
see  him  alive  at  their  return."  ^ 

With  such  facts  and  such  analogies  before  us, 
may  we  not  fitly  ask  the  scriptural  question^  with 
an  eye  at  once  to  physical,  mental,  and  spiritual  birth 
and  infancy — "  Who  hath  despised  the  day  of  small 
things  ? "  Shall  we  not  also  adopt  the  cheering 
words  of  Doddridge  himself,  founded  on  that  pas- 


"  Lord,  if  such  trophies  raised  from  dust 
Thy  sovereign  glory  be, 
Here,  in  my  heart,  thy  power  may  find 
Materials  fit  for  thee." 

This  at  least  is  evident,  from  such  cases,  and  from 
general  considerations  also,  that  the  analogy  select- 
ed by  our  wise  and  gracious  Lord  himself,  in  those 
remarkable  words,  "  Ye  must  be  born  again,"  on 
which  also  the  term  regeneration  is  directly  founded 

*  Brewster's  Life  of  Newton,  p.  3. 
F    3 


54  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  JI. 

— SO  far  from  even  justifying,  in  regard  to  the  great 
spiritual  change,  expectations  either  of  conscious- 
ness as  to  its  commencement,  or  of  suddenness  as  to 
its  maturity,  does,  in  all  reason,  lead  us  rather  to  ex- 
pectations directly  the  reverse.  Would  it  be  reason- 
able, or  would  it  be  treating  with  reverence  the 
comparison  chosen  and  reiterated  by  Divine  wisdom, 
to  conclude,  that  while  the  natural  birth  always 
presents  a  new  life  in  utter  weakness — the  spiritual 
birth  will  usually  unfold  a  new  life  in  confinned 
stability  and  strength  ?  that  while  in  natural  infancy 
the  powers  of  motion,  thought,  and  action,  are  very 
long  in  their  developement — in  spiritual  infancy  they 
are  at  once  mature  ?  that  in  the  great  physical 
change,  the  newly-born  must  be  fostered  by  a  daily 
Providence,  cherished  by  a  thousand  human  suc- 
cours, nourished,  instructed,  fed  with  milk,  and  then 
with  solid  food — but  in  the  great  moral  change,  no- 
thing analogous  to  all  this  is  requisite  for  its  ma- 
turity ?  that,  moreover,  while  it  is  impossible  as  to 
natural  life  that  we  should  remember  when  it  began, 
and  was  (as  far  as  we  can  conceive)  equally  impos- 
sible that  we  should  be  then  cotiscious  of  its  begin- 
ning, the  period  of  spiritual  regeneration  must  have 
been  a  matter  of  consciousness  when  present,  and 
must  be  so  of  remembrance  when  past  ? 

You  will  see  that  I  all  along  suppose  and  imply 
the  occurrence  of  some  partial  exceptions  to  those 
probable  analogies  which  I  have  been  aiming  to  ex- 
hibit.   Such  exceptions,  both  in  natural  and  spiritual 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  55 

physiology,  are  sometimes  found.  But  in  either 
department  it  would  be  alike  absurd  usually  to  ex- 
pect them. 

And  it  deserves  our  attentive  reflection,  that  had 
it  been  our  Saviour's  chief  purpose  in  the  choice  of 
a  figure,  to  preclude  unwarranted  expectations,  no 
figure  could  be  easily  substituted  which  would  be  in 
that  view  so  compendiously  instructive.  For  this, 
while  it  expresses,  in  one  word,  with  the  utmost 
strength,  the  decisiveness  of  the  spiritual  change, 
contains  within  itself,  in  the  obvious  and  partly  in- 
separable circumstances  to  which  I  have  referred — 
but  which  seem  to  have  been  frequently  forgotten — 
what  ought  always  to  repress  the  fanciful,  animate 
the  diligent,  and  reassure  the  desponding. 

Other  scriptural  figures,  however,  and  particu- 
larly those  derived  from  the  phenomena  of  light  and 
vision,  we  have  found  to  be  more  adapted  for  a  di- 
versified and  copious  illustration  of  the  same  great 
subject. 

To  those,  therefore,  while  endeavouring  to  impress 
what  has  been  already  urged,  I  shall  still  venture 
once  more  to  allude,  and  to  say — if  but  some  sem- 
blance or  prelude  to  the  healing  beams  of  the  gospel 
has  been  yet  vouchsafed  to  you  or  me,  let  us  not  de- 
spond of  its  heavenly  origin  and  its  happy  increase. 
If  not  even  so  much  has  been  or  is  at  present  real- 
ised, still  let  us  not  despond,  but  implore  in  hopeful 
earnestness,  that  now  "  the  dayspring  from  on  high" 
may  visit  us,  *'  to  guide  our  feet  into  the  way  of 


56  DOCTRINE    OF    FAITH  II. 

peace."  Though  we  are  endangered,  and  may  be 
ruined,  by  presumption  and  a  false  security,  it  is 
still  emphatically  true,  that  "  we  are  saved  by  hope." 
Yield  not,  therefore,  to  the  dread,  much  less  to  the 
hopeless  conclusion,  that  it  is  now  too  late,  or  that 
your  moral  disease  and  insusceptibility  are  already 
too  great  and  inveterate.  When  "  the  earth  was 
without  form  and  void,  and  darkness  on  the  face 
of  the  deep  " —  a  chaotic  mass  of  barrenness  and 
gloom — then  it  was  that  the  vivifying  moment  came ; 
"  and  God  said.  Let  there  be  light ;  and  there  was 
light." 

Even  so  the  gloomiest  night  of  sorrow  and  of  con- 
scious ill-desert — in  which,  perhaps,  outward  calam- 
ity, inward  compunction,  bodily  pain,  mental  fore- 
bodings and  regrets,  much  unbelief  and  many  fears, 
are  all  conspiring  to  blacken  and  agitate  the  chaos 
of  the  soul — may  be  that  moment  of  extremity 
which  God  hath  chosen,  when  He  shall  begin  ef- 
fectually to  remove  its  blindness  or  to  chase  the 
shadows ;  that  it  may  presently  behold  the  "  Sun  of 
righteousness"  arisen,  and  thrill  under  his  quicken- 
ino'  brio'htness. 

Do  not  perplex  yourself  with  the  query,  perhaps 
impossible  both  for  others  and  yourself  to  solve — 
whether  as  yet  any  direct  and  efficacious  beam  from 
that  great  Source  of  influence  has  visited  your  heart ; 
but  with  earnestness  of  scriptural  research  and  of 
devout  supplication,  pursue  the  promised  blessing. 
Expect  not  either  the  commencement  or  progress  of 


II.  OR    CONVERSION.  57 

spiritual  life  in  mystic,  unintelligible  impulses,  but  in 
being  taught  of  God  to  apprehend  and  feel  with  your 
rational  perceptions  and  natural  emotions,  the  truth, 
import,  and  cogency  of  those  wonderful  facts  and 
doctrines  so  pre-eminent  in  his  word,  which  it  is  of 
unspeakable  moment  for  a  sinner  spiritually  to  dis- 
cern. Confidently  hope,  that,  according  to  the  Re- 
deemer's promise,  if  you  "  ask,"  you  shall  "  receive ;" 
that  the  Great  Comforter  and  Instructor,  the  Holy 
and  Eternal  Spirit,  '*  shall  receive  of  his,  and  dis- 
close it  unto  you." 


III. 


ON  SUSPICIONS  THAT  FAITH  MAY  NOT  BE  GENUINE, 
INDUCED  BY  THE  FREQUENT  OBSERVATION  AND 
PARTIAL  EXPERIENCE  OF  SELF-DELUSIONS. 


You  sometimes  institute  this  anxious  inquiry  ; — If 
I  do  indeed  appear  to  be  favoured  with  a  *'  little 
faith,"  with  a  ray  of  that  light  "  shining  in  the 
heart,"  which  should  be  powerful  to  cheer,  and  guide, 
and  purify  ;  still,  amidst  those  self-delusions,  which, 
even  within  the  pale  of  Christian  profession,  are 
too  often  observed — and  with  some  correspondent 
symptoms  in  myself — where  is  my  sure  ground  of 
persuasion,  that  I  possess  in  reality  the  "  true  light," 
the  healing,  renovating  light  from  heaven?  Its 
occasional  intermissions  or  continued  feebleness 
would  not  so  much  impair  my  hope  of  this,  did  I  not 
meet  with  examples,  and  these  of  painful  frequency, 
in  which  claims  to  the  possession  of  it  are  evidently 
fallacious. — Have  I  not  noticed  some,  and  heard  of 


III.  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH,  ETC.  59 

more,  professing  to  have  "  the  eyes  of  their  under- 
standing enlightened,"  and  actually  seeming  to  fix 
them  with  a  most  joyful  intentness  on  those  very 
truths  and  hopes  to  which  the  gospel  invites,  who 
yet  in  time  of  temptation  have  betrayed  the  nullity 
of  its  moral  power,  and  are  habitually  betraying  the 
extreme  defectiveness  of  this,  by  not  being  so  upright 
and  true,  not  so  pure  and  humble,  not  so  charitable, 
patient,  and  self-denying,  as  their  creed  should  in 
all  reason  make  them  ?  Knowing  that  such  falla- 
cies exist,  having  ground  to  suspect  that  they  are 
numerous,  feeling  also  in  myself  a  proneness  to  the 
same  disjunction  or  disproportion  between  my  pro- 
fessed faith  and  its  due  effects,  and  experiencing 
often  such  spiritual  relapses,  such  falls  from  excite- 
ment into  coldness  and  unwatchfulness,  as  seem  to 
mark  and  brand  the  instability  of  the  principle,  how 
shall  I  know  that  the  hoped-for  influence,  now  at 
best  so  weak,  is  in  very  deed  Divine,  or  will  not 
prove,  at  last,  ineffective  and  illusory  ? — In  reply  to 
such  queries,  we  must  admit,  with  deep  concern,  the 
existence  of  perilous  delusions,  sometimes  total, 
sometimes  partial ;  and  we  have  shared  the  dis- 
heartening apprehensions  which  they  are  fitted  to 
awaken  :  yet,  when  you  investigate  the  character  of 
those  most  palpably  insnared  by  them,  you  will,  I 
think,  perceive,  that  such  have  been  willing  cap- 
tives, content  to  substitute  imagination  for  faith  ; 
and  you  may  at  once  shun  the  danger  and  abate 


60  SUSPICIONS   THAT    FAITH  III. 

your  despondent  fear  of  it,  by  observing  how  much 
less  it  besets  the  self-examining,  than  the  sanguine 
and  self-confident.  We  cannot,  indeed,  hope  to 
define  or  apprehend  with  precision,  a  state  of  mind 
which  is,  by  the  very  supposition,  unstable ;  nay, 
the  deceptiveness  of  which  is  in  a  great  measure 
cloaked  and  hidden  from  the  self-deceived  ;  but  we 
shall  perhaps  best  approach  it,  by  conceiving,  that 
in  lieu  of  a  belief  and  contemplation  of  the  gospel 
facts  as  realities,  there  is  in  such  minds  a  theory — 
vivid  and  complete,  yet  still  but  a  theory — of  the 
same  facts  as  scenic  visions :  for  I  venture,  in  this 
connexion,  to  use  the  term  theory,  not  in  its  philo- 
sophic or  familiar  sense,  but  in  one  which  its  ety- 
mology would  seem  to  favour — the  view  of  a  theatric 
spectacle.  The  illusion  in  such  instances  may  be 
far  more  perfect  and  prolonged,  than  that  of  the 
most  fascinated  devotees  of  the  drama,  who  probably 
have  not  for  more  than  some  successive  instants,  be- 
lieved in,  or  supposed  themselves  to  believe  in,  the 
action  and  decorations  of  the  scene :  still  may  the 
different  illusions  be  mournfully  parallel  in  this, 
that  they  lead  to  nothing  practical ;  that  each  is  a 
mere  luxury,  a  stimulant  or  opiate  of  the  fancy,  but 
has  no  sway  over  the  temper  and  deportment. 

Or  perhaps  the  existence  and  nature  of  such  cases, 
that  is,  of  lively  and  zealous  views  of  the  gospel 
which  yet  prove  morally  inefficacious,  may  be  more 
aptly  illustrated  by  that  perception  of  illusiveness, 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  61 

which  is  found  in  some  cases  to  accompany  our 
dreams.  The  marvellous  facts  of  revealed  religion 
are  vividly  contemplated  and  theoretically  admired 
and  loved  :  yet  with  a  sort  of  occult  or  under  per- 
ception, that  they  may  be  partially,  if  not  quite,  un- 
real ;  or  at  least  a  sense  that  the  belief  of  them  by 
the  party  is  not  firm  and  real  :  (which  of  course  in- 
volves the  doubt  of  their  being  so :) — easily,  there- 
fore, and  instinctively,  amidst  such  vague  ambiguous 
views,  will  fancy  select  and  repose  on  those  aspects 
and  qualities,  which  may  at  once  excite  and  soothe  ; 
eluding  no  less  instinctively  what  would  claim  to 
control  and  regulate  the  heart.  It  may  be  objected, 
that  this  comparison  is,  in  one  very  important  point, 
ill-suited  to  our  purpose,  and  the  infidel  may  tell  us 
it  is  in  that  point  unwittingly  faithful :  inasmuch,  as 
dreams  are  not  only  sometimes  suspected  or  felt  in 
sleep  to  be  unreal,  but  always  at  last  turn  out  to  be 
so.  Not  always,  however,  (let  me  reply,)  the  objects 
which  they  represent.  These  are  very  often  quite 
real  and  substantial. 

Let  us  suppose  that  only  one  or  two  travellers 
had  yet  visited  the  boiling  Geysers  of  the  frozen  zone, 
or  the  stupendous  burning  crater  of  Kirauea."*  Ar- 
dentio  has  read  their  narratives.  By  some  parts 
of  them  his  imagination  is  strongly  excited.  He 
dreams  vividly  of  those  surprising  scenes,  and  his 

*  In  the  island  of  Owyhee,  or  Hawaii. 
G 


62  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

waking  reverie  is  sometimes  almost  as  glowing  as 
his  dream.  Yet  he  has  a  sort  of  feeling,  even  while 
he  dreams  or  muses,  that  the  pictures  and  the  ob- 
jects are  but  ideal ; — and  when  awake,  a  prevailing 
doubt  as  to  the  veracity  or  accuracy  of  these  travel- 
lers, and  as  to  the  existence,  at  least  in  their  mag- 
nitude or  detail,  of  objects  so  astonishing.  Sophron, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a  person  less  apt,  whether 
waking  or  sleeping,  to  form  vivid  and  intense  con- 
ceptions. His  mental  vision  of  these  objects  is 
less  graphic  and  splendid  than  that  of  Ardentio. 
He  has  also  his  shades  of  doubt  and  clouds  of  sus- 
picion concerning  the  narrators  and  the  facts,  and 
yet  he  maintains  a  prevailing  confidence  in  the 
fidelity  of  the  former  and  the  correctness  of  the 
latter.  It  may  be  objected — what  you  call  So- 
phron's  real  faith  in  these  things,  differs  but  equivo- 
cally, when  it  becomes  hesitating  and  clouded,  from 
what  you  deem  a  delusive  substitute  for  faith  in  Ar- 
dentio. There  is  suspicion  in  both  cases.  If  both 
were  merchants,  and  any  gainful,  though  arduous 
enterprise  of  commerce  could  be  grounded  on  the 
facts — if  the  crystals  of  sulphur*  in  the  lava  of 
Kirauea  were  described  as  ores  of  silver,  or  if  the 
"  beautiful  siliceous  incrustations  "  f  on  the  margin 
of  the  Geysers,  were  said  to  possess  the  quality  of 
jewels,  would  Sophron  be  more  likely  than  Ardentio 

*  Ellis's  Hawaii,  p.  230.         f  Hooker's  Iceland,  i.  pp.  142,  151. 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  63 

to  send  an  agent  thither  at  his  cost  ? — I  presume  he 
would  be  much  more  so.  The  doubts  of  Ardentio 
secretly  prevail  even  while  he  is  most  absorbed  and 
enchanted  by  the  imagined  sublimity  and  splendour 
of  the  scenes :  those  of  Sophron  chiefly  intrude 
when  his  mind  is  dejected  and  beclouded,  prone  to 
question  evidence  and  to  magnify  objections.  It  is 
true  that,  in  his  darkest  and  least  sanguine  moments, 
he  might  very  reluctantly  hazard  anything  on  the 
veracity  of  these  accounts  ;  but  I  conceive  he  would 
be  far  more  prepared  to  do  so,  in  serener  hours,  than 
the  imaginative  Ardentio  even  amidst  his  most  de- 
lightful musings. 

Reverting  from  this  imperfect  comparison  to  the 
states  of  mind  which  it  was  introduced  to  illustrate, 
we  urge  this  substantial  distinction,  that  in  one  case 
the  moral  inefficacy  exists,  while  the  objects  are 
"vividly  contemplated  and  theoretically  admired/' 
that,  in  short,  the  suspicion  of  their  not  being  real, 
is  here  combined  with  a  lively  and  elated  fancy, 
miscalled  faith  ;  while,  in  the  other  case,  it  results 
from  a  clouded,  sombrous  imagination,  apprehensive 
that  the  objects  are  not  real,  or  that,  if  real,  they 
are  not  believed,  because  discerned  so  "darkly." 
Now,  if  so,  the  attendant  ineflicacy  (even  were  it 
equal  for  the  time)  will  be  obviously  of  very  differ- 
ent character  and  augury  :  the  one  is  the  inefficacy 
of  what  apparent  faith  there  is,  at  its  very  brightest; 
the  other,  that  of  what  real  faith  there  is,  at  its  very 
G  2 


64  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III, 

darkest ;  the  one  party  may  be  stationary  and  un- 
profitable even  amidst  the  best  combination  and 
brightest  exhibitions  of  the  fireworks  "  he  has  kin- 
dled ;  "  the  other  is  certainly  not  more  so  (it  may 
be  hoped  not  so  much  so)  amidst  the  heaviest  clouds 
which  consciously  obscure  and  make  dubious  each 
glimmering  constellation  of  his  sky. 

Or  to  adopt  another,  yet  a  nearly  related  figure, 
there  may  seem  as  much  difference  between  the 
view  of  humble  faith,  dim  as  it  may  be,  and  that  of 
an  elated  fancy — as  between  a  faint  glimpse  of  the 
true  sun,  through  or  beneath  a  cloud,  and  the  bright 
image  of  a  mock  sun  or  parhelion,  on  a  cloud  :  be- 
tween the  sight  of  real  lakes  and  palm  trees,  from 
a  mountain  top,  caught  now  and  then,  and  tremb- 
lingly, through  opening  mists  and  hazy  distances, 
and  that  of  a  cloudless  mirage,  the  bright  but  false 
apparition  of  those  same  welcome  objects,  gazed  on 
in  the  desert. 

Of  this  kind,  we  need  not  hesitate  to  conclude, 
has  been  the  religion  or  faith  of  heathens  :  the 
creed,  if  it  can  admit  that  name,  of  all  mythologies. 
The  pantheon  of  each  idolatry  can  have  been  little 
or  nothing  else  than  a  spectacle  of  imagination  to  its 
dreaming  votaries.  Accordingly,  they  might  in 
turn  be  powerfully  soothed  or  stimulated  by  its  in- 
fluence, but  still  by  a  splendid  reverie,  not  a  sacred 
reality.  They  might  yield  themselves  to  the  illu- 
sions slightly  or  profoundly ;  but  only  just  as  far 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  65 

as  the  bias  of  the  heart  concurred :  they  could  not 
therefore  be  checked  in  evil  or  impelled  to  good, 
even  by  what  vras  best  in  it,  except  so  far  as  some 
terrors  responding  to  innate  convictions  of  Divine 
justice,  were  masked  under  the  forms  that  fancy  had 
embodied.  But  in  those  minds  whose  self-deception 
amidst  the  light  of  heavenly  truth,  we  have  been 
seeking  to  illustrate,  the  gospel  itself  seems  perverted 
into  something  like  a  sublime  mythology ;  and 
though  its  holy  scenes  must  be  the  very  contrast  of 
pagan  fable,  yet  the  holiest  system,  if  it  be  but  fer- 
vidly imagined,  and  not  in  some  measure  wakefully 
believed,  will  have  little  or  no  practical  and  con- 
straining power.  It  will  excite  transient  feelings, 
but  yet  be  very  inoperative  on  habitual  demeanour. 
We  know  that  romance  or  fictitious  tragedy,  or  a 
ground-work  of  historic  fact  under  romantic  or 
tragic  embellishment,  often  produces  strong  emo- 
tions ;  and  this  even  when  silently  read,  without 
any  of  the  added  illusions  of  the  scene  ;  yet  its  real 
moral  influence,  in  producing  a  spirit  like  that 
which  it  depicts  as  admirable,  is  I  suppose  exceed- 
ingly small.  Biography,  when  authentic,  though 
comparatively  unexciting,  practically  moves  a  great 
deal  more ;  and  actions  that  are  believed  to  have 
been  wrought  for  our  own  benefit,  which  move 
therefore  to  gratitude  as  well  as  imitation,  have  a 
still  far  greater  moral  power,  a  power  of  combined 
forces,  and  both  eff'ective. 

G  3 


66  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  HI. 

Here  let  me  introduce  a  thouglit,  which,  though 
rather  digressive,  should  not,  as  it  appears  to  me, 
be  withholden.  It  was  impressively  stated,  in  a 
preliminary  lecture,  by  a  late  eminent  Scottish  pro- 
fessor of  natural  philosophy,  that  the  actual  physical 
wonders  of  creation  far  transcend  the  boldest  and 
most  hyperbolical  imaginings  of  poetic  minds;  "that 
the  reason  of  Newton  and  Galileo  took  a  sublimer 
flight  than  the  fancy  of  Milton  and  Ariosto."* 
That  this  is  quite  true,  I  need  only  refer  you  to  a 
few  astronomical  facts  glanced  at  in  subsequent 
pages  of  this  volume,  in  order  to  evince.  But  it  is 
not  less  true,  and  it  is  quite  analogous,  that  by  the 
moral  wonders  of  Redemption,  the  loftiest  flights  of 
imagination  are  still  more  exceeded. 

Those  instances  of  the  moral  sublime,  the  pathetic, 
the  heroic,  which  it  is  the  very  province  and  sphere 
of  poetic  invention  (of  romance  and  tragedy)  to 
model  or  depict,  are  really  and  infinitely  surpassed 
by  the  simply  narrated  facts  of  Christ's  humiliation, 
labours,  and  self-sacrifice.  There  is  indeed,  else- 
where, a  tinsel  of  the  false  sublime,  derived  from 
worldly  gauds  and  decoration,  from  a  complexity  of 
device  and  a  strong  infusion  of  earthly  feeling, 
which  makes  the  fictions  much  more  attractive  to 
our  pride,  curiosity,  and  earthly  affections ;  but  in 
the  true  sublime,  what  can  approach  the  facts  of 

*  Manuscript  Notes  of  Playfair's  Natural  Philosophy  Lectures. 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  67 

the  gospel — what  specimen  of  self-abdicating  gran- 
deur, of  unostentatious  fortitude,  of  romantic  and 
disinterested  tenderness,  can  be  once  named  with 
the  "  unvarnished  tale "  of  the  unlearned  evan- 
gelists ? 

This  strikes  me  as  one  strong  presumptive  proof, 
that  their  tale  is  true  ;  that  the  history  of  redemp- 
tion is  authentic.  And  not  merely  because  it  were 
passing  strange,  if  such  writers  as  those  of  the  four 
Gospels  should  in  their  homely  fictions  have  left  all 
poets  and  inventors  far  behind,  but  also,  because  if 
their  history  were  false,  it  would  follow  that  human 
nature  had  in  other  instances  exhibited  or  conceived 
acts  of  moral  heroism,  of  which  there  is  no  known 
archetype  or  anticipation  (so  to  speak)  in  the  Divine. 
The  reputed  volitions  and  acts  of  creatures,  and  of 
very  imperfect  and  depraved  creatures — such  as  the 
patriotism  of  Curtius,  the  friendship  of  Pylades  or 
Terentius,*  the  conjugal  devotion  of  Eleanora — 
would  have  in  them  a  generous  self-sacrificing 
quality,  not  apparent  in  any  revealed  act,  nor  I 
think  conceivable  by  us  in  any  unrevealed  act  of 
the  Creator.f  My  argument  does  not  found  itself 
on  the  truth  of  these  or  other  such  histories  of 
self-devotement.  Were  they  all  fictions  or  exag- 
gerations, as  some  of  them  probably  are,  still  the 

*  See  this  and  some  similar  instances  in  Valerius   Maximus. 
Exam.  Mem.  lib.  iv.  c.  7. 

t  See  Note  D,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


bo  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

moral  idea  developed  in  them,  and  with  incompa- 
rably more  grandeur  in  the  story  of  our  redemption 
by  Christ  Jesus,  would  be  a  human  idea  of  virtue 
to  which  nothing  analogous  would  be  known  to 
exist,  or  known  even  to  be  possible,  in  the  acts  or 
counsels  of  the  Perfect  Being.^  It  may,  I  hope 
without  irreverence,  be  added,  that  not  even  the 
idea  of  mere  munificence  can  be  realised  from  the 
ordinary  gifts  of  God,  (were  they  ever  so  immensely 
enlarged,)  in  the  same  sense  as  when  a  man  be- 
stows "  all  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor/'  or  to  "  re- 
deem his  brother ; "  because  the  amplest  gifts  of 
God's  providence  can  in  no  wise  straiten  or  im- 
poverish the  creative  Giver. 

If  redemption  by  a  Divine  Saviour  were  not  a 
truth,  (if  Scripture  were  only  to  be  taken  in  the  sense 
of  the  "  rationalists/')  then,  although  power  and 
wisdom  would  be  divinely  exemplified  in  creation, 
and  amazing  forhearanc  in  the  treatment  of  sinful 
and  ungrateful  man,  we  should  possess,  for  some 
other  human  excellencies,  no  express  Divine  Ex- 
emplar, nor  even  parallel.  It  could  not  be  intelli- 
gibly enjoined  by  an  apostle  who  should  urge  a  self- 
denying,  self-sacrificing  kindness — "  Let  this  mind 
be  in  you  which"  is  also  in  the  Deity. —  For  such  a 
mind  or  act  in  Deity,  would  be  on  that  supposition 
unascertained.     It  is  then  alone  discovered,  when 

*  See  Note  D,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  69 

we  discover  and  recognise  in  Scripture,  the  fact, 
that  "  the  Word  became  incarnate,  and  tabernacled 
among  us."*  Its  Divine  exemplification  (and  as 
far  as  we  can  imagine,  its  only  possible  exemplifica- 
tion) to  man,  is  through  the  mysteriously  consti- 
tuted person  of  Christ ;  who,  "  though  he  was  rich, 
yet  for  our  sakes  became  poor,"  and  "  being  in  the 
form  of  God,"  took  on  him,  by  some  unknown  occup- 
ation of  uncreated  glory,  "  the  form  of  a  servant." 

Generosity  and  heroic  love  were  then  displayed 
to  the  universe  by  a  veritably  peerless  and  godlike 
model,  when  "  the  Lord  of  Life,  unable  of  Himself 
to  die,  contrived  to  do  it."  f 

He,  therefore,  who  receives  as  true  the  record  of 
our  Lord's  exinanition  %  and  sacrifice,  must  find  all 
other  facts  and  ideas  of  moral  elevation,  self-de- 
votement,  romantic  virtue,  among  men,  far  beneath 
that  Divine  idea  and  exhibition  of  them.  And  this 
unquestionably  is  as  it  ought  to  be.  He,  on  the  con- 
trary, who  regards  that  view  of  it  as  an  exaggerated 
and  fabulous  misstatement  of  a  simple  martyrdom, 
ought,  I  think,  to  admit,  not  only  that  men  have 
conceived  an  act  more  sublime  than  their  Creator 
is  known  to  have  wrought,  but,  also,  that  in  all  vir- 
tuous suffering,  active  and  passive,  they  in  reality 
have  achieved  and  endured  what  Deity  cannot  in 

*  John  i.  14.  See  Dr.  J.  P.  Smith,  Scrip.  Test.  ii.  396,  and 
iii.  69. 

t  Herbert — Prayer  before  Sermon, 


70  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

any  sense  conceivably  achieve  or  endure.'*^  For  ex- 
cept in  an  assumed  and  passible  nature,  we  cannot 
conceive  of  Deity  as  in  any  sense  exercising  those 
virtues  or  perfections,  from  which  we  may  directly 
learn  how  to  suffer,  to  renounce ,  to  obey,  "  to  spend 
and  to  be  spent." 

The  act  of  the  self- torturing  Mucius,  and  the 
temper  of  the  condemned  Socrates,  seemed  to  be, 
according  to  the  loftiest  and  most  philosophic  no- 
tion of  the  Divine  nature,  not  possible  with  God  ; 
but  when  the  "  Son  of  man  " — "  God  with  us  " — 
"  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minister, 
and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom,"  then  was  it  seen  that 
the  transcendent  prototype  of  suffering  virtue  had 
ever  existed  in  the  purpose,  and  was  now  at  length 
developed  in  the  human  acts  and  human  endurance 
of  Him  who  "  was  with  God  and  was  God  :"  that 
the  original  "patterns"  or  "  models  "t  of  these 
moral  glories  (of  which  human  examples  had  pre- 
sented some  faint  and  distorted  outlines,  or  broken 
and  imperfect  sketches  %)  were  "  in  the  heavens  " 
alone. 

This  appears  to  me  quite  worthy  of  being  weigh- 
ed, as  a  presumption  for  the  truth  of  the  most  won- 
derful and  affecting  of  records,  the  incarnation  and 
suffering  of  the  Son  of  God.  Such,  however,  was  not 

*  See  Note  E,  at  the  end  of  the  volume, 
t  Ti/TTos,  Heb.  viii.  5,  et  Act.  vii.  44. 
+  vTroSEiyfiuTa,  Heb.  viii.  5,  et  ix.  23. 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINK.  71 

my  direct  purpose  in  adducing  it :  but  to  point  out 
the  probability  that  this  great  recorded  fact,  which 
ineffably  surpasses  and  eclipses  all  romance — this 
"most  touching  or  pathetic  of  all  doctrines"* — 
may  be  mentally  gazed  upon  as  if  romance,  and 
attract  some  minds  under  that  aspect  only.  1  do 
not  now  at  all  contemplate  the  case  of  its  being  re- 
jected or  (/isbelieved,  but  that  of  its  being  conceived 
as  a  picture,  and  not  held  and  "  held  fast "  as  a 
fact.  Hard  it  may  be  to  discover  and  define  the 
specific  difference  between  a  real  yet  doubting  faith, 
and  this  sort  of  unreal,  imaginative  semblance  of 
faith  ;  but  that  such  a  difference  exists  is  pretty  cer- 
tain ;  and  moreover,  that  in  very  many,  perhaps  in 
all  pious  and  believing  minds,  a  portion  of  this  latter, 
fluctuating  with  inward  states  and  outward  circum- 
stances, generally  mingles. 

Hence  we  may  no  doubt  likewise  discern  a  pecu- 
liar danger,  and  infer  an  important  warning,  for 
the  whole  class  of  the  excitable  and  sanguine.  This 
class  is  to  be  found  in  every  station  of  society ;  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  more  among  its  higher  or 
inferior  ranks  :  there  is,  besides,  in  every  form  of 
Christian  worship  and  instruction  some  excitement 
provided  for  it ;  most  amply,  doubtless,  in  the  at- 
tractive ceremonials  of  the  Romish  church  ;  but  not 
scantily  in  the  popular  preaching  and  devotional 
poetry    of    other    communities.       Let    me    not   be 

*  De  Stael. 


72  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

supposed  to  entertain  an  opinion  that  tbe  exercise  of 
imagination  in  religion  is  censurable  or  not  bene- 
ficial :  on  the  contrary,  when  fitly  regulated,  the 
Christian  graces  are  all  exceedingly  enlivened  by  its 
aid.  Although,  in  the  supposed  instance  of  Ar- 
dentio,  a  lively  and  warm  imagination  has  been  re- 
presented as  not  accompanied  by  steadfast  and  prac- 
tical belief,  (a  case,  it  is  feared,  not  uncommon,)  it 
does  not  at  all  follow  that  these  qualities  cannot  be 
or  are  not  frequently  conjoined.  So  far  from  it, 
their  happy  combination,  as  the  peculiar  "gift  of 
God,"  has  been  the  great  means  to  endow  and  to 
uphold  the  most  zealous,  eminent,  successful  la- 
bourers in  the  "  work  of  Christ."  But  I  apprehend 
that  in  those  of  whatever  communion,  who  strangely 
combine  with  zeal  for  gospel  doctrines,  and  fervour 
of  attachment  to  them,  an  evil  temper  and  an  irre- 
gular or  unprofitable  conduct,  imagination  is  not 
auxiliary  to  faith,  but  is  placed  in  the  stead  of  it ; 
that  their  creed,  if  they  will  have  it  so  called,  is 
rather,  therefore,  that  dreaming  theory,  that  spec- 
tacle or  reverie  of  the  gospel,  which  we  have  sup- 
posed, than  belief  of  the  gospel  as  a  substantial 
system  of  truths  and  facts.  Imagination  may  be 
employed  either  with  an  aim  to  render  the  truth  or 
reality  more  near  and  vivid,  and  practically  appli- 
cable as  such — or  to  obtain  near  and  vivid  pictures, 
without  caring  much  about  the  realities  and  their 
uses.  The  same  reflecting  telescope  may  be  em- 
ployed by  different  observers  with  dissimilar  pur- 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  73 

poses.  One  class  may  look  eagerly  at  the  image  of 
our  moon,  with  her  supposed  oceans  and  volcanoes, 
or  of  the  planets  and  their  moons,  as  an  exciting  en- 
tertainment ; — the  other  class  may  be  earnestly  ob- 
serving a  lunar  eclipse,  or  the  immersion  of  a  satel- 
lite, as  objects  of  serious  and  practical  science. 

Neither  class  is  looking  at  those  celestial  bodies 
themselves,  but  at  their  small  and  imperfect  images 
thrown  upon  the  speculum  ;  the  former,  however, 
contemplate  them  rather  as  pictures  than  as  actual 
orbs  ;*  the  latter  apply  their  view  of  these  orbs  to 
the  most  important  uses  :  to  regulate,  for  example, 
a  perilous  navigation  of  untraversed  seas.  Now,  un- 
less the  mental  telescope — whether  with  or  withou*^ 
a  bright  imagination  for  its  speculum — be  thus  em- 
ployed when  contemplating  "  things  revealed,"  in 
seeking  actual  aid  and  guidance  and  government 
for  our  great  voyage,  so  as  to  secure  a  heaven- ward 
course  "  and  heaven  the  haven,"  it  can  with  no  more 
propriety  be  said  that  real  faith  is  exercised,  than 
that  real  science  is  prosecuted  by  the  fruitless  though 
possibly  rapturous  admirer  of  shadows  and  splen- 
dours on  the  moon's  disk. 

If  these  distinctions,  so  far  as  very  inadequate 

*  The  writer  once  knew  a  person  of  some  education,  of  strong 
sense  in  worldly  affairs,  and  of  a  generous  temper,  who,  with  unbe- 
lief in  religion,  professed  his  incredulity  as  to  the  magnitude  and 
distance  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  persisting  to  consider  them  as 
only  lamps  of  fire,  placed,  for  oiir  benefit  and  for  ornament,  in  the 
nearer  sky. 

H 


74  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

comparisons  can  explain  them,  be  found  intelligible 
and  just,  they  should  obviate  that  suspicion  con- 
cerning the  power  and  truth  of  Christianity,  which 
may  arise  from  witnessing  the  inconsistencies  and. 
falls  of  some  zealous  professors  ;  and  while  they  warn 
us  against  the  snare  which  it  has  been  thus  at- 
tempted to  disclose,  they  should  arm  us  also  against 
discouragement,  although  our  own  view  of  the  gos- 
pel may  rarely  or  never  glow  with  those  brilliant 
hues  which  a  warm  imagination  enkindles.  Let  us 
be  consoled,  for  their  absence  or  their  fading,  by  the 
strong  conviction — that  a  ray  of  faith  is  worth  far 
more  than  a  rainbow  of  fancy. 

The  rainbow,  however  brilliant  and  complete, 
vanishes  as  the  tempest  thickens.  The  vivid  theory 
or  spectacle  of  the  gospel  may  vanish  like  it  in  the 
gloom  of  a  sick  chamber,  or  of  a  troubled  and  debi- 
litated mind :  but  the  ray  pierces  through  the 
densest  storms  :  though  darkened  and  obstructed  to 
the  uttermost,  it  is  still  the  visible  consequence  and 
pledge  of  direct  or  reflected  sun-light ;  and  thus  a 
"  little  faith,"  obscured  and  trembling,  yet  earnest 
and  real,  in  the  great  facts  and  doctrines  of  salva- 
tion, may  actuate  and  sustain  the  soul  to  endure 
and  to  obey,  even  while  its  powers  are  prostrate ; 
while  "  the  whole  head  is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart 
is  faint."  He  that,  in  doing  or  in  suffering,  walk- 
eth  by  this  light,  "he  is  in  the  light ;"  and  al- 
though it  be  but  a  feeble  glimmering  "  in  a  dark 
place,"  how  much  more  safe  and  happy  is  his  lot 


HI.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  75 

than  that  of  those  who  "  walk  in  the  light  of  their 
own  fire,"  and,  if  God's  mercy  prevent  not,  will  "  lie 
down  in  sorrow!" 

It  has  been  already  intimated,  that  in  characters 
which,  we  trust,  by  the  possession  of  principles  really 
heaven-taught,  vitally  differ  from  those  of  such  un- 
happy self-deceivers,  (and  probably  in  your  own,) 
fancy  may  yet  in  too  predominant  a  measure  uncon- 
sciously coalesce  and  mingle  with  belief;  for  the 
tendencies  of  nature  are  not  extinct  in  minds  where 
grace  is  infused.  Some,  concerning  whom  we  may 
justly  hope,  that  they  are  indeed  believers,  but  whose 
warm  attachment  to  gospel  truth  is  not  accompanied 
by  so  "  much  fruit,"  or  not  so  destructive  of  faults 
and  infirmities,  as  one  might  reasonably  expect,  be- 
tray by  these  marks  the  undue  ascendency  of  imagin- 
ation and  the  torpor  or  scantiness  of  faith.  The  eye 
of  fancy  is  awake,  but  that  of  the  believing  heart  is 
too  often  closed  or  dim.  The  great  constraining 
facts  are  not,  as  facts,  brought  much  and  impres- 
sively into  contact  w4th  the  spirit,  and  the  visionary 
view  of  them  which  is  most  frequent,  has  little  in- 
fluence on  its  practical  resolves. 

Thus  also,  I  conceive,  we  may  somewhat  elucidate 
the  sources  of  that  spiritual  distress  and  weakness 
which  attend  the  fluctuations  of  feeling  incident  to 
many  imaginative  minds.  We  shall  suppose  such  a 
mind  endued  with  principles,  more  or  less  feeble,  of 
divine  and  vital  faith.  Now,  while  imagination  is 
vigorous  and  elated,  it  actively  concurs  with  these  ; 
H  2 


76  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

SO  actively  and  powerfully,  that  its  host  of  splendid 
and  swift  auxiliaries  may  be  too  often  trusted  and 
gloried  in,  as  if  they  were  the  best  and  tried  forces 
of  the  soul.  Those  few  plain  and  steadfast  prin- 
ciples, given  and  strengthened  from  above,  which 
must  form  the  reserve  and  real  force  in  conflict, 
seem  lost  in  that  "  aery  crowd,"  "  by  thousands 
trooping,"  or  submit  to  be  led  by  the  glittering  ad- 
vances of  those  whom  they  ought  to  govern.  But 
at  length,  and  perhaps  suddenly,  there  ensues  a 
dark  reverse.  Some  disease  within,  or  some  per- 
plexities without,  have  "  troubled  the  host."  The 
array  and  chivalry  of  imagination  are  put  to  flight 
by  the  gloom,  and  from  being  vain-glorious  auxili- 
aries, they  turn  at  once  to  do  the  work  of  foes.  For 
they  now  inspire  confusion  and  dismay,  proclaiming 
that  all  is  lost ;  persuading  the  mind  that  its  firmest 
principles  are  wholly  sunk,  or  were  but  ideal  like 
themselves.  True,  the  little  band  from  heaven 
secretly  stand  fast  and  survive — like  champions  of 
whom  we  have  read,  that  maintained  in  darkness 
the  bridge  or  the  defile — but  now  in  sad  desertion, 
struggling  hard  and  often  foiled  ;  smarting  for  the 
hollowness  of  those  unsteady  succours  on  which  they 
had  too  much  relied  and  calculated. 

It  is  thus,  I  apprehend,  that  you  may  in  a  great 
measure  account  for  those  changes  and  declensions 
which  discourage  and  afflict  you.  Not  that  I  would 
seem  to  forget  or  limit  the  sovereignty  or  import- 
ance of  direct  spiritual  influence  both  in   its  gifts 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  77 

and  its  withdrawments  ;  but  we  are  not  authorized 
to  overlook  instrumental  causes  where  they  exist ; 
and  it  is  doubtless,  often  if  not  always,  the  method 
of  Divine  discipline  to  make  our  idiosyncrasy  (or 
peculiar  bodily  and  mental  constitution)  instru- 
mental to  our  spiritual  vicissitudes.  If  then  we  are 
by  temperament  peculiarly  liable  to  such  reverses, 
we  must  learn  to  be  especially  prepared  for  them. 
In  seasons  when  imagination  promptly  and  perhaps 
ardently  lends  herself  to  hope,  we  must  seek  "  wis- 
dom from  above,"  to  use  and  estimate  her  aids 
with  caution  ;  as  in  their  very  nature  temporary 
and  variable,  never  therefore  to  be  leant  and  rested 
on  : — at  periods,  on  the  contrary,  when  she  surren- 
ders herself  most  to  fear,  we  must  supplicate  and 
employ  a  heavenly  strength  to  stem  the  mischiefs 
and  alarms  of  her  confused  discomfiture,  and  "  stand 
in  the  evil  day." 

On  the  whole  view  of  this  subject,  it  is  not  to  be 
inferred  from  the  presence  or  the  absence,  the  vari- 
ation or  great  instability,  of  some  emotions  and 
mental  excitements,  that  there  dwells  in  the  heart 
no  real  or  abiding  principle  of  faith.  We  ought  in- 
deed to  call  to  mind,  with  humility  and  self-diffi- 
dence in  the  brightest  hours,  as  we  shall  with  sadness 
in  the  darkest,  that  very  much  of  what  scintillates 
and  glitters  is  not  solid  and  enduring.  By  such  ex- 
perience we  are  to  be  "  humbled  and  proved," 
warned  and  disciplined  ;  but  we  are  not  warranted 
to  conclude  from  it,  the  non-existence  of  that  which, 
H   3 


78  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

though  less  superficially  bright  and  abundant,  has 
a  sterling  worth  and  an  imperishable  quality.  There 
may,  it  is  true,  be  fragments  raised  from  a  mine 
which  are  of  quite  delusive  promise  ;  which  abound 
in  shining  spar  or  metallic  spangles,  yet  are  found 
to  yield  not  a  granule  of  the  precious  metals  :  but 
does  therefore  the  presence  of  those  several  sub- 
stances disprove  that  of  precious  metal,  or  is  it  even 
a  presumption  against  this  ?  Far  otherwise.  On 
the  contrary,  those  substances  usually  accompany, 
and)  therefore,  in  some  sort  indicate,  that  which  is 
sought. 

So  the  presence  of  some  romantic  aspiring  for 
what  is  perfect  and  unearthly,  and  a  cast  of  mind 
in  religion  too  imaginative  and  poetic,  may  variously 
alloy  the  Christian  character,  causing  it  deceptively 
to  promise  or  display  far  more  than  the  amount  of 
its  practical  and  real  worth  ;  yet  may  it  no  way  dis- 
prove the  existence  of  true  piety,  but  rather  afford 
some  hopeful  indication  that  this  genuine  principle 
is  not  altogether  wanting. 

We  have  seen,  in  the  rich  mines  of  Cornwall, 
masses  of  ore  first  roughly  broken,  then  pulverized 
by  hammers,  then  washed  repeatedly,  in  order  to 
detach  the  metal  from  the  earths,  then  heated  to 
remove  the  glittering  mundic  combined  with  it, 
which  becomes  the  most  deadly  of  mineral  poisons  ; 
and  lastly,  we  have  watched  the  pure  residue,  small 
in  comparative  amount,  but  sterling  in  quality, 
smelted  and  ''delivered  into  the  mould." 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  79 

In  their  proportions  of  foreign  matter,  those  first 
crude  fragments  greatly  differed.  Sometimes  but 
a  few  grains  of  pure  metal  can  be  severed.  And 
this  may  hitherto  be  but  too  just  and  humbling  an 
emblem  of  your  Christianity  and  my  own.  Much 
more  literally  may  we  have  to  say,  than  devout 
Herbert  wrote — 

"  The  good  extract  of  my  heart 


Comes  to  about  the  many  hundredth  part." 

Yet  let  us  not  despond  ;  rather,  in  the  phrase  of 
miners,  let  us  "  adventure."  We  adventure  on  no 
earthly  promise,  but  on  His  word  who  hath  said, 
"  Happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom — for  the 
merchandise  of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandise  of 
silver.  —  She  is  more  precious  than  rubies."*  — 
"  Blessed  are  they  which  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  for  they  shall  be  filled." — By  a  deeper 
solicitude  and  diligence  in  prayer  and  scriptural 
meditation,  let  us  labour  fervently  for  a  purer,  richer 
vein  (so  to  speak)  of  Christian  attainment ;  trusting 
in  Him,  who  "  sitteth  as  a  Refiner  and  Purifier  " 
still  ; — assured,  that  as  "  the  fining  pot  is  for  silver 
and  the  furnace  for  gold,"  so,  "  the  Lord  trieth  the 
hearts  ; "  trieth  them  by  various  agents  and  expe- 
dients, "  as  gold  is  tried  ;  "  '^  refineth  them  as  silver 
is  refined ; " f  that  He  will  but "  purge  in  the  furnace 

*  Prov.  iii.  13,  15.  t  Zech.  xiii.  9. 


80  SUSPICIONS    THAT    FAITH  III. 

the  dross  and  remove  all  the  alloy,"*  so  that  we 
shall  come  forth  "as  silver  seven  times  purified." 
His  "  Word,"  his  Providence,  his  Spirit,  are  "  as  a 
fire,"  "  as  a  hammer  that  breaketh  the  rock,"  and 
as  the  cleansing  stream.  Much  that  is  sparkling 
will  be  swept  away  and  vanish,  much  that  is  bane- 
ful will  be  dissipated  in  the  smoke  of  the  furnace ; 
but  some  pure  and  solid  particles  will,  I  trust,  re- 
main :  in  His  hand  they  cannot  be  lost ; — and  thus 
"  the  trial  of  your  faith,  (far  more  precious  than  of 
gold  that  perisheth,)  though  it  be  tried  with  fire," 
shall  be  to  his  "  praise,  and  honour,  and  glory,"  in 
the  final  day. 

We  should  beware  of  something  like  presumption 
under  the  garb  of  humility  :  taking  heed  lest  sus- 
picion and  caution  do  the  work  of  rashness,  when 
we  hesitate  or  scruple  to  ascribe  to  special  grace, 
any  "  good  thing"  which  is  found  in  us  towards  the 
"  Lord  God  of  Israel," — any  measures  of  spiritual 
discernment,  sincere  attention,  and  awakened  feel- 
ing. At  the  same  time,  let  us  honestly  pray,  and 
humbly  watch,  against  our  own  spirit  and  "  the 
spirit  of  the  world,"  and  for  an  accession  of  the 
Spirit  which  is  of  God  :  "f — who  gives  neither  that 
*'of  fear,"  nor  of  illusion,  nor  of  presumption,  but 
"  of  love,  and  power,  and  of  a  sound  mind." 

He  can  effectually  teach  and  animate  us  to  forget 

*  Isa.  i.  25.     Lowth's  translation,  f  1  Cor.  ii.  12. 


III.  MAY    NOT    BE    GENUINE.  81 

"the  things  which  are  behind,"  in  such  a  sense  and 
manner  as  they  ought  to  be  forgotten,  and  to  press 
"  along  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  his  high  calling  in 
Christ  Jesus  ;  "  *  rejoicing  in  Him  who  is  the  "  Puri- 
fier "  as  well  as  Redeemer  of  his  people,  and  need- 
ing in  earth  or  heaven  no  other  confidence. 

*  See  Macknight  on  Philip,  iii.  14. 


IV. 


ON  FEARS  THAT  FAITH  OR  CONVERSION  IS  NOT 
GENUINE,  ARISING  FROM  A  NICE  ANALYSIS  OR 
SCRUTINY  OF  MOTIVES. 

There  is  implied,  in  the  apprehensions  which  dis- 
quiet you,  what  should  in  itself  be  matter  of  preli- 
minary thankfulness  and  hope  ; — namely,  that  you 
do  not  reject  revealed  truth,  but  in  some  sense  re- 
vere and  receive  it ;  that  you  deeply  feel  at  times 
its  value  and  importance  ;  that  you  can  trace  many 
desires  and  purposes,  some  acts  and  habits,  to  its  im- 
pulse as  their  motive ;  or  at  least,  as  one  motive 
which  has  assuredly  combined  with  others  to  make 
the  impulse  adequate ;  so  that,  had  it  been  want- 
ing, the  purposes  and  acts  would  not  have  been  pro- 
duced. Such  degrees  of  regard  to  Christianity,  and 
such  consequences  arising  from  them,  you  will  not 
disclaim.  I  advert  to  them  not  as  in  themselves 
at  all  sufficient  to  preclude  your  present  fear,  but 


IV,  FEARS    FROM    SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  83 

as  admissions  on  which  some  thoughts  may  be 
founded,  tending  both  to  evince  to  you  that  this 
fear  is  not  necessarily  just,  and  to  correct  those 
errors  of  the  heart  by  the  perception  of  which  it  is 
excited.  When  you  trace  and  investigate,  or  dis- 
cover unawares,  the  secret  springs  of  conduct,  you 
are  frequently  distressed  by  the  suspicion  that  your 
kind  of  faith  may  prove  at  last  to  have  been  not 
saving  faith  ;  your  sort  of  conversion  not  the  real. 
I  suppose  the  sources  of  this  fear  to  be  in  your  case 
chiefly  the  following.  First,  your  dictinct  know- 
ledge of  the  character  or  import  of  Christ's  gospel 
— as  a  free  and  complete  salvation  for  the  lost — has 
clearly  and  perfectly  informed  you,  that  the  truly 
religious  or  Christian  kind  of  well-doing,  is  that 
which  is  prompted  by  the  principle  of  love  to  God ; 
either  under  the  modification  of  grateful  filial  love 
to  Him  as  our  infinite  Benefactor,  or  that  of  re- 
verent and  imitative  filial  love  to  Him  as  the  in- 
finite Author  and  Exemplar  of  perfection.  You 
are  well  aware  that  the  Divine  Founder  of  our 
faith,  and  the  apostles  whom  he  inspired,  touch  the 
true  springs  of  devout  and  heavenly  obedience,  when 
they  say,  "Be  ye  perfect,  even  as  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect ;  "  "  As  He  which  hath 
called  you  is  holy,  so  be  ye  holy  ; "  and  also,  "  Ye 
are  bought  with  a  price,  therefore,  glorify  God  ; " 
"  I  beseech  you  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  pre- 
sent your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  ;  " 
"  Be  ye  followers  of  God  as  dear  children ; "  and 


84  FEARS    FROM  IV. 

that  this  strong  declaration,  "  Though  I  bestow  all 
my  goods  in  alms,  and  though  I  give  my  body  to 
be  burned,  and  have  not  love,  it  profiteth  me  no- 
thing,"— must  apply  to  want  of  love  to  God  and  a 
desire  to  please  Him,  as  well  as  of  love  to  man. 
You  distinctly  know  that  love  to  God  is  the  first 
and  great  command,  binding  even  originally  on  ac- 
count of  our  creation  and  preservation,  and  all  the 
benefits  of  this  life,  but  unspeakably  the  more  on 
account  of  the  inestimable  and  constraining  mercy 
of  redemption.  Meanwhile  you  are  painfully  ap- 
prized by  self- inspection,  how  often  this  pure  motive 
of  devout  and  grateful  love,  or  reverential  imitative 
love,  as  immediately  prompting  your  obedience,  is 
unapparent.  Do  not,  however,  overlook  what  ap- 
pears to  be  a  just  and  important  distinction.  We 
are  not  to  infer  that  this  motive  is  non-existent 
whenever  it  is  unapparent  or  unfelt :  that  there  is 
no  principle  acting,  because  there  may  be  no  emo- 
tion or  sentiment  awake.  It  were  indeed  most 
happy  to  have  this  love  always  consciously  actuating 
and  impelling  the  mind  as  an  emotion ;  but  it  would 
be  quite  wrong  to  conclude  that  such  is  not  the 
governing  and  primary  impulse  to  a  course  of  con- 
duct, because  it  may  not,  in  very  many  details  of 
that  course,  be  sensibly  so.  Let  us  suppose  that 
from  gratitude  and  esteem  to  a  distant  or  disabled 
friend,  you  undertook  to  manage  his  farm  or  su- 
perintend his  merchandise.  If  in  the  daily  variety 
of  such  transactions,  those  feelings  or  even  imme- 


IV.  SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  85 

diate  motives  were  often  absent  from  your  mind — 
so  that  sometimes  no  direct  impulse  should  remain 
except  this  general  impression,  (resulting  from  the 
judgment  and  feeling  of  times  past,)  that  what  you 
were  now  doing  was  right,  and  must  be  done — 
could  it  thence  be  argued  that  esteem  and  gratitude 
had  ceased  to  be  the  actual  principle  and  motive 
of  your  conduct?  Is  it  not  rather  certain  that  these 
thoughts  and  sentiments  might  be  frequently  ex- 
cluded or  blunted  for  the  time,  only  by  those  very 
exertions  and  fatigues  wdiich  their  own  strength 
in  your  mind  originally  prompted  ?  The  great 
question  is — Are  you  doing  those  things  by  which 
you  will  serve  your  friend,  and  doing  them  diligent- 
ly ?  Would  this  be  the  case  if  you  had  no  love  to 
him? 

I  grant  that  where  other  motives  may  concur, 
— such  as  the  hope  either  of  some  tangible  or  ideal  re- 
ward, the  prospect  of  gain  or  commendation, — there 
is  great  reason  to  "  examine  and  prove  our  own 
selves;"  and  the  apprehension  that  such  preponde- 
rate is  probably  the  chief  origin  of  your  fear.  For 
you,  perhaps,  hardly  question  the  existence  of  some 
occasional  love,  both  in  the  form  of  veneration  and 
gratitude,  to  God,  as  a  motive  of  your  obedience  : 
but  you  feel  more  sensibly  the  strength  of  others, 
and  are  consciously  certain  that  this  one  never  sub- 
sists and  acts  with  unmixed  purity  ;  rarely,  if  ever, 
with  a  clear  undisputed  predominance. 


86  FEARS    FROM 


IV. 


You  own  not  that  happy,  unquestionable  charac- 
ter— "singleness  of  heart  as  unto  Christ;"  but 
perpetually  detect  the  movement  of  those  proud  and 
pharisaic,  or  those  self-seeking  and  mercenary  tem- 
pers, which  the  light  and  spirit  of  the  gospel  so 
powerfully  reprove  and  explode.  For  these  we 
ought  doubtless  to  be  ever  humbled,  and  to  exert 
against  them  a  far  more  strenuous  vigilance  ;  but 
while  unallowed  and  combated,  while  prayed  and 
watched  against,  with  a  true  desire  for  the  culti- 
vation and  prevalence  of  those  motives  which  are 
highest  and  most  pure,  their  existence  can  afford 
no  reason  for  despondency.  And  as  to  the  anxious 
question  of  their  present  or  occasional  predominance, 
it  ought  not  to  be  forgotten,  that  these  unchristian 
and  inferior  motives,  which  you  are  concerned  to 
eradicate,  are  not  foreign  and  infused  principles, 
but  innate  and  worldly  feelings,  in  their  very  nature 
sensitive  and  obtrusive  :  whereas  the  deep  and 
heaven-born  sentiment  which  you  would  have  to 
reign  in  your  heart  and  actuate  your  life,  is  of  a 
spiritual,  retired,  and  tranquil  kind  ;  and  were  its 
gentle  though  constraining  power  greater  than  you 
can  feel  or  believe  it  actually  to  be,  its  force  might 
still  remain  frequently  less  apparent,  its  actings  less 
perceptible,  than  those  of  other  impulses  which  might 
combine  with  it.  —  A  vessel  heavily  and  richly 
freighted  is  ascending  a  navigable  river.  Each  pas- 
senger remarks  the  variable  gusts  that  swell  her 


TV.  SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  87 

sails,  the  light  breezes  which  flutter  in  her  pennons, 
the  towing-ropes  which  are  attached  and  acting 
from  the  shore  ;  yet  without  the  tide,  that  unper- 
ceived  and  quiet,  yet  powerful  and  equable  motive^ 
which  silently  uplifts  and  as  silently  bears  her  on — 
not  all  these  other  forces  would  either  carry  her 
keel  over  the  shallows,  or  bring  her  weight  steadily 
and  effectively  up  the  stream.* 

But  besides  those  movements  of  selfishness  and 
pride,  those  hidden  covetings  of  praise  or  estimation, 

*  This  comparison,  like  many  others,  is  applicable  only  in  the 
single  point  for  which  it  is  adduced.  It  is  an  analogical  instance 
in  physics  of  what  we  think  is  true  in  morals — that  the  steadiest, 
strongest,  and  most  elevating  impulse  is  not  always  the  most  dis- 
cernible and  obvious.  To  press  the  comparison  at  other  points 
were  to  misapply  and  to  pervert  it.  It  may  be  a  matter  of  no  mo- 
ment at  all  by  what  impulses  the  ship  is  moved  ;  though  the  pilot, 
it  is  probable,  would  prefer  a  tide  which  of  itself  were  strong 
enough,  even  to  the  fairest  breeze  that  might  shift  or  die  away 
during  her  progress;  and  much  more  to  any  artificial  force. 
Still  the  mere  progress,  and  not  the  kind  of  impulse,  is  his  great 
concern. 

But  if,  by  the  misuse  of  this  or  any  other  figure,^  or  of  the  state- 
ments with  which  it  is  connected,  we  should  be  at  all  the  less  soli- 
citous that  motives  purely  evangelical  may  dominantly  and  more 
consciously  impel  and  govern  our  course  of  Christian  conduct,  this 
would  be  abusing  considerations  which  have  been  suggested  with 
the  hope  of  abating  a  hurtful  anxiety,  for  the  purpose  of  fostering 
an  unhappy  indiflference.  Reference  has  been  made  in  the  preface 
to  the  possibility  of  such  perversions.  May  both  writer  and  readers 
be  preserved  from  them. 

•  e.  g.  See  p.  78,  above. 

I  2 


88  FEARS    FROM  IV. 

those  wishes  of  personal  distinction  and  influ- 
ence, or  that  secret  sentiment  of  vain  self-com- 
placence,^  which  you  are  justly  anxious  to  subdue, 
there  is  a  disposition,  more  equivocal  and  obscure, 
yet  not  undiscernible  from  within,  to  perform  duties 
chiefly  with  a  desire  to  strengthen  the  "  evidences  " 
of  our  conversion  ;  to  confirm  or  revive,  by  mul- 
tiplying the  fruits  of  faith,  the  hope  that  faith  is 
genuine  and  such  as  will  "  accompany  salvation." 
Now  this,  if  really  adopted  as  a  primary  motive, 
(although  half-latent  to  the  anxious  mind  which 
instinctively  acts  on  it,)  is  not  scriptural  or  com- 
mendable. 

We  ought  to  be  primarily  and  supremely  influ- 
enced by  a  grateful  adoring  desire,  to  please  Him 
who  hath  "  first  loved  us,"  and  who  so  "  abundantly 
pardoneth,"  as  to  acquire  each  day  and  hour  new 
titles  to  our  love  :  not  by  a  purpose  or  solicitude  to 
prove  to  ourselves  the  fact  that  we  do  thus  desire  to 
please  Him.  Besides  which,  such  a  motive,  when 
detected  or  recognised  by  us  as  the  governing  im- 
pulse, at  once  frustrates  its  own  aim. 

*  Fenelon  depicts  this  "  modest  pride,"  in  phrases  which  would 
suffer  by  translation. — "  II  se  mire  avec  complaisance  dans  son 
desinteressement,  comme  une  belle  femme  dans  son  miroir :  il 
s'attendrit  sur  soi-meme,  en  se  voyant  plus  sincere  et  plus  des- 
interesse  que  le  reste  des  hommes :  I'illusion  qu'il  repand  sur  les 
autres  rejaillit  sur  lui ;  il  ne  se  donne  aux  autrcs  que  pour  ce  qu'il 
croit  etre,  c'est-a-dirc,  pour  desinteress^ ;  et  voila  ce  qui  le  flatte  le 
plus."— CEuvr.  Spirit,  i.  139. 


IV.  SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  89 

And  yet,  not  the  less,  is  it  fit  and  requisite  to 
examine,  retrospectively,  what  have  been  the  fruits 
of  faith  and  love,  as  the  proper  and  indispensable 
marks  of  the  genuineness  of  those  graces  :  which, 
be  it  observed,  is  quite  a  different  thing  from  making 
it  our  direct  aim,  prospectively,  to  perform  good 
works  in  order  to  acquire  such  marks,  and  because 
they  will  be  needful  to  our  comfort.  You  would 
not  therefore  be  warranted  in  imagining,  that  while 
you  feel  it  a  duty,  and  sometimes  a  consolation,  to 
examine  past  obedience  as  an  evidence  of  faith,  this 
at  all  implies  that  such  obedience  was  designed 
and  fulfilled  for  the  sake  of,  or  with  a  view  to  its 
constructing,  such  evidence. 

The  "  prodigal  son,"  welcomed  with  an  unex- 
pected and  overpowering  effusion  of  paternal  kind- 
ness, was  bound  unreservedly  to  trust  in  that  cor- 
dial reconcilement  and  that  free  forgiveness  :  and 
then,  on  account  of  such  exceeding  kindness,  as 
well  as  of  his  parent's  general  worth,  to  love  him 
more  abundantly,  and  in  all  things  obey  him  from 
the  dictate  of  love,  with  a  heartfelt  and  disinterest- 
ed promptitude  :  it  would  also  be  very  important 
to  his  real  comfort  to  be  satisfied  of  this,  by  a  fre- 
quent review  both  of  his  habitual  conduct  and  the 
spirit  of  that  conduct ; — to  ascertain  or  find  proof 
that  he  was  no  longer  in  his  heart  an  alien  or  an 
ingrate.  But  it  would  be  wrong  that  he  should 
entertain  in  his  purposes  or  acts  of  filial  duty,  any 
I  3 


90  FEARS    FROM  IV. 

direct  or  primary  view  to  this  proof ;  that  he  should 
be  aiming  to  obey  with  promptitude  or  exactness, 
just ybr  the  sake  of  obtaining  such  an  argument  and 
such  a  satisfaction. 

Indeed,  it  is  obvious,  as  was  before  remarked, 
that  if  such  were  the  governing  and  conscious  mo- 
tive, it  must  necessarily  defeat  itself ;  it  would  pre- 
clude the  very  evidence  which  it  laboured  to  create  : 
showing  that  the  obedience  was  not  properly  filial ; 
not,  in  so  far,  the  result  of  love,  but  of  an  anxiety 
to  construct  proofs  of  love,  which,  if  they  were  all, 
would  at  last  be  counterfeit  intimations  of  a  love 
that  was  really  wanting. 

Yet,  not  the  less,  let  me  repeat,  would  it  behove 
this  repenting  and  accepted  son  to  review  his  tem- 
pers, words,  and  acts,  and  inquire  if  they  had  been 
prevailingly  such  as  filial  love  should  prompt,  in 
order  to  be  assured  that  he  has  truly  loved  his  ge- 
nerous and  indulgent  father,  and  to  enjoy,  as  far  as 
it  extends,  the  legitimate  comfort  of  that  persuasion. 
It  would  not  be  safe  that  he  should  omit  this  self- 
review,  except  at  seasons  when  the  practical  im- 
pulses and  recent  results  of  his  affection  and  gra- 
titude have  been  so  strong  and  indubitable  as  to 
evince  themselves  at  once,  and  thus  to  supersede 
it.  When  they  have  been  recently  otherwise,  when 
the  marks  of  filial  attachment  have  been  feeble  and 
dubious,  when  there  have  been  wanderings  of  un- 
duteous  disaffection,  then  is  the  liumhling  retrospect 


IV.  SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  91 

painfully  needed.  Then  must  it  awaken  him  to 
muse  intently  on  all  the  motives  of  devoted  love, 
to  recall  his  previous  demerits,  his  father's  sacrifices 
and  gifts  and  relentings,  his  own  subsequent  un- 
thankfulness  :  to  move,  therefore,  the  distressing 
question,  whether,  while  met  by  all  the  tenderness 
of  that  reconciled  parent,  he  has  yet  been  truly,  on 
his  own  part,  a  reconciled  child  ;  to  admire  the 
long-enduring  kindness  which  has  not  cast  him  off 
for  his  coldness  and  ingratitude,  but  still  waits  to 
take  him  to  its  warm  embrace  : — till,  while  thus 
musing,  the  mingled  sparks  of  shame  and  love, 
astonishment  and  contrition,  be  struck  within  his 
alienated  heart,  and  his  spirit  be  quite  melted  into 
the  flow  and  channel  of  loving  dutifulness  anew. 

Meanwhile,  I  am  not  aware  that  he  would  then 
be  censurable,  or  that  the  filial  genuineness  of  his 
affection  and  obedience,  in  these  best  and  happiest 
moments,  would  be  vitiated  or  alloyed — if  he  were 
gratified  and  animated  by  the  secondary  and  con- 
curring thought,  that  his  present  temper  and  acts 
might  be  afterwards  reviewed  with  comfort,  as  in- 
dications of  grateful  and  unfeigned  attachment — 
whereas  a  differing  course  would  assuredly  bring 
upon  him,  as  it  had  already  often  brought,  painful 
self-reproach,  and  just  self-suspicion. 

You  will  see  how  this  representation  applies,  in  a 

J'ar  higher  and  more  affecting  sense,  to  the  relation 

of  a  repenting  offender  towards  his  '*  Father  who  is 

in   heaven."     In  such  a  mind,  not  only  will  the 


92  FEARS    FROM 


IV. 


spirit  of  pride  and  legality,  the  delusions  of  self- 
sufficiency,  and  the  least  indulgence  of  hopes  built 
on  merit,  be  resisted  and  condemned  ;  but  moreover 
that  deeper  subtlety  which  has  last  been  noticed,  of 
performing  duties  for  the  sake  of  earning  or  pur- 
chasing  supplies   of    evidence   and    comfort,   will, 
whenever  it  really  betrays  itself,  be  repressed  and 
disallowed.    Yet  not  the  less  will  there  be  cherished 
a  habit  of  self-scrutiny  ;  a  retrospect  which  at  times 
will  yield  some  measure  of  blameless  comfort  and 
encouragement,  but  can  never  be  allowed  to  foster 
pride  :  which  also   must  ever  give  cause  for  new 
and  often  deep  contrition,  but  certainly  never  should 
induce  despair.     Let  this   examination,  also,  whe- 
ther of  past  or  present  motives,  be  faithful  and  im- 
partial, but  not  scrupulous  and   adverse.     Aim  at 
the  strict  yet  candid  fidelity  of  a  judge,  not  the 
jealous  ingenuity  and  harsh  unfair  constructions  of 
a  hostile  advocate.    It  is  not,  I  apprehend,  possible  in 
fact,  nor  requisite  as  duty,  that  with  all  our   past 
experience  of  those  diverse  and  just  effects  which 
conduct  has  produced  on  feeling,  we  should  entirely 
exclude  or  suppress  an  indirect  and  secondary  re- 
gard, even  prospectively,   to   the   accession  of  evi- 
dences and  comforts  which  obedience  will  procure, 
and  to  that  want  of  these  which  must  ensue  from 
transgression  or  remissness  ;  but  it  would  bean  un- 
justifiable self- tormenting  refinement  hence  to  con- 
clude, that  evidences  and  comforts  are  our  primary 
and  7)iercenary  aim. 


IV.  SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  93 

Let  US  pray  more  and  watch  more  for  the  sim- 
plicity and  energy  of  filial  love,  that  it  may  attain 
a  more  decisive  and  conscious  mastery  in  the  heart ; 
but  not  be  dejected  meanwhile  by  the  existence  and 
concurrence  of  other  motives.  Some  of  these  are 
legitimate,  in  their  due  place  and  order.  Others 
are  to  be  checked  and  extirpated  by  diligence,  but 
not  by  despair.  The  husbandman  will  never  destroy 
the  weeds  by  hopelessly  imagining  that  there  is  no 
wheat  in  the  blade. 

Perhaps,  also,  to  one  possessing  your  mental 
habits,  this  advice  of  Fenelon  may  be  not  always  in- 
appropriate : — "  He  who"  (in  common  life)  "  would 
at  every  instant  convince  himself  that  he  was  acting 
from  the  dictate  of  reason,  and  not  of  passion  or  in- 
clination, would  lose  the  time  of  action,  would,  pass 
his  life  in  anatomizing  his  heart,  and  yet  never  as- 
certain that  which  he  sought :  for  he  could  never 
fully  assure  himself  that  inclination,  disguised  under 
some  specious  pretext,  did  not  cause  him  to  do  that 
which  might  seem  to  be  dictated  by  pure  reason. 
In  this  obscurity  God  places  us,  even  as  to  the  mo- 
tives of  ordinary  life.  How  much  more  inevitable 
is  it  to  fall  short  of  clearness  and  certainty,  when 
we  inquire  into  the  most  hidden  operations  of  grace, 
in  the  darkness  of  faith,  and  in  reference  to  what 
is  spiritual !  This  restless  and  determined  research 
after  an  impossible  certainty,  is  a  movement  of 
ijlature,  not  of  grace.  It  is  strengthened  by  the 
plausible   plea   of  ^  holy   fear,'    of  '  watching,'    of 


94  FEARS    FROM    SCRUTINY    OF    MOTIVES.  IV. 

guarding  against  illusion.  But  evangelical  vigil- 
ance ought  not  to  be  carried  to  such  a  point  as  to 
destroy  the  peace  of  the  heart,  or  to  demand  a  clear 
view  of  those  obscure  operations  which  it  has  pleased 
God  to  veil. "^ 

*   CEuv.  Spir.  iii.  425,  abridged. 


ON  THE  PAINFUL  DOUBTS  EXCITED  BY  THE  PREVA- 
LENCE OF  EVIL  AND  SUFFERING  IN  THE  WORLD. 

You  encounter,  in  the  daily  walks  of  life,  unnum- 
bered moral  mysteries  ;  and  can  subscribe,  perhaps, 
to  the  pointed  remark  of  Mr.  Cecil — "  A  reflecting 
Christian  sees  more  to  excite  his  astonishment,  and 
to  exercise  his  faith,  in  the  state  of  things  between 
Temple  Bar  and  St.  Paul's,  than  in  what  he  reads 
from  Genesis  to  Revelation  ;" — a  fact,  which,  while 
it  strikingly  exposes  the  folly  of  rejecting,  on  ac- 
count of  difficulties,  the  light  of  Scripture,  shows 
also  how  much  we  need  that  light  amidst  the  pain- 
ful phenomena  of  our  earthly  condition.  You  are 
so  constituted  as  to  have  a  quick  perception  and 
susceptibility  of  these  :  and  while  minds  not  dis- 
cursive, not  prompt  in  associations,  engrossed  by 
one  object,  or  observing  few,  see  and  hear  and 
road  of  the  same  occurrences  without  inference  or 


96        DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

questioning,  you  find  this,  at  many  periods,  quite 
impossible.  You  are  tempted  at  once  to  envy  and 
contemn  that  apathy  or  dulness  which  travels  on  be- 
tween the  hedgerows  of  habit,  and  sees  an  insect 
long  struggling  in  the  fangs  of  its  enemy,  as  it  sees 
a  blossom  fall,  or  a  chrysalis  disengage  itself ;  while 
to  your  own  mind  the  wide-spread  influence  and 
reign  of  evil  are  suggested  afresh  at  the  minutest 
point  of  its  display.  Each  fraction  and  each  aspect 
of  it  is  a  new  proposal  of  the  one  distressing  mys- 
tery ;  and,  as  that  which  is  near  and  visible  strikes 
us  with  peculiar  force,  it  may  be  that  to  look  on  a 
toiling  animal  starved  and  lacerated  by  its  barbarous 
master,  or  an  unconscious  infant  cradled  in  the  hor- 
rors of  vice  and  destitution,  has  affected  you  even 
more  than  the  cells  and  screws  of  inquisitors,  or  the 
persecutions  in  Japan,  or  the  stripes  which  zealous 
assertors  of  freedom  in  Carolina  still  inflict  on  their 
defenceless  slaves. 

You  want  a  general  antidote  for  the  sceptical  and 
perturbing  thoughts,  which  you  know  to  be  widely 
at  variance  with  revealed  truth,  but  which  observ- 
ation and  books  and  converse  too  strongly  re- 
awaken ;  tempting  the  dark  suspicion  that  creation 
is,  at  certain  points,  neglected  by  its  Author,  or  con- 
signed to  the  operation  of  laws  in  which  evil  must 
profusely  and  interminably  mingle.  It  is  true,  as 
will  be  afterwards  shown,  that  nothing  short  of  re- 
velation, in  its  last  and  full  completeness,  is  our 
"  rock"  and  citadel,  our  "strong  tower"  of  defence, 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  97 

against  such  invading  suggestions :  but  there  are 
fundamental  truths,  which  even  natural  reason  can- 
not discard,  and  which  revelation  amply  discloses, 
that  must  form  the  very  basis  of  our  standing  place 
for  resistance  and  repose.  —  First,  in  a  universe 
which  is  immense,  having  an  Author  and  Preserver 
who  is  infinite,  what  can  we,  his  workmanship, 
rationally  expect  to  know,  except  what  He  teaches 
or  permits  ?  Secondly,  by  an  omnipotent  agent, 
with  a  boundless  extent  and  duration  in  his  works, 
what  may  we  not  expect  to  see  vindicated,  rectified, 
or  compensated  ? — These  are  commonplaces  of  theo- 
logy ;  but  they  are  habitually  uttered  and  received, 
I  suspect,  with  a  very  slight  and  contracted  amount 
of  meaning.  A  part  of  their  very  purport,  indeed, 
if  I  may  hazard  the  paradox,  is  to  state  how  im- 
perfectly they  can  be  themselves  understood,  while 
they  would  express  the  inability  of  all  creatures, 
even  the  most  exalted,  to  comprehend  the  Divine 
greatness. 

One  might  imagine,  on  the  first  view  of  this  sub- 
ject, that  the  lowest  order  of  rational  beings  would 
be  most  sensible  of  that  inability.  But  analogy  and 
experience  correct  such  an  opinion,  and  lead  us  to 
conclude  that  higher  beings  have  a  far  more  extend- 
ed and  satisfying  apprehension  of  the  infinitude  and 
omnipotence  of  Deity,  and  a  proportionate  sense  of 
their  own  limitation  and  weakness,  which  are  cor- 
relative to  these.  The  marmot  of  the  Alps,  or  the 
lizard  baskino:  in  the  crevice  of  a  rock,  must  have 


98        DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

much  narrower  views  of  extension  and  altitude  than 
the  chamois,  giraffe,  or  ostrich.  A  traveller  in  the 
defiles  of  the  loftiest  mountains  sees  nothing  but 
their  base,  nor  can  he  perceive  their  magnitude  and 
his  diminutive  power  to  scale  them,  till  he  labori- 
ously reach  some  neighbouring  elevation.  If  it  be 
thus  in  reference  to  objects  which,  in  comparison 
with  the  distances  of  the  nearest  worlds,  are  but  as 
atoms,  then  consider  what  a  point  of  view  and  ca- 
pacity of  vision  would  be  needed,  in  order  to  gain  a 
like  impression  of  the  scale  of  some  other  works 
of  God.  What  actual  impression  have  we  of  the 
vastness  of  a  planet  ?  If  we  could  so  approach  it, 
that,  although  still  distant,  it  should  conceal  very 
many  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  itself  half  fill  the  celes- 
tial hemisphere,  and  present  to  us  the  amazing  pros- 
pect of  a  mighty  moving  world,  with  its  bright 
rivers  and  blue  oceans,  its  sun-crowned  mountains 
and  dark  forests — how  different  would  be  our  mea- 
surement of  our  own  littleness,  of  the  immensity  of 
that  universe  in  which  this  huge  globe  was  seen  lately 
but  as  a  petty  star,  and  of  the  infinitude  of  Him 
who  governs  it ! 

Thus  beings  of  larger  capacities  have,  I  doubt 
not,  a  much  sublimer  and  stronger  impression  (even 
apart  from  any  sensible  discoveries  of  his  personal 
glory)  concerning  the  natural  attributes  of  their 
Creator.  It  is  probable  that  they  also  possess  the 
power  of  immensely  diversifying  and  endlessly  re- 
vivifying this  impression,  by  new  and  widely  differ- 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  99 

ent  aspects  of  the  Divine  works.  With  unlimited 
means  of  locomotion,  with  a  perfect  faculty  and 
reach  of  telescopic  vision  and  microscopic  inspection, 
how  inconceivably  may  these  be  varied ! 

We,  meantime,  in  the  present  state,  are  so  far 
from  holding^'a  station  of  "  vantage,"  that  we  oc- 
cupy the  lowest  point  of  developed  reason  ;  a  reason 
also  blunted  and  enervated  by  moral  degradation. 
The  wonder  is,  that  man,  thus  situated,  should  so 
arduously  investigate  and  should  have  learned  so 
much  ;  not,  surely,  that  perplexing  doubts  and  nar- 
row conceptions  should  still  remain  "  the  lot  of  his 
inheritance."  When  it  shall  please  God  to  eman- 
cipate him  into  intellectual  eminence  and  moral 
perfection,  how  much  more  widely  will  he  expati- 
ate ;  how  much  more  experimentally  confide  ;  with 
what  new  reverence  estimate  the  Divine  power  and 
grandeur  ! — But  it  is  a  part  of  duty  and  happiness, 
— in  order  to  combat  doubt  and  confirm  adoring  re- 
liance— that  we  should  labour  for  a  broader,  deeper 
view  of  these  attributes  even  here. 

We  fancy  that  we  understand  the  proposition — 
God  is  irtjinite ;  and  that  from  this  truth  we  infer 
his  unsearchableness.  But  do  we  not  in  reality 
rather  infer  it,  only  from  the  slight  and  vague  no- 
tion that  God  is  very  great ;  an  idea  not  merely  be- 
low the  incomprehensible  truth,  but  which  does  not 
at  all  suffice  for  impression  ?  The  opinion  has  been 
intimated  by  a  distinguished  writer,  that  those  con- 
ceptions which  most  human  worshippers  form  of 
K  2 


100      DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

the  Deity,  do  not  at  all  equal  the  real  attributes  of 
some  created  natures.  I  believe  that  opinion  to  be 
indubitably  well-grounded,  at  least  in  the  following 
sense — that  if  such  conceptions  as  we  may  reason- 
ably form  of  an  exalted  creature  be  studiously  ana- 
lysed, they  will  then  become  much  more  impressive 
than  is  our  habitual  thought  of  God,  while  that 
thought  remains  undeveloped. 

Comprehensive  terms  for  great  objects,  (at  least 
as  far  as  I  am  conscious  to  the  mode  of  their  recep- 
tion and  use,)  seem  little  more  than  substituted 
7iames ;  mere  symbols  for  the  unknown.  As  in  al- 
gebra one  letter  may  stand  for  some  vast  quantity, 
so  the  syllables  of  the  word  infinite,  or  the  ciphers 
or  words  which  accurately  state  an  immense  num- 
ber or  measure,  are  rather  a  sign  instead  of  the  idea, 
than  any  effective  expression  of  it.  Thus  when  the 
painful  statement  is  made,  that  there  are  five  hun- 
dred millions  of  idolaters  and  Mohammedans  in  the 
bondage  of  error,  this  total  is  too  great  for  our 
minds  at  once  to  apprehend.  Till  it  be  some  way 
developed,  it  conveys  nothing  expanded  or  distinct, 
but  rather  one  vague  apprehension  of  a  vast  whole. 
It  is  little  more  than  the  algebraic  letter  which  de- 
notes an  unknown  quantity.  It  stands  for  a  mul- 
titude, I  might  rather  say  a  mass,  indefinitely  and 
obscurely  great.  We  may  be  the  more  sensible  of 
this  if  we  attempt  some  method  for  its  developement, 
however  imperfect. 

Imagine  that  the  "  angel"  whom  John  beheld  in 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  101 

vision  "  flying  through  mid -heaven,"  having  "  the 
everlasting  gospel  to  proclaim,"  were  charged  to 
announce  the  "  glad  tidings"  to  each  individual  of 
those  contemporary  millions  personally  and  apart  ; 
that  he  should  devote  to  this  office  unremittingly 
the  moments  of  each  hour,  and  should  use  but  a 
single  minute  in  declaring  to  each  wondering  lis- 
tener, severally,  that  sacred  message.  Would  the 
mere  thought  or  utterance  of  the  total  (five  hundred 
millions  of  mankind)  suggest  anything  like  this  fact, 
or  at  all  prepare  you  for  it — that  ninety  years  ^ov\di 
scarcely  suffice  for  fulfilling  a  tenth  part  of  that  swift, 
unwearied  task  ? — that  in  order  to  its  completion,  the 
lives  of  that  race  must  be  extended  as  in  the  world 
before  the  flood,  and  even  then  a  period  of  nine 
whole  centuries  be  occupied,  without  an  instant's  in- 
termission, in  uttering  those  compendious  errands 
of  God's  good-will  to  man  ?  * 

Such  totals,  therefore,  although  exceedingly  li- 
mited in  comparison  with  many  others,  we  cannot, 
as  totals,  so  far  as  I  may  judge  from  the  incapacity 
of  my  own  mind,  intelligently  contemplate.  How 
much  more  then,  when  we  say  or  hear — the  Divine 
Wisdom  and  Power  are  infinite — is  this  idea  un- 
explored, unpursued,  even  partially,  (for  I  need  not 
observe  that  it  cannot  possibly  be  comprehended^ 

*  What  a  comment  on  our  Saviour's  statement  and  injunction, 
"  The  harvest  truly  is  plenteous,  but  the  labourers  are  few. — Pray 
ye  therefore  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that  he  would  send  forth 
labourers  into  his  harvest !" 

K    3 


102       DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

unless  we  attempt  some  developement  of  a  part — 
an  infinitely  small  part  it  needs  must  be — of  that 
infinitude!  That  infinitude  is  itself  the  totals  the 
boundless  integral,  of  which  all  number,  distance, 
power,  magnitude,  intellect,  are  fractions :  nay, 
fractions  infinitely  small ;  (such  must  be  the  myste- 
rious fact ;)  although  some  of  them  relatively  to 
others  are  so  immeasurably  great. 

Take,  then,  one  of  these  fractions  of  intellect ;  if 
the  term  may  be  allowed.  Suppose  a  created  intel- 
ligence to  preside  over  one  race  of  creatures  in  a 
planet  of  some  other  system  ;  a  region  peopled  with 
living  tribes  as  various  and  as  numerous  as  those  of 
our  own  world.  We  will  not  imagine  him  endued 
with  any  knowledge  of  the  thoughts,  or  influence 
on  the  actions,  of  its  rational  inhabitants ;  but 
charged  only  to  regulate  the  instincts  and  acts  of 
its  birds  or  insects.  When  we  think  of  either  class, 
and  its  wonderful  peculiarities — the  architecture  of 
both  —  the  migrations,  and  refined  diversities  of 
song,  among  the  former,  or  the  arts,  polities,  and 
transformations  of  the  latter — and  the  task  of  pre- 
serving these  undisturbed  from  age  to  age  in  each 
individual  of  each  species — it  will  be  felt  that  a 
being  so  qualified  and  commissioned,  would  be  a 
"  watcher,"  or  "  ruler  over  many,"  to  an  extent 
that  bafiles  the  human  mind.  Let  it  not  be  thought, 
however,  that  to  imagine  the  possibility  of  a  crea- 
ture's competence  to  this,  or  some  equally  extensive 
sphere  of  knowledge  and  of  vigilance,  is  utterly  ex- 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  103 

travagant.  Would  a  child,  or  a  New-Zealander,  or 
even  an  English  peasant,  although  of  the  astrono- 
mer's own  race,  believe,  if  you  could  intelligibly  in- 
dicate it  to  him,  the  knowledge  of  Herschel  1  Why 
may  there  not  be  beings  of  other  races,  to  whom 
the  wide  and  prompt  combinations  of  Napoleon, 
the  recondite  calculations  of  La  Place,  and  the 
prophetic  forecasts  of  Bacon,  (supposing  these  to 
meet  in  the  same  mind,)  appear  but  elementary  ef- 
forts, leading  to  results,  which,  for  themselves, 
would  be  intuitive  ;  and  who  no  more  wonder  at 
the  incredulity  of  some  gifted  mortals  respecting 
their  higher  range  of  intellect,  than  we  at  the  scep- 
ticism of  a  ploughboy  or  Hottentot  when  we  tell  him 
of  our  measuring  the  moon,  or  calculating  the  lon- 
gitude ?  It  appears  to  me  not  doubtful,  that  there 
are  such  incomparably  superior  intelligences  ;  when 
we  consider  that  man,  in  his  present  state,  seems  to 
occupy  the  lowest  grade  of  rational  existence.  Dr. 
Barrow  observes,  "  Beneath  omniscience  there  being 
innumerable  forms  of  intelligence,  in  the  lowest  of 
these  we  sit,  one  remove  from  beasts."  *  If  so,  there 
could  be  no  extravagance  in  supposing  created  minds 
of  the  loftiest  order  to  have  capacities  and  offices  far 
more  extended  than  the  being  whom  I  have  im- 
agined. Yet  what  conception  have  we  of  the  prompti- 
tude and  ubiquity  even  of  that  ruler  of  one  minor 
department   in  one   secondary  orb  ?      And  if  this 

*  Works,  vol.  iii.  p.  258. 


104       DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

confound  us,  what  do  we  expect  to  conceive  of  the  at- 
tributes and  reign  of  Him  whose  "  understanding  is 
infinite !  "  What  could  the  frogs  or  flies  of  Egypt 
be  supposed  to  know  of  the  faculties  of  that  prophet 
who  was  made  the  instrument  of  their  miraculous 
formation  ?  If  they  had  been  produced  in  the  great 
desert,  what  would  they  have  known  of  his  legisla- 
tive code  or  judicial  decisions,  his  visions  in  the 
solitude  of  Horeb,  or  within  the  cloud  of  Sinai  ? 
Yet  from  the  reptile  to  the  inspired  lawgiver  is  but 
a  finite  interval,  and  therefore,  in  comparison  of 
that  between  the  creature  and  the  infinite  Creator, 
incalculably  small.  This  may  strike  some  Christian 
minds  as  a  monstrous  and  false  analogy  ;  inasmuch 
as  the  difference  between  a  mean  creature,  which 
they  may  suppose  to  have  no  immaterial  principle, 
and  a  human  being,  whose  essence  is  spiritual  and 
immortal,  will  appear  to  them  a  difference  not  of 
gradation  but  of  kind  ;  a  great  chasm  of  dissimili- 
tude intervening,  such  as  they  conceive  to  be  no- 
where found  within  that  scale  of  intelligent  and 
spiritual  natures  which  terminates  in  the  Supreme. 
Without  inquiring  whether  they  do  not  err  in  the 
first  supposition,  I  would  observe  that  the  second 
betrays  that  very  limitation  of  ideas  respecting  the 
Infinite  First  Cause,  which  we  ought  to  combat ;  as 
if  because  the  words  "spirit,"  "mind,"  "intelli- 
gence," are  applied  in  common  to  the  created  and 
the  Creator,  there  were  not  a  more  absolute  chasm 
between  the  Mind  that  creates  and  the  mind  which 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  105 

is  created,  than  between  the  fabric  of  the  potter 
and  the  fabric  of  his  clay  ;  the  life  of  the  insect  and 
the  life  of  the  prophet. 

There  may,  indeed,  be  decisive  and  summary 
thinkers,  who  ask  and  gain  no  help  from  circuitous 
illustration,  but  under  the  pressure  of  doubt  will 
resort  to  this  ons-^  thought — He  that  is  unsearchable, 
whose  ways  I  anxiously  ponder,  alone  sustains  these 
powers  hy  which  I  doubt.  It  is  only  by  his  strength 
that  it  has  become  or  continues  possible  for  me  to 
question  that  of  which  "  He  giveth  not  account." 
How  intrinsically  absurd  and  presumptuous  to  be  in 
these  circumstances  captious  or  distrustful,  when, 
except  for  his  own  upholding  hand,  I  could  not,  dur- 
ing another  instant,  conceive  of  his  existence,  much 
less  descry  or  criticise  his  secret  purpose  ! 

There  may  be  also  those,  who  rise,  at  a  glance, 
far  above  that  mystic  ladder  which  the  patriarch 
saw,  and  have  no  need  to  measure,  as  we  have  now 
attempted,  some  lower  steps  of  ascending  and  de- 
scending existence,  in  order  better  to  apprehend 
the  inaccessible  grandeur  of  "  the  lofty  One  that 
inhabiteth  eternity."  I  can  conceive  (and  almost 
covet)  such  a  comparatively  prompt  and  powerful 
grasp  of  the  human  intellect ;  particularly  where 
it  has  been  exercised  in  the  very  highest  sphere 
of  astronomic  science.  Still,  for  most  minds,  any 
mode  of  additional  developement  for  what  is  so  in- 
adequately impressed,  may,  I  hope,  be  profitable. 
It  will  be  so,  however,  if  at  all,  chiefiy  for  the  sake 


106       DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

of  ulterior  consequences  from  these  views.  For 
there  is  nothing  beneficial  or  consolatory  in  merely 
strengthening  the  conviction  how  unspeakably  little 
we  can  expect  to  know — except  it  be  linked  with  a 
proportionate  persuasion  how  unspeakably  much  we 
may  and  must  expect  the  Cause  and  Lord  of  all 
things  both  to  know  and  do.  Scepticism  surrounds 
herself  with  the  darkness  of  the  former  thought,  and 
aims  from  thence  her  contemptuous  assaults  on 
faith  ;  but  right  reason,  sustained  by  revelation,  ad- 
vances to  the  second,  and  affirms  that  of  Him  who 
is  Infinite  it  is  impossible  for  the  finite  to  expect 
enough ;  since  his  means,  and  purposes,  and  doings, 
will,  after  all,  be  "  most  exceedingly  or  transcend- 
ently  {vTrepeiarepiaaov)  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think.^^"^  But  whatever  measure  of  this  expecta- 
tion we  happily  attain,  must  obviously  be  founded 
on  our  real  theism ;  it  can  only  be  coextensive 
with  our  "faith  in  God;"  and  from  the  weakness 
and  fluctuation  of  this  principle,  it  is  hard  for  even 
the  Christian  to  keep  to  the  blessed  elevation  of  ex- 
pecting the  infinite  ;  of  practically  holding  fast  this 
truth,  that  "  with  God  all  things  are  possible." 

This  train  of  thought,  like  most  others,  brings 
us  more  fully  to  recognise  the  great  value  of  the 
gospel.  It  is  true,  that  mere  theism,  acquired  or 
aided,  perhaps,  by  traditional  revelation,  assured 
some  heathen  sages  of  God's  infinite  knowledge  and 

*  Eph.  iii.  20. 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  107 

power.  The  creed  of  Socrates  on  these  points  was 
thus  eloquently  stated  to  Aristodemus — "  Consider, 
my  friend,  that  your  own  mind  regulates  at  will  the 
frame  in  which  it  acts.  We  ought  to  conclude, 
therefore,  that  the  intelligence  which  pervades  the 
universe,  orders  all  things  at  its  pleasure  ;  and  not 
to  imagine  that  while  your  eye  is  capable  of  reach- 
ing distant  prospects,  the  Divine  eye  is  incapable 
of  beholding  all  nature  at  one  view  ;  nor  that  while 
your  mind  can  meditate  on  affairs  and  objects  here, 
and  in  Egypt,  and  in  Sicily,  the  Divine  intelligence 
is  insufficient  to  embrace  all  things  within  its  simul- 
taneous care."* 

It  is  true,  also,  that  the  moral  attributes  of  Deity 
were,  in  some  measure,  ascertained  by  natural  in- 
dications. Conscience  ever  reiterated  the  inward 
monition,  that  there  is  somewhere  a  supreme  tri- 
bunal and  Arbiter  of  right.  The  revulsion  of  the 
mind  from  suffering,  the  sentiment  of  pity  for  an- 
other's sorrow,  and  indignation  at  another's  wrong, 
concurred  with  the  many  marks  of  benevolent  con- 
trivance throughout  nature,  to  intimate  that  Bene- 
volence presides.  Still  were  ten  thousand  adverse 
appearances  ever  warring  on  this  happy  thought. 
It  was  not  even  for  him  of  whom  Athens  ''  was  not 
worthy,"  to  evince  conclusively  to  others  or  him- 
self, amidst  all  those  dark  anomalies,  that  the  Being 
of  infinite  knowledge  and  power,  is  infinite  likewise 

*  Xenoph.  Memorab.  1.  i.  c.  17.  p.  61. 


108       DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE        V. 

in  rectitude  and  goodness.  This  was  for  Him 
only  to  demonstrate,  who  had  already  declared  to 
his  separated  worshippers,  "I  am  Jehovah,  who 
exercise  loving-kindness,  judgment,  and  righteous- 
ness in  the  earth  :  for  in  these  things  I  delight : " 
and  who,  after  variously  proclaiming  this  in  records 
that  hear  the  stamps  and  seals  of  his  own  pre- 
science, hath  since  confirmed  it  by  the  mystery  of 
"  loving-kindness "  which  those  records  foretold, 
certifying  the  universe  by  one  "  unspeakable  gift," 
that 

"  His  love  is  as  large  as  his  power  ; 

And  neither  knows  measure  nor  end." 

Then,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  "  the  goodness 
and  philanthropy  of  our  Saviour  God  shone  forth  ;  "* 
and  it  has  ever  since  been  to  believers,  the  regent 
phenomenon  of  our  world  ;  by  whose  stupendous 
yet  benignant  light  they  preconceive  and  expect 
that  flood  of  brightness  which  must  at  length  be  cast 
on  all  the  gloom  ;  waiting  the  while  with  an  assured 
submissive  persuasion  that  "  He  doth  all  things 
well."  It  is  very  observable,  as  an  implication 
which  may  raise  our  gratitude  and  hope,  that  when 
He  who  is  One  with  the  Father,  refers  (in  words  al- 
ready quoted)  to  Divine  omnipotence,  he  does  so  ex- 
pressly and  solely  under  this  delightful  aspect.  It 
was  in  answer  to  the  query,  "  Who  then  can  be 
saved  ?  "  that  our  Saviour  spoke  those  memorable 

*  Tit.  iii.  4,  literal  version. 


V,  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  109 

words,  *'  with  men  it  is  impossible,  but  not  with 
God,  for  with  God  all  things  are  possible  :"  *  inti- 
mating that  this  almightiness,  which  triumphs  glo- 
riously over  what  we  deem  impossibilities,  will  be 
specially  exercised  in  subordination  to  Divine  love ; 
power  being  the  infinite  means,  but  love  the  infinite 
principle — and  universal  good,  as  coincident  with 
His  own  glory,  the  boundless  purpose — of  the  Di- 
vine administration.* 

But  further,  the  character,  sufierings,  and  doom 
of  this  Saviour  himself,  if  we  believe  in  the  details 
and  estimate  the  effects  of  them,  exhibit  one  of  the 
most  startling  and  painful  mysteries  of  Providence 
that  can  be  conceived,  issuing  in  results  of  good 
which  no  human  mind  could  have  foreseen.  We 
may  as  confidently  ask — who  could  have  feigned 
those  details,t  as,  who  could  have  expected  these 
results  1  We  contemplate  (as  Rousseau  confesses 
in  the  person  of  his  sceptical  priest)  a  far  more  strik- 
ing and  revolting  scene  than  the  condemnation  of 
that  revered  philosopher  whose  words  were  lately 
cited.  We  see  one  whose  virtue  was  spotless  and 
transcendent,  execrated,  scourged,  and  impaled  with 

*  Matt.  xix.  26.     Mark  x.  27.     Luke  xviii.  27. 

f  "  One  may  venture  to  say,  that  Christianity  will  never  be  over- 
thrown by  argument,  while  such  a  character  as  that  of  our  Saviour, 
and  so  supported,  lieth  open  to  the  ingenuous  and  impartial.  How 
came  we  to  have  it  here  ?  is  a  question,  to  which  a  person,  who  doth 
not  believe  in  Christianity,  will  never  be  able  to  give  a  substantial 
answer."     Duchal,  Presumptive  Arguments,  p.  106. 

L 


110       DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE         V. 

the  vilest  criminals,  and  all  demoniacal  passions 
exulting  in  his  fall  ;  and  yet  from  this  cruel  mystery 
of  injustice  we  behold  suddenly  springing  up,  and 
after  the  lapse  of  many  centuries  still  spreading 
through  the  world,  harvests  of  civilization,  purity, 
and  hope.  The  more  deeply  we  explore  its  tend- 
encies and  consequences,  the  more  is  this  atrocity  of 
"  wicked  hands  "found  to  be  made  "  the  power  of 
God  unto  salvation  ;"  but  to  measure  the  full  scope 
of  those  consequences,  we  must  wait  till  "  principal- 
ities and  powers  in  heavenly  places,"  assist  us  to 
appreciate  that  "  manifold  wisdom,"  which,  in  their 
view,  it  illustrates. 

After  thus  beholding  a  display  of  unparalleled 
evil,  producing  an  unfathomed  predominance  of 
good,  with  what  relieved  and  reassured  feelings 
ought  we  not  to  meet  those  successive  mysteries  of 
sin  or  suffering  which  still  cross  our  path,  or  exist 
in  the  world  around  us  !  Are  we  justified  in  doubt- 
ing whether  that  Being  can  or  will  educe  preponder- 
ating good  out  of  all  these,  whom  we  know  to  have 
brought  incalculable  and  still  progressive  good  out 
of  a  scene  of  iniquity  and  agony  more  awful  than 
any  ?  Of  these,  it  is  true,  we  witness  some,  and  of 
some  we  read  or  hear  in  all  their  recency,  and  in 
all  their  detailed  novelty  of  horrors  ;  and  they  may 
sometimes  seem  by  their  extent,  or  repetition,  or 
multiplicity,  or  even  minuteness,  to  acquire  a  more 
inexplicable  character,  than  belonged  to  the  death  of 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  Ill 

Jesus  ;  but  suppose  that  (instead  of  reading  the  Gos- 
pels as  a  long-familiarized  narrative)  we  had  been 
spectators  after  the  paschal  supper  ;  and  in  the 
prgetorium  of  Pilate ;  and  had  stood  around  the 
cross  ;  and  had  then  been  the  disconsolate  com- 
panions of  those  who  walked  towards  Emmaus, 
whose  "communications"  were  so  deeply  "sad," 
and  whose  hopes  had  well  nigh  perished  ; — What 
might  we  not  have  been  tempted  to  utter  or  to  feel 
concerning  the  Divine  Providence  in  that  dark  hour? 
Yet  had  we  yielded  to  distrust,  how  immensely 
should  we  have  erred !  Do  not  the  life  and  death 
of  each  among  unnumbered  happy  Christians — a 
life,  constrained  by  the  love  of  Him  that  died — a 
death,  softened  and  blessed  by  confidence  in  Him 
who  "  ever  liveth,"  proclaim  how  great  would  have 
been  the  illusion  of  that  despair  ? 

But  if  so,  then  what  mystery  of  evil  ought  pre- 
vailingly to  agitate  or  dishearten  us  ?  What  guilt, 
what  endurance,  what  pangs  of  the  sinless,  what 
delay  of  remedy  can  we  after  this  contemplate,  and 
discard  the  cheering  hope  that  a  superior  good,  if 
not  even  now  in  secrecy  attendant,  will  finally  re- 
sult ?  When  to  prior  natural  intimations  and  re- 
vealed assurances  of  Divine  wisdom  and  goodness, 
we  add  this  concurrent  proof  from  fact,  evincing 
that  the  wisdom  and  love  of  God  can  transmute 
the  blackest  crime  into  a  source  of  blessings,  and 
elicit  the  most  glorious  hopes  from  the  profoundest 
L   2 


112  DOUBTS    FROM    THE    PREVALENCE  V. 

anguish — what  contrary  appearances  should  thence- 
forth cause  us  to  "  stagger,  through  unbelief?"  We 
may  still  have  frequent  reason  to  feel — this  is,  in- 
deed, in  my  own  weak  and  narrow  view,  a  terrible 
and  overwhelming  mystery ;  or  that,  although  of 
a  minute  character — by  many  undiscerned — and  by 
multitudes  never  thought  of  in  its  moral  aspect — 
remains  to  me  a  most  perplexing  and  insidious  fact. 
But  yet,  were  a  thousand  more  such  distressing 
enigmas  of  evil  placed  under  our  review,  it  would 
behove  us  to  conclude  with  hope  as  well  as  sub- 
mission— all  these  are  within  the  instant  solution 
and  the  curative  or  compensating  resources  of  Om- 
nipotent Beneficence  :  all  shall  co-operate  for  good 
in  his  hand  who  wields  eternity  and  immensity  to 
achieve  the  structure  of  his  own  glory  ;  who  has  re- 
vealed also  not  the  mere  vastness,  but  the  inventive- 
ness, so  to  speak,  of  his  remedial  wisdom  and  love  ; 
and  from  those  appalling,  agonizing  scenes  "  ac- 
complished at  Jerusalem,"  called  forth  the  lustre  of 
innumerable  graces,  and  the  promise  of  unfading 
joys.  When  we  think  of  what  Omnipotence  can  do, 
and  of  what  Love  has  done,  shall  we  not  feel  bound 
to  say — "  Is  there  any  thing  too  hard  for  Jehovah  ?" 
We  may  rise  higher  and  higher  towards  this  devout 
and  delightful  assurance  ;  but  after  the  most  ar- 
duous effort  of  reason,  and  the  most  solemn  aspir- 
ation of  faith,  we  must  be  conscious  that  there  are 
heights  where  it  would  be  incomparably  more  com- 


V.  OF    EVIL    AND    SUFFERING.  113 

plete ;  since  "  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the 
earth,  so  are  His  ways  higher  than  our  ways,  and 
His  thoughts  than  our  thoughts." 

It  is  not  at  all  to  be  doubted,  that,  even  for  the 
highest  of  created  minds,  there  must  remain  in  the 
Divine  administration  mysteries  unsolved  ;  and  that 
their  successive,  though  still  partial  solution,  must 
be  one  of  those  ever-new  satisfactions  which  the  re- 
cesses of  endless  futurity  reserve.     But  we  can  well 
conceive,  that,  after  the  first  series  of  such  solutions, 
all  distrustful  and  painful  doubt  concerning  what 
shall  remain  or  accrue  will  utterly  subside,  and  be 
converted  into  a  tranquil,  and  unhesitating,  though 
still   astonished   faith.      Thus,  in  the  present  life, 
after  having  studied  some  dark  predictions  of  Daniel 
or  Isaiah,  and  found  them  marvellously  and  unde- 
niably fulfilled,  we  are  prepared  to  await,  with  far 
more  confidence,  the  fulfilment  of  other  prophecies, 
which  may  still   remain    in   unrelieved    obscurity. 
Thus  also  the  experience  of  memorable  difficulties 
and  singular  extrications,  in  our  own  personal  course, 
has  often  a  measure  of  like  salutary  influence. 

But  when  we  shall  pass  into  a  second  state  of  be- 
ing, and  shall  find  many,  perhaps  all,  the  mysteries 
which  distressed  us  here,  scattered  by  the  first  day- 
break of  another  region,  then  must  we,  of  necessity, 
attain  a  new  and  transporting  reliance  on  the  Infi- 
nite Revealer.  New  "  clouds  and  darkness,"  in- 
deed, awful  in  their  majesty,  may  still  be  gathering 
L    3 


114    DOUBTS  FROM  THE  PREVALENCE,  ETC.     V. 

"  round  about  his  throne  ;"  but  it  will  be  never  pos- 
sible to  forget  what  doubts  and  terrors  and  despond- 
encies were  turned  to  praises,  in  that  moment  when 
the  curtain  of  mortality  was  rent ;  and  we  shall  hail 
those  new  secrets  of  heaven  which  cannot  be  too 
vast  or  multiplied,  since  they  are  all  to  be  prolific, 
at  length,  of  new  adoration  and  delight. 


VI. 


ON   THE    DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING    IN    REVEALED 
TRUTH,  AND  IN  THE  STUDY  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


We  are  often,  it  may  be,  much  disturbed,  when 
meditating  on  revealed  truth,  and  particularly  when 
reading  the  Scriptures,  by  philosophical,  critical,  or 
moral  difficulties,  or  by  miscellaneous  objections 
and  suspicions,  which  our  minds  rather  insinuate 
in  passing,  than  distinctly  and  formally  present. 
Thus  the  very  exercises  which  have  been  justly 
commended  and  enjoined,  as  special  means  of 
growth  in  piety  and  happiness,  are  frequently  ren- 
dered to  us  an  occasion  for  conflict  and  discourage- 
ment. This  is  a  source  of  grief,  not  only  at  the 
time,  but  in  the  recollection  that  such  is  our  pro- 
pension  of  mind  ;  and  it  is  aggravated  by  observing, 
that  many  excellent  Christians  do  not  appear  to 
share  it.  We  could  indeed  view  this  with  compla- 
cency as  the  privilege  of  the  poor  and  unlearned  ; — 


116  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

that  of  having  their  speculative  difficulties  less  and 
fewer,  while  their  other  trials  may  be  more  severe. 
If  we  observe  their  happy  simplicity,  and  sometimes 
sigh  to  be  partakers  of  it,  there  is  no  contempt  in 
the  perception,  and  no  bitterness  in  the  wish.  But 
when  persons  of  finished  education,  and  enlightened 
understanding,  appear  not  only  not  to  feel,  but 
scarcely  to  discover  difficulties  ;  when,  having  no 
such  trials  to  interrupt  their  comfort  in  religious 
thought  or  scriptural  study,  they  hardly  comprehend 
or  sympathize  with  those  who  deplore  them — when 
we  even  find  something  of  this  characteristic  in  cer- 
tain expository  writers  respectable  for  learning  and 
honoured  for  devotion — we  are  apt  to  repine,  and 
sometimes  to  despond.  We  ask  ourselves,  how  it  is 
that  these  Christians  of  our  own  class  enjoy  while 
we  suffer ;  that  they  are  edified  and  animated  while 
we  are  "  shaken  in  mind  and  troubled ;"  that  they 
can  say  cordially,  "  Thy  testimonies  are  my  delight," 
while  we  have  much  more  cause  to  say,  "  Open 
Thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things 
out  of  thy  law  ;"  "  let  the  crooked  be  made  straight, 
and  the  rough  places  plain."  We  regard  the  dis- 
similar experience  of  such  persons,  sometimes  with 
discouragement  and  envy  at  their  "  un movable  " 
and  triumphant  faith,  sometimes  with  a  half-grieved, 
half-proud  (perhaps  half-complacent)  suspicion  of 
their  want  of  intellectual  sharp-sightedness  or 
strength ;  and  thus  we  vibrate  between  fear  that 
the  absence  of  a  heaven-taught  spirit  may  cause  our 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  117 

own  cavils  and  disquiets,  and  fear  (by  its  implica- 
tions yet  more  painful)  that  the  absence  of  a  keenly 
investigating  spirit  causes  their  acquiescence  and 
tranquillity.  Now,  there  may  be  something  oi  iT\x\h 
in  each  side  of  this  alternative  ;  and  yet  not  so  much 
as  should  greatly  disturb  or  distress  us.  There  are 
certainly  two  kinds  of  differences  which  may  give 
rise  to  such  a  contrast.  The  one  is  in  the  intel- 
lectual constitution  ;  the  other,  in  the  moral  temper 
and  emotions.  The  former  we  cannot  radically 
change  ;  nor,  perhaps,  though  the  change  might 
exempt  us  from  many  trials,  would  we,  if  we  could. 
The  latter,  by  Divine  help,  we  may  acquire ;  and 
in  so  doing  we  should  acquire  that,  which  being  a 
source  of  strength  and  enjoyment  in  itself,  destroys 
some  of  the  anxieties  referred  to,  and  lightens  all 
the  rest. 

In  the  intellectual  constitution  of  some  Christians, 
and  those  endowed  with  highly  useful  kinds  of 
learning  and  ability,  we  observe  what  I  must  call, 
hot  invidiously,  but  for  want  of  better  terms,  a  cer- 
tain hebetude  or  insensitiveness  with  regard  to  ob- 
jections. Embracing  warmly  and  holding  firmly 
the  most  momentous  truths,  they  are  no  way  prompt 
to  discover,  and  still  less  to  feel,  the  difficulties  con- 
tained in  the  record  which  presents  them,  or  which 
the  truths  themselves  involve.  Such  minds,  when 
truly  ^'taught  of  God,"  may  occupy  most  import- 
ant and  successful  posts  as  teachers  of  others. 
They  are  least  likely  to  be  retarded  and  perplexed 


118  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

in  the  aim  and  career  of  evangelic  zeal.  They 
may  eminently  bless,  by  a  warm  and  unhesitating 
inculcation  of  essential  truth,  those  numerous  classes 
who  possess  an  uninquiring  temperament,  or  whose 
education  has  been  not  very  enlarged,  or  in  whom 
both  these  circumstances,  by  a  joint  and  mutual  in- 
fluence, concur  to  narrow  the  sphere  of  doubt,  or 
repress  its  excursions. 

But  you,  for  whom  the  present  train  of  thought 
is  chiefly  adapted,  cannot  acquire,  if  you  would, 
such  a  mental  structure.  The  native  character  and 
bent  of  your  faculties  may  preclude  this,  even  if  no 
peculiar  course  of  discipline  has  conduced  to  awaken 
and  extend  them.  Nor,  perhaps,  (as  I  have  al- 
ready conjectured,)  would  you,  on  the  whole,  desire 
to  possess  it,  were  this  within  your  choice.  For 
you  will  suspect  that  the  mental  quality  or  defect, 
whatever  it  be,  which  tends  to  blunt  or  to  exclude 
objections,  may  tend  likewise  to  obscure  or  to  con- 
tract the  view  of  exalted  facts  or  doctrines  :  that 
the  Shechinah  of  Divine  truth,  though  steadily  and 
gratefully  contemplated  by  the  eye  of  such  a  faith, 
must  yet  be  "  shorn  of  his  beams  ;"  that  the  less 
ample  or  less  movable  glass  of  such  a  believer's 
perception,  while  it  excludes  unwelcome  objects  on 
either  hand,  circumscribes  that  broad  and  unde- 
fined glory,  "  dark  with  excessive  bright,"  which 
belongs  to  your  own  wavering  fitful  pillar  of  celes- 
tial fire.  Not  that  you  or  I  are  to  assume  a  general 
superiority  to  such  minds.     Far  from  it.    They  may 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  119 

be  less  versatile  or  inquisitive,  or  may  possess  less 
promptitude  and  less  scope,  as  it  were,  of  lateral 
vision  ;  but  withal  much  more  strength  and  clear- 
ness in  apprehending  and  defining  the  truths  on 
which  they  fix.  Neither  you  nor  they  can  think 
or  feel  each  in  the  other's  manner,  nor  did  the 
Father  of  spirits  intend  it.  It  is  true  of  natural  as 
of  supernatural  gifts,  "  there  are  diversities  of  oper- 
ations," and  the  great  Ruler  divides  "  to  each  one 
severally  as  He  will."  Your  trials  were,  in  some 
respects,  to  differ  from  theirs  :  your  services  like- 
wise, and  your  advantages,  were  not  to  be  altogether 
of  the  same  order. 

But  then  we  must  not  forget  another  class  of 
minds,  which,  permit  me  to  believe,  have  been 
unore  prepared  by  native  and  acquired  susceptibilities 
and  powers,  to  discern  and  be  afi'ected  by  difficulties 
than  either  yours  or  mine  ;  who  yet,  we  have  the 
highest  reason  to  conclude,  habitually  meditate  on 
revealed  truth,  and  pursue  the  study  of  Scripture, 
with  much  less  of  pain,  and  with  much  more  of 
spiritual  profit,  than  ourselves.  Shall  we  account 
for  this  difference  by  their  greater  capacity  and  su- 
perior vigour  in  answering  and  overcoming  objec- 
tions, which  enables  them  to  subdue  and  trample 
down  at  the  instant  each  pain  or  doubt  which  is 
awakened  ? — Certainly  not  thus  in  every  case  ;  in- 
asmuch as  there  are  some  difficulties  in  revelation 
which  710  human  mind  can  at  any  time  fully  remove  ; 
much  less  at  every  instant.     We  must  account  for 


120  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

it,  I  conceive,  principally  by  their  more  devout  and 
ardent  apprehension,  more  constant  and  energetic 
hold,  of  those  few  most  glorious  truths,  which,  while 
invested  by  many  difficulties  and  obscurities,  shine 
through  and  above  them  all.  Now  this,  as  we  have 
intimated,  is,  by  the  grace  of  God,  attainable.  Not 
the  force  and  penetration  of  intellect,  not  the  mass 
of  erudition  and  strength  of  memory,  which  were 
in  a  Pascal  or  a  Howe  ; — those  are  nowhere  pro- 
mised, and  we  have  no  ground  to  suppose  they  are 
anywhere  dispensed,  in  answer  to  prayer.  But 
that  is  attainable  (for  it  is  surely  held  forth  as  an 
object  of  the  humblest  Christian's  successful  de- 
sire) without  which  those  qualities  and  attainments 
might  have  plunged  a  Howe  or  Pascal  in  the  depths 
of  frigid  scepticism  ;  namely,  a  spiritual  and  affec- 
tionate adherence,  a  realising  and  appropriating 
attachment  to  the  great  things  which  God  hath 
declared.  This  is  the  wisdom  which  he  "  giveth 
liberally,"  and  for  which  we  are  all  taught  to  pray, 
entreating  "  that  the  God  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
the  Father  of  Glory,  may  give  unto  us  the  spirit  of 
wisdom  and  revelation  in  the  knowledge  of  Him  ;" 
that  "  the  eyes  of  our  understanding  may  be  en- 
lightened ;  that  we  may  know  what  is  the  hope  of 
his  calling,  and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his 
inheritance."  * 

Now,  let  minds  of  ever  so  great  perspicacity,  and 

*  Eph.  i.  17,  18. 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  121 

research,  and  furniture,  the  most  capable,  therefore, 
of  objections  and  resistance,  become  happily  imbued 
with  an  admiring  grateful  love  for  the  great  dis- 
coveries of  the  gospel :  let  them  come  to  meditate 
feelingly  on  a  Being  infinite  in  power  and  holiness, 
who  is  also  infinite  in  pardon  and  in  grace  ;  let  them 
fix  on  the  intense  concentration  of  these  glories  at  the 
cross  ;  and  then,  for  them,  the  difficulties  of  revela- 
tion— though  they  do  not  disappear — recede  into  their 
proper  dimness,  and  sink  into  their  just  dimension. 

This  supernatural  unveiling  of  the  Deity,  this  dis- 
closure of  his  righteousness  and  love  in  all  their 
moral  glories,  is  a  centre  ever-luminous,  glowing, 
and  expanding,  whence  the  eye  of  their  faith  can- 
not be  very  long  averted,  and  which  casts  its  rays 
even  upon  objects  otherwise  suited  to  repel  that  eye, 
yet  thus  serving  to  guide  back  its  glance  towards 
the  light  by  which  their  own  gloom  or  barrenness 
or  asperity  are  relieved. 

Would  we  then  read  the  Scriptures  with  more 
benefit  and  satisfaction  ?  We  must  seek,  not  so 
much,  more  learning,  or  more  commentators,  (al- 
though these  are  valuable  in  their  place,)  but,  by 
earnest  prayer  and  humble  vigilance,  an  increase  of 
faith,  hope,  and  love,  towards  the  great  scheme  of 
gospel  truth  ;  the  grand  remedy  of  guilt  and  un- 
happiness  and  ruin ;  for  we  may  expect,  in  propor- 
tion as  these  graces  are  awake  or  dormant,  cherish- 
ed or  declining,  to  find  scriptural  reading  a  source 
of   encouragement   and     comfort,   or   a  source    of 

M 


122  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

disappointment  and  distress.  I  do  not  know  that  the 
difference  which  it  has  been  thus  attempted  to  point 
out  admits  of  comparison  with  any  contrasts  in  the 
actual  scenes  of  nature,  or  in  the  incidents  of  secular 
life  :  but  perhaps  a  slight  apologue  in  the  eastern 
taste,  where  fiction  is  blended  with  some  scenery 
that  nature  offers,  may  contribute  not  unpleasantly 
to  its  illustration. 

In  a  century  long  "  before  the  flood,"  and  in 
regions  bordering  on  Euphrates,  the  youth  Idoriel 
had  learned  by  tradition  from  his  pious  ancestors 
the  existence  of  a  mystic  cavern,  through  which  he 
was  assured  that  he  might  arrive  at  scenes  explored 
but  rarely  since  the  Fall :  even  at  that  paradise 
which  Adam  forfeited.  His  dying  father  had 
solemnly  urged  him  to  become  a  pilgrim  thither  ; 
warning  him,  indeed,  of  the  doubtful  and  rugged 
way,  of  the  darkness  and  difficulty  which  might  at- 
tend his  entrance,  and  perhaps  long  impede  his  pro- 
gress ;  yet  still  repeating — Go,  my  son  ;  enter  and 
persevere.  Light  will  spring  up  in  darkness.  Though 
Eden  be  tenantless  and  its  groves  lie  waste,  and  the 
cherubim  have  resigned  their  needless  watch,  yet 
go  ;  for  the  very  air  of  that  once  blessed  garden,  the 
murmur  of  its  waters,  and  the  odour  of  its  silent 
woods,  will  prefigure  to  thee  that  better  country  to 
which  the  promised  Deliverer  of  our  ruined  race  will 
at  last  exalt  the  purified. — Idoriel  heard  with  tears, 
and  when  he  had  committed  to  the  tomb  his  parent's 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  123 

revered  remains,  and  the  sun  of  that  funereal  day 
was  setting,  he  earnestly  asked  himself — Can  I  de- 
fer the  pilgrimage  which  such  a  father  has  enjoin- 
ed 1  The  youth  rose  before  the  following  dawn, 
girded  himself,  and  providing  a  small  store  of  sim- 
ple viands,  journeyed  towards  the  entrance  of  the 
cave.  It  was  situate,  as  he  had  been  told  by  the 
departed,  at  the  end  of  a  sequestered  ravine  in  the 
mountains  ;  and  concealed  by  the  projection  of  a 
low-browed  rock.  When  he  had  pressed  through 
the  thorny  gorge  of  the  defile,  and  was  stooping  to 
explore  the  cavern's  mouth,  he  heard  laughter  far 
above  him.  This  came  from  the  cell  of  a  hermit- 
astronomer  on  one  of  the  cliffs  which  towered  round 
the  pass,  who,  though  dwelling  so  near  the  mystic 
cave,  had  not  approached  it,  and  would  have  sneer- 
ed in  utter  contempt  at  its  reputed  wonders.  A 
warrior  and  a  hunter  from  "  the  land  of  Havilah" 
were  visiting  this  sage,  who  laughed  scornfully  to 
see  a  goodly  youth  below,  creeping  through  bushes, 
and  groping  among  the  stones  of  the  brook.  They 
bade  him  leave  wild  berries  for  children,  and  come 
with  them  to  chase  the  lion  and  leopard.  But  he 
heeded  them  not,  and  having  at  length  discovered 
a  low  and  narrow  opening,  which  the  rocks  and 
trees  had  hidden,  he  proceeded  with  difficulty,  al- 
ways stooping,  frequently  kneeling,  and  sometimes 
even  prostrate,  into  the  interior  of  the  cavern. 
After  this  was  gained  he  found  no  want  of  space, 
though  he  was  compelled  to  bend  low  ever  and 
M   2 


124  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

anon  as  he  advanced.  The  cave  expanded  on  his 
view  ;  while  only  a  glimmering  yet  unearthly  light 
pervaded  it,  and  the  small  torch  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  burned  dimly  amidst  its  vapours. 
Vast  stalactites  hung  from  the  roof,  and  seemed  to 
carry  back  the  date  of  this  excavation  towards  the 
creation  of  the  world,  and  of  that  paradise  to  which 
he  hoped  it  would  conduct  him.  At  intervals  the 
images  of  shepherds,  priests,  and  kings,  of  sacrificial 
rites  and  holy  symbols,  were  sculptured  in  colossal 
forms  upon  the  rocky  walls.  All  along  beside  his 
path  there  was  a  deep  abyss,  on  which  the  vapours 
hung  densely,  and  which  his  eye  essayed  in  vain  to 
pierce.  At  times  the  scene  grew  not  only  rude  but 
dreary, — a  sort  of  subterranean  desert ;  at  other  times 
sharp  points  unexpectedly  wounded  his  feet :  now 
and  then  also  some  hideous  shapes  issuing  from  the 
vapour  motioned  him  to  retire  ;  and  the  toi'ch  at 
times  so  feebly  dispelled  that  darkness,  that  his 
heart  began  to  sink  and  his  patience  to  falter. — 
Alas !  (he  exclaimed,)  perhaps  my  good  and  sim- 
ple-hearted father  was  deluded.  He  thought  he  had 
attained  by  this  path  to  a  view  of  paradise,  but  I 
fear  he  must  have  erred.  He  may  have  seen  amidst 
its  chaos  of  clouds  some  imaginary  semblance  of 
those  happy  gardens  ;  but  this  cave  seems  likely  to 
be  one  which  demons  excavated,  and  where  the  sons 
of  the  giants  have  graven  historic  legends.  It  is 
ancient  and  magnificent,  but  I  am  weary  of  its  ob- 
scurity, its  beetling  roofs,  and  rough,  uncouth  wind- 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  125 

ings ;  I  will  go  back  to  the  fair  valley  of  Euphrates, 
and  dream  of  no  paradise  beside.  And  yet  my  be- 
loved father  foretold  these  discouragements  and  hiii- 
derances,  and  admonished  me  nevertheless  to  per- 
severe. But  then  they  are  so  great,  so  many,  so 
continued,  so  wearisome. — He  was  turning  to  re- 
trace his  steps  ;  when  a  white-robed  figure  gliding 
from  behind  a  crag,  thus  chid  the  youth's  irresolu- 
tion and  revived  his  zeal. — Idoriel,  son  of  Sethos, 
forsake  not  thy  father's  steps,  despise  not  thy  father's 
counsels.  Follow  on,  and  thou  shalt  know.  Stoop 
yet  again,  even  as  a  little  child  ;  for  this  stage  of 
thy  pilgrimage  demands  it :  bend  in  lowliness  ;  look 
intently  for  the  light  beyond  thee  ;  invoke  Adonai 
with  fervour,  and  he  shall  give  thee  light. — The 
genius  spoke  and  disappeared.  Idoriel,  amazed  yet 
animated,  resumed  his  purpose  ;  bent  low  to  follow 
onward  ;  called  more  reverently  on  the  God  of  his 
father,  and  looked  intently  towards  the  light  be- 
yond. Nor  was  it  in  vain.  For  as  the  cavern's 
roof  now  rose  again  into  loftiness,  the  volumes  of 
mist  above  him  seemed  suddenly  unrolled,  and  be- 
yond him  a  crescent  meteor,  like  the  new  moon  in 
miniature,  but  of  a  ruby  light,  shot  its  lustre  through 
all  the  vault ;  and  unlike  the  moon,  diffused  a 
cheering  v/armth.  Idoriel's  eye  brightened  and  his 
heart  beat  quick.  He  looked  around,  and  all  the 
rough  places  and  recesses  of  the  cavern  were  tinged 
with  living  rays.  The  crags,  indeed,  had  not  lost 
their  ruggedness,  nor  the  sands  their  tedious  flatness, 
M   3 


126  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

nor  the  abyss  its  precipitous  and  murky  depth  shaded 
by  rolling  vapours ;  but  the  new  illumination  cast 
upon  all  these,  now  showed  the  pilgrim  fully  what 
he  had  before  been  ignorant  of,  that  the  cavern 
abounded  with  inestimable  treasures.  He  had  found, 
indeed,  previously,  here  and  there  a  gem,  which  the 
light  of  his  own  feeble  torch  detected,  and  which 
seemed  beautiful  and  precious.  But  now  each 
height  and  each  recess  disclosed  them.  The  purest 
native  gold  was  in  the  veins  of  many  rocks  ;  "  the  pre- 
cious onyx  and  the  sapphire  "  gleamed  on  every  side  ; 
and  sometimes  where  that  ruddy  light  fell  full  upon 
them,  they  became  as  "  stones  of  fire."  On  the 
face  of  the  blankest  and  most  frowning  rock,  there 
sometimes  shone  an  invaluable  jewel;  and  some  lay 
sparkling  at  his  feet  in  the  dry  and  sandy  passages 
that  intervened.  Even  from  the  clefts  of  the  abyss 
which  he  despaired  to  fathom,  these  untold  riches 
glistened,  and  seemed  to  relieve  its  terrors.  He  saw, 
too,  that  at  least  each  principal  and  distinguished 
gem,  as  he  gazed  on  it,  grew  brighter,  and  threw 
back,  as  if  by  magic,  the  very  image  and  reflection 
of  the  crescent  star. — In  sooth,  (exclaimed  Idoriel,) 
though  my  progress  through  this  ancient  cavern  has 
been  sometimes  dark  and  sad,  and  wearisome  and 
intricate,  yet  is  it  full  of  countless  riches  and  of  grow- 
ing wonders.  This  glorious  and  guiding  star  be- 
speaks the  presence  of  Adonai ;  and  the  gems  which 
it  discloses  seem  to  befit  and  indicate  the  approach 
to  "  Eden,  the  garden  of  God."     In  that  region,  as 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  127 

our  seers  and  poets  have  assured  us,  were  found  not 
only  the  delicious  luxuriance  of  flowers  and  fruits, 
but  also  mineral  treasures  in  abundance.  "The 
gold  of  that  land  was  good."  There  was  the  sap- 
phire "  and  the  onyx  stone  ;"  and  our  first  parents, 
yet  blessed  with  guileless  innocence,  walked  often 
when  the  sun  had  set,  with  friendly  cherubim  "  in 
the  midst  of  those  stones  of  fire,"  which  shone  like 
glow-worms  in  the  moonlight  that  revealed  them. 
This  cave,  with  all  its  discouragements,  yet  seems 
likely  and  worthy  to  be  an  avenue  to  that  forfeited 
abode. — Idoriel's  fancy  was  kindled,  and  his  affec- 
tions were  "  stirred  within  him."  He  thought  of 
his  departed  father  ;  he  shed  tears  both  of  grief  and 
joy  ;  and  while,  even  through  tears  of  sorrow,  his 
eye  was  on  the  star  of  promise  and  his  heart  up- 
raised to  God,  he  still  advanced  in  hope  and  "  went 
on  his  way  rejoicing."  But  ere  long  he  grew  re- 
miss in  the  devout  and  the  observant  spirit  which 
that  good  genius  had  enjoined.  He  now  forgot  to 
pray,  and  now  was  weary :  he  ceased  to  look  to- 
wards the  ruby  light  beyond  him,  because  he  had 
encountered  a  stone  of  stumbling ;  or  some  rock  of 
off'ence  had  bruised  him  even"  through  his  sandals. 
Whenever  these  changes  in  temper  and  practice  oc- 
curred, there  ensued  effects  the  most  discouraging. 
A  chilly  vapour,  arising  from  the  abyss  and  gradu- 
ally condensing,  involved  him  in  its  damp  and  dis- 
heartening cloud,  hiding  at  once  the  crescent  and 
all  the  treasures  which  it  had  made  so  visible  and 


128  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

splendid.  Little  more  than  the  first  glimmering 
light  remained  :  it  sufficed,  indeed,  together  with 
his  taper,  to  discover  the  rudeness,  the  depths,  and 
the  windings,  but  it  was  attended  by  no  warmth, 
and  it  revealed  no  brilliants.  He  might  grope  for 
a  gem  as  at  first,  but  if  he  found  it,  it  was  pale  and 
frosty  to  his  eye.  He  began  to  be  haunted  afresh 
with  the  thought  of  illusion  and  disappointment. 
Yet  Idoriel  could  not  now  resolve  to  turn  back. 
He  remembered  what  wonders  had  been  shown  him. 
He  had  "  seen  the  star"  and  all  its  minute  but  en- 
during mirrors,  and  though  he  was  grieved  and  dis- 
consolate at  this  return  of  "  gloominess,"  more  sad 
than  the  heaviest  "morning  spread  upon  the  moun- 
tains," yet  he  dared  not  renounce  his  desire  or  nour- 
ish his  despair. — At  least  (he  cried)  if  there  he  a 
paradise,  and  if  there  be  access  to  it,  this  must  be 
"  the  way." — He  mused  on  the  admonition  of  the 
genius,  and  self-convicted  of  neglecting  it,  implored 
with  a  heartfelt  prostration  the  return  of  that  sacred 
and  consoling;  lio^ht.  But  it  beamed  not  on  the  in- 
stant;  it  revived  not  speedily.  Yet  his  white-robed 
monitor,  half  seen  amidst  the  cloud,  was  heard 
solemnly  to  whisper — Though  justly  rebuked  and 
chastised  for  thy  remissness,  be  encouraged  "  always 
to  pray,  and  not  to  faint,"  always  to  "  watch,"  and 
not  despond. — Cheered  by  these  words,  the  sorrow- 
ful Idoriel  feebly  persevered.  With  what  grateful 
rapture  did  he  find,  after  patient  waiting,  the  cloud 
begin  to  be  dissipated,  and  the  long-concealed  star 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  129 

appearing  again  beyond  him !  not  waning  or  more 
remote,  but  become  a  broader  crescent,  and  of  still 
more  ruddy  beam. 

Thus  he  grew  bitterly  and  joyfully  acquainted 
with  the  secrets  and  marvels  of  the  cave,  and  though 
"  folly  was  bound  up  in  his  heart,"  he  better  knew 
its  remedy.  When  mists  began  to  flit  before  him, 
and  the  cold  cloud  to  rest  on  him,  he  felt  the  warn- 
ing penalty,  and  sought  to  resume  a  more  devout 
and  earnest  watch.  And  still  at  every  point  where 
he  actually  did  this,  the  star  reappearing  grew  to- 
wards a  full-orbed  radiance,  and  the  gems  around 
his  path  became  more  numerous  and  refulgent.  At 
length  the  adventurer  grew  feeble  with  continued 
effort,  and  lay  down  to  rest,  like  the  patriarch  long 
after  at  Bethel,  with  stones  for  his  pillow ;  weary, 
yet  happy  ;  for  he  felt  as  if  paradise  were  near.  It 
was  a  deep  sleep  which  had  come  upon  him ;  but  in 
that  slumber  he  was  borne  by  the  genius  round  a 
jutting  rock  which  almost  closed  the  exit  of  the 
cave,  and  woke  reclinino;  under  the  olitterino;  arch 
of  egress,  where  the  fragrant  groves  of  Eden  lay 
spread  beneath,  and  the  sound  of  many  waters 
echoed  round  him  ;  and  the  lively  vision  of  a  new 
Eden  never  to  be  forfeited,  and  of  a  second  Adam,  the 
Adonai  from  heaven,  the  glorious  ransomer  and  re- 
storer of  the  wretched,  was  poured  into  Idoriel's  heart. 

I  hope  that  to  this  slight  allegory,  when  taken  in 
connexion  with  the  thoughts  that  precede  it,  no  key 


130  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

can  be  found  needful.  But  it  is  usual  to  subjoin 
the  moral  to  the  fable  :  and  it  may  be  well,  even  at 
the  risk  of  tautology,  that  we  rapidly  review  the 
purposed  lesson.  A  tender  reverence  for  parental 
example  and  injunction  is  among  those  means  which 
Providence  frequently  and  graciously  appoints,  to 
prompt  the  mind  to  a  serious  study  of  God's  word. 
But,  whatever  the  immediate  persuasive,  whether 
this  filial  love  and  veneration — or  personal  distress, 
or  spiritual  conviction,  or  speculative  anxiety — those, 
who,  having  learned  any  thing  of  the  spirit  of  the 
world,  begin  really  to  '^  search  the  Scriptures," 
cannot  but  feel,  how  entirely  that  potent  and  deri- 
sive spirit  is  against  them  ;  how  science  and  levity, 
pride  and  secularity  and  frivolousness,  would  all 
conspire  in  sarcasm  at  the  tempers  which  the  search 
must  intimate.  Yet  often,  in  retirement  from  the 
notice  of  those  scorners,  and  sometimes  openly,  in 
despite  of  them,  from  a  just  feeling  how  little  they 
can  claim  to  be  patterns  or  arbiters  of  moral  wisdom 
— this  study  is  engaged  in  and  pursued.  Whenever 
it  is  so,  the  subjects  to  which  the  Scriptures  relate 
are  perceived  to  be  vast  and  profound.  Dark  ques- 
tions of  history  and  philosophy  suggest  themselves, 
and  the  great  spiritual  and  theological  secrets  which 
no  human  mind  can  fathom,  environ  us  on  all  sides. 
In  some  parts  we  are  surprised  by  what  seems  irk- 
some and  unimportant.  In  others  weighty  and 
painful  difficulties  repel  and  wound  us.  The  feeble 
liorhts   of  our  reason  and  our  information  cannot 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  131 

half  dispel  these  obscurities,  and  we  are  tempted 
at  times  impatiently  or  despondently  to  ask  our- 
selves— Can  a  volume,  which  so  perpetually  excites 
my  doubts,  and  baffles  alike  my  capacit}'  and  my 
research,  be  verily  the  holy  word  of  God  ;  given  as 
my  only  guide  and  way  to  heavenly  wisdom  and 
life  eternal?  Such,  doubtless,  is  the  unacknow- 
ledged and  afflictive  feeling  of  many  an  inquirer's 
mind.  But  let  the  great  Inspirer  of  that  holy  word 
give  a  new  prominence  to  its  most  affecting  truths, 
or  rather  soften  and  prepare  the  mind  to  receive 
deeply  their  designed  and  natural  impression — let 
Him  "  shine  within  the  heart  to  give  the  light  of  the 
knowledge  of  his  glory  "  (as  it  is  unveiled  by  this 
volume)  "in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,"  and  then  at 
once  are  the  aspect  and  estimate  of  the  whole  book 
essentially  and  benignly  altered.  Difficulties  in- 
deed remain  ;  many  of  them  perplexing,  some  im- 
portant, some  inscrutable.  But  not  a  few  are  un- 
ravelled ;  while  others  are  illustrated,  and  all,  in 
a  measure,  relieved,  by  those  strong  and  glowing 
beams  of  Divine  holiness  and  loving-kindness  which 
are  now  thrown  upon  the  whole.  By  the  ever-cres- 
cent light  and  warmth  of  that  forgiving  Love  which 
is  felt  to  be  the  very  essence  of  the  revelation,  are 
all  its  parts  now  examined  and  interpreted,  or, 
where  not  to  be  interpreted,  submissively  yet  hope- 
fully postponed.  The  appalling  sins  and  miseries 
of  man,  and  the  terrific  judgments  from  his  Maker, 
which  this  book  so  explicitly  and  awfully  records, 


132  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

are  vindicated,  as  far  as  they  can  be,  probably,  to 
our  present  narrow  faculties,  from  the  dreadful 
mystery  which  involves  them,  by  a  view  of  the  still 
greater  remedial  mystery  of  salvation.  A  multitude 
of  precious  truths,  unequally  interspersed,  but  won- 
derfully harmonizing — admonitory,  consoling,  pro- 
missory, predictive — are  now  discerned  and  valued, 
as  reflecting,  in  their  several  modes  and  degrees, 
the  one  great  light  of  the  Divine  perfection.  In 
this  temper  of  heart,  that  is,  with  a  strong  appre- 
hension and  earnest  '*  acceptation  "  of  "  the  glad 
tidings  of  great  joy,"  the  Scriptures,  notwithstanding 
their  unremoved  difficulties,  will  assuredly  be  held 
fast  as  "the  gift  of  God,"  the  "  word  of  life,"  the 
charter  for  eternity.  But  when  this  sentiment  be- 
comes deadened  or  suspended — when,  from  remiss- 
ness in  prayer,  or  an  un watchful,  unbelieving  dis- 
position, we  cease  to  contemplate  with  grateful 
tenderness  those  cardinal  doctrines,  and  think  coldly 
of  the  attributes  displayed  in  God's  own  way  of  dis- 
pensing pardon,  life,  and  felicity — then,  while  our 
hope  grows  faint,  our  doubts  are  strengthened  and 
multiplied.  We  turn  to  dwell  almost  exclusively  on 
what  is  distasteful  or  unsearchable,  and  every  such 
difficulty  acquires  tenfold  force. 

The  great  antidote  for  such  a  state  must  be 
*'  watching  unto  prayer  ;  "  together  with  renewed 
though  humble  efforts  to  realize  the  deep  necessity 
and  unequalled  worth  of  those  same  doctrines.  Yet 
these  best  of  means,  in  that  languid  and  poor  way 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  133 

of  using  them  with  which  some  of  us  are  charge- 
able, may  not  at  once,  or  even  speedily,  remove 
such  feelings.  If,  however,  they  are  sincerely  and 
perseveringly  resorted  to,  we  may  confidently  hope 
they  shall  do  so  at  length.  "  Who  is  among  you 
that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the  voice  of  his 
servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness  and  hath  no  light  ? 
Let  him  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay 
himself  upon  his  God."  "  The  glorious  gospel  of 
Christ,"  when  it  shines  again  with  new  power  in 
the  heart,  shall  be  yet  more  glorious  and  more  wel- 
come. Our  recent  folly  and  unfaithfulness  and 
pain  shall  have  given  us  new  reasons  to  prize  it ;  and 
difficulties  shall  be  still  more  cast  into  shade  by  the 
blessed  discovery.  Let  us  press  through  these  al- 
ternations ;  which — by  our  own  fault,  or  perhaps  by 
the  secret  counsel  and  appointment  of  Him  who  de- 
signs to  "  humble  and  to  prove"  us — may  yet  be 
many.  But  ^'  he  that  endureth  to  the  end  shall  be 
saved ; "  saved  by  those  Divine  and  immutable 
methods  which  he  too  often  failed  to  appreciate  and 
rejoice  in.  And  when,  in  the  "  deep  sleep"  of  death, 
the  Christian  bids  farewell  to  God's  written  revela- 
tion, then  shall  the  immediate  and  unclouded  light 
of  Divine  perfection  burst  upon  him,  and  he  shall  be 
transported  "  to  know,  even  as  also  he  is  known." 

Meanwhile,  though  the  complete  Bible,  if  we 
hold  it  to  be  in  all  its  parts  a  published  revelation, 
should  be  as  much  accessible  to  all  as  the  prospect 
of  the  earth  and  skies,  yet  it  by  no  means  follows 

N 


134  DIFFICULTIES    OCCURRING  VI. 

that  each  portion  of  this  collection  of  Scriptures 
ought  to  engage  equally  the  attention  of  every  read- 
er, or  that  of  any  one  reader  in  an  equal  degree.  If 
revealed  truth  contain,  to  adopt  a  well-known  figure, 
"  fords  where  the  lamb  may  wade,  and  depths  where 
the  elephant  must  swim,"  the  feebler  is  not  called 
to  venture  daily  where  the  flood  may  overflow  or 
weary  it.  Had  our  pilgrim  of  the  cavern,  when 
new  mists  and  darkness  occurred,  not  selected  that 
path  where  was  most  light  and  least  obstruction,  he 
would  have  been  still  more  disheartened  and  bewil- 
dered. Had  he  thrust  himself  far  into  "  the  clefts 
of  the  rugged  rocks,"  the  guiding  star  might  have 
been  at  any  moment  hid.  And  this  seems  one  rea- 
son why  the  habit  of  biblical  criticism  is  sometimes 
found  to  have  lowered  faith  and  lessened  spiritual- 
ity ;  because  while  the  "  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood "  are  so  much  and  sedulously  investigated, 
the  great  things  of  God,  the  truths  which  "  bedew, 
embalm,  and  overrun  the  heart,"  *  are  too  little  im- 
bibed. 

He  who  is  exploring  the  strata  of  a  deep  chasm, 
or  searching  a  mine  for  subterraneous  fossils,  is  no 
doubt  investigating  (and,  it  may  be,  very  commend- 
ably)  "  the  wonderful  works  of  God  ;"  but  if  these 
be  his  habitual  preferences  and  pursuits,  he  will  sel- 
dom gather  health  and  animation  amidst  the  breezes 
and  sunshine  of  the  mountain  landscape.     He  who 

*  Herbert,  in  the  beautiful  piece  entitled  "  The  Glance." 


VI.  IN    REVEALED    TRUTH.  135 

is  Studying  with  Selden  the  detail  and  principles  of 
the  Mosaic  code,  or  with  Lowth  the  structure  of 
Hebrew  poetry,  is  doubtless  well  occupied  in  exam- 
ining those  Scriptures  which  are  given  *'  by  inspir- 
ation of  God  ;  "  but  he  must  beware  lest,  while  oc- 
cupied by  the  laws  of  sacrifice  or  the  laws  of  metre, 
he  should  be  too  little  conversant  with  that  redemp- 
tion of  which  the  Mosaic  expiations  were  a  tempo- 
rary shadow,  and  which  the  lyre  of  Isaiah  could 
but  prelude.  To  the  weaker  or  more  susceptible 
Christian  I  would  say — Neglect  no  part  of  Scrip- 
ture wholly  ;  still  less  adopt  selections  unfaithful 
to  your  highest  interests.  But  do  not  study  most 
those  parts  which  profit  you  the  least,  which  are,  in 
your  experience,  most  difficult,  and  therefore  some- 
times, at  least,  will  be  unfit  for  you.  Do  not  enter 
on  the  visions  of  Ezekiel  or  Zechariah,  the  conquests 
of  Joshua,  or  the  wars  of  David,  at  a  season  when 
Peter's  Epistles  or  John's  Gospel,  or  devotional  por- 
tions of  the  Psalms  and  Prophets,  are  better  adapt- 
ed to  your  perusal.  Some  modern  writers  appear 
to  intimate,  that  the  study  of  every  part  of  Scripture 
is  to  all  persons  equally  a  duty.  But  this  is  as  if  a 
shepherd,  having  a  large  and  varied  district  for  his 
flocks,  should  urge  the  weary  and  weak,  in  regular 
circuit,  across  torrents  and  up  rugged  paths,  to  pick 
the  "  herbs  of  the  mountains,"  instead  of  encour- 
aging them  to  feed  oftenest  "  in  green  pastures  be- 
side the  still  waters." 

I    will   only   recall,    in    conclusion,   the   leading 
N  2 


136  DIFFICULTIES    1^    REVEALED    TRUTH.  VI. 

thought  which  has  been  enforced.  Let  us  earnestly 
and  hopefully  seek  an  increase  of  faith  and  love :  a 
more  unintermitted  and  affectionate  adherence  to  the 
most  invaluable  truths  ;  those  which  must  be  above 
all  price,  whenever  sin  is  felt  to  be  perilous  and 
death  imminent,  and  a  full  salvation  from  both  the 
only  glorious  hope  :  which,  therefore,  when  con- 
templated with  steadfastness  and  fervour,  will  dispel 
much  of  the  surrounding  obscurity,  and  reconcile  us 
to  the  rest. 


VIT. 


ON  THE  DESPONDENCY  ARISING  FROM  A  SENSE  OF 
GREAT  AND  MULTIPLIED  SINFULNESS;  ESPECI- 
ALLY  AS  AGGRAVATED  BY  A  PROFESSED  RECEP- 
TION OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


It  happens  with  prescriptions  for  spiritual  griefs 
and  distresses,  as  with  those  for  latent  bodily  dis- 
orders ;  the  medicines  may  be  most  valuable  and 
efl&cacious  in  themselves,  yet  may  frequently  fail 
to  reach  our  particular  case.  If  we  adduce  to  you 
(for  example)  St.  Paul's  noble  proclamation  of  his 
Saviour's  mercy,  and  solemn  avowal  of  his  own  ex- 
treme need  of  it  —  "Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners,  of  whom  I  am  chief.'' —  you 
will  probably  say  —  Yes,  but  the  apostle  referred 
to  sins  before  his  conversion,  and  these,  heinous  as 
they  were,  I  can  readily  conceive  "blotted  out" 
by  an  act  of  sovereign  grace.  It  is  true  that, 
for  my  own  offences,  even  of  a  parallel  period, 
N   3 


138  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

(although  of  less  "  injurious  "  character  and  mag- 
nitude than  his,)  I  can  find  less  of  extenuation  ; 
inasmuch  as  I  cannot  forget  the  tender  Christian 
instructions,  and  the  keenly  luminous  rebukes  of 
conscience,  in  despite  of  which  they  were  fostered  : 
nor,  altogether,  the  inward  malignity  of  those  tem- 
pers, the  hidden  turpitude  of  those  passions  and 
imaginings,  which  they  involved.  I  dwelt  in  that 
"world  of  iniquity"  and  traversed  its  recesses, 
while  others  could  but  observe  it  transiently  and 
distantly  as  among  "wandering  stars;"  so  far, 
moreover,  from  saying  with  Paul  that  "  I  thought  I 
did  God  service,"  1  must  confess,  that  knowing  my- 
self a  rebel,  I  "  revolted  more  and  more."  And 
yet — with  this  afflictive  distinction  from  his  case, 
this  darker,  stronger  title  to  the  motto,  "  of  whom  I 
am  chief," — I  could  still  confidently  indulge  the 
hope  that  a  pardoning  God  had  "  cast  all  those  sins 
into  the  depths  of  the  sea,"  had  He  but  likewise 
"  subdued  my  iniquities  ; "  were  there  proof  as  in- 
disputable as  in  the  instance  of  Paul,  of  my  being 
indeed  "  a  new  creature."  But  although,  in  desire 
and  profession,  1  have  long  resorted  to  the  refuge 
of  the  penitent ;  although  in  purpose  I  have  abjured 
iniquity,  and  have  sought  to  present  myself  "  a 
living  sacrifice"  to  God,  still  so  great  and  numerous 
have  been  my  "  secret  faults,"  so  fearful  at  many 
times  the  strength  and  mastery  of  "presumptuous 
sins,"  so  far  and  often  am  I  brought  "  into  captivity 
to  the  law  of  sin  and  death,"  that  I  know  not  how 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  139 

to  hope  my  renovation  has  been  genuine.  I  trem- 
ble lest  offences  subsequent  to  so  many  prayers  and 
vows  on  my  part,  to  so  much  long-suffering  kind- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  Most  Holy,  should  in  all 
their  hundred-fold  ingratitude  and  baseness  remain 
uncancelled,  and  consign  me  at  last  to  woes  intense- 
ly sharpened  by  the  thought,  that  I  was  so  long 
"  almost  a  Christian," — "  not  far  from  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

Yet  it  is  not,  I  think,  usually  among  such  as  have 
to  acknowledge  bold  and  unrestrained  transgressions 
in  former  life,  that  we  may  expect  the  most  anxious 
interest  in  our  present  subject ;  for  those  who  once 
gave  unchecked  indulgence  to  corrupt  desires  and 
irreligious  habits,  can  hardly  fail  to  recognise  so 
much  of  practical  change  attendant  on  their  Chris- 
tian profession,  as  to  indicate  at  least  some  great  re- 
volution of  principle  and  feeling  ;  and,  whatever  be 
the  power,  or  even  incidental  dominance,  of  a  sin- 
fulness which  they  deplore,  they  must  yet  often  re- 
vert to  that  prior  change,  with  a  degree  of  hope  that 
it  was  truly  "  from  above." 

But  you,  it  may  be,  have  another  kind  of  path 
and  memoir  to  retrace.  Your  course  has  differed 
exceedingly  from  that  of  Paul  or  Augustine,  of 
Bunyan  or  of  John  Newton  ;  you  were  not  only 
brought  up  (like  some  of  them)  "  in  the  nurture 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord,"  but  you  never  (like 
them)  scorned  that  admonition,  nor  overtly  and 
daringly  "  turned  from  the  holy  commandment : " 


140  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

you  maintained  from  earliest  years  an    unbroken 
outward  respect,  with  a  measure  likewise  of  inward 
veneration,  for  the  appointments  and  promises  of  re- 
ligion ;  and  though  secret  sins  insnared  and  often 
fearfully  enthralled  you,  yet  were  you  not  permitted 
at  any  time  long  to  yield  yourself  their  unresisting 
prey.     Now  from  this  state — when  your  feeling  of 
the  perilous   evil   of  sin  became  more   acute   and 
poignant,  and  your  sense  of  the  value  of  the  gospel 
remedy  more  deep  and  cogent — a  most  real  and 
vital  transition  might  take  place,  to  the  reception  of 
God's  mercy  through  an  atoning  Saviour  ;  and  yet 
this  transition  be,  even  in  your  own  view,  compara- 
tively unmarked  and  slight.     You  had  passed,  as  it 
were,  into  what  was  deemed  the  path  of  evangelic 
light  and  warmth,  not  from  a  dark  and  icy  zone  of 
indifference  and  hardness,  but  from  some  nearer  and 
more  dubious   track.      This  it  is  which  augments 
your  doubt.     You  seemed,  and  still  seem,  to  have 
been  previously  sailing,  or  drifting,  however  slowly 
and  unsteadily  and  heartlessly,  in  almost  the  same 
course  :  for  the  climate,  and  the  vessels  in  company, 
were  not  very  dissimilar. — You  question  besides  if 
you  are  indeed  within  the  tropic  line,  because  in- 
stead of  those  gentle  and  uniform  gales  which  should 
there  impel  you  heavenward,  you  encounter  mists 
and  calms  and  tempests,  and  often  find  the  wind 
more  boisterous  and  more  contrary  than  before  you 
were  professedly  steering  towards  the  land  of  rest. 
But  there  is  something  in  your  case  still  more 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  141 

peculiar.  Not  only  do  you  contrast,  like  other 
watchful  self-examiners,  the  opinion  of  human  wit- 
nesses with  your  secret  knowledge  of  evils  in  your 
Qwn  heart — and  viewing  these  with  the  eye  of  in- 
terior consciousness,  through  the  detecting  micro- 
scope of  God's  holy  law,  find  their  multitude  and 
deformity  and  restless  force  appalling — but  you  feel 
the  just  demand  of  your  special  privileges  and  ex- 
emptions. You  were  never  imbued  in  childhood 
by  intimate  connexions,  with  prejudices  against  re- 
vealed truth .  You  saw  and  felt  even  then  the  mo- 
mentous grandeur  of  "  the  things  eternal."  Pro- 
vidential restraints  have  surrounded  you.  You  are 
aware  that  bodily  and  mental  temperament  have 
ever  contributed  to  deter  you  from  flagrant  trans- 
gression. And  when,  amidst  these  thoughts,  you 
revolve  your  own  unpublished  annals,  you  perceive 
with  dread  how  much  more  culpable  each  offence, 
of  thought,  word,  and  deed,  must  be  in  your  case, 
than  the  gross  outward  sins  of  some  who  were  not 
a  thousandth  part  so  enlightened  or  exempted  or 
favoured.  But  above  all,  as  you  have  advanced 
through  successive  years  in  a  Christian  profession, 
and  have  experienced,  amidst  so  many  relapses,  the 
forbearance  of  your  God,  and  yet  —  with  these  un- 
numbered debts  and  bonds  of  gratitude  accumu- 
lating still,  with  life  hastening  to  its  period,  with 
the  great  work  of  sanctification  more  and  still  more 
urgent,  with  the  confirmed  opinion  of  others  that 
your  heart  must,  long  ere  now,  be  "  established  with 


142  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

grace  " — have  found  irresolution  and  corruption  still 
prevailing  against  your  principles  and  hopes — then 
has  the  gloomiest  and  most  afflictive  of  all  fears  in- 
vaded and  oppressed  you,  the  fear  that  you  are  not 
in  reality  "  transformed  hy  the  renewing  of  the 
mind."  You  have  awfully  felt,  perhaps,  what  one 
of  our  most  original  writers  has  thus  forcibly  stated, 
that  the  same  sin  "  committed  at  sixteen,  is  not  the 
same  (though  it  agree  in  all  other  circumstances) 
at  forty  ;  but  swells  and  doubles  from  the  circum- 
stance of  our  ages  ;  wherein  besides  the  constant 
and  inexcusable  habit  of  transgressing,  it  hath  the 
maturity  of  our  judgment  to  cut  off  pretence  unto 
excuse  or  pardon  :"  that  "  every  sin,  the  more  it  is 
committed,  the  more  it  acquireth  in  the  quality  of 
evil ;  as  it  succeeds  in  times,  so  it  proceeds  into  de- 
grees of  badness  ;  for  as  they  proceed  they  ever  mul- 
tiply ;  and,  like  figures  in  arithmetic,  the  last  stands 
for  more  than  all  that  went  before  it."*  Or  (to  ex- 
press more  accurately  what  seems  to  be  this  author's 
allusion)  you  shudder  to  think  that  each  new  re- 
petition of  the  same  sin  is  like  a  notation  of  units 
from  the  right  of  the  page  ;  where  each  figure  added 
on  the  left,  though  it  be  only  a  unit  like  the  former, 
yet  stands  for  a  multiple  of  the  last  preceding. — 
Alas,  (both  you  and  I  must  say,)  how  fearful  yet 
how  true  a  reckoning  !  how  dreadful  a  "  progres- 
sion !"     How  overwhelming  and  self-multiplying  a 

*  Sir  T.  Browne,  Rel.  Med.  pp.  100,  101.    Ed.  1642. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  143 

burden  of  offences  ! — And  my  path  (you  will  add) 
has  been  always  full  of  light :  I  have  been  gently 
drawn,  by  various  attractions,  and   by  distinguished 
instruments,    towards   the   way  of  peace ;    Divine 
Providence  has  favoured   me  at  once  by  restraints 
and  incitements  :  —  yet,  while  the  world  and  the 
church  may  have   seen  little  to  condemn,    I  have 
been  consciously  "  a  backslider  in  heart,"  and  been 
"filled  with  my  own  way."     Worse  than  all,  when 
a  gracious  God  has  seemed  to  "  restore  "  me,  and  to 
lead  me  "  for  his  name's  sake  "  in  "  paths  of  right- 
eousness "  anew,  and  the  most  affecting  motives  to 
watchfulness  have  multiplied  while  reviewing  the 
pangs  of  past  transgression,  and  the  mercies  which 
allayed  them — still,  after  all  this,  have  I  been  again 
and  yet  again  unfaithful,  and  "  a  deceived  heart 
hath  turned  me  aside."     The  spiritual  languor,  the 
want  of  peace  and  joy,  the  strong  temptations  to 
utter  unbelief  under  which  I  labour,  seem  to  be  the 
bitter  fruits  of  all  this  reiterated  ungrateful  incon- 
stancy :  and  often  does  my  heart  interpret  them  as 
the  too  probable  omens  of  that  awful  rejection  which 
I  may  at  last  experience,  when  the  faithful  followers 
of  their  Lord  shall  be  received  "  into  everlasting 
habitations."      For  if  so  many  and  long-continued 
petitions  and  desires  have  not  yet  availed  to  pro- 
cure me  "  an  overcoming  faith"  and  a  constraining 
love;  if  I  have   "come  short "  of  true  conversion 
through  all  these  years  of  specious  profession,  but 


144  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

feeble  conflict,  and  languid  though  frequent  waiting 
upon  God  ;  what  hope  can  I  possess,  that,  now  or 
hereafter,  with  susceptibilities  blunted  by  being  long 
conversant  with  ineffective  truth,  I  shall  attain  "  a 
new  heart  and  a  right  spirit,"  and  feel  efHciently 
and  joyfully  "  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  !  " 

We  must  ask,  in  reply  to  these  dark  fears  and 
distressing  presages, — What  right  have  you  to  con- 
clude, that  there  has  been  and  is  no  saving  efficacy 
of  Divine  grace  upon  your  mind,  on  account  of  the 
unceasing  conflicts  of  a  corrupt  and  degenerate  na- 
ture? Or,  rather,  are  you  not  unmindful  of  the 
anti-scriptural  and  presumptuous  views  which  such 
a  conclusion  would  imply  ?  By  your  own  acknow- 
ledgment, you  have  offered  up  many  and  continued 
supplications  ;  and  the  deepest  desire  of  your  heart, 
though  doubtless  often  interrupted  and  always  con- 
tended with,  has  been  and  still  is  to  attain  real  com- 
munion with  God  and  freedom  from  iniquity.  To 
what  then  do  you  ascribe  this  desire,  and  all  the 
prayers,  confessions,  and  endeavours,  however  great 
their  imperfection  and  defilement,  which  it  still  has 
prompted  ?  You  know  that  one  of  the  earliest  Di- 
vine declarations  revealed  in  Scripture  was  this — 
"The  imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his 
youth  ;"  *  and  we  are  previously  told  "  God  saw 
that  the  wickedness  of  man  was  great  " — "  and  that 

*  Gen.  viii.  21. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  145 

every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  was 
only  evil  continually."  ^'^  You  remember  that  a 
prophet,  many  ages  after,  solemnly  affirmed,  in  the 
midst  of  the  only  people  who  possessed  a  pure  faith 
and  worship,  "The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
and  desperately  wicked  ; "  you  have  read  the  more 
recent  declaration  of  Him  who  "  knew  what  was  in 
man"  — "  From  within,  out  of  the  heart  of  man, 
proceed  evil  thoughts,  adulteries,  fornications,  mur- 
ders, thefts,  covetousness,  wickedness,  deceit,  lascivi- 
ousness,  an  evil  eye,  blasphemy,  pride,  foolishness. 
All  these  evil  things  come  from  within."  f 

Can  you  then  attribute  your  secret  prayers,  and 
unfeigned  desires,  and  even  feeblest  efforts  for  holi- 
ness and  obedience,  to  your  own  unassisted  nature 
and  will, —  without  consequences  from  which  you 
would  utterly  recoil  ? — without  implying,  that  "  that 
which  is  born  of  the  flesh"  is  not  "flesh," — that 
"every  good  and  perfect  gift "  does  not  specially 
come  down  "from  the  Father  of  lights;" — that 
"  the  natural  man  "  can  discern  "  the  things  of  the 
Spirit,"  perceive  their  excellency,  and  go  on  to  seek 
them  ; — without,  in  short,  abundantly  falsifying  the 
word  of  God  ? 

We  are  not  apt  to  consider  how  much  pride  and 
unbelief  there  may  be  in  denying,  although  it  be 
with  a  temper  of  self-abasement  and  "  voluntary  hu- 
mility," that  it  is  God  who  worketh  in  us  "  to  wdll 

*  Gen.  vi.  5.  .  f  Mark  vii.  21—23. 


146  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

and  to  do;"  that  He  also  hath  "wrought  all  our 
works  in  us  ;  "  that  we  have  nothing  which  we  have 
"  not  received."  The  conviction  ought  to  be  more 
deeply  impressed  on  us,  that  not  only  is  it  presump- 
tuous, and  in  some  sense  blasphemous,  to  question 
the  power  or  willingness  of  Jehovah  to  forgive  and 
renew  us,  if  still  unforgiven  and  unrenewed  ;  but 
that  it  also  approaches,  more  than  we  are  aware,  to 
a  self-righteous  blasphemy  and  contradiction  of 
God's  word,  if  we  say — I  have  indeed  often  prayed 
with  sincerity,  and  (amidst  unspeakable  frailty  and 
depravity)  hungered  and  thirsted  after  righteous- 
ness ;  I  have  soiiglit  to  lay  hold  of  the  gospel  re- 
fuge, and  to  walk  worthy  of  that  high  vocation  ;  but 
all  this  has  been  my  own  impulse  and  my  own  work, 
and  not  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit.*  Yet  this 
is  what  you  virtually  assume  and  affirm  when  you 
despond  of  your  spiritual  condition,  and  refuse  to 
number  yourself  among  those  who  are  partakers  of 
Divine  grace.  How  does  such  a  view  of  your  state 
answer  the  apostle's  question,  "  Who  hath  made  thee 
to  differ — and  what  hast  thou  that  thou  hast  not  re- 
ceived?" It  answers  by  implication,  though  un- 
consciously, thus  : — I  have  made  myself  to  differ ;  or 
mere  circumstances  have  made  me  to  differ.  1  have 
spiritual  desires,  and  an  anxiety  for  perfection,  for 
obeying  the  will  of  God  and  benefiting  others  ;  yet 
I  have  not  received  them  specially  fi'om  Him  ;  they 

*  See  Note  C,  already  referred  to  at  p.  50. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  147 

are  natural  or  accidental,  or  arise  from  the  force  of 
habits  and  associations. — "Many"  (writes  an  old 
divine)  "  out  of  a  dangerous  error,  think  that  the 
good  which  is  in  them  and  issueth  from  them,  is 
from  themselves,  and  not  from  the  powerful  work 
of  grace."  *  When  the  matter  is  placed  in  this  light, 
(and  I  see  no  reason  for  doubting  its  fairness,)  a 
sincere  and  humble  mind,  which  reveres  the  testi- 
mony of  Scripture,  which  shrinks  from  false  and 
arrogant  pretensions,  and  would  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  robbing  the  Almighty  of  the  glory  due 
unto  his  name,  will,  if  I  mistake  not,  be  powerfully 
and  solemnly  restrained  from  denying,  (even  by 
implication,  or  apparently,)  that  where  "  a  good 
work"  appears  to  have  commenced  and  to  exist  in 
the  soul,  it  is  "  He  vrhich  hath  begun"  it ;  f  that  it  is 
a  work  "not  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will 
of  man,  but  of  God."  %  I  would  have  you  to  be 
reduced  and  "  shut  up"  (as  it  were)  "  unto  the  faith" 
of  these  revealed  truths,  on  pain  of  the  conviction, 
or  at  least  suspicion,  that  you  virtually  discard 
them ;  in  assuming  to  yourself  what  the  Scripture 
ascribes  to  the  Eternal  Spirit.  And  if  this  impres- 
sion be  produced,  it  will  conduce  at  once  to  hope 
and  humiliation  ;  for  it  is  certain  that  the  latter  sen- 
timent cannot  be  wanting,  to  mingle  with  your 
comfort  and  enhance  your  gratitude  :  since  if  you 
feel,  as  I  trust  you  may  be  thus  compelled  to  feel, 

*  Sibbes.  f  Phil.  i.  6.  +  John  i.  13. 

o  2 


14.8  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

that  it  is  still  your  duty  to  address  the  throne  of 
mercy  in  the  character  of  a  child,  you  must  needs 
go  as  a  faithless  and  wandering,  though  returning 
child;  "not  worthy  to  be  called"  a  son.  You 
will  be  ready  to  preface  your  requests  with  the  con- 
fession— 

"  I  that  have  most  ungrateful  been 

Of  all  that  e'er  thy  grace  received, 
Ten  thousand  times  thy  goodness  seen, 

Ten  thousand  times  thy  mercy  grieved," — 

And  the  ground  of  your  hope,  in  this  filial,  yet  un- 
filial  character,  will,  in  itself,  be  no  other  (though 
it  may  perhaps  be  stronger)  than  would  be  the 
ground  of  your  hope  as  a  convinced  but  unreconciled 
sinner,  if  you  still,  notwithstanding  the  thoughts 
now  offered,  should  distressingly  conclude  or  ap- 
prehend that  you  have  never  attained  the  adoption 
of  "  the  children  of  God."  For  I  am  not  uncon- 
scious that  these  arguments  may  not  avail  with  you 
(nay,  it  is  possible  that  with  some  readers  they 
ought  not  to  avail)  in  establishing  the  persuasion 
that  your  profession  has  been  genuine  ;  founded 
in  a  true  conversion  of  the  heart  begun.  It  would 
indeed  be  clearly  presumptuous  in  those  whom  I 
address,  (those  who  in  principle  are  humble  and 
sincere,)  to  decide  that  it  has  7iot ;  but  I  can  im- 
agine cases  among  them  where  it  will  be  still 
felt  presumptuous  also  to  determine  that  it  has. 
Whichever,  therefore,  in  the  interior  scrutiny  of 
conscience,  accompanied  with  prayer  for  heavenly 


VII.  FKOM    SINFULNESS.  149 

light,  be  at  any  time  your  decision, — whether  you 
conclude,  I  have  been  hitherto  but  a  "  borderer," 
often  close  beside  "  the  narrow  way,"  but  never 
really  on  it ;  or  whether — I  have  indeed  been  led 
into  that  path,  but  have  treacherously  and  perpetu- 
ally declined  and  wandered  from  it,  and  when 
brought  back  have  yet  again  gone  wretchedly  astray ; 
or  whether  you  cannot  ascertain  which  is  the  fact, 
and  must  cast  yourself  at  last  on  the  omniscient 
mercy  of  your  Judge,  saying,  like  the  prophet,  "  O 
Lord  God,  thou  knowest :  " —  still,  let  me  repeat, 
the  basis  of  your  hope  is  one  and  invariable  in  it- 
self; and  if  you  will  humbly  rest  on  it — prostrate, 
but  prostrate  before  the  mercy-seat — it  is  ample  and 
immovable  for  you.  Whichever  you  deem  to  be 
the  worse  and  less  hopeful  supposition, — for  this  will 
depend  partly  on  the  kind  of  theology  you  have  im- 
bibed, and  partly  on  the  turn  of  personal  feeling, — 
we  address  ourselves  to  that  worse  and  more  pain- 
ful supposition,  and  would  apply  to  it  that  one  balm  of 
hope  which  the  wounds  of  conscience  call  for,  which 
the  expiations  of  heathenism  proposed  to  furnish, 
but  which  neither  false  religion  nor  philosophy  could 
yield  ;  which  the  Bible  alone  discovers  and  pre- 
sents, when  it  declares  the  exhaustless  placability 
and  evinces  the  infinite  loving-kindnesses  of  the 
Holy  and  Just  God.  It  is  indeed  fully  admitted 
and  deeply  felt,  that  this  very  attribute  of  Divine 
mercy,  so  graciously  revealed  to  us  in  many  forms 
of  promise,  and  in  one  unparalleled  exhibition  and 
o  3 


150  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

act,  does  itself  awfully  augment  our  guilt ;  that  the 
very  resort  and  recurrence  to  it  shows  us  also  with 
a  more  and  more  terrific  clearness,  against  what  a 
"  God  and  Father  "  we  have  knowingly  transgress- 
ed ;  that  in  one  sense,  therefore,  it  may  seem  to 
render  hope  or  assurance  more  difficult  to  attain  or 
to  recover. 

But  while  the  greatness  of  this  mercy  convicts 
and  abases,  still  must  its  victorious  infinitude  reas- 
sure and  console.  The  doctrine  of  redundant  and 
illimitable  pardons,  constitutes  the  glory  and  seals 
the  Divinity  of  the  "  glad  tidings  ; "  of  that  gospel, 
which  the  Irish  version  of  Scripture  (we  are  told) 
emphatically  entitles — "  The  story  of  peace."  It  did 
so  even  to  believers  of  patriarchal  times  ;  much 
more  "  in  these  last  days  "  when  "  God  hath  spoken 
by  his  Son," — when  the  "  story  of  peace,"  the  doc- 
trine of  boundless  pardon,  is  more  fully  developed, 
and  still  more  strongly  ratified.  That  doctrine 
pours  into  the  mind,  if  strengthened  to  receive  it 
with  cordial  and  animated  faith,  a  beam  at  once 
convicting,  purifying,  and  healing ;  which  while  it 
enlightens  each  secret  "  chamber  of  imagery," 
pierces  also  and  scatters  each  defilement,  and  ef- 
faces each  record  of  condemnation  there  ;  bringing 
out  more  visibly,  but  to  cancel  as  potently,  the  stains 
of  guilt  and  the  sentences  of  ruin  ;  shining  in  the 
heart  to  display  the  dreadful  strength  and  complex- 
ity of  its  self-riveted  chains,  and  to  melt  them  in 
the  glow  and  splendour  of  a  Divine  redemption  : — 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  151 

which  says,  what  no  priest  or  hecatomb,  no  sage  or 
disputant,  can  say  with  efficiency  to  the  wounded 
spirit,  "  Return  unto  Jehovah,  for  He  will  have 
mercy,  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  multiply  par- 
don." *  What  less  than  this  could  meet  your  anx- 
iety and  fear  1  What  more  than  this,  except  by 
facts  more  forcible  than  words,  to  which  I  must 
presently  advert,  could  Infinite  Mercy  say  to  dissi- 
pate them  ?  Without  this  promise  of  reiterated 
pardons,  this  boundless  store  of  "  mercies  and  for- 
givenesses," what  personal  trust  or  joy  could  the 
gospel  of  Christ  inspire  in  you  or  in  me  ?  If  we 
could  not  hear  this  proclamation  still  renewed,  as 
from  the  Saviour's  lips,  as  from  the  Redeemer's 
cross  —  He  will  multiply,  and  multiply,  and  still 
multiply,  his  pardons — in  vain  for  us  would  be  the 
song  of  seraphs, "  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  towards 
men."  If  the  good-will  were  bounded,  what  fully 
awakened  transgressor  would  not  say  and  feel — 
Alas!  "  it  extendeth  not  "  to  me.  If  we  could  sup- 
pose the  Divine  forgiveness  offered  but  a  hundred 
or  a  thousand  times,  how  many  a  Christian  would 
be  unhappily  conscious — Oh,  I  have  forfeited  it  ten 
thousand  times,  and  how  shall  it  avail  for  77ie  ? — 
and  if  we  should  conceive  of  it  as  secretly  limited, 
though  without  an  assigned  or  discoverable  limit, 
how  would  prevailing  fear  suggest — That  unknown 

*  See  Hebr.  Isa.  Iv.  7,  and  comp.  Psa.  li.  1,  2.     The  marginal 
Latin  of  those  passages,  in  the  version  of  Junius,  is, 
"  multiplicat  condonando  " "  multiplica  abluere  !" 


152  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

boundary  is  passed  by  me  !  And  yet  this  very  pro- 
cess, of  suppositions  alike  gloomy  and  unwarranted 
by  Scripture,  takes  place  in  the  desponding  mind. 
While  we  may  admit  in  theory  that  God's  revealed 
mercies  in  Christ,  his  power  and  will  to  forgive, 
are,  like  his  other  attributes,  infinite,  there  is  a  latent 
temper  and  habit  of  distrust,  which  practically  sets 
bounds  to  them.  It  is  this  limitation  of"  the  High 
and  Holy  One,"  which  seems  to  hold  back  not  a  few 
convinced  offenders  from  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
many  mourning  believers,  if  not  from  the  precincts 
of  that  throne,  at  least  from  reviving  hope  and  from 
recovered  peace. 

Would  we  triumph  over  this  unhappiness,  and,  I 
may  add,  over  this  kind  of  unbelief  and  sin, — then 
whatever  be  our  views  or  apprehensions  concerning 
our  spiritual  state,  we  are  bound  to  meditate  intent- 
ly on  those  scriptural  arguments  which  will  demon- 
strate that  it  cannot  be  a  condition  destitute  of  hope ; 
which  will  show  the  truth  and  force  of  that  Divine 
declaration,  made  in  immediate  connexion  with  the 
promise  of  multiplied  pardon;  "  My  thoughts  are 
not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways, 
saith  the  Lord :  for  as  the  heavens  are  high  above 
the  earth,  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your  ways, 
and  my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts  :"  thus  forci- 
bly enjoining  a  belief,  that  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  will,  in  an  extent  very  far  beyond  our 
reckonings  or  conception,  "  multiply  "  his  pardons. 
I  may,  indeed,  before  adducing  some  of  those  scrip- 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  153 

tural  arguments,  here  premise,  that  if  there  be  Di- 
vine forgiveness  at  all,  it  must  needs  be  thus.  For, 
from  our  inevitable  forgetful ness,  as  creatures,  of  a 
past  multitude  of  sins,  and  also  from  our  incapacity, 
as  sinners,  even  could  we  recall  the  details  and  ag- 
gravations of  them  all,  to  sum  up  the  complex  pro- 
duct,*— to  judge  how  opposed  they  are  to  perfect 
holiness,  and  how  obnoxious  to  unswerving  justice, 
— we  cannot  know  the  greatness  and  the  multitude 
of  the  pardons  requisite  for  us.  Still  less  can  we 
estimate  or  comprehend  any  infinite  attribute  ; 
least  of  all  the  attribute  of  mercy,  "his  beloved,  his 
triumphant  attribute  ;  an  attribute,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, something  more  than  infinite,  for  even  his  jus- 
tice is  so,  and  his  mercy  transcends  that."f  As 
well  therefore  might  "  the  heavens  cease  to  be  un- 
measurably  high  above  the  earth,"  as  our  minds  be 
able  to  compute  or  fathom  those  "forgivenesses" 
which  may  and  will,  by  Him  who  possesses  infinite 
mercy,  be  dispensed. 

But  we  shall  find  that  Scripture  supplies  still 
more  affecting  and  important  arguments.  First  let 
me  inquire — Has  not  God  himself  in  the  latest  and 
fullest  revelation  of  his  will,  most  strongly  incul- 
cated on  us  the  exercise  of  unlimited  forgiveness  to- 
wards each  other  ?  What  duty  was  so  frequently 
and  diversely  enforced  by  our  Saviour  as  this — 
which  was  embodied  in  his  pattern  of  prayer,  urged 

*  See  the  citation  from  Sir  T.  Browne,  p.  142  above, 
t  South.    Serm.  onProv.  iii.  17.    Works,  vol.  i.  p.  21.    Edit.  1704. 


154  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

as  a  direct  precept,  stated  as  an  indispensable  imi- 
tation of  a  Divine  perfection,  and  exemplified  by 
his  own  petition  uttered  on  the  cross?  Besides  all 
these  modes  of  enforcement,  a  singular  question  of 
Peter  ^  seems  to  have  been  ordained,  or  graciously 
overruled,  to  procure  for  the  church,  in  his  Lord's 
answer,  an  assurance  not  to  be  evaded,  that  this 
duty  knows  no  limit ;  that  if  we  would  aim  to  be 
"  merciful  as  our  heavenly  Father  is  merciful," 
(which  is  solemnly  pronounced  essential  to  our 
own  forgivenesSjt)  we  must  be  ever  "  ready  to  for- 
give." It  is  true,  the  parable  which  follows  and 
illustrates  that  answer,  hints,  in  the  contrast  of  the 
hundred  pence  and  the  ten  thousand  talents,  at  the 
inevitably  boundless  disproportion  between  our  ut- 
most mercies,  and  a  small  part  of  the  compassions 
of  our  God.  But  from  this  very  contrast,  from  the 
arguments  and  example  by  which  the  duty  is  en- 
forced, from  the  diversified  injunction  of  it,  and  the 
special  prominence  assigned  it  as  a  grace,  we  are 
surely  compelled  to  draw  the  happiest  inference. 
For  if  it  be  strictly  indispensable  to  the  character  of 
a  good  man,  that  he  be  always,  and  without  limit- 
ation, "ready  to  forgive,"  —  if  the  "followers  of 
God  as  dear  children,"  have  strongly  evinced  that 
readiness, — as  did  Stephen,  "  a  man  full  of  faith  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ^^  when  amidst  the  storm  of  deadly 
assault,  he  cried,  "  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to  their 

*  Matt,  xviii.  21,  22 ;  and  comp.  Luke  xvii.  4. 
t  Matt.  vi.  14,  15,  and  xviii.  35. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  165 

charge," — if  this  was  itself  but  an  imitation  of  Him 
who  in  his  human  character  was  the  "  image  of 
God  "  and  of  Divine  virtues,  and  one  of  whose  latest 
acts  was  to  intercede  for  his  murderers, — and  if  we 
believe  his  word,  that  "  none  is  good  "  (originally) 
"  save  one,  that  is,  God," — if,  also,  we  are  enjoined 
to  be  *'  followers  of  God," —  invited,  and  promised, 
and  declared  to  be  "  renewed  after  the  image  of  Him 
that  created"  us,  commanded  to  be  '^  merciful  as 
He  is  merciful,"  and  "  perfect  as  He  is  perfect," — 
then  would  it  not  be  blasphemous  to  imagine  that 
this  same  excellence  or  grace,  this  gift  "  of  his 
own,"  this  fruit  of  his  Spirit,  so  enjoined  on  the 
children  of  God,  and  partially  exemplified  by  them, 
is  less  than  supereminent  and  infinite  (proportion- 
ably  to  his  transcendent  essence)  in  God  himself  ? — 
If  we,  being  "  evil,"  are  taught  and  commanded 
ever  to  forgive,  and  if  even  fallen  creatures,  under 
the  teaching  of  God's  grace,  have  learned  in  some 
good  degree  this  heavenly  lesson, — is  the  One  great 
Teacher  and  Exemplar  to  fall  beneath  them,  by 
being  less  than  infinite  in  any  exercise  of  moral 
glory?  "  God  requires  of  us"  (writes  Dr.  Owen) 
"  the  forgiveness  of  others  without  bounds.  This 
grace  he  bestows  upon  his  saints,  and  manifests  that 
he  accounts  it  one  of  their  most  lovely  and  praise- 
v/orthy  endowments.  What  then  shall  we  say  ?  Is 
there  forgiveness  with  Him  or  not  ?  He  that  plant- 
ed the  ear,  shall  He  not  hear  ?  He  that  prescribes 
and  bestows  this   grace,  doth   He  not   possess  it  ? 


156  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

This  were  as  much  as  to  say,  though  we  are  good, 
yet  God  is  not  :  though  we  are  benign,  yet  He  is 
not.  He  that  finds  this  grace  wrought  in  him  in 
any  measure,  and  yet  fears  that  he  shall  not  find  it 
in  God  for  himself,  doth  therein,  and  so  far  prefer 
himself  above  God."  * 

You  may  object,  perhaps,  to  the  soundness  or  pro- 
priety of  such  arguments, — that  when  we  are  enjoined 
to  exercise  unlimited  forgiveness,  it  is  in  our  private 
character :  whereas  the  Divine  Being  must  ever 
sustain  that  which  is  sovereign  and  judicial  : — that 
they  also  seem  to  imply  a  sort  of  irreverent  claim,  as 
if  the  Almighty  had  brought  himself  under  an  ob- 
ligation always  to  forgive,  by  commanding  us  always 
to  do  so  ; — and  that  they  would  even,  by  inference, 
tend  to  impugn  the  doctrine  of  Atonement.  But 
let  it  be  considered  (referring  first  to  the  last  part 
of  the  objection)  that  this  great  doctrine  runs 
through  the  whole  Scriptures,  and  especially  through 
those  later  parts  of  them,  whence  the  above  argu- 
ments are  chiefly  drawn  : — that  it  is,  and  can  be  no 
other  than  "  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,"  in  him  "  reconciling  the  world  unto  Him- 
self," of  whom  we  at  any  time  speak  ; — that  it  was 
the  same  Redeemer  who  himself  came  to  remove 
the  only  bar  to  our  forgiveness,  that  likewise  ut- 
tered the  declarations  and  injunctions  cited.  The 
fact  of  His  infinite  satisfaction  to  justice,  is  therefore 

*  On  Psa.  cxxx.  p.  303,  abridged. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  157 

all  along  understood,  and  tacitly  carried  with  us, 
as  obviating  all  impediments  to  the  exercise  of  in- 
finite mercy.  Nor  do  we  vitiate  or  invalidate  our 
reasonings  from  that  glorious  attribute,  by  assuming 
and  including  this  revealed  fact ;  for  the  atone- 
ment or  satisfaction  of  Christ  can  neither  modify 
nor  enhance  that  essential  character  and  disposition 
of  Deity.  On  the  contrary,  it  flow^s  from,  and  is  the 
effect  of  it. 

We  should  notice,  on  this  subject,  that  the  Divine 
Being  is  scripturally  described,  (and  is,  I  think, 
also  necessarily  conceived  of  by  us,)  as  bearing  to- 
ward us  both  the  paternal  and  the  sovereign  rela- 
tion. The  former  is  original  and  intimate  :  much 
more  so  in  one  respect,  than  that  of  human  pater- 
nity, which  is  but  instrumental,  not  creative  :  more 
intimate  also  than  the  relation  of  Deity  to  creatures 
beneath  us,  (though  He  be  in  some  sense  the 
"  Father  of  all ;  ")  for  "  God  said,  Let  us  make  man 
in  our  image,  after  our  likeness."  The  latter — the 
sovereign  and  judicial  relation — is  not  of  such  an 
intimate  kind ;  although  indissoluble,  it  is  but  of- 
ficial ;  if  I  may  reverently  apply  that  term  to  the 
supreme  rule. 

Now  it  is  in  \}a.^  former — in  the  creative  and  pater- 
nal relation — that  we  must  needs  conceive  the  Divine 
Being  infinitely  to  possess  every  essential  perfection, 
every  grace  or  excellency  which  He  enjoins  and  im- 
parts. Even  equity  or  justice  must  be  in  God  the 
Creator  and  Father  of  all,  as  well  as  in  God  the 

p 


158  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

Judge  ;  much  more,  therefore,  mercy  :  though,  for 
this  latter,  there  cannot  be,  m  the  sovereign  and 
judicial  relation,  (without  some  special  provision  to 
prevent  ill  consequence,)  a  room  or  scope  entirely 
unlimited.  This,  I  think,  reason  agrees  vrith  Scrip- 
ture to  teach  us.  We  find  in  the  awful  case  of 
man,  a  great  obstacle  to  it.  By  free  forgiveness  of 
all  transgressors,  even  "  being  penitent,"  without 
some  great  expiation  which  might  indicate,  "  save 
harmless,"  and  make  still  more  venerable  the  claims 
of  justice, — so  that  the  gift  of  remission  should  be 
wholly  without  prejudice  to  these, — the  order  of  the 
moral  universe,  and  honour  of  its  Lord,  would  seem 
unavoidably  endangered.  Even  the  heathen  philo- 
sophers, with  their  imperfect  views  of  sin,  would 
hardly  have  thought  it  safe  or  fit  that  great  offend- 
ers, approaching  the  class  of  Sisyphus,  Tityus,  or 
Archelaus,*'  should  be  freely,  fully,  and  at  once  for- 
given and  blessed,  on  account  of  mere  repentance. 
But  the  infinite  propitiation  of  Christ  affords  a  safe- 
guard and  vindication  of  justice  amidst  the  bound- 
less mercies  of  the  real  and  eternal  Judge.  It  takes 
off  or  annuls  (if  one  may  so  speak)  all  official  hin- 
derances  to  the  free  and  full  effusion  of  essential 
kindness  ;  emancipates  moral  perfection  from  its 
own  restraints  ;  gives  room  to  the  infinite  yearnings 
of  God's  paternal  heart.  And  that  which  prompted 
the  sacrifice,  is  the  essential  "  kindness  and  love  " 

*  See   Plato,  Gorgias  Ed.  Routh,  pp.  294  and  155  — and  Note, 
p.  520. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  159 

of  "  God  our  Saviour,"  himself :  devising  first  a 
wondrous  way  to  remove  the  necessity  imposed  by  a 
Divine  office,  and  to  become  morally  enabled  to  put 
forth  in  act  his  infinite  willingness  to  pardon.  That 
willingness  is  not  produced  by,  but  did  itself  origin- 
ate and  accept  the  sacrifice. 

In  the  well-known  case  of  the  Locrian  lawgiver, 
who  enacted  that  adulterers  should  be  deprived  of 
sight,  and  then  sacrificed  one  of  his  own  eyes,  that 
his  offending  son  might  retain  one,  and  the  law  be 
not  the  less  honoured,  it  is  evident  that  the  same 
"quality  of  mercy"  might  have  dwelt  as  fully  and 
vividly  in  his  heart,  although  he  had  held  that  ex- 
pedient not  available  for  its  end,  or  although  it  had 
been  rejected  by  the  judgment  of  others.  But  in 
"God  the  Judge,"  —  "  glorious  in  holiness,"  —  the 
very  existence  and  early  disclosure  of  that  attribute 
of  illimitable  mercy,  which  he  also  enjoins,  and  in 
part  confers  upon  the  saints,  has  always  predicted 
and  implied  some  great  and^^  po^ovision  for  its  ex- 
ercise, although  long  unexplained.  Such  was  the 
position  of  ancient  believers  with  regard  to  the  atone- 
ment. They  knew  that  there  imist  arise  some  new 
and  efficacious  satisfaction  to  justice,  because  Jeho- 
vah had  proclaimed  "  mercy  for  thousands,"  for- 
giveness of  "  iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin."  They 
had  typical  intimations  of  the  nature  of  this  satis- 
faction. How  far  they  could  interpret  or  apply  these 
aright,  we  know  not.  They  tacitly  assumed,  how- 
ever, and  were  warranted  in  so  doing,  the  removal 
p  2 


160  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

of   all   obstacles   to    pardon   by   Him   who   would 
"  abundantly  pardon." 

Neither  must  the  above  reasonings  be  viewed  as 
if  indecorously  urging  that  the  Supreme  Being  ought 
to  forgive  ;  or  that  a  new  claim  on  Himself  is 
created  by  His  own  injunctions  to  us.  We  do  not 
even  insinuate  this  ;  (any  more  than  that  the  Al- 
mighty ought  to  be  just  or  t7'U€,  because  He  com- 
mands us  to  be  so  ;)  but  we  say  that  the  Perfect  Be- 
ing, who  inculcates  and  inspires  mercy,  must,  by  a 
glorious  necessity  of  nature,  (since  He  actually  has 
removed,  as  it  might  be  confidently  expected  he 
would  do,  all  impediment,)  illimitably  exercise  it. 
Nor  is  it,  I  hope,  improper  to  add,  that  were  this 
otherwise,  then  Jesus  in  praying  for  his  murderers 
— a  prayer  which  must  have  included  their  repent- 
ance as  well  as  forgiveness — would  have  exercised  a 
virtue  enjoined  by  himself  as  Divine,  inspired  also 
by  the  Eternal  Spirit,  but  yet  surpassing  the  reveal- 
ed compassion  of  Deity  ;  which  suppositions  would 
be  not  more  profane  than  confused  and  contradic- 
tory. The  examination,  therefore,  of  such  objections 
(though  they  are  natural  and  of  apparent  weight) 
will,  as  I  judge,  confirm,  instead  of  disturbing,  our 
confidence  in  the  boundless  grace  of  God.  But  then 
it  may  be  further  asked — Does  not  the  analogy  infer 
too  much  ?  For  would  it  not  show,  that  the  Divine 
Being  must  be  expected  to  forgive  even  the  impeni- 
tent, since  our  forgivenesses  are  surely  to  extend  to 
these  ?     We  answer,  God  does  in  one  sense  forgive 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  161 

the  impenitent  whenever  he  forgives,  for  it  is  only.- 
his  mercy  which  makes  them  cease  to  be  so  ;  which 
gives  at  once  both  '^  repentance  and  forgiveness  ; " 
but  the  separation  of  those,  both  the  judicial  charac- 
ter and  the  nature  of  things  forbids.  Even  human 
forgiveness,  though  it  may  be  exercised,  is  not  fully 
felt  and  partaken  as  a  blessing,  by  the  offender  who 
remains  hardened  against  his  brother  that  forgives. 
And  in  reference  to  Deity,  no  expiation,  as  far  as 
we  can  conceive,  could  procure  for  a  being  cofitinu- 
ing  impe7iitent,  an  effectual  participation  and  enjoy- 
ment of  forgiveness.  It  would  be  as  much  as  to  say, 
that  reconcilement  and  alienation  might  consist  or 
coincide. 

If,  finally,  you  press  or  pursue  this  subject  to  the 
awful  question,  Why  does  not  He  who  "  multiplieth 
pardons  "  at  once  make  all  men  penitent,  and  for- 
give them  all, — or  make  all  men  penitent  by,  and 
in,  the  very  act  of  his  forgiveness  ? — we  reply  only 
— Who  can  "  by  searching  find  out  God?" —  It  is 
"  high  as  heaven  ;"  what  can  we  do  ?  "  Deeper 
than  hell  ;"  what  can  we  know?  "  Shall  not  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  "  Let  us  be  ex- 
ceedingly grateful  that  He  confers  on  us  some  de- 
sire and  will  to  repent,  and  that  to  the  penitent,  his 
mercies  are  boundless,  both  as  "  He  giveth  more  " 
of  the  "  grace  "  of  repentance,  and  of  new  remission, 
and  of  new  repentance  still. 

While  engaged  in  meeting  an  objection,  I  have 
thus  incidentally  introduced  that  second  and  most 
p  3 


162  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

forcible  argument  for  infinite  forgivenesses,  which  is 
derived  from  the  act  of  Deity  ;  showing  you  how 
this  inestimable  truth,  of  the  Almighty's  boundless 
placability,  is  demonstrated  in  a  way  that  far  tran- 
scends our  thoughts,  by  the  means  devised  and  em- 
ployed to  make  boundless  pardons  possible  or  fit ; — 
accordant  with  the  inviolability  of  Divine  justice ; 
— namely,  the  humiliation  and  sufferings  of  the  Son 
of  God.  What  pledge  of  Jehovah's  infinite  desire 
to  pardon,  and  unchangeable  "  delight  "  in  mercy, 
could  we  ask  for  or  invent — that  should  equal  or 
approximate  to  this  ?  If  He  who  "  layeth  up  the 
depth  in  store-houses,"  were  to  collect  the  ocean 
into  the  spaces  of  the  sky,  and  pour  it,  drop  by  drop, 
again  into  its  mighty  bed,  and  declare — So  many, 
so  vast,  shall  be  the  multitude  of  my  forgivenesses, 
— would  He  in  truth  proclaim  his  compassion  to  be 
inexhaustible,  with  so  intense  an  emphasis,  as  when 
He  "  spared  not  his  own  Son,"  but  permitted  blame- 
less love  to  agonize,  and  be  poured  forth  drop  by 
drop,  in  the  garden  and  on  the  cross, — saying  with  a 
silent  force  that  rent  the  rocks, — All  tlds,  even  this, 
expressly,  that  I  may,  though  perfectly  righteous,  yet 
"  abundantly  pardon  ; "  only,  that  I  may,  though 
inflexibly  "just,"  yet  *'  justify,"  and  "  sanctify,"  and 
"  glorify  "  the  ruined. 

Once  more,  the  truth  which  is  so  invaluable,  and 
which  is  so  demonstrated,  may  yet  receive  some 
corroboration  from  another  thought ;  namely,  that 
thus  alone  (as  far  as  we  are  able  to  conceive)  can 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  163 

one  great  moral  attribute  of  Deity  be,  in  its  infini- 
tude, exerted  and  displayed.  His  stupendous  power 
and  wisdom  are  perpetually  evinced  in  the  support 
of  an  immeasurable  creation,  which,  at  least  in  part, 
he  declares,  shall  be  imperishable  likewise.  But  in 
what  way  could  the  vastness  of  his  forbearance  and 
mercy  be  occupied  and  made  apparent,  unless  in 
relation  to  fallen,  guilty,  and  miserable  creatures 
whom  He  can  forgive  ? — creatures,  moreover,  whose 
ruin  is  so  verily  "  to  the  uttermost,"  whose  offences 
are  so  great  and  numberless,  that  nothing  except  a 
godlike,  illimitable  grace  can  be  supposed  "  more  to 
abound  ?  "  I  offer  not  this  at  all  as  a  solution  of 
the  Origin  of  Evil  ;  to  which  awful  question  our 
faculties  appear  essentially  incompetent ;  still  less 
as  an  impious  plea  for  "  continuing  in  sin  that  grace 
may  abound,"  a  state  of  heart  dreadfully  incompa- 
tible with  penitence,  and  therefore  with  pardon  : 
but,  simply  taking  the  facts — that  our  sins  are  over- 
whelming, and  that  God's  mercies,  which  are  in- 
finite, have  in  this  our  desperate  case,  their  appro- 
priate sphere  and  scope  of  intervention — I  adduce 
it  as  an  "  exercise  against  despair."  It  is  forcibly 
touched  on  by  Bishop  Taylor  in  a  passage  of  his 
works  so  entitled  ; — "  I  am  taught  to  believe  God's 
mercies  to  be  infinite,  not  only  in  Himself,  but  to 
us ;  for  mercy  is  a  relative  term,  and  we  are  its  cor- 
respondents. Of  all  the  creatures  which  God  cre- 
ated, we  only  "  (he  should  here,  I  think,  have  add- 
ed— so  far  as  we  are  informed)  "  are,  in  a  proper 


164  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

sense,  the  subjects  of  mercy  and  remission. — Since, 
therefore,  man  alone  is  the  correlative  or  proper  ob- 
ject and  vessel  of  reception  of  an  infinite  mercy,  and 
that  mercy  is  in  giving  and  forgiving,  I  have  reason 
to  hope  that  He  will  so  forgive  me,  that  my  sins 
shall  not  hinder  me  of  heaven  ;  or  because  it  is  a 
gift,  I  may  also,  upon  the  stock  of  the  same  infinite 
mercy,  hope  He  will  give  heaven  to  me  ;  and  if  I 
have  it  either  upon  the  title  of  giving  or  forgiving, 
it  is  alike  to  me,  and  will  alike  magnify  the  glories 
of  the  Divine  mercy." ^' — "Were  not  forgiveness 
in  God  "  (observes  Dr.  Owen)  "  somewhat  beyond 
what  men  could  imagine,  no  flesh  could  be  saved  ;"f 
and  elsewhere,  "  God  will  not  lose  the  glory  of 
these  his  excellencies,  he  will  be  revealed  in  them, 
he  will  be  known  by  them,  he  will  be  glorified  for 
them  ;  which  He  could  not  be,  if  there  were  not 
forgiveness  with  Him. "J  '^  Now  this  forgiveness  " 
(he  remarks  in  another  place)  "  is  like  Himself, 
such  as  becomes  Him ;  that  answers  the  infinite 
perfections  of  his  nature ;  that  is  exercised  and 
given  forth  by  him  as  God.  We  are  apt  to  nar- 
row and  straiten  it  by  our  unbelief,  and  to  render 
it  unbecoming  of  Him."  §  And  this,  he  justly 
argues,  is  to  "  dishonour  God,"  as  well  as  "to  en- 
tangle our  own  spirits,  by  limiting  his  grace."  At 
least  this  question,  I  am  sure,  may  be  forcibly  press- 
ed on  every  desponding  mind, — Ought  we  to  be  hope- 

*  Holy  Dying,  ch.  v.  sect.  5.     ("  An  exercise  against  despair.") 
t  On  Psa.  cxxx.,  p.  305.      +  Ibid.  p.  283.      §  Ibid.  p.  309. 


VII.  FROM    SINFULNESS.  165 

less  of  the  extension  to  ourselves  of  a  mercy  in  which 
we  know  that  God  "  delighteth,"  because  we  are  in 
that  very  condition  which  alone  can  give  Him  occasion 
to  display  it  most  admirably,  to  reveal  it  most  divinely  ? 

I  have  thus  attempted  to  bring  under  your  view 
and  my  own,  reasons,  which  appear  unanswerable 
by  any  one  that  believes  the  Bible,  why  the  extent 
of  Divine  "  forgivenesses "  must  needs  transcend 
our  largest  necessities  and  largest  hopes.  Here  then, 
could  we  but  feel  as  we  reason,  are  sovereign  anti- 
dotes against  despair.  Here  is  the  unbounded  and 
unfathomed  ocean  of  God's  mercies,  into  which  we 
should  be  ever  aiming  to  steer  and  impel  our  feeble 
bark  of  hope,  away  from  those  rocky  shallows  of 
our  own  narrow  apprehensions,  where  else  it  must 
presently  be  wrecked  or  stranded.  Give  it  this 
ocean-room,  the  immeasurable  "  breadth,  and  length, 
and  depth  "  of  the  Divine  compassions,  and  then, 
though  every  "  stormy  wind  "  of  terror  beat  upon  it 
with  increasing  fierceness,  none  shall  finally  over- 
whelm or  utterly  destroy. 

I  am  quite  conscious,  however,  that,  in  order  to 
the  happy  and  prevailing  application  of  such  argu- 
ments, we  need  far  more  than  the  mere  statement 
of  them,  or  even  meditation  on  them  ;  we  need  an 
answer  to  more  fervent  prayer ;  that  we  may  be 
"  strengthened  with  might  by  His  Spirit,"  and  thus 
"  enabled  to  apprehend,"  *  more  efiectually,  these 

*  Eph.  iii.  16,  18. 


166  DESPONDENCY    ARISING  VII. 

boundless  and  inspiring  consolations.  Still  must  we 
implore,  without  ceasing,  the  aid  of  that  Eternal 
Spirit,  that  "  Communicative  Love,"  (as  an  old  di- 
vine has  styled  the  heavenly  Comforter,)  to  touch 
our  spirits  with  the  feeling,  though  our  reason  can- 
not grasp  the  thought.  For  it  must  needs  be  with 
this  attribute  of  mercy  as  with  every  attribute  of 
Him  who  is  in  all  things  immense  :  when  it  is  pre- 
sented to  the  intellect,  we  labour  as  it  were  to  grasp 
a  globe  upheld  by  the  enthroned  King  of  kings, 
and  we  discover  only,  as  we  gaze  and  reach  forth 
towards  it,  that  it  is  incomprehensible  ;  that  "  the 
measure  thereof  is  longer  than  the  earth,  and  broad- 
er than  the  sea  :" — yet  let  Him  who  bears  it  deign, 
with  condescending  sovereignty,  to  incline  his  scep- 
tre gently  towards  us, — and  a  quick  radiation  from 
all  that  orb  of  mercy  shall  flow  into  the  heart,  and 
we  shall  feel  with  transport,  in  our  child-like  little- 
ness, what  angels  in  their  elder  greatness  cannot 
comprehend. 

We  may,  as  professed  believers,  have  contem- 
plated this  doctrine  of  superabounding  mercy,  or  at 
least  have  had  it  presented  to  us,  in  modes  and  at 
times  unnumbered.  But  yet  is  it  now,  through  its 
own  augmented  agency  and  power,  poured  into  our 
souls  with  a  new  and  healing  vividness?  Surely  so 
Divine  an  infusion,  if  we  quench  it  not,  will  mightily 
enlarge  and  gladden  them,  will  animate  and  impel 
every  pulse  of  spiritual  life  ;  will  especially  prompt 
us  to  that  growing  forbearance  and  sympathy,  with- 


^'li-  FROM    SINFULNESS.  167 

out  which  we  can  never  advance  in  resemblance  to 
Him  who  "  multiplieth  pardons  ;"  and  will  quicken 
every  aspiration  towards  that  realm  of  love  where 
the  redeemed  must  eternally  emulate  each  other  in 
the  praise  of  his  surpassing  grace. 


VIII. 


ON  THE  PAIN  ENDURED  IN  THE  WANT  OR  LOSS  OF 
SOCIAL  BLESSINGS  WHICH  WOULD  BE  PECULIAR. 
LY  DEAR  TO  US. 

Solitude  is  but  a  comparative  and  indefinite  term. 
The  isolated  Selkirk,  as  his  complaint  is  pathetically 
imagined  by  Cowper,  felt  himself  in  loneliness, 
though  "  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute."  Yet,  had 
his  islet  been  even  by  these  unpeopled,  void  of  all 
other  life,  or  only  of  the  larger  animals,  that  "  mon- 
arch of  all  he  surveyed"  must  have  been  much 
more  desolate  still.  "  Their  tameness  "  was  "  shock- 
ing," but  their  disappearance  would  have  been 
doubly  so  ;  especially  as  he  had  found  means  to  in- 
duce in  some  a  sort  of  attachment  to  himself,  and 
thus  to  indulge,  however  inadequately,  the  social 
and  benevolent  affections.*      Where  solitude   has 

*  See  the  account  of  Selkirk  ^ven  by  Captain  Woodes  Rogers, 
in  Harris's  Voyages. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  169 

been  meant  and  deemed  to  be  cruelly  complete,  the 
discovery  of  but  one  living  inmate  of  the  cell,  even 
a  mouse  or  spider,  has  afforded  solace.  Something 
to  feed  and  welcome,  something  to  be  aided  or  at- 
tracted by  the  captive's  care,  has  been  a  matter  of 
soothing  interest.  To  have  sentient  creatures  round 
us,  which — though  we  may  fastidiously  decline  to 
name  them  y^//oe£;-creatures  —  show  an  instinctive 
sense  that  they  are  the  better  for  our  presence,  is  a 
relief  which  must  needs  make  the  penalty  of  soli- 
tude less  rigorous  and  less  absolute.  But  even  to 
witness  animation  and  enjoyment,  to  watch  the  sea- 
birds  wheeling  round  the  clift',  or  the  herd  resting 
in  the  shade,  though  they  may  see  our  "  form  with 
indifference"  —  and  though  it  may,  in  one  sense, 
aggravate  solitude  to  feel  that  they  all  have  the 
kindred  society  which  to  us  is  wanting — is  yet  a 
source  of  pensive  pleasure.  It  must  have  been  so, 
one  would  think,  to  our  first  parent,  before  his  Eve 
was  formed ;  a  pleasure  felt  indeed  to  be  exceed- 
ingly defective,  but  which  he  would  not  have  lost 
without  regret.  On  the  other  hand,  the  mere  pre- 
sence of  human  beings,  without  any  intercourse — as 
when  we  walk  in  crowded  streets,  and  meet  perhaps, 
through  hours  or  days,  no  one  with  whom  to  inter- 
change a  thought  or  feeling — this,  it  has  often  been 
observed,  if  not  solitude,  is  as  surely  not  society.* 

* "  this  crowded  loneliness, 

Where  ever-moving  myriads  seem  to  say, 
Go — thou  art  nought  to  us,  nor  we  to  thee — away  !" 
^  Keble. 


170  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF 


VIII. 


Yet  how  preferable  this  to  the  compulsory  inter- 
course of  those  from  whom  the  mind  revolts  ;  which 
were  far  worse  than  solitude !  Thus  Trenck  or 
Bonnivard  might  willingly  abridge  the  brief  visit  of 
a  coarse  unfeeling  keeper,  to  resume  their  intimacy 
with  the  little  speechless  comrades  of  the  cell.^ 

Nay,  in  cases  far  removed  from  such,  there  is  a 
sort  or  degree  of  solitariness  which  some  minds  ha- 
bitually endure,  amidst  associations  necessarily  con- 
stant. There  are  those  who  find  in  the  small  social 
sphere  to  which  sex,  or  youth,  or  age,  or  want  of 
wealth  restricts  them,  no  mind  of  like  capacities  or 
tastes,  or  none  possessing  those  highest,  deepest 
sympathies  with  their  own,  which  embrace  "  the 
things  eternal ;"  and  without  which  other  affinities 
of  taste  and  habit  are  but  shallow  and  inconstant. 

Such  privations — where,  by  the  supposition,  deep 
affection,  earnest  sentiments,  and  intellectual  activi- 
ties are  peculiarly  excitable,  but  wholly  ungratified, 
— must  needs  deepen  every  natural  yearning  for  the 
most  intimate  attachments. 

But  let  this  case  be  even  reversed.  Let  the  social 
circle  be  extensive  and  acceptable,  and  nearer  unions 
of  kindred  and  friendship  enjoyed.  Still  may  the 
heart  in  secret  sigh  for  m,ore.  A  tender  or  a  fervent 
spirit  will  often  long  for  that  closest  union,  where 
soul  is  most  intimately  "  knit  with  soul,"  and  where 
confiding  tenderness  can  mutually  unbosom  joys  and 

*  "  Prisoner  of  Chillon ;  "  line  265,  and  1.  381. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  171 

griefs,  interests  and  trials,  from  the  greatest  even  to 
the  least.  Many  are  the  circumstances  which  may 
give  to  this  desire  a  character  at  once  of  intenseness 
and  of  despondency.  Affection  may  find  no  con- 
genial object,  or  it  may  be  unresponded  to,  and 
even  unknown.  Disparities  of  rank  or  years,  local 
remoteness,  prudential  checks,  regretted  differences 
of  religious  or  secular  connexion,  may  repress  its 
indulgence  ;  or  death  may  soon  and  fatally  break  its 
charm.  These,  no  doubt,  are  chosen  themes  of  ro- 
mance ;  but  they  are  not  unworthy  of  a  place  in  pages 
dedicated  to  truth  ;  for  the  mental  pains  which  they 
involve  are  keenly  real,  and  must  occur  in  all  grades 
of  society  that  rise  above  the  lowest  form  of  barbarism. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  class  of  privations  to  which 
we  now  refer.  From  her  days  of  whom  Elkanah 
asked  "  Why  weepest  thou?"  and  the  earlier  times 
of  the  disconsolate  Rachel, — how  many  hearts,  in 
which  the  maternal  pulse  v/as  beating  with  almost 
predictive  warmth,  have  mourned  to  be  childless  : 
some,  no  doubt — though  we  trust,  in  these  latter 
days,  with  submission  befitting  the  heirs  of  clearer 
promises — praying  earnestly  for  the  gift  deferred. 
If  it  be  finally  denied,  bitter  is  the  disappointed 
wish,  as  pure  as  it  was  ardent :  if  bestowed  only  to 
be  resumed,  still  keener  is  the  stroke  by  which  God 
'*  hath  taken  away,"  what  seemed  to  the  parent  al- 
most her  earthly  all. 

Not  seldom  does  more  than  one  of  these  wants 
or  losses  contribute  to  darken  an  individual's  lot. 
Q  2 


172  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

But  let  only  one  such  be  assigned ;  and  no  heart 
affectionately  susceptible  will  be  able  to  conceal  from 
itself  the  pain  of  destitution.  Often  might  we  hear, 
if  thought  were  audible,  the  secret  musing — How 
would  that  tender  friendship,  that  treasure  of  affec- 
tion which  is  hopeless  or  for  ever  gone,  soothe  un- 
blamably  the  cares  of  life,  and  sweeten  all  its  com- 
forts ;  how  would  it  sustain  me  in  griefs  and  avert 
my  steps  from  snares,  engage  me  in  benevolent  and 
tender  duties,  excite  the  happiest  thoughts,  and 
quicken  the  most  sacred  purposes  ! 

And  there  is  much  general  truth  in  these  feelings 
and  expectations.  It  is  quite  true  that,  by  the  good 
pleasure  of  Him  who  ordaineth  our  lot,  such  ac- 
quisitions might  induce  a  great  diminution  of  pre- 
sent trial,  and  a  great  accession  of  usefulness  and 
enjoyment.  In  very  many  cases,  therefore,  is  it  not 
only  allowable  but  commendable,  to  seek  and  to 
pray  for  these  blessings. 

But  yet  how  true  likewise  is  the  adage  often  re- 
peated by  an  old  divine,  and  (though  it  may  seem 
to  the  inexperienced  or  inconsiderate  a  sort  of  jejune 
truism)  how  important  also  ; — "  Creatures  are  help- 
less things  without  God  ;  for  every  creature  is  that, 
all  that,  and  only  that,  which  He  makes  it  to  be  !  "  ^ 
In  applying  this  maxim  to  our  present  subject,  we 
need  not  suggest  those  strong  or  extreme  cases, 
where  the  most  ardent  wishes,  the  most  sanguine  and 

*  Matthew  Henry  on  2  Kings  vi.  27.  A  like  saying  had  been 
common  with  his  excellent  father,  Philip  Henry. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  173 

even  pious  hopes,  have  issued,  by  the  very  fulfilment 
of  their  aim,  in  utter  and  heart-sickening  disap- 
pointment,— where  passionate  or  deep  attachment, 
apparently  mutual,  indulged  perhaps  at  the  cost  of 
personal  sacrifices,  or  perhaps  by  procurino;  such 
from  its  object, — has,  ere  long,  been  wounded  by  an 
unkindness  that  would  have  seemed  incredible,  or 
has  led  to  spiritual  declensions  and  moral  aberra- 
tions the  most  unhappy.  Nor  need  we  dwell  on 
those  deplorable  instances  in  which  a  child,  whose 
birth  or  whose  recovery  was  once  matter  of  intense 
solicitude,  has  proved  no  Samuel,  but  rather,  like 
the  sons  of  Eli ;  piercing  a  parent's  heart  with 
many  sorrows.  We  may  advert  to  facts  and  cir- 
cumstances much  less  melancholy  than  these,  and 
yet  suflBicing  to  mar  or  disfigure  the  ideal ;  to  rend 
or  soil  the  faultless,  but  slight  embroideries,  with 
which  a  creative  imagination  invests  some  of  life's 
most  genuine  pleasures. 

It  is  affectingly  true,  that  in  minds  where  the  ca- 
pacity to  weave  this  enchanting  scenery  is  greatest, 
where  the  woof  is  of  gossamer  and  its  tints  are  of 
ethereal  glow,  there  must  the  contact  of  reality  most 
surely  disarrange  or  discolour  it.  So  that  the  very 
minds,  which  feel  at  times  those  privations  and 
yearnings  of  the  affections  most  deeply,  may  often, 
after  their  wishes  are  favourably  realized,  be  most 
acutely  perceptive  and  tremblingly  sensitive  as  to 
the  differences  between  the  idea  and  the  substance, 
the  picture  and  the  landscape.  The  magic  tints  of 
Q  3 


174  pai;n  in  the  want  of  viii. 

the  visionary  painting  did  not  change  ;  or  the  change 
was  but  as  a  variation  of  loveliness,  from  spring  to 
autumn,  or  sunlight  to  a  soothing  shade ;  but  the 
real  landscape  must  have  its  days  of  mistiness,  and 
its  hours  of  tempest.  Discoveries  and  experiences 
of  weakness,  the  collisions  of  practical  life  and  fluc- 
tuations of  daily  feeling,  misapprehensions  to  which 
our  weak  and  limited  reason  is  ever  liable,  distrac- 
tions and  thwartings  of  the  work-day  world,  in- 
firmities and  faults  of  childhood  and  of  manhood, — 
all,  in  short,  on  which  an  eloquent  writer  founded 
her  impressive  testimony  that  "  Life  is  not  a  hymn," 
—  has  been  discerned  and  felt  with  especial  acute- 
ness  by  some  who  had  endured  the  deepest  previous 
pain  at  the  delay  of  those  enjoyments  which  make 
life  most  poetic.  The  presentiment  or  bare  suspicion 
of  such  deductions,  may  avail  to  check  the  unchast- 
ened  vehemence  both  of  wishes  and  regrets. 

Yet  many  whose  emotions  we  thus  would  mode- 
rate— nay  even  the  more  reflective  and  foreboding, 
schooled  in  the  illusions  and  the  pains  of  life,  and 
thus  most  wont  to  take  refuge,  when  joys  are  de- 
nied, in  the  forethought  of  probably  attendant  sor- 
rows— will  doubtless  feel  and  say — These,  after  all, 
are  pleas  for  resignation  which  serve  much  more  to 
deject  or  exacerbate  than  to  satisfy.  Besides,  there 
must  be  fallacy  in  a  view  of  things  which  persuades 
us  to  acquiesce  in  foregoing  the  best  and  tenderest 
pleasures,  on  the  single  ground  that  they  are  sure 
to  be  alloyed  and  interrupted,  if  not  extinguished,. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  175 

by  some  contingent  pains.  On  the  same  ground, 
the  want  of  liberty,  of  learning,  of  competence,  of 
reason,  nay  perhaps  of  revelation  itself,  might  be 
paradoxically  pleaded  for  as  a  matter  of  preference. 

Others  will  add,  with  an  afflictive  remembrance 
of  the  past — -You  would  console  by  cheerless  possi- 
bilities, but  I  mourn  over  heart-rending  facts.  I 
know  by  sad  retrospect,  that  the  comforts  of  affec- 
tion may  be  enjoyed,  without  any  considerable  share 
of  those  abatements  by  which  you  would  detract 
from  their  anticipated  worth.  —  This,  however,  is 
to  imagine,  that  we  would  unduly  extenuate  that 
worth,  or  dissuade  from  the  acceptance  of  such 
blessings ;  whereas  it  is  really  a  quite  different  aim 
to  remind  those  from  whom  Providence  withholds 
them,  that  these,  like  all  temporal  enjoyments,  can- 
not be  unmingled. 

But  I  dismiss  these  unwelcome  themes  of  conso- 
lation. I  assume  these  privations  to  be  as  grievous 
as  you  sometimes  feel  them  :  I  grant  that  they  also 
might,  if  it  pleased  the  great  Arbiter,  be  so  sup- 
plied, that  there  should  be  no  sharp  thorns  or 
weighty  crosses  hidden  in  the  delightful  gifts.  Yet 
this  very  supposition,  welcome  as  it  may  be  to  the 
mind  in  which  such  hope  is  warmly  cherished,  must 
speedily  conduct  and  compel  us  toward  those  high- 
est and  final  resources  for  comfort,  to  which  all 
others  are  at  best  but  subsidiary.  For  the  more 
assured  we  could  be,  that  refined  and  exquisite 
earthly  gratifications,  z/'possessed,  or  winle  possessed. 


176  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

would  for  US  be  unalloyed  and  untarnished — the 
more  depressing  the  thought  of  their  hourly  pre- 
cariousness,  of  their  swift  and  certain  extinction ; 
unless  as  Christians  we  attempt — what  none  but 
Christians  can  afford  or  dare — to  gather  comfort  in 
destitution  (felt  or  feared)  from  the  transitoriness  of 
all  possession,  and  pluck,  as  it  were,  some  leaves  of 
healing  from  the  very  nightshade  of  mortality.  If 
this  brief  life  were  all,  then  truly  were  its  selectest 
joys  and  deepest  griefs,  its  hopes  and  wants  and  de- 
solations, but  of  small  account ;  its  most  chosen  and 
endeared  delights  but  a  poor  fugitive  decaying  all. 
The  pensiveness  and  refinement  which  feel  and  ren- 
der these  most  precious,  would  render  them  also 
melancholy  treasures.  The  "  thought  of  death  " 
which  hovers  upon  all  the  fairest  forms  and  muta- 
tions of  nature,  and  finds  a  home  in  every  poetic 
heart,  would  wear  irretrievably  a  spectral  darkness  ; 
and  we  should  say  to  each  enjoyment  as  Herbert  to 
his  rose — the  more  hopelessly  in  proportion  as  it 
were  bright  and  sweet  and  thornless, — 

"  Thy  root  is  ever  in  its  g;i-ave, 
And  thou  must  die," 

If  this  life  were  our  all,  and  known  to  be  so,  then 
indeed  to  be  inconsolable  for  its  whole  ascertained 
penury  and  wretched  mystery  were  inevitable  and 
just ;  but  it  would  not  be  worth  the  while  to  sigh 
over  its  fleeting  variations,  its  momentary  differences 
or  contrasts.    We  might  be  well  too  sad  or  desperate 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  177 

to  weep  over  the  want  or  loss  of  pleasures  fatally 
evanescent,  which  at  best  could  but  tantalize  and 
excruciate  us  with  their  dying  sweetness. 

But  when  we  "know  and  are  persuaded"  that 
this  life  is  not  all — nay,  that  it  is  but  "  the  twilight 
of  our  day,"  the  dim  and  narrow  "  vestibule  "  of 
our  existence, — then  does  the  very  fleeting  character 
of  its  enjoyments  present  a  pensive  source  of  conso- 
lation under  the  want  of  them  ;  which,  while  thus 
made  more  impressively  conspicuous,  is  also  thus 
half  divested  of  its  gloom.  The  boundless  radiance 
of  immortality,  while  it  contracts  the  '*  vapour"  that 
"vanisheth  away"  into  a  less  hand's-breadth  than 
the  prophet  saw  from  Carmel,  softens  and  gilds  the 
"  little  cloud  "  which  it  diminishes. 

To  toil  or  glide  onward  through  our  "  few  and 
evil "  days,  without  the  dearest  of  created  blessings 
to  soothe  us,  is  to  want  that  which,  were  it  our  all, 
would  be  next  to  nothing  to  possess,  but  which,  be- 
ing not  all,  will  be  viewed  hereafter  as  next  to 
nothing  to  have  lacked  ;  as  the  by-gone  absence  of 
too  little  a  portion  of  happiness  to  miss  ;  a  sort  of  in- 
finitesimal, heretofore  subtracted  from  the  sum  of 
endless  joy.  Inestimable  as  it  might  have  been 
"  for  a  moment,"  still  would  the  privation  be  too 
momentary  to  be  at  all  counted  in  retrospect,  if  it 
were  not  that  it  must  be  counted  gratefully  ;  since 
each  cross  which  God  appoints  us  here,  however  in 
itself  "  unworthy  to  be  compared  "  or  mentioned 
there,  will  be  seen  to  have  had  a  high  prospective 


178  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF 


VIII, 


value  towards  heightening  subsequent  felicity.  The 
best  earthly  joys  that  are  withholden,  are  as  grains 
of  gold  snatched  by  a  descending  angel  from  life's 
swift  and  troubled  stream.  You  mourn  that  you 
find  them  not :  but  they  are  stored  and  combined 
elsewhere  ;  they  shall  form  those  golden  vessels  of 
the  heavenly  sanctuary,  whence  you  may  take  "of 
the  fountain  of  life  freely."  For  it  must  never  be 
forgotten,  that  these  wants  or  losses,  which,  though 
indeed  but  transitory,  are  often,  in  our  narrow  mor- 
tal view,  protracted  as  well  as  severe,  have  been 
adapted  and  designed  to  fix  profoundly  in  our  hearts 
the  unalterable  truth  —  that  Uncreated  Good  can 
alone  have  an  original  and  immutable  reality  ; — to 
incite  our  wavering  desires  after  this  "  one  Good — 
that  is  God  ;"  and  convince  us  that,  in  the  uncloud- 
ed experience  of  his  everlasting  favour,  there  is  a 
bliss  which  infinitely  outweighs  all  joys  of  finite  af- 
fection :  nay,  that  the  glimpses  and  prelibations  of 
that  bliss,  when  it  shall  please  Him  who  "  is  Love" 
to  indulge  with  these  the  vigilant  and  waiting  spirit, 
will  amply  compensate  every  other  privation  even 
here.  And  yet  the  pain  of  such  privations — -which, 
so  far  from  being  culpable,  indicates  the  strength  of 
benevolent  and  kindly  feeling  —  may  itself  not  ob- 
scurely intimate,  that  the  God  of  love  will  hereafter 
employ  his  perfected  creatures  as  reciprocal  media 
of  those  pure  joys  which  must  owe  their  origination, 
fulness,  and  perpetuity,  to  Himself  alone.  For  I 
strongly   dissent   from   what    a  few   philosophizing 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  179 

theologians  have  appeared  to  hold — that  the  high- 
est and  final  attainment  of  bliss  in  the  perfect  love 
of  God,  will  involve  the  cessation  of  subordinate 
affections.  To  imagine,  under  whatever  colour 
of  devout  sublimity,  "  that  among  the  blessed  in 
heaven  all  love  of  the  creature  does  utterly  cease, 
and  is  for  ever  silenced  in  that  region  of  happi- 
ness,"^ is  not  only  to  presume  '*  above  that  which 
is  written,"  but  to  wander  beyond  the  region  of 
common  sense. 

It  is  assuredly  lawful  and  right,  that  we  love  our 
fellow  beings  not  only  with  a  love  of  good-will,  but 
with  a  love  of  esteem  and  complacency  as  far  as  they 
bear  and  reflect  the  Divine  image,  and  with  a  love 
of  gratitude  as  far  as  they  are  instrumentally  valu- 
able and  benevolent  towards  us ;  and  it  is  contrary 
both  to  all  analogy  and  many  scriptural  intimations, 
to  suppose  that  either  of  these  sentiments  will  be 
extinct  in  heaven  :  nay,  that  they  will  not  each  be 
multiplied,  enhanced,  and  blissfully  animated  there. 
The  excellent  Shaw  seems  in  like  manner  to  err  by 
an  excess  of  devotional  aspiring,  when  he  affirms 
that  "  we  shall  come  to  live  upon  God  and  delight 
in  God  alone,  without  any  creature  ; "  f  that  "  the 
holy  soul  shall  feed  upon  Him  singly,  live  upon 
Him    entirely,  be   wrapt   up    in    Him    wholly ;  "  J 

*  Norris's  "  Letters  coucerning  the  love  of  God,"  (1695,)  p.  168. 
t  Angelical  Life  —  in  the  "  Mourner's  Companion,"  (Chalmers 
and  Collins,)  p.  366. 
+  Ibid.  p.  351. 


180  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

alleging  also  that  "  angels  delight  not  in  any  created 
comfort,"^  and  that  the  perfected  saints  will  thus 
"  equal  "  them,  in  being  "  abstracted  from  all  cre- 
ated things,"  so  that  the  creature  *'  shall  be  no- 
thing at  all  to  them  or  in  them."t  Much  more 
scriptural  and  tenable  is  this  devout  writer's  lan- 
guage when  he  only  censures  "  living  upon  the 
creature,  or  a  loving  of  the  creature  with  a  distinct 
love;" J  and  adds,  "to  taste  a  sweetness  in  the 
creature,  and  to  see  a  beauty  and  goodness  in  it,  is 
our  duty  :  but  then  it  must  be  the  sweetness  of  God 
in  it,  and  the  goodness  of  God,  which  we  ought 
alone  to  taste  and  see  in  it."§  The  precept  is  just, 
though  lofty,  which  he  quotes  and  enforces — "  In 
a  particular  being,  love  the  universal  Goodness  :  let 
the  whole  world  be  as  the  garden  of  God  to  you, 
from  which  you  may  drink  something  of  the  Divine 
sweetness."  II  But  surely  that  temper,  while  fitly 
suggested  as  earnestly  to  be  pursued  on  earth,  is 
likewise  the  only  one  revealed  to  us  as  subsisting  in 
heaven.  When,  going  beyond  this,  it  is  attempted 
to  imagine  either  "  ministering  spirits,"  or  "glori- 
fied heirs  of  salvation,"  as  having  reached  a  further 
and  absolute  abstraction  from  the  creature,  we  alter 
the  scriptural  notion  of  their  social  state  of  bliss, 
without  any  ground  to  believe  that  we  substitute 

*  Angelical  Life  —  in  the  "Mourner's  Companion,"  (Chalmers 
and  Collins,)  p.  350. 

t  Ibid.  p.  350.  +  Ibid.  p.  35G. 

§  Ibid.  p.  357.  II   Ibid.  p.  376. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  181 

a  State  which  would  be  really  more  perfect  or  exalt- 
ed. Doubtless,  "the  blessed  and  only  Potentate" 
could  create  beings  who  should  be  fully  and  for  ever 
blessed  in  the  exclusive  contemplation  of  Himself: 
each  unacquainted  with,  and  incapable  of  knowing, 
the  existence  of  any  creature  ;  conscious  only  to  the 
beatific  presence  of  an  infinite  Parent  and  Preserv- 
er. Possibly,  amidst  the  multiform  wonders  of 
creation,  there  are  found  such  lonely  yet  happy  in- 
telligences, whose  peculiar  mode  of  blessedness  may 
be  designed  to  impress  most  strongly  on  other  or- 
ders of  the  happy,  the  perfection  of  the  Divine  All- 
sufficiency. 

It  may  be, — in  some  "wilderness  of  suns," 
Some  heavenly  Polynesia,  calmly  bright, 
Where  scarce  a  breath  the  odorous  forest  waves, — 
Such  eremites  muse ;  enrapt  eternally 
In  the  sole  vision  of  the  boundless  Mind. 
Created  impercipient ;  needing  nought 
From  hues  or  forms  or  fragrance,  or  the  swell 
Of  holiest  harmonies  in  starry  vales, 
Or  glancings  of  the  seraph's  eye  divine  : 
But  ever  and  alone  the  fount  of  life 
Imbibing,  ere  its  hidden  fulness  gush 
In  wellings  of  creative  splendour  forth  ; 
Bath'd  ever  in  that  inmost  plenitude ; 
Amid  the  primal  and  translucent  depths 
Of  glorious  wisdom  and  enrapturing  love. 
Latent,  to  these,  all  worlds  :  yet  not  themselves 
Unseen,  nor  by  the  hymning  seraph  view'd 
With  imaugmented  fervours  ;  visible 
Like  hallow'd  luminous  statues,  softly  crown'd 
R 


182  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

With  evening  starlight :  too  absorb' d  in  bliss 

For  local  change,  yet,  through  the  varying  mood 

Of  blissful  contemplation,  still  instinct 

With  gesture  most  emphatic,  and  quick  gleam 

And  changeful  shade  of  meditative  joy  : 

Till  e'en  celestials  kindle  as  they  gaze, — 

Then  marvel  how  th'  unconscious  can  have  touch' d 

The  chords  that  wake  a  thousand  thousand  songs. 

— These  too,  perchance,  e'en  lowlier  creatures  eye 

With  half  intelligent  fondness,  or  recede 

In  wistful  awe.     The  swift  and  gorgeous  bird 

From  some  far  paradise,  on  rainbow  plume 

Slow  floats — and  stays  her  warblings — fain  to  watch 

The  hermit  spirit's  beauty. 

But  much  more 
The  saints,  creation's  nobler  pilgrims,  pause 
When  guiding  angels  point,  to  linger  o'er 
The  solitary's  rapture  ;  where — entranc'd 
In  his  interior  heaven — to  eyes  unseen, 
And  realms  unknown,  his  voiceless  ecstasy 
Proclaims  the  immense  and  all-sufficing  God ; 
Who,  should  he  shroud  with  an  impervious  veil 
This  universe,  and  every  happy  mind 
From  happy  minds  dissociate,  would  seclude 
Each  in  a  Father's  bosom  ;   each  insphere 
Within  that  orb  of  glories  increate, 
That  uncaus'd  universe  whence  nature  sprang. 

Such  beings  are  imaginable  ;  but  their  existence, 
if  not  unlikely,  at  least  is  unrevealed.  The  only 
state  of  happy  spirits,  whether  angelic  or  human, 
which  Scripture  discloses,  is,  as  was  before  remarked, 
a  social  state.  We  may  conclude,  indeed,  that  all 
have  their  optional  solitudes — perhaps  attainable 
without  new  or  separate  locality  by  a  power  of  com- 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  183 

plete  mental  abstraction, —  in  which  they  enjoy  ex- 
clusively the  contemplation  of  Deity.  But  this 
opinion  arises  from  our  experience  of  change  as 
heightening  enjoyment — a  condition,  it  may  be,  of  all 
finite  natures  ;  and  from  a  sense  of  the  great  limit- 
ation of  our  own  faculties  ;  not  from  anything  in- 
trinsically better  or  loftier  in  that  supposed  abstrac- 
tion. For  we  know  that  in  Him  who  is  essentially 
perfect,  the  highest  and  happiest  contemplation 
must  consist  with  eternal  omniscience,  perpetual 
omnipresence,  universal  and  unsuspended  agency. 
We  know,  also,  and  every  lasting  hope  and  joy  are 
built  upon  the  fact,  that  the  love  and  complacency 
of  this  glorious  Being  are  ever  fixed  on  an  "  innu- 
merable company"  of  sinless  and  renewed  crea- 
tures. Therefore,  although  there  can  be  no  propor- 
tion to  this  Divine  capacity  in  any  finite  mind,  yet 
assuredly  the  nearest  resemblance  and  approxima- 
tion to  the  mind  of  our  infinite  Creator  and  Sa- 
viour, must  be  sought,  not  in  abstraction  from  crea- 
tures or  indifference  towards  them,  but  in  the  very 
reverse. 

Besides  which,  it  is  obvious  to  inquire,  wherefore 
that  associated  state  which  is  revealed  to  us ;  why 
that  "  innumerable  company  of  angels ;"  why  that 
"general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born;" 
if  it  be  not  in  order  to  enhance  felicity  ?  Even  if  it 
could  be  shown  that  glorified  saints  reciprocate  no 
love,  except  that  of  mere  benevolence  or  good-will, 
would  it  be  affirmed  that  there  is  no  joy  in  thisloye. — 
R   2 


184  PAIN    IN    THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

the  very  love  which  moved  Him  who  "  delightetJi 
in  mercy,"  to  confer  "  His  unspeakable  gift ;"  and 
our  Redeemer  to  endure  the  cross  ? — But  further, 
mutual  love  of  this  kind  between  creatures,  neces- 
sarily involves  a  mutual  love  of  gratitude ;  nor 
would  it  be  less  than  unnatural  and  presumptuous 
to  suppose  the  absence  of  that  other  love,  which 
consists  in  esteem,  admiration,  and  complacency, 
towards  those  who  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly 
Saviour,  and  are  presented  "  faultless  before  his 
throne."  And  why  should  either  of  these  senti- 
ments —  either  a  benevolent  or  grateful  or  com- 
placent affection  —  towards  perfect  creatures,  be 
deemed  to  interfere  with  supreme  love  to  God,  or 
even  with  ultimate  love  to  Him  in  the  very  act  of 
intermediate  love  to  them  ?  It  is  finely  said  by  the 
writer  above  cited,  "  Every  particular  good  is  a 
blossom  of  the  first  goodness  ;  every  created  excel- 
lency is  a  dark  draught  of  God,  and  a  broken  beam 
of  this  infinite  Sun  of  righteousness."*  But  would 
it  be  a  just  consequence  that  there  is  to  be  no  ad- 
miration, love,  or  joy,  in  viewing  the  reflected  or 
refracted  beam  ? 

If  some  erring  devotee  of  Surya-f-  were  gifted 
with  an  eye  more  unblenching  than  we  deem  the 
eagle's,  able  to  fix  with  unfatigued  admiration  on 
the  sun's  fullest  blaze,  would  it  follow  that  he  must 

*  Angelical  Life,  in  ibid.  p.  376. 

t  The  title  of  the  sun  in  Hindu  mythology.  See  Sir  W.  Jones's 
Poems,  vol.  ii.  p.  93. 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  185 

do  this  unceasingly, — or  would  not  the  vision  of  that 
"  great  light "  be  virtually  continued,  although  not 
direct,  when  he  should  turn  to  look  upon  "  the  sea- 
wave's  multitudinous  smile,"  *  "  the  moon  walking 
in  brightness,"  or  the  "  pearled  and  rubied  clouds," 
where 

"  Myriads  of  diffusive  dyes 
Stream  o'er  the  tissued  skies  ?  "  f 

Would  he  be  likely  to  forget,  amidst  these  brilliant 
reflections  and  refractions,  the  day-spring  which 
first  shed  forth  and  still  renews  their  splendour  ?  or 
would  that  lunar  mirror  and  that  rubied  cloud,  and 
"  many-twinkling  smile  of  ocean,"  each  prepare 
him  to  turn  to  the  sun  itself  with  a  deeper,  though 
deluded,  reverence  1 

And  when  you  shall  look  in  heaven  upon  angelic 
"  ministers  of  grace,"  or  on  some  dear  object  of 
whom  you  are  now  bereft,  or  whom  you  loved  in 
untold  sadness  because  the  sentiment  could  not  be 
expressed,  or  could  not  be  mutual ;  when  you  shall 
find  all  excellencies,  real  or  ideal,  which  you  had 
conceived  in  creatures,  verified  and  far  transcended, 
and  every  pure  and  blameless  ardour  shall  awake  in 
the  intimate  society  of  those  whom  Jehovah  has 
caused  to  reflect  perfectly  his  glorious  image, — will 
the   beatific   and    adoring   vision   of  the   "  Sun  of 

*  See  this  fine  phrase  of  ^schylus  quoted,  with  the  different 
version  of  it  which  is  added,  "  the  many-twinkling  smile  of  ocean," 
in  the  "  Christian  Year." 

t  Sir  W.  Jones's  Poems,  vol.  ii.  p.  101. 
R    3 


186  PAIN    IN     THE    WANT    OF  VIII. 

righteousness"  be  by  such  objects  or  feelings  sus- 
pended ?  and  although  it  should  be  less  constantly 
direct  or  exclusive,  will  it  not,  by  these  alternations, 
acquire  at  one  season  a  milder  loveliness,  at  another 
a  sublimer  majesty  ?  When  you  shall  thus  associate 
with  perfect  creatures,  it  is  true  you  will,  so  far, 
admire  and  love  the  "  shadows  of  that  glorious  es- 
sence with  whom  there  is  no  shadow  of  change."* 
It  will  be  in  some  sense  but  a  *'  bright  cloud  "  of 
heavenly  "  witnesses  "  which  shall  encompass  you  ; 
but  in  its  "  myriads  of  diffusive  dyes"  you  will  ve- 
nerate that  plastic  all-pervading  brightness,  which 
can  give  even  to  the  cloud  an  ever-during  beauty, 
varying  yet  indissoluble. 

Be  consoled  then  under  the  vanished  hopes,  the 
unfulfilled  wishes  and  repeated  wounds,  which  you 
have  suffered  and  may  yet  endure.  "  The  hour 
Cometh "  when,  without  any  infringement  of  su- 
preme devotedness  to  the  Author  of  all  good,  you 
shall  give  to  glorified  creatures  a  love  alike  pure 
and  fervent ;  mediately  to  them,  but  ultimately  to 
Him ;  feeling  that  all  their  moral  and  material 
beauty  is  in  itself  derivative,  but  in  Him  unchanging; 
in  them  also  destined  to  be  permanent,  because  it  is 
his  will  and  promise  that  it  shall  not  decay.  Anti- 
cipate the  unreserved  endearment,  the  perfect  love 
of  heaven,  as  means  by  which  the  God  of  grace  will 
manifest  his  beneficence  and  glory.     "  Remember 

*  Shaw's  "  Angelical  Life,"  p.  377,  in  the  "  Mourner's  Com- 
panion." 


VIII.  SOCIAL    BLESSINGS.  187 

how  short  the  time  is,"  ere  the  dejection  of  a  lonely 
heart  may  he  exchanged  for  the  full  sunshine  of 
blessedness,  and  all  that  living  and  love-breathing 
imagery,  which  shall  reflect  and  variegate  its  beams. 
Till  then,  may  "  the  Lord  direct  your  heart  into  the 
love  of  God,  and  into  the  patient  waiting  for  Christ.'* 


IX. 


ON  ADVERSITIES  IN  PECUNIARY  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Notwithstanding  a  great  number  of  distressing 
facts  which  wear  the  contrary  aspect,  it  is  soothing 
to  conchide  on  the  whole,  that  the  order  of  Divine 
Providence,  and  the  progress  of  human  affairs  un- 
der that  hidden  administration,  are  lessening  from 
age  to  age  the  general  sum  of  violent  and  extreme 
adversity. 

The  civilization  and  science,  the  public  spirit  and 
prudential  foresight,  which  have  grown  with  the 
growth  of  enlightened  Christianity,  form  a  sort  of 
lower  parallel,  in  temporal  benefits,  to  the  sublimer 
blessings  which  the  gospel  has  diffused  ;  so  that  its 
complex  influence  is  seen  to  have  abated  the  inse- 
curities and  terrors  of  "  the  life  that  now  is,"  as 
well  as  those,  more  momentous,  of  "  that  which  is 
to  come." 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  189 

There  is  in  this  concurrence  an  obvious  fitness 
and  harmony.  It  yields  a  kind  of  collateral  pledge 
for  the  loftier  promises  of  that  "  godliness/'  which 
"  is  profitable  unto  all  things."  There  would  have 
been  some  discordancy,  had  a  religion  which  pre- 
dicts, even  for  this  world,  an  era  of  glorious  peace 
and  blessedness,  rendered  meantime  the  social  and 
individual  state  of  man  more  and  more  calamitous 
on  the  whole. 

It  is  well,  therefore,  to  recollect  with  gratitude 
and  hope,  how  far  that  is  from  being  the  fact.  In 
what  may  be  specially  termed  the  ages  and  domains 
of  Christian  civilization,  those  dreadful  visitations 
of  disease  have  become  less  multiplied  and  less  de- 
structive, which,  by  striking  most  awfully  at  human 
life,  "  shake  terribly  "  the  whole  social  fabric  :  and 
although  a  grievous  scourge  of  this  kind  has  re- 
cently filled  many  parts  of  our  land  with  mourning 
and  others  with  dismay,*  yet  I  trust  we  may  regard 
its  desolations  as  actually  far  less  wide,  and  its 
speedy  recurrence  or  long  duration  as  far  less  pro- 
bable, than  they  would,  by  the  unchecked  operation 
of  natural  causes,  have  been  at  remote  periods. 
In  the  fourteenth  century,  and  in  each  of  the  four 
successive  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James,  and  the  first 
and  second  Charles,  this  island  was  ravaged  by  pes- 
tilences which,  in  the  extent  of  their  depopulating 
havoc,  were  greatly  more  terrific. 

*  See  note,  p.  6,  above. 


190  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

The  horrors  also  of  famine,  which  in  the  first- 
named  century  were  dreadfully  experienced  in  Eng- 
land, have  been  rendered  much  less  an  object  of 
dread,  not  only  by  a  better  regulated  industry,  but 
by  the  resources  of  a  vastly  extended  intercourse 
with  distant  nations. 

It  should,  doubtless,  be  far  more  solemnly  and 
submissively  remembered  than  it  is — in  reference  to 
both — that  we  are  ever,  and  most  absolutely,  "  in 
the  hand  of"  Him,  who  could  give  to  "  his  sword  " 
the  pestilence,  a  quite  unsparing  commission,  or  in- 
flict, on  every  region,  simultaneous  and  protracted 
barrenness.  But  we  do  not  omit  to  feel  and  ac- 
knowledge that  "  very  great  are  His  mercies,"  when 
we  attribute,  instrumentally,  the  rareness  and  miti- 
gations of  those  dire  distresses,  to  such  advance- 
ments in  society  as  have  attended  on  His  higher 
gift ; — themselves,  therefore,  equally  ordinations  of 
His  undeserved  goodness; — yet  the  natural  and 
happy  effects  of  which.  He  could,  at  any  moment, 
and  in  any  measure,  frustrate. 

In  the  same  order  of  concomitance  with  Christian 
civilization,  have  massacre  and  rapine  become  less 
prevalent  in  war ;  *  feuds,  assassinations,  and  out- 

*  We  trust  also  that  war  itself,  in  states  blessed  with  enlightened 
Christianity  and  civil  freedom,  becomes  yearly  more  an  object  of 
moral  aversion  and  political  opposition ;  that  governments  are  be- 
coming themselves  more  wise  on  this  great  point,  and  will  at  all 
events  find  their  "  subjects  wise  "  enough  henceforth  to  check  the 
cruel  "  game  "  prompted  by  reckless  ambition,  or  by  a  spirit  adverse 
to  conciliation  and  fairness. 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  191 

rages,  more  rare  in  times  of  national  peace  ;  pillage 
and  palpable  extortion  have  been  checked  by  set- 
tled laws  ;  conflagrations  have  grown  less  frequent 
and  incontrollable  :  and  against  the  effects  of  these, 
as  of  some  other  losses,  securities  have  been  devised, 
by  which,  though  the  love  of  gain  might  invent 
them,  the  cause  of  humanity  is  served.  I  select 
one  minor  instance,  (casually  presented  to  me,)  of 
the  frequency  of  one  kind  of  those  calamities;  which, 
perhaps,  may  be  more  impressive  than  general  state- 
ments as  to  all  of  them . 

It  appears  from  the  annals  of  one  of  our  most 
ancient  cities,  that  of  Gloucester,  (which  happen  to 
come  under  my  notice  while  writing  this  piece,) 
that,  during  the  first  century  from  the  Norman  in- 
vasion, it  was  four  times  destroyed  by  fire,  and  in 
the  following  century  as  often  \  though  if  any  place 
could  be  safe  by  precaution  or  protection,  it  might 
be  one  where  kings  often  held  their  courts,  and  pre- 
lates their  synods. 

If  we  meditate  on  the  plagues  and  fires,  the 
dearths,  the  oppressions,  and  intestine  wars  of  earlier 
history,  we  shall  not  be  very  prone  to  conclude — 
"  the  former  times  were  better  than  these." 

Has  it  then  ceased  to  be  true,  that  "  man  is  born 
to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards  ?  "  Are  sudden, 
conspicuous,  and  extreme  reverses  gone  out  of  date, 
or  can  modern  prudence  wholly  ward  off  or  remedy 
them  ?  The  memory  of  our  own  day  of  revolutions 
and  convulsions  strikingly  proclaims  the  negative. 


192  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

How  many  have  yet  a  strong  remembrance  of  that 
epoch  when  princes  and  dignitaries  from  the  nearest 
continental  shore  took  refuge  here  from  public  tu- 
mult and  threatened  destruction ;  stripped  of  their 
estates,  palaces,  and  honours,  and  forced  to  engage 
in  irksome  employments  for  a  dubious  support !  (n 
the  year  1793,  the  present  sovereign  of  France,  then 
the  young  and  destitute  Due  de  Chartres,  a  member 
of  one  of  the  most  ancient  reigning  families,  travel- 
ling with  a  single  domestic,  on  foot,  over  the  snowy 
Alps,  approached  the  hospitable  convent  of  St.  Go- 
thard.  "  He  rang  the  bell,  and  a  capuchin  appear- 
ing at  the  window  asked  in  Italian — What  do  you 
want?  Some  nourishment  for  my  companion  and 
myself,  replied  the  wanderer.  We  do  not  re- 
ceive foot-passengers  or  persons  of  your  sort  here, 
rejoined  the  capuchin.  But,  reverend  father,  we 
will  pay  what  you  demand  —  said  the  duke.  No, 
no,  the  inn  opposite  is  good  enough  for  you,  said  the 
monk ;  and  pointing  to  a  miserable  shed  where 
the  muleteers  stop  for  refreshment,  he  closed  the 
window,  and  disappeared."*  Surely  this  one  slight 
scene  might  teach  us,  that  the  account  of  vicis- 
situdes incident  to  greatness  three  thousand  years 
ago  —  "He  poureth  contempt  upon  princes,  and 
causeth  them  to  wander  in  the  wilderness  wherein 
there  is  no  way  " — has  not  become  wholly  inappli- 
cable by  the  lapse  of  ages. 

*  Lady  Morgan's  "  France."  —  A  fine  painting  commemorates 
this  occurrence. 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  193 

But  we  need  not  go  to  the  houses  and  memoirs  of 
sovereigns,  in  order  to  seek  a  fair  and  fit  applica- 
tion of  the  phrase,  "  He  poureth  contempt  upon 
princes."  The  prophet  Isaiah's  language,  in  his 
vivid  picture  of  "  Tyre  the  crowning  "  —  "  whose 
merchants  are  princes,  whose  traffickers  the  hon- 
ourable of  the  earth,"*'  has  become  singularly  appo- 
site to  those  of  Genoa  and  Venice  in  their  turn,  and 
still  is,  in  some  points,  to  those  of  our  own  "  mer- 
chant cities."  Yet  we  have  seen  the  successors  of 
the  Dorias  and  Durazzos  tenanting  obscure  corners 
of  their  splendid  palaces  ;  and  of  late  years,  in  our 
own  country,  how  many  have  been  cast  down  as  by 
an  earthquake,  from  the  refinements  of  education 
and  of  luxury  to  the  hard  and  bitter  trials  of  de- 
pendence !  If  some  of  my  readers  have  become  ac- 
quainted with  such  a  change  experimentally,  they 
will  feel  as  if  other  forms  of  kindred  disaster  should 
scarcely  be  compared  with  that  of  the  class  in 
which  they  are  numbered  ;  and  may  imagine,  per- 
haps less  justly,  that  some  aggravations  of  circum- 
stance or  character  give  to  themselves  individually 
a  sad  pre-eminence  of  sufiiering  even  among  that 
class. 

There  are,  however,  other  modes  and  degrees  of 
pecuniary  adversities,  in  some  respects  much  less 
severe,  and  yet  not  trivial,  which  especially  belong 

*  xxiii.  8. 

S 


194  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

to  our  own  times  and  country  ;  consisting  not  in 
sudden  and  total  overthrow,  but  in  a  quiet,  partial, 
continued  subtraction  of  means  and  resources.  It 
may  be  not  inaptly  expressed  in  the  Scripture  phrase 
which  precedes  that  lately  quoted  ;  "  They  are  min- 
ished  and  brought  low ;  "  a  phrase  descriptive, 
more  or  less,  of  the  present  condition  of  multitudes  ; 
applicable,  in  a  painful  sense,  to  that  of  many  who 
never  possessed  more  than  a  very  small  share  of  this 
world's  goods,  who  moved  in  a  lowly  sphere,  and  ac- 
quired their  daily  comforts  by  daily  exertions.  Yet 
these  they  did  acquire,  with  moderate  toil  and  tran- 
quil regularity,  obtaining  "  food  and  raiment,"  and 
the  simplest  conveniences  of  life,  with  little  fear 
that  the  sources  of  supply  would  be  interrupted  or 
reduced.  But  national  or  local  changes,  the  con- 
sequences of  public  policy  or  of  others'  private  ruin, 
of  war,  or  peace,  or  mechanical  inventions,  have 
gradually  brought  them  to  a  state  of  penury ;  if  not 
an  actual  destitution  of  things  "  needful  for  the 
body,"  still  an  anxious  difficulty  in  procuring  these  ; 
with  measures  of  hardship,  dependence,  and  priva- 
tion, which  they  never  expected  would  be  mingled 
in  their  lot. 

Another  class  less  numerous,  but  still  not  small, 
and  more  likely  perhaps  to  meet  with  these  remarks, 
is  that  of  persons  who  have  been  in  what  are  termed 
"  easy  circumstances,"  either  employing  their  pro- 
perty in  respectable  kinds  of  trade,  or  placed  above 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  195 

the  necessity  of  any  such  aid  for  their  support. 
Many  of  these  were  heretofore  fairly  ranked  among 
the  rich ;  according  to  what  seems  the  truest  defini- 
tion of  that  word, —  the  having  a  competent  dispos- 
able surplus  above  those  claims  which  the  Jit  habits 
of  our  social  station  lay  upon  us.  But  they  have 
ceased,  by  a  succession  of  changes,  to  be,  in  this 
sense,  rich.  Their  means  have  variously  failed  and 
been  contracted  ;  and  while  they  have  seen  some, 
who  were  at  the  summit  of  affluence  and  display, 
whirled  suddenly,  with  broken  reins  and  a  fearful 
crash,  into  the  valley,  they  have  found  themselves 
led  from  their  much  less  lofty  position,  not  hastily 
or  ungently,  perhaps,  but  by  a  strong  hand,  far 
down  the  hill-side.  They  may  still  have  consider- 
able means  and  many  comforts.  They  want  not 
^\food  convenient."  But  they  are  checked  in  their 
former  scale  of  liberal  and  hospitable  expense, 
though  it  was  never  at  all  ostentatious,  nor  was 
thought  improvident.  They  are  become  less  able 
"  to  do  good  and  to  communicate  ;  "  and  they 
anxiously  foresee  that,  should  this  train  of  minor 
but  successive  assaults  on  their  always  moderate 
prosperity  be  continued,  they  must  at  length  be 
painfully  straitened.  Such  changes  and  prospects 
are  of  various  shades  as  well  as  from  different 
causes  ;  but  even  of  those  who  in  the  less  degrees 
experience  them,  it  may  be  said — "They  are  minish- 
ed," — if  not  with  equal  truth, — "They  are  brought 
s  2 


196  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

low."  It  will  also  be  felt  by  themselves,  and  should 
not  be  forgotten  by  those  whom  more  ruinous 
losses  have  overthrown,  that  these  lesser  adversities 
are  painful,  as  being  scarcely  known  or  reckoned 
on  except  by  those  who  encounter  them.  Where 
they  do  not  compel  or  warrant  that  decisive  and 
visible  change  of  habits,  which  duty  or  expediency, 
or  both,  may  prevent  or  retard,  they  produce 
little  or  no  change  in  the  external  estimate  of  cir- 
cumstances ;  they  receive  therefore  little  or  no  sym- 
pathy, and  are  met  with  little  or  no  allowance. 
The  other  instances  to  which  I  have  adverted  are 
of  a  more  broad  and  striking  character  :  but  this 
last  sketch  may  be  verified  by  not  a  few  with  sad- 
ness, as  that  of  their  own  unwelcome  though  unno- 
ticed allotment. 

To  render,  however,  such  dispensations  the  less 
unwelcome  and  depressing,  nay  in  some  respects  to 
reverse  their  influence,  is  an  oflice  to  which,  if  ever 
any  moral  system  can  be  so,  the  Christian  system 
must  be  competent.  The  old  philosophy  boldly 
affected  to  perform  it,  and  not  without  some  suc- 
cess ;  but  the  gospel  undertakes  the  task  with  in- 
comparably greater  power ;  and  if  we  are  not,  in  a 
measure,  thankful  learners,  the  weakness  of  our 
faith  is  of  necessity  betrayed.  With  regard  to  that 
primitive  body  of  believers  whose  rise  and  sufferings 
the  New  Testament  records,  so  far  were  they  from 
being  distinctly  encouraged,  like  the  Mosaic  church, 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  197 

by  a  hope  of  temporal  indulgence, — so  far  from  re- 
ceiving any  pledge  of  immunity  from  worldly  trial, 
— that  adversities  were  to  them  a  special  matter  of 
their  Lord's  prediction  and  promise;  were  to  be 
marks  of  genuine  discipleship  and  paternal  adop- 
tion ;  and  were  made  both  by  Christ  and  his  apos- 
tles a  subject  of  beatitude. 

This,  we  may  observe  in  passing,  yields  strong 
presumptive  confirmation  to  the  claims  advanced 
by  the  exalted  Founder  of  our  faith ;  to  his  con- 
sciousness of  the  reality  and  force  of  his  own  cre- 
dentials ; — that  he  hesitated  not  to  propose  to  a  peo- 
ple enamoured  of  wealth  and  pleasure,  a  religion 
linked  to  calamities,  and  ofiPering  no  secular  prize 
or  allurement.  None,  surely,  but  He  who  was  giving 
miraculous  proofs  that  He  could  heal  and  resuscitate 
and  pardon,  and  was  about  to  ratify  those  proofs 
by  his  own  triumph  over  death,  could  have  afford- 
ed to  invite  and  attach  followers  with  that  strange 
and  gloomy  promise,  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have 
tribulation  ;  "  or  with  the  austere  command,  "  Sell 
all  that  thou  hast,  and  follow  me."  We  are  not  in- 
deed thence  to  infer,  that  the  possession  of  ease  or 
wealth  is  incompatible  with  the  reception  of  Christ's 
gospel,  any  more  than  that  an  exemption  from 
violent  persecution  annuls  the  character  of  a  dis- 
ciple. Neither  penury  nor  martyrdom  were  in- 
variable accompaniments  of  Christian  faithfulness, 
even  in  the  first  age.  The  church  had  then  its 
s  3 


198  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  its  Gaius  and  Philemon.  No 
one,  however,  can  study  the  general  tenor  of  the 
Christian  institute,  without  perceiving  that  we  ought 
not  to  "  think  it  strange"  if,  as  followers  of  Christ, 
we  be  "  minished," — or  even  "  brought  low." 

Yet  it  may  be  that  we  are  sometimes  much  in- 
clined to  think  it  so ;  since  the  contention  and  bias 
of  nature  are  often  too  strong  for  the  submissive 
conclusions  of  grace.  You  may  say — If  these  ad- 
versities had  assailed  me  while  I  was  still  estranged 
from  God,  and  spurning  or  slighting  the  message 
of  his  reconciling  love,  I  could  readily  interpret 
them  as  a  salutary  though  stern  discipline  for  bring- 
ing me  to  the  revealed  refuge  :  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  have  gathered  and  pressed  around  me, 
long  since  I  had  embraced  that  refuge,  and  had 
aimed  to  realize  in  daily  habit  the  principle  of  con- 
secrating temporal  blessings  to  the  service  of  my 
Lord.  He  was  pleased,  indeed,  for  a  time,  to  smile 
on  me  by  the  growing  favours  of  his  constant  pro- 
vidence ;  but,  in  later  periods,  "  all  these  things 
are  against  me ;  "  and  the  change,  besides  being 
adverse  to  my  usefulness  as  well  as  comfort,  is  not 
apparently  in  all  respects  conducive  to  personal  im- 
provement ;  since,  by  fomenting  tempers  of  dissatis- 
fied regret  and  unquiet  foreboding,  it  rather  impedes 
and  distracts  my  Christian  course. 

Doubtless,  if  we  unhappily  misuse,  or  are  not 
watchful  duly  to  interpret  and  improve,  these  and 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  199 

Other  "  manifold  "  trials,  they  may  all  acquire  that 
lamented  tendency  ;  but  it  would  be  not  the  less 
true  that  they  were  both  graciously  designed,  and 
accurately  measured,  as  indispensable  for  our  eter- 
nal good.  Indeed,  if  we  trust  in  the  care  of  a  "  re- 
conciled God  and  Father,"  it  cannot  be  questioned 
that  these  adversities  were  fit  and  requisite,  though 
their  uses  should  happen  to  be  quite  beyond  our  con- 
jecture ;  especially  when  we  observe  that  some  of 
them  have  been  made  to  originate  from  counsels 
and  transactions  of  our  own  which  had  an  aim  pre- 
cisely opposite,  and  in  themselves  appeared  quite 
legitimate  and  promising ;  when  losses  have  arisen 
from  the  very  steps  cautiously  and  plausibly  taken 
for  prevention  of  loss  ;  from  the  errors  of  friendly 
and  experienced  advisers  ;  or  from  connexions 
formed  on  discreet  and  disinterested  principles. 
Issues  so  adverse,  and  so  little  calculable,  seem  to 
indicate,  that  it  was  in  the  plan  of  Providence  to 
frustrate  our  reasonable  expectations ;  and  this  no 
doubt  for  important  ends,  were  they  ever  so  latent. 

But  some  general  and  important  uses  of  pecuniary 
checks  and  disappointments,  even  to  real  Christians, 
are  surely,  by  the  help  of  revelation,  not  undiscover- 
able  or  obscure. 

Such  modes  of  adversity  will  practically  remind 
you,  though  by  a  very  distant  approach  to  resem- 
blance, of  the  earthly  condition  of  our  Divine  Sa- 
viour ;    and  by  this  suggestion  itself  you  may  be 


200  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

taught,  that  they  are  appointed  to  constitute,  in  your 
case,  a  means  and  part  of  conformity  to  Him.  Are 
they  slight  and  unobserved  as  compared  with  the 
violent  reverses  of  some  others  1  Still,  if  you  acute- 
ly or  pensively  feel  them,  if  your  latent  pride  be 
wounded,  and  your  complacency  disturbed,  will  you 
not  appreciate  with  new  wonder  "  the  mind  which 
was  in  Christ  Jesus  ? "  Will  you  not  of  necessity 
reflect  —  Am  I  reluctant  to  be  somewhat  circum- 
scribed and  "  minished,"  and  did  the  Lord  of  all 
things  freely  consent  to  be  "  brought  low  ?  " 

Are  you,  on  the  other  hand,  more  conspicuously 
or  decidedly  humbled  ?  Have  you  been  cast  down 
from  a  state  of  wealth  and  comparative  dignity,  to 
that  of  narrow  supplies  and  dependent  endeavours  ? 
If  we  even  addressed  a  mendicant  prince  or  a  de- 
serted sovereign,  a  second  Belisarius  in  penury,  or 
Dionysius  in  exile,  we  should  have  still  to  ask,  not 
in  the  spirit  of  insult  or  insensibility,  but  with  a  de- 
sire to  condole  and  to  animate, — have  you  heard  of 
or  remembered  that  "  Prince  of  life,"  that  *'  King 
of  kings,"  who  "  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  but 
took  on  him  the  form  of  a  servant  ? "  —  who, 
"  though  he  was  rich "  in  all  the  splendours  of 
Deity,  "  for  our  sakes  became  poor,"  assuming  our 
frail  and  necessitous  nature  with  all  its  wants  and 
sorrows  ? — That  "  great  mystery  of  godliness,"  in- 
deed, transcends  not  only  our  comprehension,  but 
still  more  our  subject.     There  would  be  something 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  201 

little  less  incongruous  in  comparing  to  it  the  most 
signal  and  total  of  mere  human  reverses,  than  the 
most  ordinary  and  mitigated.  We  have  rather  to 
contemplate  now,  that  preference  by  our  Saviour, 
among  human  conditions,  of  poverty  and  lowliness, 
which  is  so  memorable,  and  was  doubtless  meant  to 
be  so  monitory.  I  am  very  far  from  judging,  (and 
have  indeed  already  guarded  against  the  inference,) 
that  all  followers  of  Christ  must  needs  endure,  more 
or  less,  this  particular  kind  of  adversities,  in  order 
to  an  essential  conformity  with  Him.  The  "  Father 
of  our  spirits  "  has  various  methods  at  his  choice,  by 
which  substantially  to  produce  and  develope  that 
conformity.  He  can  "  minish  "  or  impoverish  in 
bodily  health  ;  in  mental  vigour  ;  in  the  treasures 
of  friendship  or  of  reputation  ;  and  in  either  way 
sufficiently  conform  his  adopted  children  to  the 
image  and  sufferings  of  Him,  who  was  "  the  first- 
born among  many  brethren." 

Yet  it  is  evident,  that  when  trials  of  the  same 
kind  are  appointed,  when,  instead  of  riches  having 
been  unimpaired,  or  gainful  occupation  having  in- 
creased, they  have  been  diminished  or  have  disap- 
peared, then  are  we,  in  one  respect,  led  more  to- 
wards the  footsteps  of  our  Master.  And  what 
Christian  can  resolvedly  wish  and  deliberately  pray, 
(notwithstanding  the  secret  conflict  often  in  his 
heart,)  that  this  sort  of  approach,  which  after  all 
may  be  still  but  distant,  had  not  been  ordained  ? 
Who  that  has  read  and  in  any  measure  believed 


202  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

those  words  of  Jesus,  "  It  is  enough  that  the  servant 
be  as  his  Lord?  "  or  the  words  of  Paul,  "  If  we  suf- 
fer with  him  we  shall  also  reign  with  him  ?  " 

But,  amidst  the  inward  conflict  to  which  I  have 
adverted,  it  will  perhaps  be  urged — Since  we  cannot 
be  (as  you  just  now  admitted)  conformed  to  the  hu- 
miliation of  our  Redeemer  fully — so  far  from  it,  that 
his  must  ever  remain  infinitely  greater — why  these 
particular  adversities  in  addition  to  many  more  ?  or 
why  so  severe  in  degree  ?  or  wherefore  in  this  succes- 
sive and  continued  form  ? 

Let  it  first  be  called  to  mind,  that  these  particu- 
lar adversities  have  ever  constituted  a  frequent 
ingredient  of  those  very  trials  with  which  the  Al- 
mighty has  seen  meet  to  visit  not  a  few  of  his  dis- 
tinguished servants.  It  is  true,  this  part  of  their 
afflictions  is  in  a  great  measure  withdrawn  from 
notice  amidst  the  more  prominent  and  keener  dis- 
tresses which  it  has  accompanied.  But  was  it, 
therefore,  the  less  real  ?  When  the  wealth  of  that 
Arabian  prince  and  patriarch  on  whom  "  the  bless- 
ing of  the  perishing  had  come,"  and  who  had 
"  caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing,"  was  quickly 
devastated  by  repeated  strokes, —  had  this  kind  of 
calamities  the  less  of  intrinsic  rigour,  because  thrown 
into  the  shade,  as  it  were,  by  grievous  disease  and 
bereavement  and  reproach?  —  When  the  chosen 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  who  had  probably  till  then 
enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  life,  suffered  in  his 
new  career   "  the  loss  of  all  things,"  so  as  some- 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  203 

times  to  hunger  and  thirst  and  be  insufficiently 
clothed, — were  these  privations  the  less  real  because 
we  almost  lose  sight  of  them — as  he  also  sometimes 
might — amidst  imprisonments  and  scourgings,  and 
murderous  assaults  from  those  whom  he  toiled  to 
save  ?  In  the  first-mentioned  hardships  Paul  was 
but  the  forerunner  of  a  cloud  of  witnesses  and  con- 
fessors, who  "took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their 
goods."  We  are  prone  in  their  case,  as  in  his,  to 
overlook  that  species  of  adversities,  just  because  it 
is  eclipsed  by  others  still  more  grievous.  But, 
again  I  would  ask,  was  the  forfeiture  of  property, 
or  the  loss  of  profitable  employ  and  comfortable 
support,  the  less  afflictive  in  itself,  because  then  at- 
tended with  stripes  or  cruel  mockings,  mutilation, 
or  exile  ?  Yet  these  were  persons  whom  our  Saviour 
emphatically  pronounced  "  blessed."  Your  experi- 
ence, it  is  probable,  even  as  to  one  kind  of  adversi- 
ty among  the  many,  will  scarcely  bear  comparison 
with  theirs  :  but  were  it  equally  severe,  would  this 
at  all  imply  unkindness  on  his  part,  who  thus  dealt 
with  apostles,  with  evangelists,  with  the  noble  army 
of  martyrs,  and  who  meanwhile  bade  them  "  rejoice 
and  be  exceeding  glad?"  You  will  object,  per- 
haps, that  their  trials,  as  being  for  the  name  and 
cause  of  Christ,  were  tests  and  demonstrations  of 
fidelity,  and,  therefore,  grounds  of  joy  ;  but  that 
yours  are  devoid  of  this  consolatory  character.  Re- 
member, however,  that  when  it  has  pleased  God  to 
remove  such  persecutions,  they  can  no  longer  form 


204  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

the  test  of  Christian  faith  and  constancy.  A  sub- 
missive and  grateful  endurance  of  those  afflictions 
which  are  common  to  all,  (but  of  which  believers 
may  usually  expect  an  ample  share,)  with  a  special 
reference  to  their  Master's  will,  must  be  now  amongst 
the  strongest  proofs  of  their  allegiance  and  their 
trust.*  Could  you  then,  upon  a  serious  review, 
whether  of  church  history  or  of  Scripture  predic- 
tions, deem  it  a  clearer  token  of  your  Saviour's  love 
and  care,  if  the  tide  of  worldly  prosperity  had  been 
always  rising,  if  the  gale  of  success  were  ever  with 
you  ? 

But  while  it  behoves  you  to  feel  and  to  acknow- 
ledge, that  He  who  "  careth  for  you  "  must  "  do 
right,"  and  also  that  appointments  which  are  in 
unison  both  with  his  personal  example  and  distinct 
predictions,  may  be  presumed  accordant  with  his 
most  gracious  purposes,  it  will  be  more  satisfying 
if  you  can  also  discern  other  weighty  and  merciful 
reasons  for  these  appointments.  And  how,  with 
the  New  Testament  before  us,  with  its  assurances 
that  the  grand  object  of  God's  dispensations  is  to 
detach  us  from  this  world,  recall  us  to  Himself, 
prepare  us  for  eternity — together  with  some  observ- 
ation of  mankind  and  knowledge  of  ourselves — 
how  shall  we  fail  to  discover  such  reasons  ?     In  the 


*  Archbishop  Leighton  intimates,  that  "  a  private  despised  af- 
fliction, without  the  name  of  suffering  for  his  cause,"  borne  "  gladly," 
is  among  the  highest  tests. 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  205 

tempers  and  habits  which  unchecked  prosperity  so 
often  generates,  what  a  commentary  do  we  find  on 
the  various  warnings  of  the  gospel  as  to  the  danger 
of  abounding  in  riches !  Not  that  instances  are 
wanting,  either  ancient  or  modern,  of  good  men 
who  may  have  passed  quite  unhurt  through  this 
ordeal.  The  "father  of  the  faithful,"  and  Job  in 
his  redoubled  wealth,  and  a  Thornton  and  Reynolds 
in  our  own  times,  could  be  "  very  rich,"  not  only 
without  "  shipwreck  of  faith  and  of  a  good  con- 
science," but  perhaps  without  being  the  less  spiritu- 
ally-minded, or  desiring  the  less  earnestly  "  a  better 
country."  The  question,  however,  still  remains, 
— Have  we  any  reason  to  be  confident  that  such 
would  have  been  our  own  case  ?  No  one,  I  suppose, 
could  frame  the  presumptuous  expectation  or  extra- 
vagant wish,  that  God  might  bestow  on  him  corre- 
spondent measures  of  wisdom  and  of  grace,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  as  safe  and  spiritually  prosperous 
as  some  of  those  very  wealthy  believers.  This  would 
be  prescribing  its  methods  to  Divine  sovereignty 
with  a  boldness  which  strongly  evinced  the  need  of 
humiliation.  We  must  accept  our  measure  as  it  is ; 
both  of  natural  tendencies,  and  spiritual  gifts  :  and 
then  ask, — If  that  share  of  means  which  God  in- 
trusted to  me  had  been  yearly  augmented,  or  yearly 
undiminished,  does  it  appear  likely  that  I  should  not 
have  "trusted"  more  in  this  world's  possessions? 
Is  it  probable  that,  amidst  an  accession  of  worldly 
prosperity,  or  even  with  no  ebb  and  interruption  of 

T 


206  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

it,  I  should  have  embraced  the  gospel  so  firmly  ?  Can 
I  even  assure  myself  that  as  good  and  right  a  use 
would  have  been  made  by  me  of  the  larger  gifts  of 
Providence  as  is  now  made  of  the  less? — It  will 
assist  us  perhaps  in  this  inquiry,  to  remember,  how 
we  have  in  past  life  actually  been  carried  by  certain 
positions  of  affairs  or  impulses  of  the  mind,  into 
aims  and  undertakings,  both  laudable  and  the  con- 
trary, which  at  other  periods,  both  previously  and 
since,  we  could  never  have  expected  to  pursue  or  to 
achieve  ;  for  we  shall  thus  in  some  sort  judge  how 
greatly, — how  far  beyond  all  present  calculation, — 
certain  differences  in  the  course  and  turn  of  our 
affairs  might  have  changed  the  current  of  our  pur- 
poses, the  nature  of  our  connexions,  and  "  the  spirit 
of  our  minds."  Besides,  are  you  conscious,  as  it  is, 
of  no  unfaithfulness  towards  God  in  temper  or  in 
practice  ?  Have  you  never  had  reason,  while  pro- 
fessing to  be  his,  to  appropriate  to  yourself  that 
ancient  charge,  "  My  people  have  forsaken  me,  the 
fountain  of  living  waters,  and  have  hewn  out  to 
themselves  cisterns  ?  " —  Has  there  been  no  need  for 
you  to  be  feelingly  convinced,  that  these  cisterns  are 
"  broken,"  or  fragile?  When  God  has  disappointed 
you  as  to  worldly  wealth,  he  has  in  effect  broken 
one  of  the  chief  cisterns  which  you,  or  others  before 
you,  have  diligently  hewn.  Possibly  he  has  over- 
thrown it  at  a  stroke  ;  "  dashed  it  to  pieces  like  a 
potter's  vessel  : "  more  probably  he  has  let  the  con- 
tents in  part  escape  by  unseen  flaws ;  or  filter  away, 


IX.  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  207 

as  it  were,  through  the  very  pores  of  the  reservoir. 
If  it  had  been  quite  otherwise,  if  you  had  hewn 
more  capacious  cisterns,  and  sculptured  and  adorn- 
ed them,  and  no  flaw  had  yet  been  detected,  would 
you  have  been  so  likely  to  return  in  humility  to 
Him  who  says,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come 
unto  me  ?  " 

Connecting  these  considerations  with  the  former, 
may  it  not  be  still  the  more  confidently  expected 
of  you  as  a  Christian  —  that  whatever  regrets,  or 
even  repinings,  you  may  sometimes  be  possessed 
with  on  account  of  pecuniary  adversity,  you  will 
even  then  utterly  shrink  from  adopting,  uncondi- 
tionally, the  presumptuous  prayer, — Restore,  O  Fa- 
ther of  mercies,  the  gifts  which  Thou  hast  taken 
away,  or  hast  caused  to  make  to  themselves  wings 
and  fly? — When  you  contemplate  the  brevity  and 
precariousness  of  this  life, — when  you  meditate  on 
His  wisdom  and  compassion,  who  alone  can  be  our 
"guide  even  unto  death," — you  will  "covet  earn- 
estly "  no  gift  but  "  the  best : "  spending  your  fer- 
vour in  that  noble  prayer,  "  Lord  !  lift  thou  up  the 
light  of  thy  countenance  upon  us  ;  " —  conscious  that 
the  Author  of  all  good  can  thus  put  more  gladness 
in  your  heart,  than  ever  was  conferred  by  the  abund- 
ance and  increase  of  earthly  possessions.  And  while 
you  so  "  ask  "  of  Him  who  is  "  our  portion  for  ever," 
who  alone  can  teach  us  unwaveringly  to  choose,  and 
fit  us  eternally  to  enjoy,  that  all-sufficient  portion, — 
you  will  try  to  sum  up  your  desires  and  regrets  as 
T   2 


208  PECUNIARY    ADVERSITIES.  IX. 

to  things  temporal,  in  the  words  of  Him  who  en- 
dured the  cross  ;  "  Not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt : " 
— nor  need  we  scruple  to  associate  with  them  a 
poet's  beautiful  declaration  : — 

"  Give  what  Thou  wilt,  without  Thee  I  am  poor, 
And  with  Thee  rich,  take  Avhat  Thou  wilt  away." 


X. 


ON  THE  FEARS  OF  A  WIDOWED  MOTHER. 

A  HEAVY  burden  has  devolved  upon  you  ;  and  we 
know  it  presses  hard  on  a  wounded,  desolate  spirit. 
You  feel  that  the  lost  companion,  who,  even  from 
the  first,  so  kindly  and  intimately  shared  it,  would, 
in  coming  and  distant  years,  if  spared  to  you,  have 
borne  a  much  weightier  and  more  indispensable 
portion  of  the  load.  As  yet,  indeed,  it  may  be,  you 
have  only  to  watch  over  a  helpless  and  unconscious 
charge  :  but  though  this  includes  many  actual  cares, 
you  cannot  limit  your  solicitude  to  the  passing 
hour.  While  the  busy  and  gentle  hand  fulfils  its 
offices,  the  more  busy  and  restless  heart  expatiates 
through  the  dubious  future.  Yoa  glance  onward 
to  those  months,  when  the  little  one,  now  playfully 
engrossed  with  his  cowslips  or  his  pencil,  shall  have 
risen  into  youth,  and  must  incur  the  incompensable 


210  FEARS    OF    A  X. 

want  of  paternal  judgment  and  restraint,  through 
all  the  steps  of  tuition,  and  in  the  choice  of  destina- 
tion for  life.  Or  you  look  on  those  whose  *'  delicate- 
ness  and  tenderness  "  time  will  less  diminish  ; — and 
while  your  own  impaired  health  may  forebode  the 
uncertainty  of  their  remaining  parent's  days,  you 
meditate  on  the  trials  and  hazards  of  orphan  daugh- 
ters with  a  still  deeper  sigh.  Your  resources  also 
for  the  support  and  benefit  of  those  so  beloved  and 
so  dependent,  (it  is  likely,)  have,  by  the  same  event, 
been  painfully  abridged  ;  and  you  predict  with  sad- 
ness how  much  more  this  will  be  felt,  as  their  occa- 
sions for  aid  shall  progressively  augment  and  multi- 
ply. But  this  is  not  all.  You  are  a  Christian  ; 
and  your  inmost  solicitude  contemplates  interests 
that  extend  beyond  the  boundaries  of  time.  You 
desire  intensely  and  supplicate  continually,  the 
spiritual  and  endless  happiness  of  those  so  dear. 
That  stroke  of  bereavement  which  has  marred  your 
earthly  comforts  and  aggravated  all  your  cares,  has 
too  keenly  graven  in  your  heart  the  thought  of 
eternity,  for  it  to  be  long  obscured  ;  and  you  there- 
fore anticipate  with  a  new  dread  those  moral  dan- 
gers of  the  world,  in  which,  as  they  advance,  the 
cherished  objects  of  your  care  must  mingle.  You 
foresee,  for  those  who  will  have  to  enter  on  its  ac- 
tive pursuits,  inevitable  contact  with  its  deceits  and 
perils  ;  and  sometimes  a  trembling  anxiety,  at  once 
for  their  temporal  and  eternal  welfai-e,  and  for  that 
fortitude  and  wisdom  on  your  own  part  which  the 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  211 

adjustment  of  these  claims  may  demand,  oppresses 
and  almost  OA^erwhelms  you. 

Although  conscious  that  these  afflictive  feelings 
often  rise  to  a  degree  which  is  culpable,  you  still 
cannot  appropriate  a  distinct  condemnation  of  them 
from  our   Saviour's  precepts  against  "  anxious  fore- 
thought," *  because  you  know  that,  besides  not  be- 
ing  personal  or  selfish,  they  relate  ultimately,  and 
in  the  largest  measure,   to  interests  ''not  of  this 
world."     Nor  is  the  excuse  which  you  found  on 
these  distinctions   at   all   inadmissible.      It   rather 
claims  our  warmest  sympathy  and  respect.    Eternal 
good  is  represented  by  Him  that  came  down  from 
heaven,  as  the  fit  subject  of  profound  solicitude  :  and 
if  a  large  philanthropy,  if  a  deep  concern  for  the  true 
and  final  happiness  of  others,  be  "  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law," — if  it  be  the  temper  of  angels  towards  our 
foreign   race,  and  of  those  who  have  imbibed  the 
mind  of  Christ  and  the  apostolic  spirit,  towards  the 
remotest  of  our  own,  —  how  much  more  where  the 
closest  bond  of  nature  all  but  identifies  your  ofi"- 
spring  with  yourself,  and  affection  yearns  over  those 
who  have  begun  within  your  own  embrace  their  pil- 
grimage towards  immortality!     No  one  condemns 
St.   Paul  for   his  daily  "  solicitude "  f  concerning 
"  all  the  churches;"  still  less  for  that  "heaviness 
and   sorrow"  on   account  of  his  "brethren"  and 

*  Matt.  vi.  25—34. 
t  2  Cor.  xi.  28.     It  is  remarkable  that  the  origmal  word  is  the 
same  as  in  the  above-cited  texts  of  Matthew's  Gospel. 


212  FEARS    OF    A 


X. 


"  kinsmen,"  (though  only  a  national  consanguinity 
were  meant,)  which  moved  peculiarly  his  "  heart's 
desire  and  prayer  that  Israel  might  be  saved."  No 
one  who  is  not  estranged  from  faith  and  charity  will 
censure  the  daily  tears  of  Monica,  the  devout  and 
widowed  mother  of  Augustine,  poured  out  to  the  God 
of  mercy  for  her  son's  conversion  :  on  the  contrary, 
what  Christian  would  not  venerate  and  love  that 
persevering  fervour  of  maternal  intercession  which 
the  son  so  gratefully  records  ?  But  the  principle 
and  feeling  of  solicitude  may  be  just  and  pure,  and 
yet  the  measure  of  it  excessive,  or  the  mode  erro- 
neous. You  are  prone,  I  may  venture  to  suppose, 
very  often  to  transfer  your  own  from  the  all-import- 
ant issue  so  fitly  and  piously  desired,  to  intervening 
means  and  distant  obstacles;  to  those  events,  en- 
gagements, and  connexions,  which,  as  you  imagine, 
may  obstruct  and  defeat  that  happy  termination  ; 
or  rather  that  happy  acquisition  of  blessings  not  to 
terminate.  You  seek  to  pierce,  not  for  yourself  in- 
deed, but  for  these  other  selves,  the  shades  and 
labyrinths  of  this  world's  transient  future.  Not  for 
yourself,  because  you  humbly  trust  that  Divine 
Mercy  has  taught  you  to  seize  the  sacred  clew,  or 
rather  has  "  apprehended  "  you  with  a  rescuing  and 
sustaining  hand ;  and  though  you  should  walk  in  a 
yet  deeper  darkness,  you  would  hope  and  resolve  to 
"  stay  yourself  upon  your  God."  But  for  them  you 
tremble  as  imagination  paints  their  untried  way. 
You  shudder  at  the  precipice  and  the  torrent ;  you 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  213 

dread  the  rugged  tract  and  the  luxuriant  valley,  the 
crowded  scene  and  the  solitary :  forgetting  that  it 
may  be  in  that  most  perilous  juncture, — or  in  some 
part  of  their  course  the  most  opposite  to  what  you 
would  select,  the  most  similar  to  what  you  fear, — 
that  the  "  Guide  of  their  youth  "  will  meet  them 
with  his  free  and  unchangeable  compassion ;  and 
from  that  memorable  hour  of  weakness,  error,  or 
wretchedness,  will  lead  them  "by  the  right  way." 
Undue  anxiety,  even  when  its  source  and  subject 
are  of  the  most  justifiable  kind,  is  not  only  reproved 
by  our  conscious  and  insuperable  ignorance,  but  lies 
open  to  the  severer  rebuke  of  being  deeply  tinctured 
with  a  want  of  "  faith  in  God."  As  to  the  former, 
could  we  need  confirmation,  the  events  of  every 
day  and  of  all  society  would  yield  it.  Even  were 
the  temporal  welfare  of  your  family  the  limit  of 
your  earnest  wishes,  were  the  prosperity  of  this  life 
(for  I  apply  not  the  term  happiness  to  what  is  brief 
and  unsatisfying)  all  that  you  would  invoke  for 
them,  you  know  how  impossible  it  would  have 
been,  not  only  for  the  fond  parent  they  have  lost, 
but  for  the  wisest  and  greatest  of  mankind,  to  fore- 
tell or  effect  with  certainty  what  would  conduce  to 
this.  Sages  might  fail  to  divine^  and  monarchs  to 
secure  it.  You  know  that  all  kinds  of  worldly 
advantages — brilliant  talents,  large  acquirements, 
hereditary  rank,  ample  wealth,  —  have  proved,  in 
multiplied  instances,  the  instruments  or  occasions 
of  temporal   ruin.     Character,  and   health,  and  life 


214  FEARS    OF    A  X. 

have,  by  turns,  been  sacrificed  amidst  those  splendid 
perils.  You  have  seen  sometimes  the  amiable  and 
virtuous,  who  possessed  almost  every  personal  and 
relative  privilege,  plunged  by  a  sudden  malady,  or 
an  unworthy  associate,  into  depths  of  distress.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  have  observed  positions  of  com- 
fort and  success,  respectability  and  honour,  attained 
through  all  the  varied  paths  of  early  danger,  diffi- 
culty, and  suffering. 

You  tremble  to  see  the  little  barks  in  which  your 
dearest  hopes  are  deposited,  now  launched  with  so 
feeble  a  convoy ;  and  to  think  that  even  from  this 
they  may  so  soon  be  parted.  But  remember  that 
were  the  convoy  even  princely,  the  frail  skiffs  and 
the  protecting  ships  would  be  alike  upon  a  treach- 
erous ocean.  The  richest  galliot,  and  the  armed 
fleet  that  surround  her,  are  alike  exposed  to  the 
tempest,  if  not  to  the  foe.  The  convoy  may  be  dis- 
persed ;  the  enemy  eluded,  and  the  skiff  preserved. 
The  modern  Caesar  twice  safely  traversed  the  whole 
Mediterranean,  without  protection,  amidst  hostile 
armaments  ;  and  while  he,  as  infidel  as  Julius,  only 
invoked  his  fortunes,  the  providence  of  God  for- 
bade his  capture  till  a  mysterious  and  unhappy 
course  should  be  fulfilled.  And  cannot  and  will 
not  the  same  hand  direct  (not  in  judgment,  but  in 
mercy)  the  course  of  those  whom  parental  love  con- 
tinually commits  into  his  keeping  ?  The  same  power 
that  scattered  an  "  invincible  Armada,"  guides  the 
nautilus  into  its  petty  creek  ;  and  has  wafted  many 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  215 

an  exhausted  mariner,  in  an  open  boat,  without  a 
compass  and  with  failing  stores,  into  some  "  quiet 
haven." 

Human  life  would  still  be  a  course  through  a 
trackless  deep  or  a  perplexing  labyrinth,  even  were 
earthly  prosperity  the  only  goal.  But  how  much 
more  is  prediction  baffled,  and  the  guarantee  of  all 
human  vigilance  in  itself  inadequate,  when  we  in- 
clude in  our  estimate  those  vast  and  unseen  reali- 
ties which,  with  you,  are  happily  paramount ;  out- 
weighing, as  they  do,  all  the  unsubstantial  gains  of 
time.  If  the  short-sightedness  confessed  in  that 
ancient  question,  "  Who  knoweth  what  is  good  for 
man  in  this  life  1 "  might  be  still  acknowledged,  even 
though  the  days  "  which  he  spendeth  as  a  shadow," 
were  the  whole  of  his  existence, — how  much  more 
when  the  shadow  forms  but  the  preliminary  veil  to 
a  destiny  that  is  boundless  !  A  sense  of  our  inca- 
pacity to  foresee  the  spiritual  effects  of  this  life's  in- 
cidents and  changes,  though  it  must  not  relax  cau- 
tion or  paralyse  exertion,  ought  surely  to  modify  all 
our  prayers,  desires,  and  efforts,  for  the  earthly  wel- 
fare of  others,  as  well  as  for  our  own  ;  introducing 
into  all  of  them  this  heartfelt  reservation, — "The 
Lord,  let  Him  do  what  seemeth  Him  good."  Au- 
gustine relates  that  his  devout  mother  had  earn- 
estly deprecated  that  change  of  his  residence,  from 
Carthage  to  Italy,  which  was,  in  fact,  the  means  of 
his  conversion.     Doubtless  her  grief  at  the  thought 


216  FEARS    OF    A  X. 

of  separation  was  mingled  with  the  dread  of  his 
incurring  greater  transgressions,  and  being  still  fur- 
ther alienated  from  piety.  The  immediate  object, 
therefore,  of  her  earnest  prayer  was,  that  his  depar- 
ture might  be  prevented.  "  What,  O  my  God  !  " 
(he  writes,)  "  did  she  at  that  time  entreat  with  such 
excess  of  tears,  except  that  Thou  wouldest  not  per- 
mit my  voyage  ?  But  in  thy  profound  and  hidden 
counsels,  listening  to  the  deeper  object,  the  cardinal 
point  of  her  desires.  Thou  wert  regardless  of  what 
she  then  implored,  in  order  to  accomplish  in  me 
what  she  ever  implored."*  Perhaps  this  Christian 
parent,  even  while  thus  hurried  away  by  tender 
affections  and  forebodings,  exercised  a  more  sub- 
missive spirit  than  her  son  ascribed  to  her.  But 
we  should  ever  remember  that  the  very  supposition 
of  these  prospects  beyond  the  tomb,  which  create 
our  deepest  anxieties,  both  relative  and  personal, — 
itself  involves  and  is  built  upon  the  fact  of  God's 
perfections  and  providence.  When,  as  Christian 
parents,  we  yield  to  a  desponding  or  agitating  tem- 
per of  mind  as  to  the  unknown  course  and  destiny 
of  our  children,  we  not  only  seem  to  mourn  over 
that  want  of  prescience  which  is  the  allotment  and 
condition  of  our  being,  but  we  really  betray  the 
feebleness  of  our  trust  in  that  great  Ruler  and  Fa- 
ther of  his  creatures,  from  whose  own  declarations 

*  Confess.,  1.  v.  c.  8.     Exaudiens  cardinem  desiderii  ejus,  non 
curasti  quod  tunc  petebat,  ut  in  me  faceres,  quod  semper  petebat. 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  217 

of  holiness,  and  acts  and  promises  of  mercy,  it  can 
alone  be  inferred  that  the  course  of  those  whom  we 
love  is  truly  so  momentous.  Had  not  the  Almighty 
revealed  himself  in  the  person  of  that  *'  beloved 
Son,  "  who,  by  his  authoritative  voice,  but  more  im- 
pressively by  his  vicarious  sufferings,  promulgated 
the  incalculable  worth  both  of  the  human  soul  and 
of  its  ransomed  patrimony,  then  would  those  ulti- 
mate hopes  and  fears,  which  possess  you  on  behalf 
of  your  beloved  charge,  have  never  been  awakened  : 
you  would  have  had,  probably,  no  fixed  expectation 
of  a  life  to  come ;  certainly  no  knowledge  as  to  the 
connexion  of  happiness  in  that  life  with  pardon  and 
spiritual  renovation  in  this.  You  would  have  been 
incompetent  to  form,  for  yourself,  or  for  them,  the 
"  sure  and  certain  "  hope  of  a  perfect  and  unchange- 
able felicity ;  inasmuch  as  nothing  in  your  view  of 
the  human  nature  and  condition,  and  nothing  in 
your  ignorance  of  the  Divine,  could  warrant  or  even 
suggest  such  a  hope.  The  source,  therefore,  of  your 
deepest  anxiety,  should  be  the  source  of  its  cure  ; 
should  afford  its  sovereign  antidote.  If  you  grate- 
fully believe  in  an  immortal  life  to  come,  then  must 
you  believe  that  He  who  proclaims  and  confers  it  is 
the  "  God  of  all  grace,"  the  God  who  is  "  Love  ;  " 
who  has  given  unspeakable  proof  of  his  compassion, 
as  excelling  (to  use  his  own  pathetic  language) 
not  only  a  Father's  pity,  but  even  a  mother^s  ten- 
derness. 


218  FEARS    OF    A  X. 

You  will  answer,  perhaps,  —  Alas  !  no  comfort 
can  arise  even  from  these  gracious  attributes,  and 
these  consolatory  declarations,  as  to  the  happy  issue 
of  my  children's  course,  except  Divine  truth  per- 
sonally affect  their  hearts.  Most  true.  But  let  it 
not  be  forgotten,  that  we  serve  "  the  God  of  hope :" 
that  he  "  delighteth  in  mercy,"  and  is  able  to  do 
"exceeding  abundantly  above  all  we  ask;"  that 
since  he  has  expressly  enjoined  and  encouraged  in- 
tercession, it  would  be  profane  to  imagine  that  earn- 
est supplications,  (and  especially  parental  prayers,) 
having  the  highest  good  of  others  for  their  object, 
should  be  wholly  or  usually  ineffectual. 

Who  will  venture  to  assert,  that  when  a  parent's 
sincere  and  believing,  though  imperfect  petitions, 
combined  with  such  practical  vigilance  as  our  in- 
firmity admits,  have  been  the  child's  inheritance, 
— that  child  is  likely  to  pass  into  another  world  un- 
visited  by  heavenly  mercy  ;  unrepenting  and  un- 
blessed ?  Are  we  even  warranted  in  indulging  the 
fear,  that  if  we,  "being  evil,"  perseveringly  entreat 
this  best  of  gifts  for  our  children,  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther will  refuse  to  bestow  on  them  "  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit "  which  he  has  promised  to  them  that  ask  ? 
What  rio-ht  have  we  to  conclude,  that  this  blessins:, 
which  it  is  our  first  duty  to  implore,  and  w^hich  is 
unconditionally  promised,  will  be  withholden  when 
it  is  solicited  for  them ;  solicited  by  those  in  whom 
all   the  sentiments  of  nature  are  a  pledge  for  un- 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  219 

doubted  sincerity,  if  not  for  unwearied  ardour  ?  By 
what  principle  are  we  authorized  to  limit  or  depre- 
ciate the  efficacy  of  intercessory  prayer?  It  is, 
surely,  prayer  of  the  purest  and  most  heavenly  kind. 
It  has  for  its  very  essence  and  impulse,  the  spirit  of 
love.  It  is  the  kind  of  prayer  in  which  Christ 
abounded  on  earth,  and  which  He  continues  in  hea- 
ven. And  in  the  case  of  those  whom  you  "  love  as 
your  own  soul,"  how  shall  it  not  be  often  winged 
with  a  peculiar  fervour  ?  Nay,  I  doubt  not  you 
have  sometimes  felt, — Though  my  supplications  for 
myself  have  this  day  been  so  distracted  and  luke- 
warm, at  least  my  supplications  for  my  dear  children 
have  been  truly  from  the  heart.  We  grant  that 
intercession,  even  for  those  most  beloved,  as  for  all 
others,  whatever  be  its  warmth  or  frequency,  cannot 
essentially  and  supremely  promote  their  spiritual 
good,  unless  it  be  graciously  accepted  as  instru- 
mental in  procuring  for  them  personally  the  grace 
and  spirit  of  prayer.  Without  this,  indeed,  it  may 
be  instrumental  to  avert  or  mitigate  evil,  to  pre- 
vent many  sins  and  sufferings,  or  many  aggrava- 
tions of  both.  But  how  are  we  justified  in  forebod- 
ing that  it  will  not  ultimately,  nay  speedily,  procure 
that  grace,  which  shall  prompt  our  children  to  pray 
with  earnestness  for  themselves;  that  it  will  not 
be  owned  of  God  by  his  mercifully  g.  anting  them 
convictions,  early  and  deep  convictions,  of  the  value 
of  heavenly  truth ;  such  as  will  bring  them  truly  to 
u  2 


220  FEARS    OF    A  X. 

his  Mercy-seat ;  and  in  that  great  disclosing  day, 
"when  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  shall  be  re- 
vealed," will  be  found  linked  in  his  secret  records 
with  the  solitary  effusions  of  a  parent's  love  ? 

On  these  grounds  we  may  surely  acquit  of  pre- 
sumption him  w^io  said  to  the  mother  of  Augustine, 
"  It  cannot  be  that  the  child  of  those  tears  should 
perish."  Monica,  we  are  told,  received  his  conso- 
lation as  if  sent  by  Heaven.  Nor  should  you,  or 
any  devout  parent,  hesitate  to  share  it.  It  is  a 
thought  which  may  transmute  the  tears  of  despond- 
ency to  tears  of  joy  ;  which  may  give  a  happy 
warmth  to  each  tender  admonition,  animate  each 
prudential  endeavour,  and*  shed  a  calm  upon  your 
spirit  amidst  that  distressing  uncertainty  which 
must  attend  some  of  your  decisions.  Indulge  the 
bright  anticipation  of  final  inseparable  union  :  pray 
with  confiding  hope  for  a  blessing  so  immense  : 
resign,  not  with  careless  indolence  but  with  devout 
acquiescence,  every  intervening  scene  and  change, 
into  His  hand,  who,  as  you  well  know,  has  led  his 
most  beloved  "  sons  and  daughters  "  through  paths 
of  danger  and  perplexity,  to  penitence  and  joy. 
Rely  on  him  who  shall  "  gather  the  lambs  with 
his  arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom."  Originally 
and  efficiently  all  good  must  flow  from  Him  ;  but 
instrumentally,  you  may,  in  all  likelihood,  hereafter 
trace  their  blessedness  to  your  sharpest  sorrows, — 
to   the    more   fervent  devotion,  and   genuine  reli- 


X.  WIDOWED    MOTHER.  221 

ance,  and  tender  vigilance,  which  those  afflictions 
wrought, — and  to  those  subsequent  trials  in  their 
own  course,  which  you  contemplated  with  dread, 
but  which  God  in  mercy  pre-ordained  to  bring 
them  to  Himself,  and  reunite  them  everlastingly 
with  you. 


u  3 


XI 


ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  INTERPRETATION  OF 
MYSTERIOUS  CHASTISEMENTS. 

In  contemplating  the  afflictions,  however  severe,  of 
those  around  us  who  are  in  revolt  against  God,  who 
violate  at  once  His  law  promulgated  in  Scripture, 
and  the  anterior  law  recorded  in  the  heart,  we  can- 
not be  wholly  at  a  loss  to  perceive  in  them  a  pur- 
pose both  just  and  gracious.  They  are  less  perplex- 
ing to  faith  than  either  the  sufferings  of  inferior 
creatures,  irresponsible  and  sinless,  or  of  the  peni- 
tent and  obedient,  the  returned  and  adopted  children 
of  God.  For  we  have  discerned,  and  have  ourselves 
experienced,  their  reclaiming  tendency.  What  so 
effectual  as  pain  and  privation,  to  bring  the  "  lost 
sheep  "  back  to  the  "  Good  Shepherd  "  and  com- 
passionate "  Bishop  of  souls  ?  "  And  under  the  con- 
stituted order  of  God's  dealings  with  rebellious  man, 
—  in  which  we  must  either  humbly  acquiesce  or 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  223 

fruitlessly  speculate, — it  is  often  very  plainly  requi- 
site that  such  chastisements  be  "  sharp  and  long." 
Nothing  less,  in  many  cases,  than  a  keen  pressure 
of  most  "  grievous  "  anguish,  suffices  to  bring  back 
the  hardened  offender,  contrite  and  suppliant,  to 
meet  the  overtures  of  paternal  kindness.* 

In  observing  also  the  subsequent  pangs  and  griefs 
of  those  who  have  thus  returned,  and  still  more  in 
enduring  such  personally,  we  can  often  discover 
that  they  are  needful  for  correction ;  designed  to 
improve  and  chasten  those  who  still  "  in  many 
things  offend  ;  "  that  the  Father  of  our  spirits  thus 
treats  his  adopted  children  "  for  their  profit,  that 
they  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness  ; "  the  actual 
defects  and  evils  by  which  they  differ  from  the  model 
and  standard  of  that  holiness  being  thus  abated  or 
expelled  : — that  in  this  manner  He  curbs  the  re- 
mains of  pride,  chastises  corrupt  self-indulgence  and 
love  of  the  world,  rebukes  a  neglect  of  devotion, 
punishes  those  "  secret  faults  "  which  have  marred 
the  peace  and  honour  of  the  Christian  course,  and 
quickens  the  view  and  desire  of  those  divine  realities 
which  are  too  often  strangely  obscured  by  this  life's 
cares  or  enjoyments.  You  are  abundantly  conscious, 
that  you  still  need  such  corrections ;  although  you 
may  "faint"   not  seldom,    and  sometimes   almost 

*  Even  heathens  perceived  the  fitness  and  necessity  of  pain  to 
reclaim  the  wicked.  See  Socrates  in  Plato's  Gorgias,  p.  294. 
Edit.  Routh.  The  whole  passage  is  in  more  than  one  view  re- 
markable. 


224  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XI. 

murmur,  at  their  character  or  their  degree.  Where 
are  the  believers  who  can  presume  to  say,  that  cor- 
rective chastisement  is,  or  will  be  in  this  world, 
quite  superfluous  for  themselves? 

And  yet,  looking  at  the  course  of  others,  perhaps 
of  some  that  are  most  dear  to  you,  you  feel  it  diffi- 
cult, and  may  even  deem  it  culpable,  to  assign  this 
reason  for  their  sufferings,  disappointments,  and  pri- 
vations ;  which  you  see  to  be  exceedingly  acute, 
greatly  protracted,  or  variously  aggravated  ;  and 
which  therefore  often  bear  an  appearance  the  most 
dark  and  inscrutable. 

Do  you  then,  let  me  ask,  enough  consider,  that 
sufferings,  when  allotted  to  the  "  heirs  of  God,  and 
joint  heirs  with  Christ,"  have  an  ulterior  and  su- 
perior use  ;  the  use  of  completion  or  exaltation  in 
obedience  ;  that,  in  other  words,  they  are  designed 
not  only  to  correct,  but  likewise  to  perfect  or  to 
elevate  ?  • 

If  you  doubt  whether  this  end  can  be  justly  re- 
garded as  distinct  from  that  of  correction, — which 
we  admit  to  be  usually,  and,  perhaps,  always  con- 
joined with  it,— consider  that  the  sinless  Redeemer, 
in  his  human  nature,  is  declared  to  have  "  learned 
obedience  by  the  things  which  He  suffered."  But 
one  of  the  chief  aspects  in  which  that  glorious  Per- 
son is  presented  to  our  view,  is  as  a  faultless  ex- 
emplar of  human  excellence  or  virtue  ;  and  this 
also  in  those  parts  of  his  course  which  especially 
fulfilled  a  far  more  exalted   and  inestimable  pur- 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  225 

pose  ;  namely,  his  sufferings.  For  this  we  have  the 
express  testimony  of  an  apostle, — "  Christ  also  suf- 
fered for  us,  leaving  us  an  example  that  ye  should 
follow  his  steps ;  "  *  where  the  foregoing  context 
evinces  the  writer's  meaning  to  be,  not  merely  that 
He  who  suffered  left  us  an  example  generally,  but 
that  his  sufferings  were  especially  thus  designed. 
It  was  therefore  a  distinct  and  material  end,  though 
far  from  the  highest  and  ultimate  end  of  them, — to 
afford  a  specimen  and  pattern  of  the  most  arduous 
human  virtue.  Jesus,  although  infinitely  dignified, 
and  infinitely  dear  to  his  heavenly  Father,  and  en- 
tirely free  from  sin,  yet  could  not,  without  the  en- 
durance of  his  great  and  various  sufferings,  have 
exercised  and  displayed,  as  man,  so  sublime  a  per- 
fection of  obedience.  We  have,  indeed,  mentioned 
obvious  uses  of  suffering,  in  regard  to  fallen  and  re- 
volted, and  even  to  recalled  but  imperfect  human 
beings,  which  evidently  and  totally  differ  from  any 
that  it  had,  or  could  have,  in  relation  to  Him  *'  who 
knew  no  sin."  As  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  on  the 
one  hand,  fulfilled  an  entirely  different  and  infinitely 
superior  end  to  those  of  any  other  human  being, — 
that  of  the  expiation  of  sins, — so,  on  the  other  hand, 
do  the  sufferings  of  apostate  but  redeemed  creatures 
promote  an  entirely  different  end  from  any  which 
they  could  accomplish  personally  in  the  holy  Saviour, 
— that  of  the  subjugation  of  sins.     While,  ho^TCver, 

*  1  Pet.  ii.  21. 


226  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XI. 

this  dissimilarity  exists,  a  remarkable  affinity  or 
identity  subsists  together  with  it :  one  great  and 
honourable  use  of  sufferino;  beincr  common  to  the 
followers  of  Christ  with  their  Lord, —  the  only  one 
which  can  be  so  ;  which  we  have  already  termed 
the  use  of  completion  or  exaltation.  Were  it  not 
for  this  point  of  intercommunity,  there  would  be 
much  less  strictness  and  fitness  in  the  phrase  lately 
cited  from  St.  Peter,  and  in  that  strong  expression 
of  St.  Paul,  where,  having  styled  believers  '^ joint- 
heirs  with  Christ,"  he  adds,  ''if  so  be  we  jointly- 
siiffer,  that  also  we  may  be  jointly -glorified  with 
Him ;  "  ^"  language  precisely  adapted  to  indicate 
communion  in  the  character  and  end  of  suffering. 
With  regard  to  our  Saviour,  it  must  be  superfluous 
to  show,  that  the  endurance  of  suffering  could  have, 
as  it  respected  himself,  the  last-mentioned  use  alone. 
It  were  blasphemy  in  this  case  to  attribute  to  it  any 
reclaiming  or  corrective  use.  When  we  are  told 
that  He  thus  "  learned  obedience,"  nothing  else 
can  be  meant  than  that  He  thus  was  enabled  to  ex- 
ercise and  exemplify  a  more  elevated  obedience, 
than  he  could  else  have  done,  and  than  our  first  pro- 
genitor could  have  done,  had  he  persevered  for  ever 
in  sinless  virtue  witJiout  suffering.  This  is  express- 
ed more  distinctly  in  another  remarkable  passage. 
— "  It  became  Him,  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by 
whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing  many  sons  unto 

*  Rom.  viii.  17.     See  Macknight's  translation,  and  in  each  case 
the  compound  word  of  the  original. 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  227 

glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect 
through  sufferings."  *  But  if  acquiescent  endur- 
ance was  thus  a  crowning  constituent  of  moral  per- 
fectness  in  Him  that  took  our  nature  upon  him,  why- 
should  it  not  be  so, — or  rather,  how  shall  it  not  be 
so, — in  those  ransomed  and  adopted  "  heirs  of  God," 
whose  perfection  consists  in  being  "  co-heirs  with 
Christ,"  and  "  conformed  to  the  image  of  his  Son?  " 
View  in  this  light  the  afflictions  on  which  it  some- 
times oppresses  us  to  meditate,  and  see  if  that  per- 
fective tendency,  that  close  resemblance  of  character 
and  purpose  to  the  trials  which  our  Lord  endured, 
does  not  avail  at  least  to  abate  our  wonder,  and  dis- 
pose the  mind  to  waiting  adoration. 

You  may  have  known  a  devoted  and  highly-gifted 
Christian,  who  has  zealously  embarked  in  some 
special  task  of  philanthropy, — whether  that  of  in- 
viting men  into  "  the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son," 
or  combating  on  their  behalf  some  forms  of  injustice 
and  cruelty,  or  promoting  some  mode  of  their 
positive  comfort  and  improvement, — arrested  by  a 
disabling  stroke,  and  without  any  extinction,  per- 
haps without  diminution,  of  mental  energy  and  zeal, 
entirely  laid  by  from  those  activities  in  which  he 
was  ready  "  to  spend  and  to  be  spent."  This  is  a 
very  startling  and  mysterious  check.  But  let  it  not 
be  forgotten,  that  while  the  cause,  already,  or  at  no 

*  Heb.  ii.  10, — literally  —  "to  perfect,  (or  complete)  through 
sufferings,  the  Prince  of  their  salvation." 


228  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XI. 

long  interval,  may  be  prosecuted  by  other  instru- 
ments, he  that  fain  would  serve  it  is  meantime 
"  learning  obedience," — practising  a  harder,  nobler 
lesson  in  the  school  of  true  discipleship, — "  by  the 
thing  which  he  suffers."  Nothing  M^hich  he  could 
have  achieved  or  attempted  in  the  way  of  active 
duty,  nothing  even  which  he  could  have  home  in 
the  pursuit  of  that  duty,  would  have  been  so  ar- 
duous, as  to  bow  to  this  unlooked-for  prohibition  ; 
and  while  compelled  to  say  *'  My  days  are  past,  my 
purposes  are  broken  off,  even  the  thoughts  of  my 
heart,"*  to  add,  "  The  Lord  gave  "  strength,  "  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  it  away  ;  and  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord." 

You  have  known  also,  perhaps,  such  a  benevolent 
and  ardent  mind,  intent  on  the  service  of  God  and 
the  happiness  of  men,  itself  visited  with  afflictive 
weakness.  Bodily  health  may  have  been,  or  at 
least  have  seemed,  unbroken;  but  languor  and 
prostration  have  come  upon  those  mental  powers 
and  sentiments  which  were  so  awake  and  vigorous. 
The  very  "  will  to  do  good  "  seems  wanting.  It  is 
merged  in  the  oppressive  sense  of  incapacity.  The 
"  fervour  of  the  spirit  "  has  vanished,  and,  at  least 
in  the  sufferer's  apprehension,  cannot  be  rekindled. 
This  will  appear  a  still  more  marvellous  and  con- 
founding infliction.     Yet,  from  its  very  strangeness 

*  Job  xvii.  11. 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  229 

and  heaviness,  it  is  obvious  to  infer,  that  the  sufferer 
is  called  to  the  acquisition  of  a  still  more  difficult 
and  refined  "obedience."  To  be  thus  assailed  and 
"  smitten  at  the  heart,"  thus  "  emptied  "  or  de- 
nuded in  the  innermost  recess  of  feeling, — especially 
when  such  a  state  involves,  as  it  often  must,  dis- 
tressful doubts  as  to  the  greatest  truths,  or  as  to 
personal  interest  in  them, —  may  be  a  far  vreightier 
trial  and  sharper  test  of  submission,  than  martyr- 
dom, with  the  firm  and  elated  hope  bestowed  on 
many  martyrs,  itself  could  be.  That  is  a  deep  and 
lofty  lesson  in  the  discipline  of  passive  virtue,  in 
which  the  learner  still  cleaves  to  his  great  paternal 
Teacher,  though  unable  not  only  to  render  Him 
animated  service,  but  to  realize  His  unseen  presence, 
and  much  more  to  appropriate  His  unseen  smiles. 

You  have  seen,  it  may  be,  a  good  man's  warm 
endeavours  baffled  by  perverse  and  unfeeling  oppo- 
sition ;  or  fruitless  through  the  sloth  or  prejudice 
of  those  who  should  concur  with  him.  He  has  ex- 
ercised a  disinterested  and  patient  earnestness,  but 
has  been  requited  with  indifference,  sometimes  per- 
haps with  scorn.  He  is  compelled  to  say  or  to  sus- 
pect, "  I  have  laboured  in  vain  ;  I  have  spent  my 
strength  for  nought."  * 

What  a  grievous  wound  to  the  spirit !  What  a 
chilling  damp  on  the  fervent  and  dedicated  heart ! 
But  he  who  feels  it,  and  can  add  with  some  measure 

*  Isa.  xlix.  4. 
X 


230  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XI. 

of  the  prophet's  resignation,  "  Yet  surely  my  judg- 
ment is  with  the  Lord,  and  my  work  with  my  God," 
— is  practising  assuredly  an  exalted  and  happy  obe- 
dience in  "  the  thing  which  he  suffers." 

Trials  akin  to  this  may  occur  with  sharp  and 
peculiar  aggravations  even  in  the  closest  privacy, 
and  in  the  nearest  bonds  of  life.  Efforts  for  the 
spiritual,  moral,  and  temporal  welfare  of  dear  con- 
nexions may  all  have  been  apparently  frustrated 
and  lost :  many  prayers  and  counsels,  many  aids 
and  toils,  many  tender  expostulations,  may  be  yet 
in  vain.  To  acquiesce  here, — to  bow  to  the  dark 
appointments  or  permissions  of  Him  whose  "  way 
is  in  the  sea  "  and  whose  "  footsteps  are  not  known," 
— to  bear  the  denial  or  postponement  of  the  most 
pious  and  ardent  desires, — what  an  agonizing  pitch 
of  "hardness"  for  the  "soldier  of  Christ!"  How 
many  a  sorrowing  but  not  murmuring  relative,  full 
of  anguish,  yet  meekly  bending  to  the  sovereignty 
of  God,  has  thus  been  led  up  the  Hinty  steep  of 
Christian  endurance  !  You  have  witnessed  it ;  and 
perhaps  with  an  amazed  disquietude.  But  do  we 
not  here  behold  the  "goodness"  as  well  as  "se- 
verity "  of  God  ?  How  eminently  are  those  patient 
mourners  "  learning  obedience,"  by  the  uncom- 
plaining though  heart-sickening  sadness  of  their 
"  hope  deferred  !"  That  hope  may  yet  perhaps  be 
fulfilled  ere  they  go  hence,  and  gild  their  latter 
days  with  a  tranquil  sacred  delight ;  but  perhaps, 
not  till  they  are  "  ascended  to  their  Father  ; " — even 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  231 

as  His  unexampled  prayer,  who  implored,  "  Forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,"  was  an- 
swered, after  his  ascension  from  our  world,  in  the 
penitence  and  peace  of  thousands  who  had  scorned 
and  resisted  his  whole  ministry  of  love. 

Sympathize  tenderly  therefore  in  the  sorrows  of 
such  hearts  ;  but  be  "  not  offended."  They  are 
'^  bearing  the  cross  "  with  Him  who  wept  over  Je- 
rusalem. They  are  "  learning"  an  unreserved  de- 
ference to  Divine  wisdom,  and  reliance  on  Divine 
mercy.  In  proportion  to  the  painfulness  of  their 
tuition  will  be  the  exaltation  of  their  joy. 

Once  more — you  may  have  observed,  or  watched 
over,  a  Christian  who  appeared  mature  in  piety, 
"ready  to  be  offered,"  fully  "meet  for  the  inherit- 
ance of  the  saints,"  but  who  has  been  long,  very 
long,  detained  under  the  grasp  of  cruel  disease, 
lingering  on  a  bed  of  pining  sickness,  racked  with 
unremitting  pain  :  or,  if  the  malady  has,  on  the 
contrary,  been  rapid,  you  have  witnessed  intense 
pangs  it  may  be,  which  seemed  to  pour  "  gall  and 
wormwood  "  into  the  very  "  bitterness  of  death." 
You  have  been  led  to  ask  mournfully  at  such  a 
sight, — Why  all  this — why  not  a  calmer  dismissal 
of  the  prepared  and  expecting  spirit  ?  Why  these 
pains  prolonged,  or  accumulated,  or  sharpened, 
when  a  merciful  Father,  a  compassionate  Redeem- 
er, is  about  to  receive  the  departing  and  beloved 
sufferer  to  his  own  embrace  ?  —  To  these  queries 
we  must  accept,  and  may  with  reason  accept,  the 
x  2 


232  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XL 

scriptural  answer,  which  has  been  repeatedly  ad- 
duced. The  beloved  sufferer,  though  an  adopted 
son,  is  still  "learning  obedience:"  attaining  that 
last  and  highest  gradation  of  perfective  endurance 
which  worketh  for  him  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  The  grace  by  which  he 
endures  this  final  test, — "not  charging  God  fool- 
ishly," but  trusting  in  His  wise  and  merciful  design, 
— although  it  be  God's  own  gift,  and  can  afford  no 
shadow  of  a  plea  for  boasting, — shall  be  "  counted 
worthy  "  of  a  rich  and  "  full  reward."  By  these 
pains  and  languishings  is  he  brought  into  closest 
union,  into  holiest  conformity,  wdth  Him  that  "  en- 
dured the  cross."  The  human  exaltation  of  our 
Lord  himself  has  been  ascribed  to  that  endurance 
as  its  cause.  He  "  became  obedient  unto  death^ 
even  the  death  of  the  cross  ; — wherefore  God  also 
hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name 
which  is  above  every  name."*'  Surely  then,  by 
the  various  forms  of  bodily  and  mental  suffering, 
as  probably  as  by  any  mode  of  faithfulness  in  active 
duties,  t  may  his  followers  be  aj5pointed  to  graduate 
for  their  stations  in  his  "  Father's  house  ;  "  to  "  pro- 
cure to  themselves  an  excellent  degree  ;  "  J  to  be 
"  counted  worthy  of  double  honour  ; "  §  to  have  "  an 
entrance  ministered  to  them  richly  into  the  ever- 
lasting kingdom  of  their  Lord  and   Saviour ;  "||  to 

*  Philip,  ii.  9,  and  comp.  Heb.  ii.  9,  10. 

t  See  2  Thess.  i.  5 — 7.     J   1  Tim.  iii.  13.  Macknight's  translation. 

§  1  Tim.  V.  17.  II  2  Pet.  i.  11,  Tr\ov<nois. 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  233 

be  numbered  with  those  who  "  came  out  of  great 
tribulation;"  who  are  before  the  throne  of  God  and 
"  serve  Him  day  and  night  in  his  Temple." 

Doubtless,  as  was  before  suggested,  if  you  person- 
ally endure  such  distresses,  you  will  feel  that  they 
are  properly  chastisements,  merited  and  corrective : 
and  so  will  those  whose  similar  afflictions  you  observe. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  questioned,  that  in  all  the  sufferings 
of  fallen  man,  even  those  of  the  most  advanced  be- 
lievers in  their  latest  hours,  a  corrective  quality  and 
design  may  mingle  :  but  that  does  not  preclude, 
even  in  your  case,  and  still  less  in  theirs,  the  high- 
er and  perfective  quality  and  purpose.  Neither  is 
it  for  you  or  me,— though  great  and  awful  be  our 
conscious  demerit,  and  chastisements  be  far  more 
deserved  and  needed  by  us  than  our  fellow  crea- 
tures might  account  them,— to  define  and  circum- 
scribe the  aims  of  Him  that  correcteth  in  mercy,  as 
if  He  could  not  associate  with  this  a  more  latent 
and  still  diviner  purpose  when  he  appoints  the  rod. 
It  were  presumptuous  to  dispute  or  set  aside,  what 
scriptural  statements  and  inferences  establish,  that 
it  is  their  perfective  quality  and  use,  as  distinguished 
from  the  corrective,  which  identifies  the  sufferings 
of"  the  members"  with  those  of  the  exalted"  Head ;" 
and  that  this  quality  and  use  may,  therefore,  proba- 
bly enter  into  every  "  chastening,"  even  of  the  un- 
worthiest  and  least  faithful  of  the  "  children  of  God." 

But  our  view  at  present  has  been  chiefly  directed 
to  the  course  and  the  trials  of  others;  and  of  those 
X  3 


234  CHRISTIAN    VIEW    OF  XI. 

who  are  much  more  advanced.  Let  it  be  impressed 
on  our  minds  in  reference  to  such,  that  those 
"friends"  or  "brethren"  of  Christ  most  strictly 
and  precisely  "  suffer  with  Him,"  *  just  so  far  as 
their  sufferings  have  in  them  what  is  beyond  or  above 
the  corrective  character.  But  the  more  they  suffer 
"  with"  or  like  their  Master,  the  more  pre-eminently 
doubtless  shall  they  "reign  with  Him."  f  The 
apostles  appear  to  have  recognised  this  design  in 
their  own  appointed  conflicts.  Though  Paul  dis- 
tinctly acknowledges  a  corrective  or  preventive  use, 
when  he  writes,  "  Lest  I  should  be  exalted  above 
measure  through  the  abundance  of  the  revelations, 
there  was  given  to  me  a  thorn  in  the  flesh/'  J  he 
at  other  times  intimates  the  strict  communion  of 
believers  in  suffering  with  their  sinless  Lord.  "The 
sufferings  of  Christ  "  (he  had  declared  in  the  same 
Epistle)  "abound  in  us;"§  and  elsewhere  he  an- 
nounces it  as  part  of  his  supreme  desire  that  he 
might  know  the  ''fellowship  of  his"  Lord's  "  suf- 
ferings, being  made  conformable  unto  his  death."  || 
To  another  society  he  declares,  "  I  rejoice  in  my 
sufferings  for  you,  and  in  my  turn  fill  up  the  re- 
mainder of  the  afflictions  of  Clirist,  for  his  body's 
sake,  which  is  the  church."  ^  Though  he  chiefly 
rejoiced  that  these  things  were  endured  in  the  ser- 
vice and  for  the  benefit  of  the  church,  and  in  that 

*  Rom.  viii.  17.  t  2  Tim.  ii.  12.  +  2  Cor.  xii.  7. 

§  2  Cor.  i.  5.  II  Philip,  iii.  10. 

H  Col.  i.  24.  Macknight's  translation. 


XI.  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  235 

respect  also  resembled  his  Lord's,  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  he  rejoiced  likewise  in  their  perfective 
or  completory,  and,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  in  their 
honorary  character,  as  means  and  marks  of  com- 
munion and  coheirship  with  Him,  "  who  for  the 
suffering  of  death  was  crowned  with  glory."  '*  Peter 
uses  similar  language:  "  Rejoice,  inasmuch  as  ye 
participate  (or  communicate)  in  Christ's  sufferings : 
that,  in  the  revelation  of  his  glory,  ye  may  exult  for 

joy-"  t 

I  know  not  indeed  how  we,  who  possess  a  nature 
susceptible  of  pain  and  "  compassed  wdth  infirmity," 
can  conceive  of  obedience  thoroughly  or  extremely 
tried,  except  through  this  ordeal  of  suffering.  There 
may  be,  and  we  doubt  not  there  are,  other  modes 
of  adequate  trial  for  spirits  unfallen, — whether  they 
be  incapable  of  pain  or  othervv^ise  ;  —  modes  which, 
though  having  no  pain  in  them,  are  yet  some  way 
as  effectual  and  conclusive  (perhaps  even  extreme) 
in  attesting  their  obedience.  Yet  there  is  some- 
thing strangely  illustrious  in  the  fact,  that  lapsed 
and  renovated  creatures  acquire  a  sort  of  conformity 
and  communion  with  the  Son  of  God,  which  beings 
that  have  never  suffered  cannot  be  imagined  to  pos- 
sess. If  there  be  first  a  something  surpassingly  glo- 
rious in  the  peculiarity  and  condescension  of  his 
suffering  *'  for  us,^'  there  is  next  a  something  re- 
ciprocally glorious  in  the  peculiarity  and  honour  of 

*  Heb.  ii.  9.  f  1  Pet.  iv.  13. 


236  MYSTERIOUS    CHASTISEMENTS.  XI 

our  suffering  "  with  Him.''  May  we  not  reverently 
conceive  it  one  purpose  of  Eternal  Wisdom  in  per- 
mitting man's  apostasy,  to  illustrate,  as  it  had  not 
been  and  could  not  perhaps  otherwise  have  been  illus- 
trated, that  mode  of  spiritual  discipline  and  elevation 
which  consists  in  the  endurance  of  pain — thus  in- 
troducing an  unprecedented  kind  of  victory,  a 
novel  sort  of  triumph  and  of  victors,  into  the  "  ge- 
neral assembly  "  of  the  blessed  ? — the  "  Lord  of  glory  " 
and  "  Image  of  the  invisible  God"  Himself  assum- 
ing a  crown  which  celestials  never  won,  and  bring- 
ing "  with  Him,  out  of  great  tribulation,"  a  new 
array  of  "  more  than  conquerors,"  from  whom  new 
glory  shall  redound  to  "  Him  that  loved  them," 
and  at  whom  the  heavens  shall  wonder? 


XII. 


ON  MENTAL  ILLNESS  OR  DEBILITY. 

Our  fallen  nature  owns  three  sources  of  infirmity 
and  suffering, — the  corporal,  the  intellectual,  and 
the  spiritual ;  *  which,  though  we  can  often  experi- 
mentally distinguish,  we  sometimes  imagine  more 
distinct  than  in  reality  they  are.  Instances,  no  doubt, 
are  found,  of  a  wonderful  distinctness,  and  almost 
a  seeming  independency,  of  those  several  states. 
Thus  the  intellectual  strength  of  some  men  has  been 
evinced  in  arduous  public  effort,  while  enduring 
acute  bodily  pain.  Thus  again,  in  the  midst  of 
torture  by  disease  or  martyrdom  by  violence,  there 
has  arisen  a  high  degree  of  spiritual  joy.  Some 
also,  under  the  lash  of  guilty  passions,  and  the  smart- 
ings  of  remorse,  have  yet  seemed  to   possess  their 

*  The  term  spiritual  is,  of  course,  used  in  the  moral  and  religious 
sense  ;  to  which,  by  Christians,  it  has  been  almost  exclusively  ap- 
propriated. 


238  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

bodily  vigour  and  mental  promptitude  unbroken. 
It  is,  however,  quite  rare,  for  the  intellectual  health 
to  be  even  transiently  shaken,  without  some  cor- 
poral sympathy  ;  and  even  without  some  moral  or 
spiritual  pain  being  thus  induced  or  heightened. 
Usually,  when  the  mind,  the  medium  both  of  sens- 
ations and  emotions,  is  weakened  or  perturbed,  all 
that  are  painful  become  the  more  so,  and  all  that 
are  pleasurable,  the  less.  We  somewhat  illustrate, 
though  without  really  explaining,  this  law,  when  it 
is  said,  in  familiar  metaphors,  that  the  mental  me- 
dium, like  a  stained  or  clouded  glass,  now  mars 
the  hue  of  what  is  bright,  and  deepens  what  is 
sombrous. 

There  are  exceptions,  indeed,  to  this  ;  for  the  in- 
tellect, in  later  life,  may  be  consciously  impaired  and 
circumscribed,  yet  the  bodily  powers  and  percep- 
tions not  sensibly  abated,  and  the  moral  and  spiritual 
comforts  happily  enhanced. 

But  while  we  have  thus  examples  of  distinctness, 
(and  in  all  its  forms,) — the  contrary  cases,  of  compli- 
cation, are  abundantly  more  frequent.  It  is  matter 
of  trite  remark,  how  the  mind  and  body  act  upon 
each  other.  Such  indeed  is  their  hidden  recipro- 
city of  influence,  that  it  often  defies  the  most  self- 
analysing  consciousness,  and  the  most  observant 
professional  skill,  to  pronounce  where  such  affec- 
tions originate  ;  whether  some  insensible  bodily  dis- 
arrangement gave  rise  to  the  languor  of  the  mind  ; 
—  or  some  disorder  more  strictly  intellectual  first 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  239 

untuned  the  physical  functions  ; — or  whether  some 
secret  wound  of  conscience,  or  sense  of  grief  or 
shame,  or  wrong,  or  disappointment,  has  wrought 
on  either,  or  both  :  and  how  far,  in  these  cases,  a 
predisposition  of  the  mind  or  body  rendered  that 
grievous  at  one  time,  which  might  have  been  harm- 
less at  another. 

While,  however,  all  this  is  latent,  it  will  be  often 
felt,  and  perhaps  still  oftener  seen,  that  there  is  a 
mutual  action,  a  pervading  sympathetic  malady. 
And  although  intellectual  weakness  (which  is  our 
immediate  subject)  may  not,  in  the  decline  of  life, 
produce  any  spiritual  gloom,  this  is  because  the 
Christian  mind  has  learned  to  acquiesce  in  its  own 
perceived  decay,  as  a  common  ordination  of  Provi- 
dence ;  the  appointed  lot  of  age.  But  when  such 
a  visitation  comes  (speaking  humanly)  before  its 
season,  then  is  it  naturally  productive  of  discom- 
posure and  complaint  ;  the  more  so  because  exag- 
gerated by  the  mind  which  endures  it,  and  viewed 
as  humiliating,  perhaps  judicial.  It  is  true  that 
Christian  patience  will  mitigate  these  feelings  ;  yet 
with  a  conscious  premature  suspension  of  mental 
health  and  vigour,  spiritual  serenity  and  abounding 
hope  seem  incompatible.  As  I  judge  it  therefore 
likely,  that  some  sort  of  dejection  as  to  the  highest 
of  all  interests  mingles  in  your  case,  I  shall  after- 
wards advert  to  this  ;  yet  assuming  that  intellectual 
debility  is  felt  and  acknowledged  by  yourself  as 
its    prevailing    symptom.       You    suffer,   then,    the 


240  MENTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


mortifying  consciousness,  that  your  power  to  think, 
— with  the  previous  clearness,  vivacity,  and  con- 
tinuance,^— is  now  interrupted  ;  that  the  mind  is  be- 
reft of  its  elasticity  and  strength.  You  feel,  it  may 
be,  as  if  the  invisible  organs  of  thought,  so  exqui- 
sitely framed  by  the  Great  Artificer  of  all  things, 
were  all  or  most  of  them  injured  or  withdrawn  ;  as 
if  "  the  wheel  "  were  "  broken  at  the  cistern  "  of 
truth ;  the  shining  coil  of  imagination  snapped  and 
motionless  ;  the  "  silver  cord  "  of  fancy  and  of  feel- 
ing deprived  of  all  its  tones,  and  "  mute  as  if  the 
soul  were  fled  ;"  the  lenses  or  mirrors  of  the  mind 
(to  repeat  a  former  allusion)  all  tinged  with  gloomy 
hues;  all  "sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast"  of 
thought. 

Or,  if  you  dislike  such  marked  and  extended  me- 
taphors in  describing  mental  powers  and  acts  and 
deficiencies,  (though  some  metaphors  we  needs  must 
use,)  you  feel,  at  least,  that  there  is  a  hidden  dis- 
ability beyond  your  skill  to  relieve,  and  which  it 
demands  all  your  faith  submissively  to  abide. 

Now  I  ask  you  not,  either  by  way  of  solace  or  re- 
proof, if  there  might  not  be,  in  some  grievous  bodily 
disease,  a  measure  of  afifliction  less  endurable  ;  for 
this  is  obviously  a  question  of  degree  :  it  would  in- 
deed be  most  presumptuous  for  you  to  conclude, 
that  He  who  made  us  could  not  inflict  a  corporal 
agony  which  might  surpass  yet  heavier  mental 
griefs  :  while  there  are,  on  the  contrary,  lighter 
bodily  pains  and  weaknesses,  for  which,  I  doubt  not, 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  241 

your  present  sorrow  would  be  thankfully  exchanged. 
But  I  ask  you — (and  it  behoves  us  all,  under  our 
several  modes  of  trial,  to  recollect  the  "  measured  " 
character  of  Divine  corrections) — would  the  adcli- 
tio7i  of  an  excruciating  bodily  pain,  supposing  it  of' 
course  not  to  deaden  or  obliterate  your  present  feel- 
ings, be  no  aggravation  of  them  ?  Would  no  ca- 
lamity or  guilt  of  your  dearest  connexions  increase 
your  actual  unhappiness?  Would  no  error,  vice,  or 
crime  into  which  you  might  fall,  add  sharpness  to 
what  you  undergo  ?  Such  queries  must  at  least 
convince  the  mind, — unless  its  malady  be  too  in- 
tense for  argument, — of  the  strong  reasons  which 
remain  for  unmurmuring  submission  ;  and  for  hold- 
ing fast  the  principle  of  gratitude,  though  the  happy 
emotion  may  not  be  excitable  beneath  that  load 
which  "  weighs  upon  the  heart."  I  address  you  as 
not  bereft  of  judgment,  not  wholly  insensible,  there- 
fore, to  the  force  of  these  considerations  ;  and  as  de- 
sirous of  being  ever  submissive  to  God's  will,  though 
much  and  often  failing  in  that  aim.  Let  me  now 
show  you  that  the  writer  of  these  lines  is  not  quite 
'*  unknowing  of  the  ill"  which  you  endure,  by 
entering  a  little  into  the  dark  views  which  you 
yourself  may  take  of  it.  I  am  fully  prepared  to 
agree  with  you,  that  such  an  affliction,  in  several 
respects,  exceeds  that  of  any  bodily  disease,  unless 
when  the  latter  is  extreme,  and  deemed  to  be  in- 
curable.    First,  because  this  mental  pain  involves 

Y 


242  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

in  itself  the  grievous  quality  of  prevalent  fear  ;  a 
deficiency  or  inertness  of  hope.  Fear  is  its  very 
essence  ;  fear  from  a  sense  of  inability  or  ill  desert, 
from  the  dark  undefined  perspective  of  all  future 
evils,  or  from  an  expectation  that  your  present  in- 
competence and  reluctance  to  the  offices  of  life  may 
be  heightened,  till  the  mind  be  wholly  paralysed  and 
overthrown.  Not  that  there  is  really  an  entire  ex- 
haustion of  that  which  "  springs  eternal  in  the  hu- 
man breast."  As  art  has  not  rendered  the  vacuum 
of  the  air-pump  absolute,  so  can  our  nature  scarcely 
experience,  in  its  present  condition,  a  really  total 
void  and  exclusion  of  hope.  But  even  art  can 
produce  a  vacuum  in  which  the  butterfly  seems 
lifeless,  and  the  thistledown  falls  like  lead  ;  and 
God  permits  sometimes  such  a  deep  destitution  of 
hope  within  the  heart,  that  the  slight  wing  of  fancy 
becomes  torpid,  and  the  very  motes  amidst  which  it 
fluttered,  are  all  sunk  and  still  :  so  that  it  may 
seem  to  the  sufferer  as  if  hope  were  extinct  for  ever  ; 
forgetting  that  He  with  whom  are  "  the  issues  of 
life,"  who  "  openeth  and  no  man  shutteth,"  not 
only  can  but  may  pour  in  a  life-renewing  stream, 
and  fill  the  soul  with  gladness.  Those  who  have 
had  proof  of  this, — who  have  hailed,  and  perhaps 
not  seldom,  that  reviving  change, — will,  of  course, 
be  comparatively  secure  against  even  the  imagined 
deprivation  of  all  hope.  If  Christians,  they  some- 
times, at  least,  will  acknowledge,  "  God  hafi  deliver- 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  243 

ed,"  and  He  may  '''yet  deliver."  Still  there  must 
remain  that  dismal  prevalence  of  fear,  which,  as 
was  before  said,  is  the  very  essence  of  dejection. 

This  wiU  suggest  distinctions,  as  plausible  as  they 
are  afflictive,  to  defeat  all  hopeful  inference  from 
former  restorations  ;  such  as  added  years  ;  the  in- 
veteracy of  the  evil ;  the  less  pardonable  because  re- 
lapsing acts  of  sin  or  folly  which  have  procured 
returning  chastisement :  and  though  all  this  may 
equally  apply  to  bodily  afflictions,  yet  it  is  obvious 
that  these  are  very  often  alleviated  by  hope ;  fre- 
quently just ;  but  sometimes  more  palpably  san- 
guine and  deceptive,  than  the  w^ant  of  it  in  mental 
illness  is  melancholic  and  deceptive  also. 

The  last-named  characteristic  contributes  to  an- 
other peculiarity  of  your  distress,  too  well  known 
by  those  who  have  endured  it, — namely,  that  some 
of  your  acquaintance  do  not  understand,  and  none 
(at  least  as  you  now  conceive)  can  estimate  it  fully. 
Indeed,  if  we  speak  strictly,  such  is  the  very  truth ; 
for  how  can  even  the  general  malady  (much  more 
the  special  case)  be  apprehended  in  its  weight  and 
keenness,  except  by  one  who  is  at  the  time  a  fellow- 
sufferer  ; — since  it  has  been  often  noticed,  both  in 
ourselves  and  others,  that  the  remembrance  and 
even  belief  of  mental  pain  is  far  from  clear  and 
realizing,  soon  after  a  contrary  state  of  mind  suc- 
ceeds ?  This  is  much  less  the  case  as  to  bodily  dis- 
orders ;  because  the  signs,  localities,  and  remedies 
of  these  have  been  usually  apparent  and  tangible  ; 


244  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

while  the  pangs  and  faintings  of  the  spirit,  the  vision- 
ary train  of  confusion  or  dismay,  the  flitting  host 
of  dark  evasive  shadows,  are  equally,  by  their  vague- 
ness and  their  multitude,  beyond  the  grasp  of  recol- 
lectioUe  So  that,  were  it  not  for  certain  proofs  de- 
rived from  words  or  acts  to  which  the  mind  is 
known  to  have  been  then  impelled,  or  from  written 
memorials  of  its  past  emotions,  there  might  be  not 
even  a  belief,  still  less  a  strong  remembrance,  that 
so  much  was  suffered.  Nor  can  even  those  proofs 
bring  back  (and  it  is  a  provision  of  mercy  that 
they  shall  not)  the  perception  of  that  which  they 
attest.  If,  in  mental  health,  we  could  plunge  into 
the  ideal  yet  not  unreal  past,  as  fully  as  in  mental 
sickness  we  imagine  and  concentrate  the  ideal 
though  uncertain  future,  it  were  hard  to  conceive  of 
our  tasting  present  good  with  tranquillity,  or  con- 
templating without  dread  the  probabilities  yet  un- 
revealed. 

But  since  it  is  thus,  and  kindly,  ordered,  that  the 
mind,  when  such  evils  have  ceased,  can  no  longer 
thoroughly  sympathize  with  its  past  self,  how  hope- 
less that  to  minds  of  a  mould  and  temperament 
quite  diverse,  they  should  be  intelligible.  The 
writer  was  once  joined  by  a  traveller  in  the  prime 
of  life,  whose  profession  claimed  of  him  to  "  weep 
with  them  that  weep,"  but  who  averred,  that  he  had 
"  never  felt  five  minutes'  pain."  A  fellow-traveller, 
happening  to  be  acquainted  with  this  stranger's 
history,  observed,  when  he  had  left  us,  that  "  in 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  245 

truth  he  ought  to  have  felt  much  pain  ;" — meaning 
pain  of  the  moral  kind.  But,  as  far  as  outward  in- 
dications could  be  trusted,  he  was  alike  unfamiliar 
with  any  and  with  every  kind.  If  it  may  be  thus, 
even  where  peculiar  cause  for  pain  exists,  and  where 
a  liberal  education  has  tried  its  softening  power, 
what  may  be  looked  for  from  those  in  whom  facul- 
ties slenderly  improved,  as  well  as  naturally  limited, 
are  joined  with  this  insusceptibility  1  What  wonder 
if  the  spectacle  of  your  "  dulness,"  "  fancifulness," 
and  "  mopishness,"  should  tune  such  "  hearts  of  oak" 
and  "  nerves  of  wire," 

"  To  wit  that  puppet  prompters  might  inspire." 

The  poignant  remonstrance,  full  at  once  of  pathos 
and  of  sarcasm,  from  which  these  phrases  are  bor- 
rowed, must  have  done  much  in  our  own  land, 
where  such  afflictions  are  thought  to  have  peculiar 
prevalence,  towards  awakening  the  more  capable 
and  instructed  to  a  deeper  view  of  trials  which  per- 
sonally they  may  have  not  endured  ;  teaching  them 
at  least  the  neglected  lesson,  that  "  sorrow  is  a  sacred 
thing."  Yet  there  are  men  both  strongly  intelligent, 
and  on  some  points  strongly  susceptible,  who  will 
fail  to  understand  your  sadness.  Their  own  vigour 
and  fortitude  seem  to  preclude  their  conceiving  it. 
With  them  it  is  but  matter  of  faith,  (if  I  may  so 
use  the  term,)  and  not  of  comprehension.  They 
will  not  deride,  but  they  cannot  condole.  In  fact, 
although  "  the  harp  of  thousand  strings,"  as  our 
Y   3 


246  MEJJTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


frame  has  been  poetically  termed,  displays  to 
anatomists  such  complex  wonders  as  might  almost 
warrant  the  hyperbole  of  '''ten  thousand  thousand" 
in  another  poet, — and  though  this  figure  is  yet  more 
appropriate,  in  many  cases,  to  the  mind, — there  are 
some  minds  which  should  be  rather  compared  to 
the  finest  wind  instruments,  vocal  without  a  string ; 
they  have  strains  both  soft  and  sonorous  :  a  violent 
shock  would  mar  them  :  but  as  they  cannot  yield 
tones  like  the  chords  of  the  more  fragile,  so  they 
cannot  well  estimate  an  untuning  of  which  they  are 
themselves  not  capable. 

You  lately  suffered,  it  may  be,  from  a  fracture  or 
dislocation;  from  the  failure  of  a  merchant;  from 
the  death  or  peril  of  a  dear  connexion  :  those  friends 
could  then  heartily  feel  with  you  : — you  now  suffer 
more  and  longer,  and  they  are  only  perplexed  at 
you  ;  or  even  may  not  discern  the  existence  of  a 
malady,  which  you  would  certainly  despair  of  ex- 
plaining. It  may  thus  happen  that  (although  in 
society)  you  suffer  without  sympathy,  justly  hope- 
less of  convincing  others  that  your  pain  is  not  a 
weakness,  whimsical  and  self-created.  You  are 
quite  aware  that,  when  it  is  estimated  thus,  there 
must  be  consequently  a  disposition  to  censure  and 
contempt,  degrees  of  which  may  even  mingle  and 
alternate  with  friendly  Concern  ;  since  irresolution 
and  infirmity  of  temper  and  purpose,  while  the  will 
seems  in  any  sense  free,  can  rarely  be  viewed  with 
unmixed   compassion  or  unimpaired  respect.     You 


XII. 


OR    DEBILITY.  247 


will  also  be  exceedingly  prone  to  exaggerate  these 
penalties  by  suspicion  ;  (for  such  is  the  bias  of  your 
mental  state;)  to  imagine  that  your  "  friends  scorn" 
you  ;  and  that  you  detect  the  sentiment  which  they 
study  to  conceal.  Nor  are  you  without  degrees  of 
self-reproach  and  self-contempt,  which  make  you 
regard  as  more  probable,  more  just,  and  more  afflict- 
ive, the  sentiments  ascribed  to  those  around  you. 
You  perceive  some  vices  of  the  mind  by  which  your 
malady  is  heightened,  and  which  it  nourishes  ;  for 
when,  in  our  corrupt  nature,  is  not  moral  disorder 
implicated  with  the  intellectual  ?  You  detect  some- 
times pride,  or  cowardice,  or  sloth,  adroitly  borrow- 
ing for  shelter  the  tattered  cloak  of  your  infirmities. 
Besides,  that  very  pride,  concurring  with  the  blunt- 
ed moral  perceptions  which  indicate  our  fall, 
prompts  us  inwardly  to  despise  weakness  more  than 
sin  ;  and  of  weakness  you  are  now  acutely  conscious : 
for  you  cannot  but  suspect  that  some  of  the  spectral 
forms  which  confront  you,  are,  in  truth,  but  insects, 
seen,  as  by  the  most  powerful  microscope,  in  the 
magic  glass  of  fear.  Thus  the  sense  of  culpability 
and  that  of  self-delusion  combining,  disquiet  and 
dishearten  you  afresh. 

Further,  as  was  before  remarked,  your  disorder 
can  scarcely  fail  to  affect  the  state  of  spiritual  feel- 
ing. An  accession  of  sensibility  will  give  vividness 
to  the  remembrance  of  guilt,  and  darken  every 
awful  anxious  contemplation.  It  is  not  my  object 
now  to  enlarge  on  this  class  of  your  griefs,  but  I 


248  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

will  not  overlook  it,  especially  as  it  may  be  for 
these  you  most  despair  of  an  adequate  and  real 
sympathy. 

Friends  who  possess,  as  to  other  points  of  your 
distress,  refined  discernment,  true  affection,  and  a 
degree  of  personal  experience,  may  yet,  it  is  painful 
to  reflect,  no  way  conceive  the  spiritual  anxieties  you 
encounter,  nor  appreciate  the  Christian  peace  which 
you  have  lost,  or  which  you  are  earnest  to  secure  : 
so  that  amidst  the  confidential  intercourse  of  as- 
siduous kindness,  the  deepest  of  your  wants  and 
sorrows  may  be  inexplicable  still. 

Although  it  be  too  common,  for  it  is  often  super- 
fluous and  fruitless,  to  expend  thought  and  time  in 
delineating  an  evil,  rather  than  in  urging  means  or 
considerations  that  may  alleviate  or  remove  it,  I 
have  held  the  present  an  excepted  case  ;  because  it 
is  the  well-known  complaint  of  most  who  undergo 
this  kind  of  trials,  that  they  are  not  comprehended, 
and  perhaps  cannot  be.  Even  the  faint  views  now 
given  may  somewhat  tend  to  disprove  this,  and 
show  that  your  afiliction  is,  at  least  in  its  leading 
characters,  "  common  to  man."  Every  complex 
malady  is  indeed  in  some  sort  unique  ;  like  every 
brier,  and  every  tarantula,  it  is  unlike  each  beside  ; 
yet  the  species  is  the  same.  You  will  say  that  I 
have  not  given  the  colouring,  nor  sounded  the 
depth,  of  what  you  feel ;  nor  touched  with  precision 
the  especial  points  of  your  discomfort.  This  is  ad- 
mitted ;  and  more  than  this, — again  I  must  remind 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  249 

you,  —  when  it  shall  please  God  to  restore  your 
vigour  or  tranquillity,  you  will  yourself  have  lost 
the  power  to  do  so.  But  if  an  unwilling  traveller 
through  the  passes  of  St.  Gothard  or  the  desert  of 
Sennaar,  find  proof  in  the  sketch-book  of  another 
that  those  wilds  have  been  crossed,  he  must  not  infer 
from  the  slightness  or  defects  of  the  outlines,  that  it 
was  not  amidst  storms  and  snows  as  fearful,  or  thirst 
as  insupportable,  as  he  himself  endures. 

It  is  time,  however,  that  I  attempt,  more  directly, 
to  re-animate  that  hope,  which  may  be  now  but  as 
a  buried  spark. 

We  will  assume, — to  put  it  at  the  worst, — that 
this  affliction  is  to  you  a  new  and  "  strange  thing," 
a  calamity  unfelt  before  ;  or  else  that,  although  you 
must  admit  some  similar  trial  past,  and  therefore 
some  former  recovery,  you  can  yet  assign  to  your- 
self such  important  and  melancholy  differences  in 
its  present  causes  or  aspects,  as  seem  to  preclude 
the  comfort  that  might  otherwise  justly  be  deduced 
from  any  previous  instance  of  relief.  You  feel^ 
therefore,  sometimes,  like  a  lonely  seaman  in  a  shat- 
tered bark,  reduced  to  the  scantiest  allowances,  and 
with  the  dread  that  these  must  fail  him  ere  he  reach 
the  haven.  Your  small  remainder  of  hope  and 
energy  is  wasting,  and  you  "  know  not  what  shall 
be  on  the  morrow."  But  forget  not,  I  pray, 
that  this  very  ignorance  of  the  morrow,  combined 
with  your  knowledge  of  the  good  providence  of 
God,  should   itself  withhold  you  from  an  absolute 


250  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

despondency.  His  power  to  relieve  and  rescue,  it 
were  atheism  to  doubt.  But  I  ask,  whether  as  to 
his  will,  and  the  usual  methods  of  his  government, 
there  be  in  any  case  more  ground  to  hope  for  his 
immediate  succour,  than  in  such  as  yours  ? — imme- 
diate, not  in  the  sense  of  instant,  but  of  being  not 
conveyed  through  any  perceptible  means.  True, 
both  reason  and  revelation  testify  that  He  "  up- 
holdeth  all  things,"  the  body  as  well  as  the  spirit ; 
and  that,  by  whatever  instrument,  "  He  woundeth 
and  his  hands  make  whole."  "^  But  yet  we  feel 
and  observe  that  mind  has  a  more  immediate  action 
upon  mind.  Even  human  minds  swiftly  inform, 
excite,  console,  dissuade,  or  stimulate  each  other, 
by  the  slightest  symbols  of  thought,  sometimes  by 
one  whispered  word,  one  speaking  look,  one  instan- 
taneous gesture.  How  much  more  shall  He  who 
pervestigates  and  sustains  our  very  being,  be  likely 
to  reverse  and  rectify  its  inmost  state,  without  any 
medium ;  or  if  by  a  medium,  yet  through  some 
change  of  function,  suggestion,  or  motive,  so  latent 
and  so  transitory,  as  to  be  utterly  indiscernible  by 
us  1  If  therefore  you  think  or  say, — My  powers  of 
mind,  or  my  peace  of  mind,  cannot  be  restored 
without  a  miracle, — remember  that,  in  reference  to 
mind,  that  which,  as  it  respects  the  absence  or 
latency  of  means,  will  appear  as  if  miraculous,  is 
not  at  all  improbable.     It  is  true,  that  because  the 

*  Job  V.  18. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  251 

sequence  of  our  mental  states  cannot  be  viewed  as 
subject  to  fixed  laws,*  such  changes,  however  great 
and  immediate,  would  not  be  what  we  term  miracles. 
But  when  mental  illness  is  removed,  as  it  frequently 
is,  in  a  manner  entirely  hidden  and  unsearchable, 
to  w^hat  should  a  theist  ascribe  this  but  to  the 
sovereign  act  of  God  ?  Such  instances  graciously 
assert  his  prerogative  and  title  as  "  the  Father  of 
spirits : "  and  from  the  twofold  warrant  of  observ- 
ation and  experience,  some  can  aver  that  they  are 
not  unfrequent.  In  your  kind  of  affliction,  there- 
fore, there  is  peculiar  ground  for  hope,  (though  so 
little  actual  possession  of  it,)  that  you  may  be  fully 
and  speedily  relieved  by  an  unseen  but  ever-present 
Power. 

Yet  I  would  rather  insist  on  instances  less  unex- 
pected and  surprising ;  because  these  are  more 
numerous  ;  and  because,  having  ensued  on  the  use 
of  fitting  means,  they  cannot  be  perverted  (as  the 
others  might  be  if  they  stood  alone)  to  defend  a 
neglect  of  such.  Besides,  some  young  persons  may 
encounter  a  temporary  ebbing  of  the  spirits  from 
the  vivacity  of  childhood,  into  pensiveness  and 
gloom,  without  being  apprized,  while  their  social 
circle  and  their  knowledge  of  biography  are  small, 
how  incident  this  has  been  to  thoughtful  minds 
before  them.     The  Holy  Scripture, — though  I  shall 

*  See  Thoughts  on  Private  Devotion,  pp.  49,  50,  and  p.  54. 


252  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XH. 

not  suppose  it,  by  any  reader  of  these  lines,  an 
unexamined  book, — may  not  have  been  at  all  com- 
sulted  in  this  view.  If  it  be  so,  there  will  be  found 
strong  indications  of  such  feelings  in  one  of  the 
very  noblest  among  sacred  writers.  Many  are  the 
passages  in  his  Psalms,  which,  though  they  may  be 
applied  to  the  pressure  of  bodily  sickness  or  ex- 
ternal griefs,  have  yet  such  superior  appositeness  to 
spiritual  pains,  and  to  reliefs  obtained  from  them, 
as  appears  to  indicate  that  they  were  chiefly  so 
prompted  and  designed.  Indeed  the  temperament 
of  their  author  would  itself  be  a  strong  presump- 
tion of  this.  Thus  the  first  of  "  harps,"  "  the  soul 
of  David,"  far  more  powerful  and  harmonious 
than  his  "  instrument  of  ten  strings,"  was  some- 
times, at  least  in  his  own  esteem,  untuned  ;  "  dumb 
with  silence,"  "  so  troubled  that  he  could  not 
speak."  Thus  also  the  lyre  of  that  "  lamenting  " 
prophet,  whose  elegy  Bishop  Lowth  has  pronounced 
unrivalled,  expresses,  amidst  many  outward  calami- 
ties, griefs  peculiar  to  a  dejected  heart,^  and  the 
pious  thoughts  and  hopes  which  conduced  to  allay 
them.  Thus  the  harp  of  our  Herbert,  one  of  the 
sweetest  and  holiest  that  were  ever  waked  in  Britain, 
descants  on  the  depressions  and  revivals  of  his  own 
spirit  with  that  grateful  wonder  which  betokens  no 
feigned  experience. 

*  Lamentations  iii. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  253 

"  Who  would  have  thought  my  shrivelled  heart 

Could  have  recover'd  greenness  ?     It  was  gone 
Quite  underground :  as  flowers  depart 

To  see  their  mother-root  when  they  have  blown  ; 
Where  they,  together, 
All  the  hard  weather, 
Dead  to  the  world,  keep  house  unknown. 


And  now  in  age  I  bud  again  : 

After  so  many  deaths  I  live  and  write  : 
I  once  more  smell  the  dew  and  rain. 
And  relish  versing.     O  my  only  Light, 
It  cannot  be 
That  I  am  he. 
On  whom  thy  tempests  fell  all  night. 

These  are  thy  wonders,  Lord  of  love  ! 

To  make  us  see  we  are  but  flow'rs  that  glide ; 
Which  when  we  once  can  find  and  prove. 
Thou  hast  a  garden  for  us  where  to  'bide. 
Who  would  be  more. 
Swelling  through  store. 
Forfeit  their  paradise  by  their  pride."  * 

But  if  only  poets  and  divines  were  mentioned,  it 
might  be  erroneously  supposed,  or  falsely  insinuated, 
that  such  afflictions  have  arisen  from  the  imagin- 
ative character  of  the  one  class,  or  the  grave  and 
awful  vocation  of  the  other.  Let  me  add,  there- 
fore, that  the  philosophic  Boyle  has  described  -his 
own  dejection,  occurring  in  the  midst  of  youth  and 
variety,  and  the  advantages  of  prosperous  station, 

*  Herbert's  Poems— The  Flower,  pp.  211,  212.     Ed.  1826. 
z 


254  MENTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


as  so  profoundly  painful,  that  ''  although  his  looks 
did  little  betray  his  thoughts,  nothing  but  the  for- 
biddenness  of  self-despatch  hindered  his  committing 
it ;  "=^  and  records,  that  under  this  melancholy  state 
of  mind  he  laboured  many  months. 

Even  the  more  illustrious  Newton,  endowed,  as 
his  able  biographer  observes,  "  with  an  intellectual 
strength  which  had  unbarred  the  strong  holds  of 
the  universe,"  distinguished  also  by  "  unbroken 
equanimity,"  and  by  "  weakness  of  imaginative 
powers,"  yet,  apparently  from  the  influence  of  some 
disappointments,  endured  in  middle  life  an  op- 
pressive "  nervous  disorder."  He  wrote,  "  I  have 
neither  ate  nor  slept  well  this  twelvemonth,  nor 
have  my  former  consistency  of  mind."  The  at- 
tempt, indeed,  of  French  sceptics,  to  represent  this 
temporary  illness  as  a  continued  mental  aberration 
and  decay,  has  been  most  justly  rebuked  and  tho- 
roughly defeated  ;  yet  the  true  statement  of  the 
case  suffices  to  remind  us  that  the  mightiest  mind 
is  easily  vulnerable  ;  while  the  entire  recovery  and 
very  prolonged  healthfulness,  both  bodily  and  men- 
tal, of  this  eminent  man,  who,  at  the  age  of  eighty, 
"  was  fully  able  to  understand  his  own  Principia," 
afford  a  cheering  memorial  of  the  kindness  of 
Providence. t  Will  not  these  signal  and  indisput- 
able examples  forbid  you  to  despond  ?     If  you  are 

*  Quoted  in  Jones's  Cliristian  Biography — Article  Boyle, 
t  See  Sir  David  Brewster's  Life  of  Newton,  pp.  224,  232,  234, 
235,  318,  319. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  255 

tempted  to  distinguish  and  separate  your  own  case 
from  all  of  them,  as  marked  by  some  peculiar  guilt, 
and  having  in  it  a  punitive  character  which  no  one 
of  those  might  partake,  consider  whether  you  are 
not  questioning,  as  it  respects  others,  the  testimony 
of  Scripture,  that  all  men  deeply  need  correction 
from  the  hand  of  God  ;  or  else  refusing,  in  your  own 
case,  the  testimony  of  that  same  Scripture,  that, 
when  the  Father  of  our  spirits  corrects,  even  most 
severely,  he  does  it  "  for  our  profit." 

Now  in  the  greater  number  of  such  restorations, 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  appropriate 
means  v»^ere  not  omitted  :  and  I  therefore  indulge 
the  hope  that  when  a  few  of  these,  although  they 
will  possess  no  novelty,  are  suggested  to  your  atten- 
tion, you  will  not  prejudge  or  reject  them  as  neces. 
sarily  unavailing. 

I  would  admonish  you,  in  the  first  place,  not  to  act 
on  those  mistaken  impressions  which  may  urge  you  to 
conclude,  that  physical  causes  have  little  or  no  part 
in  your  present  affliction.  Moral  causes  and  intel- 
lectual symptoms  are  perhaps,  to  your  consciousness, 
so  predominant,  that  you  are  disposed  to  account 
what  is  bodily  (if  indeed  perceived  by  you)  to  be 
merely  incidental,  and  of  no  weight  or  moment.  But 
permit  me  to  say,  you  have  neither  power  nor  right 
to  decide  this  question,  without  that  comj^lete  inte- 
rior survey  of  your  being  which  it  must  be  an  ex- 
travagant pretension  for  man  to  assume  ;  and  which 
perhaps  belongs,  exclusively,  to  Him  who  formed 
z  i 


256  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

US.  You  were  above  reminded  that,  in  such  disease, 
the  point  of  origination  and  the  predisposing  causes 
are  for  the  most  part  hidden.  So  therefore  doubt- 
less may  its  complex  character  remain.  The  bodily 
state  may  intimately  affect  the  mind,  even  when 
there  is  no  sensible  bodily  ailment.  It  is  not  that 
I  would  recommend  you  to  adopt  complicated  or 
violent,  or  prolonged  medicinal  means.  Upright 
and  able  professors  of  the  healing  art  will  them- 
selves rarely  counsel  you  to  this.  They  have  often 
merited  and  v/on  the  confidence  and  gratitude  of 
such  patients  by  a  contrary  advice  ;  by  prescribing 
only  the  gentler  and  the  simpler  remedies,  and  by 
enforcing  rather  the  curative  properties  of  genial 
air,  of  moderate  labour,  of  active  and  extended 
though  not  distracting  change.  Follow,  as  much  as 
may  be,  those  disinterested  and  experienced  coun- 
sels, and  discard  your  own  fallacious  notion  that 
these  expedients  are  quite  indifferent  and  fruitless, 
because  it  is  the  mind  which  suffers.  Recollect  that 
the  mind,  though  not  matter,  is  not  disembodied; 
that  it  receives  its  impressions  and  performs  its 
functions  by  a  system  of  material  organs ;  that 
whatever  therefore  can  restore  and  invigorate  the 
action  of  these  organs,  directly  tends  to  re-establish 
its  capacities  of  cheerful,  vigorous  exertion  ;  nor 
can  this  re-establishment  be  often  expected  without 
some  attendant  bodily  change,  however  slight  and 
undiscerned. 

Let   me  further  advise    vou  (as  far   as  circum- 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  257 

Stances  may  adnnt)  to  choose  at  present  that  kind 
of  intellectual  engagement,  and  limit  yourself  to 
that  share  of  it,  which  are  proportioned  to  your 
mental  state.  The  sufferer  from  visible  and  known 
bodily  illness,  whether  general  or  local,  will  usu- 
ally, without  hesitation,  observe  this  obvious  rule. 
But  not  unfrequently,  I  believe,  in  mental  illness, 
the  more  strenuous  kinds  of  effort  are,  on  some 
erroneous  ground  of  judgment  or  feeling,  too  much 
attempted  and  pursued.  No  convalescent  from 
fever  is  ashamed  or  self-reproved  at  feeling  unable 
or  unfit  to  climb  a  steep  ascent,  nor  will  he  there- 
fore have  a  distaste  for  seeking  exercise  and  re- 
freshment in  some  more  level  paths  until  his 
strength  return.  But  the  student,  or  member  of  a 
studious  profession,  who  can  assign  to  himself  no 
palpable  undeniable  reason  why  a  long  calculation 
should  perplex,  or  a  train  of  investigation  weary 
him,  may  feel  it  a  dereliction  of  duty  to  decline  his 
accustomed  pursuits  ;  until  the  new  experience  of 
present  inaptitude,  and  the  mortifying  sense  of  dis- 
appointment, combined  with  the  exhaustion  of  this 
ill-timed  effort,  still  more  depress  his  mind. 

To  remark  that  this  should,  if  possible,  be  avoid- 
ed, is  not  to  inculcate  indolence  and  inaction,  but 
only  that  selection  of  mental  occupations  which 
will  not  increase  your  illness  or  your  painful  sense 
of  it. 

There  are  those  who  will  say  to  you — Resist  these 
feelings ;  give  them  battle ;  resolutely  vanquish 
z  3 


258  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XIK 

and  suppress  them.  —  Even  friends  who  in  some 
measure  understand  your  affliction,  may  sometimes, 
with  the  kindest,  best  intentions,  urge  this  on 
you.  Shall  I  second  and  enforce  5wc7i  exhortations  ? 
— Besides  that  I  would  not  willingly  lose  or  impair 
your  confidence — I  could  not  do  so  in  sincerity  :  but 
must  rather  assent  to  what  you  perhaps  may  an- 
swer, that  as  well  might  you  be  enjoined  to  change 
the  weight  of  the  atmosphere,  as  to  remove  by  an 
effort  the  pain  or  weakness  which  you  suffer.  Yet 
I  firmly  unite  with  your  best  friends  in  saying, — it 
is  a  state,  which,  except  it  were  the  will  of  Heaven 
to  aggravate,  you  can,  as  hitherto,  for  a  while  en- 
dure. Do  not  cast  into  the  cup  new  ingredients  of 
despondency,  nor  make  it  bitterly  effervesce  by  your 
repinings.  Do  not  omit  duties,  if  at  present  indis- 
pensable, because  they  are  burdensome  ;  nor  aban- 
don others  permanently,  because  they  cannot  at 
this  season  be  performed.  Pursue,  however  feebly, 
what  is  fittest  now  to  be  pursued.  The  sick  or 
wounded  soldier  cannot  make  a  rapid  march  or  hold 
the  front  of  battle.  But  he  may  perhaps  be  the  sen- 
tinel even  of  to-day.  He  may  occupy  the  trench 
or  rampart :  and,  if  not  even  so — shall  he  therefore 
cast  away  his  armour  ?  Another  sun,  another 
conflict,  may  find  him,  re-endued  with  strength 
and  ardour,  among  the  foremost  bands.  Mean- 
time forget  not. — "  They  also  serve  who  only  stand 
and  wait:"  —  and  that  service,  as  performed  in 
weakness  and  in  loneliness,  may  be  the  hardest  of 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  259 

all  ;  the  most  decisive  of  their  loyalty  and  faithful 
zeal. 

Having  thus  alluded  to  the  Christian  warfare, 
it  is  surely  most  appropriate  for  me  to  remind  you, 
in  this  peculiar  exigency,  to  look  for  help  from  Hea- 
ven. When  St.  Paul  exhorted  his  brethren,  "  Take 
unto  you  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that  ye  may  be 
able  to  withstand  in  the  evil  day,"  he  at  once  sub- 
joined the  comprehensive  injunction,  "  Praying  al- 
ways with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in  the  spi- 
rit:"*—  and  the  remarks  already  offered  on  the 
immediate  character  of  that  relief  from  mental  ill- 
ness which  is  sometimes  realized,  afford  you  especial 
encouragement  to  use  this  great  resource.  Not  that 
we  are  warranted  to  expect  a  blessing  on  prayer  in 
the  perverse  or  indolent  neglect  of  other  means  : 
yet  may  the  Father  of  our  spirits  see  fit  often  to  ac- 
cept it,  not  merely  as  the  paramount  means  of  his 
rendering  those  others  effectual,  but  also  as  that 
which  shall  avail  instead  of  them.  This  may  hap- 
pen likewise  in  bodily  restorations ;  yet  their  more 
frequent  connexion  with  physical  means  is  too  ob- 
vious to  be  questioned  ;  so  that,  to  mental  healing, 
prayer  is  far  more  likely  to  become  the  immediate 
antecedent. 

Besides,  as  far  as  your  distress  is  really,  and  on 
just  grounds,  of  a  moral  and  spiritual  kind,  so  far 
you  cannot  rightly  look  to  physical  means  for  its 

*  Eph.  vi.  13  and  18. 


260  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

removal,  nor,  I  am  persuaded,  will  you.  Here 
therefore  prayer,  grounded  on  the  study  of  God's 
promises,  which  will  ever  prompt  it,  is  your  exclu- 
sive resource.  And  let  me  add, — if  they  be  indeed 
God's  promises,  ultimate  success  is  not  dubious. 
The  cure  of  bodily  disease  may,  for  wise  reasons, 
not  be  granted  ;  and  when  a  few  years  are  come,  it 
assuredly  will  not :  the  cure  of  intellectual  debility 
or  pain  may  be  mysteriously  withholden  :  but  the 
attainment  or  recovery  of  spiritual  safety  (I  affirm 
not  this  of  spiritual  joy)  is  as  sure  to  the  persever- 
ing suppliant  as  the  word  of  God  is  true.  Either 
the  gospel  you  have  heard  must  be  a  false  and 
imaginary  gospel,  (and  that  supposition,  however 
gloomy  in  itself,  would  annihilate  any  alarms  which 
its  solemn  statements  and  its  defective  reception  had 
inspired,)  —  or  else,  the  promises  of  the  true  and 
"  everlasting  gospel,"  so  boundless  in  their  extent  and 
adaptedness,  must  needs  be  available  for  you.  "All 
manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy,"  said  our  gracious 
Redeemer,  "  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men,"  that  is, 
to  the  penitent  who  implore  forgiveness.  The  ex- 
ception made  of  "  blasphemy  against  the  Holy- 
Ghost,"  is  no  exception  affecting  the  penitent,  but 
must  be  understood  to  involve  in  its  very  nature 
a  hard  contumacious  continued  impenitence.  Those 
who  thus  "  resist  the  Holy  Ghost,"  and  "  trample 
under  foot  "  redeeming  blood,  are  persons  who,  so 
far  from  "  coming  to  Christ,"  contemptuously  alto- 
gether reject  him. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  261 

"  Him  that  cometh  to  me,"  (that  merciful  Saviour 
proclaimed,)  "  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  "  If 
we  confess  our  sins,  God  is  faithful  and  just  to  for- 
give us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  unright- 
eousness." "  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  Son, 
cleanseth  from  all  sin."  Here,  therefore,  contrite 
prayer  is  the  sole  but  the  infallible  refuge. 

"  This  condition"  (observes  Dr.  Owen)  "  is  a  sin- 
entangled  soul  ofttimes  reduced  to  ;  it  can  discover 
nothing  but  this,  that  God  is  able,  and  can,  if  He 
graciously  please,  relieve  and  acquit  him. — Where- 
fore they  cast  themselves  on  God's  sovereign  plea- 
sure, and  say  with  Job,  '  Though  He  slay  us  we  will 
put  our  trust  in  Him.' — We  see  not  our  signs  and 
tokens  any  more ;  evidences  of  God's  grace  in  us, 
or  of  his  love  and  favour  to  us,  are  all  out  of  sight. 
— Nor  is  there  relief  to  be  had  but  by  and  from  Him. 
We  will  then  bring  our  guilty  souls  into  His  presence  : 
what  He  speaks  concerning  us  we  will  willingly 
submit  to.  And  this  sometimes  proves  an  anchor 
to  a  tossed  soul ;  which  though  it  gives  it  not  rest 
and  peace,  yet  saves  it  from  the  rock  of  despair. 
Here  it  abides  until  light  more  and  more  breaks 
forth  upon  it."*  But  I  am  not  forgetful  that, 
whether  your  distress  be  chiefly  of  the  intellectual 
or  the  moral  cast,  if  it  be  severe,  if  it  prostrate  and 
debilitate  the  powers,  you  will  tell  me  that  you 
cannot    pray.      And    truly    if    prayer    necessarily 

*  Owen  on  Psa.  cxxx.,  pp.  150,  151,  abridged.     See  also  Fene- 
lon,  CEuv.  Spir.  t.  iv.  p.  311.     (Lettre  au  P^re  L'Ami.) 


262  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XTI. 

included  a  self-conceived,  orderly,  fluent,  unbroken 
utterance  of  thoughts  before  God,  such  as  would 
beseem  the  office  of  one  who  conducts  606v'«/ worship, 
then  might  you  justly  plead  a  present  inability. 
But  that  this  is  far  from  being  the  case,  may  be 
most  conclusively  and  variously  shown  by  a  refer- 
ence either  to  Scripture  facts  or  to  general  consider- 
ations. It  may  no  doubt  be  fit  that  such  a  kind  of 
prayers  be  offered  even  "  in  secret,"  whenever  and 
wherever  the  present  capacity  is  bestowed  ;  for  our 
Maker  is  surely  entitled  to  the  best  of  that  intel- 
lectual strength  which  at  last  must  be  weakness  in 
his  sight.  But  even  then  the  mental  exertion,  the 
vigour  of  thought,  the  aptitude  of  diction  and  of  dis- 
tribution, are  clearly  not  the  essence  of  devotion, 
but  its  adjuncts.  That  prayers  may  not  be  the  less 
*'  fervent  and  effectual  "  because  not  vocal,  nor  pro- 
longed, nor  continuous,  nor  varied,  is  evinced  by 
those  of  Nehemiah  when  he  stood  before  the  king  ; 
of  the  sorrowful  Hannah  ;  of  the  contrite  publican  ; 
and  even  of  our  blessed  Saviour  himself  in  his  hour 
of  mental  anguish.  But  indeed,  were  it  otherwise, 
how  should  the  child,  the  illiterate,  the  speechless, 
the  sick,  the  dying,  offer  prayer  ?  Yet  all  these 
peculiarly  need  to  ofier  it ;  and  when  happily 
awakened  to  their  wants,  do,  by  Divine  help,  and 
with  Divine  acceptance,  yet  without  any  removal  of 
natural  imperfection  or  infirmity,  pray,  "  in  spirit 
and  in  truth."  "  Jehovah  heareth  the  poor,  and 
despiseth  not  his  prisoners." 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  263 


— "  A  broken  heart  shall  please  Him  more 
Than  the  best  forms  of  speech." 

Nor  have  some  of  the  most  gifted  as  well  as  devoted 
suppliants  been  exempt  from  seasons  of  weakness,  or 
of  mental  bondage,  which  compelled  them  to  take 
refuge  in  these  views  of  the  alone  essential  qualities 
of  prayer.  Such  a  state  is  affectingly  expressed  by 
A'Kempis.  ^'  Oh  let  my  sighing  move  thee,  and 
my  manifold  desolation  here  below.  Jesus,  bright- 
ness of  eternal  glory,  solace  of  the  pilgrim  spirit, 
before  Thee  my  lips  are  voiceless,  and  my  silence 
cries  to  Thee,  —  how  long  shall  my  Lord  delay  ? 
I  am  wretched,  imprisoned,  laden  with  fetters,  till 
thou  revive  me  with  the  light  of  thy  presence,  and 
bestow  new  freedom."*  It  is  remarkable  that  the 
excellent  Scougal,  a  bright  ornament  of  the  Scottish 
episcopal  church,  has  described  prayer  which  is  not 
oral,  nor  even  silently  verbal,  as  the  highest  kind  of 
devotion  ;  not  the  resource  of  weakness,  but  the  ex- 
pedient of  intense,  unutterable  feeling.  He  writes, 
"  This  mental  prayer  is  of  all  other  the  most  effec- 
tual to  purify  the  soul,  and  dispose  it  unto  a  holy 
and  religious  temper  ;  and  may  be  termed  the  great 

*  De  Imitat.  Christi.  1.  iii.  c.  21.  p.  111.  The  expressions  of  the 
original  are  beautiful.  "  Moveat  to  suspirium  meum  et  desolatio 
multiplex  in  terra.  O  Jesu,  splendor  aternae  gloriae,  solamen  pere- 
grinantis  animae,  apud  te  est  os  meum  sine  voce,  et  silentium  meum 
loquitur  tibi — usquequo  tardat  venire  Dominus  mens  ? — Miser  sum, 
et  quodammodo  incarceratus,  et  compedibus  gravatus,  donee  luce 
proesentiae  tuae  me  reficias,  ac  libertati  dones." 


264  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

secret  of  devotion,  and  one  of  the  most  powerful 
instruments  of  the  divine  life.  Certainly  a  few  of 
these  inward  aspirations  will  do  more  than  a  great 
many  fluent  and  melting  expressions."* 

Now  although  this  exalted  kind  of  mental  prayer, 
which  the  author  describes  as  the  result  of  deep 
previous  meditation,  be  exceedingly  different  from 
any  which  you  can  at  present  offer, — yet  his  esti- 
mate of  silent  devotion  in  general  may  conduce  to 
forbid  your  depreciating  or  counting  for  nought  your 
voiceless  "  supplication  in  the  spirit,"  however  con- 
fused, incoherent,  or  oppressed. 

Not  that  you  are  advised  to  acquiesce  even  now 
in  such  a  kind  of  worship  only.  Aids  to  oral  devo- 
tion are  of  easy  access.  Those  who  most  disapprove 
the  use,  as  well  as  prescription,  of  forms,  would  cer- 
tainly not  contend  that  the  words  of  all  true  prayer 
must  be  wholly  self-originated.  Such  a  notion 
would  exclude  those  scriptural  phrases  by  which  the 
best  of  what  are  called  free  prayers  are  in  general 
abundantly  enriched.  Possessing  therefore  a  Bible, 
or  even  a  Psalter,  you  can  be  at  no  loss  for  the  form 
and  matter  of  devotion.  What  so  apposite  to  your 
dejected  state  as  some  of  the  petitionary  Psalms  ? 
Their  very  want  of  apparent  continuity  and  method, 
as  well  as  their  simple  but  intense  language  of  com- 
plaint and  entreaty,  may  render  them  more  conso- 
nant than  any  prayers  which  can  be  found  elsewhere, 

*  "  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,"  a  little  work  distinguished 
by  exalted  piety,  chaste  beauty  of  style,  and  calm  sobriety  of  thought. 


Xri.  OR    DEBILITY.  265 

at  once  with  the  feebleness  and  with  the  sorrows  of 
your  mind.  Select  the  passages  which  are  most  ap- 
propriate. On  such  engraft,  or  with  such  some- 
times intermingle,  those  brief  variations  of  confes- 
sion or  petition  which  your  case  may  dictate  : — it  is 
only  the  spirit  of  atheism  which  doubts  that  such 
prayers  are  heard,  and  only  that  of  distrust  in  Christ's 
advocacy  which  doubts  that  (if  the  heart  go  with 
them)  they  will  be  mercifully  answered. 

Once  more,  allow  me  to  warn  and  solicit  you  in 
the  spirit  of  Christian  friendship, — shun  every  new 
source  of  moral  and  spiritual  pain,  every  indulgence 
of  imagination  or  conduct  which  your  heart  con- 
demns. You  may  very  fitly  "  have  left  undone" 
certain  things  which,  in  another  state  of  mind,  you 
"  ought  to  have  done  :  " — but  beware  lest  you  now 
yield,  more  readily  than  at  other  periods,  to  do  or 
meditate  those  things  which  you  "  ought  wo/." 
Your  present  state  of  feeling  has  its  especial  tempt- 
ations ;  and  those  may  be  now  strong  which  would 
sometimes  have  been  easily  banished  or  subdued  : 
for  what  foe  or  what  allurement  is  not  strong  to  the 
enfeebled?  The  human  mind  always  covets  a  state 
of  complacency  ;  of  ease,  if  not  enjoyment ;  and 
now  that  you  are  without  mental  pleasures,  without 
spiritual  comfort,  without  buoyancy  of  hope,  with- 
out energy  of  immediate  action  or  alacrity  of  busv 
forecast, — any  thing  which  exacts  no  effort,  but  ex- 
cites imagination  or  attracts  the  senses,  promising 
thus  to  lull  and  obliviate  pain,  or  soothe  with  sensitive 
2  A 


*266  MENTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


delight,  will  address  itself  to  you  with  a  perilous 
charm.  Your  dim  suspicion  that  the  slightest  in- 
dulgence would  now  entice  you  to  that  which  will 
be  unquestionably  culpable,  and  that  thus  your 
"  sorrows  shall  be  multiplied  "  and  sharpened  by 
the  keenest  of  all  pangs,  may  be  met  by  a  sophism 
worthy  of  our  arch-enemy, —  that  you  cannot  be 
more  wretched  than  you  are.  Assent  not  for  an 
instant  to  this  treacherous  fallacy.  You  tvlll  be, 
by  indulging  in  what  is  evil,  incomparably  more 
wretched  than  you  are  ;  and  if  you  now  make  one 
step  either  in  deliberation  or  in  wishes  towards  it, 
your  weakness  almost  necessitates  your  fall.  Wait 
then  submissively  for  those  brighter  hours  which 
the  Great  Dispenser  and  Restorer  of  all  blessings 
can  speedily  assign  you.  Prefer  even  the  protract- 
ed faintness  of  mental  inanition  to  the  touch  or  taste 
of  luscious  but  destructive  poisons.  The  caution  is 
important  and  seasonable  whether  you  receive  it  as 
literal  or  metaphorical.  I  would  not  be  understood 
to  inculcate  a  scrupulous  or  superstitious  rigour,  but 
only  that  you  sedulously  shun  both  what  in  itself  is 
evil,  and  what  will  directly,  perhaps  from  your  past 
experience  too  assuredly,  conduct  to  evil.  Even 
apart  from  the  highest  grounds, — the  purely  Chris- 
tian and  unalterable  grounds — of  argument  against 
this,  your  acute  susceptibility  of  mental  pain  is  in 
itself  an  argument,  why  you  should  not  hazard  the 
self-infliction  of  this  most  grievous  kind  of  wound. 
An  excellent  Christian  authoress  evinced  both  friend- 
ship  and  penetration   in  writing  thus  to  the  late 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  267 

distinguished  but  unhappy  John  Henderson, — "  I 
know  you  have  so  high  a  sense  of  right  that  you 
can  never  be  well,  while  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
your  own  conduct."* 

If  pain  of  mind  has  been  thus  unhappily  sharp- 
ened, a  return  with  humble  contrition  to  the  right 
path,  and  to  the  pure  fountain  of  gospel  consolation, 
is  the  only  specific  to  assuage  that  self-condemning 
pang  :  and  thus  may  it  yield  at  length  to  an  in- 
genuous filial  melting  of  the  heart,  in  the  sense  of 
your  own  sin  and  folly,  and  of  God  our  Saviour's 
abundant  loving-kindness  :  so  that  his  own  sur- 
prising declaration  may  be  fulfilled  in  your  expe- 
rience, '^  I  hid  me  and  was  wroth,  and  he  went  on 
frowardly  in  the  way  of  his  heart :  I  have  seen  his 
ways  and  will  heal  him  :  I  will  lead  him  also  and 
restore  comforts  unto  him." 

It  has  been  thought  not  unsuitable  nor  unim- 
portant thus  to  digress,  at  considerable  length,  from 
the  subject  more  immediately  proposed  ;  because, 
as  I  have  more  than  once  already  intimated,  dis- 
tresses of  this  deeper  character  may  be  very  frequent- 
ly (if  not  always)  expected  to  accompany,  in  minds 
that  are  morally  and  spiritually  awake,  the  state  of 
augmented  sensitiveness  and  prevailing  fear. 

*  Letter  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  given  in  "  Cottle's  Malvern  Hills, 
Poems  and  Essays,"  vol.  ii.  pp.  364,  365.  The  whole  letter  is  highly 
valuable  ;  and  the  work  of  Mr.  Cottle,  which  preserves  it,  contains 
many  interesting  facts  and  reflections.  See  especially  a  brief  Essay 
"  On  the  size  of  the  Bible,"  vol.  ii.  p.  366.     4th  edit. 


268  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

The  few  remarks  which  I  have  now  to  subjoin 
will  in  some  measure  be  applicable  to  any  modifica- 
tion which  your  mental  affliction  may  assume. 

It  will  of  course  tend  to  consolation  and  promote 
submission,  if  I  can  impress  on  you  some  designed 
and  probable  henefits  of  this  heavy  trial  :  such  as 
may  outweigh  not  only  the  pains,  but  even  the  dis- 
abilities it  has  brought  upon  you,  the  moral  dan- 
gers which  it  involves,  and  even  some  actual  evils 
which  it  appears  to  create  or  to  foment.  These  uses, 
at  least  during  its  infliction,  you  may  be  little  able 
to  collect  or  to  discern.  You  will  rather  say — How 
strangely  sad  that  I  should  be  thus  "  led  into  tempt- 
ation," brought  into  a  state  which  induces  and  in- 
vites it!  How  melancholy  and  judicial  in  its  as- 
pect is  this  fact,  that  my  affliction  should  be  such 
as  incapacitates  me  for  cheerful  and  successful 
service  actively,  and  for  a  right  temper  of  mind 
even  passively ;  exposing  me,  like  *'  a  city  broken 
down  and  without  walls,"  to  each  irruption  of  evil, 
to  the  agitating  assaults  of  cares  and  trifles,  to  vain 
and  corrupting  thoughts,  to  the  suggestions  of  the 
impious,  and  the  wiles  of  invisible  foes. 

Let  me  remind  you  of  that  rule  so  necessary  for 
those  that  have  "  need  of  healing," — do  not  assume 
to  be  decisively  a  judge  in  your  personal  case.  We 
have  seen  a  patient  in  low  fever  or  latent  inflam- 
mation, and  even  his  best  friends  grown  distrustful 
of  that  medical  decision  which  still  applied  the 
lancet,  which  forbade  all  that  was  stimulating  or  even 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  269 

nutritive,  and  persisted  in  what  were  apparently 
the  most  debilitating  measures.  Yet  the  sufferer, 
though  increasingly  distressed,  though  swooning, 
though  helpless,  was  not  radically  weakened  or  per- 
manently disabled  ;  but,  if  I  may  so  accommodate 
a  Scripture  phrase,  "  out  of  weakness  was  made 
strong." — How  much  less  are  we  entitled  to  dispute 
the  remedial  severities,  the  regimen,  the  mode  or 
measure  of  privation,  ordered  by  the  great  Physi- 
cian of  our  spirits  ;  or  to  estimate  at  present  their 
ultimate  effects  ! 

But,  in  truth,  the  sanative  tendency  is  far  from 
being  in  all  respects  unapparent  or  obscure. 

You  have  perhaps  been  quite  conscious  (for  a 
mind  which  thus  suffers  has  usually  the  self-scruti- 
nizing introspective  cast)  of  a  want  of  due  tolerance 
for  weaknesses  and  defects  in  your  associates  ;  for 
the  obtuseness  of  some,  for  the  morbid  and  childish 
apprehensions  of  others,  for  the  moral  narrowness, 
or  ungraceful  and  unseemly  habits  which  obtrude 
themselves  on  your  displeased  attention.  These 
faults  of  human  nature  you  have  not  well  borne 
with.  Your  impatience,  if  not  expressed,  may  have 
been  negatively  betrayed.  You  have  not  attained, 
even  in  trifles,  the  charity  which  "  suffereth  long," 
which  "  beareth  all  things." 

"The  more  perfect  one  is,"  (wrote  an  eminent 
student  of  the  human  heart  and  of  the  Christian 
temper,)  "the  more  one  is  reconciled  to  imper- 
fection. The  Pharisees  could  not  endure  those 
2  A  3 


270  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

publicans  and  sinners,  with  whom  Jesus  Christ  asso- 
ciated in  so  much  meekness  and  benevolence.  When 
self  is  renounced,  we  enter  into  that  divine  magna- 
nimity which  nothing  wearies  or  repels."* 

It  will  scarcely  be  doubted  that  your  present 
humiliating  discipline  is  greatly  adapted  to  promote 
that  attainment ;  by  correcting  the  censorious  and 
intolerant  spirit,  which,  had  you  been  quite  exempt 
from  such  chastisement,  might  have  been  most  in- 
juriously augmented  and  confirmed.  You  might 
have  then  been  altogether  indisposed,  and  almost  un- 
able, to  recognise,  m  the  permanent  defects  of  others, 
the  wise  appointments  of  Providence,  or,  in  their 
temporary  or  superinduced  infirmities  and  failings, 
the  stroke  of  the  same  hand.  Your  scorn  or  irrita- 
tion would  have  been  unallayed  by  pity.  Whereas 
you  are  now  compelled  to  feel, — I  was  misjudging 
and  unkind  ;  ready  to  despise  those  who  shrank 
from  a  small  or  imaginary  danger,  or  were  slow  to 
comprehend  what  appeared  to  me  a  simple  truth  : 
prone  in  my  heart  to  lay  all  to  the  account  of  in- 
dulged timidity,  or  wilful  sloth,  or  wandering  inat- 
tention. But  now  I  am  taught  that  "  my  moun- 
tain," in  its  seeming  strength  and  loftiness,  was  but 
of  infirm  materials;  and  find  myself  in  the  position 
of  those  whose  slow  or  fearful  or  vacillating  steps  I 
had  contemned. 

This  remembrance,  when  it  shall  please  God  to 

*  Fenelon,  CEuv.  Spir.  t.  i.  p.  255. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  271 

lift  you  up,  will  surely  continue  to  abate  (if  not  en- 
tirely control)  a  temper  which  is  culpable  in  your 
own  eyes,  and  must  be  far  more  so  in  His  who 
knows  at  all  times  your  essential  weakness,  and  who 
Himself,  although  infinitely  above  the  most  exalted 
of  his  creatures,  despises  not  the  meanest. 

You  are  also  learning  not  only  to  tolerate,  but  in 
some  degree  to  sympathize.  You  have  felt  the  in- 
ability of  most  to  do  so,  and  you  know  therefore, 
that  your  experience,  though  grievous  to  yourself, 
may  be  soothing  and  valuable  to  others.  St.  Paul 
distinctly  assigns  this  as  an  eminent  advantage  to 
be  derived  from  "  tribulation"  and  deliverance, — 
"  that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort  them  which  are 
in  any  trouble,  by  the  comfort  wherewith  we  our- 
selves are  comforted  of  God."*  You  will  say — 
This  ability  to  comfort  others  implies  a  restoration 
wdiich  I  cannot  hope  for.  It  does  so  ;  many  beside 
you,  however,  have  quite  as  despond ingly  said, 
"  My  strength  and  my  hope  is  perished  ^^om  the 
Lord," — and  the  time  may  be  at  hand  when  you, 
like  them,  shall  own,  "  He  brought  me  up  also  out 
of  a  horrible  pit,  and  out  of  the  miry  clay  —  and 
hath  put  a  new  song  in  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto 
our  God." 

You  are  learning,  meanwhile,  that  most  import- 
ant lesson, —  your  entire  dependence  upon  Him. 
There  are  those  who  less  need  to  acquire  the  sense 

*  2  Cor.  i.  4. 


272  MENTAL    ILLNESS  XII. 

of  it  in  this  manner,  because  other  kinds  of  trial 
unceasingly  and  effectually  recall  it.  The  continu- 
ance and  sufficiency  of  their  employ  and  its  requital 
are  so  doubtful,  (a  case  grievously  frequent  in  our 
own  land,)  that  with  most  literal  meaning  have 
they  to  entreat,  —  "Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread  :  " — or  their  resources  hang  on  the  frail  tenure 
of  another's  life  ; — or  they  are  liable  to  recurring  at- 
tacks of  bodily  disease,  which  make  their  own  un- 
usually precarious.  Even  if  you  liave  had  some  of 
these  mementos,  it  is  very  possible  that,  in  your 
firm  and  sanguine  mood,  they  failed  to  impress  on 
you  your  immediate  and  entire  dependence.  But 
if  so,  what  would  be  effective  except  your  present 
correction  ?  "  Who  teacheth  like  Him  ?  "  Espe- 
cially if  you  have  been  in  full  bodily  health,  and 
possess  what  is  called,  by  a  strange  mis-alliance  of 
terms,  an  "  independent  fortune,"  and  were  thus  in 
danger  of  trusting  at  once  in  your  uncertain  strength 
and  yoi^r  ^'  uncertain  riches," — what  so  calculated 
to  dispel  these  illusions  as  your  actual  affliction  1 
You  now  perceive  that  bodily  health  may  be  not 
perceptibly  affected,  and  worldly  resources  neither 
impaired  nor  menaced,  and  yet  the  course  of  feeling 
and  the  capacity  of  action  be  secretly  quelled  and 
fettered  and  brought  low.  You  are  now  taught  to 
ask,^ — and  it  is  only  in  kindness  we  remind  you  of 
it, — "  Who  hath  made  me  to  differ  ?  What  was  it 
that  I  had  not  received?  Why  did  I  glory  as 
though  I  had  not  received  ?  "     Why  treat  as  inde- 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  273 

pendent  inalienable  possessions,  those  mental  or 
moral  attainments,  which  are,  in  fact,  no  more  so 
than  bodily  health  or  worldly  prosperity,  but  equally, 
and  even  (to  appearance)  more  immediately^  in  the 
hand  of  God  ? 

It  may  likewise  be  to  you  a  solace,  and  a  salutary 
warning  to  those  who  never  dream  that  they  may  or 
can  thus  suffer,  (if  any  such  eye  should  glance  upon 
this  page,)  to  remember  that  the  greatest  elevation 
of  rank  or  mind  does  not  secure  its  possessor  from 
the  extreme  of  mental  ruin.  The  first  of  princes  or 
of  statesmen  may  sink  into  fatuity,  into  sudden  aber- 
ration, or  more  gradual  dotage,  and  his  mind  be, 
not  like  the  columns  of  Thebes  or  Palmyra,  majestic 
in  its  fall,  but,  like  those  of  Babylon,  indistinguish- 
ably  crushed  and  lost.  He  who  "  by  the  might  of 
his  power  and  for  the  honour  of  his  majesty  "  had 
"built"  that  Babylon, —  letting  the  sceptre  drop, 
and  taking  a  place  beneath  the  level  of  his  slaves, 
affords  at  once  a  memorable  rebuke  to  mortal  arro- 
gance, and  a  monument  of  God's  gracious  and  re- 
storing power.^ — We  read  of  an  illustrious  com- 
mander of  modern  times,  that,  "  during  the  last 
two  years  of  his  life,  his  faculties  had  so  declined," 
(nor  was  this  in  advanced  old  age,)  "  that  scarcely 
a  trait  was  left  of  the  Great  Conde."^  Our  own 
day  has  furnished  examples  of  minds  eminently 
active  and  influential  on  the  world's  theatre,  which 

*  Dan.  iv.  30,  33. 
t  Rees,  Cyclop.  Article  Coude.      He  was  bom  1621,  died  1686. 


274  MENTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


have  sunk  in  "total  eclipse."*  Be  grateful  that 
yours  is  so  partial ;  and  remember  that  for  you,  as 
a  Christian,  or  one  who  aims  at  that  character,  there 
are  special  grounds  of  hope  that  God  will  not  or- 
dain the  aggravation  of  the  evil,  or  the  permanence 
of  its  present  degree. 

Neither  yield  to  the  thought  that,  in  your  actual 
state,  you  are  wholly  incapable  of  contributing  to 
the  good  of  others.  Not  only  may  such  degrees  of 
resignation  as  you  are  enabled  to  evince,  be  highly 
instructive,  but  it  may  be  found  at  last,  (though 
this  would  be  no  sound  plea  for  carelessness  of  pro- 
ficiency, or  in  the  choice  of  means,)  that  God  has 
often  chosen  to  accomplish  most  good  by  the  weak- 
est instruments,  or  by  the  stronger  when  in  some 
way  incomplete.  Even  a  skilful  artisan  sometimes 
effects  more  with  a  worn  or  fractured  tool,  on  ac- 
count of  some  particular  adaptation  in  it  to  his 
special  purpose,  than  he  might  have  done  with  a 
whole  assortment  of  the  brightest  and  the  keenest. 
If  you  have  long  used  endeavours,  always  imper- 
fect, and  sometimes  most  distressingly  feeble,  for 
the  good  of  those  around  you,  have  you  not  been 
now  and  then  reminded  of  words  which  you  are 
quite  conscious  were  spoken  in  weakness,  or  of  some 
small  gifts  bestowed  amidst  dejection,  which  yet 
appear  to  have  been  not  without  results  ?     How  can 

*  Need  I  recall  to  the  memory  of  my  elder  readers  a  Romilly, 
a  Whitbread,  a  Londonderry  ?  Self-destruction  awfully  intimates 
"total  eclipse" — intellectual  or  moral. 


XII.  OR    DEBILITY.  2/5 

you  be  certain  but  that,  after  all,  the  seeds  which 
shall  "  prosper  "  most,  will  be  not  those  which  you 
scattered  with  a  strong  arm  and  an  elastic  step,  but 
which  you  sowed  in  tears  or  dropped  almost  at  ran- 
dom, when  weary  and  "  in  heaviness  1 " 

In  conclusion,  let  me  again  invite  you  to  dwell 
much  on  that  sustaining  thought,  —  the  infinite 
power  and  compassion  of  our  God  : — on  his  gracious 
declaration  to  the  suffering  and  murmuring  pilgrims 
of  the  wilderness,  "  I  am  Jehovah  that  healeth 
thee  ;  " —  on  that  prominent  and  cheering  character 
of  his  miracles,  when  "  manifest  in  flesh  ;" — "  He 
healed  all  that  had  need  of  healing."  Who  should 
despair  of  final  relief  and  '^  perfect  health  "  *  when 
such  has  been  the  promise,  and  such  have  been  the 
pledges,  of  the  Divine  Physician  ?  Doubt  not  that 
He  is  able  to  present  even  you  "  faultless,  before 
the  presence  of  his  glory,  with  exceeding  joy ; "  to 
do  far  more  than  restore  those  mental  and  spiritual 
powers,  which  have  been  hitherto,  at  the  best,  so 
imperfect  and  so  frail :  to  capacitate  you  for  serving 
Him  eternally  with  unwearied  devotion  and  una- 
bating  pleasure  :  to  endow  the  spirit  with  such  celes- 
tial harmony  and  vigour,  that  it  shall  ever  ardently 
will  whatsoever  its  perfected  nature  can  render,  of 
adoring  service  to  its  Author  and  Redeemer, — and 
shall  ever  be  as  entirely  capable  to  effect,  with  unre- 
mitting and  delighted  energy,  all  the  services  it  wills. 

Forget  not, — since  you  always  know,  and  often 
*  Acts  iii.  16. 


276  MENTAL    ILLNESS 


XII. 


feel,  the  connexion  between  the  infirmities  of  the 
spirit  and  those  of  a  corruptible  and  mortal  frame, — 
that  the  perfection  of  this  Divine  healing  will  be  felt 
and  owned,  in  its  coming  victory  over  corruption 
and  mortality  ;  when  those  prophecies,  once  obscure, 
"  I  will  ransom  from  the  power  of  the  grave  ; — O 
grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction,"* — shall  receive  their 
bright  fulfilment ;  and  the  inherent  weakness  of  the 
"  natural  body"  be  exchanged  for  that  glory  of  the 
'^  spiritual,"  which  pain  and  death  can  never  more 
assail. 

Meditate  on  this  heavenly  cure  of  all  which  now 
humbles,  depresses,  and  excruciates  our  ruined  na- 
ture,— the  spirit  healed  of  sin  and  woe,  the  mind 
and  body  rescued  from  their  sad  communion  of  an- 
guish and  debility ;  the  whole  renovated  creature 
"  made  meet  for  an  inheritance  in  light,"  there  to 
dedicate  immortal  health  and  blessedness  to  Him 
whose  "perfect  gifts  "  they  are.  Think  how  cri- 
minal it  were  to  disbelieve,  and  how  blamable  as 
well  as  unhappy  it  is  to  despond,  when  "  God,  who 
cannot  lie,  hath  promised  ;"  promised,  that  though 
w^eariness  and  helplessness  and  agony,  as  well  as 
death,  may  intervene, — yet  the  hour  of  healing  is  at 
hand  ;  when  the  spirit  shall  be  filled  with  "  power 
and  love,"  the  body  raised  to  unchangeable  vitality, 
the  whole  creature  endued  with  faultless  conformity 
to  the  Possessor  and  Giver  of  all  bliss. 

It  is  exceedingly  difficult,  no  doubt,  for  you,  under 

*  Hosea  xiii.  14. 


XII. 


OR    DEBILITY.  277 


existing  depression,  to  conceive  and  anticipate,  and 
above  all,  to  appropriate  to  yourself  personally,  this 
glorious  change.  But  though  your  hold  on  it  be 
ever  so  faint  and  distrustful,  you  cannot,  I  hope,  re- 
nounce it.  With  reference  both  to  that  ultimate 
and  perfect  cure,  and  to  intermediate  alleviation  and 
relief,  you  are  bound  to  remember  and  to  venerate 
His  words  who  said  on  a  different  occasion, — "  With 
men  it  is  impossible,  but  not  with  God  :  for  with 
God  all  things  are  possible." 


2   B 


XIIL 


ON  DISTRUSTFUL  ANXIETY  FOR  THE  COMING  OF 
CHRIST.  A  NEW  YEAR'S  OR  ANNIVERSARY  MEDI- 
TATION. 


Has  not  our  impatient  weariness,  or  timorous  dis- 
trust, too  often  echoed,  inwardly,  that  taunt  of  scoff- 
ers,— "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ?" 

From  their  tone  and  spirit  indeed  we  painfully 
recoil :  yet  the  same  question  which  they  urge  in 
flippant  mockery,  our  hearts  may  whisper  unawares 
in  silent  sadness.  When  the  infidel  derides  our 
dearest  expectation,  we  know  his  "  wish"  is  "  father 
to  that  thought : "  and  yet  our  own  misgivings,  con- 
demned and  combated  by  faith,  may  be  his  secret 
allies. 

We  muse  cheerlessly  on  the  ages  that  have  rolled 
away  ;  the  many  corruptions  and  declensions  of  the 
Christian  cause  ;  the  slowness  of  its  genuine  triumph 
since  those  years  of  infant  strength,  when  it  bruised. 


XIII.  ANXIETY    FOR    CHRIST's    COMING.  279 

as  ill  its  cradle,  the  serpents  of  idolatry  ;  on  the 
unchanged  aspects  of  the  natural  world,  where  "  all 
things  continue  as  they  were  ; "  on  the  tardy  or 
even  questionable  amelioration  of  the  moral.  In 
such  a  mood  of  gloomy  retrospection,  must  we  en- 
counter with  new  pain  those  reckless  "  sports  "  of 
sceptics  which  are  "  death  to  us"  and  to  all  solid 
hope  :  the  wretched  speculations  by  which,  while 
they  profess  to  liberate,  they  would,  in  fact,  lay 
waste ;  and  just  for  the  sake  of  levelling  the  fences 
of  our  "  narrow  way,"  would  make  a  trackless  de- 
sert to  loiter  and  to  perish  in,  without  even  the  far- 
off  vision  of  a  better  land.  "  As  with  a  sword  in  our 
bones  "  these  "  enemies  "  of  holy  truth  "  reproach  " 
us,  "  while  they  say  daily,"  as  in  the  old  time  be- 
fore us, — "  Where  is  thy  God  ?" 

But  surrender  nothing  either  to  their  cold  raille- 
ries or  your  own  anxious  musings.  There  remains 
a  spoken  and  recorded  word  of  promise.  "  Ex- 
ceeding broad  "  are  the  attestations  it  has  since  ac- 
quired ;  and  far  other  echoes  revive,  and  far  other 
voices  respond  to  it,  than  those  either  of  levity  or 
despondence.  The  Saviour  in  whom  we  have  trusted 
assured  both  his  adherents  and  his  adversaries  of 
his  future  majestic  advent ;  in  figures  and  in  ex- 
plicit statements  ;  personally,  and  by  the  word  both 
of  angels  and  apostles.  "  I  will  come  again,  and 
receive  you  unto  myself,"  was  the  language  of  his 
affection  on  the  solemn  eve  of  parting  :  and  when 
He  appeared  in  glory  to  his  exiled  servant,  with 
2  B  2 


280  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

new  admonitions  and  predictions  for  the  suffering 
churches, — "Behold,  I  come  quickly" — "  Surely  I 
come  quickly" — was  the  message  at  once  of  warning 
and  of  love. 

The  lapse  of  centuries  indeed  has  long  since  taught 
the  church,  that  its  terms  must  not  be  interpreted 
by  the  narrow  measure  of  our  days  or  generations  : 
but  each  century  has  meanwhile  affixed,  or  en- 
larged, some  vast  historic  seal,  on  the  divinity  of 
the  record  which  contains  it.  "  The  bands"  who 
would  "  rob"  us  of  our  only  real  wealth,  do  but 
vainly  declare  the  "  pearl  of  great  price "  in  our 
shrine  of  Scripture  to  be  spurious,  till  they  can 
break  or  obliterate  those  seals  of  heavenly  truth 
which  are  set  upon  the  shrine  itself  by  the  broad 
and  far- extending  annals  of  the  church  and  of  the 
world. 

These  extrinsic  confirmations  of  the  "  precious 
promises,"  we  should  sometimes  review  :  nor  will 
the  task  be  laborious. 

With  a  glance  you  can  revert  to  that  empire  of 
the  first  Ceesars,  where  a  splendid  starlight  of  in- 
tellect did  but  adorn,  without  dispelling,  the  shades 
of  atheistic  and  idolatrous  darkness  that  brooded 
and  mingled  over  its  wide  regions,  fostering  all 
deadly  fruits.  You  see  the  sudden  "day-spring 
from  on  high"  shedding  on  those  realms  a  rapid 
moral  illumination;  and  —  where  philosophy  had 
been  all  but  powerless, — kindling  the  hopes,  ruling 
the  hearts,  purifying  the  lives,  and  hallowing  the 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  281 

deaths  of  myriads.  The  fact  is  in  itself  marvel- 
lously and  delightfully  convincing  ;  but  it  gains 
fresh  power  as  an  argument  of  faith,  when  you  ex- 
amine how  that  strange  and  mighty  revolution  had 
been  distantly  foretold  ;  that  in  writings  unstudied 
and  contemned  by  Greeks  and  Romans,  but  com- 
posed and  treasured  as  prophetic  by  a  people  alien 
and  averse  from  other  nations,  there  had  been  ex- 
tant for  ages  predictions  of  that  very  change  ;  of  a 
great  future  renouncement  of  idolatry,  which  (as 
one  of  those  same  writings  itself  incidentally  testi- 
fied) was  without  example  ;  * — of  its  origination, 
also,  by  a  single  illustrious  Teacher,  of  whom, 
through  a  long  antiquity,  it  was  variously  declared 
that  "  to  Him  should  be  the  gathering  or  homage 
of  nations ;"  t  that  "the  Desire  of  all  nations" 
should  '^  come,"  J  that  the  "isles"  should  "wait 
for  his  law,"  §  that  God  would  give  him  "  the  hea- 
then for  his  inheritance,"  ||  that  he  should  be  "  a 
Light  to  the  Gentiles,"  %  and  the  "  pleasure  of  Je- 
hovah should  prosper  in  his  hand;"**  —  of  the 
great  prevalency  of  that  new  power ;  expressed  as 
follows — that  in  the  days  of  the  fourth  great  mon- 
archy (the   Roman)  should   "  the  God  of  heaven 

*   Jer.  ii.  10,  11.    "Pass  over  the  isles  of  Chittim,  and  see  ;  and 
send  vmto  Kedar,  and  consider  diligently,  and  see  if  there  be  such 
a  thing.  Hath  a  nation  changed  their  gods,  which  are  yet  no  gods  ?" 
— Comp.  Jer.  xvi.  19 — 21. 
t  Gen.  xlix.  10.    Dr.  J.  P.  Smith's  version.    Scrip.  Test.  i.  247- 
+  Hag.  ii.  7.  §  Isaiah  xlii.  4.  ||  Psalm  ii. 

^  Isaiah  xlix.  6.  **  Isaiah  liii.  10. 

2  B  a 


282  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

set  up  a  kingdom"  which  would  "  consume"  all 
hostile  powers,  and  "  stand  for  ever  ;"  a  kingdom 
emblematically  called  "  a  stone  cut  out  without 
hands,"  destined  to  smite  and  crush  the  "  great 
image"  of  idolatrous  dominion,  —  to  become  it- 
self "  a  great  mountain,"  and  to  fill  "  the  whole 
earth."'*- 

*  Dan.  ii.  31 — 44. — "  So  long  as  the  civil  history  of  the  ancient 
world  shall  last,  under  the  scheme  of  its  four  successive  Empires  ; 
so  long  as  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  in  the  place  and  order 
previously  assigned  to  it,  shall  remain  upon  record,  and  its  visible 
reign  exist ;  so  long  as  the  conclusion  of  the  Iron  Empire  of  Rome 
shall  be  known  in  the  promiscuous  partition  made  of  it  by  the  host 
of  northern  and  eastern  invaders  ; — so  long  there  will  be  a  just  and 
rational  proof  of  the  inspiration  of  these  illustrious  prophecies  of 
Daniel."  ' — It  is  not  within  my  scope  to  advert  to  those  prophecies 
concerning  our  Saviour's  life  and  death  which  the  New  Testament 
verifies,  but  only  to  glance  at  those,  the  fulfilment  of  which  is  broad- 
ly marked  on  the  pages  oi  secular  history.  In  respect  to  both  classes 
of  predictions,  the  book  of  Daniel  seems  pre-eminent.  Abbadie,  in 
examining  what  this  book  foretells  as  to  the  first  advent  and  kingdom 
of  Messiah,  remarks  that  "  one  knows  not  which  most  to  wonder 
at,  the  evidence  of  truth  which  is  found  in  it,  or  the  prodigious 
blindness  of  those  who  perceive  not  that  evidence."  After  stating 
ten  wonderful  correspondencies  between  these  prophecies  and  the 
events,  he  comments  on  some  of  them  to  this  effect, — What  could 
be  a  more  indisputable  mark  of  the  prophetic  spirit  than  to  have 
foretold  the  destiny  of  the  Jewish  people  as  ensuing  on  the  coming 
and  death  of  Christ  ?  Who  will  imagine  that  it  depended  on  this 
writer  to  cause  that  Jerusalem  should  be  ruined,  and  "  the  sanc- 
tuary destroyed,"  and  "  the  sacrifice  and  the  oblation  cease,"  when 
a  person  called  the  Christ  or  Messiah  should  be  "cut  off?  "2 
Great  events  may  sometimes  be  foreseen  by  the  combined  light  of 

1  Davison's  Discourses  on  Prophecy,  p.  528. 
2  Dan.  ix.  26,  27. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  283 

How  shall  we  not  discern,  in  the  wide  diffusion 
and  permanence  of  that  light  which  Christ  revealed, 
himself  "  the  Light  of  the  world,"  —  a  glorious 
accomplishment  of  those  long-predicted  wonders  ; 
especially  when  we  include  the  fact,  too  little  no- 
ticed, that  where  this  light  has  been  once  prevail- 
ingly diffused,  although  it  often  has  been,  and  con- 
tinues to  be,  dreadfully  and  ruinously  darkened,  yet 
rarely,  if  ever,  has  2yoli/theism  resumed  its  ancient 
sway . 

Meditate  next  on  the  singular  and  hapless  race, 
among  whom  alone  arose  that  lengthened  series  of 
predictions ;  from  whom  also  the  mighty  religious 
innovation  which  fulfilled  them,  first  went  forth  : 
and  see  in  their  whole  story  since,  and  their  con- 
dition at  this  day,  the  fulfilment  of  another  series 
scarcely  less  extended  ;  predictions  bearing  strange 
reference  to  their  own  fearful  destinies  ;  begun  more 
than  three  thousand  years  ago  by  their  venerated 
lawgiver,  renewed  by  their  most  honoured  prophets, 
sealed  at  length  by  Him  whose  mission  they  so 
fatally  despised.  From  the  foretold  and  frightful 
doom    of  their   metropolis   and   temple,  from    the 

experience  and  penetration  ;  but  that  this  should  be  the  period  to 
"  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity  " — to  "  bring  in  everlasting  right- 
eousness " —  and  "to  anoint  the  Most  Holy,"  —  that  the  death  of 
Christ  should  connect  itself  with  such  events  as  these,  is  what  no 
human  sagacity  could  anticipate.  "  Surely  the  Divine  wisdom 
would  not  have  ordained  these  things  to  happen  in  complaisance  to 
the  fancies  of  an  impostor  or  enthusiast."  ^ 

1  Ver.  de  la  Eel.  Chret.  t.  i.  p  488  et  supra.   (Edit.  1689.) 


284  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIIT- 

frustrated  attempt  to  rebuild  that  renowned  sanc- 
tuary,* from  their  "  proverbial  "  ignominy j-f-  their 
unparalleled  "  scattering "  J  and  "■  sifting,"  and 
distinctness  still  "among  all  nations,"  "like  as 
corn  is  sifted  in  a  sieve  ;"  §  in  short,  from  the  whole 
judicial  sequel,  in  "plagues"  thus  "wonderful," 
and  of  so  "long  continuance,"  || — how  can  we 
choose  but  gather  clear  "  instruction,"  as  well  as  deep 
"  astonishment,"  %  at  the  verification  of  the  oracles 
of  God  ! 

Once  more,  retrace  the  simultaneous  rising,  the 
concurrent  greatness  and  parallel  decline,  of  the 
Mohammedan  and  Papal  tyrannies, —  the  two  vast 
forms  of  Antichristian  domination  ;  —  and  in  these 
awful  scenes  of  our  own  era,  spreading  over  two- 
thirds  of  its  whole  extent  and  unfinished  still, 
further  ascertain  the  prophetic  claims  both  of  Jew- 
ish and  Christian  scriptures.  Remember  that  the 
nation  who  reject  the  mission  both  of  Paul  and 
John,  had,  long  before  the  times  of  these  apostles, 
placed   the  book  of  Daniel  in  the  sacred  canon.** 

*  Ammian.  Marcell.  lib.  xxiii.  c.  i.  f  Deut.  xxviii.  37. 

•  X  Deut.  xxviii.  25  and  64;    Levit.  xxvi.  33;  Jer.  ix.  16;  Ezek. 
V.  10,  12;  Hos.  iii.  4. 

§  Amos  ix.  8,  9.  ||   Deut.  xxviii.  59. 

H  Ezek.  V.  15 ;  on  which  see  Davison's  Lectures  on  Prophecy, 
pp.  452,  453. 

**  The  predictions  on  these  and  other  great  subjects,  contained 
in  the  book  of  Daniel,  which  has  been  termed  by  Mode  '  "  a  sort  of 
prophetic  chronology  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ,"  require  too  wide 

1  Quoted  ill  Bishop  Kurd  s  Lectures,  p.  80. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  285 

Consider  whence  could  spring  the  immense  antici- 
pations of  either  writer,  much  more  the  circum- 
stantial, difFering,  yet  accordant  anticipations  of 
each,  as  to  scenes  so  buried  in  a  remote  inscrutable 
futurity  ? — except  from  the  dictation  of  Divine  fore- 
knowledge. Ask  yourself,  with  a  commentator 
whom  few  will  rank  among  the  credulous,  ^'  Were 
these  words  written  after  the  events ;  or  can  the 
congruity  of  the  descriptions  with  the  things  them- 
selves be  reasonably  ascribed  to  chance  ? "  ^  Or 
generalize  a  passage  in  which  the  same  author  par- 
ticularly refers  to  the  later  prophecies  of  Antichrist, 
but  which  applies,  with  yet  greater  force,  to  those 
of  much  higher  antiquity, — If  in  the  days  of  Daniel, 
Paul,  or  John,  there  were  vestiges  of  such  a  sort  of 
powers  in  the  world  ;  or  if  there  ever  had  been 
any  such  powers;  or  if  there  was  then  any  shadow 
of  probability  that  there  would   be  such  powers  in 

and  exact  comparison  %\itli  the  world's  history,  to  be  at  all  duly  ap- 
preciated by  mere  reference  to  that  book  itself.  This  is  also  true, 
in  some  measure,  of  the  predictions  concerning  Antichrist  in  the 
writings  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Jolin,  though  readers,  possessing  some 
general  acquaintance  with  the  annals  of  Romish  Christendom,  can- 
not but  perceive  in  tliem  wonderful  delineations  of  the  tyranny  and 
corruption  of  that  church.  See  2  Thess.  ii.  3,  10  ;  1  Tim.  iv,  1,  4  ; 
Rev.  xA'ii.  and  xviii.  The  full  impression  can  only  be  gained  by 
a  studious  examination  of  the  agreements  between  these  prophecies 
and  history  both  ecclesiastical  and  secular,  much  too  detailed  for 
this  work.  I  subjoin,  however,  a  few  extracts  from  the  w^orks  of 
learned  inquirers,  which  show  the  impression  on  their  minds  re- 
sulting from  such  an  examination.  See  Note  F,  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 

*  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  on  the  Attributes,  p.  429. 


286  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

the  world,  much  more  in  the  church  of  God  ;  and 
if  there  be  not  now  such  powers,  actual  and  con- 
spicuous ;  and  if  any  brief  sketches  of  them,  drawn 
after  the  event,  could  describe  them  more  strikingly 
than  they  were  described  by  those  writers  so  many 
ages  before  they  existed  ;  —  then  let  it  be  believed 
that  these  prophecies  were  not  of  God.* 

It  should  also  be  distinctly  noticed,  that  although 
each  of  those  great  accomplishments  of  prophecy 
might,  very  long  ago,  in  a  qualified  sense,  be  called 
complete ;  yet  is  each  of  them  ever  since,  and  still, 
in  a  continued  and  ulterior  process  of  completion. 

Thus  the  predicted  spread  of  monotheism  among 
the  Gentiles  was  largely  and  wonderfully  verified, 
even  before  the  cruel  reign  of  Diocletian  ;  but  who 
does  not  know  that  it  has  since  advanced,  and  is  ad- 
vancing,— though  with  deeply  mysterious  checks  and 
fluctuations,  yet  indubitably, — towards  a  final  and 
universal  fulfilment.  Besides  the  great  (though  very 
imperfect)  northern  conversions  of  the  middle  ages, 
part  of  which  have  been,  by  subsequent  reforma- 
tions and  awakenings,  purified, — we  see,  moreover, 
a  whole  western  hemisphere  colonized,  in  later  times, 
by  nations  not  idolatrous  ;  and  there  amidst  the  un- 
exampled growth  of  population,  (in  what  must  be, 
if  this  world  long  endure,  one  of  its  mightiest  con- 
tinents,) we  hail  a  wide  revival,  a  deep  and  growing 
vitality, — notwithstanding  much  overt  and  daring 

'^  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  on  the  Attributes,  p.  439,  abridged  and 
altered. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  287 

opposition,  and  some  fanatical  alloys, — of  "  the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  saints." 

Meanwhile  the  light  of  real  science  in  the  farthest 
East,  co-operates  with  the  desires  and  energies  of 
Christians  ;  chasing  and  "  casting  out "  those  phan- 
toms of  a  gross  mythology,  which  can  no  more 
work  their  work  or  spread  their  wings  in  its  full 
sunshine,  than  those  "  moles  "  and  ^'  bats  "  to  which 
as  fit  associates  they  were  anciently  foredoomed. 
Infidels  may  sneer  at  the  limited,  slow,  and  unstable 
conquests  of  the  cross  ;  nor  shall  we  contradict  the 
epithets  :  yet  let  us  conceive  for  an  instant  the 
'*  prophet  monarch  "  of  Judsea  unapprized  of  all 
events  on  earth,  since  the  time  when  he  predicted 
in  Jehovah's  name,  "  The  Lord  shall  send  the  rod 
of  thy  strength  out  of  Zion;"*— "  The  Son  "  (his 
Christ^)  "shall  have  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  for  his  possession."  J  And  now  let  the  geo- 
graphy of  Christendom  and  of  missions  be  suddenly 
unrolled.  Would  he  deem  the  fulfilment  of  those 
oracles  equivocal  or  narrow,  and  his  "soul  be  cast 
down  within  him,"  when  "  looking  from  the  land 
of  Jordan,  from  the  hill  Mizar,"  over  waves  which 
no  ship  of  Tarshish  ever  crossed,  he  should  find  his 
own  hallowed  songs,  "  the  songs  of  Zion,"  read  in 
the  hut  of  the  Esquimaux  and  New  Zealander, 
chaunted  in  the  kraal  of  the  Hottentot,  and  in  the 
churches  of  Tahiti, — when  he  should  hear  the  name 

*  Psa.  ex.  2.  t  Psa.  ii.  2,  and  12.— see  the  Septuagint. 

t  Psa.  ii.  8. 


288  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

of  "  the  Son,"  "  the  Christ,"  resounding  on  the 
shores  of  the  Ganges  and  Ohio,  and  "  mark"  those 
"towers"  and  consider  those  "palaces,"  where 
God  is  known  for  a  "  refuge,"  adorning  the  once 
savao;e  banks  of  Thames  and  Delaware  ? — Would 
not  rather  some  of  his  own  lyric  melodies  now  burst 
from  him  afresh,  and  a  new  and  warm  significance 
be  thrown  into  those  strains,  "Jehovah  gave  the 
word  :  great  was  the  company  of  those  that  pub- 
lished it !  Thou  hast  ascended  up  on  high  :  thou 
hast  led  captivity  captive  :  thou  hast  received  gifts 
for  men?" 

So,  as  to  the  dispersed  preservation  of  the  He- 
brews ;  that  phenomenon  was  already  striking  and 
complete  in  the  eye  of  Cyprian  or  Eusebius,*  though 
the  time  had  been  then  comparatively  brief  of  their 
unprecedented  doom  :  much  more  so  in  the  long 
subsequent  age  of  "  the  great  Cond6/'  who  profess- 
ed that  it  was  of  itself,  to  his  mind,  an  unanswerable 
argument  for  the  truth  of  revelation.  But  its  con- 
tinuance since  his  time,  in  connexion  with  an  un- 
decaying  expectation  by  that  people  of  their  great 
Deliverer,  through  a  new  age  like  ours,  in  which 
old  distinctions  and  ideas  have  themselves  been 
scattered  and  "  trodden  under  foot  of  men,"  has 
been,  and  becomes  year  by  year,  more  signally  in- 
structive still. 

Thus  also   do   we   witness,   beyond    any   former 

*  See  Euseb.  Demonst.  Evang.  lib.  ii.  c.  4.  lib.  v.  c.  23.  lib.  vi, 
13.  and  Prepar.  Evang.  lib.  i.  c.  3. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  289 

generation,  the  protracted  existence,  and  the  unre- 
trieved  decline  both  of  the  Papacy  and  of  Islamism  ; 
and  though  their  long-enduring  sway  and  slow  pro- 
clivity to  fall,  may  render  these  scenes  less  "  mar- 
vellous in  our  eyes,"  we  know  that  this  slowness  is 
but  analogous  to  that  of  other  sequences  and  move- 
ments which  Providence  has  ordered  or  permitted, 
both  in  the  physical  and  social  system. 

In  this  manner  events  that,  during  ages,  have 
stood  forth  as  stupendous  seals  for  the  veracity  of 
God's  holy  word,  become  still  broader  and  more 
palpable  by  the  accession  of  those  new  margins  and 
inscriptions,  which  revolving  centuries  mysteriously 
annex. 

Nor  is  that  scorn  of  unbelievers,  which  has  grown 
more  overt  and  hostile,  since  scriptural  and  active 
piety  revived  conjunctly  with  civil  and  religious 
freedom,  an  impredicted  scorn.  Have  we  any  title 
to  expect  that,  in  our  "  last  days,"  it  should  cease, 
unless  when  the  awful  advent  which  it  challeno;es, 
shall  suddenly  rebuke  and  silence  it  for  ever  ? 

Let  such  men  "  set  their  mouth  against  the  hea- 
vens," while  their  "  tongue  walketh  through  the 
earth,"  as  if  they  held  the  "  line  and  measuring 
reed  "^  of  the  Eternal :  we  must  still  ask — where- 
withal shall  they  blot  those  marks  and  signets  of 
His  Prescience?  How  can  they  reach  to  deface 
those  vast  and  self-enlarging  seals,  "  graven  as  with 

*  Ezek.  xl.  3. 

9     n 


290  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

an  iron  pen  "  in  the  living  ''  rock  "  of  history  ; 
comprising  the  greatest  national  and  religious  revo- 
lutions from  the  days  of  Tiberius  to  our  own,  and 
closely  answering  to  diversified  trains  of  predic- 
tions, whose  remote  priority  no  rational  examiner 
disputes? 

Are  not  these  seals  most  manifest  and  indelible  1 
Do  they  not  remain  unchanged,  (save  by  augment- 
ation,) although  thousands  of  resisting  minds  should 
receive  no  impression  from  them  ?  What  less  then 
can  they  be  held  to  attest  than  the  Divine  inspiration 
of  the  writings  in  which  those  prophecies  were  of  old 
recorded,  and  the  omniscient,  unceasing  sovereignty 
of  Jehovah  who  inspired  them  ? — What  less  than 
that  "  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reigneth"—th?it 
"  His  eyes  are  upon  the  ways  of  men,"  that  He 
"  understandeth  their  thought  afar  off,"  and  "  work- 
eth  all  things" — though  concurrently  with  man's 
free-agency, — "  after  the  counsel  of  his  own  will  ?  " 
— what  less  than  that  (as  these  Scriptures  solemnly 
announce,  and  as  reason  compels  every  real  theist 
to  believe)  He  is  the  "  God  of  truth,"  the  "  Holy 
One,"  "  who  cannot  lie,"  and  whose  "  mercy  en- 
dureth  for  ever?"  Are  we,  then,  heartlessly  to 
relinquish  our  trust  in  those  of  his  predictions  and 
promises,  which  as  yet  are  /^wfulfilled  ?  He  who 
by  his  first  despised  and  unacknowledged  advent 
transformed  the  worship  and  habitudes  and  senti- 
ments of  half  the  world,  has  said,  "  Hereafter  shall 
ye  see  the  Son  of  man  sitting  on  the  right   hand 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  291 

of  power,  and  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  ; "  * 
and  again,  by  the  pens  of  apostles,  "  He  shall  come 
to  be  glorified  in  his  saints  ;  "  and,  "  Behold,  He 
Cometh  with  clouds  ;  and  every  eye  shall  see  Him, 
and  they  also  which  pierced  Him."f  These  latter 
passages,  let  it  be  observed,  are  from  the  very  same 
books  of  the  New  Testament  which  have  before 
been  cited  as  containing  wonderful  prophecies  in 
part  fulfilled,  and  still  in  progress  of  fulfilment. 
We  may  add  that  the  book  of  Daniel,  which  was 
cited  with  those,  anticipates  likewise,  in  distinct  and 
lofty  terms,  that  glorious  final  coming.  "  I  looked 
in  visions  of  the  night,  and  behold  with  the  clouds 
of  heaven  came  one  like  a  Son  of  man. — His  do- 
minion is  an  eternal  dominion,  which  shall  not  pass 
away,  and  his  empire  that  which  shall  not  be  de- 
stroyed." :j:  Shall  we  refuse  a  patient  credence  to 
assurances  like  these,  from  Him  whose  "  deter- 
minate counsel  and  foreknowledge  "  the  very  same 
writings,  by  the  fulfilment  of  their  other  great  ora- 
cles, demonstrate,  and  are  themselves  thus  proved 
to  have  been  prompted  by  Himself?  If  scoffers 
mock  our  hopes,  and  defame   His   attributes  and 

*  Mark  xiv.  62  :  comp.  Matt.  xxvi.  64  ;  xxiv.  30 ;  and  xxv.  31. 
See  Note  G,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

t  2  Thess.  i.  7—10,  and  Rev.  i.  7. 

X  Dan.  ^ii.  13, 14.  Dr.  J.  P.  Smith's  version,  Script.  Test.  i.  448. 
"  The  Rabbinical  commentators,  without  exception,  appear  to  have 
acknowledged  the  application  of  this  text  to  the  Messiah."  Ibid. 
450.  Note  B. 

2  c  2 


292  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

dispensations  with  the  charge  of  what  "  men  count 
slackness,"  it  were  well  to  ask, — for  our  own  profit 
if  not  for  theirs, —  How  near  was  Messiah's  ^r.9^ 
victorious  coming,  when  Balaam,  in  reluctant  trance, 
had  lately  uttered,  "  I  shall  see  Him,  but  not  now, 
I  shall  behold  Him,  but  not  nigh  ;  there  shall  come 
a  Star  out  of  Jacob  ;  " — when  one  patriarch  had  de- 
clared in  dying,  "  The  sceptre  shall  not  depart  from 
Judah,  until  Shiloh  come  ;"  and  another  amidst  his 
anguish  had  triumphantly  exclaimed,  "  I  surely  do 
know  my  Redeemer,  the  Living  One,  and  he,  the 
Last,  will  arise  over  the  dust ;"  * —  or  when  Abra- 
ham, yet  earlier,  was  divinely  promised,  "  In  thee 
shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed  ? " 

Had  your  lot  been  among  "  dwellers  at  Jerusa- 
lem "  in  the  days  when  Pompey  made  Judeea  tri- 
butary, or  when  Crassus  seized  the  treasures  in  its 
temple,  would  you  have  been  then  less  prone  than 
now  to  ask  —  Where  is  the  promise  of  Messiah's 
coming  ? — What  indication  was  in  those  times  dis- 
cernible, (unless  it  were  that  gloomy  and  ambiguous 
prospect,  "the  sceptre"  ready  to  "depart  from 
Judah,")  of  his  appearing  whom  the  ancient  oracles 
foretold?  Yet  within  one  century  after,  the  "  Star 
out  of  Jacob  "  had  arisen ;  the  Gatherer  of  the  na- 
tions, the  Light  of  all  earth's  families,  had  sent 
forth  his  heralds  to  the  Gentiles ;  the  Redeemer 
had  lived,   and    suffered,   and  departed,  in   whom 

*  Job  xix.     Dr.  J.  P.  Smith's  version,  in  Scrip.  Test.  i.  286. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  293 

millions  since  have  had  "  a  lively  hope,"  that  they, 
like  him,  shall  *' arise  over  the  dust;"  and  from 
that  epoch  the  seals  of  the  world's  history  are  at- 
tached inseparably  to  the  volume  of  the  church's 
hopes.  For  never  since  has  there  been  wanting 
some  great  and  progressive  class  of  facts,  respondent 
to  those  same  and  other  trains  of  signal  and  remote 
prediction.  And  have  we  not  in  these,  a  mode  and 
series  of  prophetical  testimony  far  more  sustaining 
to  our  faith,  than  all  the  succession,  diversity,  and 
amplification  of  ?mfulfilled  prophecies  concerning 
the  Christ,  could  be,  to  those,  who  before  his  first 
advent,  "  looked  for  redemption  in  Jerusalem  1  " 

How  can  we  bend  willingly  to  these  testimonies 
the  mind's  eye  and  ear, —  tracing  thus  the  earliest 
signatures  of  what  claimed  to  be  Heaven's  Pre- 
science, re-written  by  vast  events  on  the  tablets  of 
the  living  world, —  hearing  thus  the  solemn  voices 
of  "  Moses  and  the  prophets"  echoed  by  facts  that, 
through  all  "latter  days,"  have  filled  the  trump 
of  history,  —  without  a  deepened  impression  that 
"verily"  there  "  is  a  God  who  judgeth  in  the  earth  ;" 
that  "the  Holy  One  of  Israel  is"  indeed  "  our 
King,"  that  his  "  counsels  of  old  are  faithfulness  ;  " 
that  "  good  is  Jehovah,  eternal  his  mercy,  and  for 
all  generations  his  truth?"* 

Then,  if,  amidst  the  freshness  and  strength  of  this 
impression,  we  turn  to  meditate  the  order  of  the 

*  Psa.  c. — ult.  literal  version. 

2  c  3 


294  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

universe  around  us,  —  what  clear  perpetual  echoes 
are  hourly  thence  also  responding  to  the  word  of 
promise,  and  to  every  proof  of  a  Divine  administra- 
tion, in  the  movements  which  we  call  processes  of 
nature,  and  too  faintly  recognise  as  agencies  of 
God  !  The  amazing  mechanism  of  the  heavens  ; 
the  familiar  succession  of  yearly  verdure  and  of 
daily  sunrise ;  the  ever-controlled  and  refluent  tides ; 
the  uniform  instincts  of  unnumbered  animals ;  in- 
cessantly reassure  us,  though  we  listen  not,  of 
an  Omniscient  vigilance  and  immutable  fidelity. 
Among  the  most  astonishing  parts  and  evidences  of 
this  complex  order,  (and  indeed  the  great  index  by 
which  many  other  parts  of  it  are  observed  and  as- 
certained,) is  the  exactness  of  those  celestial  motions 
which  mete  out  what  we  call  our  Time.  The  pro- 
longation of  these  (like  the  continuous  progress  of 
some  fulfilments  of  prophecy)  is  a  cumulative  or 
germinating  argument  for  the  steadfast  unintermit- 
ted  reign  of  the  Most  High.*  By  how  much 
therefore  the  "  promise"  is  deferred,  while  yet  we 
calculate  from  heaven's  unerring  dial  the  years  of 
its  delay, — by  so  much,  in  that  very  reckoning,  do 
new  sums  of  proof  accrue,  for  the  perfections  of 
the  Promiser.  Each  century  which  has  become 
complete,  each  eclipse  which  has  been  computed 

*  "  Those  mighty  orbs  proclaim  thy  power, 
Their  motions  speak  thy  skill, 
And  on  the  wings  of  every  hour 

We  read  thy  patience  still." — Watts^s  Lyrics. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  295 

and  observed,  each  waxing  and  waning  moon,  every 
year  that  has  been  joined  to  the  eighteen  hundred 
that  are  for  ever  gone,  —  nay  each  diurnal  rotation 
of  our  earth  in  its  swift  and  accurate  career, — while 
made  by  scoffers  a  new  plea  and  topic  of  disbelief, 
has  been  in  effect  one  added  and  punctilious  tribute 
of  creation  to  the  perfect  rule  of  the  Supreme  :  — 
at  once  a  fulfilment  of  the  special  promise,  "  Sum- 
mer and  winter  and  day  and  night  shall  not 
cease,"  *  and  a  ceaseless  echo  to  the  authoritative 
words,  "  Hath  God  said,  and  shall  He  not  do  1  or 
hath  He  spoken,  and  shall  He  not  make  it  good  ?"  f 
— "  My  counsel  shall  stand,  and  I  will  do  all  my 
pleasure  ! "  J 

When  we  reach,  therefore,  either  in  personal  or 
public  calendars,  some  new  annual  demarcation  of 
that  vast  but  divinely  regulated  progress, — when 
the  "  noiseless  foot  of  Time"  seems  to  touch  one  of 
those  great  invisible  chords  that  measure  out  his 
realm, — and  his  own  memento  of  the  transient  and 
the  dying  vibrates  at  a  birth-day's  sunset  on  the 
heart  of  one,  or  at  a  new-year's  eve  upon  the  hearts 
of  nations, —  this  very  thrill  of  feeling  should  bring 
with  it  to  faith,  nay  and  to  reason  likewise,  a  new 
memorial  of  his  unchanging  "  ordinances,"  who 
"  hangeth  the  earth  upon  nothing;"  who  "  causeth 
the  day-spring"  both  natural  and  spiritual  "to 
know  his  place  ;  "  who  has  said,  ''  Behold,  I  come 

*  Gen.  viii.  22.         f  Numb,  xxiii.  19.  +  Isaiah  xlvi.  10. 


296  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

quickly,  and  my  reward  is  with  me,  to  give  unto 
every  man  according  as  his  work  shall  be !  " 

Must  we  still  be  taunted  with  the  word  "  quickly^'' 
— as  if  irreconcilable  with  this  prolonged  delay  ? 

Ask  him  who  so  refers  to  it, — especially  if,  though 
"  undevout,"  he  have  any  acquaintance  with  astro- 
nomy,— whether  he  considers  the  swiftest  of  dis- 
covered planets,  Mercury,  to  move  "  quickly  "  in 
its  orbit  ?  and  whether  he  will  accept  a  computation 
which  some  observers  have  greatly  exceeded,  as  to 
the  distance  of  the  fixed  stars?  Then  suppose, 
(and  of  course  as  a  mere  supposition,)  that  no  sooner 
had  the  Prince  of  Life  ascended  —  perhaps  by  in- 
stantaneous miracle — "far  above  all  heavens,"  than 
He  actually  began  the  triumphal  and  judicial  regress 
of  his  final  advent ;  and  ever  since,  encompassed  by 
"  his  mighty  angels,"  has  approached  us  with  a 
velocity  equal  to  that  with  which  Mercury  revolves. 
Question  the  objector,  how  soon  would  this  awful 
procession  reach  our  world  even  from  the  nearest 
star ;  and  he  may  answer  you,  —  In  about  eight 
thousand  years.  Should  he  however  add,  —  This 
were  but  a  lingering  rate  of  progress  for  Him  who 
orders  and  impels  the  flight  of  sunbeams,  —  let  it 
be  remembered  that  the  local  distance  we  have  as- 
signed for  the  commencement  of  that  progress  is  re- 
latively narrow  :  that  the  "  heaven  of  heavens," 
the   central  glory,*  the  abode  of  the  "  Majesty  on 

*  Note  H,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  297 

High,"  is,  in  all  likelihood,  immensely  more  remote: 
Herschel  having  "discovered  objects  whose  distances 
he  estimates  to  be  so  great,  that  their  liglit  must 
have  been  nearly  two  millions  of  years  in  travelling 
down  to  us."  *  But  the  radiations  or  undulations 
of  light  possess  a  velocity  so  surpassing  and  incom- 
prehensible, that  for  this  among  other  reasons  its 
materiality  has  been  questioned ;  and  yet  a  space 
which  light  has  been  twice  ten  thousand  centuries 
in  traversing,  "  probably  comprehends  but  a  small 
part  of  the  universe."  f 

Let  us  therefore  imagine  (which  I  repeat,  in  no 
degree  implies  or  intimates  such  an  opinion)  that 
the  "  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  "  were  not  to  be  "  re- 
vealed from  heaven,"  for  millennial  cycles  of  ages 
vet  to  come, — would  it  even  then  be  for  modern 
philosophy  to  insinuate  that  he  spake  not  truly,  or 
even  not  literally,  when  afl&rming,  "  Behold,  I  come 
quickly  ?  " 

Must  an  orb,  compared  with  whose  rapidity  the 
voice  of  thunders  and  the  flight  of  our  swiftest  mis- 
siles of  destruction  are  but  tedious,  be  yet  eighty 
centuries  %  traversing  a  small  portion  of  our  visible 

*  Phil.  Trans.  1802.  Quoted  in  Vince's  Confutation  of  Atheism, 
p.  29. 

t  Ibid. 

X  This  comparison  is  founded  on  the  statement  in  Rees's  Cyclo- 
pedia, that  "  a  cannon  ball  moving  at  the  rate  of  about  19  miles  a 
minute,  would  be  760,000  years  passing  from  the  nearest  fixed  star ;" 
and   that  "  sound,  which  moves  at  the  rate  of  about  13  miles  a 


298  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

heavens,  —  must  rays  or  undulations  which  are  in- 
conceivably more  rapid  than  that  orb,  be  millions 
of  years  in  reaching  us  from  some  remoter  star, — 
and  shall  it  be  said  that  the  '*  chariots  of  God  "  are 
like  those  of  Egypt's  host,  who  "  drave  them  heavi- 
ly," because  not  yet  arrived  at  these  suburbs  or  out- 
skirts of  creation  from  the  central  throne  and 
"right  hand  of  the  Most  High?"  Ere  He  who 
*'  sitteth  thereon  "  shall  have  fulfilled  his  glori- 
ous progress,  "  travelling  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength  "  more  swiftly  than  planets  or  than  sun- 
beams in  their  courses,  with  all  that  "  dread  mag- 
nificent array,"  —  how  many  proud  measurers  of 
*'  hand-breadths,"  who  exclaim,  forgetful  of  their 
boasted  science,  "Your  Lord  delayeth  his  coming," 
may  have  been  borne  away  by  inexorable  Death  to 
meet  Him  ? 

If  the  rapid  undulations  of  the  minutest  sound, 
and  the  far  more  rapid  movements  of  planets,  are 
strictly  governed  by  Him  with  whom  is  "no  varia- 
bleness," nor  does  any  irregularity  betray  even  "  a 
shadow  of  turning,"  shall  not  his  own  approach  be 
expected  with  as  confident  and  "  patient  waiting," 
as  the  return  of  comets  that  have  vanished  from 
our  skies  ? 

But  while  thus  the  fixed  and  moving  worlds, — at 

minute,  would  be  1,120,000  years  "  traversing  the  same  distance. 
It  is  stated  in  Bonnycastle's  Astronomy,  (p.  31,)  that  Mercury  in  its 
course  round  the  sun  "  moves  at  the  rate  of  about  105,000  miles  an 
Jiour  ;  "  more  than  130  times  as  fast  as  the  flight  of  sound. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  299 

once  by  their  sameness  and  their  revolutions,  their 
remoteness  and  celerity, — utter  unnumbered  echoes 
to  the  recorded  "  word,"  —  so  also  that  change  and 
progression  in  human  affairs,  which,  amidst  much 
of  like  sameness  and  stability,  become  yearly  more 
observable,  present  to  us  another  order  of  corrobor- 
ative facts,  which,  though  on  a  minuter  scale,  are 
perhaps  not  less  significant.  I  have  said, — amidst 
much  of  like  sameness  and  stability  ; — because  in 
many  points,  the  unchangeableness  and  complete- 
ness of  Divine  sovereignty  are  strongly  manifested 
in  the  limitation  of  human  nature  as  to  its  capaci- 
ties and  its  advances.  The  boasted  "  perfectibility  " 
of  certain  self-sufficient  and  imaginative  speculators 
in  Europe,  remains  as  ideal  as  the  earthly  immor- 
tality of  Lao-Kung  in  China.*  Still,  as  in  the 
psalmist's  age,  "the  days  of  our  years  are  three- 
score years  and  ten."  The  bodily  form  and  consti- 
tution, the  daily  wants,  the  mental  affections  of 
man  are  mainly  unaltered.  His  Maker  and  Pre- 
server "  hath  appointed  the  bounds  that  he  cannot 
pass."  No  philosophic  voice  dares  tell  us,  "  He 
that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die  : "  "I  will 
raise  him  up  at  the  last  day  : "  but  the  Divine  voice 
which  -spake  those  words  with  authority,  and  in 
whose  name  they  are  reiterated,  still  challenges  the 
"  wise  "  of  this  world  to  add  "  one  cubit  to  his 
stature,"  or   "  make   one   hair   white    or    black." 

*  Barrow's  China,  p.  463. 


300  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

Amidst  those  permitted  advances,  and  noble  aug- 
mentations of  power,  which  we  are  now  to  speak  of, 
man  remains  at  most  points  as  dependent  as  ever, 
unable  to  add  one  month  to  his  life,  or  one  muscle 
to  his  frame.  He  is  still  constrained,  as  in  the  days 
of  ancient  times,  to  view  himself  as  a  being  "  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  made  "  by  some  invisible  but 
unchanging  Power ;  and  those  changes  in  the  con- 
dition and  capacities  of  the  race,  of  which  in  his 
generation  he  is  invited  to  avail  himself,  are  the 
permitted  work  of  nations  and  of  ages ;  in  which 
his  own  share,  if  it  be  any,  is  for  the  most  part  very 
minute.  Yet  on  the  other  hand,  amidst  all  this 
sameness  and  these  marked  restraints,  how  import- 
ant and  accelerated  are  those  advances  of  human 
science,  art,  and  power  !  The  great  though  simple 
invention  of  "  imprinting,"*  with  all  its  consequent 
applications, — which  has  given  means  of  cheap  and 
boundless  diffusion  for  scriptural  and  all  other  know- 
ledge,—  that  likewise  of  optical  instruments  and 
mathematical  processes  which  have  perfected  the 
art  of  navigation,  —  the  recent  accession  to  this  and 
other  modes  of  locomotion,  by  an  immense  motive 
force  both  on  sea  and  land, — the  conjunct  tendency 
of  these  things  to  spread  both  scientific  and  revealed 
truth  swiftly  throughout  the  world,  and  the  fact  that 
each  of  these  discoveries  was  made  in  countries  en- 

*  This  word  (seen  on  old  title-pages,)  may  include,  I  think,  with 
typography  in  all  its  modes,  the  kindred  arts  of  lithography,  en- 
graving, etc.,  with  their  most  recent  improvements. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  301 

lightened  by  the  gospel, — all  these  are  wonderfully 
consonant  with  the  written  and  once  spoken  pro- 
mise, ''  Behold,  I  come!"  They  are  as  new  voices 
in  the  wilderness  of  earthly  labours,  or  amidst  the 
desert  of  human  disappointments,  which  cry,  "  Pre- 
pare ye  the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  straight  a  highway 
for  our  God." 

I  doubt  not  that  some  of  the  "wise-hearted,"* 
the  ingenious  and  inventive,  forgetting  whence  their 
own  talents  came,  have  sneered  at  the  language 
of  Moses,  when  he  describes  the  "  son  of  Uri " 
as  "  called "  and  filled  with  a  heaven-descended 
"  spirit,"  that  he  might  "  devise  curious  works," 
might  attain  expertness  in  arts  unknown  to  his 
nation,  and  aptness  to  teach  others  also,  in  order  to 
the  prompt  completion  of  a  fitting  sanctuary.  But 
such  scorn,  if  not  atheistic,  is  at  least  self-idolizing 
and  superficial.  "  The  Father  of  lights,"  while  he 
confers  and  sustains  in  those  who  indulge  it  each 
faculty  and  each  acquirement  which  they  possess, 
does  but  permit  that  infatuation  of  their  pride,  that 
blind  deification  of  second  causes  or  successive 
means,  by  which  they  learn  to  despise  a  reference 
to  His  special  providence  almost  as  much  as  to  His 
special  grace.  It  must  still  be  true  in  the  judgment 
of  real  theists,  (and  not  the  less  for  that  chain  of 

*  Using  the  term  in  that  very  limited  sense  which  it  has  in  Exod. 
xxviii.  3;  xxxi.  6;  xxxv.  25,  etc. — Those  texts  are  curiously  illus- 
trated by  a  passage  in  Aristotle,  Eth.  Nicom.  1.  vi.  c.  7. 
2    D 


302  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY.  XIII. 

causes  or  instruments  which  those  men  exclusively 
regard  and  boast  of,)  that  "  every  good  gift "  de- 
scends from  God.  Particularly  with  respect  to 
every  intellectual  power  and  effort,  the  question  of 
a  most  ancient  book  will  never  lose  its  force, — 
"  Who  hath  put  wisdom  in  the  inward  parts,  or 
who  hath  given  understanding  to  the  heart  ?  "*  The 
same  book  supplies  our  only  right  answer, — "  The 
inspiration  of  the  Almighty."  f 

Whatever  hyperbole  and  approach  to  impious 
flattery  there  may  be  in  Pope's  epitaph  on  our  great 
philosopher,  none  but  a  virtual  atheist  can  doubt 
that  it  expresses  a  great  truth  in  declaring, 

"  God  said,  Let  Newton  he  :  "  + 

and  so  concerning  each  and  all  of  our  race,  un- 
known or  well  known,  illustrious  or  obscure,  who, 
whether  by  aid  of  a  long  train  of  previous  lights 
and  preparatives,  or  by  seeming  fortuity,  have  con- 
tributed something  to  the  advancement  of  mankind, 
it  should  be  distinctly  recognised  that  He  who  or- 
dereth  all  things,  has  "  in  very  deed  for  this  cause 
raised  them  up,"  or  for  this  same  purpose  endowed 
them.  The  antecedent  or  surrounding  train  was 
laid  either  by  the  cumulated  labour  of  ages,  or  by 
the  rich  concurrence  of  natural  gifts  ;  still  it  is  as 
true,  though  not  as  manifestly  so,  of  Faust  or  Gutten- 

*  Job  xxxviii.  36.  t  Ibid,  xxxii.  8. 

X  See  Note  I,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  303 

burg,  Galileo  or  Watt,  as  of  Bezaleel  and  Aholiab, 
that  the  Great  Disposer  "  called  them  by  name," 
and  ordained  them  "to  devise  curious  works."* 
If  "  the  Assyrian  "  was  "  the  rod  of  his  anger,"  the 
"staff"  of  his  "  indignation,"  t  why  shall  not  a 
Bacon,  or  a  Davy,  or  a  Kepler,  be  viewed  as  wands 
of  his  beneficent  power,  cleaving,  as  it  were,  the 
waves  of  obscurity  and  error ;  smiting  out  the 
streams  of  knowledge  in  the  wilderness  ;  or  "  blos- 
soming," and  "  yielding  "  unaccustomed  fruits  ? 
"Who  hath  made  man's  mouth?  or  who  maketh 
the  dumb,  or  the  deaf,  or  the  seeing,  or  the  blind  ?  " 
— or  who  confers  the  vigorous,  capacious,  penetrat- 
ing intellect?  There  are,  it  may  be,  proud  pos- 
sessors of  that  gift  (though  I  hope  such  a  spirit  has 
very  rarely  been  associated  with  British  science) 
who  would  scorn  to  be  denominated  instruments  in 
the  hand  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence.  And  so, 
doubtless,  would  the  royal  Assyrian  have  scorned 
to  be  termed  the  unsuspecting  scourge  in  the  hand 
of  Divine  Justice.J  But  in  each  case  we  may  per- 
tinently ask, — "  Shall  the  axe  boast  itself  against 
him  that  heweth  therewith  ?  "  §  We  are  obliged,  as 
theists,  and  let  it  be  also  our  consolation,  as  Chris- 
tians, to  trace  in  those  advances  which  arise  amidst 
the  sameness  and  feebleness  of  human  society,  and 

*  Exod.  XXXV.  30—32. 

t  Isa.  X.  5.     See  Abp.  Seeker  in  Lowth's  Isa,,  vol.  ii.  p.  106. 

X  Isa.  X.  7.  §  Isa.  x.  15. 

2  D  2 


304  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

which  facilitate  the  accomplishment  of  revealed 
promises, —  new  tokens,  and  preludes  of  their  ap- 
proaching completion  ;  new  parts,  as  it  were,  in 
that  grand  overture,  whose  very  discords  have  in 
them  a  latent  harmony ;  still  ushering  in  the  per- 
fect consummation  ;  still  burdened  with  these  solemn 
strains  of  prophecy,  —  "  Surely  I  come  quickly,"  — 
"  Behold,  I  make  all  things  new  !  " 

Once  more,  amidst  many  awakening  secular 
changes,  there  is  yet  found  a  durability  in  the  chief 
tenets  and  best  emotions  of  the  devout  members  of 
Christ's  church,  which  yields  a  further  and  happy 
attestation  that  their  source  has  been  Divine.  We 
might,  indeed,  have  ranked  this  among  the  widen- 
ing seals  of  prophetic  promise  ;  the  fulfilment,  thus 
far,  of  those  distinct  assurances  —  "  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  always  " — "  The  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  :" 
— but  passing  by  its  claim  as  a  fulfilled  prediction, 
let  us  view  it  simply  as  an  unexampled  fact.  Do 
not  the  steadiness  and  brio;htness  of  these  sea-lig^hts, 
(the  true  followers  of  Christ)  through  the  tempests  of 
all  ages,  contribute  to  show  that  they  are  founded  on 
the  everlasting  rock,  and  fed  with  fire  from  heaven? 

Although  the  principles  of  the  religious  system 
least  remote  from  ours,  —  that  of  Mohammed, — 
should  prove  equally  enduring,  this  would  present 
no  parallel.  For  who  will  pretend  that  in  the  best 
adherents, — the  "  true  church  "  if  I  may  so  speak — 
of  that  false  prophet,  (much  as  he  was  indebted   to 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  305 

the  gospel,)  there  has  been  or  is  that  purity  of 
moral  principle  ;  that  chastened  and  transforming 
ardour  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity  ;  that  pure  but 
enlightened  self-denial  and  philanthropy ;  of  which 
indisputable  specimens  still  are  found,  under  each 
diversity  of  name  and  form  and  section,  among  the 
disciples  of  Christ?  We  wonder  not,  as  far  as 
human  nature  is  concerned,  at  the  permanence  of 
the  Mohammedan  system.  "The  world"  is  not 
against  it,  for  it  was  constructed  to  suit  and  capti- 
vate the  world  ;  and  if  its  "  methodism,"  a  zeal  for 
its  forms  or  for  its  fanaticism,  were  despised  and 
persecuted,  the  world  would  cease  to  "  love  its  own." 
These  forms,  and  this  fanaticism,  it  possesses  in 
common  with  all  or  most  of  the  idolatrous  systems 
which  it  condemns.  The  mosque,  therefore,  is  not 
as  a  sea-built  light-house,  with  all  the  waves  of 
worldly  passions  sapping  or  assaulting  it :  it  was 
reared  on  the  iron  pillars  of  force,  and  its  gilded 
lamps  have  been  fanned  by  luxurious  breezes.  But 
Christian  churches,  properly  so  called,  that  is,  the 
"faithful  "  of  each  communion  and  of  each  assem- 
bly, forming  collectively  the  church  universal, — and 
each  of  these  faithful  persons  themselves,  —  are  in 
some  true  and  important  sense,  (though  less  ob- 
viously than  in  ancient  times,)  still  "light-houses 
in  the  world."  ^     Each  cherishes   the  separate  yet 

*  Phil.  ii.  15.     Saurin  (Ser,  vol.  ix.  p.  460,  as  quoted  by  Doddr. 
n  loc.)  suggests  this  allusion. 

2  D  3 


306  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII 

combining  spark  of  faith  and  love  ;  and  all  conspire 
to  brighten  in  their  day  those  beacons  which  have 
withstood  the  storms  of  time,  and  shed  some  moral 
and  celestial  light  even  on  the  darkest  ages  of  our 
era.  They  have  glowed  brightly  amidst  the  hurri- 
canes of  persecuting  violence  which  threatened  their 
extinction,  and  they  still  glow,  if  dimly,  amidst  the 
pestiferous  vapour  of  unbelief  which  seeks  to  chill 
and  quench  them  with  its  paralysing  enmity.  And 
even  if  many  should  be  quenched,  (as  some  unhap- 
pily have  been,)  and  many  should  "  wax  cold," — 
nay  were  there  only  left,  which  may  God  forbid, 
"  seven  thousand  "  of  our  millions,  who  had  not 
bowed  in  the  self-idolatry  of  the  godless, — yet  would 
the  "  burning  "  and  growing  ^'  light"  of  those,  amidst 
their  desolateness,  still  confirm  their  mutual  trust 
that  God  "abideth  faithful."  More  than  this,  it 
would  be  an  earnest  of  that  new  and  swift  diifusion, 
which  his  good  pleasure  can,  in  any  region,  and  at 
any  moment,  give,  to  "  the  light  that  shineth  in 
darkness." 

In  this  sense  the  sighing  of  the  heart,  —  when, 
though  alloyed  by  impatience  or  distrust,  it  is  yet 
devout  and  hopeful, — the  Christian's  spiritual  atti- 
tude of  vigilant  expectance,*  "  looking  for  and  hast- 
ing unto  the  coming  of  the  day  of  God," — is  as 
a  flamy  gem,  like  those  related  to  have  blazed  upon 

*  airoKapaSoKia.      Rom.  viii.  19,  and  Phil.  i.  20. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  307 

the  High  Priest's  mystic  breastplate  ;  *  sparkling 
forth  legibly — man  is  not  "made  in  vain," but  made 
to  be  reunited  with  his  God. — Sceptics  have  said,  "  If 
God  had  given  a  revelation,  he  would  have  written 
it  in  the  skies."  i-  But  besides  its  being,  in  one 
sense,  true  and  obvious  that  He  hatli  done  so  ;  and 
in  another  sense,  (as  Dr.  Paley  has  remarked,)  con- 
trary to  the  analogy  of  the  whole  system  of  things 
that  He  should  do  ?>o ;%  it  is  also  most  cheer- 
ingly  true  and  apparent  that  He  hath  written  it  in 
the  earth;  placing  within  "  earthen  vessels  "  (as  in 
the  lamps  of  Gideon)  heaven-descended  flames,  ever 
aspiring,  discernible  already  by  their  warmth  and 
gleaming,  but  ready  first  to  shine  forth  brightly 
when  the  frail  pitchers  crumble.  Such  flames  in- 
urned,  and  sometimes  in  the  meanest  clay,  have 
been  always  many;  still  breathing  heavenward,  and 
each  one  —  like  a  "tongue"  of  fire  —  responding  to 
each  word  and  echo  of  the  heavenly  promise  — 
"  Even  so,  come.  Lord  Jesus." 

That  ardent  Rutherford,  whose  letters,  through 
twenty  years,  had  overflowed  with  ceaseless  aspira- 
tions, "  Oh  would  my  Lord  cut  short  the  months 
and  hours,  and  overleap  time,  that  w^e  might  nieet,"§ 
often  in  his  dying  weakness  uttered  the  im.passioned 
wish,  "  Oh  for  arms  to  embrace  Him  !  oh  for  a 
well-tuned  harp  ! " 

The  devoted   Herbert,  whose  temper  seems  gra- 

*  Joseph.  Ant.,  iii.  8.     L'  Estrange,  p.  G9. 
t  Paley's  Evidences,  v,  ii.  347.         :J:  Ibid.        §  Letters,  p.  239. 


308  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

phically  expressed  in  his  poem  entitled  "  Home," 
beginning, 

"  Come,  Lord,  my  head  doth  burn,  my  heart  is  sick, 

While  thou  dost  ever,  ever  stay ; 

Oh  show  thyself  to  me. 
Or  take  me  up  to  thee  !  " 

said,  a  little  before  he  departed,  with  a  calmer  fer- 
vour, "  I  shall  shortly  leave  this  valley  of  tears, 
and  dwell  where  these  eyes  shall  see  my  Master 
and  Saviour  Jesus." — "  And  this  is  my  content,  that 
I  shall  live  the  less  time  for  having  lived  this  and 
the  day  past."  * 

Howe,  in  a  brief  memorial  of  a  benevolent  and 
Christian  physician,  Dr.  Henry  Sampson,  states, 
"  In  all  my  conversation  with  him,  nothing  was 
more  observable  than  his  pleasant  and  patient  ex- 
pectation of  the  blessed  state  which  he  now  pos- 
sesses ;  the  mention  whereof  would  make  joy  sparkle 
in  his  eye,  and  clothe  his  countenance  with  such 
tokens  of  serenity,  as  showed  and  signified  submis- 
sion, with  an  unreluctant  willingness  to  wait  for 
that  time  which  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God 
should  judge  seasonable  for  his  removal  out  of  a 
world  which  he  loved  not ;  nor  yet  could  disaffect 
from  any  sense  of  its  unkindness  to  him,  but  only 
from  the  prospect  he  had  of  a  better.^' f 

How  fully  the  biographer  himself  partook  the 
temper  which  he  here  delineates  as  evinced   by  a 

*  Life,  prefixed  to  his  Poems,  p.  4L 
t  Works,  i,  096,  697.  Fol.  edit. 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  309 

friend,  remarkably  appears  in  his  having  "  once 
told  his  wife,  that  though  he  loved  her  as  well  as  is 
fit  for  one  creature  to  love  another,  yet  if  it  were 
put  to  his  choice  whether  to  die  that  moment,  or  to 
live  that  night,  and  the  living  that  night  would  se- 
cure the  continuance  of  his  life  for  seven  years  to 
come,  he  declared  he  would  choose  to  die  that  mo- 
ment."* 

And  lest  it  should  be  insinuated  that,  however  it 
may  be  with  divines  or  devotees,  this  holy  flame  has 
now  gone  out  in  minds  really  imbued  with  modern 
science,  quenched  by  that  broad  clear  day-light, — as 
our  coal  fires  are  found  to  grow  faint  and  lifeless 
if  exposed  to  the  bright  sunbeams, — I  shall  add  the 
recent  instance  of  a  physician  distinguished  by  sci- 
entific and  literary  merit ;  the  late  Dr.  Thomas 
Bateman.  In  an  excellent  memoir,  (composed,  I  am 
informed,  by  his  sister,)  we  are  told  that  he  had 
been  inclined  "  to  the  wretched  doctrine  of  Mate- 
rialism," and  "  sceptical  respecting  the  truth  of  Di- 
vine Revelation."  But  exactly  twelve  months  be- 
fore his  decease,  (which  occurred  "  in  the  prime  of 
life,  at  the  age  of  forty-three,")  he  attained  a  hap- 
py persuasion  of  that  truth  which  he  had  long 
opposed.  It  deserves  attention,  that  during  four 
previous  years  of  illness  (from  1815  to  1820)  he 
continued  in  "  total  estrangement  from  God  and 
religion  ;"  and  not  less,  —  that  "  his  mind  retained 

*  Calamy's  Memoir  of  Howe,  prefixed  to  his  Works,  v.  i.  p.  74. 


310  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

all  its  powers  in  full  vigour  to  the  last  moment  of 
life,  and  was  never  once  clouded  or  debilitated." — 
*'  During  the  last  week  especially,  the  strength  and 
clearness  of  his  intellect  and  of  his  spiritual  per- 
ceptions were  very  remarkable  ;  and  on  its  being 
one  day  observed  to  him,  that  as  his  bodily  powers 
decayed,  those  of  his  soul  seemed  to  become  more 
vigorous,  he  replied, — They  do,  exactly  in  an  inverse 
ratio  ;  I  have  been  very  sensible  of  it." — "  He  con- 
versed with  the  greatest  animation  all  the  day  and 
almost  all  the  night  preceding  his  death,  princi- 
pally on  the  joys  of  heaven  and  the  glorious  change 
he  was  soon  to  experience,  often  exclaiming, — 
What  a  happy  hour  will  the  hour  of  death  be  ! — 
Some  of  his  last  words  were — Oh  yes !  I  am  glad 
to  go,  if  it  be  the  Lord's  will. — He  shut  his  eyes 
and  lay  quite  composed,  and  by  and  by  said, — 
What  glory !  the  angels  are  waiting  for  me  !  Then, 
after  another  short  interval  of  quiet,  he  added, — 
Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  soul ; — and,  to  those  who 
were  about  him, — Farewell.  These  were  the  last 
words  he  spoke."  In  about  ten  minutes  after  this 
he  breathed  his  last,  on  "the  9th  of  April,  1821, 
the  very  day  on  which,  twelve  months  before,  his 
mind  had  been  first  awakened  to  the  hopes  and  joys 

of  the  ever-blessed  gospel." "  What  a  contrast " 

(adds  his  biographer)  "  did  his  actual  departure 
form  to  what  I  had  reason  to  apprehend,  when  I 
watched  over  his  couch  in  London,  expecting  that 
every  moment  would  be  his  last !   and  when,  with 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  311 

a  hard  indifference  and  insensibility,  he  talked  only 
of  going  to  his  '  last  sleep ! '  And  how  can  I  wor- 
thily acknowledge  the  goodness  of  Almighty  God, 
who  effected  such  a  change  in  his  state  !  "^ 

Thousands  of  Christians,  quite  unknown  to  fame,  but 
well  known  to  "brotherly  kindness,"  have  evinced 
in  their  humble  days  of  life  and  hours  of  death,  a 
desire  and  hope  as  fervid  and  as  pure.  And  is  not 
each  such  instance,  near  us  or  remote,  a  living  voice 
the  more, — testifying,  like  all  the  rest,  that  heavenly 
power  awakened  it  ?  One  of  the  devout  men  who 
have  been  mentioned  as  strongly  exemplifying  this 
spirit,  thus  comments  on  its  origin:  —  "He  that 
hath  wrought  us  for  this  selfsame  thing  is  God.''' 
— "  For  that  such  a  work  should  be  done  upon  such 
creatures ;  to  mould  them  into  such  a  frame,  that 
now  nothing  terrestrial,  nothing  temporary,  nothing 
within  the  region  of  mortality  will  satisfy  ;  but  they 
are  restless  for  that  state  wherein  mortality  shall  be 
swallowed  up  of  life, — this  is  the  work  of  Deity,  f 

The  natural  desire  of  life  to  come,  and  the  dread 
into  which  this  is  changed  by  crime,  are  justly 
adduced  by  sound  philosophy  as  among  the  "strong 
presumptions  of  a  future  state."  J     But  this  natural 

*  Memoir  in  the  Christian  Observer,  Nov.  1821,  pp.  665—672.  A 
still  later  and  not  less  signal  instance  —  in  the  same  scientific  pro- 
fession,— is  that  of  Dr.  John  D.  Godman,  an  eminent  naturalist  and 
lecturer  on  anatomy,  in  America,  who  died  in  1830,  a  sketch  of  whose 
life  is  published  by  "  the  Society  of  Friends." 
t  Howe's  Works,  i.  680. 
+  Dugald  Stewart,  Act.  and  Mor.  Powers,  ii.  206,  et  sup. 


312  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

desire  is  manifestly  faint  and  variable,  in  compari- 
son with  that  new  and  concentrated  sentiment  of 
hope  and  love  which  burns  in  hearts  that  have  most 
steadfastly  embraced  the  gospel  promise.  Is  not 
this  latter  therefore  to  be  held  "  a  strong  presump- 
tion," a  noble  experimental  argument,  for  the  re- 
alhy  of  that  pure  and  lofty  happiness  from  which 
sinful  nature  shrinks,  but  which  this  gospel  at  once 
discloses  and  makes  lovely  ? — Let  us  watch  and  pray 
for  growth  in  every  grace,  that  we  may  be  far  more 
unquestionably  numbered  among  these  aspiring  wit- 
nesses, whose  "citizenship"  is  so  manifestly  "in 
heaven."  It  should  be  remarked  that  the  Divine 
origin  of  those  desires  and  hopes  is  confirmed,  by 
their  not  being  of  a  selfish  character  ;  not  sighs  of 
mere  personal  heaviness  or  pain^ — not  for  mere  per- 
sonal deliverance  from  conflicts  and  from  sorrows — 
but  sighs  which  are  sympathetic  ;  first  with  the 
whole  body  of  Christ, — for  "  if  one  member  suff*er 
all  the  members  sympathize  ;  "  *  then  mingling  with 
the  interceding  groans  of  all  that  mystic  body  with 
and  for  "  the  whole  creation  ;  "  for  the  last  triumph 
over  sin,  and  every  pang  that  flows  from  it ;  for  that 
blest  day  when  the  Spirit  of  God  shall  move  upon 
human  hearts  as  once  upon  "  the  waters,"  and  all 
our  alienated  race  shall  hail  and  adorn  and  celebrate 
his  "  great  salvation  !  "f 

*  1  Cor.  xii.  26. 
t  "  I  am  more  and  more  convinced,  (said  Dr.  Payson  on  his 
death -bed,)  that  the  happiness  of  heaven  is  a  benevolent  happi- 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  313 

Such  was  the  sympathy  of  Paul  when  he  wrote, 
— "  Brethren,  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God 
for  Israel  is,  that  they  might  be  saved  ;"  and  when 
his  love  to  the  Philippian  church  tempered  and 
checked  within  him  the  fervent  wish  for  what  he 
knew  to  be  "  incomparably  better," —  '*to  depart" 
and  to  be  "  present  with  his  Lord." 

These  surely  are  not  the  feelings  of  an  earthly 
and  degenerated  nature,  but  derived  from  Him 
with  whom  the  apostle  longed  to  be  "  at  home ; " 
who  "  loved  the  church,  and  gave  Himself  for  it;" 
the  "  Good  Shepherd  "  who  "  laid  down  his  life  for 
the  sheep."  It  is  true  that  some  of  us  are  distress- 
ingly conscious  of  the  languors,  intermissions,  and 
even  dubiousness,  perhaps,  of  this  spirit  in  our- 
selves ;  yet  none  who  perceive  its  excellence,  and 
pray  for  its  perfection,  can  be  warranted  to  despair 
that  they  shall  participate  the  boon  :  rather  is  it  our 
solemn  duty  to  believe,  that,  by  Him  who  will  not 
*'  quench  the  smoking  flax,"  the  spark  which  he 
has  kindled  is  discerned  in  all  its  weakness,  and 
shall  be  cherished  still. 

This  spirit  of  sympathy  embraces  even  the  in- 
ferior forms  of  sentient  life.  It  looks,  as  we  have 
said,  in  pensive  hope  upon  "  the  whole  creation  ;" 
"  travailing  in  pain  "  as  for  some  great  deliverance  ; 
and  sighs  for  that  new  paradise  where  all  modes  of 

ness.  In  proportion  as  my  joy  has  increased,  I  have  been  filled 
with  intense  love  to  all  creatures,  and  a  strong  desire  that  they 
might  partake  of  my  happiness." 

2    E 


314  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

blameless  suffering,  incidentally  the  fruits  of  sin, 
shall  cease  for  ever ;  amply  compensated  perhaps, 
as  well  as  terminated,  by  unforeseen  resources  of 
Almighty  goodness.  But  far  more  constant  and 
deep  will  be  these  sentiments,  on  behalf  of  such  as 
are  linked  with  us  in  the  strongest  bonds  of  nature 
and  society.  Often  too  faint  and  superficial  to- 
wards the  whole  church  and  towards  mankind  at 
large, — they  will  be  more  profound  and  fervent,  as 
indeed  they  ought  to  be,  in  reference  to  friends  and 
kindred  and  fellow  Christians,  with  whom  we  are 
especially  "  knit  together  in  love."  Let  it  not  be 
thought,  that  piety,  while  it  expands  our  affections, 
is  meant  or  adapted  to  equalize  or  level  them.  It 
permits  and  consecrates  to  each  heart  those  closer 
and  dearer  affinities,  while  it  creates  a  new  affinity 
with  all  the  brotherhood  of  Christ,  and  asserts  our 
original  relation  to  the  wider  brotherhood  of  man  ; 
prompting  continually  the  great  entreaty,  "  Come, 
Lord  Jesus,"  and  make  these  fraternities  but  one, — 
"  one  fold  "  under  "  one  Shepherd." 

Thus  indeed  will  the  whole  sympathy  and  inter- 
cession of  Christians  be  collectively  most  wakeful 
and  intense  ;  when  each  indulges  the  especial  effu- 
sion of  their  warmth  and  fulness  in  those  nearest, 
deepest  channels,  which  affection  and  association 
must  have  wrought  around  us.  How  often  may  we 
thus  be  prompted  to  pour  forth  the  devout  petition, 
"  Come,  Lord  Jesus,"  in  each  varied  acceptation 
which  it  admits  ! — as  it  implores  either  his  spiritual 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  315 

coming  to  renovate  the  unrenewed,  to  soothe  the 
disconsolate,  and  perfect  the  departing, — or  his  last 
and  visible  advent  to  transform  the  living,  and  sum- 
mon forth  the  dead. 

How  earnestly  on  behalf  of  those  who  are  "  bone 
of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,"  from  whom  we 
know  a  few  short  years  must  sever  us  ; — that  this 
Divine  Redeemer  would  embrace  them  with  us  in 
a  yet  stricter,  happier  union,  —  or,  if  we  be  thus 
unitedly  already  his,  would  mature  us  together  for 
endless  companionship  in  that  mansion  which  He 
ascended  to  provide  ! 

How  tenderly  for  the  "  near  and  dear  "  whom 
v/e  would  fain  have  locally  nearer  or  by  intimacy 
dearer  ;  whom  seas  or  continents  may  have  sun- 
dered from  us,  or  whom  differences  of  communion 
and  education  may  at  some  points  dissociate,  or  with 
whom  other  causes  may  preclude  the  unrestrained 
expression  of  a  deep  regard,  —  that  he  would  spi- 
ritually come  to  each,  make  us  more  indubitably 
one  in  Him,  and  prepare  us  for  that  Home  where 
vastness  shall  involve  no  remoteness,  where  diversity 
shall  induce  no  shade  of  alienation,  and  where  the 
tenderest  sentiments  of  hallowed  love  may  effuse 
themselves  without  reserve  and  multiply  themselves 
for  ever  ! 

How  fervently  as  to  the  nearest  and  dearest  that 

are  gone, — who  already   "  sleep  in  Jesus,"  whom, 

in  the  pomp  of  that  Divine  appearing,  "  shall  God 

bring  with  Him  ; " — that  He  would  soon  present  this 

2  E  2 


316  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

perfected  and  blissful  train,  among  whom  we  are 
each  to  recognise  some  that  were  "  lovely  in  their 
lives,"  and,  spiritually,  in  their  deaths  more  "  love- 
ly ;  "  who,  if  the  "  patience  of  hope  "  and  the  gen- 
tleness of  meek  endurance  be  pledges  for  the  new 
and  heightened  loveliness  of  forms  which  death  has 
marred,  will  at  "his  coming"  put  on  the  fairest 
forms  of  "  incorruption,"  the  undying  types  and 
due  concomitants  of  a  spiritual  beauty  that  shall 
best  reflect  his  own  !  Even  a  chief  of  modern 
sceptics  could  perceive,  that  "  the  most  consoling 
hope"  which  "the  beneficent  Divinity  confers  on 
virtuous  minds,"  is  that  of  "  reunion,  where  there 
shall  be  no  more  tears  of  parting ; "  and  could  own 
that  "  a  profound  and  vital  sentiment  has  inspired 
and  excited  and  enlightened  our  reason,  to  make  it 
embrace  with  transport  this  precious  expectation, 
the  desire  of  which  behoved  to  wake,  not  in  cold 
philosophic  understandings,  but  in  hearts  which 
loved." * 

With  what  superior  certainty  and  warmer  trans- 
port may  Christians  fix  on  this  "consoling  hope," 
inspired  and  sanctioned  for  them,  not   merely  by 


*  jD'  Alembert,  Eloge  de  Sacy.  Quoted  in  Stewart's  Act.  and 
Mor.  Powers,  ii.  223.  The  same  thought  is  beautifully  expressed 
by  a  modern  poet  of  the  same  nation. 

"  Apr^s  un  vain  soupir,  aprfes  I'adieu  supreme, 

De  tout  ce  qui  t'aimoit,  n'est  il  plus  rien  qui  t'aime  ? — 

Ah  !  sur  ce  grand  secret  n'interroge  que  toi ; 

Vols  mourir  ce  qui  t'aime,  Elvire, — et  reponds-moi !  " 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  317 

the  dim  though  earnest  visions  or  glimpses  of  nature, 
but  by  the  explicit  promise  of  a  perfect  social  bliss  ; 
when  our  '^  Father"  of  whom  ''  the  whole  family  in 
heaven  and  earth  is  named,"  shall  have  "  gathered 
his  children  together,"  and  He  that  "  is  not  ashamed 
to  call  them  brethren,"  shall  have  called  them  visi- 
bly into  fraternal  oneness  with  Himself!  The 
blessed  and  celestial  character  of  such  a  promise, 
the  tender  hope  with  which  unnumbered  Christian 
hearts  adhere  to  it,  the  accordance  both  of  the  pro- 
mise and  the  hope  with  our  universal  nature's  best 
presentiments, —  are  they  not  all  divinely  prophetic 
of  the  issue  ? 

May  we  pray  for  the  augmented,  unremitting 
ardour  of  such  hope,  as  a  heavenly  voice  bearing 
witness  with  our  spirits,  whispering  in  the  darkest 
solitude,  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly,"  and  eliciting 
evermore  the  responsive  supplication,  "  Come,  Lord 
Jesus !" 

And  since  we  know  that  the  blessedness  of  this 
visible  coming,  and  our  gladness  in  the  forethought 
of  it,  must  essentially  depend  on  a  previous  and 
abundant  spiritual  coming  of  "  Christ  in  us,  the 
hope  of  glory,"  —  on  our  being  more  and  more  re- 
newed and  changed  into  his  moral  image,  —  our 
prayers,  both  personal  and  intercessory,  on  this 
great  subject,  must  ever  include  (as  was  hinted  be- 
fore) these  paramount  requests.  They  should  be 
like  the  "  fervent  "  entreaties  of  Epaphras  for  his 
brethren  at  Colosse, — that  they  might "  stand  perfect 
2  E  3    "^ 


318  DISTRUSTFUL    ANXIETY  XIII. 

and  complete  in  all  the  will  of  God ; "  and  of 
Paul  for  his  Thessalonian  converts,  that  "  the  very 
God  of  peace  would  sanctify  them  wholly,  and 
their  whole  spirit  soul  and  body  be  preserved  blame- 
less unto  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. ^^ 
Let  us  ask  for  each  other  and  ourselves — "  Even  so 
corne,  Lord  Jesus  ;"  come,  first,  and  sway  thy  spi- 
ritual sceptre  here  with  a  more  constraining  and 
emancipating  power  :  let  it  touch  and  unveil  and 
banish  every  hidden  foe.  Communicate  richly  thy 
own  lowliness  and  purity.  Hasten  the  hour  when 
this  shall  never  more  be  all  that  we  dare  profess,  (as 
now  amidst  contests  or  disquietudes  of  heart,)  "  I 
love  to  love  thee!"* — but  when  at  every  moment 
we  may  warmly  breathe  the  exulting  declaration, 
"  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things,  thou  knowest  that 
I  love  Thee  !  " 

Let  us  unite  with  a  divine  of  the  last  age  in  his 
petitions  for  this  heavenly  love  :  "  Oh,  make  it 
great  in  us,  good  Lord,  as  well  as  in  Thyself !  Cause 
it  to  do  marvels  in  our  hearts,  at  it  hath  done  in 
Thine ! "  t  or  with  St.  Bernard  in  a  former  age, 
"  Hasten,  O  Lord,  delay  not.  For  the  grace  of  thy 
wisdom,  or  the  wisdom  of  thy  grace,  has  its  short 
approaches  ;  % —  where  by  no  arguments  or  discus- 
sions, there  as  by  some  secret  steps,  may  we  ascend 
to  the  torrent  of  thy  pleasures,  to  the  full  joy  of  thy 

*  See  Note  J,  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

+•  Bp.  Patrick's  Glorious  Epiphany,  p.  94. 

X  "  Compendia." 


XIII.  FOR  Christ's  coming.  319 

love.  He  to  whom  this  is  given — faithfully  seek- 
ing, faithfully  knocking, — often  suddenly  finds  him- 
self there."  * 

And  when  we  contemplate  more  peculiarly  the 
last  and  glorious  advent,  what  prayers  more  appro- 
priate and  excellent  than  those  of  the  first-named 
writer  I — "  Oh,  let  the  splendour  of  that  day  irra- 
diate my  soul,  even  at  this  distance  from  it,  and 
leave  no  space  void  of  its  light  and  comfort !  Yea,  let 
it  eclipse  all  other  joys  ;  and  by  its  glistering  beauty,, 
cause  the  small  contentments  of  this  world  to  seem 
but  as  so  many  glow-worms,  which  shine  only  in  the 
night. — The  spacious  heavens  hope  to  be  filled  with 
the  majesty  of  Thy  glory.  The  sun  is  but  a  weak 
image  of  Thy  brightness,  and  will  be  content  to  go 
out  to  make  room  for  Thee  when  thou  appearest. 
Whatsoever  is  lovely  confesses  it  is  but  Thy  shadow. 
Possess  Thyself  therefore,  Lord  of  life  and  glory, 
entirely  of  this  heart,  which  hath  been  too  long 
estranged  from  Thee.  Impress  such  a  lively  sense 
of  Thee  and  of  thy  glory  there,  that  I  may  sooner 
forget  myself  than  Thee  and  thine  appearing  !  "  f 

*  See  Note  K,  at  the  end  of  the  volume, 
t  Patrick's  Glorious  Epiphany,  pp.  114,  109,  abridged. 


XIV, 


ON  THE  PROMISE  OF  "ETERNAL  LIFE  "  AS  THE 
GREAT  REMEDY  OF  EARTHLY  SORROWS. 


There  are  woes  of  no  unfrequent  occurrence,  which 
miserably  baffle  each  proposal,  and  strike  dumb 
each  voice,  of  philosophic  or  worldly  consolation, 
whether  from  lighter  or  severer  schools  ;  which 
those  do  but  mock,  with  solemn  or  flimsy  trifling, 
who  would  lull  the  sufferers  into  a  dream  of  earthly 
possibilities,  or  harden  them  by  a  stern  theory  of 
pre-established  fate. 

But  the  revelation  of  the  Most  High  God  up- 
lifts itself,  like  a  never-setting  sun,  over  the  most 
dark  and  frowning,  the  most  lofty  and  imprisoning 
heights,  of  calamity  and  hopelessness.  Our  Saviour, 
just  before  his  own  predicted  agony,  calmly  enjoined 
his  sorrowful  disciples,  "  Let  not  your  heart  be 
troubled.     Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me. 


XIV.  PROMISE    OF    ETERNAL    LIFE.  321 

In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions. — I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you."  "  I  give  unto  my  sheep" 
(he  had  previously  declared)  ^''eternal  life,  and  they 
shall  never  perish." 

So  his  most  beloved  follower,  at  the  close  of  a 
long  and  suffering  mission,  testifies,  "  This  is  the 
record,  that  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life ;  and 
this  life  is  in  his  Son  : "  while  another  apostle,  once 
a  blasphemer  of  that  holy  name,  declares,  "  The 
gift  of  God  is  eternal  life,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord  :"  and,  "  Our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for 
a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory."  What  wonder  if  with 
such  promises,  received  and  embraced  in  "  full  as- 
surance of  hope,"  Paul  was  constrained,  amidst  his 
varied  martyrdoms,  to  "  reckon  the  sufferings  of 
this  present  time  not  worthy  to  be  weighed  against 
the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed."* 

Would  we,  however,  practically  and  atailingly 
unite  with  him  and  other  saints  in  this  most  blessed 
"  reckoning," — would  we  derive  from  the  promise 
of  "Eternal  Life"  that  strength  in  sorrows,  and 
that  stimulus  to  duties,  which  the  reality  and  mag- 
nificence of  the  prospect  should  induce, — we  must 
make  it  a  matter,  not  of  nominal  or  cursory  regard, 
but  of  heartfelt  belief,  and  of  earnest  meditation  ; 
contemplating,  so  far  as  our  powers  admit,  the  im- 
port of  the  gift ;   though  it  is  obvious  we  must  find 

*  Rom.  viii.  18,     See  ScMeusner. 


322  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

in  it  depths  and  heights  that  will  ineffably  surpass 
them. 

The  term  "  life,"  without  an  epithet,  is  some- 
times used  in  Scripture  as  an  emphatical  expression 
for  happiness.  "  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life." 
— "  I  am  come  that  ye  might  have  life."  =*  The  very 
idea  of  life,  in  this  its  highest  sense,  as  the  conscious 
existence  of  a  moral  being  unfallen,  or  perfectly 
and  blissfully  restored, — is  one  which,  till  we  are 
ourselves  thus  entirely  and  indefectibly  restored,  we 
cannot  fully  realize.  Even  apart  from  that  attri- 
bute of  endless  continuance  which  appears  to  be  in 
truth  inseparable  from  it,  there  is  something  in  such 
a  life  which  must  transcend  the  thought  of  any  not 
possessing  it.  The  gift  of  its  beginnings  does  but 
faintly  intimate  that  perfection  of  which  it  is  the 
earnest.  Some  devout  persons,  indeed,  have  attain- 
ed, even  here,  such  degrees  of  this  "  life,"  which  is 


*  "  The  life  which  we  now  live,"  (■writes  Bernard,)  "  is  rather 
death  ;  not  life  properly,  but  a  death-like  life."  "  There  shall  we 
truly  live,  where  life  is  a  lively  and  a  living  life." —  I  have  tried, 
at  the  expense  of  style,  to  give  something  like  the  force  of  his  own 
Latin  phrases : — "  Haec  enim  vita  qua  vivimus,  magis  mors  ;  nee 
simpliciter  vita,  sed  vita  mortalis."  "  Ibi  vere  vivitur,  ubi  vivida 
vita  est  et  vitalis."  ^ 

Milton  has  very  forcibly  expressed  the  same  sentiment  in  one  of 
his  finest  sonnets  : — 

■ "  This  earthly  load 


Of  death,  called  life,  which  us  from  life  doth  sever." 
1  Sti.  Bern.  0pp.  p.  558. 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  323 

"  hid  with  Christ  in  God,"  as  to  "  take  pleasure  in 
infirmities,  in  reproaches,  in  necessities,  for  Christ's 
sake  ; "  yet  we  have  not  found  the  most  eminent 
among  these  pronouncing  themselves  wholly  freed 
from  spiritual  corruption  and  paralysis  and  pain  ; 
the  marks  and  remainders  of  that  spiritual  "  death  " 
from  which  God's  mercy  has  begun  to  raise  them. 

How  fitly  all  sinfulness  or  moral  defect  is  scrip- 
turally  designated  "  death,"  we  may  infer  from  this ; 
that  the  term  Life  describes  the  highest  possession, 
and  sometimes  the  very  being,  of  the  ever-blessed 
God,  and  of  Him  who  is  one  with  the  Father.  "  As 
the  Father  hath  life  in  Himself,  so  hath  He  given 
to  the  Son  to  have  life  in  Himself." 

Such  were  the  words  of  Christ :  and  his  apostle 
afterwards  wrote  ;  "  The  Life  has  been  manifested, 
and  we  have  seen  [it,]  and  bear  witness  [to  it,]  and 
we  announce  to  you  that  Eternal  Life,  which  was 
with  the  Father,  and  has  been  manifested  to  us."* 

These  august  titles  of  "  the  Life,"  the  "  Eternal 
Life,"  thus  ascribed  to  Him  who  "  was  with  God 
and  was  God,"  correspond  also  to  the  most  holy  and 
awful  name,  Jehovah  ;  which  denotes  essential  and 
eternal  existence. 

Life,  then,  is  the  essence  and  blessedness  of  the 
"only  Potentate."  He  "  only  hath  immortality." 
It  is  his  to  confer  the  mighty  boon,  and  his  free 
grace  bestows  it  not  only  on  beings  never  separated 

*  1  John  i.  2.     Dr.  J.  P.  Smith's  version,  Script.  Test.  iii.  83. 


324  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

from  Him,  but  on  those  who,  through  his  beloved 
Son,  are  reconciled  and  re-united  to  Himself.  But 
it  is,  I  venture  to  conclude,  not  possible  on  earth, 
for  the  most  advanced  believers  to  apprehend,  even 
in  speculation,  still  less  experimentally,  the  per- 
fectness  of  such  a  life.  How  few  may  have  en- 
joyed a  single  lioiir,  which  would  equal  their  own 
faint  conceptions  of  that  pure  felicity  ;  reposing,  as 
it  were,  on  one  celestial  charmed  spot  amidst  the 
wilderness,  from  which  the  sense  of  sin  and  infirm- 
ity, and  fear,  and  grief,  was  banished  ;  the  fulness 
of  Divine  communications  having,  for  a  little  space, 
utterly  superseded  or  subdued  it !  Yet  we  are  taught 
to  meditate  not  on  an  insulated  section,  a  transitory 
portion,  of  that  life,  but  on  the  boundless  expanse 
of  it  above  and  beyond  the  wilderness.  The  gospel 
invites  us  to  pray  to  "  the  Father  of  glory,"  that 
He  "  may  give  unto  us  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  re- 
velation,"—  that  we  "  may  know  what  is  the  hope 
of  his  calling,  and  what  the  riches  of  the  glory  of 
his  inheritance." 

The  contemplation,  therefore,  of  "eternal  life," 
accompanied  by  prayer  for  heavenly  light  and 
strength,  is  a  sacred  duty  and  privilege  of  Chris- 
tians. And  surely  the  attempt  at  this  will  constrain 
us  to  prayer  ;  for  how  are  we  lost  as  we  commence, 
and  still  more  as  we  pursue  it ! 

We  possess  indeed  artificial  measures,  by  the  ad- 
dition and  succession  of  which  we  conceive  of  pro- 
tracted time.     Even  those  notations  which  human 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  325 

skill  has  devised  for  very  small  portions  of  its  flight, 
when  immensely  multiplied  in  imagination,  can  bear 
us  onward  mentally  through  enormous  periods  ; — 
so  that  when  the  hour  strikes,  or  the  very  pendulum 
vibrates,  a  mind  which  feels  the  brevity  of  this 
fleeting  scene,  and  glances  at  the  vastness  of  futu- 
rity, will  not  seldom  listen  (with  the  wakeful  poet) 
"  as  if  an  angel  spoke." 

We  have  also  natural  measures  of  time.  You 
observe  the  sun  ;  now  near,  it  may  be,  to  the  vernal 
equinox,  or  to  the  winter  solstice ;  and  you  know 
that  since  it  last  occupied,  relatively  to  us,  the  same 
position,  our  earth  has  rolled  through  its  great  orbit, 
and  another  year  is  gone.  What  would  be  the  im- 
pression of  the  "  solemn  sound,"  if  at  some  annual 
period,  a  fixed  number  of  loud  and  distinct  thun- 
derings  told  us  the  world's  age,  and  announced  a 
year  complete  ! — how  much  more  if,  at  each  close 
of  some  greater  natural  epoch  —  such  as  the  terres- 
trial years  of  some  remoter  planet's  revolution  —  an 
alarum  of  another  tone,  and  yet  more  awful,  pro- 
claimed the  close  and  sum  of  such  periods  ;  or, 
in  the  language  of  that  world's  chronology,  such 
greater  years  I  For  the  impression,  if  we  may  judge 
by  experience,  would  increase  in  a  direct  ratio  with 
the  length  of  the  period  indicated.  Yet  this,  though 
it  might  add  a  deep  solemnity  to  our  thoughts  of 
prolonged  duration,  could  not  enable  us  to  conceive 
of  "  eternal  life,"  but  only  to  make  us  feel  more 
2  F 


326  PROMISE    OF 


XIV. 


fully  that  it  is  inconceivable  ;  for  eternity  is  the 
negation  of  all  limit,  —  and  accumulated  measures, 
whether  very  small  or  very  great,  are  still  but  modes 
of  expressing  limitation.  If  there  be  exalted  crea- 
tures, (and  this  is  surely  probable,)  who  can  review 
many  more  millenniums  than  we  can  months  of  ex- 
istence, that  will  deepen  rather  than  solve  for  them 
the  mystery  of  "  an  endless  life  ;  "  since  the  whole 
retrospect,  with  all  its  multitude  of  scenes,  will  be 
known  and  felt  to  be  a  point,  in  comparison  with 
the  unfathomed  existence  yet  to  come. 

Although  the  words  "  everlasting  life,"  "  eternal 
happiness,"  be  familiar  to  the  lips  and  ears  of  Chris- 
tians,— what  can  be  so  utterly  foreign  and  adverse 
to  all  earthly  experience  and  prospect !  What 
position  so  gloriously  new,  so  rapturously  opposite 
to  every  habit  of  human  thought,  as  the  first  in- 
vestiture with  a  felicity  that  shall  never  end  !  Here, 
the  more  we  are  endued  with  that  reflection  on  the 
past  and  comprehension  of  the  future  which  dis- 
tinguish rational  minds,  the  more  must  decay,  and 
change,  and  evanescence  press  upon  us.  We  look 
on  the  monuments  of  antiquity,  and  they  have 
fallen  ;  on  the  flowers  of  a  new  spring,  and  they 
are  fading  ;  on  the  countenance  of  affection,  and  it 
sinks  in  death.  The  words  of  a  French  writer  are 
but  as  the  voice  of  humankind,  when  he  exclaims, 
"  I  entreat  in  vain  a  few  more  moments ;  life 
escapes  and  flies :    I  say  to  the  summer  night — Be 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  327 

slow,  but  morning  comes  dispelling  it.  Man  has 
no  haven  ;  time  has  no  pause  ;  it  rushes  onwards 
— and  we  are  gone." 

Oh,  what  a  startling  security,  what  a  superhuman 
novelty  of  bliss,  will  be  in  that  moment,  when  the 
Christian  shall  first  feel  within  himself  that  he  can 
die  no  more ;  perceiving  also  in  the  celestial  aspect 
of  those  whom  with  transport  he  recognises,  that 
"  neither  can  they  die  any  more,"  being  "  children 
of  the  resurrection  !  "  What  will  it  be  to  ffaze  for 
the  first  time  on  eyes  that  never  shall  grow  dim  ;  on  a 
face  that  shall  be  always  radiant ! — to  touch,  with  a 
hand  that  cannot  moulder,  the  harp  that  cannot  be 
untuned ;  to  be  first  made  conscious  of  a  spirit  that 
never  more  may  faint,  and  a  joy  that  must  eternally 
be  cloudless !  And  what,  to  meet  the  same  eyes  of 
benevolence  and  rapture,  when  millions  on  millions 
of  happy  ages  have  been  numbered, — and  to  find 
then  the  "  fulness  of  joy"  unabated,  the  perspective 
of  glory  unabridged  ;  the  ascending  vista  of  eternal 
life  thence  pictured  in  a  still  receding  and  more 
mysterious  immensity,  as  contrasted  with  the  abso- 
lute vastness  yet  relative  nothingness  of  that  far-ex- 
tended past.  "  Eternal  life  !  "  If  all  the  winds  of 
heaven  might  be  concentrated  to  fill  the  trump  that 
should  proclaim  it,  the  blast  would  be  but  too  feeble 
for  the  theme  :  if  all  the  constellations  of  our  fir- 
mament were  grouped  afresh  to  blazon  those  few 
letters  on  the  vault  of  heaven^  how  unspeakably 
still  would  the  fact  excel  the  legend  ! 
2  F  2 


328  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

Let  this  oppressive  sense  of  our  incapacity,  and 
that  of  all  dying  creatures,  to  realize  such  prospects, 
furnish  a  sublime  argument  of  their  boundless 
grandeur.  No  less  than  this  is  "  the  prize  of  our  high 
callino;  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus."  No  less  than  this 
"the  gift  of  God,"  which  we  think  and  hope  that 
we  believe  in  ;  and  in  some  sense,  if  we  are  indeed. 
Christians,  do  believe  in.  How  marvellous  that  we 
can  ever  forget  it  ;  that  we  are  not  on  the  contrary 
almost  absorbed  by  it  !  Yet  more  marvellous,  that 
we  can  forget  its  Author !  If  such  be  the  incalcu- 
lable donation,  what  must  the  Donor  be !  If  such 
the  untold  riches  of  a  humble  penitent's  inheritance, 
what  the  sovereign  munificence  of  Him  who  shall 
pour  forth  this  "  weight  of  glory  "  from  the  stores 
of  his  own  Being,  not  only  for  "  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels,"  but  for  a  "multitude  which 
none  can  number  "  of  redeemed  transgressors  also. 

It  may  indeed  be  well  for  the  Christian,  in  his  pre- 
sent state  of  frailty,  that  by  his  faintness  and  inade- 
quacy of  conception,  such  an  expectation  should  be 
partially  veiled.  We  have  heard  of  a  subversion 
of  the  mental  faculties  occasioned  by  the  sudden 
accession  of  great  earthly  wealth.  Yet  what  a  con- 
temptible pittance,  what  a  counterfeit  mite,  as  it 
were,  would  be  the  wealth  of  the  whole  world,  and 
ten  times  a  patriarch's  life  in  which  to  inherit  and 
enjoy  it, — as  compared  with  "  life  eternal !  " 

But  it  is  not  merely  from  inadequate  conception, 
—  nor  from  forgetfulness  of  the  unseen,  nor  from 


XIV. 


ETERNAL    LIFE.  329 


the  power  of  temporal  and  sensible  things  to  involve 
and  oppress  and  fascinate  us, — that  we  are  not  more 
consoled  or  incited  by  that  amazing  prospect  of  the 
life  to  come.  Our  languor  of  feeling  is  ascribable 
in  great  part  to  the  defectiveness  of  faith.  There  is 
a  distrust  or  hesitation  in  our  hearts.  The  promise, 
even  obscurely  as  we  view  it,  seems  too  stupendous 
for  our  littleness ;  the  grace  and  joy  too  super- 
abounding  for  our  deep  demerit. 

Now,  although  it  be  wisely  and  graciously  or- 
dained that  our  conceptions  in  this  life  should  con- 
tinue feeble,  it  is  most  devoutly  to  be  desired  and 
sought  that  our  faith  and  hope  should  cease  to 
be  so. 

Consider  therefore  some  reasons,  from  which,  by 
the  Divine  blessing,  it  may  appear  the  more  credible 
that  so  immense  and  inestimable  an  inheritance  is 
designed  for  you. 

We  find  it  perhaps  less  difficult  to  exercise  faith 
even  in  that  unparalleled  "  mystery  of  godliness," — 
the  incarnation,  sacrifice,  and  resurrection  of  the 
Son  of  God — than  in  the  promise  of  this  as  its  per- 
sonal effect.  For  in  reviewing  that  awful  drama 
of  Divine  love,  we  behold  the  redemption  and  rescue 
of  a  world.  But  when,  after  "  reaching  forth  "  to- 
wards eternal  life  as  the  purchased  fruit  of  that  re- 
demption, we  turn  from  those  dazzling  contempla- 
tions back  into  a  mean  and  sinful  selj\ — well  may 
we  recoil  in  shame  and  wonder  from  the  thought  of 
2  F  3 


330  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

such  a  gift  and  such  a  destiny.  As  an  ingenuous 
little  child,  who  would  think  himself  but  too  happy 
in  the  gifts  and  the  kindnesses  proportioned  to  his  in- 
fancy, knowing  that  his  faults  have  made  him  liable 
to  a  just  suspension  even  of  these, — if  you  could 
take  him  to  a  height  whence  he  might  survey  a 
whole  paradise  of  shining  pleasures,  and  say, — All 
these  things  will  I  give  you, — might  well  be  prompted 
to  answer, —  My  father,  you  cannot  mean  it :  all 
these  things  for  7ne ! 

How  then  may  we  best  combat  and  silence  the 
suspicion  (urged  sometimes  as  a  taunting  charge 
by  the  unbeliever's  pen)  that  it  is  presumptuous 
vanity  to  indulge  so  vast  a  hope  ;  how  strengthen 
our  confidence,  till  we  "  stagger  not  through  un- 
belief," even  at  this  mighty  and  overpowering- 
promise  ? 

First,  by  calling  to  mind,  that  not  only  the  trea- 
sures and  resources,  but  the  gifts  of  God,  must,  in 
order  to  be  worthy  of  Himself,  be  godlike  ;  and 
therefore  immense.  What  gift  too  great  for  the 
Majesty  of  the  Self-Existent,  "  the  King  Eternal, 
who  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  come,  the  Almighty  !  " 
and  how  shall  the  most  boundless  exhaust  his  gene- 
rosity or  diminish  his  abundance  !  It  is  well  known 
that  gifts,  even  from  man  to  man,  are  expected  to 
bear  a  proportion  to  the  rank  and  ability  of  the 
giver.  A  great  sovereign  bestows  imperial  dona- 
tives.    Petty  and  slight  benefactions,  though  some- 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  331 

times  beyond  the  claims  or  hopes  of  the  recipient, 
would  degrade  the  crown.  Darius,  or  Artaxerxes, 
and  the  slave  whom  he  might  "  delight  to  honour," 
and  might  therefore  choose  to  invest  not  only  with 
freedom  but  with  a  principality,  were  by  nature  on 
a  level ;  creatures  "  of  yesterday,"  sinful  and  mor- 
tal ; — yet  the  elevation,  by  mere  state  and  office,  of 
the  one  above  the  other,  renders  quite  credible  the 
princely  gift  :  but  between  the  "  King  of  kings" 
and  the  subjects  of  His  sovereign  mercy,  there  is  a 
disparity,  essential  as  well  as  official,  greater  than 
that  of  the  "  heaven  of  heavens  "  from  the  "  closet" 
where  you  kneel  before  Him.  What,  then,  if  the 
Possessor  of  all  power  and  glory  choose  to  dispense 
to  his  frail  creature  "  life  eternal  ?  "  Will  there  be 
anything  in  the  largeness  of  the  gift  which  outvies 
and  surpasses  the  supremacy  and  greatness  of  the 
Giver  ?  Rather,  may  we  not  ask,  could  anything 
less  than  infinite  be  a  gift  fully  appropriate  to  the 
grandeur  of  Him  "  that  inhabiteth  eternity'?  "  Let 
it  be  remembered,  that  if  He  bestow  immortal  life 
on  beings  far  above  us,  on  the  most  exalted  and 
perfect  of  all  celestial  creatures,  the  gift  must  in- 
finitely exceed  even  tlieh-  conceptions,  which  can  be 
but  finite  :  —  nay,  I  think,  will  exceed  them  the 
7nore,  on  account  of  the  largeness  of  their  finite  ex- 
perience.*    Yet  none  would  deem  this  an  objection 

*  See  pp.  326,  and  97,  above. 


332  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

to  the  credibility  of  such  a  gift ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
would  appear  of  all  things  most  improbable,  that 
the  Author  of  good  should  cause  the  life  of  those 
glorious  and  holy  beings  to  cease  and  be  extin- 
guished. 

And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  should  please  this 
"  God  and  Father  of  all,"  to  endow  some  creatures 
beneath  us  with  a  second  and  endless  existence,  who 
would  not  view  this  as  an  added  trophy  of  omnipotent 
beneficence,  raised  on  the  ravages  of  pain  and  death, 
by  exalting  and  perpetuating  what  had  seemed  to 
us  but  perishable  and  mean  ? 

It  may  indeed  be  objected  —  The  actual  gifts  of 
God  in  this  world  are  on  a  scale  directly  opposed 
to  such  reasonings ;  they  are  brief,  scanty,  preca- 
rious ;  life  itself  is  so  ;  much  more  all  which  life 
includes  :  on  the  fugitive  character  of  what  we  here 
possess,  you  have  been  yourself  expatiating.  The 
analogy  of  nature  therefore  is  quite  adverse  to  that 
prodigious  expectation  which  you  would  infer  or 
corroborate  from  the  infinitude  of  Him  in  whom 
you  trust. 

I  reply, — Those  temporal  bounties  of  Divine  Pro- 
vidence, however  kind  and  various,  are  not  pro- 
perly gifts  but  loans  ;  loans  for  a  transient  and  pre- 
paratory use.  It  were  no  wrong  to  that  incessant 
Goodness  which  imparts  them,  to  call  these  the 
"  prison  garments,"  diet,  and  accommodations,  of 
the    not   yet   liberated    though    ransomed    captive. 


XIV.  '  ETERNAL    LIFE.  333 

Their  scantiness  and  insufficiency  are  ordained  to 
excite  his  watchful  ardour  for  the  time  of  manu- 
mission, and  for  the  real,  exhaustless  gift  of  "  durable 
riches,"  from  his  all-sufficient  and  infinite  Deliverer. 
In  this  sense  we  may  without  presumption  say,  there 
is  but  one  "  gift  of  God"  to  man  ;  the  commencement 
and  the  growing  hope  on  earth,  and  the  plenitude  in 
heaven,  of  our  joint*  "  life  eternal ;  "  of  that  "  in- 
heritance "  which  comprehends  all  good. — Or  rather 
it  behoves  us  to  ascend  far  higher,  and  say,  this  is  itself 
comprehended  in  the  essentially  Divine  and  '*  un- 
speakable gift"  of  "Jesus  Christ  our  Lord/' — of  that 
"Eternal  Life"  which  "was  manifested,"  —  that 
Son  of  God  who  "  quickeneth  whom  He  will,"  who 
declared, — "  He  that  believeth  on  me  hath  ever- 
lasting life  ;  because  I  live  ye  shall  live  also  ;  "  and 
"ye  shall  know  that  I  am  in  my  Father,  and  you 
in  me,  and  I  in  you  :  " — who  was  Himself  given  to 
be  "  Head  over  all  things  to  the  church,  which  is 
his  body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all." 
It  is  also  by  these  last  invaluable  facts  and  doc- 
trines, that  we  can  alone  hope  to  overcome  other 
arguments  of  personal  diffidence  and  fear,  as  to  the 
possibility,  for  us,  of  so  glorious  a  possession, — argu- 
ments more  just  and  painful  than  any  which  our 
mere  littleness  or  frailty  could  suggest.  We  are 
self-arraigned  of  guilt,  unworthiness,  unthankful- 
ness.     The  very  proclamations  and  "  powers  of  the 

*  Rom.  viii.  17. 


334  PROMISE    OF 


XIV. 


world  to  come," — the  solemn  thoughts  and  absorbing 
meditations  of  it,  by  which  we  have  sometimes  been 
occupied, — stamp  a  character  of  criminal  infatua- 
tion on  our  subsequent  neglects  and  trespasses,  con- 
demned by  light  so  marvellous  and  convictions  so 
profound . 

We  feel,  besides,  our  very  defective  preparedness 
for  that  exalted  and  divine  felicity.  A  perfect  bliss 
seems  beyond  the  rational  humility  of  hope,  in  those 
who  have  so  much  offended  ;  and  especially  when 
that  endless  duration  is  contemplated,  without  which 
it  could  not  be  perfect, — with  this  overwhelming  pro- 
mise must  our  conscious  ill-desert  appear  awfully  at 
variance. 

Relief  can  be  found  only  in  that  same  evangelic 
record  where  the  promise  is  itself  contained ;  which 
rebukes  our  distrust  by  the  amazing  declaration, 
"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  his  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should 
have  everlasting  life."  "  He  that  spared  not  his 
own  Son,  how  shall  He  not  witli  Him  also  freely 
give  us  all?^'  "Who  is  he  that  condemnetli?" 
and  surely  we  may  add  —  Who  is  he  that  circmn- 
scriheth?  —  "It  is  Christ  that  died."  Who  will 
presume  to  abridge  or  limit  the  glory  and  infinity  of 
the  result  ? 

It  becomes,  in  truth,  impossible,  when  the  per- 
son of  Christ  is  once  seriously  regarded  as  Divine, 
to  expect  or  conceive  any  less  than  transcendent 
and  infinite  effects  from  his  voluntary  humiliation, 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  335 

and  his  surprising  offices  of  love.  The  death  of 
God's  "  own  Son"  is  incomparably  more  astonish- 
ing than  the  "  eternal  life  "  of  fallen  but  rescued 
mortals.  The  descent  of  true  Divinity,  by  union 
with  our  nature,  to  an  earthly  cross,  is  far  less  con- 
ceivable than  the  ascent  of  guilty  but  glorified 
humanity  to  a  heavenly  crown.  Procured  as  this 
redemption  was,  "  not  by  corruptible  things,  but  by 
the  precious  blood  of  Christ,"  except  the  result  were 
a  felicity  unchanging  and  indestructible,  there  would 
appear  nothing  in  the  issue  proportioned  to  the 
stupendous  cost.  Had  but  one  spirit  in  the  creation 
fallen,  and  could  we  suppose  for  that  ruined  one  the 
infinite  atonement  marvellously  offered,  and  pro- 
curing "life  eternal,"  there  were  yet  in  this  one 
endless  result  a  sort  of  infinity,  correspondent,  in 
that  sense,  to  the  infinity  of  the  offering ;  whereas, 
on  the  contrary,  were  redemption  from  wrath  ex- 
tended to  all  fallen  spirits,  human  and  superhuman, 
and  were  their  number  a  thousandfold  greater  than 
it  is,  still  had  this  redemption  been  but  to  a  termin- 
able life  and  blessedness,  there  would  have  been 
actually  nothing  infinite  in  the  effect  and  reward  of 
the  Redeemer's  love.  Nay,  there  would  have  ar- 
rived a  period  (whatever  be  supposed  its  remoteness) 
in  which  all  direct  results  from  it  would  have 
ceased,  and  been  extinct ;  a  supposition  so  inadmis- 
sible, that  even  to  advert  to  it  may  appear  almost 
irreverent.     If,  therefore,  we  believe  in  redemption. 


336  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

as  achieved  by  Him  "  in  whom  dvvelleth  all  the 
fulness  of  the  Godhead,"  the  character  of  this  act 
itself,  and  of  Him  who  wrought  it,  must  demonstrate 
the  eternal  life  of  the  redeemed,  even  although 
their  eternal  life  were  not  distinctly  promised. 

It  seems,  on  all  grounds,  but  consonant  to  the 
majesty  of  the  universal  Lord,  that  there  be  gems 
about  his  throne  which  cannot  perish  or  "  wax  old," 
as  well  as  garlands  which  may  fade  and  be  replaced. 
Matter,  with  its  vicissitudes  of  beauty  and  decay, 
is  but  as  the  garland.  Spirits,  in  their  intelligent 
and  moral  splendour,  redeemed  and  renovated,  or 
sustained  in  their  primeval  purity, —  these  are  the 
gems  which  he  himself  hath  polished  ;  nay,  which 
were  "purchased  and  cleansed  with  richer  blood." 
— For  who  knows  but  that  "  his  holy  angels"  have 
been  morally  upholden  in  "  their  first  estate,"  by 
that  view  of  Divine  holiness  and  the  malignity  of 
evil,  which  the  human  redemption  first  prospect- 
ively and  then  actually  supplied  ?  —  Is  it,  then,  too 
vast  and  satisfying  a  recompense  for  the  "  travail " 
of  the  Redeemer's  soul,  that  "jewels  "  preserved  or 
ransomed  at  so  dear  a  rate,  should  shine  eternally, 
— and  that  none  should  "  pluck  them  out  of  his 
hand?  "  Is  it  not  due  to  the  glorious  humility  and 
costly  love,  of  Him  who  *'  came  to  save  that  which 
was  lost,"  that  there  'should  be  no  futurity — ^^no 
coming  age  even  beyond  the  ages  of  ages — in  which 
it  will  not  still  be  sung,  and  ever  vet  to  sing, —  Lo  ! 


XIV. 


ETERNAL    LIFE.  337 


these  are  the  trophies  of  that  ancient  victory  won  in 
the  infancy  of  Time  ;  these  are  they  which  came  out 
of  2:reat  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes  and 
made  them  w^hite  in  the  "  blood  of  the  Lamb  ;  " 
tliese  are  they  who  have  their  security  and  pledge 
for  "  endless  life,"  in  the  Divine  grandeur  of  that 
enterprise  which  their  blessedness  commemorates, 
and  must  for  ever  commemorate.  Should  the  Eter- 
nal stoop  from  his  throne,  the  Son  of  God  disrobe 
himself  of  his  celestial  glories,  and  the  result  be  a 
perishable  triumph,  an  inheritance  that  fadeth  away? 
Rather  let  the  guilty  and  the  frail  consent,  with 
self-renouncing,  wondering  gratitude,  that  "  He  be 
admired  and  glorified"  in  their  endless  exaltation, 
—  though  they  cannot  lose,  in  contemplating  those 
honours  which  accrue  to  Him,  the  sense  of  infinite 
disproportion  in  the  gift  to  ihem.  And  here  let  me 
observe,  that  this  accordance  between  the  "  eternal 
life  "  of  the  spirits  of  the  just,  and  the  Divine  "  pre- 
ciousness  "  of  their  redemption,  confirms  the  truth 
of  this  latter  doctrine,  as  well  as  of  the  former  ;  and 
that  without  any  fallacy  of  reciprocal  reasoning. 
For  of  "  eternal  life  "  there  are  distinct  scriptural 
promises  ;  and  some  who  (to  our  surprise)  do  not 
find  in  the  New  Testament  the  Divinity  and  sacri- 
fice of  Christ,  yet  deduce  and  expect,  from  those  its 
promises,  the  saints'  immortal  happiness.  But  this 
doctrine  is,  in  my  apprehension,  a  collateral  and 
corroborative  proof  of  the  other.  If  creatures  so 
2  G 


338  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

rebellious,  defiled,  and  ungrateful  as  ourselves,  are 
to  expect  the  inestimable  gift  of  "life  eternal," 
must  not  this  be  the  result  oi  some  "  great  mystery 
of  godliness,"  some  moral  miracle  in  the  counsels 
and  acts  of  the  Supreme,  which  has  made  the  dona- 
tion compatible  with  His  attributes  and  sovereignty  ? 
Thus  does  the  promise  itself  prepare  us  for  the 
record  that  "  this  Life  is  in  his  Son,"  —  that  the 
"  unspeakable  gift  "  was  first  o/his  Son,  then  to  his 
Son  ;— of  Himybr  us,  of  us  to  Him. 

And  now,  after  thus  attempting  to  weigh  the 
credibility  of  the  promise, — nay,  I  presume  to  add, 
when  salvation,  by  a  Divine  Redeemer,  has  been 
once  admitted,  the  moral  necessity  of  this  vast  con- 
sequence,— seek  to  be  animated  and  consoled  anew 
by  these  "  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  Review 
the  feeble  thoughts  which  were  at  first  presented  ; 
or  rather  let  your  own  awakened  emotion  multiply 
and  vary  and  enhance  them.  Labour  to  know  more 
of  the  "  love  "  (and  of  the  "  life  ")  that  "  passeth 
knowledge."  Use  the  sounding  line  of  devout  and 
unrestrained  meditation,  that  you  may  more  and 
more  discover  the  depths  of  Christian  hope  to  be  in- 
deed unfathomable.  Ascend  the  holy  mount,  that 
you  may  gaze  abroad  upon  that  ocean  without 
boundary,  whose  waves  are  lost  in  the  sun-light  of 
*'  the  heaven  of  heavens."  As  you  contemplate 
thus  a  coming  eternity,  awfully  "at  hand"  yet 
boundlessly  afar, — your  spirit,  though  overwhelmed 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  339 

by  the  immensity,  may  be  also  enlarged.  It  may 
expand  and  be  calmed,  while  it  broods  on  that  glo- 
rious abyss  ; — till  you  shall  turn  back  to  the  cares 
and  sorrows  of  mortality,  as  a  voyager,  who  had 
been  long  on  the  Atlantic,  might  cross  the  stony 
track  and  troubled  stream  within  some  narrow- 
glen.  Remember  that  we  also  are  voyagers,  and 
must  soon  be  gone.  Whether  this  be  a  vale  of  few  or 
many  tears,  whether  the  scene  be  tranquil  and  bright, 
or  dark  and  tempestuous,  we  must  launch  away. 
Think  of  the  isles  and  mansions  of  that  eternal  deep, 
to  which  He  that  "  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light "  invites  and  guides  you ;  where  He  has 
prepared  an  abode,  perhaps  a  succession  of  abodes, 
each  more  sacred  and  happy  than  the  last,  in  ^vhich 
his  eternal  grace  and  your  eternal  joy  shall  be 
realized  !  It  is  not  here  so  much  my  object  to  urge 
the  claims  of  this  "  hope  laid  up  in  heaven  "  on 
our  zeal  and  active  vigilance,  as  those  which  it  pre- 
sents for  our  unrepining  submission.  Yet  can  the 
former  be  possibly  unfelt  or  undiscerned  ?  Can 
such  a  prospect,  believed  and  meditated,  fail  to 
awaken  in  our  inmost  souls  a  living  gratitude,  and 
insuppressible  desire?  Will  it  fail  to  divorce  us 
from  the  love  and  habit  of  sin,  and  make  us  more 
flexible  to  the  will  and  discipline  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour,  as  "  vessels  "  to  be  moulded  and  "  pre- 
pared "  by  his  "  sanctifying  "  hand  ?  *  Will  it  not 
*  2  Tim.  ii.  21. 

2  G  2 


340  PROMISE    OF  XIV. 

arouse  us  into  steadfast,  practical  solicitude  that  we 
may  know  and  "  do  his  pleasure  ?  "  And  shall 
it  not  constrain  us  to  endure  with  comparative 
cheerfulness,  or  at  least  without  a  spirit  of  murmur- 
ing, the  burdens  of  this  life  which  "  vanisheth 
away  ?  "  But,  oh  !  how  imperfect  are  these  influ- 
ences !  how  null  even  and  extinct,  as  to  sensible 
and  cheering  efficacy,  except  the  grace  and  provi- 
dence of  God  reanimate  and  strengthen  them  !  how 
marred  and  intercepted  by  clouds  of  unbelief  and 
earthliness,  or  of  care  and  despondency  ! — We  are 
forced  to  take  refuge, — not  I  trust  as  self-deceivers, 
but  as  those  who  earnestly  implore  ''  help  of  God," 
— in  the  oft-repeated  truth  that  "eternal  life "  is 
His  "free  gift,  through  Jesus  Christ;"  for  surely 
that  ruined,  feeble,  inconstant  man  should  earn 
it  or  should  win  it,  is  a  thought  which  only  ignor- 
ance and  arrogance  can  cherish.  Let  us  entreat  of 
Him,  whose  godlike  gift  it  is,  to  consecrate  our  un- 
worthy hearts  for  its  reception  ;  to  give  us  daily  far 
more  of  its  initial  bliss  in  a  true  assimilation  to 
His  image ;  to  make  those  streams  of  Heavenly 
life  more  quick  and  fervid  which  are  infused  from 
the  fountain  of  redeeming  love,  which  circulate 
through  the  mystic  body  of  our  Lord  below, —  and 
which,  when  these  poor  mortal  th robbings  falter  and 
are  stopped  in  death,  shall  flow  and  beat  for  ever 
as  the  countless  pulses  of  real  and  celestial  life, — 
never  to  be  suspended  till  that  "  Head  over  all  " 


XIV.  ETERNAL    LIFE.  341 

shall  droop, — never  to  stagnate  till  the  "  Fountain 
of  life  "  itself  run  low, — never  to  languish  till  the 
very  heart  of  Him  that  loved  and  ransomed  us 
be  cold  :  assuredly  eternal  therefore  ;  surviving  all 
things  finite,  still  fresh  as  His  own  sympathy  and 
undeclining  as  His  Power. 


2  G  3 


NOTES, 


Note  A. 

"  For  man  not  to  he  horn  is  far  the  hest ;  and  the  next  best,  as  soon 
as  j)ossihle  to  die.'' — Page  1. 

The  same  sentiment,  in  nearly  the  same  language,  occurs  in 
a  well-known  passage  of  Sophocles,  (Ed.  Colon.  1.  1225. 

"  Not  to  be  born,  all  destinies  excels  ; 

But  if  born,  then  by  earliest  doom  to  go 

"Whence  we  have  come,  the  next  and  second  good." 

A  friend,  conversant  in  classical  literature,  regards  the  passage 
in  Cicero  as  a  translation  from  that  of  the  poet ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  more  probable,  that  both  derived  it  from  some  common 
source ;  particularly  as  Cicero  not  only  says  nothing  of  Sophocles, 
(whereas  he  quotes  like  sentiments  from  Euripides,  Crantor,  and 
Ennius,  severally  by  name,)  but  refers  to  the  saying  above 
quoted,  "  Non  nasci,"  etc.,  as  contained  in  a  story  respecting  Si- 
lenus  and  Midas. 

Dr.  Elmsley,  in  his  Annotation  on  that  passage  of  the  (Edipus, 
cites  a  very  similar  one  from  Theognis,  which  may  be  rendered 
thus :  "  Not  to  be  born  is  for  mortals  of  all  things  the  best,  and 
never  to  gaze  on  the  sun's  swift  beams :  —  but  being  born,  to 


344  NOTE    A. 

pass  as  soon  as  possible  the  gates  of  Hades,  and  lie  beneath  an 
ample  heap  of  earth." — (Sentent.  1.  425.) 

Adding,  therefore,  the  passages  of  Sophocles  and  Theognis, 
which  Cicero  does  not  mention,  to  the  several  others  which  he 
refers  to  or  cites,  I  think  we  may  view  this  melancholy  sentiment 
as  frequent  and  almost  proverbial  among  heathens.  Pliny  has 
referred  to  it  as  a  prevalent  opinion  : — "  Multi  extitere  qui  non 
nasci  optimum  censuerunt,  aut  quam  citissime  aboleri." — "  There 
have  been  many,  who  have  judged  it  the  best  thing  not  to  be 
born,  or  to  be  annihilated  as  soon  as  possible." — Plin.  in  Prsefat. 
1.  7.,  quoted  in  Tooke's  Pantheon,  Art.  Silenus.  Nor  was  it  con- 
fined to  the  polished  and  the  poetic,  or  even  to  the  civilized. 
Valerius  Maximus  remarks,  "  That  tribe  of  Thracians  deserved 
the  praise  of  wisdom,  who,  by  celebrating  the  birth  of  man  with 
tears,  and  his  obsequies  with  merriment,  show  that  they  have 
discerned  the  true  character  of  our  condition."     L.  2.  c.  6.  §  12. 

And  Herodotus  (from  whom  possibly  the  Roman  derived  that 
information)  writes  of  the  Trausians,  a  Thracian  people,  that 
they  are  "  peculiar  in  their  behaviour  at  births  and  deaths. 
When  a  child  is  born,  the  nearest  relatives  sit  in  a  circle  around 
the  babe,  and  bewail  the  evils  which,  in  consequence  of  birth,  it 
must  endure  ;  recounting  all  human  sufferings  ;  but  the  deceased 
they  inter  with  sport  and  rejoicing,  proclaiming  that  he  is  in  all 
happiness  (or  good  fortune)  by  being  liberated  from  so  many  ills.'' 
(Terpsic.  §.1.)  Nor  are  we  to  understand  the  historian  as  here 
intimating,  that  these  Trausians  had  any  fixed  expectation  what- 
ever of  a  life  to  come  ;  by  entrance  on  which  the  deceased  might 
be  said  to  be  in  happiness.  The  happiness  or  good  fortune  must 
be  taken  to  consist  in  a  mere  negation,  or  cessation  of  the  ills  of 
this  mortal  life ;  inasmuch  as  he  had  just  before  mentioned  an- 
other tribe,  the  Getae,  who  expect  immortality  (oi  aOavaTiKscn), 
and  from  whom  he  distinguishes  the  Trausians.  He  had  pre- 
viously explained  the  doctrine  of  those  Get©  not  to  mean  a  pre- 
tension to  earthbj  immortality,  but  an  expectation  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul.  (Melpom.  §.  6.)    Had  the  Trausians  held  this 


NOTE    B.  345 

tenet  in  common  with  them,  it  would  have  been  directly  to  his 
purpose  to  name  it ;  and  therefore  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  they 
rejoiced  in  death  as  a  negative  good ;  having  no  expectation  of 
positive  good  to  follow  it.  —  May  not  this  opinion  concerning 
birth  and  life  as  a  calamity,  which  seems  to  have  so  much  and 
so  naturally  prevailed  among  heathens,  have  formed  in  all  ages 
one  motive  and  one  excuse  for  the  widely-spread  practice  of 
infanticide  ? 


Note  B. 


"  Other  writers  have  dwelt  on  the  illustration  of  the  Divine  per- 
fections by  the  Atonement"  etc. — Page  15, 

The  following  is  part  of  a  passage  dictated  by  Dr.  Johnson 
to  Mr.  Boswell.  * 

"  "Whatever  difficulty  there  may  be  in  the  conception  of  vica- 
rious punishments,  it  is  an  opinion  which  has  had  possession  of 
mankind  in  all  ages.  There  is  no  nation  that  has  not  used  the 
practice  of  sacrifices. 

"  Whoever  therefore  denies  the  propriety  of  vicarious  punish- 
ments, holds  an  opinion  which  the  sentiments  and  practice  of 
mankind  have  contradicted  from  the  beginning  of  the  world. 
The  great  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  mankind  was  ofiered  at  the 
death  of  the  Messiah,  who  is  called  in  Scripture  the  Lamb  of 
God  that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 

"  To  judge  of  the  reasonableness  of  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
it  must  be  considered  as  necessary  to  the  government  of  the 
universe  that  God  should  make  known  his  perpetual  and  irre- 
concilable detestation  of  moral  evil.     He  might  indeed  punish, 

*  See  his  Life  of  Jolmson.     Edit.  Croker,  vol.  iv.  pp.  498,  499. 


346  NOTE    B. 

and  punish  only  the  offenders ;  but  as  the  end  of  punishment  is 
not  revenge  of  crimes  but  propagation  of  virtue,  it  was  more  be- 
coming the  Divine  clemency  to  find  another  manner  of  pro- 
ceeding, less  destructive  to  man,  and  at  least  equally  powerful 
to  promote  goodness.  The  end  of  punishment  is  to  reclaim  and 
warn.  That  punishment  will  both  reclaim  and  warn,  which 
shows  evidently  such  abhorrence  of  sin  in  God,  as  may  deter  us 
from  it,  or  strike  us  with  dread  of  vengeance  when  we  have 
committed  it.  This  is  effected  by  vicarious  punishment.  No- 
thing could  more  testify  the  opposition  between  the  nature  of 
God  and  moral  evil,  or  more  amply  display  his  justice,  to  men  and 
angels,  to  all  orders  and  successions  of  beings,  than  that  it  was 
necessary  for  the  highest  and  purest  nature,  even  for  Divinity 
itself,  to  pacify  the  demands  of  vengeance,  by  a  painful  death  ; 
of  which  the  natural  effect  will  be,  that  when  justice  is  appeased, 
there  is  a  proper  place  for  the  exercise  of  mercy." 

That  strong  and  pointed  reasoner,  Richard  Baxter,  had,  long 
before,  with  arguments  substantially  very  similar,  met  the  ob- 
jectors who  alleged — "  It  doth,  sapere  scenam,  sound  like  a  poetic 
fiction,  that  God  should  satisfy  his  own  justice,  and  Christ  should 
die  instead  of  our  being  condemned,  and  this  to  appease  the 

wrath  of  God,"  etc. He  answers,  "  Ignorance  is  the  great 

cause  of  unbelief. — If  the  word  satisfaction  offend  you,  use  only 
the  Scripture  words, — that  Christ  was  a  '  sacrifice ;'  '  atonement ; ' 
'  propitiation ; '  '  price ; '  etc.  If  this  be  incredible,  how  came  it 
to  pass  that  sacrificing  was  the  custom  of  all  the  world  ?  God 
hath  no  passion  of  anger  to  be  appeased,  nor  is  he  at  all  de- 
lighted in  the  sufferings  of  the  worst ;  much  less  of  the  innocent : 
nor  is  his  satisfaction  any  reparation  of  a  loss  of  his.  But,  do  you 
understand  what  government  is :  and  what  Divine  Government 
is,  and  what  is  the  end  of  it ;  even  the  pleasing  of  the  will  of 
God  in  the  demonstration  of  his  own  perfections  ?  If  so,  you 
will  know,  that  God's  penal  laws  might  not  be  broken  by  a  rebel 
world,  without  either  execution  of  them  according  to  their  true 
intent  and  meaning,  or  such  equivalent  demonstration  of  his 


NOTE    c.  347 

justice  as  might  vindicate  the  law  and  Lawgiver  from  contempt, 
and  attain  the  ends  of  government  as  much  as  if  sinners  had 
suffered  themselves ;  and  this  it  is  we  mean  by  a  Sacrifice  or 
Satisfaction.  Shall  God  be  a  governor  and  have  no  laws  ?  or 
laws  that  have  no  penalties,  or  are  never  meant  for  execution  ? 
Were  it  becoming  Him  to  let  the  world  sin  on  with  boldness, 
and  say — God  did  but  frighten  us  with  a  few  words,  which  he 
never  intended  to  fulfil  ?  —  or  should  he  have  condemned  the 
whole  world  according  to  their  desert  ?  If  none  of  all  this  be 
credible  to  you,  then  certainly  nothing  should  be  more  credible 
than  that  his  wisdom  hath  found  out  some  way  to  exercise  par- 
doning, saving  mercy,  without  any  injury  to  his  governing 
justice  and  truth ;  and  without  imboldening  transgressors  in 
their  sins  :  a  way  which  shall  fully  vindicate  his  government, 
and  yet  save  us  with  the  great  advantage  of  honour  to  his 
mercy,  and  in  the  fullest  demonstration  of  that  love  and  good- 
ness which  may  win  our  love.  And  where  will  you  find  this 
done  but  in  Jesus  Christ  alone  ?  " 

Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion,  pp.  406—408.  Edit.  1667. 
Abridged. 


Note  C. 


"  It  may,  however,  he  justly  doubted,  whether  the  first  dawn 

of  spiritual  sun-light  can  in  any  case  be  by  man  so  ascertained." — 
Page  50. 

"  all  this  has  been  my  o^vn  impulse  and  my  own  work,  and 

not  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit." — Page  146. 


It  will  not  be  supposed  that  I  am  ignorant  or  unmindful  of 
the  distinction  made  by  divines,  and  very  formally  by  the  old 
divines,  between  "common  "and  "special"  grace.     But  this 


348  NOTE    c. 

distinction  is  not  the  less  real,  if,  like  twilight  and  daylight,  dawn 
and  noon-day,  the  difference  be  purely  of  degree.  Such  indeed 
appears  to  be  the  accepted  theological  view  of  it.  Since  writing 
the  passages  to  which  this  note  refers,  I  have  met  with  the  fol- 
lowing "  definition  "  of  "  special  grace ; " — "  The  communication 
of  grace  to  any  soul  in  such  a  degree,  as  actually  to  bring  that 
soul  to  faith  in  Christ  and  consequently  into  a  state  of  salvation, 
may  properly  be  called  Special  Grace;"* — and  with  the 
subjoined  valuable  passage  in  the  posthumous  Sermons  of  John 
Howe ;  which  appears  to  me  to  confirm,  in  a  manner  alike 
sound  and  forcible,  the  encouragements  it  is  attempted  in  the 
above  pieces  to  convey,  and  indeed  in  some  points,  both  as  to 
the  turn  of  thought  and  expression,  remarkably  coincides  with 
them. 

"  There  are  some  previous  essays  tending  to  life  that 

you  are  under  the  present  seizure  of,  even  now,  while  you  are 
looking  God-ward ;  it  is  somewhat  of  life,  or  of  preparatory 
workings  that  have  that  tendency  and  that  cognation,  which 
have  taken  hold  of  you ;  because  it  is  plain  such  thoughts  are 
internal,  and  are  the  springs  of  an  internal  motion ;  and  there 
is  no  internal  motion  v/hich  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  kind 
of  vital  motion :  though  it  is  true,  indeed,  there  are  fainter  be- 
ginnings that  are  extinguishable,  yet  there  is  a  great  matter  to 
have  some  beginnings  ;  for  if  they  are  yet  such  as  are  extin- 
guishable, they  are  yet  also  such  as  are  improvable,  and  may 
rise  and  come  higher,  till  they  come  beyond  the  sphere  and 
verge  of  common  grace,  into  the  verge  of  special  grace,  which 
two  spheres  do  very  closely  border  and  touch  upon  one 
another;  and  he  that  is  upon  the  extremity,  the  extreme  verge 
(as  I  may  speak)  of  common  grace,  is  often  upon  the  very  verge 
and  brink  of  special  grace.  And,  as  you  are  in  the  way  of  God, 
a  way  that  hath  a  good  look  and  tendency,  God  is  in  the  vray 
with  you. —  You  are  to  impute  it  to  his  being  with  you,  that 

*  Doddr.  Lect.  vol.  ii.  248,  Def.  Ixxxiv. 


NOTE    D.  349 

there  are  inclinations  and  dispositions  that  tend  heaven-ward, 
that  tend  towards  that  good  and  blessed  state.  You  are  to 
take  heed  of  arrogating  anything  in  this  kind  to  yourselves. 
Suppose  it  be  yet  but  common  grace; — common  grace  is  grace  ; 
and  if  it  be  grace,  it  is  not  nature  ;  it  is  not  to  be  attributed  to  you, 
— you  are  not  to  arrogate  and  claim  it  to  yourselves ; — This  is  of 
me.  The  thinking  of  a  good  thought,  we  have  not  a  sufficiency 
for,  as  of  ourselves ;  we  are  not  to  claim  that ;  and  there  is 
many  a  good  thought  that  may  be  short  of  saving  grace  ;  but 
we  should  take  heed  of  assuming  it  to  ourselves  ;  and  therefore 
if  there.be  inclinations  and  dispositions  towards  that  way,  and 
towards  that  state  which  you  are  to  design  for,  and  are  profess- 
edly bending  your  thoughts  towards,  yet  say,  you  have  a  Divine 
presence  with  you  :  for  these  things  are  to  be  ascribed  to  Him. 
All  such  previous  workings  and  dispositions,  you  must  say,  they 
do  all  lay  claim  to  a  Divine  Author  ;  such  a  wretch  as  I  must  lay 
claim  to  nothing  that  hath  any  the  least  appearance  of  good 
in  it."  * 

These  statements  may  be  most  strictly  applied  to  the  "  worse 
and  less  hopeful  supposition  "  mentioned  p.  149,  above,  and 
therefore,  by  stronger  reason,  to  other  cases  of  a  dubious 
character. 


Note  D. 

"  would  have  in  them  a  generous  self-sacrificing  quality,  not 

apparent  in  any  revealed  act,  nor,  I  think,  conceivable  by  us  (that  is, 
as  a  truth,  if  redemption  by  a  Divine  Saviour  were  not  a  truth) 
in  any  unrevealed  act  of  the  Creator." — Page  67. 

"  nothing  analogous  would  be  known  to  exist,  or  known 

*  Howe's  Works — Edit.  Hunt,  1827,  vol.  viii.  p.  189,  abridged. 
2  H 


350  NOTE    D. 

even  to  be  possible,  in  the  acts  or  counsels  of  the  Perfect  Being." 

Page  68. 

"  as  far  as  we  can  imagine,  its  only  possible  exemplifica- 
tion to  man by  a  veritably  peerless  and  godlike  model." — 

Page  69. 

Although  the  reasonings  in  which  these  passages  occur,  ap- 
prove themselves  to  my  mind,  yet  (as  Dr.  Pye  Smith  has  ex- 
pressed himself  in  a  disquisition  on  the  Trinity)—"  I  feel  the 
awful  ground  on  which  I  have  advanced  ; "  and  shall  be  prompt 
to  retract  or  modify  these  views,  if  any  fallacy  or  dangerous 
consequence  shall  discover  itself  as  involved  in  them. 

Since  these  sheets  were  first  printed,  I  have  seen  a  work,  not 
previously  known  to  me,  but  apparently  valuable  to  the  inter- 
ests of  religion,  in  which  the  statement  of  some  "  systems  of 
divinity  "  and  of  "  certain  preachers  " — "  that  there  never  was, 
and  never  will  be,  through  all  the  ages  of  eternity,  so  wonderful 
a  display  of  the  Divine  glory  as  in  the  cross  of  Christ,"  * — is 
censured,  and  I  think  with  reason,  as  "  a  presumptuous  as- 
sumption."— Yet  it  is  not  impossible  that  some  of  the  above 
phrases,  or  others  in  the  passages  from  which  they  are  taken, 
may  be  misconceived  to  intimate  that  very  "  assumption."  The 
expression  "  a  veritably  peerless  model "  —  will  scarcely  be  so 
understood,  when  the  limitation  "  to  wiaw,"  in  the  preceding 
sentence,  is  noticed. 

As  to  some  other  expressions  above  cited,  although  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  display  of  Divine  attributes  so  wonderful  and 
glorious,  would  have  been  "  conceivable  by  us  "  as  real,  "  or 
known  even  to  be  possible,"  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  and 
history  of  man's  redemption, — yet  might  unnumbered  such  dis- 
plays (similar,  or  entirely  ofe^similar,  but  of  equal  or  even  supe- 
rior extent  and  efficacy)  have  nevertheless  taken  place,  or  be  as 
yet  to  come,  in  the  immense  dominions  and  endless  reign  of 
Him  who  is  "  Love."  A  very  singular  theory, — arguing  the  actual 

*  Dick's  Christian  Pliilosopher,  p.  503,  and  p.  532. 


NOTE    D.  351 

occurrence  of  similar  redemptions  in  all  other  worlds, —  was 
communicated  by  a  nobleman,  (characterized  as  of  *«  great 
learning,  taste,  and  judgment,")  to  Dr.  Olinthus  Gregory,  and 
inserted  by  him  —  though  not,  it  seems,  with  unqualified  ap- 
proval—in his  "  Letters  on  the  Christian  Religion."  *  I  cannot 
accede  to  that  theory,  (unless  there  were  scriptural  evidence  to 
confirm  it,)  because,  besides  a  diff'erent  objection  to  which  it 
may  be  liable,  it  would  imply  an  extent  of  moral  evil  in  the  uni- 
verse which  I  feel  that  we  have  no  right  to  assume,  and  much 
reason  to  recoil  from. 

Nevertheless  there  is  nothing  in  the  above  reasonings  which 
would  be  at  variance  with  it. 

That  the  true  and  perfect  Divinity  should  "  assume  a  passible 
nature,"  and  be  thus  "  in  purpose  and  act,  the  prototype  of  suf- 
fering virtue,"  f  would  not,  I  apprehend,  (as  has  been  already 
stated  in  diff'erent  terms,)  have  even  been  conceived  by  us  as  a 
credible  fact,  in  reference  either  to  our  own  or  any  other  race,  an- 
tecedently to  the  promulgation  of  the  gospel ;  but  now,  having 
once  attained  the  conception  and  belief  of  such  a  fact,  we  can 
never  be  in  the  least  entitled  to  conclude  that  wonderful  Divine 
interpositions  of  *'  generosity  and  heroic  love "  cannot  have 
taken  place  on  behalf  of  other  beings ;  nor  even  to  affirm  that 
this  is  improbable. 

*  Vol.  i.  pp.  304 — 309. — This  nobleman  (we  learn  from  a  sub- 
sequent edition  of  Dr.  G.'s  work)  was  the  late  Earl  of  Carysfort. 
t  Page  70,  above. 


2  H  2 


Note  E. 


."  that  in  all  virtuous  suffering,  active  aiid  passive,  they  In 


reality  have  achieved  and  endured  what  Deity  carinot  in  any 
conceivably  achieve  or  endure." — Page  69. 

A  CRITIQUE  in  the  "  Presbyterian  Review,"  which,  by  its  fa- 
vourable estimation  of  this  volume,  has  truly  afforded  "  Chris- 
tian Encouragement "  to  myself,  (the  more  as  I  know  not  even 
the  name  of  the  writer  or  editor,)  and  to  which  I  gladly  thus 
express  myself  obliged, — has  offered  the  following  stricture  on 
the  above  cited  passage  ;  which  I  have  felt  to  be  well  worthy  of 
attention. 

"  It  seems  to  us,  that  his  desire  to  strengthen  a  favourite  pre- 
sumption, has  here  led  Mr.  Sheppard  to  press  his  argument  too 
far.  Had  it  been  stated  that  the  work  of  redemption  has  given 
the  proof  and  the  example  of  a  virtue  resident  in  Deity,  which 
had  otherwise  been  left  undiscovered,  we  should  have  admitted 
the  strength  of  a  presumption  founded  on  such  a  consideration ; 
but  when  the  general  truth  seems  to  be  implied,  that  every 
human  virtue  must  have  its  prototype  in  the  Divine  character, 
and  that  every  representation  of  Deity,  which  does  not  exem- 
plify this  throughout,  must  necessarily  be  incomplete,  we  cannot 
go  in  with  the  reasoning.  There  is  at  lec^st  one  act  of  human 
virtue,  which  can  have  no  archetype  in  him,  in  whom  is  no  sin, 
— the  struggle  with,  and  victory  over  inward  corruption  ; — and 
one  such  instance  proves  the  general  principle  to  be  incorrect." 
I  am  not  convinced,  that  the  instance  adduced  by  the  acute  and 
Christian  reviewer,  " proves  that  principle  to  be  incorrect"  which 
I  designed  to  advance.  No  virtue,  (whether  "  human  "  or  of 
other  fallen  beings,)  which  results  from  sin  or  sinfulness  exist- 
ing in  the  agent,  can  "  have  its  prototype  in  the  Divine  charac- 


NOTE    E.  353 

ter ;"  because  it  is  an  act  occasioned  by,  or  springing  from,  in- 
herent and  personal  moral  evil ;  and  the  creature  who  exercises 
it,  would  have  been  infinitely  more  like  God,  if  he  had  never 
come  into  the  state  where  he  could  exercise  it ;  and  will  be 
"  like  Him,"  entirely,  only  when  he  shall  be  no  more  able  to 
exercise  it.  But  "  virtuous  suffering "  in  the  cases  supposed, 
does  not  imply  sin  or  sinfulness  as  necessary  to  its  existence  ; 
though  exercised  by  depraved  parties,  and  the  piore  wonderful 
on  that  ground. 

We  might  put  (or  suppose)  an  unfallen  angel  in  the  place  of 
Pylades  or  Socrates,  and  then  our  argument  would  stand  thus, 
— that  it  were  strange,  a  creature,  although  sinless  and  exalted, 
could  achieve  and  endure  what  Deity  could  not  in  any  sense 
conceivably  achieve  or  endure,  or  what  (in  other  words)  would 
appear,  (before  the  revelation  of  '•  God  in  Christ,")  according 
to  philosophic  notions  of  Deity,  to  be  in  no  sense  or  manner 
"  possible  with  God."  Suffering,  it  is  true,  whether  it  were  the 
virtuous  suffering  of  Adam  if  he  had  not  fallen,  or  of  Gabriel 
who  has  not  fallen,  or  the  sinless  suffering  of  an  insect  which 
cannot  fall, — implies  imperfection ;  but  it  does  not  imply  sinful- 
ness, nor  in  the  last  case  even  peccability;  and  to  say,  that, 
except  by  assuming  the  mere  physical  imperfection  of  a  pass- 
ible nature,  the  Deity  could  not  (as  far  as  we  can  conceive) 
exercise  some  virtues  which  sinless  creatures  can,  appears  to 
me  to  involve  no  general  principle  that  is  incorrect  or  dan- 
gerous. 

We  have  considered  in  Essay  XI.  pp.  224 — 227,  how  such 
sinless  suffering  formed  "  a  crowning  constituent "  and  exhi- 
bition of  moral  perfectness  in  the  Son  of  God. 

It  is,  however,  freely  confessed,  that  the  statement  in  question 
was  not  originally  made  without  some  hesitation,  and  if  on 
further  research  or  argument  it  be  shown  to  be  strained,  I  should 
at  once  feel  it  a  duty  to  rescind  the  passage. 

2  H  3 


Note  F. 


Extracts  from  the  conclusions  of  some  writers  on  prophecy, 
more  particularly  as  to  the  fulfilment  of  predictions  relative 
to  the  corruptions  of  Christianity. 

'•'■  which  show  the  impression  on  tlieir  minds  resulting  from 

such  an  examination." — Page  285,  note. 

Dr.  Hartley  gives,  in  a  summary  manner,  his  impression 
on  this  subject,  as  follows. 

"  The  fourth  branch  of  the  prophetical  evidences  are  those 
which  relate  to  the  Christian  church.  Here  the  three  following 
particulars  deserve  attentive  consideration  : 

"  First, — The  predictions  concerning  a  new  and  pure  religion, 
which  was  to  be  set  up  by  the  coming  of  the  promised  Messiah. 

"  Secondly, — A  great  and  general  corruption  of  this  religion 
which  was  to  follow  in  after  times. 

"  Thirdly, — The  recovery  of  the  Christian  Church  from  this 
corruption,  by  great  tribulations ;  and  the  final  establishment  of 
true  and  pure  religion. 

"  The  predictions  of  the  first  and  third  kinds  abound  every- 
where in  the  old  prophets,  in  the  discourses  of  Christ,  and  in  the 
writings  of  the  Apostles. 

"  Those  of  the  second  kind  are  chiefly  remarkable  in  Daniel, 
the  Revelation,  and  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  St.  Peter,  St.  John, 
and  St.  Jude.  In  how  surprising  a  manner  the  events  of  the 
first  and  second  kind  have  answered  to  the  predictions,  cannot 
be  unknown  to  any  inquisitive  serious  person,  in  any  Chris- 
tian country.     At  the  same  time  it  is  evident,  that  the  pre- 


NOTE    F.  355 

dictions  of  these  things  could  have  no  foundation  in  probable 
conjectures  when  they  were  given.  The  events  of  the  third  class 
have  not  yet  received  their  accomplishment ;  but  there  have 
been,  for  some  centuries  past,  and  are  still,  perpetual  advances 
and  preparations  made  for  them."  —  David  Hartley,  Works, 
vol.  ii.  p.  161. 

The  learned  and  lamented  author  of  "  Discourses  on  Pro- 
phecy," delivered  of  late  years  in  the  Lecture  of  Bishop  War- 
burton,  thus  comments  on  St.  Paul's  prophecies  in  2  Thess.  ii. 
3—10,  and  1  Tim.  iv.  1—4. 

"  In  the  predictions  of  the  corrupted  state  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith  which  we  are  now  considering,  there  are  definite 
signs  of  a  foreknowledge  very  different  from  the  deductions  of 
probability,  calculated  on  the  general  principles  of  human  weak- 
ness or  human  depravity.  The  prophetic  criteria  are  precise ; 
and  they  are  such  as  must  be  thought  to  have  militated  with  all 
rational  probability,  rather  than  to  have  been  deduced  from  it." 
— Davison,  Discourses,  p.  479. 

And  the  same  writer  thus  sums  up  his  review  of  the  parallel 
predictions  in  the  Apocalypse  :  "  The  complexity  of  things  in 
this  single  piece  of  prophecy  is  sufficiently  manifest.  And  since 
the  complex  whole  has,  point  by  point,  been  fulfilled,  and  that 
not  in  an  obscure  corner,  but  in  the  heart  of  Christendom,  and 
in  the  most  conspicuous  station  of  the  Christian  world,  the  in- 
ference from  that  completion  is  not  to  be  evaded."  —  Ibid.  pp. 
481,  482. 

A  modern  writer  of  great  research  (the  Rev.  C.  Forster)  re- 
marks, "  Daniel  has  clearly  foreshown  the  appointed  fate  of  the 
Jewish  polity  and  people.  He  has  also  unquestionably  foretold 
the  fortunes  of  the  western  church  :  and  has  drawn  a  full  and 
exact  portraiture  of  the  spiritual  tyranny,  which  should  arise 
and  prevail  in  that  portion  of  Christendom.  This  being  the 
case,  the  analogy  of  Providence  and  that  of  Scripture  would 


356  NOTE    F. 

seem  alike  to  require  a  corresponding  prophetic  attention  to  the 
parallel  events  which  were  to  occur  in  the  eastern  portion."  * 
He  then  proceeds  to  show  at  large  that  the  eighth  chapter  of 
Daniel  is  distinctly  predictive  of  Mohammedanism. 

In  the  subsequent  section  of  his  work,  the  same  author  gives, 
with  his  own  views,  those  of  some  others,  concerning  the  pre- 
dictions of  the  "  eastern  horn,"  or  Mohammedan  Antichrist,  as 
contained  both  in  the  book  of  Daniel  and  the  Revelation  of 
St.  John. 

"We  proceed"  (he  writes)  "to  connect  those  remarkable 
prophecies  of  the  book  of  Daniel,  which  have  been  applied  to 
Mohammed  and  his  followers  in  the  preceding  section,  with  the 
strictly  parallel  and  still  ampler  predictions,  delivered  concern- 
ing them  in  the  Apocalypse  of  St.  John.  *  In  the  prediction  of 
Daniel,'  observes  a  learned  writer  of  our  own  times, f  '  Moham- 
medanism alone  is  spoken  of ;  its  two  principal  supporters,  the 
Saracens  and  the  Turks,  are  not  discriminated  from  each  other : 
a  general  history  of  the  superstition,  from  its  commencement 
to  its  termination,  is  given,  without  descending  to  particularize 
the  nations  by  which  it  should  be  successively  patronized.  In 
the  Revelation  of  St.  John  this  deficiency  is  supplied :  and  we 
are  furnished  with  two  distinct  and  accurate  paintings,  both  of 
the  Saracenic  locusts  under  their  exterminating  leader,  and  of 
the  Euphratean  horsemen,  of  the  four  Turkish  Sultanies.' 

"  With  one  slight  correction,  this  statement  may  be  received 
as  a  just  representation  of  the  case.  Daniel,  we  have  seen,  had 
already  described  the  two  distinct  powers  in  question,  under 
the  titles  of '  the  King  of  the  South  '  and  *  the  King  of  the 
North.'!      But  his   descriptions  want  characteristic  national 

*  Mahom.  Unveiled,  vol.  i.  Sect.  2.  p.  167.  f  Faber. 

X  "  Dan.  xi.  40,  contains  a  well-known  prophecy,  received  by  in- 
terpreters, with  one  consent,  as  a  joint  prediction  of  the  Saracenic 
and  Turkish  empires,  under  the  titles  of  the  King  of  the  South  and 
the  King  of  the  North."~Ibid.  p.  193. 


NOTE    F.  357 

traits,  to  bring  them  home  to  the  Saracens  and  Turks ;  which 
traits,  as  might  be  reasonably  expected  in  a  revelation  so  much 
nearer  to  the  event,  the  ninth  chapter  of  the  Apocalypse  ap- 
pears to  embody  in  its  symbols.  Intei-preters  are  justly  struck 
with  the  historical  exactness  of  these  delineations :  but  none 
have  done  the  subject  more  justice,  in  the  expression  of  their 
admiration,  than  the  late  learned  and  exemplary  Dr.  Zouch. 
— '  The  prophetic  truths  comprised  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  the 
Apocalypse  are  of  themselves  sufficient  to  stamp  the  mark  of 
Divinity  upon  that  work.  When  I  compare  them  with  the  page 
of  history,  I  am  filled  with  amazement.  The  Saracens,  a  peo- 
ple which  did  not  exist  in  the  time  of  St.  John,  and  the  Turks, 
a  nation  then  utterly  unknown,  are  there  described  in  language 
the  most  appropriate  and  distinct.'"* 

I  have  selected  this  passage,  as  conveying,  in  a  small  compass, 
the  general  impression  made  on  three  able  inquirers  by  the  cor- 
respondence of  the  modern  events  referred  to  with  those  ancient 
writings. — To  theirs  may  be  added  that  of  the  Rev.  A.  Keith, 
(given  in  his  Signs  of  the  Times,)  who  has  elaborately  examined 
these  prophecies  of  Daniel  and  St,  John  ;  and  remarkably  illus- 
trated their  fulfilment  by  the  statements  of  Gibbon,  Saadeddin, 
etc.,  availing  himself  (as  he  had  excellently  done  in  his  former 
work  on  prophecy)  of  the  unconscious  aid  of  enemies  to  our 
faith.  The  detail  of  his  facts  and  arguments,  (in  which  theii- 
strength  greatly  consists,)  cannot  be  exhibited  in  an  abridged 
form-  I  only  cite  a  few  passages  which  give  some  view  of  their 
outline. —  "The  interpretation  given  by  Daniel,  (viii.  21,)  in 
literal  terms,  of  the  vision  of  the  little  horn  of  the  he-goat, 
is  an  exact  representation  of  the  rise,  nature,  and  history  of  Mo- 
hammedanism. The  vision  was  to  be  at  the  time  of  the  end. 
And  at  the  time  of  the  end,  in  the  things,  not  visions,  noted  in 
the  Scripture  of  truth,  the  forms  under  which  Mohammedanism 
actually  appeared,  or  the  two  great  successive  governments  by 

*  Maliom.  Unveiled,  vol.  i.  pp.  210 — 212, 


>358  NOTE    F. 

which  it  prospered,  practised,  and  prevailed,  and  with  which  it 
has  ever  been  identified,  are  introduced  and  delineated ;  and  the 
kingdom  of  the  Saracens,  and  more  circumstantially,  of  the 
Turks,  under  the  names  of  the  king  of  the  south,  and  the  king 
of  the  north,  are  described  with  all  the  accuracy  of  actual  his- 
tory. Mohammedanism  is  thus,  in  the^r*^  instance,  described, 
so  to  speak,  by  itself,  or  without  any  express  specification,  of  the 
Saracenic  and  Turkish  powers.  These,  in  regard  to  Moham- 
medanism, had  both  one  character  and  object,  and  needed  only 
in  that  respect  to  be  united  into  one  view.  But  in  regard  to 
their  history,  in  a  political  sense,  as  distinct  empires,  varying  as 
to  the  period  and  place  of  their  origin,  and  the  mode  or  degree 
in  which  they  respectively  executed  the  same  work,  they  did 
admit  of  and  received  a  separate  illustration. 

"  After  the  same  pattern  and  parallel,  in  which  Daniel  thus 
first  portrayed  Mohammedanism  in  one  vision,  and  afterwards 
in  another  the  empires  of  the  Saracens,  and  of  the  Turks,— John 
in  the  Apocalypse  represents  them  anew.  In  the  different  forms 
of  religion,  Mohammedanism  appears,  symbolically  indeed,  but 
undisguisedly,  in  its  genuine  character." — •'  It  was  a  red  horse 
which  symbolized  the  faith  of  the  warrior-prophet,  or  on  which 
he  and  the  kings  who  subsequently  represented  him  did  sit : 
and  to  him  was  given  a  great  sword.  It  was  his  character  and 
office  to  take  peace  from  the  earth.  Such  of  itself  was  Moham- 
medanism. But  the  hands  in  which  the  sword  was  successively 
put,  were  different.  And  while  each,  who  was  to  hold  it,  was  to 
be  the  defender,  propagator,  or  chief  of  the  Mohammedan  faith, 
— the  former  distinction  is  renewed  and  further  developed  ;  and 
the  king  of  the  south  and  of  the  north  are  represented  under 
their  appropriate  characters  of  the  first  and  second  woe.  Mo- 
hammedanism arose  at  the  time  of  the  end  when  the  transgress- 
ors had  come  to  the  full.  And  at  the  time  of  the  end,  the  Sara- 
cens, and  afterwards  the  Turks,  came  against  an  apostate  and 
idolatrous  church,  headed  by  the  pope,  who  magnified  himself 
above  all.     And  in  exact  keeping  with  their  character  and  com- 


NOTE    G.  359 

mission,  the  appropriate  designation  as  woes  has  its  best  illus- 
trations, both  from  the  previous  announcement  of  the  things  that 
they  were  to  do,  and  the  historical  retrospect  of  the  things  that 
they  have  done."  — Vol.  i.  pp.  320—322.  The  whole  of  this 
writer's  remarks  on  the  predictions  concerning  Mohammedanism 
and  their  fulfilment  (See  especially  chapters  iii.,  viii.,  xviii.,  and 
xix.,  vol.  i.)  are  highly  curious  and  important. 


Note  G. 


*'  Hereafter  shall  ye  see  the  Son  of  man  sitting  on  the  right  hand 
of  power,  and  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven.^' — Page  290,  291. 

Some  expositors  consider  this  declaration  of  our  Lord  to  the 
high  priest  to  refer  wholly  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  render- 
ing the  expression ctTr' aprt  ("hereafter")  "within  alittle  while." 
But  the  term  is  as  indefinite  as  "  hereafter."  It  more  strictly 
means  "  henceforth,"  and  so  taken,  would  be  inapplicable  to  an 
event  forty  years,  or  one  year,  or  at  all,  distant.  It  is  also  re- 
markable that  the  word  when  conjoined,  aTrapn,  may  signify 
"  certainly,"  "  fully."     See  Schleusn.  in  airdpTi. 

The  several  declarations  of  Christ  relative  to  his  "  coming  with 
clouds  and  in  his  glory,"  must,  it  appears  to  me,  ultimately  and 
chiefly  refer  to  his  yet  future  and  glorious  advent ;  though  some 
of  them  have  also  an  intermediate  and  figurative  allusion  to  his 
judicial  coming,  now  long  past,  to  destroy  the  guilty  Jerusalem 
and  scatter  the  impenitent  Jews. 

Commentators  have  properly  spoken  of  the  prophecy  of  "  the 
tribulation  of  those  days  "  as  mixed ;  inasmuch  as  different  terms 
of  it  (in  Matt,  xxiv.,  Mark  xiii.,  and  Luke  xxi.)  apply  respect- 
ively (literally)  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  to  the  "  end 


360  NOTE    G. 

of  the  world."  But  the  true  idea  of  that  prophecy  is  appre- 
hended by  no  writer  whose  observations  I  have  seen,  so  happily 
as  by  the  ingenious  Abbadie.  After  deducing  from  the  ob- 
scurity and  seeming  non-fulfilment  of  these  predictions,  a  strong 
argument  against  their  having  been  interpolated  into  the  gospel 
after  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem, — he  thus  proceeds — "  But 
do  we  not  escape  here  one  difficulty  by  a  greater  ?  For  if  all 
the  signs  which  were  to  attend  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  did  not 
really  occur,  where  is  the  truth  of  the  prophecy  ?  Some  reply, 
that  Jesus  Christ  here  expressed  himself  like  the  prophets,  who 
speak  of  God's  coming,  and  of  the  heaven  and  earth's  trembling, 
when  he  visits  man  with  any  extraordinary  dispensation  of  good- 
ness or  of  justice. 

"  They  add,  that  those  judgments  of  Christ  (on  the  Jews)  are 
described  as  an  advent,  and  a  striking  advent,  on  account  of  the 
dreadful  retribution  then  inflicted.  But  I  prefer  another  thought, 
in  my  view  more  reasonable  and  more  natural — which  is  this, 
that  our  Saviour  not  judging  it  a  proper  season  to  undeceive 
his  followers — who  from  natural  prepossession  imagined  that 
Jerusalem  and  the  temple  would  never  perish  but  with  the 
world,  —  entered  into  their  notion,  and  represented  these  two 
events  by  one  common  delineation. 

"  I  conceive  there  might  be  several  reasons  which  influenced 
him  to  do  thus.  For  besides  that  obscurity  is  the  characteristic 
of  prophecy,  and  that  this  behoved  to  be  mingled  with  shadows 
like  the  rest,  in  order  that  none  might  foreknow  the  time  of  its 
fulfilment — God  having  reserved  to  himself  that  knowledge,  as 
this  very  prophecy  declares — was  it  not  moreover  suitable  that 
Christ  should  follow  the  method  of  all  the  prophets,  —  that  of 
uniting  events  remotely  separate  in  one  prophetic  view,  indi- 
cating that  the  most  widely  distant  are  contiguous  in  the  eye  of 
Deity  ?  Besides  which,  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  being  the 
greatest  and  most  perfect  symbol  of  the  end  of  the  world,  what 
could  be  more  appropriate  than,  by  thus  adopting  the  views  of 
the  disciples,  who  conjoined  the  two  events,  to  give  us  a  vision 


NOTE    G.  361 

of  the  latter  through  the  medium  or  veil  of  ^the  former  ?  Pes- 
tilences, wars,  and  famines  preceded  the  one: — there  will  be 
like  preludes  to  the  other.  The  tribes  inhabiting  the  holy  land 
were  full  of  consternation  when  they  beheld  the  curse  of  Heaven 
fall  upon  them; — so  shall  be  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  when 
God  shall  destroy  or  devastate  it  in  the  great  day  of  his  appear- 
ing. The  ruin  of  Jerusalem  succeeded  the  preaching  of  the  gos- 
pel in  the  then  known  world :— the  end  of  the  world,  apparently, 
will  not  take  place  till  all  barbarous  and  then  unknown  nations 
shall  have  been  called  to  faith  in  Christ.  There  were  false 
prophets  and  Messiahs  before  that  desolation :— there  shall  be 
false  and  seducing  teachers,  saying,  Lo  here  is  Christ,  and  lo 
there,  before  the  final  day.  Jesus  Christ  gathered,  before  the  fall 
of  Jerusalem,  the  elect  from  the  four  winds  or  quarters  of  the 
earth,  into  Christian  churches,  and  this  by  the  preaching  of  his 
mystic  angels  (or  messengers)  the  apostles : — at  the  end  of  the 
world  he  shall  send  the  true  angels  or  messengers  of  his  glory 
to  call  his  elect  from  the  dust.*  Comets  and  terrific  meteors 
announced  that  city's  ruin ;  the  smoke  of  the  burning  metro- 
polis and  temple  obscured  the  sun  and  stars ; —  doubtless  the 
desolation  of  the  whole  earth  will  be  accompanied  by  appear- 
ances more  awful. f  The  destruction  of  the  Jews  was  rather 
sudden  and  unlooked  for : — the  last  day  will  come  as  a  thief  in 
the  night.  The  city  and  temple  were  destroyed  when  the  Jews 
had  filled  up  the  measure  of  their  sins : — this  world  of  ours  must 
perish  when  the  time  of  the  Gentiles  shall  be  fulfilled ;  as  Christ 
announces  in  the  prophecy  we  are  examining. 

"  It  appears  that  the  disciples  continued  impressed  with  the 
notion  of  which  we  spoke ;  for  when  a  report  arose  that  John 
would  not  die,  founded  on  Christ's  saying,  *  If  I  will  that  he  tarry 
till  I  come,  what  is  that  to  thee  ?  '  they  appear  thus  to  have  un- 
derstood the  coming  as  at  the  end  of  the  world,  because  they 
considered  that  event  simultaneous   with  the   destruction   of 

*  2  Tliess.  i.  7  ;  conf.  1  Thess.  iv.  16.  f  2  Peter  iii.  10. 

2  I 


362  NOTE    G. 

Jerusalem.     St.  Paul  afterwards  found  it  necessary  to  correct 
the  same  impression.* 

"  And  in  fact  we  cannot  wonder  if  this  prophecy  of  Christ, 
which  his  disciples  faithfully  recorded,  left  such  an  im.pression. 
For,  on  the  one  hand,  he  characterized  his  advent  in  such  terms 
that  it  seemed  it  should  be  followed  by  the  last  judgment;  and, 
on  the  other,  he  had  frequently  declared  that  all  these  things 
should  happen  "  in  that  generation  ;  "  and  that  some  who  were 
present  should  not  taste  of  death  till  they  had  seen  all  these 
things. — Uniting,  as  our  Saviour  did,  two  events  in  one  descrip- 
tion, but  two  events  of  which  the  one  was  subordinate  to  the 
other,  the  former  being  the  image  or  type,  the  latter  the  sub- 
stance ;  his  prophecy  consequently  was  to  have  two  accomplish- 
ments— one  near,  the  other  remote. 

"  This  appears  to  be  the  true  key  or  unravelling  of  all  those 
difficulties. — The  disciples  confounded  two  distinct  and  distant 
events — their  Master  thought  fit  to  leave  them  under  that  mis- 
taken preconception. —  It  is  always  fit  that  the  event  should 
verify  the  prophecy,  and  not  that  the  prophecy  should  obstruct 
the  event.  Prophecy  therefore  must  be  dark  before  its  fulfil- 
ment, but  luminous  afterwards." 

He  subjoins  this  important  remark :  "  Whether  my  views  or 
those  of  another  be  adopted  to  explain  some  difficulties  in  this 
prophecy,  is  immaterial.  I  lay  much  more  stress  on  two  truths 
which,  in  my  judgment,  are  clear.  One  is,  that  from  the  circum- 
stantial character  of  this  prophecy,  it  is  quite  absurd  to  regard 
it  as  composed  after  the  event ;  —  to  suppose  that  an  inventor 
would  take  occasion  from  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem,  where  only 
Titus  and  his  army  appeared,  to  make  Christ  declare  in  predict- 
ing that  event,  that  he  would  come  on  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and 
send  his  angels  to  gather  his  elect  from  the  four  winds,  that  his 
advent  would  be  glorious  and  like  the  lightning,  that  all  the 
tribes  of  the  earth  should  mourn,  etc. 

*  2  Thess.  ii.  2,  3. 


NOTE    G.  363 

"The  other  truth  is,  that  notwithstanding  some  shadows 
which  God  has  seen  fit  to  mingle  in  this  prophecy,  it  is  yet  ex- 
tremely exact.  "What,  in  efi"ect,  do  we  find  in  the  history,  which 
is  not  seen  before  in  the  prophecy  ?  "  * 

Some  acute  observations  follow  on  the  utter  improbability  of 
the  prophecy  being  an  interpolation. 

Bishop  Porteus  refers  to  Mr.  Erskine  (afterwards  Lord  Ers- 
kine)  as  having  publicly  declared  that  he  considered  this  pro- 
phecy, if  there  were  nothing  else  to  support  Christianity,  as  ab- 
solutely irresistible,  f 

The  subject  of  the  twofold  sense  of  prophecy,  or  of  what  I 
should  rather  term  its  nearer  and  farther  senses,  where  the 
nearer  fulfilment  is  allegoric  of  the  later  and  chief  sense,  is  ably 
and  elegantly  stated  in  Bishop  Lowth's  11th  prelection  on  He- 
brew poetry,  "  On  the  Mystic  Allegory,"  in  which  the  image 
first  presented  is  "  not "  (as  in  common  allegories  and  parables) 
*'  a  pictured  adumbration,  but  a  solid  and  express  effigy ;  and 
though  it  depicts  the  person  or  quality  of  another,  possesses  and 
retains  its  own." — "  Its  manner,"  (he  afterwards  adds,)  "  is  very 
various.  Sometimes  the  Near  image  so  appears  and  rules  that 
it  scarcely  lets  the  Remote  shine  through.  On  the  contrary, 
and  this  much  oftener,  the  Remote  shines  so  strongly  as  to  al- 
most extinguish  the  Near."  | 

*'  This  mystic  allegory,  by  its  very  obscurity,  so  accords  with 
the  prophetic  scheme,  that  it  affords  an  appropriate,  and,  as  it 
were,  the  legitimate  form,  by  which  future  events  may  be  most 
conveniently  foreshadowed." 

For  aught  that  appears.  Bishop  Lowth  had  not  in  his  mind, 
when  he  wrote  these  remarks,  our  Saviour's  prophecy  concern- 
ing Jerusalem  and  the  day  of  Judgment ;  but  they  serve  to 
corroborate  and  illustrate  the  scheme  of  Abbadie. 

Bishop  Porteus,  in  his  valuable  lectures  on  Matthew,  (Lect. 

*  Ver.  de  la  Rel.  Chret.  tom.  ii.  pp.  91—94,  95. 

t  In  his  speech  at  the  trial  of  Williams. 

X  Edit.  1753.  Oxonii.  pp.  97,  98. 

2  I  2 


364  NOTE    G. 

xix.  on  the  24th  chapter,)  suggests  a  somewhat  similar  view  of 
these  predictions.  He  observes, — "  In  the  prophetic  writings 
two  subjects  are  frequently  carried  on  together." — "  Our  Saviour 
seems  to  hold  out  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  which  is  his  prin- 
cipal [primary  ?]  subject,  as  a  type  of  the  dissolution  of  the  world, 
which  is  the  under  [ulterior  ?]  part  of  the  representation."  And 
again, — "  The  prophecy  itself  was  probably  intended  by  Jesus  as 
a  type  and  an  emblem  of  the  dissolution  of  the  world  itself." 

The  fitness  and  beauty  of  such  adumbration  or  typical  method 
of  prophecy  is  beautifully  illustrated  by  another  prelate,  under 
the  figure  of  a  "  robe."  None  but  the  symbolic  style  "  hoXh/old 
and  drapery  enough  to  invest  the  greater  subjects,  while  yet  it 
readily  adapts  itself  to  the  less  considerable,  Avhich  it  ennobles 
only,  and  not  disfigures."  * 

I  add  an  observation  which  is,  at  least,  curious,  on  the  two- 
fold meaning  of  certain  words  employed  in  the  prophecy  to 
which  this  note  relates.  A^rapri  which  has  been  already  noticed, 
(used  Matt.  xxvi.  64,)  may  mean  "  hereafter  "  or  "  ere  long  "  in 
reference  to  the  nearer  fulfilment,  and  "  certainly  "  in  reference 
to  the  later ;  according  as  it  is  read  in  a  divided  or  conjoined 
form.  So  ytviCL  (Matt.  xxiv.  34)  may  mean  "generation"— 
that  then  living, — as  to  the  former,  and  "  nation  "  or  "  people  " 
as  to  the  ulterior  sense.  Brennius,  Mede,  and  Sykes  maintain- 
ed that  our  Saviour's  words  bear  this  last  meaning :  t  "  This 
nation  shall  not  be  lost  or  cease  to  be  a  distinct  one  till  the 
judgment  day."  If  those  writers  held  that  to  be  our  Lord's 
sole  meaning,  I  cannot  concur  with  them :  but  it  may  neverthe- 
less have  been  his  secondary  and  larger  meaning.  Nor  is  Arch- 
bishop Tillotson's  objection  to  this  valid,  (Wks.  iii.  526,)  except 
as  against  the  exclusion  of  the  proximate  sense.  J     I  think  the 

*  Kurd's  Introd.  to  the  Study  of  the  Proph.  pp.  312, 313.  2d  Ed. 

t  See  Doddr.  in  loc. 

X  That  the  wordy£V£a  may  allow  the  wider  sense,  the  archbishop 
admits. — Our  Englisli  word  "  race  "  is  in  like  manner  applicable  in 
both  senses. 


NOTE    H.  365 

expression,  "  immediately  after  the  tribulation  of  those  days," 
(Matt.  xxiv.  29,)  by  which  some  are  perplexed,  may  be  like- 
wise viewed  as  having  both  a  nearer  sense  and  that  ampler  one 
which  Archbishop  Tillotson  assigns  to  it ;  i.  e.  the  continued 
tribulation  of  the  Jews  during  all  the  prophetic  days  of  their 
dispensation,  "immediately  after  the  end  of  which  perhaps" 
(according  to  the  large  measures  of  prophetic  language)  "  the 
forerunning  signs  of  the  end  of  the  world  may  ensue."  * 


Note  H. 


"  that  the  '  heaven  of  heavens,'  the  central  glory." — 

Page  296. 

Lavater,  in  a  passage  which  I  abridge  from  his  "  Aussichten 
in  die  Ewigkeit,"  ("  Prospects  into  Eternity,")  thus  refers  to  the 
"heaven  of  heavens." — "All  the  systems  of  worlds,  judging 
from  analogy,  have  probably  a  great  common  centre,  round 
which  they  revolve,  as  the  planets  round  our  sun.  This  centre 
of  the  immeasurable  universe  we  may  conceive  to  be  the  most 
perfect  scene  of  material  existence,  unspeakably  exceeding  in 
grandeur  and  beauty  anything  which  we  can  represent  to  our- 
selves in  this  our  dark  abode. 

"  This  central  world  may  be  deemed  the  '  heaven  of  heavens : ' 
the  region  where  the  Infinite  pours  forth  the  utmost  plenitude 
and  riches  of  his  majesty;  which  the  immortal  author  of  the 
Messias  has  thus  glanced  at,"t 

*  Tillotson's  Works,  iii.  526. 
t  Lavat.  Aussicht.  t.  i.  pp.  246,  247.  The  original  of  the  lines 
which  follow  (as  quoted  by  him)  will  be  found  in  Klopstock's  Mes- 
sias, Ges.  i.  11.  197  and  230.  My  version  is  attempted  in  his  own 
metre  ;  the  hexameter  ;  and  is  cited  from  the  whole  canto  so  render- 
ed :  see  London  Christian  Instructor,  1821,  pp.  248,  300,  361,  461. 
2  I  3 


366  NOTE    H. 

"No  faintly  glimmering  planet 
Nears  the  destroying  blaze  :  in  pale  obscurity,  far  off, 
Cloud -wrapt  nature  revolves  scarce  seen :  or  visible  only 
All  her  worlds  minute,  as  when,  by  a  wanderer's  footstep, 
Earth's  low  atoms,  the  haunt  of  worms,  are  scatter'd  in  sunshine. 

Round  from  that  central  heaven  a  thousand  avenues  radiate, 

Of  unseen  extent,  with  bordering  suns  environ'd. 

******** 

There,   'mid  encompassing  suns,  beams  forth  that  'heaven  of 

heavens  ; ' 
One  unmeasur'd  sphere ;  creation's  archetype  ;  treas'ring 
All  perceptible  beauty  ;  which  thence  in  fast-flowing  torrents 
Through  the  encircling  realms  of  wide  infinity  fluctuates." 

Cramer,  in  a  note  on  this  passage  of  the  Messiah,  observes  that 
"  Klopstock's  imaginations  were  always  consistent  with  astrono- 
mical possibility." 

A  speculation  of  astronomical  science  was,  probably,  in  this 
instance,  the  direct  source  of  his  and  of  Lavater's  views ;  for 
"  Dr.  Halley  conceived  the  whole  solar  system,  together  with 
all  the  systems  of  the  stars,  to  be  in  motion  round  some  point, 
which  is  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  whole."  * 

I  add,  on  the  subject  of  that  ''supposition"  with  which  the 
present  note  stands  connected,  that  since  motion,  and  rapid 
motion,  of  some  kind,  is  a  prevailing,  and  perhaps  (according 
to  Halley's  theory)  a  universal  law  of  celestial  bodies,  there  can 
be  at  least  nothing  contrary  to  analogy,  in  supposing  that 
a   nebulous  orb   (such  as  comets  are   observed   to  be)  f  may 

*  See  Bonnycastle's  Astronomy,  p.  308. 

t  "  The  nucleus  of  the  comet  is  usually  enveloped  in  a  dense  ne- 
bulous stratum."  In  many  of  them,  however,  the  nucleus  "  seems 
wanting,  and  they  present  only  a  nebulous  mass,  having  a  gradual 
condensation  towards  the  centre."  In  some  cases,  (as  in  the  second 
comet  of  1811,)  "the  whole  nucleus  presents  only  a  globular  mass 
of  nebulosity."  In  the  comet  of  1811  the  depth  of  this  "shining 
envelope  at  one  time  amounted   to  no  less  than   25,000   miles." 


NOTE    H.  367 

form  the  majestic  moving  abode,  or  vehicle,  of  Him  who 
"  Cometh  in  the  clouds  of  heaven,"  *— "  with  his  mighty  angels, 
in  flaming  fire,"  f — "  with  power  and  great  glory."  J  Such  a 
supposition  is  quite  consistent  with  the  belief  that  our  Lord  re- 
sumed, in  his  transfiguration  and  ascension,  and  will  in  his 
second  advent,  the  "  Glory  of  the  Lord  "— "  Glory  of  Jehovah  " 
—  or  Divine  Shechinah  :  (see  Exod,  xxiv.  16 ;  xl.  34,  35 :)— for 
the  "bright  cloud"  or  "cloud  of  light" — {vi(p£\r}  (pujTog,)  Matt, 
xvii.  5, — and  even  the  "  flaming  fire" — (h  Trvpi  <p\oy6g,)  2  Thess. 
i.  8, — are  to  be  regarded  as  only  the  vehicle  or  tabernacle  of 
that  Uncreated  Glory. 

Still  this  has  been  introduced,  (let  me  again  observe,)  as  a 
mere  supposition,  and  simply  with  a  view  to  meet  one  particular 
mode  of  unbelieving  sarcasm.  I  am  aware  it  may  be  said— You 
have  attached  an  arbitrary  meaning  to  the  ambiguous  word 
"  quickly,"  which  the  sarcasm  itself  would  not  convey  ;  as  if  it 
had  been  intimated— Your  Master  promised  you  to  come  quickly; 
that  is,  He  promised  a  rapid  though  progressive  approach  :— 
whereas,  in  fact,  it  was  only  meant  to  say — Your  Master  pro- 
mised to  come  noon  ;  (whether  instantanteously  or  gradually ;) 
but  the  interval  is  already  long. 

I  answer,— it  certainly  appears  to  me  most  likely,  that  the 
advent  of  our  Lord,  with  an  angelic  retinue,  will  be  not  instan- 
taneous but  progressive ;  however  rapid.  We  may  indeed  con- 
ceive of  a  miraculous  transit,  even  of  created  and  embodied 
agents,  instantaneously  from  heaven  to  earth  ;  and  of  occasions 
where  this  has  occurred,  and  would  again  be  probable ;  but  the 

"  The  tail  is  only  a  continuation  of  the  nebulous  envelope."  "  The 
tail  of  the  great  comet  of  1680  was  computed  to  be  no  less  than  one 
hundred  millions  of  miles  in  length."  "  The  comet  of  1744  had  a 
tail  above  seven  millions  of  miles  in  length."  ^ 

*  Dan.  vii.  13 — Rev.  i.  7.— Matt.  xxvi.  C4. 
t  2  Thess.  i.  7,  8.  %  Matt.  xxvi.  30 — Luke  xxi.  27. 

1  Milne's  Prize  Essay  on  Comets,  pp.  6,  8,  etc. 


368  NOTE    H. 

idea  of  progressive  approach,  on  that  grand  occasion,  seems  to 
my  mind  more  august  and  appropriate. 

Let,  however,  the  whole  supposition  be  disapproved,  or  dis- 
missed;—let  it  also  be  expected, — (an  expectation  which  that 
supposition  no  way  contradicts,  and  which  some  interpretations 
of  prophecy,  and  some  "  signs  of  the  times,"  appear  to  favour,) 
— that  the  second  advent  will  not  be  very  long  deferred  :  still 
those  views  of  time  and  space  which  have  been  thus  brought 
before  us,  may  tend,  meanwhile,  to  illustrate  St.  Peter's  declar- 
ation, that  "  a  thousand  years  are  with  the  Lord  as  one  day :  " 
and  that  we  must  not  measure  celestial  eras,  any  more  than  ce- 
lestial motions  and  velocities,  by  our  narrow  earthly  scale.  Is  it 
not  probable,  that  even  to  created  beings,  who  may  have  existed 
millions  of  years,  the  term  of  man's  life  on  earth  appears  almost 
ephemeral ; — his  afflictions  as  the  lot  of  some  hours,  if  not  of  "  a 
moment ;  " —  or  the  whole  continuance  of  our  era,  thus  far,  as  a 
period  rather  of  eighteen  weeks  than  of  eighteen  ages  ? 

May  not  also  the  "  days  "  and  "  weeks  "  by  which  years  and 
periods  of  years  are  prophetically  expressed  in  Scripture,  in- 
volve some  allusion  to  that  sort  of  extramundane  reckonings ; 
and  do  they  not,  if  thus  viewed,  assume  a  new  kind  of  fitness  or 
impressiveness,  as  more  approaching  to  the  language  of  celestials, 
or  of  a  higher  sphere  ?  Of  course,  such  reckonings  may  differ 
vastly  more  from  any  proportions  we  have  suggested,  than  those, 
which  have  now  been  vaguely  supposed,  severally  differ  from  each 
other  :  nor  is  it  meant  to  intimate  the  existence  of  amj  o?ie  ratio 
of  celestial  to  terrestrial  time  :  for  if  measures  of  duration  are 
employed  in  celestial  worlds,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  several  motions  of  those  worlds,  they  vary.  But  the 
whole  speculation  may  serve  to  convince  us  how  little  "the 
times  and  the  seasons,"  in  the  great  course  of  Divine  dispensa- 
tions, can  be  expected  to  accord  with,  or  be  measured  by,  our 
personal  estimates. 


Note  I. 

"  '  God  said,  Let  Newton  he.'  "—Page  302. 

Since  writing  this  passage,  I  have  met  with  a  very  similar 
kind  of  reference  to  Pope's  well-known  epitaph, — though  the 
direct  or  chief  application  of  the  thought  here  urged  be  there 
less  general,  being  limited  to  the  particular  "  providential  bless- 
ing "  to  be  recognised  in  the  rise  and  "  genius  of  Bacon,"  and 
of  "  Newton  "  himself.  It  is  contained  in  a  valuable  lecture, 
"  On  the  Advantages  of  the  present  Times  with  regard  to  Free- 
dom and  Knowledge,"  by  Mr.  John  Bullar,  of  Southampton. 
(Longman,  1832.) 

I  have  not  thought  it  expedient,  even  had  the  coincidence 
been  still  more  close,  to  rescind  the  above  passage.  Such  re- 
semblances of  thought  and  illustration  must  become  more  and 
more  numerous  as  books  and  discourse  are  multiplied ;  and  it 
may  perhaps  only  need  (as  I  have  elsewhere  intimated  *)  a 
larger  acquaintance  with  them,  to  be  convinced  that  all  our 
thoughts  and  expressions,  with  some  variations,  have  been  an- 
ticipated. 


Note  J. 


^-  IV hen  this  shall  never  more  he  all  that  we  dare  profess, 

(as  now  amidst  contests  or  disquietudes  of  heart,)  '  I  love  to  love 
T^ee.""— Page  318. 

The  expression,  "  I  love  to  love  Thee,"  which  to  some  readers 
appears  strange,  has  been  used  by  several  writers.     St.  Bernard 

*  In  Thoughts  on  Devotion,  Note  D,  p.  274,  new  Edit. 


370  NOTE    J. 

employs  it,  with  other  related  and  some  nearly  parallel  phrases ; 
and  offers  on  them  subtle  questions,  which  I  shall  not  introduce. 
But  his  more  simple  devotional  statement  in  which  those  phrases 
occur,  may  be  encouraging  to  many. 

"  With  all  my  strength  I  tend  upward  unto  Thee, — into  Thee, 
O  chief  Love,  chief  Good !  Yet  the  more  strenuously  I  do  this, 
the  more  grievous  my  relapse  beneath  my  own  aspirings  ;  (tanto 
retrudor  durius  infra  memetipsum  sub  memetipso;)  and  when  I 
consider  and  examine  and  judge  myself,  I  become  to  myself  a 
subject  of  laborious  and  of  tedious  doubt.  Yet,  O  Lord  !  I  am 
surely  certain,  (certe  certus,)  through  thy  grace,  that  I  have  the 
desire  of  desiring  Thee,  (desiderium  desiderii  tui,)  and  the  love 
of  loving  Thee,  in  my  whole  heart  and  in  my  whole  soul.  Thus 
far  by  thy  agency  I  am  proficient,  that  I  desire  to  desire  Thee, 
and  love  to  love  Thee."— aSo/zVo^.  in  0pp.  p.  511. 

Elsewhere  he  writes,  addressing  himself, — "  The  affection  of 
love  is  naturally  in  thee.  He  whom  thou  seekest  is  in  thee,  if 
he  is  in  thy  love.  If  not  there,  not  in  thee.  But  him  whom  thou 
seekest,  thou  wouldst  not  seek  if  thou  didst  not  love.  Thou  hast 
therefore  whom  thou  seekest,  and  he  is  within  thee,  or  possessed 
by  thee  (penes  te).  Let  us  even  enter,  O  my  memory,  and 
all  my  afi"ections,  let  us  enter,  and  by  remembrance,  contem- 
plation, intuition,  enjoy  the  chief  Good,  and  all  the  good  which 
he  imparts."— ^'o^zYog.  in  0pp.  p.  509.  c. 


Note  K. 


"  *  faithfully  seeking,  faithfully  knocking,  often  suddenly 

finds  himself  there.'  " — Page  319. 

This  sentiment  of  Bernard,  as  well  as  that  of  the  last  quota- 
tion from  him,  is  corroborated  by  the  expectation  and  experience 
of  Christians  in  very  different  communions  from  his,  and  distant 
from  him  both  in  age  and  country. 

A  devout  German  of  the  Reformed  Church,  thus  writes : — 
"Habitually  and  patiently  expect  his  coming,  that  he  may  him- 
self undertake  the  work,  and  enable  us  to  serve  Him,  willingly, 
joyfully,  and  perfectly,  to  all  well-pleasing,  in  his  more  imme- 
diate presence,  and  in  the  light  of  his  countenance. — Do  not  let 
us  suffer  our  courage  to  fail.  It  is  a  small  thing  with  Him,  to 
cause  us  to  find  that  in  our  souls  in  one  moment,  without  trou- 
ble, which  we  may  have  sought  for  years,  externally,  with  much 
labour.  May  the  God  of  love,  whose  delights  are  with  the 
children  of  men,  assist  us  to  attain  this  blissful  state."— Ze/e, 
etc.  of  Gerhard  Tersteegen. 

Dr.  Payson  said,  about  three  weeks  before  his  departure, 
"  Perhaps  there  is  nothing  more  trying  to  the  faith  and  patience 
of  Christians,  or  which  appears  to  them  more  mysterious,  than 
the  small  supplies  of  grace  which  they  receive,  and  the  delays 
which  they  meet  in  having  their  prayers  answered :  so  that 
they  are  sometimes  ready  to  say,  '  It  is  in  vain  to  wait  upon  the 
Lord  any  longer.'  He  then  mentioned  the  text,  *  Wherefore 
gird  up  the  loins  of  your  minds,  be  sober,  and  hope  to  the  end, 
for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto  you  at  the  revelation  of 
Jesus  Christ.'  Adding, —  A  large  portion  of  the  grace  which 
Christians  are  to  receive,  will  be  given  to  them  at  the  second 
coming  of  Christ,  or  immediately  after  death ;  and  this  will  be 


372  NOTE    K. 

always  in  proportion  to  their  prayers  and  exertions  here.  Chris- 
tians need  not  therefore  be  discouraged  at  the  slov/  progress 
they  make,  and  the  little  success  which  attends  their  efforts, 
for  they  may  be  assured  that  every  exertion  is  noticed,  and 
will  be  rewarded  by  their  heavenly  Father." — Life,  (abridged 
Edit.)  p.  135. 


INDEX. 


Abbadie  (on  Daniel's  prediction)  cited,  282,  283  (note)  ; — on  the 
typical  or  twofold  prophecy  in  Matt,  xxiv.,  360 — 365. 

Augustine  (on  his  mother's  prayers)  cited,  216. 

Advent,  second,  of  Christ, — a  matter  of  promise  and  of  trust,  278 — 
280,  290,  291,  298 ;— its  delay  no  disproof —notwithstanding  the 
promise  that  it  shall  be  "  quickly,"  292,  293,  296—298 ;— may 
be  rapid  yet  remote,  367  ; — prayer  for  a  right  anticipation  of  it, 
318,  319. 

second,  of  Christ,  predicted  in  Matt,  xxiv.,  359 — 365. 

Adversities,  diminished  by  the  growth  of  pure  Christianity,  188 — 
191 ; — yet  abound,  191 ; — to  be  expected  by  Christians,  198; — 
designed  for  our  profit,  199. 

pecuniary,  their  important  uses,  199 — 201  ; — in  them- 
selves rigorous,  202  ; — but  imply  kindness,  203  ; — further  uses, 
204—206. 

A'Kempis,  on  prayer,  cited,  263. 

Animals,  the  lower,  supposed  wholly  material  by  some,  104. 

Antichrist,  the  predictions  of,  wonderfully  fulfilled,  284 — 286  ; — im- 
pression of  several  learned  WTiters  as  to  this,  354 — 359. 

Apologue  of  Idoriel,  illustrative  of  experience  in  the  difficulties  of 
Scripture,  122—129. 

Atonement,  not  impugned  by  the  doctrine  of  infinite  Mercy,  156  ; — 
is  an  effect  of  that,  157  ; — its  necessity  to  Divine  government, 
158; — a  provision  for  the  exercise  of  mercy,  159  ; — an  unparallel- 
ed pledge  for  boundless  pardon,  162  ; — Johnson  and  Baxter,  (on 
it,)  cited,  345—347. 

Barrow,  Dr.  Isaac,  on  man's  low  station,  cited,  103. 
Bateman,  Dr.  T.,  his  illness  and  Christian  joy,  309,  310. 
Baxter,  Richard,  (on  the  atonement,)  cited,  346,  347. 
Beings  imaginable  who  know  no  other  creature,  181,'  182. 
2  K 


374  INDEX. 

Belief  of  wonderful  facts  difficult  when  anxious,  16,  17. 

Bernard,  St.,  (on peculiar  grace,)  cited,  318  ; — (on  our  mortal  life,) 
cited,  322  ;  on  love  to  God,  370. 

Bible,  all  parts  of  the,  not  equally  suitable  to  be  frequently  read, 
133—135. 

Birth,  natural  and  spiritual,  their  analogy,  53,  54 ;  neither  can  im- 
ply maturity,  54. 

Bliss  immortal,  will  make  earthly  wants  next  to  nothing,  177,  178. 

Body  and  mind,  their  reciprocal  influence,  238,  239. 

Browne,  Sir  T.,  (on  the  progressive  guilt  of  sin,)  cited,  142. 

Carysfort,  Earl  of,  his  views  of  redemption,  351. 

Cecil,  Rev,  R.,  (on  mysteries,)  cited,  95. 

Chartres,  Due  de,  anecdote  concerning  the,  192. 

Chastisements,  their  reclaiming  tendency,  222,  223 ; — their  correc- 
tive use,  223  ; — need  of  them  felt  by  us,  223,  224  ; — their  perfec- 
tive use,  224,  232  ; — the  disabling,  very  mysterious,  227,  228  ;  and 
the  disappointing,  229,  230,  268. 

Cholera,  referred  to,  6,  189. 

Christ,  his  sufferings  not  only  expiatory,  but  exemplary  and  com- 
pletory,  224 — 227  ; — his  followers  have  fellowship  in  these,  226, 
234,  235  ; — a  peculiar  honour  in  this,  235,  236  ; — the  glorious  and 
eternal  results  of  his  death,  334 — 338. 

Christianity,  has  lessened  the  ills  of  this  life,  188 — 191  ; — presump- 
tive arguments  for  its  claims,  109,  (note,)  197  ; — its  corruptions 
and  slow  progress  tempt  to  doubt,  278,  279  ;  —  but  its  growth 
wide  and  sure,  287,  288. 

Christians,  the  serious,  their  views  of  life  not  the  darkest,  1 — 4 ; — 
their  hopes  of  future  social  bliss  the  highest,  316,  317. 

real,  are  individual  proofs  of  the  divinity  of  their  creed, 

305—311. 

Church  of  Christ,  the  real,  evinces  its  own  heavenly -origin,  304 
—311. 

Cicero,  on  human  life,  quoted,  1,  2 ; — how  consoled  by  a  friend  on 
his  daughter's  death,  2  ; — on  remorse,  quoted,  3. 

Civilization,  Christian,  abates  plague  and  dearth,  and  the  ills  of 
violence,  etc.,  189—191. 

Clarke,  Dr.  S.,  on  the  Divine  will  and  agency,  20  (note)  ; — on  the 
prophecies  of  Antichrist,  285,  286. 

Coincidences  of  thought,  must  multiply,  369. 

Comets,  their  nebulous  envelope,  366,  367  (note). 

Comfort,  in  what  the  true  consists,  10,  29,  30  ; — this  greatly  needed, 
33 ; — and  all-sufficient  and  attainable,  34,  35. 

Conde,  his  mental  decay,  273 ; — his  reference  to  the  state  of  the 
Jews,  288. 

Coming  of  Christ,  (see  Advent,)  spiritual  in  us,  to  be  prayed  for, 
317,  318. 

second,  "  with  clouds,"  conjectures  on  the,  296 — 298. 


INDEX.  375 

Conception  of  exalted  finite  powers,  not  extravagant,  103. 

Conflagrations,  their  frequency  in  former  times,  191. 

Conscience,  (of  sin,)  its  accusations,  11,  12. 

Consolation,  without  revealed  truth,  very  defective,  2,  and  320 ; — 
greatly  needed  by  many,  4 — 7  ; — some  of  a  gloomy  kind,  185. 

Consolations,  Christian,  may  be  very  indistinctly  attained,  5. 

Constitution,  intellectual,  not  to  be  changed,  117,  118. 

Contemplation,  in  Deity,  consists  with  omniscient  activity,  183. 

Conversion,  Christian,  its  principle,  29 ;  —  though  simple,  a  great 
change,  38,  39  ; — fears  as  to  its  genuineness,  40 ; — may  be  sud- 
denly complete,  44  ; — but  its  completion  usually  gradual,  44,  45  ; 
— retarded  by  remissness  and  relapses,  45 — 47  ; — instantaneous  in 
beginning,  (and  so  in  kind,)  but  not  in  degree,  49; — despondency 
concerning  it  to  be  shunned,  55,  56  ; — desire  for  evidences  of  it 
should  not  be  a  primary  motive,  88,  89 ; — doubts  of  its  reality 
from  relapses  into  sin,  141 — 143. 

Creation,  its  wonders  exceed  the  imaginings  of  poets,  66. 

Cross  of  Christ,  the  centre  of  moral  perfections,  33,  121. 

D'Alembert  (on  re-union  in  a  future  life)  cited,  316. 

Daniel,  his  prophecies  wonderfully  fulfilled,  282,  283,  (note,)  — 
284,  285  (note). 

Davison  (on  the  Avritings  of  Daniel)  cited,  282,  (note,)  and  355. 

Daylight,  its  gradual  rise  illustrative  of  spiritual  change,  50. 

Death,  a  Scripture  term  for  a  sinful  state,  323. 

Debility,  intellectual,  its  effects,  238,  239  ; — self-reproach  under  it, 
247  ; — undue  mental  efforts,  in  this  state,  to  be  shunned,  257  ; 
— teaches  charity  to  the  failings  of  others,  269,  270  ; — and  sym- 
pathy, 271. 

Deity,  the  greatest  of  mysteries,  18,  19  ; — agency  of,  incessant  and 
universal,  20  (note)  ;  —  cannot  be  conceived  to  exercise  certain 
virtues  except  in  an  assumed  nature,  69,  70 ; — this  statement  ex- 
plained, 352,  353  ; — conceptions  of,  how  inadequate,  97 — 100, 
105,  106  ; — moral  attributes  of,  imperfectly  ascertained  by  philoso- 
phy, 106,  107  ; — has  a  paternal  and  judicial  relation  to  us,  157  ; — 
dependence  on,  taught  by  afflictions,  272  ;  —  forgetfulness  of, 
astonishing,  328. 

Dejection  of  mind,  fear  is  its  essence,  242 ; — yet  admits  peculiar 
hope  of  immediate  relief,  250,  251,  259  ; — instances  of  its  occur- 
rence and  removal ;  —  David —  Jeremiah  —  Herbert,  252,  253  ; 
— Boyle  —  Newton,  253,254;  —  patient  endurance  urged,  258  ; 
— and  prayer,  259 — 265  ;  —  augments  the  danger  of  temptations, 
265,  266. 

Dependence  on  God's  will,  taught  by  afflictions,  271,  272. 

Desire,  Christian,  of  happiness,  not  selfish,  312,  313;  —  extends 
even  to  lower  creatures,  313,  314 ; — fervent  for  friends  and  kin- 
dred, 314—316. 

Desires  of  pious  benevolence  and  affection,  baffled,  229,  230. 
2  K  2 


376  INDEX. 

Despondency  as  to  conversion,  arising  from  sinfulness,  137  ; — ex- 
postulations against  it,  144,  145;  —  as  to  our  interest  in  eternal 
good,  how  to  be  relieved,  333,  334. 

Difficulties,  scriptural,  (see  Scripture,)  experienced  and  partially 
overcome,  130 — 133. 

Distress,  spiritual,  reliefs  for  it  not  always  appropriate,  137  ;  — 
specially  caused  by  sins  after  professed  faith,  138,  139; — the  gos- 
pel remedy  addressed  to  its  worst  supposition,  149,  150; — in- 
creased by  mental  illness  or  debility,  247,  248. 

Doddridge  (on  regeneration)  cited,  52  (note)  ; — his  extreme  weak- 
ness at  birth,  52; — (on  "the  day  of  small  things,")  cited,  53; 
— his  definition  of  special  grace,  348. 

Doubt,  itself  an  intimation  of  God's  upholding  energy,  105. 

Dreams,  half  conscious,  or  reveries,  illustrate  a  delusive  or  imagined 
laith,  60,  61. 

Earth,  its  motions,  believed  oiioseli/,  17  ; — how  if  a  matter  of  new 

interest,  17,  18. 
Education,  religious,  may  render  conversion  less  marked,  139 — 142. 
Energy,  mental,  mysteriously  impaired,  228 ;  —  a  severe  infliction, 

228,  229. 
Enjoyments,  social,  the  highest  often  denied,  170 — 172  ; — when  pos- 
sessed, often  imbittered,  172,  173; — the  ideal  not  realized,  173, 

174  ; — all  on  earth  transient,  176. 
Epidemics  abated  by  Christian  civilization,  189. 
Evidences  of  our  conversion,  prospective  eff'ort  for  these  not  fit  or 

availing,  88  ; — but  retrospective  examination  proper  and  requisite, 

89,  90  ;— should  be  strict,  yet  candid,  92. 
Evil,  moral  and  penal,  how  incredible  if  unknown  experimentally, 

23  ; — of  the  heart,  strongly  affirmed  in  Scripture,  144,  145  ; — its 

origin  inscrutable,  163. 
Example  of  our  Redeemer,  its  moral  influence,  28  ;  —  one  purpose 

of  his  sufferings,  224 — 22*7. 
Existence,  by  many  heathens,  not  deemed  a  good,  1,  and  343 — 345. 

Faith,  erroneously  decried  by  some,  36  ;  —  is  conversion,  29,  and 
36;  —  a  "  main-spring,"  38; — has  its  degrees  and  changes,  40, 
76,  77  ; — doubts  of  its  genuineness,  58,  59; — spurious  or  imagin- 
ative semblance  of  it,  illustrated  by  scenic  illusions,  60; — by 
dreams,  60,  61;  —  delusive  and  genuine,  by  supposed  cases  of 
Ardentio  and  Sophron,  61 — 63;  —  essence  of  the  distinction, 
63,  64,  71 — 73; — far  more  valuable  than  imagination,  75,  76; — 
its  sincerity  not  disproved  by  variations,  77,  78  ; — doubts  of  this 
on  account  of  mixed  motives,  83,  84,  86  ; — its  defectiveness  great, 
328— 33J. 

in  Christ's  redemption,  produces  aversion  to  sin,  and  love  to 

God,  26,  27. 

Fears  as  to  spiritual  and  eternal  prospects,  very  prevalent,  7 — 9. 


INDEX.  377 

Fenelon  (on  self-complacence)  cited,  88  (note);  —  on  scrupulous 
self-inspection,  93,  94 ; — on  tolerance  of  faults,  269,  270. 

Fluctuation  of  religious  experience,  one  of  its  causes,  75,  76. 

Forgiveness,  unlimited,  a  duty,  154,  155. 

"  Forgivenesses,"  boundless,  the  doctrine  of,  consoling  and  power- 
ful, 150,  151; — nothing  less  sufficient,  151; — is  certain,  152, 
153;  —  argued  from  the  inculcation  of  forgiveness  on  us,  153 — 
155; — no  irreverence  in  this  argument,  160,  161;  —  the  proper 
display  of  God's  greatness  m  respect  to  mercy,  163  ; — needs  to  be 
revealed  to  fervent  prayer,  165,  166  ; — happy  tendency  of  it,  166, 
1 67  ; — fully  promised,  260. 

Forster,  Rev.  C,  on  the  prophecies  of  Antichrist,  cited,  355 — 
357. 

Friendship,  active  without  emotion,  illustrative  of  a  certain  religious 
state,  84. 

God,  (see  Deity,)  the  "gift"  of,  imperial  and  immense,  330,  331, 
333 ;  —  the  temporal  bounties  of,  only  loans,  332 ;  —  the  eternal, 
consonant  to  his  glory,  335. 

Good,  immense,  educed  from  a  startling  mystery  of  evil,  109,  110. 

Gospel  of  Christ,  a  vague  view  of  it  insufficient,  12,  13 ;  —  its  un- 
speakable value,  13,  14,  320,  321  ; — glorious  and  powerful,  24,  25  ; 
— summary  of  it,  32  ; — its  power  and  freedom,  32,  33  ; — what  else 
could  be  so  precious  ?  33 — 35  ;  —  invitation  to  it,  34,  35  ;  —  the 
desire  to  receive  it,  a  happy  indication,  48 ; — seems  viewed  by 
some  as  a  sublime  mythology,  65 ;  or  as  if  romance,  71 ; — tends 
to  reconcile  to  adversity,  197. 

Gospels,  their  invention  not  credible,  67,  109  (note). 

Government,  the  Divine,  upholden  by  Christ's  sacrifice,  14,  15  ; — 
love,  its  principle,  109. 

Grace,  peculiar  and  unlocked  for,  the  hope  of,  encouraged  by  Chris- 
tian writers,  371. 

special,  not  to  be  rashly  disclaimed,  80,  146  ; — definition  of 

it,  347  ;— Howe's  view  of  it  cited,  348,  349. 

Gratitude  towards  God  to  be  cultivated,  as  a  principle,  84,  241. 

Gratuitousness,  the  character  of  the  Christian  salvation,  31,  32. 

Happiness,  heavenly,  to  be  social,179 — 186; — and  benevolent ;  Dr. 
Payson  on  this,  312,  313  (note) ; — the  desire  of  it  a  presumption 
of  its  reality,  311,  312. 

Hartley  (on  the  Prophecies)  cited,  354,  355. 

Heathen,  their  wavering  hopes  of  a  life  to  come,  2  ; — owned  crimes 
to  produce  the  greatest  pain,  3 ; — their  creeds  merely  imagina- 
tive, 64 ;  —  philosophers,  saw  the  neccessity  of  penal  s-uffering, 
158, 159  ;  —  and  of  chastisements  to  reclaim,  223  (note)  ; — many 
of  them  viewed  life  as  an  evil,  343 — 345. 

Henderson,  John,  letter  to  him,  cited,  267. 

Henry,  M.  and  P.,  a  saying  of  theirs,  172. 
2  K   3 


378  INDEX. 

Herbert,  and  M.  Henry,  on  reconversions,  48  ; — Herbert,  his  dying 
words,  308. 

Herodotus  (on  the  opinions  of  the  Thracians)  cited,  344. 

Holy  Spirit,  a  Comforter  and  Teacher,  10;  —  his  work  of  grace 
not  to  be  arrogated  to  ourselves,  146,  147  ;  —  sin  against,  what, 
260. 

Hope  of  spiritual  blessings,  a  duty,  55,  56  ; — preliminary  grounds 
for  it,  82 ; — the  same  ground  of  it  for  saint  and  sinner,  148  ; — 
boundless  scope  for  it  in  God's  mercies,  164,  165. 

of  spiritual  good  for  those  dear  to  us  encouraged,  220. 

may  be  all  but  extinguished  by  dejection,  242,  243  ; — con- 
siderations which  should  foster  it,  249. 

Howe,  John,  his  readiness  for  death,  309  ;-^(on  the  desire  of  hea- 
ven,) cited,  311  ;  —  (on  common  and  special  grace,)  cited,  348, 
349. 

Human  beings  need  consolation,  as  such,  4. 

Humility,  spurious,  to  be  shunned,  80,  145,  146  ; — true,  combined 
with  hope,  147,  148. 

Idolatry,  its  wide  destruction  by  the  gospel,  memorable  both  as  a 
fact,  and  as  a  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  281 — 283. 

Idoriel,  his  allegoric  progress  through  a  cavern  to  Paradise,  122 
—129. 

Illness,  mental,  instances  of  its  existence  and  relief,  252 — 254 ; — 
its  extraordinary  removal  the  act  of  God,  251  ;  —  means  not  un- 
availing, 255  ;  —  physical  causes  of  it  probable,  255  ;  —  means 
recommended,  256,  257  ; — likely  to  be  relieved  by  prayer,  260; — 
does  not  preclude  all  usefulness,  274 ; — to  be  hereafter  divinely 
and  gloriously  healed,  275,  276. 

Imagination,  sometimes  appears  to  be  substituted  for  faith,  59  ; 
— in  religion  dangerous,  when  unregulated,  71,  75,  76;  —  useful, 
when  auxiliary  ;  illustrated  by  the  telescope,  72,  73  ; — consola- 
tion under  its  deficiencies,  74  ; — often  forms  an  ideal  not  realized, 
172—174. 

Imaginative,  caution  to  the,  75 — 77. 

Immortality,  an  infinite  gift,  whether  to  low  or  lofty  creatures,  331 
—333. 

Impenitent,  in  what  sense  forgiven,  156  ;  —  why  not  as  such,  156, 
157. 

Incarnation  of  Deity,  its  wonderfulness  and  seeming  incredibility, 
16; — is  credible,  19 — 24; — and  worthy  of  God,  as  demonstrating 
his  moral  perfections,  21  ; — appears  more  so  than  some  minor 
wonders,  22  ;  —  more  credible  than  Evil,  23,  24  ;  —  but  amazing 
and  awful,  24,  25  ; — yet  cheering  and  efficacious,  25  ; — exhibits 
Him  as  the  prototype  oi  suffering  virtue,  70  ; — its  eflects  must  be 
infinite,  335. 

Incredulity,  extreme  case  of  it,  73  (note). 

Inlanticide,  how  palliated,  345. 


INDEX.  379 

Infinitude  of  Deity,  not  enough  considered,  97  ; — more  perceived  by 

higher  intelligences,  97,  98  ; — not  explored  by  us,  101  ; — involves 

omniscience  and  omnipotence,  106. 
Insects,  illustrate  the  Divine  attributes,  21 — 23. 
or  reptiles  of  Egypt,  what  knew  they  of  the  works  of  Moses, 

104. 
Intelligence,  a  created,  supposed  to  rule  the  birds  or  insects  of  some 

world,  102. 
Intercession  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  155,  160. 
■ —  affectionate,    for  others ;     its  efficacy   should  not  be 

doubted,  218,  219; — sometimes  not  answered  soon,  230,  231. 
Inventions,  their  wonderful  progress,  an  effect  of  God's  providence, 

and  responds  to  his  promise,  300 — 304. 

Jerusalem,  Christ's  prophecy  of  its  fall,  and  of  the  end  of  the  world, 

considered,  359 — 362,  364,  365. 
Jews,  predictions  concerning  the,  wonderfully  fulfilled,  283,  284 ; — 

more  wonderfully  as  years  go  on,  288. 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  (on  the  doctrine  of  Atonement,)  cited,  345,346. 
Julian,  a  saying  of  his,  37. 

Keith,  Rev.  A.,  (on  the  prophecies  of  Daniel,)  cited,  357 — 359. 
Klopstock  (on  the  central  heaven)  cited,  366. 
Knowledge,  Christian,  the  basis  of  comfort,  10. 

Lavater  (on  the  heaven  of  heavens)  cited,  365. 

Leighton,  Archbishop,  (on  affliction,)  cited,  204  (note). 

Life,  a  Scripture  term  for  happiness,  322 ; — in  its  highest  sense  a 
term  of  exalted  import,  323,  324, 

another,  the  desire  of,  a  presumption  of  its  reality,  311,  312. 

human,  gloomy  vieAvs  of  heathens  concerning,  1 , 2,  and  343 — 345. 

eternal,  the  explicit  promise  of  Christ,  321  ;— not  conceivable 

by  us,  324 — 326  ; — first  experience  of  it  surprising,  327  ; — difficulty 
of  belief  in,  329  ;— grounds  of  its  credibility,  329—338  ;— duty 
and  effects  of  meditation  on  it,  338 — 341. 

Love,  the  infinite  principle  of  the  Divine  sovereignty,  109  ;— this 
fact  involved  in  the  very  revelation  which  produces  our  spiritual 
anxieties,  217; — may  have  been  variously  and  immensely  dis- 
played, 350,  351. 

to  God,  filial,  grateful,   and   imitative,  —  the    true  Christian 

motive,  83,  84 ; — may  exist  as  a  principle  without  conscious  emo- 
tion, 84; — to  be  prayed  for,  93,  and  317,  318  ; — will  not  in  hea- 
ven exclude  subordinate  love  to  creatures,  178 — l&HJ,  184; — that 
love  a  modification  of  love  to  God,  185,  186. 

Jyowth,  Bishop,  (on  the  mystic  allegory,)  cited,  363. 

Man,  probably  the  lowest  of  rational  beings,  99,  103  ; — limitation  of 
his  progress,  299  ; — yet  greatness  and  acceleration  of  it,  300. 


380  INDEX. 

Meditation  on  eternal  life,  recommended,  329,  338,  339. 

Mercenary,  the  idea  of  a,  30 — 32. 

Mercy,  God's  triumphant  attribute,  153;  —  original  in  Deity,  156 
—159. 

Merit,  in  the  sight  of  God,  no  pretension  to,  13,  14,  340. 

Millions,  five  hundred,  a  number  not  apprehended,  100. 

Milton  (on  our  mortal  life)  cited,  322  (note). 

Mind,  human,  some  of  its  diversities,  117 — 119; — its  great  frailty, 
273,  274 ; — instanced  in  Conde,  Romilly,  etc.,  ibid. 

Miracles  of  Christ,  (on  the  blind,)  illustrative  of  diverse  methods  of 
conversion,  42 — 46. 

Missions,  Christian,  their  extent  great  and  increasing,  287. 

Mohammedanism,  prophecies  of  it  fulfilled,  284,  285,  and  356 — 359  ; 
its  growth  and  duration  no  proof  of  a  Divine  origin,  304,  305. 

Monica,  her  prayers  for  her  son,  212 ; — promise  to  her,  215,  216. 

Monotheism,  its  progress  in  the  world,  286. 

More,  Mrs.  Hamiah,  letter  of,  cited,  267. 

Mother,  widowed,  her  anxieties,  209  ; — and  anticipations,  210. 

Munificence,  Divine,  properly  so  called,  not  to  be  conceived  of  ex- 
cept in  Redemption,  67 — 69. 

Mysteries  inseparable  from  religion,  19. 

— moral,  abound  m  nature  and  society,  95,  96  ; — tempt  to 

unbelief,  96  ;  but  ought  not,  110,  111 ;  even  were  they  more  and 
greater,  111,  112; — Mysteries  must  be  endless,  113; — but  not 
always  painful,  ibid. 

of  Christ's  life  and  death  awful  and  startling,  109,  110. 


Newton,  Sir  I.,  his  life  in  the  first  hours  despaired  of,  53  ; — his 
mental  illness  and  recovery,  254 ; — his  rise  and  discoveries,  (as 
those  of  others,)  an  ordination  of  God,  302,  303,  and  369. 

Norris,  his  view  of  the  love  of  God  erroneous,  179. 

Obedience  not  properly  "  good,"  when  in  any  sense  mercenary, 
30,  31. 

Ocean,  employed  to  illustrate  God's  infinite  mercies,  162,  165. 

Oculist,  the  character  of  his  operation  illustrative  of  Christian  con- 
version, 38 — 40  ;  and  its  imperfections,  41. 

Omnipotence,  Divine,  how  referred  to  by  Christ,  109 — 113. 

Ores,  their  alloy  and  cleansing  illustrate  the  spiritual  purification, 
78—80. 

Origin  of  sympathetic  disease  obscure,  238,  239. 

Orphans,  anxieties  of  a  mother  for  them,  210,  211. 

Owen,  Dr.  J.,  (on  God's  infinite  mercies,)  cited,  155,  156, 164  ; — (on 
the  refuge  of  the  "sin-entangled,")  cited,  261. 

Pain,  often  mysteriously  prolonged,  231  ; — the  extreme  test  for  us, 

235. 
mental,  more  tolerable  by  considering  how  it  might  be  aggra- 


INDEX.  381 

vated,  240,  241 ; — ^remembrance  of  it  very  imperfect,  243  ; — ag- 
gravated by  sinful  indulgence,  265,  266 ; — probable  benefits  of, 
268,  269  ; — hope  in  God  for  its  removal  enjoined,  275 — 277. 

Papacy,  the,  its  power  and  fall  predicted,  284 — 2S6,  289. 

Parhelion,  illustrates  a  delusive  substitution  of  imagination  for 
faith,  64. 

Patrick,  Bp.,  (on  Christ's  Advent,)  cited,  318,  319. 

Payson,  Dr.,  (on  heavenly  happiness,)  cited,  312,  313  (note)  ; — (on 
the  delay  of  grace,)  cited,  371,  372. 

Perfection,  moral,  of  the  Deity,  exhibited  by  the  Gospel,  108,  109. 

Persecution  not  the  sole  test  of  Christian  constancy,  203,  204. 

Peter,  (St.)  his  allusion  to  his  o^vn  fall,  47. 

Planet,  nearer  vision  of  a, — its  effects,  98. 

Playfair's  MS.  lectures  cited,  66. 

Pleasures  to  end  with  this  life,  of  small  worth,  176. 

Porteus,  Bp.,  (on  the  prophecy  concerning  Jerusalem,)  cited,  363, 
364. 

Prayer  for  spiritual  blessings  urged,  55,  56 ;  and  for  a  right  view 
of  things  eternal,  324,  340,  341  ;  —  concerning  temporal  things, 
its  spirit,  207,  215  ; — well-ordered  thoughts  and  words  not  essential 
to  it,  262  ; — silent,  preferred  by  Scougal,  263  ; — aids  to  oral,  264  ; 
— delay  of  answers  should  not  discourage,  37 1 . 

Predictions  fulfilled  and  fulfilling,  of  the  spread  of  true  religion, 
281,  282  ;— of  the  state  of  the  Jews,  283,  284  ;— of  the  papal  and 
Mohammedan  antichrist,  284,  285,  and  355 — 359. 

Prichard,  Dr.,  on  the  Divine  Agency,  20,  21  (note). 

Pride  may  exist  under  the  form  of  humility,  145,  146. 

Princes  often  reduced  in  our  days,  192,  193. 

Privations,  eartlily,  their  tendency  to  endear  the  chief  good,  178. 

Prophecy,  its  wonderful  and  growing  fulfilments,  281 — 293  ; — its 
twofold  sense,  359 — 365  ; — of  the  desti'uction  of  Jerusalem,  con- 
sidered, ihid. 

Prosperity,  worldly,  sure  means  of,  not  possible  to  foresee  or  se- 
lect, 213. 

Providence  of  God  directs  tlae  progress  of  man  and  of  science, 
301—304. 

Purposes,  philanthropic,  mysteriously  interrupted  by  illness,  227, 
228  ; — by  opposition,  229. 

QuiNTiLiAN,  on  vice,  quoted,  4. 

Redemption  by  Christ  both  a  motive  and  a  rule,  28  ; — its  wonders 

exceed  all  fictions  of  the  heroic,  65 — 69. 
if  fictitious,  would  be  a  conception  of  virtue 

excelling  any  (knov.'n  or)  conceivable  act  of  Deity,  67 — 70 ; — its 

truth  argued  from  the  promise  of  life  eternal,  333,  334 ; — some 

suppositions  concerning  it  presumptuous,  350. 
Regeneration,  or  spiritual  birth,  not  in  general  consciously  com- 


382  INDEX. 

menced,  nor  suddenly  complete,  51  ;  analogous  to  natural  birth, 

51—54. 
Relapses  of  the  convert  necessitate  a  sort  of  renewed  conversion, 

46 — 48  ; — pain  and  dread  attendant  on  them,  1 41 — 143. 
llemedies,  both  for  bodily  and  spiritual  disease,  imperfectly  judged 

of,  268. 
Reverses  of  condition  prevalent  in  our  ovm  age,  191 — 196  ; — many 

sudden  and  great,  191 — 193  ; — many  slighter  yet  painfiil,  193 — 

196 ; — not  always  acquiesced  in  aright,  198,  199. 
Review,  the  Presbyterian,  remarks  on  a  stricture  of,  352. 
Rutherford,  his  dying  expressions,  307. 

Safety,  spiritual,  sure  to  persevering  prayer,  260. 

Sampson,  Dr.  H.,  his  character,  308. 

Scougal,  on  mental  prayer,  cited,  263,  264. 

Scripture,  its  difficulties,  painful  to  some,  115  ; — and  the  insensitive- 
ness  of  others  to  them,  116 — 118; — some  minds  overcome  them 
by  an  ardent  hold  of  the  great  truths,  119,  120;  —  this  the  right 
expedient,  121 — 136 ; — experience  of  them  allegorically  illustrated, 
122 — 129  ; — its  promises  sealed  by  vast  events,  281 — 293. 

Seals  of  the  truth  of  Scripture  prophecy  enlarge  tJiemselves,  286 — 
289  ;— indestructible,  289,  290. 

Selection  not  to  be  neglected  in  Scripture  reading,  133 — 135. 

Shaw  (on  the  love  of  God)  cited,  179,  180. 

Ship,  different  impulses  of,  illustrate  plurality  of  concurrent  motives, 
86,  87. 

Sibbes  (on  the  work  of  grace)  cited,   147. 

Simplicity  (of  a  principle)  often  viewed  with  prejudice,  37. 

Sin,  rebuked  by  a  believing  view  of  redemption,  28,  29. 

Sins,  multiplied  after  a  profession  of  faith,  induce  the  greatest  de- 
spondency, 138,  139  ; — the  number  and  greatness  of,  need  infinite 
pardon,  153  ; — (contrite  prayer  its  remedy,  267.) 

Society,  none  in  the  mere  presence  of  human  beings,  nor  of  the  un* 
congenial,  169,  170. 

Socrates,  on  Divine  omniscience,  cited,  107. 

Solicitude,  for  spiritual  good  of  others,  just,  211,  212; — maybe  ex- 
cessive, 212. 

Solitude,  comparative,  168 ;  —  alleviated  by  the  lower  animals, 
169 ; — optional  probably  in  heaven,  182,  183 ; — not  the  highest 
state,  183. 

South  (on  God's  mercy)  cited,  153. 

Spirit,  the  uncreated,  differs  in  kind  from  all  the  created,  104. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  on  the  Divine  agency,  20  (note). 

Strength,  bodily,  mysteriously  broken,  227,  228. 

Sufferers  addressed,  4 — 7. 

Suffering,  perfective  uses  of,  224 — 231 ; — as  well  as  corrective,  233. 

— : human,  of  three  kinds,  237  ;  —  sometimes   distinct,  but 

usually  mingled,  238,  239. 


INDEX.  383 

Sun,  view  of  it  and  its  reflections,  illustrates  love  to  God  and 
creatures,  184,  185. 

Sunrise,  difficult  usually  to  mark  it ;  so  the  moment  of  conversion, 
50,51. 

Supposition  that  lower  creatures  were  latent  to  us,  22 ; — of  an  an- 
gel proclaiming  the  gospei  to  each  human  being,  100,  101. 

Sympathy,  not  given  to  some  degi-ees  of  adversity,  195,  196. 

with  mental  pain  incomplete,  and  often  none,  244,  245  ; — 

reasons  for  this,  245,  246  ; — often  wanting  to  spiritual  grief,  248. 

Taylor,  (Bp.  J.,)  on  "infinite  mercies,"  cited,  163,  164. 
Telescope,  different  uses  of,  illustrate  different  uses  of  imagination, 

72,  73. 
Terms,  comprehensive,  or  totals,  little  more  than  algebraic  names,  100. 
Theory,  scenic,  of  gospel  truth,  an  illusive  substitute  for  faith,  60, 

74. 
Thinkers,  some  prompt  and  powerful,  on  great  subjects,  105  ; — ^but 

developement  needed  by  others,  105,  106. 
Time,  its  regulated  progress  a  daily  new  and  growing  proof  of  God's 

government,  294—296. 

its  measures,  cannot  give  a  conception  of  eternity,  325,  326. 

celestial,  not  to  be  measured  by  an  earthly  scale,  368. 

Tolerance  of  others'  faults,  taught  by  mental  illness,  269 — 271. 
Tragedy  and  romance,  their  practical  moral  effect  slight,  66. 
Trials  intended  for  our  good,  199. 

Unbelievers,  derisive  and  destructive  spirit  of,  278,  279 ; — their 

"scoffs"  predicted,  289. 
Universe,  its  order  responds  to  the  Scripture  promises,  293 — 295. 
its  centre  by  some  considered  "  the  heaven  of  heavens," 

365. 

Velocities,  of  planets, — of  sunbeams,  296 — 298. 
Vice,  a  source  of  pain,  admitted  by  heathens,  3. 

War,  its  evils  mitigated,   190,  191 ;  —  and  hopes  concerning,  190 

(note). 
Worlds,  their  motion  and  order,  yield  a  growing  proof  of  God's 

faithfulness,  294—299. 


THE    RELIGIOUS   TRACT    SOCIETY  : 
INSTITUTED   1799.