Skip to main content

Full text of "The Princeton pulpit"

See other formats 


mmM^mm^hismmmLm 


•^':ik;jr-[:^:!i:n;::::-ij].:i-^'^!.ii.- 


rii?&&i}-:?~2 


c 


•^Cji 


.<  \\\t  Mhtolofficiti  g. 


'%., 


(% 


PRINCETON,     N.    J. 


^JAjljl^iO    .OV 


"h. 


AM  PRES  BX9178.A1  D84  1852 
Princeton  pulpit  / 


Shelf... 


THE  PRINCETON   PULPIT. 


THE 


PRINCETON    PULPIT 


EDITED    BY 


JOHN    T.    DUFFIELD, 

ADJUNCT    PROFESSOE    OF    MATUESIATICS,     IN   PKISCETON    COLLEGE. 


NEW   YORK: 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER,    145    NASSAU    STREET. 

1852. 


EntcTcil  according  to  Act  of  Congi-css,  in  the  yeiir  1>.J2,  by 
OIIAELES    SCEIBNEE, 
111  the  i:lerk"s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Uuited  States  for  the  Suuthcrn  District 
of  New  Torli. 


Printed  by 

c.  w.  bi:nedict. 

201  William  Street. 


PREFACE. 


The  Sermons,  which  are  here  given  to  the  public,  were 
not  originally  prepared  for  this  purpose.  They  were, 
generally,  delivered  in  Princeton,  by  the  different  contri- 
butors, in  the  ordinary  course  of  their  ministerial  labours. 
The  immediate  design  of  their  present  publication  is  to 
aid  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of  Princeton.  AVith 
this  object  in  view,  the  contributions  were  kindly  fur- 
nished, at  the  request  of  tlie  Compiler.  He  was  induced 
to  undertake  this  work,  by  assurances  from  various 
quarters,  that  such  a  volume,  would  not  only  be  grate- 
fully received  by  the  numerous  graduates  of  the  College 
and  Seminary  of  Princeton,  as  an  interesting  memento 
of  their  Instructors,  but  would  be  regarded  by  many  other 
friends  of  those  Institutions,  as  an  acceptable  contribution 
to  our  religious  literature.  Under  these  circumstances, 
the  volume  is  submitted  to  the  public,  with  prayerful 
trust,  that  by  God's  blessing  it  may  be  instrumental 
in  promoting  His  glory. 

The  sermon  of  Dr.  Miller  was  selected  from  his  pub- 
lished discourses,  he  having  requested  that  none  of  his 


I 


VI  P  E  E  F  A  C  E  . 

/ 

manuscript  sermons  should  be  publislied,  after  his  death. 
It  was  originally  delivered  before  the  Dorcas  Society  of 
the  City  of  !N"ew  York. 

The  sermon  of  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  is  probably 
the  last  complete  discourse  he  ever  prepared,  and  was 
delivered  by  him  in  the  City  of  Isqw  York,  at  the  instal- 
lation of  his  son,  the  Rev.  James  W.  Alexander,  D.D. 

The  friends  of  Prof.  Dod  have  selected  from  liis  manu- 
scripts a  sermon,  which  from  its  subject,  was  one  of  his 
favourite  discourses.  Its  devout  and  elevating  sentiments, 
in  regard  to  "  those  things  that  are  not  seen,"  will  doubt- 
less be  read  with  peculiar  interest,  now  that  he  who 
uttered  them,  is  no  longer  looking  at  those  things,  "  as 
through  a  glass,  darkly,"  but  "  face  to  face"  beholds 
them,  wdth  the  open  vision  of  one  of  "the  spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect." 

J.  T.  D. 

Pkinceton,  :N".  J.,  3fmj,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

The  Appropriate   Duty   and   Ornament   of  the 

Female  ^^x, 9 

By  Samuel  Miller,  D.D. 


KiGHTLY   DlA'IDi:^«r  THE    "WoRD    OF   TrUTH,  .  .  29 

V- 

By  Archibald  Alexander,  D.D, 


A  Baccalaojeate  Discourse,         •         .         .         .48 

By  James  Carnahan,  D.D. 


Faith  in  Chrj«1^,  the  Source  of  Spiritual  Life,  .       74: 

By  Charles  Uodge,  D.D. 


Filial  Piet^ 95 

V 
By  John  Maclean,  D.D. 


Sorrow  BETTERy-^riiAN  Laughter,    .  •  1^7 

V 

By  James  W.  Alexander,  D.D. 


YlU  CONTENTS. 

Tnge 
LfKJKING    AT    TnyTlIING^i    ■\V1IIC1I    AKE    NOT   SkKN,  .    138 

By  Albert  U.  Dod,  D.D. 

TjIK   CllKISTIAK  PlIII.OSorHY   OF   Eevoli'tion,       .  .    101 

By  -M.  B.  Hope,  D.P. 

Till-;  Power  and  PKurKTUiTY  of  Law,      .         .         .  ISO 

By  John  Forsyth,  D.I). 

Til K  Work  OF  ^^T), 207 

By  J.  Addison  Alexander,  D.D. 


Gor>,  THE  Guime^oF  His  Blind  Peoplf, 


Bv  Wni.  E.  Sc'lit-iick. 


'•ri:> 


CiiiiLST,  THE  Manifestation  of  God,         .         .         .  2-10 

By  Wm.  Ileury  "tfreen. 


PkLIGIOUS    pETmfiMENT,       .  .  .  .  .  .20, 

By  Georgo  51.  Giger. 


Search  the  SoiirPTuiiKS, 203 

By  Tbos.  W.  Cnttoll. 

The  Position  of  the  TIfman  Race  in  the  Divine 

EcoNoMi%/f 302 

Bv  John  T.  Duffield. 


THE  APPROrRIATE   DUTY   AND  ORNAMENT   OF  THE 
FEMALE  SEX. 

BT 

THE  REV.  SAMUEL  MILLER,  D.  D., 

PKOFKSSOK  OF  ECOLKSIASTICAL  HISTORY   AND  OH0KCH  GOVERNMENT. 


Now  there  was  at  Joppa  a  certain  disciple  named  Tabitha,  which,  by 
interpretation,  is  called  Dorcas ;  this  woman  was  full  of  good  works  and 
alms-deeds  which  she  did. — Acts  ix. 

Sacred  history  differs  from  profane,  in  a  variety 
of  important  particulars.  The  latter  is  chiefly  em- 
ployed in  exhibiting  the  struggles  of  ambition,  the 
triumphs  of  power,  and  the  glare  of  blood-stained 
honors :  the  former  dwells  more  on  the  duties  of 
private  life,  and  especially  on  the  meek,  humble, 
and  retiring  graces  of  the  Christian.  The  one  pre- 
sents a  splendid,  but  not  always  faithful  picture, 
which  is  calculated  to  indulge  curiosity,  and  to 
flatter  pride  ;  the  other  unfolds  the  heart,  displays 
its  character  in  all  the  simplicity  and  correctness  oi" 
truth,  and  sets  before  us  examples  proper  for  the 
imitation  of  every  age,  and  sex,  and  condition  of 
mankind. 

The  portion  of  sacred  history  before  us  com- 


10  THE      PRIlSrCETON     PULPIT. 

prises,  within  a  very  small  compass,  mucli  matter 
for  reflection.  It  exhibits  a  character,  and  a  train 
of  circumstances,  from  which  we  may  at  all  times 
learn  a  variety  of  important  lessons,  but  which  are 
peculiarly  applicable  to  our  present  purpose. 

"  There  was  residings  at  Joppa,"  a  sea-port  town 
on  the  Mediterranean,  about  thirty-four  miles  north- 
west of  Jerusalem,  "  a  certain  woman  named  Tabi- 
tha,  which,  by  interpretation,  is  called  Dorcas."  The 
former  of  these  names  is  a  Syriac  word,  signifying 
a  roe  or  fmvn  /  the  latter,  a  Greek  word,  of  the 
same  import.  This  woman  was  "  a  disciple."  That 
is,  she  had  embraced  the  gospel,  and  lived  under 
its  power.  Her  religion  did  not  consist  merely  in 
''  calling  Christ,  Lord,  Lord."  She  testified  the  sin- 
cerity of  her  faith  by  a  holy  life  and  conversation. 
She  "  was  full  of  good  works,  and  of  alms-deeds 
which  she  did." 

But  the  most  sincere  and  exemplary  piety  is  no 
defence  against  the  attacks  of  disease  and  death. 
All  die,  because  all  have  sinned.  "It  came  to  pass, 
therefore,  in  those  days" — that  is,  when  the  Apostle 
Peter  was  preaching  in  Jjydda^  a  neighboring  town, 
that  Z^orm*  was  taken  "  sick  and  died."  Immediately 
after  her  death,  the  pious  widows,  and  other  disci- 
ples, who  had  attended  her  during  her  illness,  hav- 
ing taken  a  decent  and  respectful  care  of  the 
corpse,  dis];)atched  messengers  to  the  apostle,  en- 
treating him  to  come  to  them  without  delay. 
Whether  they  anticipated  his  raising  their  de- 
parted friend  from  the  dead,  or  only  expected  him 
to  attend  the  funeral,  and  to  comfort  them  under 


SAMUEL      MILLER,      D.D.  11 

their  bereavement,  we  have  scarcely  ground  even 
for  conjecture.  At  any  rate,  in  sending  for  the 
Apostle,  they  manifested  at  once  their  attachment 
and  respect  for  the  deceased,  and  a  taste  for  his 
evangelical  instruction  and  conversation. 

I  know  scarcely  anything  in  this  world,  more 
desirable,  or  more  gratifying  than  the  friendship, 
the  consolations,  and  the  kind  offices  of  the  pious ; 
and  especially  in  the  day  of  trial,  and  at  the  hour 
of  death.  At  seasons  of  this  kind,  the  gay  and  the 
worldly  are  apt  to  fly  from  us.  But  even  if  they 
give  us  their  presence,  what  will  it  avail  ?  Alas  ! 
"  miserable  comforters  are  they  all  V  What  can  they 
tell  us  of  that  gospel  which  hath  poured  eternal 
day  on  "  the  night  of  the  grave,"  or  of  that  "  blood 
which  cleanseth  from  all  sin  ?"  What  can  they  tell 
us  of  the  "  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises — 
of  "  everlasting  consolation,"  and  of  "  a  good  hope 
through  grace  V  When  my  last  hour  is  come,  let 
pious  friends  surround  my  bed!  Let  those  who 
fear  Gocl,  and  have  an  interest  at  the  throne  of 
grace,  direct  my  trembling  aspirations  to  Jesus,  the 
friend  of  sinners  !  Let  pious  hands  close  my  eyes ! 
And  let  "  devout  men  carry  me,  like  Stephen,  to 
my  burial !" 

The  holy  Apostle  on  receiving  the  summons,  en- 
tered immediately  into  the  spirit  of  that  j)ious 
friendship  which  had  called  him,  and  followed  the 
messengers  without  delay.  When  he  came  to  the 
dwelling  which  had  been  lately  adorned  with  the 
piety  and  the  active  beneficence  of  Dorcas,  he 
found  her  lifeless  remains  lying  in  an  "  upper  cham- 


12  THE      PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

ber,"  and  surrounded  with  mourning  widows.  On 
his  entering  the  apartment,  they  gathered  about 
him,  "weeping,  and  shewing  the  coats  and  gar- 
ments which  Dorcas  had  made  while  she  was  with 
them."  It  is  probable,  from  the  tenor  of  the  narra- 
tive, that  these  pious  widows  had  been  themselves 
the  objects  of  her  alms-deeds  j  and  that  the  coats  and 
other  garments  with  which  they  were  then  clothed, 
had  been  made  by  the  hands,  and  bestowed  by  the 
bounty  of  their  deceased  benefactor.  These  they 
showed  to  the  apostle,  as  testimonies  of  her  benevo- 
lent character,  and  as  causes  for  lamenting  her 
departure.  Simple,  but  touching  and  eloquent 
eulogium  !  O  how  much  more  precious  to  the  in- 
genuous mind,  to  be  embalmed  in  the  memory  of 
the  virtuous  and  the  wise,  than  to  be  commemo- 
rated by  the  sculptured  marble,  or  the  massy 
pyramid  !  How  much  better  than  all  the  blaze  of 
heraldry,  or  "  pomp  of  j)ower,"  to  have  it  said  con- 
cerning us,  when  we  are  gone — "There  lies  one 
who  fed  me  when  I  was  hungry ;  who  clothed  me 
when  I  was  naked ;  who  enlightened  my  mind 
with  heavenly  knowledge,  and  pointed  to  me  the 
path  of  life  eternal." 

The  Apostle,  having  witnessed  these  tears,  and 
contemplated  these  memorials,  requested  the  mourn- 
ers to  withdraw,  that  he  might  avoid  all  appear- 
ance of  ostentation  in  the  miracle  which  he  was 
about  to  perform ;  and  that  he  might  with  more 
perfect  freedom  pour  out  his  soul  in  prayer. 
When  they  had  retired,  "he  kneeled  down  and 
prayed  ;  and,  turning  him  to  the  body,  said,  Tabi- 


SAMUEL      M  I  L  L  E  K,      D  .  D  .  13 

tlia,  arise.  Aud  she  opened  lier  eyes ;  and  when 
slie  saw  Peter  she  sat  up.  And  lie  gave  her  his 
hand,  and  lifted  her  up ;  and  when  he  had  called 
the  saints  and  widows,  he  presented  her  alive." 

Who  can  describe  the  surprise  and  joy  of  the 
attendants  at  seeing  their  amiable  friend  restored 
to  life  and  usefulness?  Above  all,  who  can  de- 
scribe the  mingled  emotions  of  regret  and  pleasure, 
which  must  have  filled  the  mind  of  Dorcas^  to  find 
herself  brought  back  to  a  world  which  she  had 
supposed  herself  to  have  for  ever  quitted;  and 
again  united  to  companions  whom  she  had  expected 
never  to  see  more  until  they  should  join  her  in  the 
paradise  of  God? — I  dare  not  attempt  the  task. 
Leaving,  therefore,  this  topic  of  meditation,  which, 
however  deeply  interesting,  cannot  subserve  any 
important  practical  purpose, — 

I  hasten  to  employ  the  examj)le  of  this  excellent 
woman  as  the  basis  of  some  very  brief  and  general 
remarks  on  the  a]^x^ropriate  duty  and  ornament  of 
tlie  Female  Sex. 

And  here  I  shall  not  stop  to  inquire,  w^hether 
the  native  character  of  the  female  mind  is,  in  all 
respects,  precisely  the  same  with  that  of  the  other 
sex.  Whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  on  this 
subject,  I  take  for  granted,  we  shall  all  agree,  that 
Women  ought  not  to  be  considered  as  destined  to 
the  same  employments  with  Men ;  and,  of  course, 
that  there  is  a  species  of  education,  and  a  s])here  of 
action,  which  more  particularly  belong  to  them. 
There  was  a  time,  indeed,  w^hen  a  very  difterent 
doctrine  had  many  advocates,  and  appeared  to  be 


14  THE      PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

growing  poj^ular : — viz.  tliat  in  conducting  educa- 
tion, and  in  selecting  employments,  all  distinctions 
of  sex  ought  to  be  forgotten  and  confounded ;  and 
that  females  are  as  well  fitted  to  fill  the  academic 
Chair,  to  shine  in  the  Senate,  to  adorn  the  Bench 
of  justice,  and  even  to  lead  the  train  of  War,  as 
the  more  hardy  sex.  This  delusion,  however,  is 
now  generally  discai'ded.  It  begins  to  be  perceived, 
that  the  God  of  nature  has  raised  everlasting  bar- 
riers against  such  wild  and  mischievous  speculations ; 
and  that  to  urge  them,  is  to  renounce  reason,  to  con- 
tradict ex])erience,  to  trample  on  the  divine  autho- 
rity, and  to  degrade  the  usefulness,  the  honor,  and 
the  real  enjoyments  of  the  female  sex. 

But  an  error  of  an  opposite  kind  has  gained  a 
lamentable  currency  in  the  world.  This  is,  that 
the  station  of  females  is  so  humble,  and  their  sphere 
of  duty  so  extremely  limited,  that  they  neither  can^ 
nor  ought  to  as23ii'e  to  extensive  usefulness.  This 
is  the  mistake  of  indolence,  or  of  false  humility ; 
and  is  as  plainly  contradicted  by  reason,  by  scrip- 
ture, and  by  experience,  as  the  extreme  before 
mentioned.  While  females  are  shut  out  by  the  ex- 
press authority  of  God  from  some  offices,  and  by 
the  common  sense  of  mankind  from  others ;  there 
is  yet  open  to  them  an  immense  field  for  the  most 
dignified  activity,  in  which  they  may  glorify  God, 
render  essential  service  to  society,  and  gain  ever- 
lasting honor  to  themselves. 

We  often  have  occasion,  from  the  sacred  desk, 
to  exhibit  in  contrast,  the  representations  of  scrip- 
ture, and  the  sentiments  of  a  depraved  world.     This 


SAMUEL      MILLEll,      D.I).  15 

contrast  seldom  appears  in  a  stronger  ligLt  than  it 
does  on  the  subject  of  AA'hich  we  are  now  speaking. 
In  the  codes  of  modern  infidelity  and  licentiousness, 
as  well  as  among  uncivilized  nations,  woman  is  ex- 
hibited as  the  mere  servile  instrument  of  conveni- 
ence or  pleasure.  In  the  volume  of  Revelation  she 
is  represented  as  the  equal,  the  companion,  and  the 
help-meet  of  man.  In  the  language  of  worldly 
taste,  a  fine  woman  is  one  who  is  distinguished  for 
her  personal  charms,  and  polite  accomplishments. 
In  the  language  of  Scripture,  she  is  the  enlightened 
and  virtuous  mistress  of  a  family,  and  the  useful 
member  of  society.  The  woman  who  is  formed  on 
the  princij)les  of  the  world,  finds  no  enjoyment  but 
in  the  circles  of  affluence,  ga^^ety,  and  fashion.  The 
woman  who  is  formed  on  the  principles  of  the 
Bible,  "  goeth  about  doing  good :  she  visiteth  the 
fatherless  and  the  widows  in  their  affliction:  she 
stretcheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  poor,  yea,  she 
reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy."  The  one 
dresses  with  elegance,  and  shines  in  the  dance :  the 
other  "opens  her  mouth  with  wisdom;  in  her 
tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness ;"  and  her  most  valued 
adorning  is  not  "  gold,  or  pearls,  or  costly  array ; 
but  good  works,  and  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spii'it."  The  hours  of  the  one  are  divided 
between  routs,  and  assemblies,  and  \asiting,  and 
theatres,  and  cards  :  the  other  "  looketh  well  to  the 
ways  of  her  household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of 
idleness."  "  The  business  of  the  one  is  pleasure  ; 
the  pleasure  of  the  other  is  business.  The  one  is 
admired  abroad :  the  other  is  beloved  and  honored 


16  THE      PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

at  home."  "Her  children  rise  up  and  call  her 
blessed;  her  husband  also,  and  he  praiseth  her. 
Favor  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain ;  but  a  woman 
that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised." 

From  these  representations  of  sacred  writ,  and 
from  many  others  of  similar  import,  it  is  manifest, 
that  the  ornament  and  the  duty  of  the  female  sex, 
are  as  appropriate  as  they  are  important :  and  that 
they  pertain  especially  to  the  relations  which  they 
bear  as  wives, — as  mothers, — as  domestic  compa- 
nions, and — as  members  of  society.  On  each  of 
these  relations,  an  extensive  field  of  inquiry  opens 
to  our  view ;  but  it  is  only  possible  to  take  a  very 
rapid  glance  at  each,  in  the  order  in  which  they 
have  been  mentioned. 

I.  How  interesting  and  important  are  the  duties 
devolved  on  females  as  wives  !  On  their  temper 
and  deportment,  more  than  those  of  any  other  indi- 
^dduals,  it  depends,  Tv^hether  their  husbands  be  hap- 
py or  miserable ;  whether  the  households  over 
which  they  preside  be  well  ordered  and  regular,  or 
neglected  and  wretched ;  whether  the  pro23erty  of 
their  partners  be  wisely  and  economically  applied, 
or  carelessly  and  ignobly  squandered ;  in  a  word, 
whether  peace,  affection,  order,  and  plenty,  reign  in 
their  dwellings,  or  waste,  confusion,  discord,  and 
alienation  disgrace  them.  Females  have  been  often 
honoured  with  the  title  of  angels.  If  it  be  ever 
proper  to  apply  such  an  appellation  to  a  daughter 
of  a  fallen  race,  there  is  surely  no  mortal  to  whom 
it  so  properly  applies,  as  a  prudent,  virtuous,  and 
amiable  wife,  the  counsellor  and  friend  of  her  hus- 


SAMUEL     MILLER,      D.D.  17 

band ;  who  makes  it  her  daily  study  to  lighten  his 
cares,  to  soothe  his  sorrows,  and  to  augment  his 
joys  ;  who,  like  a  guardian  angel,  watches  over  his 
interests,  warns  him  against  dangers,  comforts  him 
under  trials ;  and  by  her  pious,  assiduous,  and  at- 
tractive deportment,  constantly  endeavours  to  ren- 
der him  more  virtuous,  more  useful,  more  honored, 
and  more  happy.  The  blessings  which  such  a 
woman  is  capable  of  conferring  on  her  partner,  and 
through  him,  on  society,  are  more  numerous  and 
diversified  than  a  volume  would  be  sufficient  to 
display.  In  how  many  instances  have  we  known 
wives  of  this  character  become  the  means  of 
winning  their  unbelieving  husbands  to  the  obedi- 
ence of  the  faith  !  When  this  is  the  case,  who  can 
estimate  the  greatness  of  the  blessing  ?  Like  the 
light  of  day,  it  pours  its  benign  influence  upon  each 
member  of  the  favored  domestic  circle  ;  and  ever 
permanent  in  its  effects,  reaches  through  eternal 
ages. 

II.  No  less  numerous  and  weighty  are  the  duties 
devolved  on  females  as  mothers.  Children,  during 
the  first  years  of  their  lives,  are  necessarily  com- 
mitted almost  entirely  to  the  care  of  mothers.  And 
the  impressions  which  are  then  made  on  their  ten- 
der minds,  generally  decide  their  character  and 
destiny,  not  only  for  this  life,  but  also  for  that 
which  is  to  come.  In  that  soft  and  plastic  season, 
when  the  temper,  the  principles,  and  the  habits  are 
formed  ;  when  the  heart  is  deeply  impressed ;  when 
the  conscience  is  tender ;  when  the  whole  character 
is  ductile ;  when  almost  every  thing  but  the  rege- 


18  TUE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

neration  of  tlie  heart  may  be  said  to  be  witliiii  tlie 
power  of  a  parent  to  bestow  ;  and  wlien  even  tlie 
attainment  of  this  greatest  of  all  gifts  has  a  closer 
connexion  with  parental  faithfulness  than  is  gene- 
rally imagined — this  is,  emphatically,  the  period  of 
the  maternal  empire.  Her's  is  the  delightful,  the 
all-important  task,  to  watch  over  the  infant  years 
of  her  offspring ;  to  guard  them  from  the  thousand 
dangers  to  which  they  are  exposed ;  to  form  a 
sound  mind  in  a  sound  body ;  to  whisper  in  their 
listening  ears,  the  sentiments  of  virtue  and  piety ; 
and  to  prepare  them  for  living  to  God,  to  their 
country,  and  to  themselves. 

On  this  ground,  I  have  no  scruple  in  avowing 
my  conviction,  that,  in  the  whole  business  of  edu- 
cation, tlie  oiiotJier  is  the  more  imrportant ixirent.  It 
may,  perhaps,  without  extravagance,  be  said,  that 
to  the  female  sex  pre-eminently  belongs  the  might}^ 
task,  so  far  as  it  depends  on  human  agency,  of 
forming  the  heads  and  hearts  of  the  great  mass  of 
mankind.  To  them  it  belongs  to  render  their 
families  the  nurseries  either  of  heaven  or  of  hell. 
Their  enlightened  fidelity  or  their  criminal  negli- 
gence, will,  under  God,  decide  the  character  of 
those  future  citizens,  on  whose  virtues  the  whole 
interests  of  the  commonwealth  will  depend ;  of 
those  legislators  on  whose  wisdom  the  character  of 
our  laws  must  rest;  of  those  magistrates,  with 
whose  learning  and  correct  principles  the  whole 
fabric  of  public  justice  must  stand  or  fall ;  and  of 
those  ministers  of  the  gospel,  on  whose  orthodox^'' 
and  piety  the  salvation  of  millions,  speaking  after 


SAMUEL     5IILLEE,      D.D.  10 

tlie  manner  of  men,  may  be  suspended.  It  is  tluis 
that  maternal  faitlifulness  or  negligence  goes  to  the 
root  of  social  happiness.  It  is  thus  that  mothers 
may  be  the  means  of  transmitting  blessings  or 
calamities,  of  incalculable  extent,  to  distant  gene- 
rations. 

III.  Every  domestic  Telation  which  females  sus- 
tain, may  be  considered  as  opening  to  them  an  ap- 
propriate and  important  sphere  of  duty.  Great 
and  permanent  usefulness  in  domestic  life  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  wives  and  mothers.  The  female 
who  sustains  neither  of  these  honorable  and  inter- 
esting relations,  may  yet  be  eminently  useful.  Ho^^ 
much  may  every  dauglder^  by  uniformly  dutiful 
and  affectionate  conduct  towards  her  parents,  pro- 
mote the  happiness  of  the  whole  household  to 
which  she  belongs  ;  and  by  her  example  contribute 
to  the  improvement  of  all  around  her!  How 
much  solid  good  may  every  sister  daily  accomplish, 
l)y  diligently  employing  her  talents,  in  assisting  to 
educate  her  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  in  pro- 
moting the  regularity,  order,  and  comfort  of  the 
family  of  which  she  is  a  member,  and  in  recom- 
mending at  once,  by  her  whole  deportment,  the 
wisdom  of  economy,  the  sweetness  of  benevolence, 
and  the  purity  of  holiness  !  Nay,  how  much  may 
every  female  servant  contribute  to  the  advantage 
of  the  family  in  which  her  lot  is  cast !  It  was  a 
little  maid  in  the  house  of  Naaman^  the  Syrian, 
that  directed  her  master  to  the  prophet  of  the 
Lord,  by  whom  his  lej^rosy  was  healed,  and  by 
whose  ministry  he  became  a  convert  to  the  true 


20  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

religion.  And  were  the  liistory  of  many  families 
laid  open  to  our  view,  how  often  should  we  see  the 
pious  language  and  holy  example  of  some  inferior 
domestic  made  a  blessing  to  more  than  one  of  those 
whom  she  served  ! 

Every  female,  then,  who,  in  whatever  capacity, 
makes  a  part  of  any  domestic  establishment,  whe- 
ther she  preside  as  its  head,  or  serve  as  its  humblest 
menial,  has  it  in  her  power  to  do  good,  to  an  ex- 
tent which  it  is  the  prerogative  of  Omniscience 
alone  to  estimate.  She  has  means  and  opportuni- 
ties of  usefulness  peculiar  to  her  sex  and  station — 
Means  and  opportunities  which,  if  faithfully  im- 
proved, cannot  fail,  according  to  the  Divine  pro- 
mise, to  produce  a  rich  result  of  blessing.  The 
tongue  of  eloquence,  indeed,  may  never  pronounce 
her  eulogium,  nor  the  pen  of  history  record  her 
deeds.  But  in  the  "  heraldry  of  heaven,"  in  which 
to  be  good  is  better  than  to  be  great^  and  to  be 
nseful  is  better  than  to  sliine^  she  may  hold  a  place 
more  illustrious  and  honorable  than  many  of  those 
who  have  wielded  the  sceptre  of  empire,  and  filled 
the  world  with  the  thunder  of  their  fame. 

IV.  Females  have  set  before  them  a  wide  and 
appropriate  field  of  useful  activity,  as  members  of 
society.  Let  no  woman  imagine  that  she  has 
nothing  to  do  beyond  the  sphere  of  her  own  house- 
hold. In  every  walk,  and  in  every  hour  of  life, 
she  may  be  contributing  something  to  the  purity, 
the  order,  and  the  happiness  of  the  community  to 
which  she  belongs.  The  influence  of  the  female 
character  in  forming  public  taste,  and  public  man- 


SAMUEL     MIL  LEE,      D.D.  21 

ners,  is  incalculable.  It  has  been  felt  and  acknow- 
ledged in  all  ages.  Of  this  influence,  every  woman, 
whatever  be  her  talents  or  her  station,  possesses  a 
share  ;  and  by  her  whole  deportment  is  conferring 
either  a  benefit  or  an  injury  on  society.  It  is  in 
the  power  of  women,  by  constantly  exhibiting  the 
dignity  of  virtue,  and  the  attractions  of  piety,  to 
repress  the  impertinence,  to  polish  the  roughness, 
and  to  frown  out  of  sight,  and,  in  many  instances, 
out  of  existence,  the  vices  of  the  other  sex.  It  is 
in  the  power  of  women,  by  example  and  by  pre- 
cept, to  regulate  at  pleasure  the  decorums  of  dress, 
the  purity  of  manners,  and  all  the  habits,  of  the 
younger  and  more  inexperienced  part  of  their  own 
sex.  In  short,  it  is  in  the  power  of  women,  to  an 
extent  of  which  few  of  them  seem  to  be  aware,  to 
discountenance  and  banish  those  pernicious  cus- 
toms which,  from  time  to  time,  display  their  hydra 
forms  in  society,  and  to  exercise  a  most  efficient 
guardianship  over  public  taste  and  virtue.  No 
false  sentiments  can  have  much  prevalence  against 
which  tliey  resolutely  set  their  faces.  No  corrupt 
practices  can  be  general  or  popular  which  they  are 
willing  to  expel  from  society. 

"  Human  happiness,"  says  a  modern  writer,  "  is 
on  the  whole,  much  less  affected  by  great,  but  un- 
frequent  events,  whether  of  prosperity  or  of  ad- 
versity, of  benefit  or  of  injury,  than  by  small  but 
perpetually  recurring  incidents  of  good  or  evil. 
The  manner  in  which  the  influence  of  the  female 
character  is  felt,  belongs  to  the  latter  description. 
It  is  not  like  the  periodical  inundation  of  a  river. 


22  THE      PEIjS'CETON      PULPIT. 

which,  once  in  a  year,  overspreads  a  desert  with 
transient  plenty.  It  is  like  the  dew  of  heaven, 
which  descends  at  all  seasons,  returns  after  short 
intervals,  and  permanently  nourishes  every  herb  of 
the  field."'^' 

To  the  female  sex  also  properly  appertains  a 
large  portion  of  those  offices  of  cliarity^  to  which 
we  are  constantly  called.  To  feed  the  hungry,  and 
clothe  the  naked ;  to  "  weep  with  them  that  weej) ;" 
to  soften  the  bed  of  sickness,  and  to  wipe  aAvay 
the  tears  of  sorrow,  are  duties  incumbent  upon  us 
all.  But  they  belong  more  particularly  to  the  ten- 
der sex.  They  are  best  acquainted  with  domestic 
wants.  They  are  the  best  judges  of  domestic  cha- 
racter. They  have  more  sympathy,  more  tender- 
ness, more  leisure,  and  more  patience  than  men ; 
and,  on  a  variety  of  accounts,  are  more  capable  of 
performing  these  duties  with  ease  to  themselves  , 
and  with  advantage  to  the  objects  of  their  charity. 

Here  is  surely  enough  to  excite  all  the  ambition, 
and  to  employ  all  the  talents  of  a  reasonable  mind. 
What  though  females  cannot  stand  in  the  sacred 
Desk,  nor  sit  on  the  Bench  of  justice  ?  What 
though  they  cannot  be  employed  in  framing  laws, 
nor  in  conducting  diplomatic  missions,  nor  in  or- 
ganizing or  governing  nations  ?  They  can  contri- 
bute more  by  their  virtues  and  their  influence  to 
bind  society  together,  than  all  the  laws  that  legis- 
lators ever  formed.  They  are  called  to  duties 
which  are  not  only  worthy  of  the  most  exalted 
powers ;  but  which  have  this  pre-eminent  advan- 

*  Gisborne.     Duties  of  the  Female  Sex,  p.  8. 


SAMUEL     MILLER,      D.D.  23 

tage,  that,  A\liile  tliey  are  immediately  calculated 
to  meliorate  the  hearts  of  those  who  perform  them, 
they  also  tend  to  refine  and  elevate  the  human 
character  in  general,  and  to  render  earth  more  like 
the  paradise  of  God. 

1.  Let  me  apply  this  subject,  by  inferring  from 
what  has  been  said,  the  wispeakaUe  imporUmce  of 
female  education.  If  the  female  character  be  so 
important,  then  the  formation  of  that  character 
must  be  equally  so.  If  education  in  general  lie  at 
the  foundation  of  individual,  domestic,  and  national 
happiness,  this  is  especially  the  case  with  female 
education.  It  is  a  concern  in  which  the  highest 
interests  of  mankind  are  at  stake.  It  involves  the 
vital  principle  of  social  welfare.  And  according  as 
it  is  attended  to  or  neglected  ;  according  as  it  is 
wisely  or  erroneously  pursued,  will  public  and  pri- 
vate happiness  be  nourished  or  poisoned  at  its  root. 
Upon  the  education  of  woman  it  depends,  under 
God,  whether  she  shall  be  the  most  useful,  or  the 
most  mischievous  of  mortals  ;  whether  she  shall  be 
the  most  invaluable  blessing  of  human  society,  or 
"the  most  dreadful  scourge  of  Almighty  visita- 
tion."'— Solemn  thought !  How  deeply  ought  the 
subject  to  engage  the  attention,  to  interest  the 
heart,  to  excite  the  j^rayers,  and  to  animate  the 
diligence  of  every  parent ! 

We  are,  perhaps,  wiser  than  our  fathers,  in  hav- 
ing learned  to  appreciate  more  justly  than  they 
did,  the  talents  of  women,  and  in  devising  plans  of 
education  better  fitted  to  develope  and  improve 
these  talents.     But  I  am  afraid  we  fall  below  our 


24  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

venerable  predecessors,  in  cultivating  the  moral 
and  religious  character  of  females,  and  in  fitting 
tliem  for  some  of  the  more  useful  and  important 
duties  of  their  sex.  'V\Tien  we  learn  generally  to 
correct  this  error ;  when  we  teach  our  daughters 
properly  to  estimate  their  true  dignity,  and  dili- 
gently to  pursue  their  real  happiness ;  when  we 
persuade  them  to  reflect,  that  education  consists, 
not  in  the  acquisition  of  dazzling  and  meretricious 
arts  ;  but  in  preparing  themselves  to  be  respectable 
and  useful  as  wives,  mothers,  members  of  society, 
and  Christians — then,  and  not  till  then,  may  we  hope 
to  see  the  moral  character  of  society  raised,  and  the 
real  importance  of  the  female  sex  more  justly  esti- 
mated, and  more  duly  honored. 

2.  Allow  me  to  apply  this  subject  by  recommend- 
mg  the  cliaracter  wMcli  has  been  drawn  to  the  studi- 
ous imitation  of  the  female  pm^t  of  my  audience^  and 
especially  of  the  younger  class.  Contracted  in  its 
extent,  and  feeble  in  its  outline,  as  is  the  sketch 
which  I  have  attempted  to  exhibit,  believe  me,  it  is 
worthy  of  your  attention.  It  is  a  character  which 
involves  the  highest  honor,  and  which  embraces  its 
own  reward.  In  recommending  it  to  your  imita- 
tion, therefore,  I  am  pleading  the  cause  of  your 
own  elevation  and  happiness,  as  well  as  the  cause 
of  God,  and  the  cause  of  mankind. 

My  young  female  friends !  it  ought  to  be  your 
ambition  to  possess  and  to  evince  a  sound  under- 
standing, and  a  respectable  portion  of  literary  know- 
ledge.    All  that  has  been  said,  serves  to  show  that 


S  A  31  U  E  L      M  I  L  L  E  R  ,    D  .  D  .  25 

the  cultivation  of  female  intellect  is  as  important, 
and  as  necessary,  as  the  intellectual  culture  of  the 
other  sex.  But  it  ought  to  be  more  esjyecialhj  your 
ambition,  to  cultivate  your  he'arts.  The  Heart — I 
repeat  it — the  Hearty  sanctified  by  religion,  warm- 
ed and  softened  by  benevolence,  and  taught  to 
throb  in  affectionate  response  to  every  sigh  of  suf- 
fering, and  every  claim  of  humanity, — this  is  the 
grand  ornament  of  Woman — this  is  the  strong- 
hold of  AVoman.  To  be  so  many  Tahithas^  adorn- 
ing the  doctrine  of  God,  your  Sa\'iour,  and  diffus- 
ing happiness  among  all  around  you,  would  be  in- 
finitely more  to  your  honor  as  well  as  your  com- 
fort, even  in  the  present  life,  than  to  stand  in  tlic 
list  of  those  masculine  females,  who,  while  they  gain 
a  proud  civil  pre-eminence,  really  disgrace  their 
sex. 

When,  therefore,  I  see  a  young  female  devoting 
her  supreme  attention  to  external  accomplishments  ; 
absorbed  in  the  love  of  ornament,  and  of  admiration : 
habitually  venturing,  in  obedience  to  fashion,  to  the 
"  very  verge  of  decorum ;"  never  satisfied  but  when 
either  preparing  for  the  splendor  of  a  public  ap- 
pearance, or  discussing  the  merits  of  a  past  exhibi- 
tion— I  say  within  myself — The  hand  of  some  in- 
fatuated parent,  or  of  some  incompetent  or  unfaith- 
ful guardian,  is  here.  What  perversion  of  talents  ! 
What  misapplication  of  exertions  !  What  waste  of 
time  !  What  pains  to  treasure  up  sorrow  and  tears 
for  after  life  !  How  much  more  attractive  would 
be  that  fiiir  form,  were  it  employed  in  works  of 
charity,  and  more  frequently  seen  bending  over  the 
3 


26  THE     PEINCETOJSr      PULPIT. 

coucli  of  poverty  and  sufFering  !  How  mucli  more 
lieaiitiful  would  be  tliat  lovely  face,  were  it  habi- 
tually beaming  witli  benevolence  and  piety  !  And 
how  unspeakably  more  liaj)py,  and  more  respect- 
able Its  possessor,  if  the  cultivation  of  her  heart, 
and  the  employment  of  her  time,  on  evangelical 
principles,  were  the  great  object  of  her  care  ! 

3.  This  sul^ject  may  with  propriety  be  employed 
to  encourage  and  animate  tlwse  ivlio  are  engaged  in 
Female  CliaritaUe  Associations.  These  Associa- 
tions are  an  honor  to  their  founders  and  members 
— an  honor  to  our  holy  religion — an  honor  to  all 
who  contribute  to  their  support : — and  I  will  add, 
that  the  period  which  gave  them  birth,  cannot  fail 
of  being  \dewed  hereafter,  as  a  grand  aera  in  the 
history  of  the  female  sex,  and  of  mankind.  When 
females  are  thus  associated,  and  thus  employed, 
they  are  pre-eminently  acting  in  character.  They 
are  mo\^ug  in  a  sphere  which  is  peculiarly  their 
own.  Their  exertions  are  calculated  not  merely  to 
.  relieve  present  distress,  but  to  improve  the  condi- 
tion of  society,  to  cultivate  their  own  hearts,  and 
to  confer  l)lessings  on  generations  yet  unborn. 
Were  the  tendency  and  the  benefits  of  such  asso- 
ciations properly  estimated,  surely  every  female 
w^ould  be  ambitious  to  become  a  member  of  them  ; 
and  every  good  citizen  would  consider  it,  at  once, 
as  his  privilege  and  his  ol)ligation,  to  be  the  friend 
and  the  patron  of  their  labors. 

Members  of  such  associations  !  "  be  not  weary  in 
well  doing."  Your  task  is  arduous  ;  but  it  is  still 
more  deliirhtful,  and  shall  "  in  no  wise  lose  its  re- 


SAMUEL     M  I  L  L  J-:  K  ,    D  .    P  .  27 

ward" — a  reward  more  ricli,  and  more  glorious  tlum 
a  conqueror's  crown.  How  exquisite  tlie  pleasure 
Avliicli  is  attendant  on  a  course  of  benevolent  ex- 
ertions, and  on  witnessing  their  fruits  in  tlie  pro- 
duction of  human  happiness.  "  What  is  there  in 
all  the  pageantry  of  state,  in  all  the  gratifications 
of  sense,  in  all  the  delirious  joys  of  giddy  dissipa- 
tion, once  to  be  compared  with  this  ?  O  pleasures, 
cheaply  purchased,  placidly  enjoyed  ;  ever  rising, 
ever  new ;  never  languid,  never  remc^rseful,  why 
are  you  pursued  so  seldom,  and  attained  by  so 
few  ?"* 

In  conclusion,  let  me  say  to  all,  ''  the  time  is 
short,  and  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.'' 
Like  Dorcas^  we  all  must  soon  sicken  and  die.  Are 
we  habitually  anticipating  the  solemnities  of  that 
hour  ?  Are  we  daily  directing  our  pursuits,  em- 
ploying our  property,  and  framing  our  lives,  agre^ 
ably  to  this  anticipation  ?  Do  we  resemble  the 
excellent  Woman,  on  whose  example  we  have  been 
meditating,  in  our  character  and  hopes,  as  well  as 
in  our  mortality  ?  We  cannot  resemble  her,  un- 
less we  are  disciples  indeed.  We  may  "  give  all 
our  goods  to  feed  the  poor,"  and  "  our  bodies  to  be 
burned,"  and  yet  be  nothing  more  than  "  a  sound- 
ing brass,  and  a  tinkling  cymbal."  But  those  deeds 
of  charity  which  spring  from  a  living  faith  in  a 
li^dng  Redeemer ;  those  works  of  obedience  wliicli 
are  performed  from  a  principle  of  love  for  his  name  ; 
— these  are  "  the  good  works,  and  the  alms-deeds," 
which  shed  a  lustre  around  the  bed  of  death,  and 

*  Hunter's  Occasional  Sermons,  II.  p.  140. 


28  THE      P  K  I  X  C  E  T  O  N      PULPIT. 

upon  wliicli,  iu  n  dying  liour,  we  may  look  back 
with  koly  satisftiction,  witli  lieavenly  joy  : — not  as 
tlie  ground  of  our  confidence  ;  not  as  the  price  of 
])ardon  ;  not  as  our  title  to  everlasting  life  ; — no  ; 
the  righteousness  of  "  Him,  who,  through  the  eter- 
nal Spirit,  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God,"  is 
the  only  foundation  of  a  sinner's  hope  : — but  as 
means  by  which  a  Divine  Saviour  has  enabled  us. 
to  glorify  the  riches  of  his  grace ;  as  the  fruits  of 
his  blessed  Spirit ;  as  evidences  of  a  vital  union  to 
his  body  ;  and  as  pledges  of  admission  to  the  glories 
of  his  presence. 

May  that  God,  who  has  declared  himself  the 
"  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  the  Judge  of  the 
widow,  in  his  lioly  habitation,"  fill  us  all  with  the 
spirit  and  the  consolations  of  his  children,  enable 
us  to  imitate  his  holy  benevolence,  and  prepare  us, 
in  due  time,  for  his  heavenly  kingdom  !  And  to 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  one  God,  be  all  the 
praise,  both  now  and  ever  !     Amen  ! 


RIGHTLY   DIVIDING    THE   WORD   OF   TRUTH. 

BY 

THE  REV.  ARCHIBALD  ALEXANDER.  D.  D. 

PEOFESSOK  OF   TITEOLOQY. 


A  Sermon  preached  in  Duane  Street  Church,  New  Yorh,  on 
the  third  day  of  October,  1844,  at  the  installation  of  the 
pastor*, 

"  Stud}'  to  show  thyself  approved  unto  God,  a  workman  that  needeth  not 
to  be  ashantied,  rightly  dividing  the  word  of  Truth." — 2  Tim.  ii.  15. 

Some  parts  of  Holy  Scripture  seem  not  at  any 
time  to  liave  received  as  mucli  attention  as  tlieir 
importance  merits,  nor  as  much  as  is  given  to  otlier 
jiassages,  of  no  greater  moment.  As  an  example 
of  wliat  is  liere  asserted,  may  be  adduced  tlie 
solemn  admonition  of  Paul,  in  tlie  verse  immedi- 
ately preceding  tlie  text,  in  wliieli  lie  directs  Timo- 
thy to  charge  the  preachers  over  whom  he  had 
superintendence,  (and  of  course  all),  "  before  the 
Lord,  that  they  strive  not  about  words  to  no  profit, 
but  to  the  subverting  of  the  hearers."  Mere  logo- 
machies, or  contentions  about  words,  have  been 
productive  of  incalculable  mischief  in  the  Church 
of   God.     These  unprofitable  disputes  among  the 

"  This  discourse  was  not  prepared  for  the  press,  but  has  been  furnished 
by  a  member  of  the  author's  family  from  his  posthumous  manuscripts. 


30  THE      PKINCETON      PULPIT. 

professed  followers  of  Christ,  have  not  only  un- 
settled and  subverted  the  minds  of  many  within 
the  pale  of  the  Church,  l3nt  have  been  the  occasion 
of  deep-rooted  prejudice  in  those  who  were  with- 
out ;  by  which  their  conversion  has  in  many  cases 
been  prevented  or  hindered.  It  has  long  been 
remarked,  that  no  spirit  is  more  pungent  and  bit- 
ter than  that  of  theoloo^ians  in  their  contentions 
with  one  another  ;  and  it  has  often  happened,  that 
the  less  the  difference,  the  more  \drulent  the  acri- 
mony. When  the  controversy  relates  merely,  or 
principally,  to  words,  the  strife  is  more  obstinate 
than  when  it  relates  to  things,  for  in  that  case  both 
parties  may  be  in  the  right. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  must  the  servant  of  God 
yield  the  truth  to  any  one  who  chooses  to  impugn 
it,  or  is  he  at  liberty  to  make  a  compromise  with 
error  for  the  sake  of  peace  ?  I  answer,  by  no 
means.  He  is  bound  to  contend  for  the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  saints,  and  to  hold  fast  the 
form  of  sound  words  which  he  has  received.  Con- 
troversy will  be  necessary  so  long  as  error  exists, 
but  two  things  are  strictly  forbidden :  first,  unpro- 
fitable contention,  the  tendency  of  which  is  "  to 
subvert  the  hearers  ;"  and,  secondly,  angry  conten- 
tion, for  "  the  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive, 
but  be  gentle  to  all  men."  No  man  has  a  right  to 
compromise  a  single  truth,  for  this  is  the  sacr^ 
deposit  which  he,  in  common  with  other  ministers, 
holds  for  the  edification  of  the  Church  ;  and  which 
they  are  bound  to  commit  to  other  faithful  men,  to 
be  transmitted  to  those  who  mav  come  after  them- 


A.     ALEXA^S^DEK,      D.D.  31 

It  is  not  our  duty  to  enter  into  controversy  witli 
all  those  who  may  differ  from  us  in  matters  not 
fundamental.  "  Him  that  is  weak  in  the  faith  re- 
ceive ye,  but  not  to  doubtful  disputations."  "  For 
one  believeth  that  he  may  eat  all  things  ;  another, 
who  is  weak,  eatetli  herbs.  Let  not  him  that 
eateth  despise  him  that  eateth  not ;  and  let  not 
him  that  eateth  not  judge  him  that  eateth,  for 
God  hath  received  him.  Let  every  man  be  fully 
persuaded  in  his  own  mind."  In  all  such  cases,  if 
God's  glory  be  the  end,  the  person  will  be  ac- 
cepted, although  he  may  be  in  tri^dal  error.  To 
seek  the  honor  and  glory  of  God,  is  the  grand  cha- 
racteristic of  all  true  Christians.  "  For  none  of  us 
liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself. 
For  whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord  ;  and 
whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord ;  whether 
we  live,  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's." 

In  our  text,  Timothy  is  exhorted  "  to  approve 
himself  to  God  as  a  workman  ;"  this  term  carries 
mth  it  the  idea  of  skill  in  his  calling.  He  cannot 
with  propriety  be  called  a  workman  who  under- 
takes a  business  which  he  knows  not  how  to  exe- 
cute. At  any  rate,  the  "  workman  wdio  needetli 
not  to  be  ashamed,"  must  be  skilled  in  what 
relates  to  his  profession.  Two  sorts  of  men 
should,  therefore,  be  excluded  from  the  gospel 
ministry :  first,  those  who  will  not  work ;  se- 
condly, those  who  know  not  how  to  perform 
their  work  aright.  Any  man  who  fails  in  either 
of  these  particulars,  will  l)ring  shame  upon  him- 
self     It    appears    to   be   implied    that    peculiar 


o2  THE      P  E  I  X  C  E  T  O  X      PULPIT. 

wisdom  is  requisite  in  discliarging  tlie  duties  of 
this  office,  for  it  is  added,  "  riglitly  dividing  the 
word  of  truth."  Accurate  discrimination  is  here 
evidently  required.  Not  every  ignorant  declaimer 
is  capal  )le  of  doing  tliis.  He  who  would  "  rightly 
divide  the  word  of  truth"  must,  unless  he  he  in- 
spired, diligently  and  for  a  long  time  study  the 
Bible.  He  should  study  it  with  all  the  aids  which 
can  be  obtained,  human  and  divine.  The  body 
cannot  be  dissected  by  one  who  has  never  studied 
anatomy,  and  it  would  be  reckoned  great  presump- 
tion in  an  ignorant  person  to  undertake  to  perform 
the  most  difficult  surgical  opei^ation.  His  motives 
might  be  good,  and  he  might  be  persuaded  that  he 
was  doing  a  good  thing,  but  that  would  not  alter 
the  nature  of  the  case,  nor  render  quackery  the 
less  dangerous.  Such  a  man  could  not  riglitly 
divide^  or  dissect  the  parts,  so  as  to  do  no  injury  to 
the  vital  organs.  But  does  it  not  argue  greater 
presumption,  for  ignorant  men  to  thrust  themselves 
into  the  office  of  the  holy  ministry  ?  Is  it  true 
that  this  is  a  work  which  can  Ije  performed  with- 
out learning  ?  Or  that  little  danger  is  to  be  ap- 
prehended from  the  mistakes  into  which  unskilful 
workmen  may  fall  ?  We  shall  be  better  able  to 
answer  these  questions,  when  we  have  considered 
what  is  requisite  in  "  I'ightly  dividing  the  word  of 
truth,"  wdiich  is  the  single  object  which  it  is  pro- 
posed to  keep  in  view  in  the  remainder  of  this  dis- 
course. 

Truth  is  of  various  kinds — physical,  mathemati- 
cal, moral,   <fcc. ;  but  here  one  particular  kind  of 


A.     ALEXANDER,      D.D.  33 

trntli  is  referred  to,  called  tlie  word  of  truth — 
that  is,  the  truth  of  the  Word  of  God — the  truth 
of  divine  revelation — theological  truth.  The 
Bible  was  not  given  to  teach  men  philosophy,  or 
the  arts  which  have  respect  to  tliis  life  ;  its  object 
is  to  teach  the  true  knowledge  of  God,  and  the 
true  and  only  method  of  salvation.  I  might  here 
spend  time  in  showing  how  much  preparatory 
learning  and  study  are  requisite  to  such  a  know- 
ledge of  the  Bible  as  he  ought  to  possess,  who 
undertakes  to  be  an  expositor  of  its  truth.  But  I 
will  pass  all  this  over,  as  sufficiently  evident,  and 
proceed  to  make  some  observations  on  the  im- 
portant duty  of  "  rightly  dividing  the  word  of 
truth." 

1.  The  truths  of  God's  Word  must  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  error.  Light  and  darkness  are 
not  more  opposite  than  truth  and  error.  In  some 
cases,  error  comes  forth  into  the  oj)en  light  of  day, 
in  its  native  deformity,  avowing  its  hostility  to 
the  word  of  God,  and  professing  it  as  its  object  to 
subvert  the  Holy  Scriptures,  under  the  pretext  of 
delivering  the  world  from  bondage,  and  obtaining 
liberty  for  men  to  live  as  they  list.  With  regard 
to  this  species  of  error,  there  is  no  need  of  much 
skill  to  run  the  line  of  division  between  it  and 
truth.  Every  honest  mind  can  at  once  perceive 
the  wide  difference ;  and,  as  for  those  who  have 
pleasure  in  unrighteousness,  it  is  often  the  judg- 
ment which  they  incur  from  a  just  God.  It  has 
often  been  observed,  that  infidels  are  as  incapable 
oi  p&rceiving  as  of  loving  the  truth.     But  some- 


34  THE     PEINCETOI^     PULPIT. 

times  error  assumes  tlie  garb,  and  uses  tlie  lan- 
guage of  trutli.     Satan  himself  is  transformed  into 
an  angel  of  liglit ;  no  marvel,  therefore,  that  error 
and  falsehood   should   wear   a   disguise  fitted   to 
deceive  the  unwary,  and,  if  it  were  possible,  the 
very  elect.     In  all  ages  of  the  world,  false  teachers 
have  existed,  and  often  abounded.    False  Apostles, 
false  prophets,  deceitful  workers,  have  ever  been 
the  pests  of  the  Church  of  God,  under  every  dis- 
pensation.    And  the  earth  is  still  inundated  with 
floods  of  error.     Through  pride  and  licentiousness, 
men  of  corrupt  minds  still  endeavor  insidiously  to 
sap  the  foundation  of  Gospel  truth ;  the  time  is 
come  when  many  will  not  endure  sound  doctrine. 
Here  the  skilful  workman  must  be  on  the  alert. 
Here  all  his  wisdom  must  be  put  in  requisition,  to 
detect,  expose,  and  refute  every  form  of  error  and 
heresy  which  may  arise.     By  his  skill,  fidelity,  and 
vigilance,  the  tender  flock  of  Christ  must  be  pre- 
served from  "wolves  in  sheep's  clothing."     By  a 
clear  exhiljition  of  Gospel  truth,  on  all  the  impor- 
tant points  of  religion,  the  people  should  be  so  in- 
structed, and  so  imbued  with  the  truth,  that  error 
shall  make  no  impression  on  them.     Error  is  a 
creeping  pestilence  ;  no  error  can  promote  holiness. 
The  connection  between  truth  and  holiness  is  most 
intimate  and  indissoluble.      • 

2.  But  it  is  necessary  to  divide  the  truth  not 
only  from  error,  but  from  philosophy,  and  mere 
human  opinions  and  speculations.  Many  who  do 
not  reject  the  truth,  yet  so  cover  her  with  robes  of 
their  own  weaving,  that  she  cannot  be  seen  in  her 


A.      ALEXANDER,      P.D.  35 

lovely  simplicity.  They  are  forever  connecting; 
witli  tlie  doctrines  of  God's  Word,  tlieir  own  wire- 
dnnvn  and  uncertain  speculations.  We  have  too 
much  metaphysical  reasoning  in  our  theology.  The 
truth  of  God  is  not  illustrated  by  such  methods  ; 
it  is  rather  obscured  and  adulterated.  Thus,  it 
often  happens,  that  a  sermon  contains  very  little 
Scripture  truth.  After  the  text  is  uttered,  the 
preacher  lias  done  with  the  Bible,  and  the  hearers 
are  fed,  or  rather  starved,  by  some  abstruse  discus- 
sion of  a  subject,  not  treated  of  in  the  word  of 
God ;  or  which  is  there  taken  for  granted  as  a 
thing  which  requires  no  discussion,  or  which  is 
above  the  human  intellect.  Now,  whether  these 
speculations  are  true  or  false,  is  of  little  conse- 
quence ;  for  they  serve  neither  to  confirm  our  faith, 
nor  to  strengthen  our  love  to  God  and  man.  This 
Ls  not  the  pure  wheat  of  the  divine  word ;  it  is 
chaft',  and  "  what  is  the  chaff  to  the  wheat  ?"  This 
is  not  rightly  to  di\T[de  the  word  of  truth.  The 
spiritual  workman  must  take  pains  to  separate  the 
word  of  God  from  all  admixture  of  mere  human 
philosophy,  and  metaphysical  speculation.  It  is 
the  "  sincere  milk  of  the  Word"  after  which  the 
new-born  child  of  grace  thirsts,  and  by  which  he 
grows. 

3.  The  skilful  workman  must  be  able  to  distin- 
guish between  fundamental  truths,  and  such  as  are 
not  fundamental.  All  Bible  truth  is  important, 
and  no  part  to  be  rejected  or  neglected.  But  some 
truths  must  be  known  and  believed,  or  the  person 
cannot  be  saved ;    while  there   are   other   truths 


36  THE     PEINCETOF     PULPIT. 

wliicli  true  Christians  may  be  ignorant  of,  and 
wliile  ignorant  may  deny.  Tliere  are  two  grand 
marks  of  fundamental  doctrine.  1.  That  the  de- 
nial of  them  destroys  the  system.  2.  That  the 
knowledge  of  them  is  essential  to  piety.  All  truth 
is  essential  to  the  perfection  of  the  system ;  funda- 
mental truths,  to  its  existence. 

4.  Rightly  to  divide  the  word  of  truth,  we  must 
arrange  it  in  such  order,  as  that  it  may  be  most 
easily  and  effectually  understood.  In  every  sys- 
tem some  things  stand  in  the  place  oi 'principles^  on 
which  the  rest  are  built.  He  who  would  l^e  a  skil- 
ful workman  in  God's  building,  must  take  much 
pains  with  the  foundation  ;  but  he  must  not  dwell 
forever  on  the  first  principles  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ,  but  should  endeavor  to  lead  his  people  on 
to  perfection  in  the  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

5.  A  good  workman  will  so  divide  the  word  of 
truth,  as  clearly  to  distinguish  between  the  law 
AND  THE  Gospel;  between  tlie  covenant  of  worlds 
and  tlie  covenant  of  grace.  No  mistakes  in  religion 
have  been  more  frequent  or  more  fatal,  than  those 
which  relate  to  the  terms  of  a  sinner's  accej^tance 
with  God,  or  the  true  method  of  justification. 
These  mistakes  are  the  more  to  be  dreaded,  because 
they  seem  to  have  the  sanction  of  reason,  which 
dictates  that  a  just  God  will  treat  men  according  to 
their  works.  Upon  a  superficial  view,  it  would 
seem  as  if  the  doctrine  of  grace,  or  justification  by 
faith  alone,  was  unfriendly  to  holiness.  More  than 
one-half  of  the  Christain  world,  therefore,  are  mis- 
led by  error,  laore  or  less  dangerous,  on  this  point 


A.      ALEXANDER,      D.D.  37 

of  vital  importance.  Some  are  so  blinded  to  tlie 
deficiencies  of  their  own  righteousness,  that  they 
place  their  whole  dependence  on  their  own  good 
deeds  :  while  others  are  willing  to  compromise  the 
matter,  and  if  their  own  merit  may  be  permitted 
to  come  in  for  a  principal  share  in  the  honor  of 
their  salvation,  they  are  willing  that  Christ  should 
obtain  the  second  place,  and  that  by  his  merits  their 
own  small  deficiencies  should  be  covered.  By  a 
correction  of  error  on  this  point  of  doctrine,  Luther 
began  the  reformation,  and  called  it  tlie  article  of 
ilte  standing  or  falling  of  the  Churcli.  And  this 
was  correct,  for  an  error  here  vitiates  the  whole 
theology  of  the  man  who  holds  it ;  and  the  minister 
-v^ho  does  not  clearly  preach  the  doctrine  of  justifi- 
cation by  faith  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
though  he  be  as  learned  as  Paul,  or  as  eloquent 
tis  Apollos,  is  not  such  a  workman  as  needeth  not 
to  be  ashamed.  Such  a  one  can  never  rightly  di- 
vide the  word  of  truth.  If  he  miss  the  mark  on 
this  cardinal  point,  you  will  find  him  bewildered, 
and  Ijewildering  his  hearers  everywhere  else.  The 
Gospel  in  his  mouth  will  give  no  distinct  and  in- 
telligible sound,  but  will  be  a  vague  and  confused 
report ;  and  if  he  essentially  err,  in  regard  to  the 
method  of  a  sinner's  justification,  he  brings  himself 
under  the  anathema  of  Paul  for  preaching  another 
gospel — which,  however,  is  not  another,  for  it 
brings  no  good  news  to  lost  sinners  ;  but  sets  men 
at  work  to  get  into  paradise  at  the  old  gate,  which 
was  long  ago  shut  up,  and  has  for  thousands  of 
years  been  guarded  by  the  fiery-flaming  sword  of 


38  THE      PEINCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

Divine  justice.  Here,  again,  men  are  prone,  wlien 
driven  from  one  error,  to  fly  to  tlie  opposite  ;  or 
ratlier  in  shunning  one  extreme  to  run  upon  tlie 
other.  For  while  some  seek  salvation  by  the  works 
of  the  law,  others  deny  that  we  have  anything  to 
do  with  the  law,  and  actually  "  by  faith  make  void 
the  law,"  pretending  and  teaching  that  the  obliga- 
tion of  the  moral  law  has  ceased,  since  Christ  has 
obeyed  it  in  our  stead.  Now,  this  antinomian 
leaven  is  a  sweet  morsel  to  the  appetite  of  the  carnal 
professor ;  for  he  loves  safety  and  ease,  but  hates 
self-denial  and  holy  li™g.  Others  again  talk  of  a 
new  law  for  Christians,  which  they  call  the  law  of 
liberty  or  sincerity,  because  it  does  not  condemn 
for  every  transgression,  as  does  the  moral  law,  and 
does  not  require  absolute  perfection  in  our  obedi- 
ence, but  is  satisfied  with  sincerity  ;  just  as  if  God 
could  change  the  requisitions  of  his  law  without 
changing  his  own  nature,  or  as  if  it  were  not  most 
absurd  to  suppose  that  any  law  could  require  less 
than  perfect  obedience  to  its  own  precepts.  But  we 
hear  from  another  quarter  that  the  minister  of  Jesus 
should  preach /V6'6  grace^  and  finished  salvation,  but 
not  utter  the  thunders  of  the  law,  and  thus  produce 
a  spirit  of  bondage  by  bringing  back  the  terrors  of 
Sinai.  Such  persons  may  suppose  that  they  are  the 
only  friends  of  free  grace  ;  but  that  minister  who 
ceases  to  exhibit  the  holy  law  of  God  in  its  spirit- 
uality, extent,  and  binding  obligation,  may  cease  to 
preach  the  Gospel  also  ;  for  where  there  are  none 
sick,  there  will  be  no  need  of  a  physician;  and 
where  no  law  is  preached,  there  will  be  no  convic- 


A.      ALEXANDEE,      D.D.  39 

tion  of  sill,  and  none  crying  out  "  wliat  must  we  do 
to  be  saved  ?" — so  that  it  is  most  evident  the  law 
must  precede  the  Gospel  in  the  siimer's  experience, 
and  also  in  riglitly  dividing  the  word  of  truth.  I 
do  not  mean  to  sanction  the  absurd  practical  error, 
that  for  a  time,  and  it  may  be  a  considerable  time, 
the  Gospel  should  be  withheld  from  the  people. 
For  what  is  this  but  to  usurp  the  prerogative  of 
God  ?  In  any  audience,  who  can  tell  but  there  may 
be  at  least  one  convinced  sinner,  who  needs  in- 
stantly the  consolations  of  the  Gospel  ?  And  they 
who  have  already  believed,  need  continually  the 
sprinkling  on  their  heart  and  conscience  of  the  same 
blood  which  at  first  gave  them  peace.  Let  no 
minister  of  Christ,  therefore,  presume  to  keep  back, 
during  a  single  sermon,  the  precious  Gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ,  which,  probably,  some  poor  sinner  is 
hearing:  for  the  last  time.  Who  that  has  read  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles,  does  not  know  that  days  and 
weeks  are  not  necessary  for  the  conversion  of  a 
soul  by  Almighty  grace  ?  Conviction  by  the  law, 
and  reconciliation  l^y  the  Gospel,  may  sometimes 
take  place  in  a  few  minutes.  The  spiritual  work- 
man, therefore,  who  wdelds  the  two-edged  sword  of 
the  Spu'it,  must  so  direct  and  manage  this  weapon 
of  proof,  as  to  render  it  most  efficient  in  penetra- 
ting between  the  joints  and  marrow  ;  yea,  between 
the  soul  and  the  spirit,  so  that  the  very  thoughts 
of  the  heart  may  be  made  manifest. 

Let  the  law  be  faithfully  proclaimed,  as  binding 
on  every  creature,  and  as  cursing  every  impenitent 
sinner  ;  and  let  the  utter  inability  of  man  to  satisfy 


40  THE     PPwIXCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

its  demands  be  clearly  set  forth,  not  as  an  excuse, 
but  as  a  fault ;  and  then  let  the  riches  of  grace  in 
Christ  Jesus  be  fully  exhibited  and  freely  offered, 
and  let  all — however  great  their  guilt — be  urged 
to  accept  of  unmerited  pardon,  and  complete  salva- 
tion. 

6.  Another  thing  very  necessary  to  a  correct  di- 
vision of  the  word  of  truth,  is  that  the  promises 
and  threatenings  contained  in  the  Scriptures  be 
applied  to  the  characters  to  which  they  properly 
belong.    How  often  do  we  hear  a  preacher  expatia- 
ting on  the  rich  consolations  of  tlie  exceeding  great 
and  precious  promises  of  God,  when  no  mortal  can 
tell,  from  anything  which  he  says,  to  whom  they 
are  applicable.     In  much  of  preaching,  there  is  a 
vague  and  indiscriminate  application  of  the  special 
promises  of  the  covenant  of  grace,  as  though  all  who 
heard  them  were  true  Christians,  and  had  a  claim 
to  the  comfort  which  they  oifer.     This  is  not  a  skil- 
ful division  of  tbe  word  of  truth.     In  sucli  a  divi- 
sion, the  saint  and  the  sinner  are   clearly  distin- 
guished by  decisive  scripture  marks  ;  so  that  every 
one  may  have  a  fair  opportunity  of  ascertaining 
to  which  class  he  belongs,  and  what  prospects  lie 
before  kim.     Rightly  dividing  the  word  of  truth 
includes,  therefore,  what  may  be  termed  cliarader- 
istical  preaching — that  is,  a  clear  and  just  delinea- 
tion of  character,  by  using  the  pencil  of  inspiration. 
For  if,  in  this  business,  men  follow  their  own  fan- 
cies, and  lay  down  marks  of  piety  not  authorized 
by  tke  Word  of  God,  they  will  often  cry  peace  to 
those  to  whom  God  has  not  spoken  peace,  and  will 


A  .      A  L  E  X  A  N  D  E  K ,     I)  .  D  .  41 

give  unnecessary  pain  to  tlie  children  of  God  by  ob- 
scuring their  evidences,  and  perplexing  their  minds 
with  fears  and  scruples  by  a  false  representation  of 
the  true  characteristics  of  genuine  piety.  It  is  much 
to  be  regretted  that  this  accurate  discrimination  in 
preaching  has  gone  so  much  out  of  use  in  our  times. 
It  is  but  seldom  that  we  hear  a  discourse  from  the 
pulpit  which  is  calculated  to  afford  much  aid  to 
Christians  in  ascertaining  their  own  true  character ; 
or  which  will  serve  to  detect  the  h}^ocrite  and  for- 
malist, and  drive  them  from  all  their  false  refuges. 
In  the  best  days  of  the  reformed  churches,  such  dis- 
criminating delineation  of  character,  by  the  light 
of  Scripture,  formed  an  important  part  of  almost 
every  sermon.  But  we  are  now  more  attentive  to 
the  rules  of  rhetoric  than  to  the  marks  of  true  re- 
ligion. How  do  Owen,  Flavel,  Boston,  and  Erskine 
abound  in  marks  of  distinction  between  the  true 
and  false  professor  ?  And  the  most  distinguished 
preachers  of  our  own  country — the  Mathers, 
Shepards,  Stoddards,  Edwardses,  as  also  the  Blairs, 
Tennents,  Davies,  and  Dickinsons,  were  wise  in  so 
dividing  the  word  of  truth,  that  all  might  receive 
their  portion  in  due  season.  But  certainly  the 
word  of  truth  should  be  so  handled,  that  every 
person  who  does  not  turn  away  his  eyes  may  see 
the  lineaments  of  his  true  character,  reflected  from 
the  word,  as  the  image  from  the  glass.  This,  in- 
deed, requires  something  more  than  a  fertile  im- 
agination and  a  ready  utterance — more  than  the 
learning  of  the  schools,  or  profound  critical  acumen. 
It  requires  that  the  preacher  study  much  upon  his 
4 


42  THE      PRIJSTCETOlSr     PULPIT." 

knees,  that  lie  examine  Ms  own  lieart  witli  unceas- 
ing care,  tliat  "  the  Word  of  God  dwell  in  him 
richly,  in  all  wisdom  and  spiritual  understanding  ;" 
and  also  that  he  converse  frequently  and  freely 
with  experienced  Christians.  In  these  matters 
there  are  many  private  persons  who  are  wiser  than 
their  teachers ;  and  a  preacher,  of  true  humility, 
will  be  often  glad  to  learn  from  those  who  have  had 
longer  or  deeper  experience  than  himself.  While 
others  are  seeking  his  counsel  in  regard  to  their 
spiritual  condition,  he  is  learning  from  them,  for 
these  are  lessons  which  we  can  best  learn  from  the 
living  subject. 

T.  But  finally,  the  Avord  of  God  should  be  so 
handled,  that  it  may  be  adapted  to  Christians  in 
different  states  and  stages  of  the  divine  life ;  for 
while  some  Christians  are  like  "  strong  men,"  others 
are  but  "  babes  in  Christ,  who  must  be  fed  with 
milk,  and  not  with  strong  meat."  Christ  taught 
his  disciples  as  they  were  able  to  bear  it,  and  re- 
served many  things  which  he  wished  to  say,  to  the 
time  when  they  were  capable  of  understanding  his 
meaning.  The  same  course  was  pursued  by  Paul. 
We  are  bound,  indeed,  "  to  declare  the  whole 
counsel  of  God,"  but  in  due  order,  at  proper  times, 
and  with  a  wise  reference  to  the  strength  and 
spiritual  attainments  of  our  hearers.  We  must 
"  keep  nothing  back  which  is  profitable,"  but  he 
who  is  wise  to  win  souls,  will  judge  correctly  when, 
and  in  what  way,  particular  parts  of  the  system  of 
truth  should  be  inculcated.     Christ  will  not  have 


A.      ALEXANDER,     D.D.  43 

the   bruised   reed  broken,  nor  the  smoking   flax 
quenched. 

Again,  respect  must  be  had  to  the  condition  of 
Christians,  as  they  are  found  advancing  in  the 
divine  life,  or  falling  into  a  state  of  backsliding 
and  declension.  The  former  should  be  stimulated 
to  persevere  ;  the  latter  should  be  plucked  as 
brands  from  the  burning.  The  word  of  truth 
ought  also  to  be  so  divided  as  to  be  adapted  to  the 
external  circumstances  of  Christians.  When  in 
prosperity  and  honor,  they  should  be  admonished 
not  to  he  liigh-minded^  hut  fear  ^  not  to  trust  in  un- 
certain riches^  hut  in  the  living  God^  loJio  giveth  us 
all  things  richly  to  enjoy.  They  should  be  ex- 
horted to  rejoice  ivitli  tremUing^  and  to  use  the 
tvorld  as  not  al using  it,  and  should  be  reminded 
that  by  worldly  prosperity,  many  professors  have 
sunk  low  in  piety,  have  become  infatuated  with  the 
gaiety  and  pageantry  of  a  vain  world.  Their  affec- 
tions fixed  too  intensely  upon  the  creature,  piety 
often  withers  under  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  and 
they  become  co? formed  to  the  tvorld,  participate  in 
its  pleasure,  and  court  its  honors.  Even  the  real 
Christian,  in  this  condition,  has  a  morbid  sensibility, 
Avhicli  exposes  him  to  take  offence  at  the  wounds 
inflicted  by  brotherly  reproof,  and  friendly  warn- 
ing. Here  the  knife  of  the  spiritual  surgeon  is 
wanted.  A  dangerous  gangrene  has  arisen  on  tlie 
inner  man,  which  must  not  be  suffered  to  grow. 
Let  the  ftiithful  warnings  of  the  pulpit  ring  in  the 
conscience  of  the  professor  who  exliil)its  a  charac- 
ter so  doubtful,  and  stands  in  a  position  so  danger- 


44  THE      PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

ous.  By  fidelity  ministers  may  give  offence  to  their 
best  supporters,  and  cause  tliem  to  forsake  their 
ministry ;  it  may  be  so ;  it  has  been  so,  but  he 
must  approve  himself  to  God.  Whenever  a  minis- 
ter of  the  gospel  makes  it  his  chief  aim  to  please 
men,  he  ceases  to  be  the  servant  of  God.  He  must 
therefore  reprove,  rebuke,  exhort,  with  all  long 
suffering  and  doctrine.  Whether  men  will  hear  or 
forbear,  he  must  be  faithful  to  his  Master  and  to 
their  souls  ;  and  must,  at  every  risk,  clear  his  skirts 
of  their  blood,  "  warning  every  man,  and  teaching 
every  man,  with  all  meekness." 

But  God's  people  are  often  in  affliction,  and  are 
led  through  deep  waters.  One  billow  succeeds 
another  in  quick  succession,  until  they  are  almost 
overwhelmed,  and,  ready  to  sink,  they  cry  out  of 
the  depths.  Or,  long-continued  judgments  press 
them  down,  until  their  spirits  are  broken  with  sor- 
row. "  Many  are  the  afflictions  of  the  righteous." 
"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth,  and  scourg- 
eth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth." 

But  under  all  these  sorrows  he  has  provided  for 
them  refreshing  cordials  in  his  Word,  that  their 
fainting  spirits  may  be  relieved,  and  their  broken 
hearts  healed.  These  must  be  administered  by  the 
spiritual  physician.  These  disconsolate  and  afflicted 
members  of  the  flock  are  those  who  most  need  the 
pastor's  care.  Over  these  he  must  exercise  a  watch- 
ful and  tender  supervision ;  and  however  humble 
theii'  habitation,  and  obscure  their  condition,  they 
must  be  sought  out  and  visited.  Here  you  may 
see  the  difference  between  the  man-pleasing,  time- 


A.      ALEXANDER,     D.D.  45 

serving  preaclier,  and  the  Lumble,  faithful  man  of 
God ;  for  while  the  former  is  continually  courting 
and  flattering  the  great,  and  feasting  with  the  rich, 
the  latter  is  searching  for  the  sheep  and  lambs  of 
his  Master's  flock,  that  he  may  feed  and  comfort 
them,  in  imitation  of  the  Great  Shepherd.  He 
must  condescend  to  men  of  low  estate — remember 
the  poor — visit  the  sick — and  have  a  word  in  sea- 
son for  every  weary  soul ;  yea,  he  must  pilot  the 
departing  pilgrim  over  Jordan  to  the  land  of  pro- 
mise. 

There  is  a  portion  for  the  dying  which  must  not 
be  withheld.  When  heart  and  flesh  fail,  and  the 
spirit  is  on  the  wing,  and  just  ready  to  take  her 
flight  into  unknown  worlds,  then  must  the  guide  of 
souls  hold  up  the  torch  of  truth  to  enlighten  her 
as  she  passes  through  the  "  valley  and  shadow  of 
death."  Then  let  the  voice  of  the  Great  Shepherd 
be  heard  in  his  word  of  promise,  saying,  "  I  will 
never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee."  "In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions ;"  "  Father,  it  is 
my  will  that  where  I  am,  there  my  disciples  may 
be  also,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory." 

The  exhortation  of  Paul  to  Timothy  is  to  study 
to  show  himself  approved  unto  God,  a  workman 
that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed  :  and  he  points  out 
the  method  by  which  he  might  thus  meet  with  the 
Di\4ne  approbation,  viz.,  by  rightly  di\ading  the 
word  of  truth.  What  is  included  in  this  duty,  we 
have  now  considered,  and  will  leave  the  applica- 
tion to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  subject. 
Ministers,   who  are    accustomed   to  teach  others. 


46  THE      PEINCETOIS^      PULPIT. 

ought  to  be  willing  to  teach  themselves  also.  They 
who  have  the  skill  aud  fidelity  to  apply  the  truth 
to  the  consciences  of  their  hearers,  should  also  be 
taithful  to  their  own  souls  in  detecting^  and  censur- 
ing  their  own  failures  in  time  past,  and  should  to 
the  last  day  of  their  ministry  endeavor  to  improve 
in  every  pastoral  qualification,  and  in  fidelity  and 
skill  in  dividing  the  word -of  truth.  Many  useful 
inferences  might  be  deduced  from  this  subject,  but 
I  forbear  to  brins^  them  forward,  first  because  I  have 
already  consumed  as  much  of  your  time  as  is  pro- 
per ;  and,  again,  because  I  would  not  trench  upon 
the  ground  which  will  more  properly  be  occupied 
by  those  brethren  who  have  been  designated  to 
take  part  in  this  solemn  service. 

I  would  conclude  by  remarking  that  my  own 
ministry  in  the  Word  is  coming  fast  to  a  close  ;  and 
one  of  my  greatest  consolations  is  to  see  younger 
ministers  raised  up  by  the  Great  Head  of  the 
Church,  to  fill  the  places  of  us  who  must  soon 
leave  the  stage.  I  consider  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  to  be  the  most  honoral^le  and  important 
work  in  the  world.  The  exio^encies  of  the  Church 
now  demand  ministers  of  the  highest  qualifications  ; 
and  of  all  qualifications  none  is  so  indispensable  as 
deep,  unfeigned,  spiritual  piety — a  heart  imbued 
habitually  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  disposed 
to  count  all  things  but  loss  for  his  sake  ;  and  will- 
ing to  count  not  their  own  lives  dear  to  them,  so 
that  they  may  finish  their  course  with  joy,  and  the 
ministry  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  testify  the 
Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God." 


A  .      A  L  E  X  A  N  DER  ,     D  .  D  .  4T 

The  wise,  faithful,  and  laborious  workman  may 
be  enabled  to  say  with  Paul,  shortly  before  the 
close  of  his  ministry,  "  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered, 
and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have 
fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I 
have  kept  the  fjiith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up 
for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord, 
the  righteous  Judge,  will  give  me  at  that  day ;  and 
not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  them  also  that  love 
his  appearing."  Then,  indeed,  will  the  Supreme 
Judge  manifest  his  approbation  of  all  his  faithful 
servants  who  have  rightly  divided  the  word  of 
truth. 


A     BACCALAUREATE    DISCOURSE. 

BY 

THE  REV.  JAMES    CARNAHAN,  D.D., 

riiESIDEKT   OF   THE   COLLEGE   OF   NEW   JBESEY. 


"  Young  men  likewise  exhort  to  be  sober  minded-" — Titus  ii.  6. 

The  Epistle  of  tlie  Apostle  Paul  to  Titus,  from 
whicli  our  text  is  taken,  may  be  considered  as  a 
charge  to  a  minister  of  tlie  gospel  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  he  ought  to  perform  the  duties  of  his  sa- 
cred and  solemn  office.  In  it  the  Apostle  instructs 
Titus  respecting  the  doctrines  which  he  is  to  teach, 
the  example  which  he  is  to  set,  and  the  duties  which 
he  is  to  enjoin  on  different  persons,  according  to 
their  age  and  condition  in  life.  To  persons  of  every 
age  and  condition,  Titus  is  to  preach  salvation  by  the 
grace  of  God,  through  the  redemption  purchased 
by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  necessity  of  holi- 
ness of  heart  and  life.  Yet  the  Apostle  does  not  con- 
tent himself  with  general  precepts  of  Christian  mo- 
rality applicable  to  all  descriptions  of  men.  He 
enters  into  a  detail  of  the  sins  to  be  avoided,  and  of 
the  duties  to  be  performed  by  persons  of  different 
ages  and  classes  in  society.  There  are  temptations 
and  sins  peculiar  to  men  of  different  ages  and  condi- 


D.D.  49 

tions  ill  life.  Sin,  wliicli  is  common  to  all,  assumes 
various  aspects  from  cliildliood  to  old  age.  The  same 
temptations  wliicli  seduce  the  young,  do  not  ordi- 
narily affect  the  aged,  or  even  those  in  middle  life. 
The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  master  and  the  servant, 
do  not  usually  commit  the  same  sins.  In  the  verses 
immediately  connected  with  our  text,  the  Apos- 
tle directs  Titus  to  accommodate  his  instructions  to 
the  character  of  various  classes.  To  aged  men  and 
aged  women,  to  young  women  and  to  servants,  he 
directs  peculiar  and  specified  admonitions  and  warn- 
ings to  be  given.  And  in  our  text,  he  adds —  Young 
men  likewise  exliort  to  he  sober-minded. 

Young  men  are  proverbially  rash,  impetuous — 
guided  by  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  regardless 
of  consequences  ;  and  on  this  account  they  need  to 
be  exhorted,  to  reflect,  to  meditate,  to  consider,  to 
exercise  the  attributes  of  rational  and  accountable 
agents,  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  God  speaking  to 
them  in  his  written  word,  in  the  dispensations  of 
his  providence,  in  the  experience  of  those  more  ad- 
vanced in  years,  and  in  the  suggestions  of  their  own 
conscience. 

To  he  soher-minded^  m  the  sense  in  which  the 
Apostle  uses  the  expression,  does  not  require  young 
men  to  be  dull,  stupid,  lethargic,  moved  by  no  gene- 
rous impulse,  aiming  at  no  high  and  noble  object, 
exerting  no  physical  and  intellectual  power.  So 
far  from  instructing  them  to  aim  at  such  a  listless, 
inactive,  and  idiotic  state,  the  Apostle  elsewhere  ex- 
horts them,  as  well  as  others,  to  be  "  diligent  in 
business,  and  fervent  in  spirit ;"  to  lay  aside  every 


50  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

hindrance,  and  to  exert  tliemselves  witli  the  vigor 
and  energy  of  those  who  strive  for  the  mastery  in 
running,  in  wrestling,  and  in  whatever  men  are 
wont  to  put  forth  their  highest  efforts. 

Nor  does  the  term  sober-minded  in  the  passage 
before  us  mean,  that  young  men  should  be  morose, 
austere,  melancholy,  averse  to  all  social  cheerful- 
ness. In  this  respect,  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  his  Apostles,  unlike  that  of  the  ancient 
Stoics,  does  not  aim  to  extinguish  the  passions 
of  men,  but  to  lay  them  under  such  restraints,  and 
to  give  them  such  a  direction  as  is  accordant  with 
the  will  of  Him  who  made  us  what  we  are. 

A  man  may  be  what  the  Apostle  means  by  sober- 
minded^  and  be  at  the  same  time  a  most  interesting 
and  pleasant  companion. 

The  original  Greek  word,  aoxjigoveiv,  translated 
sober-minded^  is  composed  of  two  words — the  one 
{ooog  or  (jwf)  signifying  sound,  healthful,  free  from 
disease ;  the  other  (<Pq7]v)  signifying  mind  or  intel- 
lect. And  the  word  composed  of  these  two  ele- 
ments, signifies  a  sound  or  sane  mind,  free  from  such 
corrupt  bias  as  would  prevent  an  individual  from 
deciding  or  acting  in  a  discreet,  judicious,  and  wise 
manner.  The  object,  then,  which  the  Apostle,  in- 
spired by  the  Holy  Spirit,  would  have  young  men 
exhorted  to  attain,  is  a  discreet,  sound,  healthy  state 
of  mind,  free  from  the  infatuation  which  possesses 
many  of  this  age,  and  which  sooner  or  later  leads 
them  to  ruin.  Such  I  understand  to  be  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Apostle — ■  Young  men  liheiuise  exliort  to 
he  sober-minded.     And  in  obedience  to  this  injunc- 


JAMES      C  A  K  N  A  II  A  ]Sr,     D.D.  51 

tion,  we  sliall  exliort  and  endeavor  to  persuade 
young  men  to  seek  a  sound,  liealtliy,  and  sane  mind, 
free  from  sucli  prejudices  and  passions  as  obscure 
the  intellect,  stupify  tlie  conscience,  and  prevent 
the  attainment  of  high  moral  excellence. 

In  most  men  there  is  a  species  of  infatuation  si- 
milar in  its  effects  to  intoxicating  stimulants.  They 
become  unduly  excited  under  the  influence  of  some 
dominant  passion  or  ruhng  motive,  and  they  rush 
on  headlong,  as  if  they  were  blind-folded,  until  they 
have  approached  so  near  the  fatal  abyss,  that  to 
arrest  their  progress  is  impracticable. 

What  we  see  every  day  passing  around  us,  justi- 
fies us  in  saying  that  this  infatuation  is  more  com- 
mon, as  well  as  more  fatal,  in  young  men  than  in 
any  other.  In  whatever  way  we  may  account  for 
the  fact,  we  see  many  young  men  acting  as  if  they 
were  bereft  of  their  senses,  as  well  es  destitute  of 
reason.  The  winged  insect  that  sports  around  a 
hghted  taper  in  a  summer  evening,  is  not  more  cer- 
tain to  fall  a  prey  to  the  dazzling  object  around 
which  it  flutters,  than  these  young  men  are  to  meet 
inevitable  ruin.  Hundreds  and  thousands  in  every 
age,  have  pursued  the  same  course,  and  they  have 
fallen  victims  to  their  own  folly ;  and  yet  others 
rise  up  and  take  the  same  course.  They  seem  to 
be  under  the  influence  of  a  species  of  insanity  or 
madness,  so  that  the  motives  which  ought  to  govern 
rational  beings,  have  no  influence  on  their  conduct. 
Grasping  at  the  phantoms  that  flit  before  their 
imagination,  they  lose  objects  of  real  and  substan- 
tial value. 


52  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

The  parable  of  the  prodigal  son,  recorded  in  the 
gospel,  is  an  apt  and  striking  illustration  of  the 
character  and  conduct  of  many  young  men.  In 
this  parable  it  is  plainly  intimated,  that  the  prodi- 
gal labored  under  a  species  of  infatuation — that  he 
was  actually  deranged ;  for  it  is  said  wlien  Tie  came 
to  himself — that  is,  when  he  had  recovered  his  rea- 
son, and  was  delivered  from  the  delusion  that  pos- 
sessed him,  he  formed  the  purpose  of  returning  to 
his  father's  house.  He  then  began  to  think,  to  re- 
flect, to  compare  the  wretched  condition  in  which 
he  found  himself,  with  the  quiet,  peaceful,  and  sub- 
stantial enjoyments  of  his  father's  house.  His  de- 
lusion vanished — lie  came  to  himself — reason  re- 
sumed its  office,  and  conscience  prompted  him,  un- 
grateful as  he  had  been,  to  return  to  his  duty.  I 
xoill  arise  and  go  to  my  father^  was  the  first  rational 
expression  that  had  escaped  from  his  lips  from  the 
time  he  had  left  his  father's  house.  How  many 
imitate  the  folly  of  the  prodigal  son,  who  never 
come  to  themselves,  and  form  the  purpose  to  return 
to  their  duty,  until  it  is  too  late  !  And  why  is  it 
that  young  men  do  not  profit  by  the  sad  experience 
of  those  who  have  gone  before  them  %  Why  is  it 
that  the  loss  of  health,  of  property,  of  rejDutation, 
and  the  certainty  of  eternal  ruin,  do  not  cause  them 
to  turn  their  feet  from  the  path  that  has  led  others 
to  a  wretched  end  ?  It  is  because  they  lack  that 
sober,  sound,  discriminating  mind  recommended  by 
the  Apostle.  They  suffer  themselves  to  be  deluded 
by  the  dazzling  phantoms  created  by  a  heated  ima- 
gination, and  permit  their  appetites  and  passions, 


JAMES      CAKNAIIAN,     D.D.  53 

and  not  tlieir  reason  and  conscience,  to  become  their 
guide. 

Young  men  are  beset  witli  temptations  from 
within  and  from  without.  Their  appetites  are  keen, 
their  passions  strong  and  easily  excited,  and  objects 
are  daily  presented  suited  to  feed  the  fires  within 
them. 

At  this  age,  the  animal  part  of  our  nature  is 
more  fully  developed  than  the  intellectual  and 
moral.  The  immediate  gratification  of  the  appe- 
tites and  passions  is  too  tempting  to  be  resisted. 
If  the  first  taste  of  criminal  sensual  pleasure  was  as 
bitter  as  when  the  cup  is  drained  to  the  dregs,  it 
would  be  rejected  with  disgust.  But  it  is  not  so. 
There  is  a  pleasure  connected  with  the  sins  which 
men  commit,  especially  in  early  life.  And  the  first 
gratification  tempts  to  a  second,  and  that  to  a  third, 
until  the  whole  soul  is  absorbed  in  the  indulgence 
of  some  cherished  lust  or  passion. 

Moral  painters,  who  have  noticed  the  actings  of 
human  nature,  are  wont  to  represent  the  com- 
mencement of  the  paths  of  vice  as  strewed  with 
flowers,  and  those  of  virtue,  at  the  beginning,  as 
rough,  difiScult,  and  laborious.  And  if  it  were  not 
so,  where  would  be  the  temptation  to  sin  ?  We 
will  admit  that  there  is  as  high  enjoyment  in  the 
gratification  of  the  appetites  and  passions,  natural 
to  youth,  as  the  votaries  of  sensual  pleasure  may 
please  to  affirm — that  the  pleasure  is  so  exquisite, 
that  it  captivates,  enchants,  and  excites  the  soul 
even  to  ecstacy.  And  what  then?  It  produces 
that  very  state  of  mind  which  is  the  most,  danger- 


54  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

ous  and  ruinous.  Tlie  animal  part  of  our  nature  is 
raised  above  tlie  intellectual  and  moral.  Tlie  order 
and  harmony  of  the  human  constitution  is  de- 
rauged,  and  that  part  which  ought  to  act  in  subser- 
viency to  the  nobler  powers  becomes  predominant, 
and  the  wonderful  machinery  works  its  own 
speedy  ruin.  The  songs  of  the  fabled  Sirens  are 
said  to  have  been  enchanting,  and  their  cup  deli- 
cious. But  the  music  was  intended  to  decoy  the  un- 
suspecting mariner  on  the  fatal  rock,  and  the  cup, 
when  tasted,  transformed  human  beings  into  the 
lowest  and  most  filthy  brutes.  I  am  aware  of  the 
excuse  or  apology  which  young  men  offer  for  in- 
dulo-ing  their  appetites  and  passions — I  have  heard 
it  a  hundred  times ;  and  ninety-nine  times  in  a 
hundred  I  have  seen  in  the  end  that  it  was  utterly 
false  and  deceptive.  Their  self-confidence  has  been 
their  ruin.  They  say  they  have  nO  taste  for  intoxi- 
catino-  drinks ;  that  they  have  their  appetites  and 
passions  under  perfect  command ;  that  they  will 
be  prudent,  and  will  never,  except  on  rare  occa- 
sions, go  beyond  certain  limits.  And  what  has 
been  the  consequence  ?  We  have  seen  these  strong 
men  laid  low — these  prudent  men,  of  firm  and  un- 
shaken purpose,  become  so  mfatuated  and  enslaved^ 
that  they  suffered  no  opportunity  to  pass  without 
falling  into  debasing  self-indulgence. 

Young  men  have  usually  sufiicient  buoyancy 
without  using  artificial  means  to  raise  their  spirits. 
Stupid  fools  may  need  something  to  quicken  their 
genius ;  but,   after  they  have  taken   the   exciting 


JAMES      CAEN  A  HAN,     D.D.  55 

dranglit,  they  are,  in  tlie  estimation  of  every  one 
except  themselves,  fools  still. 

Few  men,  under  the  influence  of  their  cups,  have 
a  clearer  head,  a  sounder  judgment,  or  even  a  more 
l^rilliant  wit,  than  when  not  thus  excited.  The 
imagination  may  indeed  be  roused ;  but  it  is  wild, 
erratic,  leading  the  man  to  form  projects,  to  execute 
designs,  and  to  perpetrate  crimes  which  he  would 
not  have  thought  of  in  his  sober  moments. 

The  evil  of  this  sin  is,  that  it  prepares  the  way 
for  the  commission  of  every  other  sin.  No  man 
beforehand  can  say  what  he  will  not  do,  when  un- 
der the  influence  of  this  maddening  and  demoniac 
spirit.  Tell  me  what  crime  it  has  not  excited  men 
to  commit  ?  What  obligation  it  has  not  violated  ? 
What  form  of  human  degradation  and  wretched- 
ness it  has  not  produced  ? 

Within  a  few  years  much  has  been  said  and  much 
has  been  done  to  arrest  the  progress  of  this  de- 
stroyer of  human  happiness.  But  still  the  delu- 
sion, which  leads  young  men  to  immolate  them- 
selves on  an  altar  smeared  with  more  blood  of 
human  victims  than  ever  stained  the  cars  of  Ju"-- 

o 

gernaut,  is  not  dissipated.  Many  try  how  far  they 
can  go  within  the  verge  of  the  fatal  whirlj^ool,  and 
yet  resist  its  suction ;  and  they  direct  their  frail 
bark  round  and  round  the  yawning  gulf  until  re- 
sistance is  hopeless. 

Is  that  young  man  of  a  sound  and  sane  mind 
who,  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  his  taste  vr  of  amus- 
ing his  companions,  will  go  within  the  limits  of 
the  enchanted  circle  and  hazard  these  dangers  ? 


56  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

Througli  want  of  more  extended  observation, 
young  men  labor  under  one  great  disadvantage. 
Tbey  see  tlie  beginning,  but  tliey  do  not  see  the 
end.  Tliey  see  tlie  temporary  excitement  of  tbeir 
com23anions.  All  is  gayety,  and  mirth,  and  social 
enjoyment.  None  of  the  party  are  habitual  druiik- 
ards.  They  look  with  abhorrence  and  contempt  on 
the  degraded  being  who  is  staggering  in  the  street 
or  hanging  about  the  tavern  door. 

They  do  not  know,  or  at  least  they  do  not  con- 
sider, that  the  ruined  man,  whom  they  despise, 
once  occupied  the  same  position  which  they  now 
hold  ;  that  he  was  once  as  gay,  and  as  cheerful,  and 
as  far  from  being  an  habitual  drunkard  as  they  are, 
and  that  he  sincerely  thought  he  could  never  be 
reduced  to  his  present  debased  condition.  Con- 
fident that  he  could  at  any  time  desist,  he  advanced 
step  by  step,  until  he  is  utterly  lost. 

We  have  noticed  intoxicating  stimulants  as  the 
first  cause  of  exciting  the  infatuation  of  young  men, 
because  it  is  the  most  common  and  fatal.  But 
there  are  other  causes.  The  Prodigal  Son,  to  whose 
case  we  have  already  referred,  wasted  his  sub- 
stance not  in  riotous  living  only,  but  also  with 
liarlots. 

The  delicacy  of  the  present  age  almost  forbids 
us  to  name  this  subject  before  a  public  audience. 
It  was  not  so  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  and  his 
Apostles.  They  denounced  lewdness  in  all  its  forms 
in  plain  and  unequivocal  terms.  Our  boasted  re- 
finement is  no  certain  proof  that  in  this  respect 
morals   are  more   pure  than   in  the  days  of  our 


JAMES      C  A  R  N  A  II  A  Ts'  ,     D  .  D  ,  57 

Lord  and  his  Apostles.  Whatever  may  be  the  cause 
of  this  extreme  sensitiveness,  one  thing  is  certain, 
that  this  sin  has  lost  none  of  its  moral  turpitude 
and  baneful  consequences.  God  has  mai'ked  his 
abhorrence  of  this  crime,  in  the  haggard  counte- 
nance, the  decrepit  frame,  and  premature  death 
of  its  votaries,  in  the  degradation  and  wretchedness 
of  the  female  sex,  in  the  mortification  and  untold 
agonies  of  parents  and  friends,  and  in  the  unnatural 
and  horrid  crimes  to  which  a  desire  to  conceal 
their  shame,  not  unfrequently  impels  its  victims. 
And  yet  there  are  young  men,  who  speak  lightly, 
and  even  boast  of  this  sin,  which,  if  generally  pre- 
valent, would  rob  social  and  domestic  life  of  all  its 
endearments.  The  relation  of  husband  and  wife, 
of  parent  and  child,  of  brother  and  sister,  would 
lose  all  their  charms — all  the  sacred  ties  that  bind 
affectionate  hearts  would  be  broken,  and  our  public 
as  well  as  domestic  institutions  would  be  torn  into 
fragments. 

It  is  a  delusion,  an  infatuation  of  the  worst  kind, 
which  tempts  young  men  to  hazard  consequences 
so  appalling.  "  Let  them  beware  of  the  smile  on 
the  lips,  and  the  roses  on  the  cheeks  of  the  De- 
ceiver, sensual  pleasure. — Her  end  is  hitter  as 
wormwood^  sharper  than  a  ttvo-edged  sword:  her 
feet  go  down  to  death^  and  her  steps  take  hold  ov, 
Hell:''' 

Gaming  is  another  practice  which  inflames  the 
blood  and  fires  the  brain  of  some  young  men,  even 
to  desperation  and  madness. 

*  Logan. 

5 


58  THE     PEI]SrCETON     PULPIT. 

To  persons  not  initiated  into  tlie  mysteries  of  tlie 
gaming-table,  it,  seems  strange  and  unaccountable 
that  rational  beings  can  spend  hours  and  wliole 
niglits  shuffling  cards  or  rattling  a  dice-box ;  tbat 
the  interest  tlius  excited  should  become  so  intense 
as  to  exclude  from  the  mind  every  other  thought 
except  that  of  winning  or  losing  a  game  depend- 
ing more  on  chance  and  fraud  than  on  dexterity 
and  skill.     Such  we  understand  is  the  fact  even 
when  no  pecuniary  interest  is  at  stake.     But  when 
cupidity  or  the  desire  of  gain  is  added,  as  is  usually 
the  case,  the  ardor  and  intensity  of  thought  and 
feeling  cannot  be  expressed.     The  eye  is  fixed,  the 
lips  closed,  the  breath  suppressed,  watching  the 
issue  of  a  lucky  or  unlucky  moment.     I  speak  not 
now   of  the    cold-blooded,  heartless,  professional 
gambler  who  would  strip  his  best  friend  of  the 
last  cent,  and  leave  an  amiable  woman,  and  her 
helpless   children,   without   a   crust   of  bread   to 
eat,   or   a   rag  to   cover  them.     I  speak  of  more 
decent,    respectable    men,    who    uidiappily   have 
contracted     a     passion    for     gaming,    and     who, 
unmindful  of  the  claims   of  a  dependent  family, 
hazard   all,    at   the   gaming    table    or   horse-race. 
I    speak   of    young    men    of    respectable   family 
Connections,  in  honorable  and  confidential  employ- 
ments, who  are  driven  by  this  fell  passion  to  rob 
their  employers,  to  betray  their  trust,  to  commit 
forgery,  in  order  to  pay  what  are  called  debts  of 
honor.      The   penitentiary   or   suicide    not   unfre- 
quently  closes  the  drama.     Is  that  young  man  of 


JAMES   car:^aiian,   d.d.  59 

a  sound  mind  who  takes  tlie  first  step   towards 
sucli  a  catastrophe  ? 

Let  me  remark  that  the  same  spirit  actuates 
many  young  men,  who  are  never  seen  at  the  ga- 
ming table  or  race-ground,  or  betting  at  elections,  or 
dabl^ling  in  lottery  tickets.  I  refer  to  a  large  class, 
who  neglect  the  means  ordinarily  connected  with 
the  attainment  of  a  desirable  object,  and  whose 
prospect  of  success  depends  entirely  on  something 
in  which  they  have  no  agency. 

Such  is  the  wise  ordination  of  Providence,  that 
certain  means  are  connected  with  particular  ends  : 
so  that  when  the  means  are  neglected,  the  end  is 
seldom  reached. 

There  are  some  young  men,  who  have  no  par- 
ticular or  general  object  in  view,  and  consequent 
they  employ  no  thought  in  selecting  means,  and 
make  no  efforts  in  pressing  forward  to  an  object 
before  them.  Like  the  bubble  that  floats  on  the 
surface  of  an  agitated  pool,  they  move  in  whatever 
direction  the  impulse  of  the  moment  drives  them. 
They  are  literally  creatures  of  chance.  The  provi- 
dence of  Grod,  which  extends  to  the  falling  of  a 
sparrow,  never  comes  into  their  thoughts.  Both 
theii"  temporal  and  eternal  interests,  so  far  as  any 
agency  of  their  own  are  concerned,  is  a  perfect  lot- 
tery, and  their  chance  of  success,  either  in  this 
world  or  in  that  which  is  to  come,  is  less  than  one 
to  a  million.  Brutes  following  the  blind  in- 
stincts of  their  nature,  may  attain  the  end  for 
which  they  were  created,  but  man,  without  thought 
and  eifort  wisely  directed,  cannot. 


60  THE    PRIjSrCETOX     PULPIT. 

There  are  others,  who  have  an  object  in  view, 
and  they  are  sufficiently  ardent  in  their  desires  to 
possess  it,  but  they  neglect  the  means  by  which  it 
is  ordinarily  attained.  For  example ;  they  desire 
to  be  rich,  and  they  regard  industry  and  economy, 
the  old  fashioned  way  of  acquiring  w^ealth,  as  too 
slow  and  plodding  ;  they  must  reach  the  object  at 
a  single  bound.  They  enter  into  w^ild  speculations, 
and  commence  an  expensive  style  of  living.  Our 
country,  at  the  present  time,  presents  too  many 
examples  of  such  folly  and  madness.  The  humble 
and  useful  employments  of  agriculture  and  the 
mechanical  arts  are  despised  and  abandoned  ; 
every  young  man  must  needs  be  a  gentleman ; 
that  is,  he  must  not  stain  his  hands,  nor  soil  his 
clothes  with  manual  labor.  Few  young  men  at  the 
present  time,  like  Koger  Sherman  and  Benjamin 
Franklin,  pursue  with  diligence  an  honest  and  la- 
borious occupation,  while  they  seize  every  leisure 
moment  to  store  their  minds  with  useful  know- 
ledge. 

Again ;  there  is  another  class  of  young  men,  who, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  are  placed  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, that  they  might  devote  their  whole 
time  to  the  improvement  of  their  minds,  and  to  the 
duties  of  a  liberal  profession.  They,  too,  hope  to 
reach  the  temple  of  fame,  not  by  such  means  as 
Cicero  and  Demosthenes  and  others  emj^loyed,  but 
borne  on  the  wings  of  their  genius,  or  wafted  by 
some  propitious  breeze,  they  hope,  without  effort, 
to  reach  the  heights  to  which  others  have  climbed  by 
gradual  and  laborious  steps,  and  when  sad  experi- 


JAIMES     CAKNAHAN,     D.D.  CI 

ence  lias  dispelled  tlie  delusion,  we  see  them  with 
wasted  estate,  unfit  for  any  useful  employment, 
begging  some  humble  public  office,  or  what  is 
worse,  washing  from  their  minds,  in  the  grog-shop, 
the  remembrance  of  their  early  folly.  How  far 
the  course  of  reading  pursued  by  the  class  of 
young  men  described,  tends  to  form  their  charac- 
ter, and  to-  determine  their  fate,  is  a  matter  worthy 
of  serious  consideration.  It  does  seem  to  me  that 
the  novels  and  romances,  and  licentious  poetry, 
found  on  their  tables,  and  occupying  the  time  that 
ought  to  be  devoted  to  grave  and  laborious  stu 
dies,  have  no  small  influence  in  inflaming  the  ima 
gination,  kindling  the  passions,  and  in  forming  that 
insignificant  and  worthless  character  manifested  in 
future  life. 

Once  more ;  the  company  with  which  a  young 
man  associates  is  another  means  of  perverting  his 
moral  sentiments,  corrupting  his  morals,  and  has- 
tening his  progress  in  the  road  to  ruin.  Man  is  a 
social  being,  formed  for  intercourse  with  his  fel- 
lows, and  dependent  on  others  for  a  large  portion 
of  his  enjoyment.  But  this  blessing,  like  every 
other,  is  capable  of  being  perverted  and  abused ; 
so  that,  in  the  present  state  of  human  nature,  there 
is  no  more  certain  means  of  hastening  a  young  man's 
ruin,  than  that  of  placing  him  in  the  society  of  cor- 
rupt associates.  PerhajDS,  no  direct  attack  may  be 
made  on  his  moral  and  religious  principles ;  nothing 
gross  and  offensive  to  delicate  and  virtuous  feelings 
may  at  first  be  presented  to  view ;  on  the  contrary, 
the  manners  of  his  new  associates  may  be  fiiscina- 


62  THE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

ting,  tlieir  attentions  kind  and  courteous,  and  tlieir 
whole  deportment  calculated  to  impress  tlie  mind 
witli  the  idea  of  frankness,  generosity,  and  other 
social  qualities.  Such  companions,  if  their  princi- 
ples be  corrupt,  and  their  practice  licentious,  are 
vastly  more  dangerous  than  the  foul-mouthed  and 
grossly  profane  profligate  ;  because  the  approaches 
of  the  one  are  repulsive,  and  of  the  other  attractive. 
The  young  man  who  can  be  pleased  with  the 
openly  profane  and  avowedly  licentious,  is  himself 
already  corrupted,  and  needs  no  aid  to  urge  him 
forward  in  the  downward  road.  But  the  compara- 
tively innocent  may  be  led  astray,  when  the  green 
path  which  he  is  invited  to  tread  is  strewed  with 
flowers,  and  the  atmosphere  around  hini  is  serene 
and  balmy.  Let  the  young  man  who  values  his 
future  peace,  beware  of  the  smiles  and  caresses  of  a 
fascinating  and  corrupt  companion ;  sooner  or  later, 
he  will  sympathize  with  his  associate,  imbibe  his 
spirit,  and  imitate  his  pi'actice. 

When  a  number  of  young  men  are  banded  to- 
gether for  the  purpose  of  seeking  criminal  self-in- 
dulgence, or  of  executing  any  evil  purpose,  an 
esiyrit  de  corps  is  generated,  and  no  one,  however 
contrary  the  acts  proposed  may  be  to  the  dictates 
of  his  conscience,  dares  to  break  ranks.  They 
move  forward  in  a  com2:>act  phalanx,  mutually  in- 
spiring each  other  with  confidence,  and  in  their 
united  capacity  do  acts  which  the  most  abandoned 
among  them  would  not  dare  to  do  separately. 
From  this  principle  it  is,  that  the  rush  of  a  mob  is 
as  blind  and  impetuous  as  the  mountain  torrent, 


JAMES     CAEN  All  AN,     D.D.  G8 

sweeping  every  thing  before  it,  and  no  one  feeling 
responsible  for  tlie  outrages  on  justice  and  hu- 
manity committed.  Eeason  has  fled,  and  the  voice 
of  conscience  is  not  heard  amidst  the  shouts  of  the 
multitude.  Let  the  young  man  who  wishes  to  pre- 
serve and  cultivate  a  sober  and  sane  mind,  beware 
of  entering  into  a  combination  to  do  evil,  how  plau- 
sible soever  may  be  the  pretext. 

Other  causes  of  infatuating  the  minds  of  young 
men  might  be  mentioned,  but  we  hasten  to  inquire 
by  what  means  this  delusion  may  be  removed,  and 
the  healthy  and  sane  state  of  mind  recommended 
by  the   Apostle   may   be   attained.     In   the  first 
place,  we  remark,  that  the  young  man  who  would 
obey  the  injunction  of  the  Apostle,  must  pause, 
consider,  and  exercise  the  faculties  of  a  rational 
being.     But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  is  this  to  be 
done,  since  this  is  the  very  point  in  which  young 
men  are  generally  deficient  ?     As  soon,  you  will 
say,  as  they  are  brought  to  think  and  act  in  a  ra- 
tional manner,  the  work  is  done — they  are  then 
sober-minded.     We  answer,  it  is  true  young  men 
are  rash,  impetuous,  and  often  wild  in  their  opin- 
ions, and  act  as  if  their  minds  were  infatuated ; 
still  they  have  reason,  although  it  is  not  exercised 
in  a  right  way ;  and  they  have  a  conscience,  al- 
though its  voice  is  not  heard  amidst  the  din  of 
their  passions  and  the  tumult  of  the  world  around 
them.     To  these  two   principles,  reason  and  con- 
science,   imperfect    and     defective    as    they    are, 
an  appeal  must  be  made.     We  must  exhort  young 
men    to  he  sober-minded.     And  if  they  will  not 


64  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

listen  and  weigh,  the  motives  presented,  they  must 
be  left  to  take  their  own  course,  and  bear  the  con- 
sequences. And  will  not  those  whom  we  address 
suspend,  at  least  for  a  short  time,  the  usual  train 
of  their  thoughts,  and  consider  whether  they  have 
not  heretofore  been  laboring  under  some  fatal 
delusion ! 

Our  first  position  which  we  wish  young  men 
seriously  to  consider  is,  that  sin  leads  to  misery. 

The  laws  of  the  moral  world  are  as  fixed  and 
certain  as  those  of  the  physical.  Whatsoever  a  man 
sowetli^  that  also  shall  he  reap^  is  as  true  in  the  one 
case  as  the  other.  And  here  you  will  notice  that 
this  truth  does  not  de^Dend  on  abstract  reasoning — 
nor  is  it  a  truth  aflirmed  by  divine  revelation  with- 
out any  confirmation  from  experience. 

That  the  tvay  of  transgressors  is  hard^  is  a  fact 
which  we  see  daily  established  by  visible  proofs. 
"What  is  the  result  of  intemperance,  of  lewdness, 
of  gaming,  of  idleness  ?  We  need  no  prophet  fo 
announce  to  us  what  will  be  the  end  of  those  who 
become  addicted  to  all,  or  to  any  of  these  sins.  We 
see  it  in  the  loss  of  property,  of  reputation,  of 
health.  We  see  it  in  our  alms-houses,  hospitals, 
and  penitentiaries ;  we  see  it  in  the  poverty  and 
wretchedness  of  helpless  families — in  the  blasted 
hopes  of  young  men,  once  of  high  promise — ^in  the 
shame  and  grief  of  broken-hearted  parents.  Does 
not  God  thus,  in  the  dispensations  of  his  Provi- 
dence, as  distinctly  pronounce  that  his  curse  rests 
on  such  as  do  these  things,  as  if  we  heard  a  voice 
coming  from  Heaven  saying — "  Woe,  woe  to  the  in- 


JAMES      C  A  R  N  A  II  A  N  ,     D  .  D  .  65 

fatuated  young  man  who  yields  liimself  to  the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  sensual  appetites  and  passions."  Yet 
these  are  the  persons  who  are  avowedly  seeking  plea- 
sure, saying  to  each  other,  in  all  the  gaiety  of  their 
hearts — "  Come,  fellows,  let  us  crown  ourselves 
with  rose-buds  ere  they  be  withered.  Let  no 
flower  of  the  spring  pass  away — let  us  drink  the 
cup  of  pleasure,  and  give  care  and  sorrow  to  the 
winds."*  Thus  far  all  is  well.  But  let  it  be  re- 
membered that  the  profane  jest  and  licentious  song 
is  the  prelude  to  pain,  and  lamentation,  and  woe. 

You  may  say  you  will  enjoy  the  pleasures  of 
youthful  folly,  and  in  mature  age  you  will  become 
soher-mmded.  Let  me  entreat  you  to  recollect  that 
mysterious  and  powerful  principle  of  your  nature 
— habit — habit.  It  has  been  aptly  called  a  second 
nature.  Ihe  Etliiopian  can  cliange  Ms  sTcin^  and 
the  leojpard  Ms  spots ^  as  soon  as  tliey  tvlio  are  accus- 
tomed to  do  evil  can  learn  to  do  ivell.  And,  if  through 
the  sovereign  grace  of  God,  a  change  in  your  char- 
acter should  take  place  in  future  life,  your  repent- 
ance will  not  prevent  many  of  the  consequences  of 
your  early  folly.  It  will  not  restore  the  opportu- 
nities of  improvement  lost  in  idleness.  It  will  not 
replace  your  wasted  property,  rej^air  your  broken 
constitution,  or  prevent  a  premature  death  occa- 
sioned by  youthful  excesses.  You  will  carry  with 
you  to  the  grave  the  scars  of  the  wounds  received 
in  the  service  of  Satan,  as  a  warning  to  others  not 
to  follow  your  example. 

•  Logan. 


66  THE     PEI^^CETON      PTJLPIT. 

Thus  far  we  have  spoken  of  such  sins  as  are 
generally  punished  in  this  life.  First,  because  we 
wished  to  have  something  visible  and  tangible. 
.  We  wished  to  show  young  men,  by  examples  daily 
presented,  that  those  who  indulge  in  such  practices 
are  sinning  against  their  own  souls — bringing  on 
themselves,  even  in  this  life,  certain  ruin.  Secondly, 
because  we  need  the  aid  of  motives  drawn  from 
self-interest  as  well  as  from  duty,  to  restrain  men 
from  sins  suljversive  of  the  order  and  peace  of  so- 
ciety, and  ruinous  to  themselves.  We  have  not 
distinctly  pointed  out  the  true  source  of  the  malady, 
nor  the  only  eifectual  means  of  restoring  men  to  a 
sound  and  sane  state  of  mind. 

The  real  cause  of  the  delusion  under  which  men 
labor  on  the  subject  of  duty,  lies  in  the  heart — in 
its  alienations  from  God,  the  source  and  pattern  of 
moral  excellence.  Men  do  not  naturally  love  God, 
and  regard  his  authority  as  supreme.  This  is  the 
prolific  fountain  of  all  the  sins  which  men  commit. 
To  remove  this  malady  which  lies  deep  within, 
there  is  no  effectual  remedy  except  that  which 
God,  in  sovereign  mercy,  has  provided.  Considera- 
tions of  self-interest  and  a  regard  to  the  happiness 
of  others  may  induce  men  to  abstain  from  the  com- 
mission of  gross  sins,  and  to  do  many  things  highly 
laudable  and  beneficial  to  mankind.  And  these 
motives  are  not  omitted  in  the  Bible,  and  ought 
not  to  be  neglected  by  the  ministers  of  the  gospel ; 
but  these  are  not  the  chief  means  on  which  we 
should  rely  to  restore  men  to  their  right  mind,  and 
to  raise  them  from  their  moral  degradation. 


JAMES      C  A  UN  All  AN,     D.D.  67 

To  tlie  question,  Wherewitlial  shall  a  young 
man  cleanse  Ms  tvay  ?  the  Psalmist  gives  the  true 
answer — By  taking  lieed  thereto  according  to  thy 
Word;  that  is,  by  making  the  Word  of  God  the 
rule  of  his  conduct.  This  will  enlighten  his  mind 
in  the  knowledge  of  duty,  and  dispel  the  delu- 
sions which  lead  many  young  men  astray.  Here  we 
are  tau^-ht  what  are  the  attributes  and  character 
of  the  great  God,  the  relation  which  we  bear  to  him 
as  creatures  and  sinners,  what  provision  he  has 
made  for  our  redemj^tion  from  sin  and  its  con- 
sequences, what  we  must  do  to  be  partakers  of 
this  salvation.  Here  is  a  perfect  rule  of  moral 
duty  placed  before  us,  and  here  are  motives  calcu- 
lated to  touch  the  heart  and  conscience.  In  this 
book  also  we  have  the  promise  of  that  aid,  without 
which  all  human  means,  to  cleanse  the  soul  from  sin, 
are  hopeless ;  and  we  are  taught  how  that  aid  is  to 
be  obtained,  namely,  by  prayer  to  the  Father  of 
Mercies  for  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

If  this  holy  book  were  diligently  studied,  and 
its  truths  believed,  how  many  errors  would  it 
remove  from  the  minds  of  young  men  !  If  its  pre- 
cepts were  j^ractised,  from  how  much  wretchedness 
and  sorrow  would  it  save  them  in  this  w^orld, 
and  with  what  bright  hopes  would  it  inspire  them 
on  entering  on  that  which  is  to  come  !  But  see,  in 
the  indifference  and  neglect,  not  to  say  the  con- 
tempt, wdth  which  too  many  young  men  treat  this 
precious  book,  the  highest  proof  of  their  folly  and 
madness.  The  grand  means  which  God  has  pro- 
vided and  appointed  to  heal  the  diseases  of  their 


68  THE      PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

minds — to  purify  their  hearts — to  guide  their  steps 
in  the  slippery  paths  of  youth,  to  secure  their 
happiness  in  this  world  and  in  the  next,  is  despised 
and  neglected !  The  book  which  informs  you  that 
God  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  your 
salvation  is  thrown  aside,  and  novels  and  romances, 
trash  calculated  to  corrupt  your  minds  and  inflame 
your  passions,  already  too  ardent,  are  sought  and 
read  with  eagerness.  If  any  such  hear  me,  I  pray 
God  to  give  you  a  better  mind — to  teach  you  that 
both  your  interest  and  your  duty  require  you  to 
take  heed  to  your  ways  according  to  tlie  Word  of 
God. 

Young  Genttemen  of  the  Senior  Class  : 

To  what  I  have  already  addressed  to  you  in 
common  with  others  of  the  same  age,  I  have  only 
a  few  words  to  add. 

Permit  me  to  remark,  that  if  at  any  period  of 
your  lives  you  need  the  exercise  of  a  sound  and 
sane  mind,  it  is  now  in  the  circumstances  in  which 
you  stand.  Having  finished  your  academical 
studies,  you  are  now  to  go  forth  into  the  world, 
and  to  be  ex2:)osed  to  many  trials  and  temptations. 

I  take  it  for  granted  that  none  of  you,  after  the 
advantages  which  you  have  enjoyed,  will  bury 
your  talents ;  that  you  will  select  some  useful 
employment  or  profession,  and  will  pursue  it  with 
diligence.  The  selection  of  a  profession  or  occupa- 
tion is  one  of  the  most  important  acts  in  the  life  of 
man.  On  a  judicious  choice  in  this  matter,  your 
success  and  happiness  during  life  greatly  depend. 
In  this  point  many  fatal  mistakes  are  made.     We 


JAMES      CAKNAIIAlSr,    D.D.  69 

have  known  young  men  wlio  had  talents  well 
adapted  to  a  particular  calling,  and  who,  through 
pride,  ambition,  or  the  desire  of  wealth,  selected 
another  for  which  they  were  not  qualified ;  and 
disappointment,  mortification,  and  disgrace  were 
the  consequence. 

In  making  your  selection  will  you  not  need  the 
exercise  of  a  sober,  discreet,  and  sound  mind  ? 
And  in  deciding  to  what  de23artment  of  business 
you  shall  devote  your  lives,  many  circumstances 
are  to  be  taken  into  view.  Can  this  be  done 
rashly,  without  thought  and  sober  reflection  ? 

Let  me  tell  you,  that  it  is  not  always  what  busi- 
ness or  profession  is  likely  to  be  the  most  profit- 
able or  honorable,  that  ought  to  determine  your 
choice — but  rather  in  what  dej^artment  you  can  be 
the  most  useful  and  answer  the  great  end  for  which 
you  were  made,  namely,  to  "  glorify  God  and  to 
enjoy  him  forever."  The  young  man,  who  leaves 
out  of  view  this  important  consideration,  errs  in  the 
very  commencement  of  his  career. 

On  this  subject  let  me  also  remark,  that  a  young 
man  ought  not  to  delay  long,  before  he  decides 
what  shall  be  the  main  business  of  his  future  life. 
"We  have  known  educated  young  men,  who  spent 
years  in  doubt  what  they  should  do ;  and  the  effect  of 
this  indecision  was  always  injurious  to  their  char- 
acter and  success  in  life.  I  have  often  been  asked 
the  question,  whether  a  young  man,  who  has  select- 
ed his  profession,  should  commence  studies  prepar- 
atory to  that  profession  immediately  on  lea\ang 
college,  or  should  devote  a  year  or  two  to  general 


70  THE     PKINCETOI^^      PULPIT. 

reading  and  improvement.  My  past  observations 
would  lead  me  to  say,  commence  your  professional 
studies  as  soon  as  practicable.  1  have  seldom  seen 
mucb  improvement  made  by  private  desultory 
reading.  Spend  tlie  longer  time  in  preparation  for 
your  profession,  and  fill  up  your  hours  of  relaxation 
with  collateral  reading.  This  course  will  tend  to 
bring  all  you  read  or  observe  to  bear  on  the  great 
business  before  you,  and  enable  you  to  collect  mate- 
rials from  all  quarters  conducive  to  your  main 
object. 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  I  have  pointed  out 
some  of  the  rocks  on  which  many  precious  youths 
have  been  lost ;  and  I  beseech  you,  by  all  your 
hopes  in  time  and  eternity,  not  to  approach  those 
coasts  whitened  with  the  bones  of  thousands. 
Your  fate  wdll  be  similar  to  that  of  those  who  have 
gone  before  you.  Such  is  the  wise  and  just  ap- 
pointment of  the  Author  of  our  being,  that  from 
the  penalty  of  his  wise  and  immutable  laws  there 
is  no  escape. 

From  marking  the  course  of  many  young  men,  I 
am  led  to  the  firm  oj^inion  that  more  fiiil  to  answer 
the  expectation  of  their  parents  and  friends  from 
the  want  of  moral  character  than  from  the  want 
of  talents.  And  did  the  occasion  permit,  we  could 
prove  from  the  nature  of  things  as  well  as  from  a 
detail  of  facts,  that  this  must  be  so. 

Independent  of  the  influence  of  regular  habits 
on  your  success  in  life,  sound  principles  and  pure 
morals  ought,  on  their  own  account,  to  be  sought 
and  cherished.     The  chief  dignity  and   glory  of 


JAMES     CARNAIIAN,     D.D.  71 

man  consists  not  so  mucTi  in  tlie  extent  of  his 
knowledge,  tlie  vigor  of  his  intellect,  and  the 
splendor  of  his  achievements,  as  in  the  integrity  of 
his  heart,  the  purity  of  his  morals,  and  in  his  para- 
mount regard  to  the  claims  of  duty.  The  most 
malignant  and  odious  being  in  the  universe  may 
have  vast  intellectual  powers,  and  may  excite  our 
admiration  and  terror,  but  he  cannot  inspire  us 
with  confidence  and  love.  But  the  good  man  who 
aims  to  do  what  is  right — who  employs  his  talents, 
whether  great  or  small,  in  faithfully  performing 
the  duties  arising  from  the  various  relations  of  life, 
"is  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

Beware,  my  young  friends,  of  imbibing  that 
erroneous  opinion,  confidently  asserted  and  zea- 
lously propagated  by  men  destitute  of  moral  prin- 
ciple, that  wildness,  eccentricity,  and  licentious 
manners  in  youth,  is  an  evidence  of  genius  and  of 
high  promise  in  future  life — that  the  government 
of  the  passions  and  a  regard  to  the  rules  of  moral 
order  is  a  proof  of  dulness  and  insignificance.  It  is 
false,  abominably  false.  That  some  men  of  splen- 
did talents,  who  were  profligate  in  youth,  have 
risen  to  high  distinction  in  after  life,  is  freely  ad- 
mitted. But  their  early  excesses  were  no  indica- 
tion of  their  future  greatness;  their  dissipation 
retarded  rather  than  hastened  their  elevation. 

Where  is  the  wretch  so  stupid,  so  brainless,  that 
he  cannot  curse,  and  drink,  and  game,  and  give  full 
scope  to  every  low,  sensual  passion  ?  And  do 
young  men  hope  that  by  imitating  the  vices  of  great 
men,  they  also  are  to  become  great  ?     Bather  let 


72  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

them  expect  by  such  means  to  sink  to  a  level  with 
the  lowest  and  meanest  of  our  race. 

Young  men,  be  sober-minded.  At  this  interesting 
period  of  life,  act  prudently,  act  wisely.  Kemem- 
ber  you  are  now  sowing  the  seed  of  the  future  har- 
vest— it  may  be  precious  grain  to  be  gathered  in 
due  season  into  the  granary  above,  or  it  may  be 
tares  to  be  burnt  with  unquenchable  fire.  As  ra- 
tional and  moral  beings  you  are  accountable  to  God 
for  your  conduct ;  and  if  you  would  secure  his  favor 
and  rise  in  the  beauties  of  holiness  to  the  true 
dignity  of  your  nature,  you  must  rej^ent  of  your 
sins,  and  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  is 
exalted  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  to  give  repent- 
ance and  remission  of  sins.  The  gospel  method  of 
making  men  good,  and  holy,  and  fit  for  heaven, 
far  excels  every  other.  It  is  adapted  to  the  sinful 
condition  of  man — suited  to  heal  the  diseases  of 
the  mind  and  of  the  heart.  The  belief  of  the  doc- 
trines, and  the  practice  of  the  precej^ts  of  the  Gos- 
pel, is  the  only  effectual  means  of  enabling  a  young 
man  to  cleanse  his  way,  to  escape  the  pollutions  of 
the  world,  and  to  prepare  for  heaven.  Take  this 
Gospel  as  the  rule  of  your  life,  the  foundation  of 
your  hopes,  and  the  charter  of  your  immortal  in- 
heritance. Did  I  know  that  you  all  had  made  your 
peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I 
could  bid  you  adieu  with  a  heart  full  of  joyful 
hopes  resj)ecting  your  future  welfare.  Then  what- 
ever ills  may  befall  you  in  life,  your  eternal  well- 
being  is  secure.  Once  more  I  say,  Young  men,  he 
sober-minded  ',   and,  in  the  sincerity  of  your  hearts, 


JAMES      CARNAIIAN,     D.D.  73 

let  eacli  one,  addressing  liis  Father  in  Heaven,  say — 
Fatlier,  from  tins  time  wilt  not  tliou  be  tlie  guide 
of  my  youtli  ?  The  Lord  hear  your  prayer,  and 
bless  you.     Amen. 


FAITH  IN  CHRIST   THE    SOURCE  OF  LIFE. 

BY 

THE  REV.  CHARLES  HODGE,  D.D., 

PROFE8S0E   OF  EXEGETICAL  AKD   DIDACTIC   TIIKOLOGT. 

"  The  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son 
of  God,  who  loved  me  and  gave  himself  for  me." — Galatians  ii.  20. 

The  cliurclies  in  Galatia  were  founded  by  tlie 
Apostle  Paul.  He  had  ai:)peared  among  tliem  in 
mucli  weakness.  There  was  something  either  in 
his  personal  appearance,  or  in  his  external  circum- 
stances, which  tended  to  excite  contempt.  But 
the  Galatian  converts  did  not  on  that  account  I'e- 
ject  him,  but  received  him  as  an  angel  of  God,  and 
even  as  Christ  Jesus.  This  devotion  to  him,  and 
to  the  gospel  which  he  preached,  was  very  short- 
lived. He  begins  his  epistle  to  them  by  expressing 
his  astonishment  that  they  had  so  soon  turned  unto 
another  gospel.  It  is  plain  from  the  course  of  his 
argument,  that  this  apostacy  was  Judaism.  The 
Galatians  had  been  induced  to  live  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  Jews,  to  consider  circumcision  and  kee-p- 
ing  the  law  necessary  to  salvation.  Paul's  object 
is  to  convince  them  that  this  apostacy,  if  persisted 
in,  must  be  fatal.  There  are  but  two  methods  of 
salvation — the  one  by  the  law,  the  other  by  grace 
— the  one  by  works,  the  other  by  faith.     These 


CHARLES      HODGE,    D.D.  75 

metliods   are   perfectly   incompati])le.     lliey   can- 
not   be    combined.      The    adoption    of    tlie    one 
is  tlie  rejection  of  tlie  otlier.     Salvation  must  be 
wholly  by  works,   or   entirely   l)y   grace.      Paul, 
therefore,  says :— "  I  testify  to  every  man  that  is 
circumcised,  that  he  is  a  debtor  to  do  the  whole 
law.     Christ  is  become  of  no  effect  to  you ;  who- 
soever of  you  are  justified  by  the  law,  ye  are  fallen 
from  grace."     By  adopting  the  legal,  you  have  re- 
jected the  gracious  method  of  justification.     It  was 
his  deep  conviction,  both  from  the  revelation  of 
God,  and  his  own  experience,  that  the  law,  in  none 
of  its  forms,  could  give  life.  Neither  the  Mosaic  in- 
stitutions nor  the  decalogue,  neither  ritualism  nor 
morality  could  avail  to  restore  sinners  from  death 
to  the  life  of  God,  and  life  with  God.     The  law,  he 
argues,  cannot  free  us  from  condemnation,  because 
we  are  sinners,  and  it  is  the  very  province  of  the 
law  to  condemn  sin.     How  can  we  be  justified  by 
that  which  condemns  ?     Neither  can  the  law  give 
spiritual   life.     It   can   only  present   the  form  of 
knowledge  and  truth.     It  cannot  change  the  heart. 
On  the  contrary,  it  exasperates  its  opposition  by 
the  extent  of  its  inexorable  demands,  so  that  it 
slays,  instead  of  giving  life.     Paul  says,  he  found 
the  law  which  was  ordained  unto  life,  to  be  unto 
death.     What  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was 
weak  through  the  flesh,  God  has  accomplished  by 
the  gospel.     He  has  set  forth  his  Son  as  the  author 
of  life,  as  the  redeemer  from  judicial  deatli,  and  tlie 
giver  of  inward  spiritual  life.     There  are  two  in- 
dispensable conditions  on  which  our  interest  in  his 


7G  the     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

salvation  is  suspended.  The  one  is,  the  renuncia- 
tion of  the  law,  or  of  the  legal  method  of  salvation  ; 
and  the  other  is,  union  with  Christ,  so  that  we  be- 
come partakers  of  the  merit  of  his  death,  and  the 
virtue  of  his  life.  I  am  dead  to  the  law,  says  the 
Apostle,  I  am  crucified  with  Christ,  nevertheless,  I 
live ;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me ;  and  the 
life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith 
in  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  me  and  gave  himself 
for  me. 

The  doctrine  of  this  passage  is,  that  faith  of 
Christ  is  the  necessary  condition  and  source  of 
spiritual  life. 

By  faith  of  Christ  is  not  meant  the  faith  which 
Christ  had.  The  faith  which  is  the  life  of  the  soul, 
is  not  mere  belief  of  the  existence  of  God,  and  of 
those  great  moral  and  religious  truths  which  are 
the  foundation  of  all  religion.  Those  who  would 
bring  revelation  down  to  the  level  of  philosophy, 
and  resolve  all  its  doctrines  into  truths  of  the  rea- 
son, tell  us  that  all  the  Bible  means  when  it  says 
we  are  saved  by  faith  and  not  by  works  is,  that 
confidence  in  God,  and  in  moral  and  religious 
truth,  is  not  only  the  source  of  virtue,  but  the  test 
of  character.  What  a  man  is,  is  determined  more 
by  this  habitual  state  of  mind,  than  by  individual 
and  outward  acts.  When  it  is  said,  Al^raham  was 
justified  by  fjxith,  they  would  have  us  understand 
that  it  was  his  inward  posture  of  mind  toward  God 
that  was  approved  and  recognised  as  the  source  of 
all  true  piety.  Here,  as  in  most  other  cases,  error 
is  negative.  The  evil  lies  not  in  what  is  afiirmed. 


CHARLES     IIODGE,    D.D.  77 

but  ill  what  is  denied.  It  is  ti'ue  that  faith  in  God 
is  the  principle  of  all  religion ;  but  it  is  far  from 
being  true  that  this  is  the  whole  import  of  the 
scripture  doctrine  of  salvation  by  faith.  It  is  cha- 
racteristic of  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  that  they 
comprehend  all  that  is  true  in  other  forms  of  reli- 
gion, while  they  contain  a  divine  element  to  which 
their  power  is  due,  which  is  to  be  found  nowhere 
else.  The  faith,  therefore,  by  which  the  Christian 
lives,  is  something  more  than  mere  faith  in  God. 

Neither  ^oes  the  faith  of  Christ,  of  which  our 
text  speaks,  mean  faith  in  that  unseen  world  which 
Christ  has  revealed.  It  is,  indeed,  true  that  the 
life  of  the  Christian  is  regulated  by  the  objects  of 
faith,  as  distinguished  from  the  objects  of  sight. 
It  is  true  that  he  walks  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight ; 
that  he  looks  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but 
at  the  things  which  are  not  seen.  It  is  true  the 
Christian  has  a  faith  which  is  the  evidence  of  things 
not  seen,  and  the  substance  of  the  things  hoped 
for.  It  is  true  that  faith,  as  the  organ  of  perceiv- 
ing what  neither  sense  nor  reason  knows,  as 
the  cognition  of  the  things  of  the  Spirit,  does 
regulate  the  Christian's  life,  determine  his  conduct? 
sustain  him  in  trial,  comfort  him  in  affliction,  and 
open  for  him  the  perennial  fountain  of  life. 
Still  this  is  not  all  the  Scriptures  teach  on  this 
subject;  nor  is  this  the  doctrine  which  they  mean 
to  inculcate,  when  they  teach  that  we  are  saved 
by  faith  ;  and  when  they  represent  faith  as  the 
source  of  spiritual  life  to  the  soul. 

Neither  is  the  truth  in  question  either  exhausted 


Is  THE      PEINCETON     PFLPIT. 

or  accurately  stated  by  saying,  tlie  faith  whicli  has 
l;his  life-giving  power  has  the  whole  word  of  God 
for  its  object.  It  is,  indeed,  admitted  that  faith 
has  respect  to  the  whole  revelation  of  God.  It  re- 
ceives all  his  doctrines,  bows  to  all  his  commands, 
trembles  at  his  threatenings,  and  rejoices  at  his 
promises.  This,  however,  is  not  the  faith  by  which 
the  Aj^ostle  lived ;  or,  rather,  it  is  not  those  acts 
of  f^iith  which  have  the  truth  of  God  in  general 
for  their  object,  which  gives  life  to  the  soul.  The 
,  doctrine  of  the  text  and  of  the  whole  New  Testa- 
ment is,  that  the  soul  is  saved,  that  spiritual  life  is 
obtained,  and  supported,  by  those  acts  of  faith 
which  have  Christ  for  their  object.  Other  things 
in  the  Word  of  God  we  may  not  know,  and,  there- 
fore, may  not  consciously  believe,  but  Christ  we 
must  know.  About  other  things  true  Christians 
may  differ ;  but  they  must  all  agree  as  to  what  they 
believe  concerning  Christ.  He  is  in  such  a  sense 
the  object  of  faith,  that  saving  faith  consists  in  re- 
ceiving and  resting  on  him  alone  for  salvation,  as 
he  is  offered  to  us  in  the  gospel.  It  consists  in  re- 
ceiving Christ — i.  e.,  in  recognising,  acknowledging, 
accepting,  and  appropriating  him,  as  he  is  held 
forth  to  us  in  the  Scripture.  It  includes,  therefore, 
a  resting  on  him  alone  for  salvation — /.  <?.,  for  justi- 
fication, sanctification,  and  eternal  life. 

That  this  is  the  true  doctrine  on  the  subject  is 
plain,  from  the  common  form  of  expression  em- 
ployed in  Scrijiture  when  the  Bible  speaks  of  faith 
in  connection  with  justification  and  life.  It  is  not  of 
faith  as  general  confidence  in  God,  nor  faith   as 


CHAELES      HODGE,    D.D.  T9 

assent  to  divine  revelation,  but  specifically  "  faith 
of  Clirist,"  tliat  is,  faith  of  whicli  Christ  is  tlie  oh-- 
ject.  Thus  the  Apostle,  in  the  earnest  and  impor- 
tant passage  whence  the  text  is  taken,  and  in  which 
he  condenses  the  whole  substance  of  the  gospel, ' 
says  three  times  over,  that  the  only  method  of  ob- 
taining justification  and  life,  is  by  those  acts  of  I 
faith  which  terminate  on  Christ.  In  the  third 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  from  verse 
21  to  the  end,  where  we  have  another  of  those 
condensed  exhiljitions  of  the  gospel,  the  same  form 
of  ex]Dression  occurs.  We  are  said  to  be  saved  by 
"  the  faith  of  Christ."  So,  too,  in  that  remarkable 
passage,  Phil.  iii.  1 — 14,  in  which  he  contrasts 
the  two  systems — the  legal  and  evangelical — Juda- 
ism and  the  gospel,  he  ascribes  the  power  of  the 
latter  to  secure  justification  and  life  to  "  the  faith 
of  Christ."  The  same  doctrine  is  taught  in  all  those 
passages  in  which  we  are  required  to  helieve  in 
Ohrist  in  order  to  salvation.  The  specific  act 
which  is  everywhere  declared  to  be  essential,  is  to 
believe  on  the  Son  of  God.  He  that  believeth  on 
the  Son,  it  is  said,  hath  life ;  he  that  believeth  not 
the  Son,  shall  not  see  life,  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him.  The  Apostle  John  insists  much 
on  this  jDoint.  Whosoever  believeth  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ,  is  born  of  God.  "WTiosoever  shall  confess 
that  Jesus  is  the  Sou  of  God,  God  dwelleth  in  him, 
and  he  in  God.  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
and  thou  shall  be  saved,  is  the  message  which  the 
Gospel  brings  to  every  creature.  This  doctrine  is 
taught,  also,  by  all  those  passages  which  declare 


80  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

Christ  to  be  our  life.  It  is  by  union  with  him 
we  live.  Our  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  It  is 
not  we  that  live,  but  Christ  that  liveth  in  us.  The 
life  which  we  now  live  in  the  flesh  is  by  faith  of 
the  Son  of  God.  The  whole  scheme  of  redemption 
is  founded  on  this  truth.  Men  are  dead  in  trespass- 
es and  sins.  They  cannot  be  delivered  from  this 
state  by  any  works  or  efforts  of  their  own.  Neither 
can  they  come  to  God  without  a  mediator.  Christ 
is  the  only  medium  of  access ;  therefore  faith  in 
him  is  the  indispensable  condition  of  salvation. 
Whatever  else  we  may  believe,  it  will  avail  us 
nothing  unless  we  exercise  faith  in  Him ;  and, 
therefore,  the  specific  act  which  sinners  are  called 
upon  to  perform,  is  to  come  to  Christ ;  to  look  to 
him ;  to  flee  to  him  as  a  refuge ;  to  lay  hold  on 
I  him  as  a  helper  ;  to  confide  in  hun  as  the  propitia- 
f  tion  for  their  sins ;  to  commit  themselves  to  him 
as  their  High  Priest.  In  all  these,  and  in  many 
other  ways,  are  we  clearly  taught  that  Christ  is 
the  immediate  object  of  that  faith  which  is  con- 
nected with  hfe  and  salvation.  This  is  so  plain 
and  so  important  that  our  Catechism  defines  the 
faith  which  saves  the  soul  to  be  that  grace,  where- 
by we  received  rest  on  Christ  alone  for  salvation, 
as  he  is  offered  to  us  for  salvation.  It  is  not,  there- 
fore, by  faith  in  God  as  God,  nor  by  faith  in  divine 
revelation ;  but  by  faith  in  Christ,  that  is,  by 
[those  acts  of  faith  w^hich  have  him  for  their  imme- 
[diate  object,  that  the  soul  is  freed  from  condemna- 
tion, and  made  partaker  of  divine  life. 

But  what  is  meant  by  faith  in  Christ  ?     AVhat 


CHARLES      HODGE,    D.D.  81 

are  those  truths  concerning*  Christ  which  we  are 
required  to  believe  ?  Thanks  be  to  God  for  the 
distinctness  with  which  this  all-important  question 
is  answered  in  his  word.  We  have  that  answer 
summed  up  in  the  passage  before  us.  There  are 
three  things  which  we  must  believe,  or  our  faith  is 
dead, — First,  That  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God. 
Second,  That  he  loves  iis.  Third,  That  he  gave 
himself  fo)'  us. — All  these  are  essential  elements  in 
that  faith  which  gives  life  to  the  soul. 

First,  We  must  believe  that  Christ  is  the  Son  of 
God.  Both  the  divinity  and  incarnation  of  the 
object  of  our  faith  are  included  in  this  expression. 
The  designation.  Son  of  God,  is  applied  in  Scrip- 
ture to  the  divine  nature  of  Christ,  and  implies  his 
essentia:l  equality  with  God.  God  is  in  such  a  sense 
his  Father  that  he  is  equal  with  God,  of  the  same 
nature  or  substance,  possessing  the  same  attributes, 
bearing  the  same  titles,  performing  the  same  works, 
and  entitled  to  the  same  conffdence,  obedience,  and 
worship.  In  this  light  He  is  set  forth  as  the  object 
of  hope  in  the  Old  Testament.  In  this  light  He 
exhibited  himself  when  he  appeared  on  earth, 
teaching  in  his  own  name,  working  miracles  by  his 
own  power,  claiming  for  himself  the  love,  con- 
fidence, and  obedience  due  to  God  alone,  asserting 
his  power  to  save  all  who  come  to  him,  promisii  g 
to  raise  the  dead,  and  foretelling  his  coming  to 
judge  the  world  at  the  last  day.  These  claims 
were  authenticated  by  the  manifestation  of  the 
glory  of  God  in  his  character  and  life,  so  that  those 
who  were  with  him  beheld  his  glory  as  of  the  only 


82  THE     PRINCETON     PTJLPIT. 

begotten  Son  of  God,  and  knew  He  was  indeed  tlie 
true  God  and  eternal  life.  God  confirmed  these 
claims  by  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying :  "  This  is  my 
beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased ;"  by  the 
works  which  he  gave  him  to  do,  and  by  raising  him 
from  the  dead,  thereby  proclaiming  with  power  that 
he  was  the  Son  of  God.  The  Aj)ostles  received, 
worshipped,  and  preached  him  as  the  true  God. 
They  j^roclaimed  themselves  and  all  their  fellow- 
Christians  to  be  the  worshippers  of  Christ,  and  the 
great  object  of  their  mission  (as  it  is  to  this  day  the 
great  end  of  the  ministry)  was  to  bring  men  to 
know,  worshij^,  and  obey  Christ  as  God.  It  is, 
therefore,  one  of  the  essential  elements  of  faith  in 
Christ  to  believe  in  his  divinity.  This,  however, 
necessarily  includes  faith  in  his  incarnation,  because 
all  the  designations  applied  to  Christ  belong  to  him 
as  an  historical  person.  Jesus  Christ  is  the  name 
of  a  person  who  was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  who 
suffered  under  Pontius  Pilate,  was  crucified,  dead, 
and  buried,  who  rose  again  on  the  third  day, 
ascended  into  heaven,  and  is  now  seated  at  the  right 
hand  of  God.  Everything  taught  concerning  Christ, 
is  taught  concerning  that  person.  He,  that  is,  the 
person  who  was  thus  born,  who  thus  suftered,  died, 
and  rose  again,  is  the  Son  of  God,  that  is,  a  divine 
person.  This,  of  course,  supposes  that  He  became 
flesh  and  dwelt  amono^  us.  Faith  of  the  Son  of 
God  is,  therefore,  necessarily  faith  in  the  incarna- 
tion. It  is  faith  in  Christ  as  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh.  This  is  so  prominent  and  so  imjDortant  an 
element  in  saving  faith,  that  it  may  be  said  to  in- 


CHARLES     IIODGE,    D.D.  83 

elude  all  otliers.     Hence  the  Apostle  says :  "  Who- 
soever believeth  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God,  God 
dwelleth  in  him,  and  he  in  God ;"  and,  "  Every 
spirit  that  eonfesseth  that  Jesus  Christ  is  come  in 
the  flesh,  is  of  God."     That  faith,  therefore,  which 
has  power  to  give  life,  has  the  incarnate  God  for  its 
object.     It  contemplates  and  receives  that  histori- 
cal person,  Jesus  Christ,  who  was  born  in  Beth- 
lehem, who  lived  in  Judea,  who  died  on  Calvary,  as 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh.    Any  other  faith  than  this 
is  unbelief.     To  believe  hi  Christ,  is  to  receive  him  • 
in  his  true  character.     But  to  regard  him,  who  is 
truly  God,  as  a  mere  creature,  is  to  deny,  reject, 
and  to  despise  him.     It  is  to  refuse  to  recognise 
him  in  the  very  character  in  which  He  is  presented 
for  our  acceptance.   If  this  truth  be  hid,  "  it  is  hid," 
says  the  Apostle,  "  to  them  that  are  lost ;  in  whom 
the  God  of  this  w^orld  hath  blinded  the  eyes  of 
them  that  believe  not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious 
gospel  of  Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  God,  should 
shine  unto  them.     For  God,  who  commanded  the 
light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  hath  shined  into  our 
hearts,  to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."     Saving 
fliith,  then,  is  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.     It  is  perceiving  and 
reco«-nising  him  to  be  the  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  substance.   This 
is   that  knowledge  for  which   Paul  said  he  was 
willing  to  sufter  the  loss  of  all  things  ;  and  which 
our  blessed  Lord  himself  declared  to  be  eternal 
life. 


84  THE     PRINCETOjS^      PULPIT. 

The  necessity  of  faith  in  tlie  divinity  and  incar- 
nation of  our  Lord,  to  the  saving  power  of  faith,  is 
further  plain,  because  a  Saviour  less  than  divine,  is 
no  Saviour.  The  blood  of  no  mere  man  is  an  ade- 
quate atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 
The  righteousness  of  no  creature  is  an  adequate 
foundation  for  the  justification  of  sinners.  The 
assurance  of  the  gift  of  eternal  life  is  mockery  from 
any  other  lips  than  those  of  God.  It  is  only  be- 
cause Jesus  is  the  Lord  of  Glory,  the  Son  of  God, 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  that  his  blood  cleanses 
from  all  sin,  that  his  righteousness  is  infinite  in 
value,  sufficient  to  cover  the  greatest  guilt,  to  hide 
the  greatest  deformity,  and  to  secure  even  for  the 
chief  of  sinners  admission  into  heaven.  The  ranks 
of  angels  give  way  to  allow  any  one  to  enter  and 
ascend,  who  appears  clothed  in  the  righteousness 
of  God.  Yes,  the  righteousness  of  God  ;  and  any 
righteousness  short  of  his,  would  be  of  no  avaiL 
Faith  draws  her  power  to  give  life  to  the  soul ;  to 
free  from  the  sentence  of  death  ;  to  speak  peace  to 
the  troubled  conscience  only  from  the  divine  cha- 
racter of  its  object.  It  is  only  an  almighty,  an 
ever  present,  an  infinite  Saviour,  who  is  suited  to 
the  exigencies  of  a  ruined  immortal. 

It  must  also  be  remembered,  that  it  is  to  the 
spiritually  dead  to  whom  Christ  is  declared  to  be 
the  author  of  life.  But  no  creature  is  life-giving. 
It  is  only  He  who  has  life  in  himself  that  is  able  to 
give  life  unto  others.  It  is  because  Christ  is  God ; 
because  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  dwells  in 
him,  that  he  is  the  source  of  spiritual  life  to  us. 


C  II  A  K  L  E  S      II  O  D  Ct  E  ,    D  .  D  .  85 

God  only  liatli  life  in  himself,  and  all  creatures 
live  in  liiin.  If,  tlierefore,  Christ  is  our  life,  he 
must  be  our  God. 

Spiritual  life,  moreover,  supposes  divine  perfec- 
tion in  the  object  on  which  its  exercises  terminate. 
It  is  called  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul,  not  only  be- 
cause God  is  its  source,  but  also  because  He  is  its 
object.  The  exercises  in  which  that  life  consists,  or 
by  which  it  is  manifested,  must  terminate  on  in- 
finite excellence.  The  fear,  the  admiration,  the 
gratitude,  the  love,  the  submission,  the  devotion, 
which  belong  to  spiritual  life,  are  raised  to  the 
height  of  religious  affections  only  by  the  infinitude 
of  their  object.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  that  the- 
soul  can  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  unless 
it  believes  him  to  be  divine.  It  is  the  exhibition 
of  divine  perfection  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ, 
through  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  calls 
forth,  in  the  benumbed  and  lifeless  soul,  the  aspira- 
tions and  outgoings  of  the  spiritual  life.  It  is  the 
glory  of  God  as  thus  made  known,  thus  softened, 
and  brought  down  to  our  apprehension,  and  re- 
vealed in  its  manifold  relations  to  us,  that  brings 
us  into  that  communion  with  the  divine  nature  in 
Avhich  our  life  consists.  Nothing  is  more  clearly 
taught  in  Scripture  than  that  Christ  is  the  object 
of  the  life  of  God  in  the  souls  of  his  people.  He  is 
the  object  of  their  supreme  love,  of  their  adoration, 
of  their  confidence,  of  their  devotion  and  ol)edi- 
ence.  The  whole  New  Testament  is  a  hymn  of 
praise  to  Christ.  The  whole  Church  is  prostrate  at 
his  feet ;  and  whenever  heaven  has  been  opened  to 


86  TUE     PKIjS^CETOiSr     PULPIT. 

the  eyes  of  mortals,  its  inliabitants  were  seen  bow- 
ing before  tlie  tlirone  of  tlie  Lamb.  To  live  by 
faitli  of  tlie  Son  of  God,  therefore,  is  to  live  by  be- 
lieving liim  to  be  divine.  Tlie  feitli  wbicli  gives 
life  to  the  soul,  is  tlie  cognition,  or  spiiitual  appre- 
hension of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  person  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Without  this,  fiiith  is  dead,  and  the  soul 
turns  its  leaden  eye  on  an  eclij^sed  sun. 

The  second  great  truth  we  must  believe  concern- 
ing Christ,  is  his  love.     It  is  not  enough  that  we  be- 
lieve he  loves  others,  we  must  believe  that  he  loves 
us.     Paul  said,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of 
God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me.    This 
means,  first   negatively,  that  we  do  not  exclude 
ourselves  from  the  number  of  those  who  are  the 
ol:)jects  of  Christ's  love.     This  is  really  to  reject 
him  as  our  Saviour,  while  we  admit  he  may  be 
the  Saviour  of  others.     This  is   a  very  common 
form  of  unbelief.     The  soul  under  a  sense  of  sin, 
is  disposed  to  think  there  is  something  peculiar  in 
its  case ;  something  either  in  the  number  or  the 
aggravation  of  its  sins,  which  makes  it  an  excep- 
tion.    It,  therefore,  does  not  believe  that  Christ 
loves  it.     It  thinks  this  would  be  presumptuous, 
supposing  that  to  be  the  object  of  Christ's  love 
,  we  must  be  lovely.     It  forgets  the  great,  salient, 
/  •  life-giving  truth  of  the  Gospel,  that  God  loves  his 
\  enemies,  the  ungodly,  the  j^olluted,  and  by  loving 
y  makes  them  lovely.     Alas  !  Did  he  not  love  us, 
\  until  we  loved  him,  we  should  j^erish  in  our  sins. 
.  The  love  of  God  is  the  love  of  a  father — it  has  a 
hidden  source,  and  is  not  founded  on  the  charac- 


CHARLES     nODGE,D.D.  87 

ter  of  its  objects.  It  is  unbelief,  therefore,  liow- 
ever  it  may  assume  the  specious  garb  of  humility, 
to  exclude  om'selves  from  the  number  of  those 
whom  Christ  loves.  So  long  as  we  do  this  we 
exclude  ourselves  from  His  salvation.  The  secpnd 
or  positive  aspect  of  the  truth  contained  in  this 
part  of  our  text  is,  that  we  must  appropriate  to 
'ourselves,  personally  and  individually,  the  general 
assurance  and  promise  of  the  love  of  Christ.  Faitb 
is  not  mere  assent  to  the  proposition  that  God  is 
merciful ;  but  trust  in  his  mercy  to  us.  It  is  not 
a  mere  assent  to  th.e  truth  that  Christ  loved  sinners ; 
but  it  is  the  appropriation  of  his  love  to  ourselves ; 
a  believing  tliat  be  loves  us.  It  is  not  necessary  in 
order  to  justify  this  appropriation,  that  there 
sliould  be  any  special  revelation  that  we,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  others,  are  the  objects  of  Divine 
love.  The  general  declaration  is  made  that  God 
is  merciful.  The  general  promise  is  made  that  be 
will  receive  all  who  come  to  him  through  Christ. 
To  appropriate  these  general  declarations,  is  to 
believe  that  tbey  are  true,  not  in  relation  to  others 
merely,  but  to  us.  We  credit  the  assurance  of 
God's  love  ;  we  look  up  to  him  as  prop)itious  ;  we 
say  to  bim.  Our  Father  ;  we  regard  him  not  as  an 
enemy,  but  as  a  friend,  for  Christ's  sake.  This  is 
faith.  It  is  precisely  because  it  is  so  hard  to  be- 
lieve that,  notwithstanding  our  unworthiness,  God 
loves  us,  that  the  Scriptures  are  so  full  of  assur- 
ances of  his  mercy,  and  that  so  many  illustrations 
are  employed  to  set  fortb  the  greatness  and  free- 
ness  of  his  love.     God,  it  is  said,  hath  commended 


88  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

his  love  towards  us,  in  tliat  wliile  we  were  yet 
sinners,  Clirist  died  for  us.  Herein  is  love,  not 
that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent 
his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.  This 
also  is  the  reason  why  the  way  in  which  God  can 
be  just  and  yet  justify  the  ungodly  is  so  distinctly 
set  forth  in  His  word ;  and  why  we  are  exhorted 
to  come  with  boldness  to  the  throne  of  grace ;  to 
draw  nigh  with  confidence  ;  to  come  with  even  the 
full  assurance  of  faith.  This,  too,  is  the  reason 
why  we  are  reproved  for  doubting  the  mercy  of 
God,  for  distrusting  his  promises,  or  questioning 
his  love.  And  this  is  the  reason  why  such  bless- 
ings are  pronounced  on  those  who  trust  in  the 
Lord.  This  again  is  faith.  Trusting  in  the  Lord, 
is  believing.  It  is  taking  him  at  his  word,  when 
he  offers  us  his  mercy,  and  assures  us  of  his  love. 
There  are  all  degrees  of  this  faith.  It  may  be 
exercised  with  an  assurance  which  excludes  all 
doubt,  or  with  a  diffidence  which  scarcely  admits 
of  hope.  It  may  alternate  with  doubt,  and 
be  attended  with  many  misgivings.  Still  the 
thing  believed  is,  that  Christ  loves  us.  "When, 
says  Calvin,  the  least  drop  of  faith  is  instilled  into 
our  minds,  we  begin  to  see  the  serene  and  placid 
face  of  our  reconciled  Father,  dimly  and  afar  it 
may  be,  but  still  it  is  seen.  A  man  in  a  dungeon 
may  have  no  light  but  through  a  crevice.  Oh ! 
how  different  is  this  from  the  bright  light  of  day. 
It  is,  however,  light.  Thus  the  feeblest  faith  and 
the  strongest  assurance  differ  m  degree,  and  not  in 
their  nature  or  their  object.     The  love  of  God  in 


CHAP.  LES      IIODaE,    D.D.  89 

Christ  is  tlie  object  of  botli.  The  one  sees  that 
love  glancing  through  the  clouds,  or  stealing 
through  a  crevice  ;  the  other  sees  it  as  the  sun  at 
noon.  Still  the  thino^  seen,  and  the  act  of  seeinor 
are  in  both  cases  the  same. 

Faith  in  Christ,  therefore,  includes  faith  in  his 
love  towards  us.  The  life  of  the  soul  consists  in 
communion  with  God.  There  can  be  no  commu- 
nion with  God,  without  faith  in  his  love.  We  must 
believe  that  he  loves  us,  in  order  that  we  should 
love  him.  We  love  God,  says  the  Apostle,  because 
he  first  loved  us.  His  love  is  the  liijht  and  heat 
w^hich  calls  our  love  into  being  and  exercise ;  and 
the  faith  w^hich  gives  life  to  the  soul,  must  include 
the  belief  that  Christ  loves  us.  This  is  the  fountain 
of  life.  That  a  being  so  exalted  and  glorious  should 
love  us,  who  are  so  unworthy  and  worthless,  fills 
the  soul  with  wonder  and  gratitude.  It  calls  forth 
all  its  activity,  and  fills  it  with  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory. 

The  third  element  included  in  the  life-^ivino^ 
faith  of  which  the  Aj)ostle  sj)eaks,  is  believing  that 
Christ  gave  himself  for  us,  i.  e.^  that  he  died  for 
us.  This  again  includes  two  things — first,  faith 
in  his  vicarious  death  as  an  atonement  for  sin ;  and 
second,  faith  in  his  death  as  a  propitiation  for  our 
own  indi\'idual  or  personal  sins.  Both  of  these  are 
necessary.  We  must  believe  not  only  that  Christ 
has  made  an  atonement  for  sm ;  but  that  he  died 
for  US,  that  our  sins  are  washed  away  in  his  blood. 
Tliis  is  plain,  because  faith  in  Christ  is  the  act  of 
7 


90  THE      PEINCETOl^      PULPIT. 

receiving  and  resting  on  liim,  as  lie  is  offered  in  the 
gospel,  for  our  own  personal  salvation. 

It  cannot  be  necessary  to  prove  before  a  Cliistian 
audience,  that  Christ  is  set  forth  in  the  gospel  as  a 
propitiation  for  sin,  and  that  faith  in  him  involves 
the  receiving  and  resting  upon  him  in.  that  charac- 
ter. The  Bible  clearly  teaches  on  this  subject — 
first,  in  general  terms,  that  Christ  died  for  us  ;  se- 
condly, that  the  design  of  his  death  was  to  reconcile 
us  to  God ;  thirdly,  that  his  death  accomplishes 
this  design,  because  it  was  a  sacrifice,  or  propitiation 
for  sin,  or  because  he  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree  ;  fourthly,  that  we  are,  therefore,  justi- 
fied meritoriously,  not  by  works,  but  by  the  blood 
or  righteousness  of  Christ,  and,  instrumentally,  by 
faith.  These  are  plain  Scriptural  doctrines.  Faith 
in  Christ,  therefore,  must  include  the  belief  of  these 
doctrines.  To  regard  him  merely  as  a  teacher,  or 
merely  as  a  sovereign,  or  merely  as  the  means  by 
which  a  new  and  divine  element  has  l)een  intro- 
duced into  our  nature,  is  to  reject  him  as  a  sacrifice 
for  sin.  It  is  to  refuse  to  be  saved  by  his  blood. 
It  is  not,  however,  sufficient  that  we  should  believe 
the  doctrine  of  atonement.  This  angels  believe ; 
this  devils  believe ;  this  millions  of  our  race 
believe,  who  yet  die  in  their  sins.  It  is  not 
enough  that  we  should  stand  as  wondering 
spectators  round  the  cross  of  Lord  of  Glory. 
It  is  not  enough  that  we  should  see  others 
wash  their  robes  and  make  them  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb ;  we  must  appropriate  the 
merit  of  his  death  ;  we  must  lay  our  hand  on  the 


CHARLES      HODGE,     D  .  D  .  9 

head  of  tlie  victim;  we  must  have  his  blood 
sprinkled  on  our  own  conscience  ;  we  must  accept 
him  as  the  propitiation  of  our  sins,  and  believe 
that  God  for  his  sake,  is  reconciled  to  us.  This  is 
faith  indeed !  To  believe  that  God,  for  Christ's 
sake,  is  propitious ;  that  he  loves  us ;  that  he 
regards  us  as  his  children,  and  has  adopted  us  as 
his  sons  and  daughters.  Until  we  thus  take  Christ 
for  our  own,  we  have  nothing  wherewith  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  the  law,  or  claims  of  justice; 
nothing  wherewith  we  can  appease  a  guilty  con- 
science. But  being  justified  by  faith,  we  have 
peace  with  God  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  his  glory. 

He,  then,  that  has  the  faith  by  which  Paul  lived, 
is  able  to  say  with  Paul,  I  believe  Jesus  is  the  Son 
of  God,  or  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  I  believe  he 
loves  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me.  However  weak 
and  faltering  our  faith  may  be,  if  we  have  any  sav- 
ing faith  at  all,  this  is  what  we  believe. 

If  such  be  the  doctrine  of  the  text  and  of  the 
Scriptures,  it  answers  two  most  important  ques- 
tions,— First,  it  tells  the  anxious  inquirer  definitely 
what  he  must  do  to  be  saved.  There  are  times  of 
exigency  in  every  man's  experience — times  in  which 
the  question,  what  we  must  do  to  be  saved,  must 
be  answered  without  delay,  and  with  clearness  and 
authority.  It  is  well  to  have  the  answer  which 
God  has  given  to  this  question  graven  on  the  palms 
of  our  hands.  We  shall  need  to  read  it  sometimes 
when  our  sight  is  very  dim.  In  such  seasons  of 
emergency,  the  soul  is  apt  to  get  confused,  and  its 
vision  wandering  and  indistinct.   The  mind  becomes 


92  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

distracted  in  tlie  multitude  of  its  thoughts  ;  it  looks 
inward  to  determine  tlie  character  of  its  own  ex- 
perience ;  it  looks  outward,  and  with  unsteady  eye 
gazes  all  around  for  some  source  of  help.  The  voice 
of  the  Son  of  God  on  the  cross  is :  Look  unto  me. 
The  voice  of  his  messengers  is  :  Believe  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.  This  is  much. 
But  still  the  anxious  question  arises — What  must  I 
believe  ?  Here  comes  the  definite  answer  from  the 
/  lips  of  Paul :  Believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God 
\  -^that  he  loves  you — that  he  gave  himself  for  you. 

<If  you  believe  this,  you  will  also  believe  that  God 
for  Christ's  sake  is  reconciled  to  you ;  that  your 
sins  are  forgiven  ;  that  Christ  is  made  of  God  unto 
you  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  re- 
demption. Do  not  then,  in  these  hours  of  trial, 
allow  yourself  to  be  careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things.  This  is  the  one  thing  needful.  If 
you  thus  believe,  your  salvation  is  secure.  But 
must  I  not  be  born  again  in  order  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ?  Certainly  you  must.  Regene- 
ration, however,  is  something  to  be  experienced. 
Beheving  is  something  to  be  done.  The  former  is 
God's  work — the  latter  is  yours.  Do  your  part, 
and  you  will  find  that  His  is  already  done.  When 
Christ  said  to  the  man  with  the  withered  arm: 
Stretch  forth  thy  hand ;  he  did  not  wait  to  ascer- 
tain whether  his  arm  was  restored  before  he  obey- 
ed, although  stretching  forth  his  hand  pre-supposed 
the  restoration  of  his  limb.  Let  not  the  man, 
therefore,  who  is  seeking  his  salvation,  be  deluded 
by  a  false  philosophy,  and  because  faith  implies  re- 


CIIAKLES      IIODGE,     D.D.  93 

generation,  refuse  to  believe  nntil  lie  knows  lie  is 
regenerated.  His  simple  duty  is  to  believe  tliat 
Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God  ;  tliat  he  loved  us,  and  died 
for  us ;  and  that  God  for  his  sake  is  reconciled  to 
us.  Let  him  do  this  and  he  will  find  peace,  love,  i 
joy,  wonder,  gratitude  and  devotion  filling  his ' 
heart  and  controlling  his  hfe. 

The  second  question  answered  by  the  doctrine  of 
the  text  is :  How  the  divine  life  in  the  soul  of  the 
believer  is  to  be  sustained  and  invigorated.  Paul 
said  the  life  which  he  lived,  he  lived  by  faith  in  the 
Son  of  God,  who  loved  him,  and  gave  himself  for 
him.  The  clearer  the  views  we  can  attain  of  the 
divine  glory  of  the  Redeemer,  the  deeper  our  sense 
of  his  love,  and  the  stronger  our  assurance  that  he 
gave  himself  for  us,  the  more  of  spiritual  life  shall 
we  have ;  the  more  of  love,  reverence,  and  zeal ; 
the  more  humility,  peace,  and  joy ;  and  the  more 
strength  to  do  and  suffer  in  the  cause  of  Christ. 
We  should  then  regard  all  things  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord.  We  should  glory  even  in  infirmities  and 
afflictions,  that  His  strength  might  be  the  more 
manifested  in  our  weakness.  Death  would  bear  a 
smilino-  aspect,  for  we  should  have  a  constant  de- 
sire to  depart  and  be  with  Christ. 

The  great  duty  then  inculcated  in  the  text  is  to 
look  away  from  ourselves,  and  to  look  only  unto 
Christ ;  to  contemplate  him  as  God  manifested  in 
the  flesh,  loving  us,  and  giving  himself  for  us.  The 
text  calls  upon  us  to  suppress  all  doubts  of  his  love 
as  the  suggestions  of  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief;  to 


94  THE     PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

cherisli  tlie  assurance  tliat  nothing  can  separate  us 
from  him ;  that  having  loved  us  while  enemies,  and 
died  for  us  while  sinners,  he  will  love  us  unto  the 
end.  Believing  this,  we  shall  not  only  have  perfect 
peace,  but  we  shall  feel  that  the  entire  devotion  of 
our  heart  and  life  is  the  only  return  we  can  make 
for  the  love  of  Christ  which  passes  knowledge. 

"  Now,  unto  him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us 
from  our  sins  in  his  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings 
and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Father,  to  him  be 
glory  and  dominion  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen." 


FILIAL  PIETY. 


THE  REV.  JOHN  MACLEAN,  D.D., 

TICE-PRESIDENT    OF    THE    COLLEGE    OF    NEW    JERSEY. 


Proverbs  xxiii.  2.5.—"  Thy  father  and  thy  mother  shall  be  glad ;  and  she 
that  bare  thee  shall  rejoice." 

In  urging  youtli  to  walk  in  the  paths  of  virtue 
and  of  piety,  we  cannot  err  in  appealing  to  their 
filial  feelings,  inasmuch  as  the  sacred  writers  often 
do  this  very  thing.  Ees23ect  and  love  for  parents 
are  not,  indeed,  the  motives  which  operate  with  the 
greatest  force  uj)on  minds  renewed  by  the  Spirit 
of  grace  and  truth.  With  such  the  most  powerful 
incentives  to  action  are  those  which  derive  their 
origin  from  the  relation  we  sustain  to  God,  the 
author  of  life  and  of  salvation.  Those  who  have 
a  right  apprehension  of  this  relation,  and  feel  most 
deeply  the  obligations  resulting  from  it,  are  also 
the  very  persons  who  appreciate  most  correctly 
their  indebtedness  to  parental  love  and  tenderness. 
For,  in  their  case,  not  only  do  the  instinctive  feel- 
ings of  love  and  reverence  for  father  and  for 
mother  render  us  desirous  to  please  and  honour  those 
from  whom  we  are  sprung,  but  this  very  desire  is 
strengthened  and  even  increased  by  the  still  strong- 
er one,  to  please  and  honour  God,  who  constituted 
that  most  intimate  and  tender  relation  between 


96  THE    PRIlSrCETON    PULPIT. 

parents  and  cliildren ;  and  wlio  has  enjoined,  in 
terms  most  explicit,  tlie  fall  discharge  of  all  filial 
obligations,  promising  Lis  favor  to  the  obedient, 
and  denouncing  his  judgments  against  the  rebel- 
lious. 

Upon  these  promises  and  threatenings,  it  is  not 
my  purpose  at  present  to  insist,  nor  shall  I  dwell 
upon  your  obligations;  but,  assuming  that  my 
youthful  hearers,  notwithstanding  any  aberrations 
of  which  they  may  be  conscious,  are  not  altogether 
strangers  to  the  joy  experienced  by  those  whose 
constant  aim  it  is  to  honour  and  to  please  their  pa- 
rents, I  shall  proceed  to  point  out  the  course  you 
must  each  one  pursue,  in  order  that  it  may  be  said 
to  you  in  the  words  of  our  text,  "  Thy  father  and 
thy  mother  shall  be  glad,  and  she  that  bare  thee 
shall  rejoice." 

x\nd  here,  let  me  request  you  to  call  to  mind  the 
feelings  with  which  you  left  your  homes  for  this 
the  place  of  your  education.  When,  with  faltering 
voice,  your  father  bade  you  '■^  farewell^'^  and  unable 
it  may  be  to  express  herself  in  words,  your  mother 
bathed  your  cheek  with  tears,  and  in  silence  parted 
from  the  son  of  her  love  and  of  her  prayers,  did  it 
then  enter  your  mind,  that  you  could  ever  pursue 
any  course  that  would  give  pain  to  that  mother's 
breast,  or  disappoint  the  fond  hopes  of  that  kind 
father  ?  Your  purpose,  I  venture  to  say,  as  far  as 
any  was  formed,  was  to  be  a  diligent  and  orderly 
student,  and  to  repay  your  father  and  your  mother's 
love  by  a  strict  attention  to  their  advice,  and  by  a 
virtuous   and  exemplary   deportment.     You  then 


JOUN     MACLEAN,     D.D.  97 

felt  tliat  if  you  could  only  meet  tlieir  wishes  and 
exi:>ectations,  your  liigliest  ambition  would  be  satis- 
fied. Were  not  tliese  feelings  riglit,  and  pure,  and 
honourable  ?  Would  you  desire  to  be  freed  from 
tliem  ?  Would  you  not  rather  that  they  should 
remain  in  their  full  force,  and  act  as  a  constant  sti- 
mulant to  the  performance  of  duty  ?  Cherish  then 
these  feelings,  my  young  friends.  Both  their  direct 
and  indirect  influence  can  be  none  other  than  good 
and  pleasant.  The  very  desire  to  do  right  is  itself 
a  source  of  pleasure  to  the  mind  in  which  such  de- 
sire exists ;  and  the  pleasure  given  to  others  by  our 
correct  deportment  becomes,  in  turn,  a  gratification 
to  ourselves.  As  it  respects  some  of  you,  I  know 
that  your  beloved  parents  are  numbered  with  the 
dead.  To  you  I  would  say,  let  reverence  for  their 
memory  prompt  you  to  pursue  that  course  which 
you  know  would  have  gladdened  their  hearts,  had 
they  lived  to  be  witnesses  of  your  conduct. 

It  is  sometimes  the  case,  that  an  ingenuous 
youth  is  more  influenced  by  the  recollection  of  the 
counsels  of  a  departed  father  or  mother,  than  he 
would  have  been  by  the  same  counsels,  had  that 
father  or  mother  not  been  taken  from  him ;  and 
never,  in  any  circumstances,  does  filial  piety  appear 
more  lovely  and  attractive.  Whatever,  then,  be 
your  present  relations  to  your  parents — whether 
they  are  still  spared  to  watch  over  your  steps  and 
to  guide  you  in  the  paths  of  virtue  and  piety  by 
their  example  and  counsels,  or  whether  they  have 
one  or  both  been  removed  to  the  world  of  spirits — • 
let  me,  I  pray,  have  your  attention  while  I  endea- 


98  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

vour  to  set  before  you  tlie  course  to  be  pursued  by 
tliose  wlio  would  be  tlieir  parents'  joy  and  crown  of 
rejoicing. 

In  attempting  tliis,  I  sliall  follow  tbe  footsteps 
of  the  inspired  author  of  our  text,  and,  with  him, 
I  exhort  you : 

I.  To  cultivate  a  reverence  for  parental  counsels 
and  authority.  "  My  son,"  says  Solomon,  "  hear  the 
instruction  of  thy  father,  and  forsake  not  the  law 
of  thy  mother." — Proverbs  i.  8.  Again  he  says, 
"  Hearken  unto  thy  father  that  begat  thee,  and  de- 
spise not  thy  mother  when  she  is  old." — Proverbs 
xxiii.  22. 

The  remarks  of  Bishop  Patrick  on  the  first  of 
these  passages  are  worthy  of  serious  thought — 
"Not  only  hearken  to  thy  father,  when  he  teaches 
thee  to  fear  God,  but  let  thy  mother's  commands 
be  a  law  unto  thee,  especially  when  she  bids  thee 
to  observe  the  directions  of  thy  j^ublic  instructors. 
The  second  step  to  wisdom  is,  next  to  God,  to  bear 
great  reverence  to  parents,  both  natural  and  spirit- 
ual ;  to  God's  ministers,  to  whom  if  children  be  not 
bred  to  give  a  great  regard,  they  seldom  prove  vir- 
tuous. It  is  very  observable  how  much  human 
laws  differ  from  the  divine ;  the  former  only  pro- 
adding  that  due  regard  be  given  by  children  to 
their  fathers,  but  taking  no  notice  of  their  mothers, 
....  but  God,  in  his  laws,  takes  care  to  pre- 
serve a  just  reverence  both  to  father  and  mother 
equally." 

The  laws  of  thy  mother  are  her  admonitions  and 
pious  instructions ;  and  these  are  not  to  be  disre- 


JOHN    MACLEAN,     D.D.  99 

gcarded,  even  when  tlie  infirmity  of  age  is  added  to 
that  of  sex.  Hearken  unto  thy  father,  and  despise 
not  thy  mother  when  she  is  okl,  or  because  she  is 
okl.  Cherish  a  reverence  for  her  authority,  and 
never  be  unmindful  of  her  lessons.  At  no  period 
of  their  lives  are  young  persons  so  tempted  to  dis- 
regard parental  authority,  as  when  they  are  passing 
from  boyhood  to  manhood.  At  this  time  of  life, 
they  are  often  more  disposed  to  think  and  act  for 
themselves,  without  regard  to  the  opinions  and 
wishes  of  their  parents,  than  even  in  later  life. 
They  are  desirous  to  be  thought  independent,  and 
capable  of  directing  themselves.  They  become  im- 
patient of  restraint,  and  the  advice  even  of  parents 
whom  they  both  reverence  and  love  is  often  irk- 
some ;  and  is  regarded  as  the  offspring  of  an  unrea- 
sonable anxiety,  or,  of  an  unfounded  distrust  of 
their  capacity  to  take  care  of  themselves :  and  the 
greater  the  earnestness  of  parents  in  urging  their 
\news,  the  greater  often  is  the  resistance  on  the  part 
of  those  for  whose  benefit  all  this  earnestness  is  em- 
ployed. They  deem  it  manly  to  disregard  advice, 
and  to  act  without  it,  when,  if  they  would  only 
reflect  as  they  ought,  they  would  perceive,  that  it  is 
the  lack  of  a  manly  spirit  that  leads  them  to  pur- 
sue the  course  they  do.  It  is  because  they  have 
not  attained  to  the  stature  of  full  grown  men,  that 
they  are  so  sensitive  as  to  every  thing  that  seems 
to  call  their  manhood  into  question.  None  are  so 
jealous  of  theii*  claims,  as  those  whose  claims  are 
most  questionable.  Show  then  your  claim  to  be 
considered  youths  of  a  truly  noble  and  independ- 


100  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

ent  spirit,  by  always  daring  to  do  what  is  riglit, 
and  by  always  yielding  due  obedience  to  parental 
commands.  I  say  due  obedience,  for  this  obedience 
so  obligatory  is  yet  subordinate  to  that  which  you 
owe  to  God,  and  should  it  unhappily  be  the  case, 
that  the  instructions  and  commands  of  your  j^arents 
are  in  conflict  with  those  of  your  Heavenly  Father, 
He  who  is  the  Parent  of  us  all  has  the  first  and 
highest  claim  to  your  obedience ;  yet  in  obeying 
God,  in  the  circumstances  supposed,  you  should  at 
the  same  time  show,  that  nothing  short  of  the 
strongest  conviction  of  duty  would,  ever,  have  in- 
duced you  to  act  contrary  to  parental  instructions. 
And  you  should  be,  in  all  other  things,  most  care- 
ful to  consult  their  feelings,  aud  give  them  all 
possible  evidence,  that  it  is  from  no  want  of  due 
respect  for  their  counsels  or  authority,  that,  con- 
trary to  their  desires,  you  have  yielded  to  what 
you  deem  higher  and  more  imperative  obligations  ; 
and  that  it  is  really  your  delight  to  submit  to  their 
authority  and  to  meet  their  wishes  to  the  utmost  of 
your  power.  Yes,  my  young  friends,  never  be  will- 
ing to  give  your  parents  one  moment's  pain,  or  even 
to  occasion  them  one  moment's  anxiety,  that  you 
can  at  all  prevent.  Of  these  they  have  abundant , 
and  that  too  on  your  account.  Add  not  to  their 
burdens,  much  less  to  their  sorrows. 
.  You  may  sometimes  think,  that  they  are  unduly 
anxious  resj)ecting  you ;  and  they  give  both  them- 
selves and  you  unnecessary  trouble,  in  warning  and 
counselling  you,  in  telling  you  of  their  fears  and 
of  your  dangers.     Grant,  my  young  friends,  that  a 


JOHN     MACLEAN,     D.D.  101 

motlier's  weakness  does  sometimes  betray  itself  in 
this  way ;  but  surely  it  is  not  a  weakness  to  be  de- 
spised.    Its  very  source  is  tliat  mother's  attachment 
to  the  son  of  her  love.     She  has  seen  the  sons  of 
other  mothers,  as  affectionate  and  tender  as  herself, 
decline,  step  by  step,  from  the  paths  of  piety  and 
vii'tue,  until  they  have  become  profligates  and  out- 
casts; and  the  very  thought  that  her  son  might 
possibly  become  like  one  of  them,  prompts  her  to 
those  expressions  of  her  fears,  that  sometimes  prove 
so  annoying  to  self-confident  youths.     Despise  not 
then  a  mother's  fears,  however  unfounded  they  may 
be.     Be  it  your  aim  to  remove  them,  not  by  main- 
taining that  there  is  no  ground  for  them,  but  by 
reverently  receiving  her  admonitions,  and  conform- 
ing yourself  to  them.     However  much  more  culti- 
vated your  mind  may  be  than  hers,  or  however 
greater  familiarity  you  may  have  with  learning  de- 
rived from  the  study  of  books,  rest  assured,  that  in 
all  that  appertains  to  the  cultivation  of  the  moral 
feelings  and  the  formation  of  habits,  the  delicacy 
and  refinement  of  a  virtuous  mother  are  of  far  greater 
moment  to  you,  than  all  that  you  have  ever  been 
able  to  acquire  from  books  or  from  intercourse  with 
your  equals  in  years  ;  and  in  subjects  of  this  kind 
your  own  observation  and  experience  are  not  to 
be  compared  with  hers. 

Several  instances  of  the  happy  results  of  giving 
due  heed  to  the  counsels  and  instruction  of  pious 
mothers  are  given  in  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Wit- 
ness what  the  Apostle  Paul  says  of  Timothy,  and 
his  mother  Eunice. 


102      THE  PEINCETON  PULPIT. 

If  Solomon  "be  tlie  author  of  tlie  last  chapter  of 
Proverbs,  and  in  it  speaks  of  himself  under  the 
name  of  Lemuel,  his  history  furnishes  abundant 
evidence,  that  even  he  would  have  been  a  wiser 
man,  and  a  better  ruler  than  he  was,  had  he  fol- 
lowed the  instructions  given  him  by  his  mother,  a 
record  of  which  is  made  in  the  chapter  named. 
But  the  highest  of  patterns  in  filial  piety  is  that  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  of  whom  it  was  said,  that 
he  was  subject  unto  his  parents — that  is  to  say,  to 
his  mother  and  to  his  reputed  father — and  that  he 
increased  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour  with 
God  and  man.  Kemember,  too,  the  command,  the 
first,  as  the  Apostle  says,  with  promise — "  Honour 
thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days  may  be 
long  upon  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth 
thee."  Search  all  history,  inquire  of  the  hoary  head^ 
whether  an  instance  can  be  found  of  a  youth  distin- 
guished for  fihal  piety,  who  ever  became  a  profli- 
gate in  manhood.  If  I  mistake  not,  you  will  seek 
in  vain. 

II.  My  second  counsel  is,  seek  with  all  earnest- 
ness after  truth. 

"  Buy  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not,"  is  a  direction 
forming  a  part  of  our  context. 

The  language,  you  perceive,  is  figurative,  and  is 
borrowed  from  the  conduct  of  merchants,  who,  to 
obtain  their  ends,  often  make  long  and  dangerous 
journeys,  and  that  too  without  any  certainty  of 
success,  encouraged  only  by  the  hope  of  acquiring 
wealth,  and  by  the  success  usually  attendant  upon 
skill,  enterprise  and  perseverance.     If  successful  in 


JOHjr     MACLEAN,     D.D.  103 

getting  wealth,  tliey  are  by  no  means  certain  of 
deriving  from  its  possession  the  joy  and  pleasure 
they  anticipated.  Not  so  with  the  purchase  of  the 
truth.  Its  acquisition  ensures  the  highest  enjoy, 
ment ;  and  the  bare  hope  of  securing  it  might  well 
call  forth  all  the  energies  of  your  soul  into  the 
most  vigorous  exercise.  What  knowledge  so  im- 
portant as  saving  knowledge — the  true  knowledge 
of  God  ?  AVhat  truth  is  to  be  so  highly  prized,  or 
so  eagerly  sought  for,  as  the  truth  that  sanctifies, 
that  fits  the  soul  for  communion  with  its  God  ?  and 
the  possession  of  which  is  an  earnest  or  sure  pledge 
of  eternal  life  ? 

To  how  many  a  father,  to  how  many  a  mother 
would  it  be  as  life  from  the  dead,  could  they  be 
assured  that  you,  my  young  friends,  were  all  ear- 
nestly seeking  the  pearl  of  great  price,  ready  and 
desirous  to  purchase  it  at  any  cost — at  any  sacrifice  ? 

But  while  the  truth  of  which  we  speak  is  the 
truth  of  truths,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  to  be  more 
highly  prized  than  that  of  all  other  truths,  yet,  in 
urging  you  to  seek  it  with  all  earnestness,  I  would 
not  have  you  indifferent  to  the  truths  of  physical, 
ethical,  or  political  science — a  knowledge  of  which  is 
intimately  connected  with  your  influence  and  useful- 
ness among  your  fellow  men  ;  nor  do  I  understand 
the  sacred  writer,  on  whose  language  I  am  comment- 
ing, as  intending  to  limit  the  application  of  his  words 
to  saving  truths,  as  I  shall  show  more  fully  when  I 
come  to  speak  of  the  words  that  immediately  follow 
the  direction  to  "  buy  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not." 

There  is  another  view  of  truth  to  which  I  would 


104      THE  PRIKCETON  PULPIT. 

call  your  attention,  tliat  is,  to  truth  as  oj^posed  to 
falsehood,  dissimulation  and  hypocrisy.  With  the 
use  of  the  term  triitli  in  this  sense  you  are  all  fami- 
liar, and  of  this  use  of  it  we  have  an  instance,  where 
St.  Paul  says,  "I  speak  the  truth  in  Christ,  I  lie 
not ;"  and  another  in  Hebrews  x.  22 :  "  Let  us  draw 
near  with  a  true  heart ;"  that  is,  "  with  uprightness, 
integrity,  and  sincerity  of  heart."  "  Wherefore,  put- 
ting away  lying,  speak  every  man  truth  with  his 
neighbour." — Eph.  iv.  25.  No  character  is  more 
despised  among  men  than  that  of  the  liar,  and 
none  is  more  truly  contemptible  ;  and  in  the  Sacred 
Scriptures  liars  are  classed  with  the  vilest  of  our 
race,  and  are  threatened  with  eternal  death,  as  in 
Revelations  xxi.  8 :  "  All  liars  shall  have  their  part 
in  the  lake  that  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone, 
which  is  the  second  death."  The  judgment  of  God 
and  judgment  of  man  agree  in  regard  to  the  hate- 
fulness  of  lying.  Let  it,  in  every  form  of  it,  be  far 
from  you,  my  hearers.  Let  it  be  your  aim  to  say 
with  the  Psalmist,  "  I  hate  and  abhor  lying,  but  thy 
law  do  I  love." — Ps.  cxix.  163. 

The  commands  of  God,  the  social  interests  of 
men,  yea,  the  very  existence  of  civil  society  call  for 
an  unwavering  adherence  to  truth.  Never,  then, 
violate  the  truth.  Establish  a  character  for  vera- 
city. Let  no  dread  of  consequences  induce  you  to 
err  from  the  truth.  Submit  to  any  inconvenience, 
rather  than  degrade  yourself  by  lying,  equivocating, 
or  by  mental  reservations  ;  those  mean  subterfuges 
of  the  cowardly  and  wicked.  If  ever  tempted  to 
prevaricate,  call  to  mind  the  declarations  of  Sacred 


JOHN     M  A  C  L  E  A  X  ,     D  .  D  .  105 

Writ:  "The  lip  of  truth  shall  be  established  for 
ever ;  but  a  lying  tongue  is  but  for  a  moment." — • 
Prov.  xii.  19.  "Lying  lips  are  an  abomination  to 
the  Lord ;  but  they  that  deal  truly  are  his  delight." 
— Prov.  xii.  22.  And  should  you  unhappily  be 
betrayed  into  doing  that  which,  if  known,  would 
subject  you  to  the  censure  of  others,  never  add  to 
your  unhaj^piness  and  guilt  l)y  a  resort  to  lying,  in 
order  to  conceal  your  conduct. 

Many  indeed  are  the  expedients  devised  to  quiet 
conscience,  and  to  justify  a  departure  from  the  direct 
line  of  truth ;  but,  at  best,  they  are  mere  expedients, 
doing  no  credit  to  the  hearts  or  heads  of  those  who 
use  them.  The  only  honourable  course  is  candidly  to 
confess  your  error,  and  to  express  your  regret.  Let 
it  once  be  known  that  nothing  can  induce  you  ever 
to  utter  a  falsehood,  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  will 
give  you  a  character  and  a  standing  which  will  go 
far  to  cast  into  the  shade  any  indiscretions  with 
which  you  may  be  chargeable.  Adherence  to  truth  is 
not,  indeed,  the  only  virtue  in  the  world,  but  w^here 
it  exists,  it  is  not  apt  to  be  alone ;  and  wherever  it 
exists,  it  commands  for  its  possessor  the  resj^ect  and 
confidence  of  all  who  know  him. 

Allied  to  this  there  is  another  view  of  truth,  whicli 
in  tliis  connexion  merits  our  attention:  that  is,  of 
truth  in  the  sense  of  fidelity,  sincerity,  and  punc- 
tuality in  keeping  promises,  and  in  this  sense  it  is 
used  in  the  100th  Psalm:  "For  the  Lord  is  good, 
His  mercy  is  everlasting,  and  His  truth  endureth  to 
all  generations."  As  God  is  true  to  his  engagements, 
so  he  would  have  us  true  to  ours.  Never  make  a 
8 


106  THE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

promise,  nor  pledge  your  word,  unless  you  mean  to 
do  as  you  promise.  To  promise  and  to  have  no  in- 
tention to  keep  it,  is  the  lieight  of  hypocrisy ;  and 
no  matter  what  excuses  the  individual  who  thus 
acts  may  offer  for  his  conduct,  it  is  base,  and  cannot 
but  degrade  him  in  his  own  eyes  as  well  as  in  the 
eyes  of  others.  Far  from  you  be  conduct  like  this. 
By  a  faithful  compliance  with  all  your  engagements, 
gain  for  yourselves  the  reputation  of  being  men 
true  to  your  word.  Such  a  character  is  above  all 
price,  and  the  youth  that  possesses  it  cannot  fail  to 
be  the  joy  of  his  parents. 

III.  Seek,  also,  after  "  wisdom,  instruction,  and 
understanding."  This  too  is  the  advice  of  Solomon, 
who,  upon  giving  it,  adds,  "  the  father  of  the  right- 
eous shall  greatly  rej  oice,  and  he  that  begetteth  a  wise 
child  shall  have  joy  of  him."  And  here  let  me  cite 
from  the  wise  man  another  saying  on  this  subject: 
"  A  wise  son  heareth  his  father''s  instruction." — Pro  v. 
xiii.  1.  Before  urging  further  a  compliance  with 
this  advice,  let  us  inquire  into  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  wisdom,  instruction,  and  understanding,  as 
here  used.  They  are  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the 
Sacred  Writings,  and  there  is  therefore  no  diffi- 
culty in  determining  their  general  import ;  although 
there  may  be  some  in  discriminating  nicely  between 
them.  They  are  often  so  blended  together,  that 
they  seem  at  least  to  partake  of  each  other's  mean- 
.  ing,  and  this  makes  it  easier  to  sj^eak  of  their  joint 
than  of  their  several  im23orts.  Without  dwelling 
at  length  on  the  subject,  I  shall  endeavour  to  do 
both. 


J  O  II  X     MACLEAN",     D  .  D  .  107 

In  the  Scri23tures,  the  term  "  wisdom"  is  used  in 
various  senses,  all,  however,  cognate,  and  naturally 
arising  from  each  other.  Sometimes  it  is  used  in 
its  common  acceptation  among  men,  as  denoting 
the  power  of  judging  rightly — as  in  1st  Kings  ii.  9 
— distinguished  from  mere  knowledge,  as  supposing 
action,  and  action  directed  by  it ;  or,  as  expressed 
by  another—"  Wisdom  is  taken  for  that  prudence 
and  discretion  which  enables  men  to  perceive  what 
is  fit  to  be  done,  according  to  the  circumstances  of 
time,  place,  persons,  manners  and  end  of  doing. — 
Eccles.  ii.  13,  14.  Knowledge  directs  a  man  what 
is  to  be  done,  and  what  is  not  to  he  done  ;  wisdom 
directs  him  Jiotv  to  do  things  duly,  conveniently, 
and  fitly." — Cruden.  Again,  wisdom  is  taken  for 
"experience,"  as  in  Job  xdi.  12 — "With  the  ancient 
is  wisdom."  And  in  Acts  vii.  22,  for  "  various  learn- 
ing," where  it  is  said  of  Moses,  he  was  learned  in 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyj)tians — that  is,  as  one 
explains  it,  "  He  was  instructed  in  the  knoAvledge 
of  those  arts  and  sciences,  for  which,  in  those  times, 
the  Egyptians  were  famous."  Again,  wisdom  is 
taken  for  "  true  piety,  or  the  fear  of  God."  "  The 
fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom."  "  So  teach  us  to 
number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts 
unto  vji-s-dom^^ — ^the  study  and  practice  of  piety. 
There  are  other  and  important  senses  in  which  the 
term  wisdom  is  used  in  Scripture,  yet  those  men- 
tioned are  the  only  ones  to  which  reference  can  be 
had  by  Solomon,  when  he  says,  "  Buy  aUo  wisdom." 
And  they  include,  as  you  perceive,  both  human 
wisdom  to  conduct  our  affairs  in  this  life,  and  di\dne 


108  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

wisdom,  to  make  men  wise  to  know  their  duty,  and 
to  save  their  souls. 

The  word  rendered  "  instruction"  signifies  good 
and  wholesome  admonitions  and  rebukes  given  to 
us,  in  order  that  we  may  attain  unto  wisdom ;  like- 
wise chastisement ;  and  it  is  also  used  to  denote 
that  which  is  set  forth  as  an  example  for  the  warn- 
ing of  others.  In  the  passage  under  consideration, 
it  denotes,  I  apprehend,  chiefly  divine  admonition 
and  reproof. 

The  word  translated  "  understanding"  means  the 
power  or  ability  to  discern  between  truth  and  error, 
between  good  and  evil,  and  the  choosing  of  the  for- 
mer and  the  rejecting  of  the  latter.  The  primitive 
meaning  of  the  word  from  which  it  is  derived  is  to 
separate,  or  put  apart — hence  the  significations,  to 
distinguish,  to  understand,  or  to  know  fully  and 
distinctly. 

But  it  is  probable  that  the  several  terms,  wisdom, 
instruction  and  understanding,  were  employed,  not 
so  much  for  the  purpose  of  exact  discrimination, 
as  to  indicate  the  earnestness  with  which  they  should 
be  sought.  "  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom.  A  good  understanding  have  all  they 
that  do  his  commandments."  "  Fear  God,  and  keep 
his  commandments,  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of 
man."  From  a  com2:>arison  of  these  passages,  it  is 
evident,  that  when  Solomon  bids  us  buy  "  wisdom, 
instruction,  and  understanding,"  and,  especially,  as- 
he  at  the  same  time,  bids  us  buy  the  truth,  he  had  in 
view  that  piety  and  knowledge  which  fit  us  for  the 
service  of  God,  and  that  wisdom  which  makes  us 


JOHN    MACLEAJf,     D.D.  109 

Aviso  unto  salvation.  And  yet  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  lie  did  not  intend  to  exclude  tlie 
knowledge  of  buman  arts  and  learning,  as  will  ap- 
pear, I  tbink,  from  an  examination  of  1st  Kings  iv. 
29-33 — "  And  God  gave  Solomon  wisdom  and  un- 
derstanding, exceeding  mucb,  and  largeness  of  heart, 
even  as  the  sand  on  the  sea  shore.  And  Solomon's 
wisdom  excelled  the  wisdom  of  the  children  of  the 
East,  and  all  the  wisdom  of  Egypt.  For  he  was  wiser 
than  all  men,  than  Ethan  the  Ezrahite,  and  Heman, 
and  Chalcol  and  Darda,  the  sons  of  Maliol ;  and 
bis  fame  was  in  all  the  nations  round  about.  And 
he  spake  three  thousand  proverbs,  and  bis  songs 
were  a  thousand  and  five.  And  he  spake  of  trees, 
from  the  cedar  in  Lebanon  even  unto  the  hyssop 
that  springeth  out  of  the  wall ;  he  S2:>ake  also  of 
beasts,  and  of  fowl,  and  of  creeping  things,  and 
fishes."  He  was  not  only  a  great  prince,  but  also 
a  j)hilosopher  and  a  poet.  These,  ol^serve,  are  all 
mentioned  as  evidences  of  the  great  wisdom  and  un- 
derstanding: and  laro'eness  of  heart  that  God  o-ave  to 
Solomon  ;  and  we  may  therefore  well  suppose,  that 
when  he  extols  wisdom,  and  bids  us  seek  it,  and  also 
understanding,  he  meant  to  emj^loy  these  terms  in 
their  largest  meanings,  and  as  comprehending  all  va- 
rieties of  useful  knowledge,  whether  pertaining  to 
religion  or  to  the  ordinary  aftairs  of  life.  They  are 
approved  of  God,  they  are  held  in  honour  among 
men.  "  The  wise  shall  inherit  glory." — Prov.  iii.  35. 
"A  wise  son  maketh  a  glad  father,  but  a  foolish 
son  is  the  heaviness  of  his  mother." — Prov.  x.  1. 
"  My  son,  if  thy  heart  be  wise,  my  heart  shaU  re- 


110  THE     PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

joice,  even  mine." — Prov.  xxiii.  15.     Do  not  these 
words  express  tlie  sentiments  of  every  father  ? 

Be  it  your  aim,  my  youthful  hearers,  to  make  all 
possible  advances  in  both  human  and  divine  know- 
ledge, but  especially  in  the  latter.  Treasure  up 
also,  as  far  as  you  can,  the  lessons  of  true  wisdom, 
alike  on  secular  as  on  religious  subjects,  and  seek  to 
be  men  of  understanding.  Do  you  inquire  how  all 
this  is  to  be  done  ?  I  answer  it  is  to  be  done  by  mak- 
ing a  proper  use  of  your  present  time  and  present 
privileges.  For  the  study  of  God's  Word,  a  knowl- 
edge of  which  is  able,  through  faith  in  its  teach- 
ings, to  make  you  wise  unto  salvation,  you  have 
every  facility ;  and  would  that  the  disposition  to 
become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  its  precepts 
and  its  truths  was  equal  to  the  ready  access  you 
can  at  all  times  have  to  its  sacred  pages. 

The  rich  mines  too  of  human  science  and  learn- 
ing are,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  thrown  open  for 
your  admission ;  and,  just  so  far  as  you  choose,  you 
are  at  liberty  to  avail  yourselves  of  the  treasures 
they  contain.  You  are  also  provided  with  guides, 
whose  duty  and,  I  may  add,  whose  pleasure  it  is, 
to  attend  you  in  your  search  of  the  hidden  stores  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge.  And  there  is  nothing  that 
ought  to  draAv  you  away  from  your  professed  em- 
ployments and  appropriate  work.  Do  not,  for  a 
moment,  suppose  that  you  can  ever  become  wise  or 
learned  without  effort  on  your  own  part.  God 
gave  wisdom  to  Solomon  just  in  the  same  way  that 
he  gives  it  to  other  men.  He  gave  him  the  dispo- 
sition to  apply  himself  earnestly  to  the  cultivation 


JOHN    MACLEAN,     D  .  D  .  Ill 

of  those  powers  of  mind  wliicli  lie  had  previously 
bestowed  upon  Solomon,  and  by  affording  him  op- 
portunities for  the  full  development  of  those  powers. 
The  very  account  which  is  given  of  Solomon  is  proof 
positive  of  his  untiring  industry. 

On  this  branch  of  our  subject  I  shall  make  but 
one  remark  more,  and  it  is  this  :  that  the  study  and 
practice  of  true  piety  is  no  hindrance  to  the  vigor- 
ous prosecution  of  our  secular  j)ursuits ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  is  favourable  to  our  success  in  all  our  law- 
ful undertakinsfs.  No  mind  can  be  in  so  favourable 
a  state  for  attention  to  the  ordinary  studies  or  busi- 
ness of  life  as  when  it  is  conscious  of  being  at  peace 
with  God,  and  of  doing  all  things  from  a  desire  to 
serve  and  please  Him. 

"  Happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom,  and  the 
man  that  getteth  understanding :  For  the  merchan- 
dize of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandize  of  silver, 
and  the  gain  thereof  than  fine  gold.  She  is  more 
precious  than  rubies ;  and  all  the  things  thou  canst 
desire  are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her.  Length  of 
days  is  in  her  right  hand ;  and  in  her  left  hand 
riches  and  honour.  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  her  paths  are  peace.  She  is  a  tree  of 
life  to  them  that  lay  hold  upon  her ;  and  ha23py  is 
every  one  that  retaineth  her." — Pro  v.  iii.  13-18. 

IV.  Let  me  once  more  counsel  you  to  seek  the 
company  of  the  wise  and  good,  and  to  exercise  the 
utmost  care  in  selecting,  as  jowr  intimate  associates, 
those  who  are  distinguished  for  sobriety  of  conduct, 
and  for  their  reverence  for  divine  things.  "  He  that 
walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise  ;  but  a  com- 


112  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

panlon  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed." — Pro  v.  xiii.  20. 
I   need   scarcely   say,   tliat   your    associations,   of 
wliatever  kind  they  be,  cannot  fail  to  exert  an  in- 
fluence over  you ;  and  should  they  unhap^^ily  be 
evil  associations,  they  cannot  prove  else  than  mis- 
chievous.    If  your  chosen  and  constant  companions 
be   rude  and  vulgar,  you  will  become  rude   and 
vulgar ;  if  profane,  you  will  become  profane  ;  if 
intemperate  and  licentious,  you  will  be  like  them. 
What  reason  can  any  one  have  to  hope  for  a  differ- 
ent result  ?     Whatever  other  qualities  of  an  attract- 
ive character  they  may  possess,  and  which  incline 
you  to  seek  their  company,  if  not  their  friendshij^ ; 
these  others   are   not   the    only   ones  which   will 
have    an   influence  upon  you.      Familiarity   with 
wicked  sentiments  and  evil  practices  wdll  soon  re- 
move  your  own  repugnance  to  these  sentiments 
and  these  practices ;  and  the  way  will  be  moi-e  or 
less  rapidly  prepared  for  your  becoming  like  your 
friends  in  feeling  and  in  deportment.     On  the  con- 
trary, if  your  companions  be  the  wise  and  good,  you 
cannot  but  receive  advantage  from  the  connection. 
You  will  imbibe  their  sentiments,  and  copy  their 
example,  possibly  without  being  conscious  of  doing 
so.     If,  then,  you  have  any  desire  to  gladden  the 
heart  of  your  father,  or  to  be  the  joy  of  your  mo- 
ther, you  must   avoid  all  corrupt   associates,  and 
cleave  only  to  the  virtuous  and  the  good.     Here, 
again,  let  me  cite  the  words  of  Solomon :   "  Enter 
not  into  the  path  of  the  wicked,  and  go  not  in  the 
way  of  evil  men.     Avoid  it,  j^ass  not  by  it,  turn 
from  it,  and  pass  away.     The  path  of  the  just  is  as 


JOHN  ]maclea:n^,   d.d.  113 

tlie  sLiuin^:  li^'lit,  that  sliinetli  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day.  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as 
darkness.  They  know  not  at  what  they  stumble." 
V.  Allied  to  the  choice  of  companions  is  the 
choice  of  books.  If  they  be  good,  they  will  tend 
to  make  you  wise  and  virtuous  ;  if  bad,  they  will 
corrupt  your  minds,  and  prepare  tlie  way  for  sinful 
and  ruinous  courses.  Remember  that  such  is  the 
constitution  of  our  minds,  that  every  thing  we  read 
makes  an  impression  upon  them.  It  may  at  first, 
and  even  for  a  long  time,  be  as  imperceptible 
to  the  eye  of  the  ordinary  observer  as  the  impres- 
sion made  upon  rocks  or  stones  by  drops  of  falling 
water ;  yet,  in  the  course  of  time,  it  will  become 
equally  apparent  and  equally  lasting. 

As  is  your  reading  so  are  you.  The  youth  de- 
voted to  the  study  of  science  will  become  a  scien- 
tific man  ;  the  student  of  works  of  taste  will  become 
a  man  of  taste ;  the  devourer  of  works  of  imagina- 
tion will  partake  of  the  character  of  his  reading ;  if 
these  be  works  of  a  corrupt  imagination,  they  Avill 
corrupt  you.  The  diligent  student  of  God's  word 
will  become  wise  unto  salvation ;  and  let  it  be  your 
firm  resolve  to  give  that  direction  to  all  your  read- 
,  ing  and  all  your  studies,  and  that  alone,  which  will 
tend  to  make  you  wise  and  good.  Remember  the 
character  of  the  blessed  man,  as  set  forth  in  the  1st 
Psalm :  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in 
the  counsel  of  the  ungodly ;  that  standeth  not  in  the 
way  of  sinners  ;  that  sitteth  not  in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful ;  but  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord, 
and  in  His  law  doth  he  meditate  day  and  night." 


114  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

Constant  meditation  on  the  precepts  of  God's  word 
is  the  source  of  this  blessedness,  and  saves  him  from 
the  path  and  the  fate  of  the  wicked. 

VI.  Finally,  cherish  virtuous  sentiments  and  vir- 
tuous habits.  This  accords  with  the  whole  tenor  of 
Solomon's  counsel  to  the  young  ;  and  if  you  follow 
this  counsel,  your  father,  like  the  Father  of  the 
righteous,  shall  greatly  rejoice.  The  adoption  and 
the  cherishing  of  virtuous  sentiments  is  essential  to 
the  practice  of  virtue.  A  corrupt  tree  cannot  bring 
forth  good  fruit.  That  your  sentiments  may  be 
virtuous,  you  must  give  yourselves  to  the  study  of 
virtue.  Remember  the  words  of  St.  Paul  in  his 
epistle  to  the  Philippians,  and  in  this  matter  make 
them  the  rule  of  your  conduct : 

"Finally,  brethren,  whatsoever  things  are  true, 
whatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatsoever  things  are 
just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things 
are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report ;  if 
there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise, 
think  on  these  things." 

Yes,  my  young  friends,  think  on  these  things ; 
continued  meditation  upon  them  will  fill  your  minds 
with  useful  maxims  for  the  regulation  of  your  con- 
duct, and  will  thus  most  powerfully  influence  that 
conduct.  It  will  tend  to  make  you  true  and  honest, 
just  and  pure  and  lovely,  a  diligent  student  and  a 
useful  man.  It  will  save  you  from  the  snares  of  the 
wicked,  and  from  the  destruction  that  awaits  the 
devotees  of  pleasure,  the  victims  of  appetite  and  of 
lust,  against  which,  in  the  strongest  terms,  Solomon 


JOHN     IMACLEAN,     D.D.  115 

warns  liis  son  ;  and  the  careful  study  of  his  counsel 
on  this  head,  I  most  earnestly  commend  to  you. 

To  these  counsels  I  might  add  much,  but  our 
time  does  not  permit ;  and  if  you  are  disposed  to 
pursue  a  course  of  conduct  that  will  gladden  the 
hearts  of  your  parents,  sufficient  has  been  said,  I 
hope,  to  confirm  that  disposition.  And  if  you  are 
not  thus  dis23osed,  I  should  have  but  a  faint  hope  of 
ever  enlisting  your  feelings  in  this  subject,  however 
much  I  might  enlarge  upon  it. 

Can  a  father  or  mother  fail  to  rejoice,  at  seeing 
a  beloved  son  manifesting  the  greatest  deference 
for  their  authority  and  counsels ;  seeing  him  earn- 
estly engaged  in  seeking  after  truth,  wisdom,  in- 
struction and  understanding,  and  that  in  the  highest 
and  most  important  meanings  of  these  terms ;  seeing 
him,  too,  the  companion  of  the  wise  and  good,  avoid- 
ing all  evil  courses  and  wicked  men,  and  embracing 
sound  and  virtuous  sentiments,  and  ever  acting  in 
accordance  with  them  ? 

It  does  not  require  then  to  have  minds  equally  cul- 
tivated with  your  own  to  be  partakers  of  the  joy,  of 
which  so  often  I  have  had  occasion  to  speak.  I  well 
remember  an  occurrence  at  one  of  our  annual  com- 
mencements, about  thirty  years  ago,  which  con- 
firms the  remark  just  made.  The  son  of  a  plain 
and  unlettered  man,  one  of  the  youngest  members 
of  his  class,  and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  first 
scholars  of  that  class,  who,  not  many  years  after 
leaving  College,  descended  to  an  honoured  grave, 
was  pronouncing  the  oration  assigned  to  liim  as  his 
part  in  the  exercises  of  that  day,  and  such  was  the 


116  THE    PEIJSTCETON    PULPIT. 

impression  that  his  speech  and  his  sj)eaking  made 
upon  the  minds  of  some  of  his  auditors,  that  they 
were  instinctively  jirompted  to  inquire,  "  Who  is 
that  youth  ?"  "  He  is  my  sou,"  said  the  delighted 
father,  who  happened  to  be  near ;  and  this  he  said 
much  to  the  surprise  and  delight  of  those  that  stood 
by,  and  listened  to  this  unexpected  burst  of  a  father's 

joy- 

What  a  glorious  sight  would  it  be  to  see  a  whole 
college  of  such  youths ! 


SORROW    IS    BETTER     THAN    LAUGHTER. 


THE  REV.    JAMES    W.    ALEXANDER,  D.  D. 

FORMERLY    BELLES  LETTRES    PROFESSOR   IN    THE   COLLEGE    OP  NEW   JERSEY,    SUBSEQtlENTLTf 
PROFESSOR  OF  CUtfRCU  UISTORY  IN  THE  TnEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY. 


•'  Sorrow  is  better  than  laughter :  for  by  the  sadness  of  the  countenance  the 
heart  is  made  better.  The  heart  of  the  wise  is  in  the  house  of  mourning; 
but  the  heart  of  fools  is  in  the  house  of  nnirth.  It  is  better  to  hear  the  re- 
buke of  the  wise,  than  for  a  man  to  hear  the  song  of  fools.  For  as  the  crackling 
of  thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is  the  laughter  of  the  fool.  This  also  is  vanity. 
Ecc.  vii.  3-6. 

The  ripe  experience  of  Solomon,  wliom  we  still 
believe-  to  be  the  Preaclier  in  this  book,  was  ob- 
tained among  circumstances  as  favorable  for  a  com- 
plete judgment,  as  any  man  ever  had,  and  resulted  in 
a  melancholy  determination.  At  each  stage  of  pro- 
gress he  seems  to  pause,  and  looking  back  to  say — • 
"  this  also  is  vanity."  It  is  a  conclusion  to  which 
many  have  come,  and  there  are  moments  in  life 
when  we  are  all  disposed  to  sit  down  in  despond- 
ency, as  if  the  world  had  proved  a  cheat,  and  as  if 
no  words  could  better  express  the  sum  of  our  ob- 
servations than  those  of  the  wisest  of  kings — • 
"  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity."  In  such  a  re- 
sult there  is  not  necessarily  any  religion.     A  Gen- 


118  THE      PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

tile,  an  infidel,  or  a  savage,  is  competent  to  feel  such 
grief,  and  to  utter  sucli  disap]3ointment.  Emptiness 
of  earthly  pleasure  may  be  used  by  sovereign  grace 
as  a  preparation  for  the  fulness  of  li'eavenly  good ; 
but  in  a  majority  of  cases,  ttie  conviction  tends 
eitlier  to  epicurean  indulgence,  "  let  us  eat  and 
drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die ;"  or  to  blank,  atlieistic 
despair,  in  wkicL.  the  misguided  wretcb  commits 
self-murder  l)y  strong  drink,  tke  pistol,  or  tke  cord. 
Hence  it  becomes  a  question,  second  to  none  in 
the  pliilosopliy  of  life,  kow  to  regulate  pleasure  and 
pain,  joy  and  grief,  so  as  to  avoid  the  extremes  of 
carnal  folly  on  one  band,  and  of  horrible  despondence 
on  the  other.  Under  this  general  head  it  is  impor- 
tant to  see  whether  real  good  may  not  be  extracted 
even  from  disappomtment,  loss,  and  pain ;  and 
whether  there  is  not  some  middle  ground  of  safety 
and  profit  between  the  lawless  exhilaration  of  the 
gay  world,  and  the  sullen  self-torment  of  misan- 
thropy. And  we  find  nothing  but  revelation  which 
furnishes  any  true  help  in  this  problem,  or  teaches 
us  how  to  use  our  sorrows  as  a  means  of  ultimate 
joy.  It  was  worthy  of  Solomon  to  leave  on  record 
the  solution  of  this  enigma ;  indeed  the  spirit  of 
Avisdom  which  he  had  sought  m  youth,  returned 
to  him  in  age,  when  he  had  run  his  uujiaralleled 
round  of  pleasure,  and,  if  tradition  errs  not,  made 
these  maxims  the  solace  of  his  graver  declining 
years,  and  through  him  a  treasury  of  wisdom  for 
succeeding  ages.  Difficult  as  some  parts  of  the 
book  of  Ecclesiastes  are,  there  is  nothing  clearer 
than  its  grand  termination  (xii.  1 3)  : — "  Let  us  hear 


J.     W  .     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  110 

tlie  concliisiou  of  tlie  whole  matter ;  Fear  God  and 
keep  liis  commandments  ;  for  this  is  the  whole  duty 
of  man" — the  summumhomim — the  end  of  creation 
and  existence. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  man  of  middle  life,  not 
brutahzed  by  sensual  delights,  or  insane  with  cupi- 
dity, who  does  not  sometimes  feel  himself  in  the 
darkness  expressed  in  the  latter  verses  of  the  pre- 
ceding chapter,  which  open  the  way  for  our  text. 
Everything  that  he  has  touched  has  turned  into 
disgusting  nothingness.  Many  things  have  been 
tried,  and  he  has  almost  swept  the  entire  curve  of 
human  pursuits  and  promises,  as  to  their  kinds ; 
but  by  none  of  them  has  he  found  his  inward  con- 
dition bettered.  In  his  circuit  throuijh  the  vast 
edifice  of  this  world,  from  flight  to  flight  and  gal- 
lery to  gallery,  he  has  locked  up  a  thousand  doors, 
and  sealed  them  with  the  inscription — There  is 
iiotliing  here  worth  entering  for.  He  has  seen 
friends  fall  dead  on  the  very  threshold  of  their 
hopes,  and  has  exclaimed  with  the  great  British 
politician,  when  a  rival  was  stricken  down  at  the 
very  hustings,  "  What  shadows  we  are,  and  what 
shadows  we  pursue  !"  Or,  if  a  scholar,  he  has  mut- 
tered to  himself  Pindar's  saying,  "Man  is  a 
shadow  !""  He  has  outlived  such  mutations,  as  to 
rob  him  of  all  security  about  the  family  or  the 
property  he  may  leave,  being  in  doubt  what  change 
in  government  or  laws  the  next  turn  of  the  popular 
wheel  may  bring  up  when  he  shall  be  in  his  vault ; 
but  no  words  can  better  convey  the  meaning  of  his 
heart,  in  such  dismal  twilight  hours,  tlum  those  of 


120  THE     PEINCETOlSr      PULPIT. 

the  ]3reaclier  (y\.  11.)  : — "  Seeing  tliere  be  many 
things  that  increase  vanity,  what  is  man  the  better  ? 
For  who  knoweth  what  is  good  for  man  in  this  life  ; 
all  the  number  of  the  days  of  the  life  of  his  vanity, 
which  he  spendeth  as  a  shadow?  For  who  can 
tell  a  man  what  shall  be  after  him  under  the  sun."* 

The  Stoics,  those  famous  philosophers  of  old  time, 
the  Pharisees  of  Greece  and  Rome,  undertook  to 
turn  nature  out  of  doors,  and  as  trouble  was  mani- 
festly unavoidable,  to  persuade  themselves  and 
others  that  pain  was  no  evil.  Could  they  have 
held  men  at  this  point,  it  had  been  something 
gained,  but  the  lesson  of  the  Porch  was  ignomin- 
iously  recanted  in  the  first  moment  of  keen  anguish. 
The  wiser  teaching  of  the  Hebrews  had  no  such 
absurdity.  It  admitted  that  pain  was  pain,  and  that 
evil  was  evil.  But  it  did  not  rush  to  the  opposite 
extreme,  like  Epicurus,  and  assert  that  pleasure  is 
the  chief  good,  and  that  we  must  make  the  most  of 
carnal  joys,  employing  virtue  only  to  enhance  and 
secure  the  exquisite  satisfactions  of  this  life.  From 
first  to  last  God's  inspired  system  takes  man  as  he 
is,  appeals  to  the  common  uncontradicted  experi- 
ence of  all  souls,  in  all  ages,  admits  the  ills  of  life, 
shows  their  origin,  and,  above  all,  indicates  the 
way  to  make  them  useful,  and  the  certain  means  of 
escaping  them  for  ever. 

Our  inspired  monitor  closes  the  eye  on  neither 
side.  He  looks  at  pleasure,  he  looks  at  pain,  and 
with  a  wise  discernment  of  eacli.  Both  doors 
are  open  to  him :  he  hears  the  noise  of  revelry,  and 

*  Margin. 


J .      W  .      ALEXANDER,     D  .  D  .  121 

the  lamentations  of  woe ;  and  the  Invaluable  re- 
cord which  he  makes  is,  that  Man  derives  more  good 
from  sorrow^  ivisely  considered^  than  from  the  ex- 
cesses of  pleasure — a  proposition  which  we  shall 
find  it  profitable  to  examine.  It  is  variously  ex- 
pressed. Sorrow  is  set  over  against  laughter ;  the 
house  of  mourning  over  against  the  house  of  mirth  ; 
the  rebuke  of  the  wise  over  against  the  music  of 
fools ;  the  day  of  death  over  against  the  day  of 
birth :  all  tending,  however,  to  this,  tliat  trouble, 
pain,  and  grief,  have  their  bright  side,  and  that 
giddy  indulgence  and  merriment  carry  a  sting.  In 
this  comparison  of  pain  and  pleasure,  the  result  is 
so  opposed  to  the  opinion  and  feelings  of  all  the 
world,  as  to  need  some  show  of  good  reasons,  which 
we  are  now  about  to  attempt.  With  God's  blessing 
it  may  be  a  relief  to  some  wounded  spirit. 

1.  Sorrow  is  hetter  than  laughter^  hecause  a  great 
part  of  worldly  merriment  is  no  better  than  folly. 
Here  we  take  no  extreme  or  ascetic  ground.  It 
would  be  morose,  and  sour,  and  unchristian,  to 
scowl  at  the  gambols  of  infancy,  or  to  hush  the 
laugh  of  youth,  on  fit  occasions.  Even  here,  how- 
ever, the  wise  guardian  will  sometimes  lay  his  gentle 
but  repressive  hand  on  the  buoyant  spirit,  and 
teach  juvenile  exuberance  that  it  may  go  the  length 
of  self-injury,  and  end  in  trouble.  Cheerfulness  is 
no  where  forbidden,  even  in  adult  life ;  and  we 
perhaps  offend  God  oftener  by  our  frowns  than  by 
our  smiles.  He  who  believes  that  his  soul  is  in  a 
safe  state,  and  who  receives  his  daily  mercies  with 
thankfulness  may  well  rejoice.  The  very  care  of 
9 


122  THE     PRI]^CETO]S^     PULPIT. 

liealtli  demands  tlie  relaxation  and  stimulus  of  rea- 
sonable mirtli.  Solomon  himself  lias  called  it  a 
medicine.  But  you  all  do  know  tliat  tliere  is  a 
merriment  wliicL.  admits  no  rule,  confines  itself  by 
no  limit,  shocks  every  maxim  even  of  sober  reason, 
absorbs  tlie  wliole  powers,  wastes  the  time,  and  de- 
bilitates the  intellect,  even  if  it  do  not  lead  to 
supreme  love  of  pleasure,  profligacy,  and  general 
intemperance  and  voluptuousness.  A  wise  heathen, 
or  a  sedate  North  American  Indian,  would  form  the 
same  judgment  of  our  city  amusements,  in  which 
thousands  are  expended,  and  in  which  the  reso- 
nance of  midnight  music,  the  questionable  heats  of 
flushed  performers,  and  the  unhealthy  lassitude  en- 
suing on  extreme  mirth  and  laborious  display, 
remind  reading  men  of  a  hundred  biting  observa- 
tions of  ancient  Gentile  satirists  on  the  assemblies 
of  their  day.  But  the  world  will  do  anything ; 
will  wear  any  dress  or  undress ;  will  make  any 
outlay ;  will  teach  its  children  any  posture-making 
or  grimace  ;  will  run  any  risk  of  destroying  souls, 
which  may  be  prescribed  by  those  who  lead  the 
mode.  And  this  they  call  pleasure ;  and  this  is 
aped  by  church-professors,  who  would  rather  die 
than  be  left  behind  in  the  race  of  expensive  and 
luxurious  fashion.  The  prattle,  the  "  foolish  jest- 
ing, which  is  not  convenient,"  the  song  and  outcry, 
inflamed  by  wine  and  rivalry,  and  the  "  chamber- 
ing and  wantonness  "  which,  lower  down  in  the 
scale,  come  of  these,  and  show  their  tendency,  are 
(1  say  not  in  the  eye  of  the  Christian  or  of  Christ, 


J.      ^V.      ALEXANDER,     D.D.  123 

but  iu  tlie  eve  of  common  reason)  too  trifliiia'  for 
an  immortal  mind. 

2.  fSorroiv  is  better  than  la ug]ite)\  because  mud i  of 
worldly  merriment  tends  to  no  intellectual  or  morcd 
good.  And  must  I  prove  to  you  tliat  intellectual 
and  moral  good  are  tlie  great  end  ?  Must  I  tell 
you  that  you  are  not  all  body,  all  brute  ? — tliat 
you  liave  something  within  which  is  not  animal  or 
sensual  ? — that  you  are  made  to  know  an  Incarnate 
God,  and  to  be  like  him  I  I  will  not  so  insult  my 
audience;  I  will  not  so  degrade  my  office  as  to 
press  the  proof.  AVordly  pleasures,  and  the  ex- 
pressions of  these,  do  nothing  for  the  immaterial 
part.  AVhen  you  have  put  the  best  face  on  them, 
they  leave  you  where  they  found  you.  But  ah ! 
this  is  far  too  favorable  a  construction.  The  oft- 
repeated  gaieties,  and  sports,  and  dissipations, 
which  are  included  under  the  terms  of  the  wdse 
man,  and  which  are  for  substance  the  same  in 
Jerusalem  and  Princeton,  leave  no  one  the  same. 
The  utmost  that  can  be  pretended  is  that  they 
amuse  and  recreate.  We  admit,  we  applaud  re- 
creation and  amusement,  but  within  the  bounds  of 
reason,  within  the  limits  of  religion,  by  m^eans  which 
are  above  doubt,  and  in  ways  which  offend  not  the 
church  or  the  world.  In  their  very  notion,  they 
are  exceptions,  and  should  be  sparing. 

But  there  are  a  thousand  recreative  processes 
connected  with  healthful  exercise,  with  knowledge, 
with  the  study  of  beautiful  nature,  with  the  practice 
and  contemplation  of  art,  and  with  the  fellowship 
of  friends,  which  unbend  the  tense  nerve  and  re- 


124  THE      PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

fresli  the  wasted  spirits,  while  at  the  same  time 
they  instruct  the  mind  and  soften  or  tranquillize 
the  heart.  Not  so  with  the  unbridled  joys  which 
find  vent  in  redoubled  peals  of  mirth  and  obstre- 
porous  carousal,  or  in  the  lighter  play  of  chattered 
nonsense  and  never-ending  giggle.  Make  such  in- 
tercourse the  business  of  life  (and  with  some,  if  you 
include  preparations  and  councils  for  the  party,  and 
subsequent  words  and  doings,  it  is  the  business  of 
whole  seasons),  and  you  degrade  the  understanding 
of  these  persons  to  such  a  degree,  that  you  err  if 
you  expect  ever  to  find  them  equal  to  a  discussion 
of  anything  more  tasking,  to  what  they  call  their 
mind,  than  the  last  spicy  news,  or  the  last  provo- 
cative novel,  or  the  last  libertine  dance.  But,  even 
among  the  intellects  thus  mollified  by  mirth  and 
pleasure,  there  is  scarcely  one  so  far  gone  as  to 
plead  that  these  gaieties  benefit  the  spiritual  part ; 
that  they  make  conscience  more  calm,  death  more 
easy,  or  eternal  life  more  sure.  The  "house  of 
feasting,"  the  "  house  of  mirth,"  whether  open  by 
day  or  night,  offers  no  advantage  to  the  soul,  and 

the  SOUL  IS  THE  MAN. 

3.  Sorrow  is  better  than  laugliter^  because  worldly 
mirth  is  short.  In  the  Eastern  countries,  where 
fuel  is  very  scarce,  every  combustible  shrub,  brush, 
and  bramble  is  seized  upon  for  culinary  fires.  Of 
these  the  blaze  is  bright,  hot,  and  soon  extinct. 
Such  is  worldly  mirth.  "  For  as  the  crackling  of 
thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is  the  laughter  of  the  fool." 
It  is  noisy — more  noisy  than  if  there  were  anything 
in  it.     But  it  soon  ceases.     Physical  limits  are  put 


J.     W.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  125 

to  gay  pleasures.  Mirth  was  meant  to  be  not  the 
food  Lilt  the  condiment.  The  loudest  lauo-her 
cannot  laugh  forever.  Lungs  and  diaphragm  for- 
bid and  rebel.  St.  Vitus  himself,  in  popish  story, 
saw  an  end  to  his  penal  dance.  There  is  a  time  of 
life  when  such  pleasures  become  as  difficult  as  they 
are  ungraceful ;  and  there  is  not  in  society  a  more 
ridiculous  object,  even  in  its  own  circle,  than  a 
tottering,  antiquated,  bedizened  devotee  of  fashion. 
Grief  comes  in  and  shortens  the  amusement.  Losses 
and  reverses  shorten  it.  And,  if  there  were  nothino- 
else,  pleasure  must  be  short,  because  it  cannot  be 
extended  to  Judgment  and  Eternity.  I  apprehend 
there  is  as  little  loud  laughter  in  heaven  as  in  hell. 
In  our  wiser  hours  Tre  think  of  permanent  joy 
under  far  different  and  more  tranquil  types  and 
emblems. 

4.  Worldly  mirtli  is  unsatisfying.  This  is  what 
is  chiefly  meant  by  the  word  Vanity.  "  This  also 
is  Vanity."  Solomon  tried  these  things,  and  in- 
scribed on  them,  "  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,'' 
i.  ^.,  emptiness  and  disappointment.  It  is  a  very 
common  experience  of  thousands — always  drinking, 
always  athirst — who  never  breathe  it  to  their 
neighbors,  and  who  yet  bring  up  their  children  to 
let  down  buckets  into  the  same  empty  wells.  The 
world's  pleasures  are  not  what  they  imagined. 
Even  money,  which  they  thought  omnipotent, 
(thus  making  it  God^  and  thus  proving  covetous- 
ness  to  be  what  sacred  Scripture  calls  it,  idolatry)  ; 
divine  money  will  not  buy  solid  peace.  The  man 
wonders  why  the  toys  and  rattles  which  pleased 


126  THE      PRIFCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

liim  once,  please  him  now  no  more.  They  are  vanity, 
and  all  is  vanity ;  and  every  day  that  he  lives  longer 
will  make  it  more  formidably  vanity.  Now,  pray 
observe,  the  case  is  directly  the  reverse  with  regard 
to  sound  intellectual  and  spiritual  enjoyments  ;  for 
which  the  capacity  is  perpetually  increasing  with 
its  indulgence.  But  he  who  has  laughed  loudest 
and  longest,  comes  at  length,  though  from  habit 
still  wearing  the  guise  and  uttering  the  ejacula- 
tions of  joy,  to  know,  with  a  grinding  consciousness, 
that  "even  n  laughter  the  heart  is  sorrowful, 
and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is  heaviness." — Prov. 
xiv.  13. 

"  The  heart  of  fools  "  (ver.  4)  "  is,  nevertheless, 
in  the  house  of  mirth ;"  but  thus  far  accompanying 
Solomon  on  this  path  which  he  knew  so  well,  we 
have  found  nothing  which  should  place  it  among 
the  resorts  of  true  wisdom.  It  is  not  the  house  to 
live  in,  or  to  diejn.  One  might  stop  there  on  a 
journey,  but  will  not  seek  it  as  an  abode.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  you  have  undervalued  and  mistaken  that 
other  house,  of  which  the  wise  man  speaks.  There 
is  no  brilliant  illumination  on  its  front ;  no  sounds 
of  revelino-  come  from  its  windows ;  its  avenues  are 
shaded  by  the  willow,  the  cjrpress,  and  the  yew. 
From  the  broad  road  few  go  aside  to  seek  this 
sequestered  mansion  ;  indeed  all  who  resort  hither 
seem  first  to  enter  against  their  will.  Yet  many 
who  emerge  from  this  covert  bear  marks  of  being 
sadder  and  wiser  men.  Under  this  roof  they  have 
been  brought  to  a  pause ;  have  learnt  a  lesson ; 
have  risen  to  an  elevation ;  have  found  a  friend ; 


J  .     W  .      ALEXANDER,     D  .  D  .  1  2  7 

and  have  acqiured  an  inheritance.  So  that  they 
are  less  fearful  when  summoned  to  enter  again ; 
less  ready  to  chase  the  butterfly  on  their  former 
highroad  ;  and  more  prepared  to  give  as  their  ex- 
perience :  "  The  heart  of  the-wise  is  in  the  house  of 
mourning."     We  say  then, 

5.  SorroiD  is  letter  than  laughter^  lecanse  sorroio 
hreeds  reflection.  The  man  who  sorrows,  must  muse. 
Even  the  customs  of  society  further  this.  Incon- 
siderate, headlong  people  are  sometimes  so  changed 
in  a  single  day  by  affliction,  as  to  be  a  wonder  to 
others  and  to  themselves.  Now  this  is  a  sfreat 
point,  because  much  of  irreligion  arises  from  want 
of  thought.  That  frivolous,  laughing  creature 
scarcely  knew  that  she  had  a  soul,  until  hurried 
into  this  bower  of  tears,  and  set  down  beside  some 
urn  of  sorrowful  memories,  and  made  to  hear,  in 
every  murmuring  leaf  and  breeze,  the  admonition, 
"  Consider  your  ways."  Worldly  pleasure  is  so 
much  the  reverse,  that  its  very  province  is  to  kill 
thought.  There  can  be  no  contemplation  amidst 
the  riot  of  self-indulgence ;  but  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing is  a  meditative  abode.  Its  doors  are  many. 
Its  inmates  are  of  every  tribe,  age,  and  character. 
Each  mourns  apart :  "  the  heart  knoweth  its  own 
bitterness."  But  each  has  been  brouo^ht  to  conside- 
ration.  The  sorrowing  man  has  at  least  found  out 
this — that  he  is  vulnerable.  There  is  no  piety  in 
this ;  but  commonly  there  can  be  no  piety  without  it. 
He  who  falls  wounded,  is  prompt  to  examine  the 
arrow ;  and  sometimes  sees  it  labelled  witli  his  sin. 
Before  they  were  afflicted,  a  large  proportion  of 


128  THE      PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

God's  people  went  astray ;  and,  if  they  live  long 
enough,  they  can  all  declare,  that  the  solemn  pauses 
of  their  bereavement,  illness,  poverty,  shame,  and 
fear,  have  been  better  to  them  than  the  dainties  of 
the  house  of  feasting.   • 

6.  Sorrow  is  better  than  laugliter^  because  sorroio 
brings  lessons  of  wisdom.  Sufferers  not  only  think 
but  learn.  Many  sermons  could  not  record  all  the 
lessons  of  affliction.  It  is  indeed  a  melting  of  the 
whole  surface,  fitting  it  for  the  im]3ression  of  every 
religious  truth.  Considered  as  the  fruit  of  chastise- 
ment, and  as  coming  from  an  offended  but  loving 
Master  and  Judge,  its  chief  teaching  is  undoubtedly 
that  of  reproof.  It  tells  us  wherein  we  have  offend- 
ed. It  takes  us  away  from  -  the  flattering  crowd? 
and  from  seducing  charmers,  and  keenly  reaches, 
with  its  probe,  the  hidden  iniquity.  This  is  less 
j)leasing  than  worldly  joy,  but  it  is  more  profitable. 
Our  best  advisers  are  those  who  are  never  found 
among  the  frolicsome  and  luxurious,  but  who  take 
us  by  the  hand  in  the  darkened  chamber.  Ver.  5, 
"  It  is  better  to  bear  the  rebuke  of  the  w^ise,  than 
for  a  man  to  hear  the  song  of  fools."  The  Bible  is 
the  chief  book  in  the  house  of  mourning — read  by 
some  there  who  have  never  read  it  elsewhere,  and 
revealing  to  its  most  assiduous  students  new  truths, 
shining  forth  in  affliction  like  stars  which  have 
been  hidden  in  daylight.  But,  above  all,  the 
house  of  mourning  is  the  chosen  resort  of  the  great 
Teacher,  who  visited  Martha  and  Mary,  and  who 
never  discloses  his  face  amidst  the  glare  of  convivial 
torches,  or  wastes  his   j^ensive  tones  among  the 


J.      W.     ALEXANDEK,D.D.  129 

clamours  of  fasliionaLle  pleasure.  Many  ages  before 
God  was  incarnate,  Messiali  speaks  of  himself  in 
prophecy,  as  the  instructor  of  the  sorrowing :  Isa. 
1.  4,  "  The  Lord  hath  given  me  the  tongue  of  the 
learned  (the  power  of  instruotion),  that  I  should 
know  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  him  that 
is  wear}^"  It  is  a  sufficient  indemnity  for  all  losses, 
if  in  the  house  of  mourning  we  meet  Avith  Ilim^ 
who  does  not  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench 
the  smoking  flax.  In  days  of  pleasure  we  seldom 
think  of  deatli.  Who  would  venture  on  the  word 
in  any  crowd  of  persons  engaged  for  hours  in  the 
solemn  business  of  amusing  themselves  %  But  it 
is  the  subject  of  a  great  lesson,  which  is  apt  to  be 
brought  vividly  before  us  in  the  hour  of  bereave- 
ment or  in  the  sick-chamber;  and  numbering  of 
our  days  is  indispensable  in  order  that  we  apply 
our  hearts  unto  wisdom.  Hence  our  context :  "  It 
is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than  to^go 
to  the  house  of  feasting ;  for  that  (to  wit,  death, 
V.  1)  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  living  will  lay 
it  to  his  heart."  These  are  but  samples  of  the  wis- 
dom to  which  we  are  introduced  by  sorrow. 

T.  Sorrow  is  letter  than  lauyhter,  hecause  sorrow 
amends  the  heart  and  life.  Not  by  any  efficiency 
of  good  ;  of  such  efficiency,  pain,  whether  of  body 
or  mind,  knows  nothing;  but  by  becoming  the 
vehicle  of  divine  influences.  I  have  not  yet  read 
or  heard  of  a  single  soul  renewed  by  the  garrulous 
assembly,  or  in  the  jovial  hall.  But  how  multi- 
tudinous would  be  the  procession,  if  we  could  see 
at  once  all  who  have  issued  new  creatures  from  the 


130  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

house  of  mourning !  Even  tliere — some  there  are — 
so  blasted  by  depraved  passion,  and  so  rocky  in 
selfishness,  as  to  brave  every  softening  influence  of 
truth,  though  poured  over  them  by  the  very  hand 
of  a  chastising  God.  But  yet  the  ways  of  pro- 
vidence are  such,  that  troubled  spirits,  bathed  in 
tears,  are  repeatedly  made  to  cry  with  a  joy  which 
swallows  U23  all  foregoing  griefs,  "  Before  we  were 
afflicted  we  went  astray,  but  now  have  we  kept  thy 
law  !" 

Laughter  is  not — cannot  be — ^but  sorrow  daily 
is  a  means  of  grace — a  channel  for  heavenly  love 
and  divine  truth  to  convey  itself  into  hearts  emptied 
of  earthly  good,  till  the  full  soul,  amazed  at  its 
own  haj^piness,  despises  its  former  delusions,  and 
glories  even  in  tribulation ;  yielding  to  wave 
after  wave  of  the  gracious  current,  and  naming 
these,  Patience,  Experience,  Hope,  and  Love  of 
God,  shed  abroad  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  Shrink  not 
then  from  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  my  brother, 
my  sister,  despise  not,  faint  not.  Mistake  not  the 
gentle  hand  which  droj)S  no  disquietude  or  pang, 
even  of  a  moment,  but  by  the  consent  and  at  the 
bidding  of  One  that  standeth  by,  sustaining  the 
throbbing,  swooning  patient  in  his  own  arms,  and 
yielding  himself  to  the  touch  of  our  infirmities,  the 
rather,  as  He  was  once  tried  in  all  points,  like  as 
we  are.  "  By  the  sadness  of  the  countenance  the 
heart  is  made  better." 

It  is  the  common  testimony  of  Christians,  that 
they  seldom  learn  very  fast  in  Christ's  school,  ex- 
cej^t  when  they  are  under  the  rod.     On  a  sudden, 


D.D.  131 

tlie  believer  comes  to  consider  liow  mucli  he  has 
been  prospered,  and  liow  different  liis  case  is  from 
what  he  remembers.  "  Then,"  says  he,  "  I  was  per- 
j^etually  turning  to  the  most  sorrowful  passages  of 
Job,  David,  and  Jeremiah.  Now  I  am  in  peace. 
My  table  is  laden — my  cup  overflows.  Cold  and 
nakedness  are  only  figures  of  poetry.  If  not  in 
wealth,  I  am  exempt  from  embarrassment.  My 
senses  and  my  health  are  preserved.  It  is  long 
since  I  was  in  mourning  for  a  near  friend."  Thus 
Job  said :  "  I  shall  die  in  my  nest,  and  I  shall  mul- 
tiply my  days  as  the  sand.  My  root  was  spread 
out  by  the  waters,  and  the  dew  lay  all  night  upon 
my  branch."  The  prosperous  believer  owns  all 
this,  and  looks  around  him,  at  first  with  surprise 
and  complacency,  but  then  with  disquietude.  For 
he  sees  likewise  that  in  some  degree  he  has  for- 
gotten God  his  Sa^^our.  The  Bible  has  become 
less  precious.  Prayer  is  less  frequent,  importunate, 
and  indispensable.  Daily  taking  up  the  cross  is 
unknown.  Sympathy  with  the  wretched  is  less 
deep.  Self-importance  is  on  the  increase.  Love  of 
the  world,  in  some  of  its  shapes,  is  gaining  strength. 
God  is  more  absent  from  his  thoughts — Christ  is 
scarcely  longed  for,  as  in  hours  of  humility  and 
tenderness ;  the  Holy  Spirit  is  less  cried  out  for,  and 
panted  after,  as  a  Comforter.  In  short,  prosperity 
has  brought  leanness  into  the  soul. 

Happy  are  they  who  take  heed  in  time,  and  pro- 
fit under  the  whisper  of  admonition,  or  the  gentle 
threatening.  If  not,  Christ  loves  his  own  too  well 
to  leave  them  without  stripes.     And  what  a  won- 


132  THE     PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

derfiil  virtue  tliere  is  in  the  rod,  wlieii  it  is  in 
Christ's  Lands  !  Tlie  very  beginnings  of  cliastise- 
ment  sometimes  drive  the  wandering  child  iDack  to 
the  bosom  of  infinite  affection.  Continued  dangers, 
long  languishings  and  disappointments,  relapses  into 
grief,  sudden  alarms,  keen  anguish,  redoubled  visit- 
ations, in  stroke  upon  stroke,  all  go  home  to  his 
soul,  by  the  mighty  power  of  sanctifying  grace. 
In  his  affliction  he  seeks  God ;  in  his  affliction  he 
cannot  live  a  moment  without  Christ.  There  is 
such  an  ordered  connexion  between  sin  and  sorrow, 
that  from  his  sorrows  he  goes  back  to  his  sins ;  and 
hours  of  pain  and  fear  become  hours  of  repenting. 
If  he  repined  before,  he  can  repine  no  longer. 
"  Wherefore  doth  a  living  man  complain,  a  man  for 
the  punishment  of  his  sins?  Let  us  search  and 
try  our  way,  and  turn  again  to  the  Lord !"  He 
prays ;  if  his  trial  is  great,  he  prays  without  ceas- 
ing. Though  he  never  felt  smaller  in  his  own  eyes, 
God  is  nevertheless,  by  these  very  means,  exalting 
him  and  instructing  him,  and  deepening  the  work 
of  grace  in  his  heart.  That  prime  part  of  his  spi- 
ritual education  is  making  rapid  advances,  namel}^, 
the  subduing  of  his  will  to  the  will  of  God.  He  is 
becoming  more  indifferent  to  wordly  good  or  evil ; 
more  willing  that  God  should  rule  and  dispose ; 
more  fixed  on  the  great  spiritual  and  eternal  ends 
of  life  ;  more  ready  to  prefer  holiness  (though  by 
painful  means)  to  joy  and  ease ;  and  more  resolved 
to  make  his  all  consist  in  knowing,  serving,  and  en- 
joying the  Lord  his  Redeemer.  If,  my  brethren, 
a  visit  to  the  House  of  Sorrow  makes  the  face  of 


J.     Vr,     ALEXANDEIl,     D.D.  133 

Jesus  more  familiar  or  more  beloved,  tlien  slirink 
not  from  putting  your  hand  in  His,  and  following 
Him  even  into  deeper  shadows  than  any  you  have 
yet  known ;  for,  above  all  beings,  it  is  He  who 
knows  the  most  of  affliction. 

8.  Sorroiv  is  hetter  than  lavgliter^  hecause  sorrow 
likens  us  to  Him  wliovn  tve  love.  You  know  His 
name.  He  is  the  3fan  of  Soi^rows — the  companion 
or  brother  of  grief. — (Is.  liii.)  His  great  work, 
even  our  salvation,  was  not  more  by  power  or  holi- 
ness than  by  sorrows.  He  took  our  flesh,  that  He 
might  bear  our  sorrows.  And  I  have  sometimes 
been  humbled  to  think,  that  we  resemble  Christ  in 
nothing  so  nearly  as  in  suffering.  Not  in  holiness ; 
alas,  how  distant  the  imitation  !  Not  in  wisdom, 
or  devotion,  or  self-sacrificing  love.  But  sometimes 
we  are  allowed  to  fill  up  (Coloss.  i.  24)  "that 
which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  our 
flesh" — to  drain  some  dregs  of  his  ocean-cup — to 
have  a  faint,  suggestive  semblance  of  his  pains — in  a 
lesser  sense,  to  be  made  conformable  unto  His  death. 
We  abjure  all  Popish  notions  of  penance,  self-pun- 
ishment, sharing  mediatorial  agonies,  adding  to  in- 
finite merits.  AYe  abhor  them  as  constructive  blas- 
phemy; but  we  cling  to  the  belief,  that  in  the 
progress  of  the  mystical  union,  wherein  "  the  head 
of  every  man  is  Christ,"  there  is  even  here  a  con- 
formity between  the  Head  and  the  members,  and 
that  this  conformity  is  partly  effected  in  the  House 
of  Mourning.  And  then  mark  the  consequences : 
"  As  the  sufferings  of  Christ  abound  in  us,  so  our 
consolation  also  aboundeth  by  Christ."     "  For  even 


134  THE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

hereunto  were  ye  called,  because  Christ  also  suffered 
for  us,  leaving  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow 
his  steps."  "  Rejoice,  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers 
of  Christ's  sufferings,  that  when  His  glory  shall  be 
revealed,  ye  also  may  be  glad  with  excess  of 
joy."  If  we  suffer  with  Him,  we  shall  also  reign 
with  Him.  If  continued,  or  repeated,  or  unusual 
trials  be  your  lot,  till  it  become  the  very  habit  of 
your  mind  to  look  for  every  cloud  to  bring  a 
storm,  think  it  not  strange ;  be  not  tossed  away 
from  your  anchorage ;  let  faith  and  hoj^e  hold  fast ; 
give  God  the  glory  which  belongs  to  His  ]3aternal 
wisdom,  and  Jesus  the  reliance  which  befits  His 
dying  compassion ;  and  know  of  a  surety,  that  every 
redoubling  wave  of  grief  is  definitely  adjusted  in 
time  and  measure,  to  carry  you  to  that  certain  ele- 
vation of  joy  which  could  not  be  reached  without  it. 
Deej)ly  feel  that  there  is  a  guidance  of  unerring 
wisdom  in  these  particular  pains,  which  makes 
them  the  exact  remedies  for  your  evils,  and  the 
powerful  instruments,  through  grace,  of  bringing 
you  nearer  to  the  Lord ;  and  while  you  tremble, 
learn  to  say,  "  Tlie  cup  which  my  Father  giveth  me, 
shall  I  not  drink  it  ?" 

9.  Sorroiv  is  letter  than  lavcjliter  (last  of  all), 
hecause  sorrow  ends  in  joy.  There  is  a  sorrow  of 
the  world  which  worketh  death ;  there  are  earthly 
pangs  which  are  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows; 
there  are  losses  which  go  on  increasing  for  ever, 
and  chastisements  which  prepare  for  judgment. 
Nevertheless,  there  are  those  things  in  grief  which 
open  towards  heaven,  and   those   things   in  the 


J.     W.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  135 

House  of  jMoiirniug  Avliicli  the  wise  man  ^\'in  lay  to 
Lis  lieart !  "Where  God  gives  ftiith,  He  gives  afflic- 
tion, and  sconrgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth ; 
and  these  tribulations  are  parts  of  the  chain  which 
binds  the  soul  to  its  coming  glory.  The  fiery  trial 
through  a  furnace  is  for  the  pui'ging  away  of  the 
dross,  that  there  may  come  forth  from  the  crucible 
a  golden  vessel  for  the  Master's  use.  Nothing  can 
add  to  our  holiness  without  adding  to  our  eventual 
joy.  How  this  operates  we  do  not  always  see ;  per- 
haps seldom.  But  the  i:)rocess  is  not  the  less  cer- 
tain. The  very  resistance  of  a  virtuous  •  mind  to 
adversity — the  bracing  of  the  frame — the  breasting 
of  the  torrent — the  patience,  the  resignation,  the 
hope  amidst  the  billows,  the  love  that  kisses  the 
chastening  hand,  the  persistent  obedience  that 
works  on  against  wind  and  tide — as  w^ell  in  storm 
as  in  tranquillity — the  high  resolve  and  courac^e 
that  mount  more  boldly  out  of  the  surge  of  grief, 
the  silent  endurance  of  the  timid  and  the  frail,  when 
out  of  weakness  they  are  made  strong — these,  and 
such  as  these,  increase  the  ca2;)acity  for  future  holi- 
ness and  heavenly  bliss.  Of  those  ransomed  souls, 
who  open  the  bosom  to  the  largest  delights  of  Par- 
adise, it  shall  be  said,  "  These  are  they  that  have 
come  out  of  great  tribulation."  Such  are  not  the 
fruits  of  laughter  and  mirth ;  nor  such  the  rewards 
of  the  unregenerate  and  the  thoughtless.  They 
knew  not  that  their  heaven  was  all  in  this  life,  till 
the  short-lived  bubble  had  ex2:)loded.  Happy  had 
it  been  for  them,  if  their  occasional  sorrows  had  led 
them  to  reflection ;  but  they  were  unwise :  "  The 


136  THE    PEINOETON    PULPIT. 

heart  of  fools  is  in  the  house  of  mirth."  It  is  a 
serious  reason  why  we  should  set  a  watch  against 
immoderate  joy,  and  the  pleasures  and  pomps  of 
this  life ;  and  why  even  youth  should  repress  its 
maddening  thirst  for  perpetual  gaiety  and  volup- 
tuous self-pleasing. 

We  need  not  court  sorrow,  nor  rush  upon  it  un- 
bidden; it  will  come  uninvited.  But  when  it 
comes,  we  should  turn  the  seeming  enemy  into  a 
friend ;  we  should  prepare  for  it — it  is  inevitable ; 
we  should  profit  by  it — it  is  edifying.  Sad,  beyond 
the  common  lot,  is  the  case  of  that  man  who  re- 
ceives his  troubles  in  hardness  of  heart,  with  indif- 
ference, with  sullenness,  or  with  contempt ;  who, 
"  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck ;"  who 
sins  amidst  the  murmurs  of  Divine  rebuke,  and 
bares  his  heart  to  the  bolt  of  God's  anger.  No 
one  can  come  out  of  a  great  affliction  without  being 
signally  better,  or  greatly  worse.  It  were  as  well 
to  lau2:h  with  the  idle,  as  to  sit  in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful,  in  the  midst  of  deserved  warnings.  If 
anything  in  life  shall  swell  the  dire  account  of  the 
sinner,  it  will  be  his  neglected  trials  and  sufferings, 
every  one  of  which  should  have  been  to  him  a 
voice  from  heaven.  Trouble  after  .trouble  may 
come  on  a  man,  and  leave  him  less  and  less  impres- 
sible, but  not  less  guilty.  For  a  while  God  may 
even  leave  him  to  himself,  cease  to  chastise,  and 
suffer  his  latter  days  to  be  serene  in  apathy  and 
self-pleasing ;  but  wisdom  hears  a  voice  from  the 
throne,  saying,  "  Why  should  ye  be  stricken  any 
more  ?  ye  will  revolt  yet  more  and  more  !    Ephraim 


J.     W.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  137 

is  joined  to  liis  idols  :  let  him  alone  !"  He  may- 
be ricli,  lie  may  be  envied,  lie  may  say.  Soul,  take 
tliine  ease,  to-morrow  sball  be  as  this  day,  and  much 
more  abundant.  He  may  gain  the  whole  world, 
but  he  has  lost  his  owti  soul ! 

Give  me,  O  God,  the  sorrows  of  Thy  children, 
with  Thy  love,  Thy  Son,  and  Thy  Heaven,  rather 
than  the  Mse  peace  and  the  hollow  prosperity  of 
them  whom  thou  forsakest ! 

But  here  is  a  drop  of  sweetness,  from  Christ's 
own  hand,  let  fall  into  the  cup  of  anguish.  Take 
it,  and  rejoice !  Has  that  cup  been  bitter  ?  After- 
ward it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteous- 
ness. Resign  yourself  to  whatever  God  may 
appoint,  "  knowing  that  through  much  tribulation 
you  must  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  For 
the  first  breath  of  heaven  will  obliterate  every 
painful  remembrance  of  the  longest  lifetime  of  dis- 
tress. 


10 


LOOKING  AT  THE  THINGS  WHICH  ARE  NOT  SEEN. 

BY 

THE   REV.   ALBERT  B.   DOD,  DC, 

PROFESSOR   OF   MATHEMATICS. 


"  While  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which 
are  not  seen :  for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal  5  but  the  things 
which  are  not  seen  are  eternal." — II.  Corinthians,  iv.  18. 

In  this  passage,  the  Apostle  explains  to  us  tlie 
method  by  which  he  succeeded,  in  so  dealing  with 
the  trials  and  afflictions  of  life,  as  to  make  them 
the  means  of  his  spiritual  advancement :  so  that 
though  the  outivard  man  was perisliing^  the  inivard 
man  was  renewed  day  hy  day.  He  luas  trouhled  on 
every  side^  hut  not  distressed^-perplexed^  hit  not  iii 
despair — -persecuted^  hut  not  forsahen — cast  down^ 
hut  not  destroyed.  He  hove  ahout  in  Ms  hody 
the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus ;  but  it  was  that 
the  life  of  Jesus  might  he  made  manifest  in 
him.  The  grievous  sufferings  of  body  which  he 
endured ;  the  falsehood  and  treachery  of  friends  in 
whom  he  had  confided ;  the  persecuting  malignity 
of  those,  whom  he,  in  the  self-denying  spirit  of  love, 
was  seeking  to  benefit ;  the  unkind  and  harsh  re- 
pulses of  his  offered  ministrations  of  charity ;  the  de- 
risions and  sneers  with  which  the  truths  that  he 


ALBERT    B.     DOD,     D.D.  139 

delivered  were  received : — ^These,  and  many  other 
like  trials  that  lie  encountered,  inflicted  upon  him 
severe  pain,  amounting  at  times,  doubtless,  to  an- 
guish ;  so  much  so,  that  the  desolation  they  wrought 
is  fitly  described  as  the  work  of  death.  But  it  was 
the  death  only  of  the  outward  man ;  and,  instead 
of  harmins:  that  which  constituted  the  inner  and 
central  portion  of  his  being — his  moral  and  spirit- 
ual nature — it  only  contributed  to  his  life  and  joy. 

How  was  it  that  this  Apostle  was  enabled,  thus, 
to  take  joyfully  these  trials  which  have  prostrated 
others  ?  How  was  it  that  the  perishing  of  his  out- 
ward man  was  made  to  renew  his  inward  man  day 
by  day  ?  Where,  and  how,  did  he  get  that  strong 
assurance,  that  these  light  a^ictions  were  working 
for  him  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weiglit  of 
glory  f 

How  did  he  acquire  this  strange  mastery  over 
the  evils  of  his  lot — this  singular  power  to  hold  the 
world  in  subjection — ^to  triumph  over  temptation — 
to  rejoice  in  the  midst  of  sorrow — to  welcome  afflic- 
tion as  the  minister  to  his  spiritual  good,  and  to 
endm-e,  through  all  that  could  be  laid  upon  him, 
as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible  ? 

It  was  simply  by  looMng  at  the  things  which  are 
not  seen^  instead  of  looking  at  the  things  which  are 
seen ;  it  was  by  his  distinct  perception  and  strong 
belief  of  the  Truths  joined  to  the  habitual  contem- 
plation of  it,  that  he  was  enabled  to  rise  superior  to 
all  that  is  temporary,  transient,  and  accidental.  The 
things  that  are  not  seen  were  not  to  him,  as  they 
are  to  too  many  of  us,  the  barren  formulas  of  a  creed 


140  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

wliicli  lie  liad  been  taiiglit  to  receive — they  were 
not  the  shadowy  abstractions,  dim  and  indistinct, 
of  philosophical  speculation,  nor  the  poetic  fictions, 
beautiful  if  true,  of  religious  sentiment.  They  were 
realities,  as  distinctly  perceived,  and  as  certainly 
believed  as  if  seen  with  the  bodily  eye.  He  did 
not  doubt  of  their  existence.  His  faith  was  to  him 
as  the  evidence  of  eyesight,  bringing  to  light  that 
which  was  hidden,  giving  substance  to  that  which 
was  abstract,  and  drawing  into  nearness  that  which 
was  far  oif.  A  future  state  of  existence,  in  which 
the  righteous  shall  be  crowned  with  unspeakable 
and  everlasting  glory — instead  of  being,  in  his  mind, 
one  hyj^othesis  among  many,  superior  to  the  rest 
only  by  some  slender  preponderance  of  probability 
in  its  favor,  and  therefore  received  at  one  time  and 
rejected  at  another,  according  to  the  influence  of  the 
changing  modes  of  the  mind  ujwn  the  interpreta- 
tion of  evidence — was  a  truth  which  he  had  settled 
upon  grounds  which  were  never  more  to  be  dis- 
turbed, and  which,  by  frequent  reflection,  had  be- 
come so  worked  up  into  his  intellectual  and  moral 
being  that  it  formed  a  part  of  himself,  and  assisted 
in  constituting  the  medium  through  which  he  looked 
out  upon  all  the  events  of  his  condition  and  destiny. 
When  he  looked  upon  the  death  scene  of  some  dear 
friend,  or  when  he  forecast  his  own  dying  hour,  he 
was  harassed  by  no  misgivings  lest  death  might  be, 
after  all,  some  kind  of  a  leap  in  the  dark — a  plunge 
into  some  unknown  and  horrid  abyss.  "  For  we 
hioio^^''  said  he,  it  is  no  surmise,  resting  on  uncer- 
tain probabilities — it  is  no   hope,   cherished  and 


ALBEET    B.    DOD,     D.D.  141 

scarce  kept  calive  amid  conflicting  fears — but  "  ive 
hnotL\  tliat  if  our  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle 
were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of  God,  an  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 
Everywhere  in  the  writings  and  in  the  life  of  that 
Apostle,  we  observe  this  same  thoroughness  and 
depth  of  conviction.  There  is  a  sincerity  and  an 
earnestness  about  him  which  could  only  have  re- 
sulted in  the  most  intimate  persuasion,  that  he  was 
uttering  that  which  he  knew  to  be  true — that  he 
was  delivering  that  the  value  of  which  he  had  him- 
self tried.  It  is  evident  that,  in  his  mind,  the  gene- 
ral truths  of  religion  were  habitually  present  to 
rule  the  occasions  for  which  they  were  needed. 
This  material  and  sensible  world,  instead  of  girding 
him  around,  like  an  opaque  wall,  to  intercept  every 
ray  of  light  from  beyond  itself,  was  to  him  trans- 
lucent, in  every  part,  with  the  brightness  of  the 
sj)iritual  universe  that  surrounds  and  penetrates  it. 
Things  visible  were,  to  his  eye,  but  the  accidents 
and  vanishing  forms,  of  which  things  invisible  were 
the  true  and  abiding  realities. 

Any  man  who  can  attain  to  a  like  simj^licity  and 
strength  of  faith  in  an  unseen  world,  vnW  acquire 
a  like  supremacy  over  the  objects  and  scenes  of  this 
present  life. 

But  herein  lies  the  difficulty.  The  greater  part 
of  mankind  live  by  sense,  and  draw  their  motives 
of  action,  not  from  the  remote  conclusions  of  reason, 
but  from  their  present  feeling,  from  the  impres- 
sions made  upon  them  by  the  things  which  they 
deal  and  converse  with  every  day.     In  this  lies  all 


142  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

the  force  and  strength  of  worldly  temptations — for, 
were  the  things  of  this  world  and  of  another  eqnally 
distinct  and  near,  there  could  be  no  competition 
between  them.  But  the  things  of  this  world  sport 
and  play  before  the  senses.  No  man  can  avoid  see- 
ing them,  and  feeling,  to  some  extent,  their  influence ; 
and  many  men  feel  and  see  nothing  else.  They  are 
obtrusive,  thrusting  themselves  upon  our  notice,  and 
offering  to  us  a  seeming  good  which  our  hearts 
crave.  But  the  spiritual  world  is  hidden  from  our 
vision.  It  cannot  be  perceived  by  sense.  It  re- 
quires thought  and  reflection  to  find  it,  and,  when 
found,  it  can  be  kept  before  the  mind  only  by  a 
continual  resistance  to  the  temporary  impressions 
to  which  we  are  subject.  The  things  of  this  world 
have,  in  this  respect,  an  important  advantage,  and 
our  moral  position  is  rendered  thereby  one  of  ex- 
treme difiiculty  and  hazard. 

The  spiritual  system  to  which  we  belong  is  but 
partially  disclosed  to  the  most  patient  and  earnest 
seeker.  They  who  know  the  most  of  it,  know  only 
in  part.  And  in  that  small  part  which  is  open  to 
our  survey  and  comprehension,  we  find  much  to 
perplex  and  embarrass  us.  The  general  idea  to 
which  we  come,  of  moral  order  and  the  feeling  that 
we  ourselves  are  subject  to  its  requisitions,  are  so 
often  confounded  and  set  at  nought  by  the  anoma- 
lies and  disorders  which  we  see  prevailing  around 
us ;  there  is  so  much  that  seems  to  be  fitted  to  sus" 
tain  and  sanction  a  life  that  is  shaped  only  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  demands  of  passion  and  the  views 
of  wordly  prudence  ;  that  we  are  in  continual  dan- 


ALBERT    B.    DOD,    D.D.  143 

ger  of  losing  sight  of  the  paminoimt  nature  and 
claims  of  general  principles,  amidst  doul^tful  in- 
stances and  apparent  exceptions.  Truth,  virtue, 
justice,  and  all  the  general  ideas  and  laws  which 
belong  to  our  moral  nature,  come  thus  to  be  looked 
upon  as  fragments  of  an  hypothesis  that  but  partially 
explains  our  condition,  rather  than  as  expressions  of 
the  true  reality ;  and  they  fail,  therefore,  to  obtain 
such  a  practical  hold  upon  our  feelings  as  is  needful 
for  our  sure  and  steady  guidance.  We  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  retain  at  all  times  and  through  all  tempta- 
tions, such  a  conviction  of  their  reality  and  import- 
ance as  to  make  us  conform  our  conduct  to  them. 

The  man  who  is  tempted  to  increase  his  -wealth 
by  some  fraudulent  act,  which  he  imagines  he  may 
safely  commit,  yields  to  the  temptation  because  of 
his  want  of  faith  in  honesty  as  a  real  principle  of 
action.  He  is  sure  of  the  wealth  that  he  will  gain, 
he  is  sure  of  the  good  wdiich  this  wealth  w^ill  j^ro- 
cure  him,  but  he  is  not  sure  that  the  notion  of 
honesty  is  anything  more  than  a  mere  notion,  or  a 
convenient  hypothesis  that  may  be  dispensed  with 
on  pressing  occasions ;  or,  at  best,  it  is  involved  in 
so  much  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  that  it  yields  to 
the  more  palpable  existence  and  claims  of  the 
things  that  are  seen.  If  he  truly  believed  in  the 
law  of  honesty,  he  would  feel  that  he  could  never 
violate  this  law  without  incurring  loss  and  damage 
that  would  infinitely  outweigh  the  temporary  and 
partial  benefit  of  trangression.  But,  to  the  eye  of 
sense,  the  benefit  is  near  and  certain — the  loss  is 
distant  and  doubtful ;  and,  through  the  want  or  the 


144  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

weakness  of  faith,  tliat  which  is  seen  prevails  over 
that  which  is  not  seen. 

So,  too,  in  every  instance  in  which  men  act  under 
the  influence  of  views  and  motives  that  leave  out 
of  account  a  future  state  of  being,  they  disclose  the 
feebleness  of  their  faith  in  another  world.  If  it  be 
true  that  the  soul  of  man  is  immortal,  and  that  it  is 
now  undergoing  a  process  of  discipline  to  fit  it  for 
its  eternal  state,  then  nothing  can  be  clearer  than 
that  the  whole  importance  of  this  life  is  derived 
from  its  relation  to  the  life  that  is  to  come.  All 
things  here  are  but  means  to  the  attainment  of  the 
true  ends  of  our  being ;  and  all  schemes  and  plans? 
all  desii'es  and  affections,  that  terminate  in  the  pre- 
sent life,  without  due  reference  and  subordination 
to  our  immortality,  are  founded  upon  an  untrue 
estimate  of  our  condition.  They  involve,  of  neces- 
sity, a  wrong  judgment  of  the  understanding,  and 
impeach  the  soundness  of  the  intellect  no  less  than 
the  purity  of  the  heart. 

Doubtless,  it  was  possible  that  God  could  have 
so  made  and  placed  us,  that  we  should  have  been 
delivered  from  the  blindness  and  uncertainty  which 
now  beset  our  conclusions  on  moral  subjects.  We 
can  conceive  that,  without  any  enlargement  or  mo- 
dification of  our  present  faculties,  we  might  have 
been  permitted  to  hold  intercourse  with  other 
moral  beings  who  have  had  a  larger  exj^erience 
than  ours,  and  enjoyed  a  closer  intimacy  with  the 
principles  and  purposes  of  the  Divine  governments. 
The  millions  of  spiritual  creatures  that  walk  the 
earth  unseen,  might   have  been  commissioned  to 


ALBERT    B.     DOD,    D.D.  145 

manifest  tliemselves  unto  us,  and  strengtlien  our 
faith  by  the  communication  of  theirs.  The  govern- 
ment of  God  might  have  been  laid  bare  so  widely 
and  fully  to  our  inspection,  and  the  consequences  of 
every  action,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  so  clearly 
shown,  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  any 
mind  to  throw  off  the  conviction  of  the  invariable 
obligations  of  virtue  and  the  folly  of  vice ;  such 
light  might  have  been  poured  around  us,  such  reve- 
lations made  of  things  not  now  seen,  as  would  at 
once  supersede  many  of  our  greatest  difficulties  and 
put  an  end  to  our  fickle  vibrations  from  one  side  to 
the  other.  We  see  no  reason  why  such  disclosures 
of  truth  might  not  be  made  even  here  as  would  be 
sufficient  to  confirm  the  falterino;  virtue  of  all  who 
love  the  truth,  and  throw  ofi'  those  that  hate  it  into 
irreconcilable  and  deadly  opposition. 

But  whether  possible  or  not,  such  is  not  our 
actual  lot,  nor  would  such  an  unrestrained  and  over- 
whelming revelation  consist  with  the  obvious  pur- 
pose of  God  in  relation  to  us.  It  is  evident  that 
our  present  state  was  intended  to  be  one  of  trial 
and  discipline ;  and  it  appears  to  be,  so  far  as  we 
can  judge,  essential  to  such  a  state  that  there  should 
be  so  much  reserve  as  to  leave  room  for  the  conflict 
of  antagonist  principles.  The  infidel  has  asked 
with  a  sneer,  "  Has  God  spoken  ?  Then  why  has 
not  man  believed  ?"  As  if  the  possibility  of  disbe- 
lief were  a  proof  that  the  voice  could  not  have 
come  from  God.  But  what  if  it  were  not  the  purpose 
of  God  so  to  speak  as  to  compel  the  attention  of 
those  who  are  unwilling  to  hear  ?     Had  He  broken 


146  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

in  upon  the  stillness  of  this  netlier  world  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  compelling  every  man  to  hear  and  re- 
gard, it  would  have  frustrated  the  design  with 
which  He  has  placed  us  here.  Instead  of  this.  He 
has  spoken  in  a  voice  so  distinct,  that  all  who  listen 
earnestly  for  it,  may  hear  and  understand ;  but  so 
still,  that  men  may,  if  they  choose,  close  their  ears 
to  its  teachings.  We  are  left  to  choose  whether 
we  will  believe  or  disbelieve.  The  popular  notion 
that  belief  is  independent  of  the  will,  and,  there- 
fore, not  a  proper  ground  for  praise  or  blame,  is  so 
far  from  being  true,  that,  on  the  contrary,  that 
which  it  is  most  important  for  us  to  believe  is  that 
which  we  need  not  believe,  unless  we  are  willing  to 
do  so.  Whosoever  will,  may  acquaint  himself  with 
the  truth  ;  but  neither  reason  nor  revelation  forces 
it  upon  the  notice  or  acceptance  of  any  one  who 
is  reluctant  to  find,  or  unwilling  to  receive  it. 
Thins^s  eternal  are  so  far  revealed  as  to  manifest 
themselves  to  the  eye  that  freely  seeks  and 
fixes  upon  them,  while  they  are  unseen  by  all 
who  choose  to  turn  away  and  pass  on  in  heedless 
disregard.  Vice  is  often  so  disguised  in  the  shape 
of  virtue,  and  error  counterfeits  so  nearly  the  sem- 
blance of  truth,  that  the  one  may  be  easily  mis- 
taken for  the  other. 

Such  is  our  actual  position :  and  it  is  worse  than 
useless  to  rej^ine  or  murmur  under  its  privations  and 
hardships.  We  are  shut  up  here  as  prisoners  in  a 
small  part  of  God's  dominions ;  and,  though  light 
from  beyond  steals  in  through  here  and  there  a 
window  of  our  prison-house,  it  does  not  come  with 


ALBERT    B.     DOD,    D.D.  147 

sucli  noon-d;iy  l)laze  as  to  obscure  at  all  times  tlie 
taper-liglits  of  our  own  kindling ;  it  does  not  enter 
in  all  directions — it  does  not  disclose  to  us  fully  all 
that  we  desire  to  know.  But  if  we  will  receive  freely 
and  gladly  its  mild  beams,  and  train  our  eyes  long 
and  steadily  to  its  use,  we  can  learn  to  see  clearly  all 
that  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  know ;  and  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  turn  away  in  proud  dissatisfaction 
from  the  openings  through  which  this  light  enters, 
and  waste  our  strength  in  important  attempts  to 
break  at  other  points  through  the  dark  walls  by 
which  w^e  are  bound  in,  or  if  we  only  casually  and 
carelessly  attend  to  it,  as  it  seems  to  flash  now 
and  then  before  us,  we  shall  soon  become  altogether 
incapable  of  perceiving  it.  False  lights  will  shed, 
their  glare  around  us,  and  so  illuminate  the  gaudy 
pomps  and  trickeries  by  which  we  are  surrounded 
— so  magnify  the  false  attractions  and  urgent  inte- 
rests of  the  passing  moment,  that  our  prison  will 
become  to  us  as  our  home.  The  things  that  are 
seen,  though  they  are  but  temporal,  will  become  to 
us  more  important  than  the  eternal  things  w^hich 
are  unseen.  The  facility  with  which  we  can  so 
dispose  of  the  convictions  of  reason  and  conscience 
as  to  permit  ourselves,  without  the  most  j)ungent 
remorse,  to  live  on  the  indulgence  of  an  undue  re- 
gard for  the  things  of  this  world, — the  ease  wdth 
which  we  can  turn  the  light  that  is  within  us,  into 
darkness,  and  call  good,  evil,  and  evil,  good, — is 
one  of  the  most  alarming  features  of  our  depravity. 
It  would  seem  impossible  that  any  thoughtful  mind 
could  reflect  upon  this  peculiarity  of  its  nature, 


148  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

without  being  startled  into  instant  prayer  to  God, 
accompanied  witli  tlie  most  patient  and  earnest 
seeking  after  truth.  It  is  only  thus  that  we  can 
hope  to  attain  right  views  of  our  condition,  and  of 
those  truths  that  are  to  rule  our  destiny. 

It  needs  no  argument  to  prove  that  the  great 
majority  of  men  act  habitually  under  the  influence 
of  erroneous  judgments.  They  attribute  a  fixedness 
and  value  to  the  things  of  this  life  that  do  not  really 
belong  to  them.  They  hold  the  great  moral  truths, 
by  which  the  soul  of  man  ought  to  live,  so  loosely 
that  they  give  way  continually  to  the  clamorous 
demands  of  passion  and  interest.    Looking  only,  or 
chiefly  at  the  things  that  are  seen,  their  standards 
of  judgment  are  commensurate  only  with  the  wants 
of  a  temporal  life,  and  are,  therefore,  essentially  de- 
fective and  false.     Their  habitual  interests  are  the 
product,  not  of  truth,  but  of  fancy,  and  the  scenes 
which  surround  them  are  as  unreal  as  the  phanta- 
sies of  a  dream.    Their  lives  are  a  vain  show.    It  is 
true  that  there  is  a  material  world — the  visible  ob- 
jects before  us  have  a  real  existence ;  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  wealth,  and  worldly  honour  and  human 
applause  ;  there  is  love  and  friendship,  the  domes- 
tic fireside,  and  the  warm  household  aff'ections  that 
grow  up  beside  it,  literature  and  science,  and  a 
thousand  other  objects  of  desire  and  sources  of 
pleasure.     We  do  not  call  in  question  the  real  ex- 
istence of  these  things  that  are  seen.   But  what  are 
they  ?     What  it  their  intrinsic  nature  ?     What  is 
their  true  value  ?     Here  the  men  of  this  world  fall 
into  grevious  error  and  delusion.    The  world,  in  its 


ALBERT     B.      DOD,    D.D.  149 

largest  sense,  as  comprising  all  the  objects  whicli 
here  appeal  to  our  desires  and  aftections,  is  to  us 
whatever  our  judgment  of  it  makes  it  to  be.     And 
the  judgment  which  the  majority  of  men  form  of  it 
is  radically  false.  They  world  is  not,  in  truth,  what 
they  take  it  for.  It  stands  before  them  clothed  with 
a  light,  and  endowed  with  qualities  which  do  not 
really  belong  to  it.  They  commit  an  error  like  that 
of  the  child  who  leaps  up  to  grasp  the  rainbow. 
There  is  a  rainbow,  but  it  is  not  what  he  supposes 
it  to  be.     And  so  the  things  that  are  seen,  in  the 
shapes  that  they  assume  before  the  minds  of  men,  as 
objects  of  desire,   and  motives  to  action,  do  not 
really  exist.     Their   conceptions  of  them  are  not 
framed  in  accordance  with  theii'  true  nature  and 
qualities,  and  the  judgments  founded  upon  these 
conceptions  are  all  more  or  less  unsound.     He  who 
thus  spreads  abroad  the  colors  of  his  own  fancy, 
and  who  looks  habitually  at  things  temporal  and 
finite  out  of  their  relations  to  that  which  is  eternal 
and  infinite,  can  only  have  a  knowledge  about  as 
approximate  to  the  reality,  as  that  which  belongs 
to  the  animalculae  to  whom  the  dew  drop  is   an 
ocean,     We  can  have  no  true  knowledge  of  our- 
selves unless  we  study  ourselves  in  our  relation  to 
God.     We  can  never  know  wdiat  this  world  truly 
is,  unless  we  look  at  it  in  its  connexion  with  the 
world  that  is  to  come. 

The  necessity  of  the  diligent  study  and  contem- 
plation of  the  truths  that  connect  us  with  another 
world,  is  estimated  by  the  Apostle  when  he  says, 
"  we  hole  at  the  things  that  are  not  seen."     The 


150  THE     PRINCETON"     PULPIT. 

original  word  implies  deep  and  careful  considera- 
tion. It  is  the  same  word  tliat  is  used  by  our  Sa- 
viour when  he  delivers  the  solemn  injunction,  "  looh^'' 
or  take  lieecl  "  that  the  light  that  is  within  thee  be 
not  darkness."  If  we  bestow  only  casual  and  hur- 
ried glances  upon  the  things  that  are  not  seen,  in 
the  intervals  of  our  zealous  pursuit  after  the  things 
that  are  seen,  we  assuredly  shall  never  obtain  such 
a  knowledge  and  belief  of  them  as  will  enable  us 
to  use  them  for  practical  purposes.  We  cannot 
snatch  the  meaning  of  these  high  truths  by  such 
random  and  careless  efforts.  We  must  look  long 
and  fixedly  upon  them  before  we  can  penetrate 
their  essence,  and  so  saturate  our  souls  with  their 
meaning,  as  to  make  them  effective  in  regulating 
our  feelings  and  our  conduct.  In  proportion  to  the 
distinctness  and  fulness  of  the  knowledge  which  we 
acquire  of  religious  truth,  will  be  the  strength  of 
our  faith,  and  the  degree  of  influence  which  it  will 
exert  over  us.  We  cannot  be  said  properly  to  un- 
derstand any  moral  truth  unless  we  feel  it,  nor  can 
we  understand  or  feel  unless  we  believe.  The  be- 
lief, the  knowledge,  and  the  practical  effect  of  any 
moral  truth  or  principle,  are  co-extensive,  and  any 
one  of  them  may  be  taken  as  the  strict  measure  of 
the  others.  And  here  we  see  the  indispensable 
necessity  of  regeneration  through  the  influence  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  Without  a  new  heart  we  are  in- 
capable of  the  actual  intuition  of  truth,  because  we 
are  destitute  of  the  holy  affections  through  which 
alone  it  can  be  comprehended.  No  exercise  of  the 
mere  reasoning  intellect  can  ever  give  us  a  correct 


ALBEKT     B.      DOD,    D.D.  151 

appreliension  of  moral  qualities  and  trutlis.  Our 
consciousness  is  liere,  as  in  other  things,  tlie  master 
light  of  all  our  seeing.  Unless  our  own  experience 
has  taught  us  the  meaning  of  holy  love,  how  can 
we  frame  any  adequate  conception  of  God,  who  is 
love  ?  And  how  can  we  understand  any  moral 
truth  unless  our  own  feelings  have  been  such  as  to. 
illustrate  its  meaning  ?  It  is  one  of  the  prerogatives 
of  the  truths  of  revelation,  that  the  principle  of 
knowledge  is  likewise  a  spring  and  principle  of  ac- 
tion. It  necessarily  implies  a  right  moral  state  of 
heart. 

Without  a  regenerate  heart  men  believe  in  the 
truths  of  the  Bible,  only  as  they  believe  in  the 
beauties  of  a  fine  country  through  which  they  tra- 
vel in  darkness.  They  may  believe  from  the  de- 
scription and  testimony  of  others  that  they  are  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  lovely  scenery,  but  their  no- 
tions of  it  are  too  vao^ue  and  indistinct  to  awaken 
the  emotion  that  attends  the  actual  inspection  of 
beauty,  until  the  rising  sun  has  revealed  to  them 
the  varied  richness  of  the  scene  that  encircles  them. 
So  it  is  with  the  truths  of  Scripture.  The  natural 
man  comprehendeth  them  not,  for  they  are  spirit- 
ually discerned.  There  is  a  vail  upon  the  unrege- 
nerate  heart  throuo^h  which  it  sees  not  at  all,  or 
only  with  a  dim  and  uncertain  ^dsion  like  his  to 
whom  men  seemed  like  trees  walking.  But  let  the 
day-star  arise,  let  Him  who  caused  the  light  to 
shine  out  of  darkness,  shine  into  his  heart;  and 
the  truths  that  were  but  darkly  perceived,  brighten 
at  once  into  new  light.    He  professed  before  to  be- 


152  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

lieve  in  tlie  existence  and  attributes  of  God,  but 
this  truth  now  bursts  upon  liim  in  a  ricliness  and 
fulness  of  meaning  of  wliicli  lie  bad  bad  no  previous 
conception ;  and  be  feels  tbat  to  know  God  is  to 
love  bim.  He  professed  before  to  believe  tbat 
Jesus  Cbrist  bad  died  to  redeem  jis  from  deatb, 
but  now  be  sees  tbe  grace  and  glory  of  tbe  Sa^dour 
in  sucb  a  ligbt  as  makes  bim  feel  tbe  surprise  of  a 
new  discovery  amid  tbe  trutbs  of  man's  redemp- 
tion. 

It  is  in  tbe  new  birtb  tbat  we  must  seek  tbe  com- 
mencement of  all  true  knowledge  of  spiritual  tbings. 
We  enforce  tben  tbis  primary  lesson  of  Cbristianity, 
"  ye  must  be  born  again,"  as  an  indispensable  pre- 
requisite to  any  adequate  or  effective  consideration 
of  tbe  tbings  tbat  are  not  seen.  And  tbis  new 
birtb  is  to  be  sougbt  by  prayer  and  by  tbe  diligent 
use  of  all  tbe  means  of  grace  witb  wbicb  God  bas 
favored  us,  not  forgetting  as  cbief  and  foremost 
among  tbese,  tbe  study  of  divine  revelation.  Tbougb 
tbe  natural  man  comprebendetb  not  tbe  tbings  of 
tbe  Spirit,  yet  tbe  outward  forms  of  trutb,  witb 
sucb  glimpses  of  tbeir  interior  meaning  as  be  can 
gain,  are  not  witbout  tbeir  value.  Tbere  is  a  reality 
and  power  in  tbe  teachings  of  tbe  Bible,  addressed 
to  tbe  natural  conscience  witb  tbe  authority  of 
"  thus  saith  tbe  Lord,"  wbicb  tend  to  scatter  the 
visions  of  tbat  vain  and  deceitful  show  which  exists 
only  in  tbe  deluded  imagination,  yet  from  which 
sin  draws  its  cbief  enticements.  Any  man  who  will 
give  himself  to  fervent  prayer  and  tbe  earnest  study 
of  God's  holy  word,  has  every  reason  to  believe  tbat 


ALBEKT     E.      DOD,D.D.  153 

God  will  break  the  cliains  of  his  bondage,  and  scat- 
ter the  darkness  which  broods  over  him,  and  lead 
him  forth  to  walk  in  the  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God, 
and  exult  in  the  open  daylight  of  eternity. 

But  regeneration  is  only  the  commencement  of 
our  spiritual  life.  The  work  is  but  begun  which, 
in  dependence  upon  Di\4ne  Grace,  we  are  to  carry 
on  to  completion.  We  have  a  hard  struggle  to 
maintain  in  our  conflict  with  the  things  that  are 
seen  and  temporal ;  in  our  liability  to  be  overtaken 
by  erroneous  judgments,  arising  out  of  a  limited 
and  partial  view  of  our  condition,  and  thus  to  be 
surprised  into  a  forgetfulness  of  our  deliberate  con- 
victions. We  can  guard  against  this  danger  only 
by  looking  steadfastly  at  the  things  that  are  not 
seen.  The  more  we  contemplate  them,  the  more 
will  we  understand  of  their  nature  and  value,  the 
firmer  will  become  our  belief  in  them,  and  the  more 
influence  will  they  exert  in  the  control  of  our  feel- 
ings and  conduct.  Faith  cannot  go  beyond  know- 
ledge, and  the  life  cannot  be  stable  beyond  the 
power  of  faith.  If  our  comprehension  of  truth  is 
imperfect  or  erroneous,  in  like  degree  will  our  faith 
be  weak  and  fluctuating,  and  our  walk  uncertain 
and  inconsistent;'  and  our  knowledge  of  truth — 
taking  for  granted  the  continual  presence  in  the 
mind  of  a  sense  of  dependence  upon  God,  which 
will  be  manifested  in  prayer  for  di\ane  aid,  and  a 
right  state  of  the  affections,  without  which  we  can 
learn  nothing — will  be  in  proportion  to  the  degree 
in  which  we  devote  ourselves  to  the  earnest  con- 
templation of  the  things  that  are  not  seen. 
11 


15-i  THE     PEINCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

How  many  Cliristians  are  tliere  wlio  have  never 
yet  23ondered  tliese  things  sufficiently  to  enable 
them  to  see  them,  except  with  such  dimness  and 
distortion  that  they  walk  with  timid  and  halting 
step — they  fight  uncertainly,  as  one  beating  the 
air !  How  many  who  understand  so  little  of  the 
true  nature  of  the  things  that  are  seen,  that  they 
look  upon  wealth,  elevated  station,  and  worldly 
pleasure  as  good  and  desirable  possessions  in  them- 
selves, not  knowing,  or  forgetting,  that  every  view 
of  these  things  which  does  not  take  in  their  relation 
to  eternal  realities,  is  nothing  more  than  a  delusive 
trick  of  the  imagination. 

How  many  whose  formal  faith  is  correct,  but 
whose  real  belief,  as  proved  by  the  main  current  of 
their  feelings,  and  the  ordinary  tenor  of  their  walk 
and  conversation,  attaches  a  degree  of  magnitude 
and  interest  to  worldly  things,  that  is  altogether 
inconsistent  with  their  just  appreciation ! 

We  cannot  doubt  that  there  are  many  Christians 
who  separate  between  the  material  and  the  spiritual 
world,  for  the  purpose  of  attributing  to  each  a 
kind  of  distinct  and  independent  existence,  each 
containing  its  own  treasures  and  furnishing  its  own 
motives  to  action.  On  the  one  side  lies  this  world, 
governed  by  invariable  laws,  and,  to  their  view, 
complete  in  itself;  and,  therefore,  fitly  entered  upon 
and  pursued  with  principles  and  dispositions  that 
have  their  origin  and  their  end  within  its  bounda- 
ries. And,  on  the  other  hand,  they  believe  in  a 
spiritual  world,  not  encircling  and  absorbing  this, 
but  existing  separate  and  remote  from  it,  and  touch- 


ALBEIIT     B.     DOl),    D.D.  155 

ing  upon  tlie  present  order  of  things  only  at  parti- 
cular points,  and  by  anomalons  interpositions. 
Hence  worldly  affairs  are  one  tiling,  and  religion 
quite  a  different  one.  Each  stands  by  itself.  The 
spiritual  system,  instead  of  interposing  itself  en- 
tirely through  the  objects  and  interests  of  the  pre- 
sent state,  is  seen  in  connection  with  them  only  on 
special  occasions.  It  is  a  thing  of  Sabbaths,  of 
divine  worship,  of  the  formal  discharge  of  religions 
duties,  of  seasons  of  deep  affliction,  or  of  such  other 
particular  exigencies  as  seem  to  call  for  the  decen- 
cies and  consolations  which  belono^  to  it.  It  is  this 
meagre  knowledge,  and,  of  course,  weak  faith, 
which  produces  that  kind  of  religion  which  permits 
men  to  press  forward  on  the  busy  paths  of  this 
world,  with  as  much  bustling  and  earnest  anxiety 
as  if  all  their  treasures  were  to  be  found  here,  and 
which  brings  the  things  of  another  world  to  bear 
upon  them  only  with  sufficient  distinctness  and 
force  to  overcloud  their  hours  of  reflection,  and  lay 
upon  them  the  occasional  sorrows  of  repentance. 

Our  religion  cannot  but  partake  very  much 
of  this  character,  unless  we  reflect  much  upon 
divine  truth.  It  is  no  doubt  true  that  the  spiritual 
world  encompasses  us  on  every  side,  so  that  if  our 
souls  should  now  escape  from  our  bodies,  like  the 
bird  breaking  through  the  shell  which  had  shut  it 
in,  we  should  at  once  find  ourselves  breathing  the 
air  of  immortality,  and  looking  upon  the  face  of 
God.  It  is  true  that  every  object  here  can  be  pro- 
perly defined  or  understood  only  through  its  rela- 
tion to  our  spiritual  interests.     It  is  true  that  the 


156  THE     PPwINCETOTT     PULPIT. 

sound  and  din  of  worldly  things,  tlie  glare  and 
pomp  in  wliicli  they  flash  before  us,  are  but  the 
unrealities  of  a  distempered  imagination.  But  how 
can  we  attain  the  conviction  of  these  truths  in  any 
other  way  than  by  frequent  reflection  upon  them  ? 
The  great  interests  and  permanent  realities  by 
which  we  ought  to  be  actuated,  are  not  visibly  and 
tangibly  present  to  us  like  the  scenes  of  our  pass- 
ing life,  and  we  have  no  other  means  of  making 
them  present  than  by  deliberate,  oft-repeated  re- 
flection upon  them. 

No  man  can  pursue  any  great  interest  in  which 
important  consequences  are  at  stake,  without  a 
profound  and  thoughtful  intentness  of  mind  upon 
his  end,  and  upon  the  means  by  which  he  is  seek- 
ing to  attain  it.  How  especially  true  must  this  be 
in  regard  to  the  great  interests  of  religion  and 
eternity !  How  can  we  hope,  amid  the  entangle- 
ments and  difficulties  that  beset  us,  to  make  any 
real  progress  in  the  establishment  of  a  character 
fashioned  after  the  ideas  and  laws  of  an  unseen 
world,  without  a  fixed  and  habitual  thoughtfulness 
— a  thoughtfulness  that  will  never  permit  us  to 
forget,  for  any  length  of  time,  our  true  position,  or 
to  lose  the  consciousness  of  our  relation  to  more 
glorious  beings,  and  higher  interests,  than  are  to  be 
found  upon  the  earth.  This  must  be  our  habit, — 
something  more  than  an  occasional  musing  and 
reverie,  at  set  times,  when  we  force  ourselves  to  the 
task.  It  must  be  the  uniform  condition  of  the 
mind.  Through  the  prevalence  of  such  a  pre- 
dominant habit  of  thoughtful  attention  to  divine 


ALBERT     B.     DOD,    D.D.  157 

tilings,  we  may  acquire  a  paramount  interest  in  the 
truth,  and  incorporate  it  into  tlie  frame  and  con- 
stitution of  our  souls  ;  so  tliat  while  we  are  eulare- 
mg  our  apprehension  of  God,  his  providence,  and 
his  purposes,  we  shall  at  the  same  time  so  work  our 
conceptions  into  the  substance  of  our  intellectual 
constitution,  as  to  make  them  the  very  medium  of 
our  vision,  the  pervading  and  actuating  motives  of 
our  lives.  Eeligion  will  thus  become  to  us  the 
one  present  thought,  motive,  and  impulse — the  one 
great  light  by  the  reflection  of  which  all  things 
will  be  seen  and  judged.  Then  will  our  tempta- 
tions be  conquered  in  the  strength  of  that  faith 
which  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen.  Then  will  our  repin- 
ings  of  heart,  under  the  hardships  and  losses  to 
which  we  are  here  exposed,  be  exchanged  for  joy 
in  view  of  our  coming  glory.  Then,  when  envi- 
roned with  difficulties  and  dangers  which  hem 
us  in  on  every  side,  instead  of  crying  out,  with 
the  servant  of  the  prophet,  "  Alas !  my  Master ! 
what  shall  we  do?"  our  eyes  will  be  opened 
to  see  the  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  that  are 
about  us,  and  we  shall  feel  secure  in  the  per- 
suasion that  they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than 
they  that  be  against  us.  Then  shall  we  feel  that 
we  are  running  our  race,  not  obscurely,  but  com- 
passed about  with  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses, — 
by  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  and  martyrs  ;  by 
all  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect ;  by  the 
dear  friends  who  have  gone  before  us  to  heaven  ; 
by  angels,  principalities,  and  powers ;  and,  above 


158  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

all,  by  the  great  Captain  of  our  salvation,  wlio  was 
himself  made  perfect,  through  sufferings,  and  who 
is  ever  near  to  encourage  and  to  help  us.  Then 
shall  we  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  that 
doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and  run  witli  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us,  looking  unto  Jesus  the  Author 
and  Finisher  of  our  faith,  who,  for  the  joy  that  was 
set  before  him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  the 
shame,  and  is  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
throne  of  God.  Heaven,  which  we  are  too  much 
disposed  to  throw  far  off,  will  then  draw  nigh  us 
and  lie  around  us,  and  come  into  contact  with  the 
affairs  and  feelings  of  every  day,  and  give  us  songs 
in  the  nisrht,  and  lisfht  in  the  hour  of  darkness,  and 
rob  us  of  our  sorrows  by  putting  us  in  possession 
of  its  joys. 

Brethren,  these  things  are  not  pictures:  I  be- 
lieve, in  my  soul,  that  they  are  realities — that  they 
are  the  only  abiding  realities  ;  and,  what  is  infinitely 
more  important  than  my  belief  or  any  other  man's, 
God,  with  whom  alone  is  certain  knowledge — who 
is  himself,  in  his  self-subsistence  and  eternity,  the 
only  permanent  basis  of  reality — has  revealed  them 
to  us  as  the  only  certainties  to  which  we  can  trust. 
Nothing  else  possesses  the  worth  which  it  seems  to 
have,  and  all  things  else  are  unstable  and  frail. 
Wealth  takes  to  itself  wings  and  flies  away  ;  popu- 
lar applause  depends  upon  popular  caprice ;  the 
pleasures  of  domestic  affection  lie  at  the  mercy  of 
death ;  all  things  visible  change  while  we  are  look- 
ing upon  them,  and  we  ourselves  are  passing  away 
— "  Man  dieth  and  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the 


ALBERT     B.     DOD,    D.D.  159 

mourners  go  about  the  streets ;"  whole  generations 
of  men  sweep  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  like  the 
shadow  of  the  fast-sailing  cloud  flying  over  the 
plain ;  the  earth  itself  and  the  heavens,  so  real  and 
solid  seeming,  are  growing  old,  and  shall  soon  reel 
to  and  fro  like  a  drunkard,  and  he  utterly  broken 
down  and  clean  dissolved.  But  throu^ch  all  these 
commotions  and  changes  among  the  things  that  are 
seen — the  surging,  ever-shifting  phenomena  of  time 
and  sense ;  through  the  fires  of  the  last  day,  the 
things  that  are  unseen  pass  unchanged,  and  there 
they  stand  upon  the  high  table-land  of  eternity,  like 
him  who  is  himself  their  sum  and  substance,  with- 
out variableness  or  shadow  of  turning,  "  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever." 

Blessed,  thrice  blessed  are  they  who  are  now 
steadfastly  looking  at  these  things.  How  much,  on 
the  contrary,  are  they  to  be  pitied  who  are  living 
only  for  the  things  that  are  seen,  unmindful  of  the 
destruction  that  lieth  in  wait  for  them  !  Pilo-rims 
of  the  earth !  heirs  of  immortality !  can  ye  not  be 
made  to  see  that  ye  are  spending  your  strength  for 
that  which  is  not  bread,  and  laboring  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not  ?  Oh,  that  ye  could  gain  somewhat 
of  that  view  mth  which  ye  will  look  back  from  be- 
yond the  vail,  upon  these  transitory  scenes  that  now 
fix  your  chief  regard !  Oh,  how  will  ye  then  curse 
that  gold  and  honour,  and  sinful  pleasure,  of  which 
there  will  then  remain  only  the  memory  to  eat  like 
fire  into  the  soul ! 

Yes,  Christian  brethren,  though  ye  can  now  see 
only  as  through  a  glass  darkly,  yet  these  imperfect 


160  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

glimpses  of  eternal  tilings  are  more  worth  to  you 
than  all  beside.  The  visions,  in  which  the  mystic 
ladder  is  set  from  earth  to  heaven,  comprise  the 
real  truths  of  our  condition ;  and  its  dreamy  illu- 
sions are  the  trusted  views  of  its  waking  sense.  Let 
us  labor,  then,  with  due  diligence  and  prayer,  with 
much  inward  reflection  and  study  of  God's  holy 
word,  that  we  may  ever  keep  this  world  before  our 
minds  in  its  just  relation  to  the  world  to  come ;  and 
if  prone  to  murmur  under  the  meagreness  of  our 
knowledge  and  the  weakness  of  our  faith,  let  our 
conscious  sense  of  disparity  between  the  possibili- 
ties and  the  actual  achievements  of  our  lot  lead  us 
to  look  forward  to  the  grave  as  the  portal  through 
which  we  are  to  pass  from  this  outward  vestibule 
through  the  inner  veil,  where  we  shall  look,  with 
the  open  intuition  of  a  free  spirit,  upon  that  glory 
which  now  only  dimly  reveals  itself  to  us  through 
the  opaque  symbols  by  which  we  are  here  sur- 
rounded. Towards  that  day,  which  is  to  succeed 
the  long  night  of  our  restless,  feverish  tossings,  let 
us  bend  and  look  forward,'  like  those  that  watch 
for  the  morning.  Blessed  day !  when  we  shall  see 
as  we  are  seen,  and  know  as  we  are  known ! 


THE    CHRISTIAN    PHILOSOPHY   OF   REVOLUTION. 


THE  REV.  M.  B.  HOPE,  D.D., 

PB0FE8S0E  OF  KlIETORIC. 


"  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God  ;  remove  the  diadem  and  take  off  the  crown  : 
this  shall  not  be  the  same :  exalt  him  that  is  low,  and  abase  him  that  is 
high.  I  will  overturn,  overturn,  overturn  it :  and  it  shall  be  no  more, 
until  he  come  whose  right  it  is  ;  and  I  will  give  it  him."— Ezek.  xxi :  26,  27. 

The  true  pliilosopliical  history  of  man,  is  tliat 
wliicli  reveals  to  us  tlie  causes  and  progress,  first, 
of  his  depravity  and  deterioration  ;  and  secondly,  of 
his  return  towards  that  state  of  holiness  and  hap- 
piness which  he  is  destined,  in  the  purpose  of  God, 
and  through  the  agency  of  the  gospel,  again  to  at- 
tain. Such  a  history  is  yet  to  be  written.  The 
attempts  to  evolve  the  philosophy  of  history,  have 
been,  for  the  most  part,  vitiated,  by  the  assump- 
aon,  derived  from  the  pagan  classics,  that  the  civi- 
lization of  the  human  race  began  in  a  condition  of 
the  lowest  barbarism.  There  never  was  a  more 
superficial  or  unfounded  hypothesis,  than  that 
which  ascribes  the  evolutions  of  human  history,  to 
a  law  of  progressive  development,  inherent  in  the 


162  THE      PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

human  constitution.  No  plausible  foundation  for 
such  a  law  can  be  found,  except  by  an  induction  of 
facts,  the  most  partial  and  inconclusive.  In  any 
complete  survey  of  history,  the  facts  which  contra- 
dict such  a  law,  are  quite  as  numerous  as  those 
which  support  it.  The  great  majority  of  the  hu- 
man race  at  any  given  time  has  been  clearly  either 
retrogradiug,  or  else  stationary  ;  while  the  progres- 
sive portion  has  been  the  merest  fraction  of  the 
whole.  And,  farther,  the  progressive  feature  of 
that  portioD,  has  always  been  due,  not  to  a  blind, 
inherent  law,  but  to  some  external  agency,  actiug 
upon  it  from  without,  and  in  accordance  with  a 
plan  extrinsic  to  itself  If  the  actual  historic  pro- 
gress of  the  race  were  due  to  an  intrinsic  law,  it 
ought,  like  all  the  laws  of  nature,  to  be  constant  in 
its  tendencies,  and  uniform  in  its  results.  What 
then,  it  may  be  asked,  becomes  of  this  law  of  de- 
velopment, in  the  case  of  the  Greeks  since  the  days 
of  Alexander,  of  the  Romans  since  the  time  of  Au- 
gustus, or  of  the  Spaniards  since  the  days  of  Ferdi- 
nand. 

It  is  notorious,  that  so  far  from  this  assumed  law 
of  progress  being  the  true  expression  of  the  facts 
the  progression  which  the  history  of  the  race  exhi- 
bits, has  been  in  cycles,  and  not  in  straight  lines. 
In  accordance  with  the  principle  announced  by  the 
prophet  of  Jehovah  to  the  profane  and  wicked 
Prince  of  Israel,  it  has  been  a  process  of  revolution 
and  not  of  development.  It  involves  the  law  of  de- 
clension and  decay,  as  much  as  that  of  quickening 
and  growth.     It  is  a  vital,  not  a  mechanical, — a 


M.     B.      HOPE,     D.D.  163 

moral,  not  a  ])liysical,  process.  It  proceeds  upon  a 
plan  indeed  ;  but  it  is  a  plan  exterior  to  the  great 
collective  mind  of  humanity.  It  is  a  development 
in  tlie  scheme  of  Divine  Providence,  with  reference 
to  the  destiny  of  man ;  and  not  the  mere  unfolding 
of  caj^abilities  inherent  in  unaided  human  nature. 

It  is  imj^ossible  to  comprehend  aright  the  nature 
of  that  plan  of  human  affairs,  which  it  is  the  pro- 
vince of  history  to  reveal,  without  a  just  apprehen- 
sion of  the  moral  truths  which  it  involves,  and  on 
which  it  proceeds. 

And  in  the  first  place,  the  origin  of  the  human 
race  was  not  from  a  state  of  barbarism,  but  one  of 
absolute  perfection  ;  and  the  first  change  which 
passed  upon  human  nature,  was  that  by  which  it 
fell  into  degeneracy,  by  reason  of  temptation  from 
without.  Social  hap2:)iness  was  blighted  and  per- 
ished in  the  bud.  The  very  first  offspring  of  the 
social  state,  instead  of  love,  sympathy,  and  mutual 
support,  were,  first,  envy,  then  hatred,  and  lastly 
murder.  Alienation  and  division,  thus  became  at 
once,  the  universal  law  of  society.  And  it  is  eYi- 
dent  the  race  must  have  soon  become  extinct,  or 
else  2")roduced  a  terrestrial  pandemonium,  if  God 
had  not  determined  to  redeem  it ;  and  applied  the 
antidote  to  check,  at  least  in  part,  the  fatal  work- 
ings of  the  poison. 

From  the  moment  of  the  announcement  of  that 
determination,  began  the  great  conflict  of  hu- 
manity,— the  conflict  between  the  two  principles 
of  sin  and  grace :  the  universal  prevalence  of  the 
one  tending  to  corrupt  and  ruin  the  race,  the  other, 


164  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

under  tlie  special  agency  of  God  himself,  struggling 
and  destined  to  purify  and  redeem  it.  The  his- 
tory of  this  conflict,  is  the  true  history  of  man.  It 
is  not  the  rise  and  fall  of  nations, — it  is  not  the 
growth  and  decay  of  institutions,  domestic,  social  or 
political, — it  is  not  the  arts  of  war  or  peace  ; — it  is 
the  inward  life  of  the  race, — the  changes  in  human 
nature,  which  all  these  indicate,  from  holiness  to 
sin,  and  from  sin  to  holiness, — it  is  the  restoration 
of  humanity  to  the  image  and  favour  of  God,  and 
the  wonderful  developments  of  God's  pro\4dence 
to  accomplish  this  result,  in  the  different  nations, 
ages  and  dispensations  of  history,  that  the  Chris- 
tian philosopher  regards  with  most  absorbing  in- 
terest, and  seeks  to  disengage  from  the  tangled  plot 
of  human  events. 

Our  limits  and  our  special  aim,  forbid  us  to  enter 
into  any  particular  illustration,  or  proof,  of  the 
leading  principles  we  propose  to  aj^ply  to  the  solu- 
tion of  the  startling  events  of  our  age.  We  must 
be  content  with  their  simple  statement ;  leaving  it 
to  the  knowledge  of  om-  hearers,  to  confirm  or  to  set 
them  aside. 

And  in  the  first  place,  the  earliest  ages  of  the 
world  after  the  fall,  when  the  light  of  revealed 
truth  was  dimmest,  and  th^  reign  of  grace  most  fee- 
ble, were  marked  by  a  rapid  degeneration,  physi- 
cal, intellectual,  and  moral,  in  the  nature,  the  char- 
acter, and  the  condition  of  man.  The  poison  of  sin 
worked,  till  it  shortened  human  life  from  almost  a 
thousand  years,  to  three  score  and  ten, — till  the 
perception  of  truth  was  almost  extinguished,  and 


31.      B.      HOPE,    D.D.  165 

men,  even  the  most  civilized  and  enlightened,  be- 
came debased  enough  to  humble  themselves  in  reli- 
gious worship,  before  beasts  and  creeping  things ; 
and  until  their  moral  nature  was  so  corrupted,  that 
virtue  and  religion  were  preserved  alive  upon  the 
earth,  only  by  the  special  interposition  of  God  him- 
self.    Twice,  in  different  forms,  was  this  expedient 
resorted  to, — thus  making  and  closing  respectively 
two  great  epochs  of  history : — first,  in  the  selection 
and  divine  preservation  of  the  single  family  of 
Noah  ;  and,  secondly,  when  the  rej)eopled  earth 
had  lapsed  into  universal  corruption  and  idolatry, 
by  selecting  a  faithful  branch  from  the  dominant 
race  of  the  age,  and  organizing  it  under  theocratic 
institutions,  subject  to  his  own  immediate  control. 
This  single  nation  which  was  destined  to  multiply 
into  a  great  and  powerful  people,  and  isolated  from 
the  other  divisions  of  the  race,  was  to  serve  as  the 
depository  of  truth  and  religion,  while  the  work 
of  overturning  and  overturning  went  on  among 
the  other  nations  of  the  earth,  until  he  should 
come,  whose  right  it  was  to  assume  the  sceptre,  and 
found  upon  their  ruins  a  dispensation,  which  shall 
terminate  these  countless  overturnings,  by  the  re- 
demption of  the  world  ;  and  thus  consummate  the 
perfection  of  humanity  on  earth,  and  blend  with  it 
the  glory  of  the  God  of  Providence  and  grace. 

In  the  second  place,  when  the  power  of  sin  was 
checked  by  larger  gifts  of  gracious  influence,  the 
power  of  divine  truth  became  diffusive,  and  entered 
upon  its  aggressive  work,  in  the  achievement  of 
man's  regeneration  ;  and  has  continued  to  the  pre- 


166  THE     PEIXCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

sent  liour,  progressive :  and  judging  from  tlie  his- 
tory of  tlie  past,  and  tlie  cliaracteristics  of  the 
present,  as  well  as  the  jiroplietic  delineation  of  the 
future,  it  will  continue  steadily  progressive,  till  its 
final  and  perfect  consummation. 

By  man's  regeneration  we  mean  his  entire  and 
complete  regeneration,  moral  and  intellectual,  indi- 
vidual and  social.  The  proofs  of  his  past  progress 
in  all  these  respects,  are  as  numerous  as  the  inci- 
dents which  make  up  his  history.  And  yet  it  is 
ol)\aous  that  no  form  of  civilization  yet  reached, 
even  by  the  most  favoured  nations  of  Christendom, 
can  be  accepted  as  even  an  approximate  embodi- 
ment of  that  stage  of  human  perfection  which  the 
race  is  destined  to  reach.  Pervading  and  compre- 
hensive as  the  historical  agencies  of  the  past  have 
been,  it  is  clear  they  are  destined  to  be  vastly  more 
pervading  and  comprehensive  still,  before  the 
period  can  arrive,  when  the  Apocalyptic  angel 
shall  proclaim  that  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
have  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his 
Christ. 

In  the  third  place,  the  great  agent  by  which  this 
progress  has  been  carried  forward,  is  that  of  revo- 
lution, or  that  of  overturning,  overturning,  over- 
turning, till  he  shall  come  whose  right  it  is  to  wear 
the  crown  of  universal  dominion,  amidst  the  re- 
deemed race  of  man. 

In  any  comprehensive  survey  of  the  subject,  the 
central  epoch  of  human  history,  is  the  advent  of 
the  Son  of  God.  Everything  anterior  to  that 
event,  pointed  to  the  incarnation  as  embracing  the 


M.      B.      HOPE,    D.  D.  1G7 

fulness  of  its  significancy,  and  every  thing  subse- 
quent derives  its  vitality  and  power  from  the  same 
source.  The  revolutionary  incidents  of  the  ages 
preceding,  had  for  their  function  to  pre2:)are  the 
world  for  the  coming  of  Christ ;  those  succeeding, 
are  charged  with  the  business  of  consummating  the 
great  object  which  brought  the  Son  of  God  into 
the  world,  as  the  source  and  head  of  a  new  spiritual 
seed,  that  will  ultimately  absorb  in  its  ever  widen- 
ing sweep,  the  entire  and  ransomed  races  of  Adam. 

However  difficult  it  may  be  to  trace,  with  philo- 
sophic accuracy,  the  precise  relations  of  the  great 
master  epochs  of  the  early  periods  of  history,  there 
can  no  longer  be  a  doubt  of  their  reality.  To  the 
eye  of  the  Christian,  and  in  the  light  of  the  Bible, 
those  vast  and  sublime  overturnings  which  reared 
and  overthrew,  successively,  the  gigantic  empires 
of  Egypt,  Assyria,  Persia,  and  Macedon,  to  say 
nothing  of  countless  smaller  states,  which  concen- 
trated the  intellect,  the  genius  and  the  cultivation 
of  the  world  in  the  States  of  Greece,  and  finally 
enthroned  Rome  as  sole  mistress  of  the  earth,  these 
all  appear  as  mighty  and  indispensable  agencies, 
commissioned  of  God,  to  produce  that  mental  cul- 
ture that  feeling  of  strong  unsatisfied  religious 
want,  and  that  state  of  universal  peace,  which  were 
essential  to  prepare  the  world  for  the  advent  of  the 
Son  of  God. 

The  progress  of  the  race  to  this  result,  w^as  not 
by  steady,  uninterrupted  marches  ;  it  has  not  been 
the  mere  evolution  of  a  subjective  law  of  progres- 
sion :  it  has  been  by  a  succession  of  overturnings, 


168  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

in  whicli  one  nation  after  another  has  been  throTVTi 
into  the  ascendant,  for  the  obvious  purpose,  in  each 
case,  of  working  out  some  great  problem  of  human 
welfare,  or  carrying  to  its  utmost  height,  some  sin- 
gle branch  of  human  culture.  Thus  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  prevailing  school  of  historical  philoso- 
phers, the  dispensation  of  the  Greeks  was  the 
aesthetic  culture  of  humanity.  No  age  of  human 
improvement  ever  has  excelled,  or  ever  will  excel, 
the  arts  of  Greece.  Even  their  philosophy  and 
their  morality  were  drawn  from  the  same  source,  in 
the  sensibilities  of  the  soul,  instead  of  being 
founded  upon  the  objective  truths  of  any  divine 
revelation.  They  have  settled  the  point  for  all 
coming  time,  that  art  however  lofty  and  spiritual, 
cannot  answer  the  ends,  or  take  the  place  of  reli- 
gion as  the  true  ulterior  object  of  individual  cul- 
ture and  still  less  as  the  life  principle  of  a  perma- 
nent or  universal  civilization. 

So  Rome  was  commissioned  to  work  out  a  system 
of  jurisprudence  and  muncipal  law,  for  the  human 
race ;  to  conquer  the  barbarism  of  the  world,  and 
then  to  clothe  its  naked  forms  with  the  institutions 
of  an  intellectual  civilization.  Her  mission  was  to 
prepare  the  world  for  the  incarnation  of  the  Son 
of  God,  who  was  to  found  upon  the  boundless  do- 
main of  her  vast  and  peaceful  empire,  the  glorious 
temple  of  Christian  truth  and  Christian  worship. 
And  now  in  like  manner  we  believe  the  peculiar 
dispensation  of  the  age,  and  specifically  of  the  race 
to  which  we  belong,  is  to  leaven  the  philosophy, 
the  literature,  the  morality,  and  the  civil  and  poli- 


M.      B.      HOPE,     D.D.  1G9 

tical  institutious  of  the  world,  witli  the  reli^rion  of 
the  Bible,  and  then  carry  their  elevating  purifying 
influence  throughout  the  earth. 

This  is  the  last  of  the  great  dispensations  of  the 
world's  progressive  history.  The  true  and  final  civil- 
ization of  the  race,  as  statesmen  and  philosophers 
delight  to  call  it,  is  just  that  which  owes  to  Chris- 
tianity both  the  life  of  its  being,  and  the  law  of  its 
forms.  Much  as  politicians  may  overlook  or  deride 
the  notion,  it  is  true  that  the  only  form  of  civiliza- 
tion capable  of  embracing  the  whole  human  fam- 
ily,— the  only  form  that  ever  can  become  universal, 
— ^is  that  which  owes  its  being  and  its  power,  to  the 
gospel.  The  ci\'ilization  of  Greece  was  incomplete 
and  local,  that  of  Eome  was  temporary  and  sub- 
servient to  ulterior  purposes.  "We  repeat,  the  only 
true  civilization,  capable  of  combining  and  enlight- 
ening, of  purifying  and  elevating  the  race  of  man, 
is  Christianity  itself.  This  is  the  divine  principle  of 
human  civilization.  It  w^as  designed  for  the  whole 
family  of  man ;  and  it  will  therefore  embrace  the 
whole.  It  will  absorb  and  incorj)orate  all  that  is 
true  and  noble  in  the  art  and  literature  of  Greece, 
the  legislation  and  jurisprudence  of  Rome,  the 
freedom  and  the  industrial,  economic,  and  commer- 
cial enterprise  of  the  Teutonic  races, — all  that  is 
beautiful,  and  true,  atid  good,  and  great;  and 
founding  the  structure  upon  the  di\dne  atonement 
of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  only  relief  from  the  conscious 
crushing  guilt  of  the  human  bosom,  and  the  renew- 
ing and  sanctifjang  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  as 
the  only  possible  source  of  its  regeneration  and 
12 


170     THE  PRINCETON  PULPIT. 

purification,  it  will  stand  forth,  like  tlie  New  Jeru- 
salem of  tlie  Prophetic  Scriptures  resplendent  in 
tlie  liglit  of  heaven,  the  sanctuary  and  the  home 
of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

The  process  we  have  indicated  is  going  on  with 
ever-increasing  velocity:  and  in  our  day  its  ele- 
ments are  driven  under  impulses  of  almost  fearful 
impetuosity.  Changes  are  passing  upon  the  inter- 
nal policy  and  the  outward  face  of  nations,  with  a 
rapidity  as  much  greater  than  those  of  the  early 
ages  of  history,  as  the  modes  of  locomotion,  and  the 
intercourse  of  the  world,  have  been  improved,  by 
the  agencies  of  steam  and  magnetic  electricity.  The 
progress  of  human  events  toward  their  ultimate 
goal,  like  some  mighty  mass  acted  upon  by  a  con- 
stant mechanical  force,  is  ever  accelerating  as  it  ad- 
vances. This  is  pre-eminently  true  of  the  very 
point  of  time  now  passing.  The  plot  thickens. 
Events  crowd  with  ever-accumulating  momentum 
toward  the  appointed  end. 

The  application  of  these  principles  toward  the 
solution  of  the  recent  revolutionary  and  reactionary 
movements  of  the  world,  in  the  present  chaotic 
period  of  its  history,  opens  a  topic  of  great  interest, 
by  no  means  free  of  difficulty.  If  the  claims  we 
have  set  up  for  Christianity,  as  the  great  agent  of 
human  enfranchisement,  and  social  elevation  and 
progress,  are  well  founded,  it  may  be  asked  how  it 
comes  that  all  the  Christian  governments  in  the  old 
world,  are  absolute  and  despotic,  both  in  form  and 
in  fact.  To  reply  to  this  inquiry  intelligently,  we 
must  recall  the  circumstances  under  which  Chris- 


M.     B.     HOPE,     D.D.  1*71 

tianity  entered  upon  its  work  of  human  redemp- 
tion. It  will  be  remembered  tliat  it  found  the 
world  under  the  dominion  of  despotism,  temporarily- 
enthroned  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  the  peace,  in 
expectation  of  its  legitimate  ruler.  It  is  easy  to 
see,  therefore,  how  the  declaration  of  the  great 
founder  of  Christianity  was  necessarily  to  be  fulfil- 
led ; — that  he  came  not  to  send  peace  on  the  earth, 
but  a  sword.  The  dominion  usurped  and  tacitly 
conceded  to  absolute  power,  must  first  be  dispos- 
sessed of  its  unnatural  authority,  before  Christianity 
could  fulfill  its  mission  of  social  enfranchisement. 
It  could  not  effect  its  object  in  behalf  of  the  race, 
without  diffusing  abroad  that  enlightenment  and 
moral  virtue,  which  are  incompatible  with  the  per- 
sistent reign  of  civil  despotism.  The  instantaneous 
result,  therefore,  of  its  entrance  upon  its  assigned 
work  of  personal  regeneration  and  enfranchisement, 
was  just  what  its  author  declared  it  would  be,  and 
just  what  the  past  and  current  history  of  the  world 
shows  that  it  must  be, — a  steady  conflict  with  the 
dominant  passions  of  the  human  bosom,  as  concen- 
trated into  the  various  forms  of  despotic  govern- 
ment. Wherever,  in  its  early  resistless  march,  it 
invaded  the  kingdom  of  darkness  and  tp-anny,  it 
awakened  hostility  and  drew  on  a  conflict ;  because 
it  stood  in  natural  and  necessary  antagonism  with 
these  vices  of  human  society, — just  as  light  is  in 
natural  antaijonism  with  darkness.  And  as  the 
universal  establishment  of  Christian  liberty,  found- 
ed on  the  universal  prevalence  of  truth  and  holiness, 
was  the  very  end  of  all  history,  and  as  its  triumph 


1T2  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

was  predetermined  in  the  original  plan  of  tlie  moral 
ruler  of  the  world,  it  followed  that  the  general 
conflict  in  which  Christianity  became  involved  with 
the  absolute  governments  of  the  world,  must  ul- 
timately lead  to  their  overthrow ;  and  thus  con- 
summate again  the  great  principle  of  the  text, — 
overturning  and  overturning,  with  a  view  to  the 
final  establishment  of  that  kingdom,  which  alone 
could  be  perpetual,  because  it  alone  was  consistent 
with  the  complete  enfranchisement,  and  the  highest 
interest  of  man. 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  repugnance  and  in- 
tolerance, which  the  absolute  governments  of  the 
world  have  always  manifested  toward  evangelical 
Christianity,  is  founded  on  a  blind,  but  unerring  in- 
stinct. Christianity  and  despotism  cannot  co-exist ; 
because  Christianity  not  only  inculcates,  but  actu- 
ally introduces  the  highest  form  of  human  freedom, 
in  that  liberty  wherewith  Christ  makes  his  people 
free.  And  it  is  equally  plain,  that  where  the  peo- 
ple are  not  only  awakened  to  the  intimate  con- 
sciousness of  their  right  to  be  free,  but  actually 
invested  with  that  right,  by  the  authority  of  God 
himself,  and  at  the  same  time  are  made  adequately 
aware  of  their  power  as  well  as  their  rights,  there 
is  no  domination  on  earth  or  in  hell,  that  can  hold 
them  in  bondage.  Where  is  the  tyrant  who  could 
hold  a  nation  of  Luthers  under  the  yoke  of  civil 
despotism  ? 

But  it  may  be  objected  to  this  reasoning,  in 
favor  of  the  essential  enfranchising  tendencies  of 
the  Gospel,  that  Christianity  was  the  religion  of 


M.     B.     HOPE,     D.D.  173 

Rome  in  the  days  of  its  darkest  tyranny,  and  con- 
tinues to  be  the  religion  of  the  despotic  govern- 
ments of  modern  Europe. 

We  acknowledge  the  fairness  of  the  objection ; 
and  accept  the  challenge  to  reconcile  the  historical 
fact,  with  the  claims  we  have  been  making  in  be- 
half of  Christianity  ; — and  all  the  more  readily,  be- 
cause the  principles  involved  are  absolutely  vital  to 
the  prosperous  issue  of  the  present  exciting  revolu- 
tionary period  of  history. 

It  must  be  remembered,  then,  that  all  stable  and 
efficient  government  requires  a  religious  support,  and 
cannot  be  administered  or  perpetuated,  except  by  the 
help  of  religious  sanctions.  When  Christianity  was 
deposited  in  the  bosom  of  human  society,  it  necessa- 
rily entered  into  reaction,  not  with  the  authority, 
but  the  abuses  of  existing  institutions.  Such  was 
the  light  it  shed  upon  those  dark  abuses,  and  such 
the  might  with  which  it  shook  the  hoary  pillars  of 
despotic  Rome,  and  spread  its  influence  through 
her  vast  domain,  that  it  soon  became  apparent  on 
which  side  the  victory  must  ultimately  declare. 
To  prevent  a  result  so  disastrous  to  herself,  and  for 
which  the  world  was  yet  unprepared,  the  govern- 
ment itself,  under  Constantine,  by  a  stroke  of  policy 
the  most  masterly  and  adroit,  set  itself  to  cement  a 
league  between  the  Church  and  the  State ;  and  thus 
avail  itself  for  its  own  aggrandizement,  of  the  power 
against  which  it  was  plainly  unable  to  cope  in  open 
hostility.  This  alliance  is  the  key  to  the  history  of 
the  middle  ages.  Christianity  was  simply  thrown 
into  the  heart  of  society,  as  a  personal  embodiment 


174  THE    PEIlSrCETON    PULPIT. 

of  the  divine  life,  wliicli  was  to  disentlirall  aud  re- 
deem mankind.  Before  it  was  in  a  condition  to 
acliieve  its  great  social  mission  for  tlie  race,  it  was 
necessary  that  it  should  grapple  with  all  the  forms 
of  belief  which  had  held  possession  of  the  human 
mind,  and  had  served  to  give  form  and  vitality  to 
the  existing  institutions  of  society.  A  process  like 
this  was  indispensable  to  bring  the  Christian  reli- 
gion into  broad  and  quickening  contact  with  all 
the  varied  forms  of  social  life.  It  had  been  reveal- 
ed as  a  princij^le  of  individual  belief,  and  of  per- 
sonal salvation.  But  it  could  not  stop  here.  A 
new  and  divine  life,  such  as  it  was  the  object  of  the 
gospel  to  impart,  could  not  fail  to  pervade  and 
leaven  every  element  of  human  society.  It  was 
destined  to  correct  the  errors  of  its  philosophy,  and 
mitigate,  and  ultimately  abolish,  the  rigors  and 
abuses  of  its  social  and  political  institutions.  To 
do  this,  it  was  necessary  that  it  should  be  cast  into 
the  established  formulas  of  human  thought,  and  in- 
corporated into  the  intellectual,  as  well  as  the  moral, 
life  of  the  I'ace.  So  that  a  revelation,  which  was 
primarily  the  element  of  personal  regeneration, 
and  individual  holiness, — and  as  such  existed  in  a 
form  already  complete,  and  incapable  of  develoj)- 
ment  in  the  teachings  of  Christ  and  his  apostles, — 
was  to  become  in  addition  the  living  principle  of 
the  intellectual,  the  social,  and  even  the  political 
institutions  of  the  world.  In  this  process,  Chris- 
tianity was  necessarily  to  be  transformed  from  a 
concrete  or  subjective  embodiment  of  living  Chris- 
tian truth  in  the  heart  and  life  of  its  disci23les,  into 


M.     B.      IIOTE,     D.D.  175 

ahstract  formulas  of  belief  and  of  practice ;  or  in 
other  words,  into  logical  creeds,  embracing  all  the 
points  of  doctrine  and  of  duty,  which  Avere  essen- 
tial to  the  complete  fulfillment  of  the  task  assigned 
it,  in  the  intellectual  and  civil,  as  well  as  personal 
regeneration  of  mankind."^ 

Now  it  was  j^recisely  this  preparatory  process 
of  intellectual  action  and  reaction,  of  sifting,  elimi- 
nation and  settlement,  applied  to  Christian  doctrine, 
which  constituted  the  distinctive  task  of  the  early 
and  middle  ages  of  the  Christian  history  of  the 
world  ;  v^%eii  the  intellect  of  Christendom  was  con- 
centrated in  the  monastic  schools  of  Europe,  and 
the  active,  logical,  and  metaphysical  discussions  of 
the  schoolmen  settled  what  was,  or  rather  was  not, 
the  true  faith  of  the  Church.  Such  was  the  char- 
acteristic and  invaluable  function  of  a  period  and 
a  class  of  men,  commonly  so  little  appreciated.  Tlie 
period  has  been  stigmatized  as  the  dark  ages  of 

*  It  is  hoped  the  tenor  and  spirit  of  this  discourse  will  make  it  sufficiently 
apparent  that  what  is  meant  in  the  text  is  widely  different  from  what  has 
been  so  often  expressed  in  nearly  analogous  language,  by  a  current  popular 
school  of  infidel  philosophers,  who  apply  the  favorite  dogma  of  develop- 
ment to  the  teachings  of  a  complete  and  closed  revelation.  Both  as  a  system 
of  doctrines  and  appliances  for  the  conversion  of  men,  and  as  a  rule  of  life  for 
their  guidance,  Christianity  was  completed  when  the  canon  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament was  closed.  But  it  is  obvious  that  the  relation  of  Christianity  to  an 
innumerable  multitude  of  questions,  in  the  social  and  political  life  of  the  race, 
could  be  ascertained  and  setded  only  by  a  long  process  of  comparison  and 
trial.  To  accomplish  this,  or  even  distinctly  to  conceive  and  propose  it, 
would  require,  as  we  have  expressed  it  above,  that  it  should  first  "be  cast 
into  the  established  formulas  of  human  thought,"  as  worked  out  in  the  con- 
sciousness, and  accumulated  in  the  experience,  of  successive  ages.  It  is  only 
in  this  sense  that  we  accept  the  doctrine  of  a  development  in  Christianity, 
viz.,  a  development  in  its  applications  to  the  complex  forms  of  human  well- 
being — a  development  that  is  parallel,  if  not  identical,  with  that  of  God's 
plan, as  unfolded  in  history,  for  the  final  redemption  of  the  human  race. 


176         THE  pki:n'ceton  pulpit. 

human  history,  and  they  were  dark  enough,  in  re- 
gard to  the  intellectual  and  social  degradation  of 
the  masses  of  the  people ;  but  we  should  not  forget 
that  it  was  in  the  womb  of  their  darkness  that  the 
hand  of  Providence  was  fashioning  the  germs  of 
those  truer  and  more  Christian  forms  of  social  and 
political  life,  which  it  is  the  province  of  modern 
history  to  evolve  into  the  highest  types  of  Christian 
civilization.  Preparatory  to  this  indispensable  pro- 
cess, and  while  it  was  still  going  on,  Christianity 
had  already,  as  we  have  seen,  entered  into  alliance 
with  the  dominant  powers  of  Europe ;  and  in  one 
asj)ect,  at  least,  it  was  a  merciful  Providence  that 
it  was  permitted  to  do  so.  For  it  was  already  ap- 
parent that  no  human  power  was  adequate,  without 
the  aid  of  Christian  sanctions,  to  preserve  its  own 
stability,  and  keep,  as  by  iron  rigor,  the  peace  of 
the  world  through  that  most  turbulent  period  of 
human  history.  But,  of  course,  in  lending  its  power 
to  such  a  purpose,  Christianity  itself,  in  its  courtly 
aspects,  became  corrupt,  and  degenerated  into  a 
system  of  concentrated  despotism  that  was  univer- 
sal and  complete  ;  because  it  involved  in  its  endless 
folds  the  souls,  and  finally  the  minds,  as  well  as 
bodies,  of  its  victims.  Thus,  in  its  political  form, 
it  ceased  in  the  end  to  be  a  true  expression  of  ge- 
nuine Christianity  at  all.  And  when  the  work  of 
the  schools  w^as  completed,  and  the  true  faith  of 
the  Church  was  ready  to  come  from  its  hidden 
retreats,  in  the  form  of  a  settled  and  comj^acted 
logical  creed,  instinct  with  the  glorious  evangelical 
spirit  of  the  great  Reformation,  the  whole  sustained 


M.     B.    HOPE,    D.D.  177 

by  tlie  revealed  Word  of  God,  in  tlie  dauntless  liands 
of  Luther  and  tlie  other  Reformers,  then  it  was 
that  Christianity  entered  upon  its  last  great  dis- 
pensation, viz.,  that  of  going  forth  to  its  final  and 
triumphant  conflict,  with  the  ignorance  and  the 
vices  which  are  the  sources  alike  of  the  despotisms 
and  the  miseries  of  earth,  with  a  view  to  the  uni- 
versal difliision  and  ultimate  establishment  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ.  And  this,  we  repeat,  is  the  true 
and  real  mission  which  this  stirring  revolutionary 
age  is  preparing  to  inaugurate. 

In  the  light  of  these  principles  we  are  prepared  to 
explain  another  j^henomenon  of  the  present  epoch, 
which,  at  first  sight,  seems  incompatible  with  the 
views  now  presented,  viz.,  that  the  revolutionary 
movements  of  the  times  have  been  chiefly  in  the 
hands  of  radicals  in  religion  as  well  as  government, 
instead  of  the  apostles  of  genuine  Christianity. 

We  remark,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that  the 
restlessness  which  is  expressing  itself  in  these 
movements  is  the  result  of  the  deep  and  living  con- 
sciousness of  unsatisfied  wants,  and  the  earnest  con- 
viction of  rights  unjustly  withheld, — that,  in  other 
words,  it  is  the  legitimate  and  necessary  conse- 
quence of  the  gradual  spread  of  that  light,  whose 
fountain  is  in  the  word  of  God,  and  which,  in 
virtue  of  its  divine  origin,  like  the  light  of  day 
upon  the  statue  of  the  vocal  Memnon,  wakes 
the  latent  harmonies  of  faith  and  hope  in  the 
gloomy  bosom  of  the  nations.  That  these  over- 
turnings  never  could  have  occurred  unless  they 
had  been  preceded  by  a  great  and  comprehensive 


178  THE     Pr.  IlSrCETON     PULPIT. 

reformation  of  religion,  both,  doctrinal  and  spiritual, 
like  tliat  of  tlie  sixteenth  century,  is  susceptible  of 
easy  proof,  if  it  is  not  intuitively  clear,  from  this 
simple  statement  of  the  facts.  That  the  move- 
ments themselves  have  so  generally  taken  on  a 
form  hostile  to  true  religion,  is  easily  explained. 

In  the  first  place,  the  very  ignorance  in  which  the 
people  have  been  kept,  tends  to  blind  them  to  the 
true  nature  of  the  relief  they  are  seeking,  as  well  as 
the  true  means  of  its  attainment.  Light  enough 
has  struggled  through  the  murky  atmosjihere  of 
despotism,  to  reveal  to  men  their  higher  spiritual 
tendencies  and  hopes,  and  the  magnitude  and 
weight  of  the  burdens  which  have  crushed  them  to 
to  the  earth ;  but  not  enough  to  disclose  the  real 
source  of  these  evils,  and  still  less,  the  adequate  and 
only  means  of  their  redress.  In  the  instinctive 
effort  to  struggle  up  into  a  higher  sphere  of  life, 
they  first  encounter  the  hopeless,  social  disabilities, 
and  crushing  2:)olitical  burdens,  arising  from  the 
desj)otic  governments  which  time  has  consolidated 
over  their  heads ;  and  it  is  natural,  therefore,  that 
they  should  first  seek  relief,  by  the  frantic  and  ra- 
dical attempt  to  overthrow  and  trample  in  the 
dust  the  immediate  instruments  of  their  oppression 
and  wrong.  Hence  the  discontent  and  wretched- 
ness of  these  restive  classes  of  the  old  world,  seek 
vent  in  revolutionary  attempts,  directed  against 
the  established  governments  of  Europe.  It  may 
be  long  before  their  enlightenment  is  sufficiently  ad- 
vanced, and  may  require  many  and  bitter  and  bloody 
experiences  of  failure,   to   convince   them  of  the 


M.     B.     UOPE,     D.D.  179 

emptiness  of  all  otlier  resources,  and  sliut  tliem  up 
to  tlie  faitli  of  Cliristiauity,  as  the  fuudameutal  and 
indispensable  condition  of  any  sufficient  or  com- 
plete relief. 

But,  secondly,  tliis  alienation  and  repugnance  to 
religion  is  the  more  natural,  because  the  only  form 
in  which  Christianity  is  known  to  these  revolution- 
ary advocates  of  social  rights,  is  that  in  which  it 
stands  before  theii'  eyes,  as  the  grand  ally  of  civil 
despotism,  the  very  corner-stone  and  binding  ce- 
ment of  the  fearful  structure,  which  tyranny  has 
reared  upon  the  blood  and  bones  of  slaughtered 
and  starving  millions.  No  w^onder,  therefore,  that 
their  avowed  aim  is  so  often  the  extinction  of 
Christianity ;  since,  in  their  estimation,  by  reason  of 
its  vicious  alliance  with  the  State,  it  is  the  very 
breath  and  life,  the  very  heart  and  soul  of  every 
living  despotism  on 'the  Continent  of  Europe. 

And  in  the  last  place,  it  is  not  to  be  disguised, 
that  Christianity  encounters  their  hatred,  because 
it  has  no  fellowshi]3  with  the  spirit  in  which  these 
radical  movements  are  often  conducted,  any  more 
than  it  has  with  the  oppression  and  wrong,  against 
which  they  are  aimed.  Besides  the  universal  dis- 
like of  the  human  heart  to  the  characteristic  doc- 
trines of  the  Gospel,  it  is  clear  that  the  fanaticism 
and  violence  and  bloodshed,  which  mark  the  track 
of  civil  revolutions,  are  rebuked  by  the  Christian- 
ity of  the  Xew  Testament,  with  the  same  calm  and 
severe  majesty,  with  which  it  denounces  inevitable 
overthrow    against   the    men   and    the   measures 


180  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

wliicli  extiuguisli  tlie  lights  of  liumau  knowledge 
and  human  hope  in  the  dark  bosom  of  society. 

The  significancy  of  this  extraordinary  epoch  can 
be  understood,  not  by  confining  our  attention  to 
the  character  of  the  agencies  which  have  produced 
it^ — for  these  are  often  low  in  their  origin,  and  blind 
in  their  intelligence,  and  evil  in  their  intentions, — 
but  by  studying  it  deeply,  as  a  historical  develop- 
ment of  the  divine  purpose  which  pervades  all  his- 
tory as  its  life-principle,  and  to  which  all  agencies, 
however  blind  and  however  bad,  are  alike  subject- 
ed, and  compelled  to  do  its  will.    What  the  specific 
purpose  of  God,  now  in  process  of  evolution  is, 
may  be  a  subject  of  great  doubt;  but  that  there  is 
a  divine  purpose  to  be  accomplished,  is  as  certain 
as  that  there  is  a  God.     The  Providence  that  is  im- 
plicated in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow,  cannot  be  foreign 
to  the  downfall,  or  the  destiny,  of  the  great  dynas- 
ties of  the  earth.     The  true  intent  and  meaning  of 
these  overturnings  is  to  be  sought,  not  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  this  or  that  form  of  government,  as 
though  the  construction  of  political  institutions  was 
the  chief  end  of  man,  but  in  their  tendency  to  bring 
the  living  truth  of  God,  in  its  quickening  and  sanc- 
tifying power,  into  vital  contact  with  the  heart  of 
humanity.     This  is  the  true  problem  which  mo- 
dern history  is  to  solve.     It  is  not  the  low  and  im- 
perfect form  of  political  freedom,  which,  at  best,  is 
but  a  well-contrived  system  of  checks  and  restraints 
upon  the  natural  passions  of  men,  but  the  universal 
establishment  of  that  spiritual  freedom,  which  is 
not  only   infinitely  higher,  but  which  admits  of 


M.     B.     HOPE,     D.D.  181 

being  absolute,  just  because  it  always  chooses  freely 
to  do  riglit.  It  is  tliis  wliicli  constitutes  the  true 
key  to  the  mysteries  of  Pro\'idence.  Whatever 
else  may  come  from  these  overturnings,  one  thing 
is  certain,  in  tlie  light  of  history  as  well  as  j^ro- 
phecy,  that  they  all  tend  to  give  increased  scope  to 
the  Word  of  God,  and  open  wider  and  more  effec- 
tual doors  to  the  apj)ointed  agencies  for  its  inculca- 
tion. Whatever  absolutism  may  do,  it  cannot  any 
longer  bind  the  Word  of  God.  It  is  to  compel  the 
hoary  despotisms  of  the  earth  to  strike  the  fetters 
from  the  soul  of  man,  that  God  is  causing  the  very 
ground  to  rock  beneath  them.  They  have,  at  no 
distant  day,  to  make  their  election  between  a  total 
change  of  policy,  with  reference  to  the  enlighten- 
ment and  freedom  w^hich  the  Gospel  brings  to  man- 
kind, or  their  own  downfall. 

We  are  not  enunciating  a  philosophy  of  history, 
and  still  less,  pretending  to  foretell  the  historical 
details  of  the  future :  we  are  simply  dealing  with 
the  cardinal  laws  which  govern  its  development : 
and  though  it  is  one  of  the  surest  tests  of  'true  sci- 
ence, that  it  enables  us  to  predict,  yet  it  requires  a 
knowledge  of  conditions,  as  well  as  laws,  to  fulfill 
this  requirement:  and  even  then,  the  remoteness 
or  complexity  of  the  result  may  transcend  the  pow- 
ers of  any  human  calculus  to  compute.  We  may 
know  the  laws  of  hydrodynamics  never  so  cer- 
tainly ;  but  we  may  not,  nevertheless,  be  able  to 
trace  out  the  course  of  a  body  committed  to  the 
conflicting  impulses  of  an  angry  flood  :  so,  however 
true  and  important  the  principles  we  have  been 


182  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

striving  to  illustrate,  they  may  not,  still,  enable  us 
to  foretell  tlie  course  and  tlie  issue  of  tlie  great  stir- 
ring events  of  tMs  turbulent  period  of  liumau  pro- 
gress. Whether  the  old  institutions  of  Europe,  its 
hereditary  monarchies,  its  spiritual  hierarchies,  and 
especially  its  master-piece  of  spiritual  despotism, 
the  papacy,  are  to  be  finally  and  utterly  destroyed, 
may  perhaps  be  a  question,  but  that  their  flagrant 
wrongs  and  abuses  are,  is  not  only  a  certainty,  but, 
we  may  almost  say,  a  fact  accomplished.  Who 
imagines,  for  a  moment,  that  the  later  reactions  in 
favor  of  absolutism  are,  or  can  be,  permanent? 
Who  does  not  see  that  they  are  procured  by  means 
which  necessarily  involve  other  and  more  fearful 
retributory  reactions  ?  There  is  nothing  in  them 
that  looks  like  permanence  or  stability.  The  thing 
is  impossible.  We  should  just  as  soon  expect  the 
Mississippi  or  the  Amazon,  the  snow-fed  Danube 
or  the  arrowy  Rhone,  to  pause  in  their  glad  and 
triumphant  course.  The  great  current  of  human 
enfranchisement,  like  every  other  obstructed  cur- 
rent, must  have  its  eddies,  but  its  flow  is  onward, 
and  irresistible.  Russia,  that  awful  incarnation  of 
human  despotism,  may  throw  into  the  stream  her 
fifty  millions  of  slaves,  and  then  pile  upon  them  the 
thirty  millions  of  poor,  miserable,  ignominious  Aus- 
tria, in  order  to  dam  up  and  arrest  its  resistless 
flow ;  but  the  very  weight  of  its  accumulated  wa- 
ters will  soon  sweep  them  away,  like  straws  on  the 
plunge  of  the  cataract.  Whether  any  of  the  late 
gains  of  the  spirit  of  liberty  can  be  maintained,  is 
more  than  questionable :  but  whether  they  can  or 


M.    B.     HOPE,     D.D.  183 

not,  tliat  higher  freedom  of  the  Gospel — without 
which,  the  change  from  absolute  monarchy  to  re- 
2^ul)licauism,  is  but  a  change  from  the  despotism  of 
the  intelligent  Ijut  selfish  few,  to  the  desj)otism  of 
the  blind,  and  more  selfish  and  brutal  many, — is 
destined  to  be  advanced  l^y  these  overturnings, 
and  finally  enthroned  supreme  in  the  confidence 
and  hearts  of  men.  This,  surely,  cannot  be  doubted 
l)y  any  one  who  studies  their  causes,  or  compre- 
hends the  true  nature  of  history,  as  an  evolution  of 
the  divine  purj)ose,  with  reference  to  man.*     Even 

*  The  late  reaction  in  favor  of  despotism  in  France,  the  news  of  which 
reached  us  after  this  paragraph  was  penned,  furnishes  a  curious  illustration 
of  the  principles  of  this  discourse.  The  solution  of  what  seems  to  excite  so 
general  surprise  and  disappointment,  appears  to  be  abundantly  clear.  France, 
by  the  election  of  a  military  usurper,  has  pronounced  her  unequivocal  judg- 
ment, that  she  was  not  prepared  for  the  institutions  of  constitutional  liberty. 
In  the  emphatic  language  of  one  of  her  ablest  statesmen,  of  a  former  revolu- 
tion. La  France  doit  avoir  une  religion — France  must  have  a  religion  In 
the  absence  of  that  prime  condition  of  civil  freedom,  the  choice  of  the  coun- 
try lay  between  the  evils  of  anarchy  on  the  one  hand,  and  those  of  a  military 
despotism  on  the  other :  and  France  has  chosen  the  latter,  as  immeasurably 
the  least  of  the  two.  The  material  interests  of  the  country  all  demand  peace, 
in  order  to  prosperity ;  and  peace  is  impossible  at  present  in  France,  except 
under  the  strong  hand  of  absolute  power.  But  let  the  principles  of  religion 
and  education  so  leaven  the  masses,  that  liberty  can  be  entered  as  one  of  the 
possible  conditions,  compatible  with  the  peace  of  the  country,  and  then  see 
how  the  nation  will  rise  in  its  might,  and  sweep  away  the  treacherous  per- 
fidy of  a  tyrannical  usurper,  as  the  majestic  king  of  the  forest  would  brush 
an  annoying,  envenomed  insect  from  his  flanks.  To  suppose  that  such  a 
government  can  stand  an  hour,  after  its  felt  necessity  has  passed  away,  is  to 
suppose  that  perjury,  and  violence,  and  perfidy  can  command  the  conlkience 
and  support  of  honest  and  true  men.  It  is  to  suppose  that  history  has  no  ap. 
pointed  goal — no  great  ulterior  purpose  to  achieve  in  behalf  of  humanity.  It  is 
to  ignore  every  lesson  of  the  past,  and  every  hope  of  the  future;  it  is  to  de- 
throne Jehovah,  and  to  put  the  reins  of  the  universe  into  the  hands  of  chance,  or 
of  Satan.  There  can  be  no  stronger  statement  of  the  doom  that  hangs  over  the 
cause  of  despotism,  than  to  say,  that  it  contravenes  the  plans  of  the  Almighty, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  race ;  as  clearly  revealed  in  history  as  well  as  pro- 
phecy. 

If  the  cause  of  Hungary  could  be  detached  from  that  of  Continental  Eu- 


184  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

tlie  wildest  devices  of  folly  wliich  cliaracterize  the 
social  movements  of  the  age,  Fourierism  in  France, 
Kepiiblicanism  in  Germany  and  Italy,  Chartism  in 
England,  and  Repeal  in  Ireland,  are  the  earnest 
expression  of  felt  wants,  which  Christianity  alone 
can  relieve.  That  some  of  them  are  infidel  in  their 
spirit  and  their  supporters,  is  the  result,  not  so 
much  of  intelligent  Jbatred  of  the  Gospel,  as  of  sim- 
ple ignorance  as  to  what  the  Gospel  is. 

And  yet  even  in  these  visionary  and  fanatical 
outbursts  of  the  radical  revolutionary  sj^irit,  the 
instincts  of  the  heart  are  often  true  to  their  object, 
when  the  darkened  intellect  wholly  fails  to  recog- 
nize their  true  nature,  or  set  them  forth  in  the  clear 
liofht  of  the  reason.  The  watch-words  of  the  down- 
trodden  classes  of  the  old  world — liberty^  equality^ 
fraternity — are  not  so  far  from  the  embodiment  of 
the  true  and  fundamental  principles  of  that  very 
civilization  which  yet  awaits  the  human  race.  But 
as  to  the  sources  whence  these  blessings  are  to 
come,  they  are,  by  the  necessities  of  their  previous 
condition,  wholly  in  the  dark. 

rope,  we  might  hope  to  see  the  beginning  of  the  end  speedily  initiated.  Four 
millions  of  Protestants,  with  nearly  3,000  churches,  might  serve  as  a  foun- 
dation for  the  political  and  religious  freedom  of  a  nation  of  ten  millions  of 
people,  if  they  were  instinct  with  the  life  of  true  evangelical  religion.  And 
whatever  doubt  there  may  be  on  this  latter  point,  there  can  be  none,  that  the 
truth  is  making  rapid  progress  among  them,  and  that  the  time  is  not  far  dis- 
tant when  these  fundamental  conditions  of  success  will  be  reached.  No 
proposition  seems  clearer  to  us,  than  that  the  coming  history  of  Europe  is  to 
embody  the  conflict  between  Protestantism  and  civil  freedom  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  Church  of  Rome  and  despotism  on  the  other.  The  very  forms,  as 
well  as  the  spirit,  of  the  Romish  Church  have  been  developed  under  condi- 
tions which  made  it  essentially  despotic  ;  and  the  final  freedom  of  Europe  is 
impossible,  under  the  absolute  dominion  of  that  church,  as  well  as  under  the 
anarchy  incident  to  the  prevalence  of  infidelity  or  atheism. 


M.      B.      II  O  P  E,    D.  D.  185 

The  "  liberty"  wliicli  tliey  are  blindly  struggling 
after,  in  tlie  turbulent  and  bloody  track  of  radi- 
calism, is  to  be  realized  in  tlie  enfranchisement  of 
the  gospel,  and  grounded  on  that  personal  liberty 
wherewith  Christ  makes  his  people  free.  The 
"  equality,"  to  which  their  inward  convictions  assure 
them  they  are  entitled,  is  not  an  agrarian  equality 
of  social  and  material  position,  but  an  equality  in 
human  rights,  founded  on  an  equality  of  moral  con- 
dition and  desert  in  the  sight  of  God:  and  the 
"  fraternity,"  emblazoned  on  their  motto,  is  the 
genuine,  but  it  may  be  perverted  heart-utterance 
of  the  conscious  right  to  membership  in  that  com- 
mon brotherhood  of  humanity,  which  springs  out 
of  the  common  Fatherhood  of  God.  The  whole 
and  every  item,  of  this  ideal  longing  of  humanity 
in  its  most  degraded  and  dangerous  forms,  and 
w^hich  has  been  moulded  into  the  war-cry  of  mo- 
dern revolution,  is  destined  to  fulfilment ;  but  in  a 
form  and  from  a  source  wddely  different  from  that 
to  which  the  ignorant  and  vicious  and  dangerous 
paupers  and  outcasts  of  the  world,  are  looking  for 
succour.  They  shall  yet  enjoy  all,  and  more  than 
all,  their  brightest  hopes  :  but  only  as  a  fruit  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ.  Let  them  see,  as  they  ultimately 
will  see,  that  all  they  have  conceived,  and  infinite- 
ly more,  is  attainable,  as  the  free  gift  of  a  gracious 
salvation,  the  purchase  of  the  Son  of  God  by  the 
sacrifice  of  the  cross,  and  how  w^ill  they  not  joy- 
fully embrace  the  gospel  which  does  satisfy,  in  lieu 
of  empty  and  absurd  theories  which  do  not.  It  is 
this  blind  but  energetic  feeling  after  truth,  which 
13 


186  THE     PKljSrCETON      PULPIT, 

awakens  in  us  tlie  hope,  tliat  triitli  will  ultimately 
be  found.  That  the  first  attempts  are  wild  and 
fruitless,  and  therefore  subject  to  repeated  disap- 
pointments and  reverses,  results  necessarily  from 
their  being  made  in  the  dark.  But  the  very  fact 
that  they  are  fruitless,  will  compel  their  earnest 
authors  to  grope  on  till  light  comes.  And  it  is 
morally  impossible  that  light  should  fail  to  reach 
them  ere  long,  from  some  of  the  innumerable 
sources,  from  which  it  is  streaming  all  over  Chris- 
tendom. We  are  not  of  those  who  regard  these 
struggles  of  oppressed  humanity  either  with  un- 
mmgled  dislike  or  despair;  or  who  would  with- 
draw the  sympathies  of  the  Christian  world  from 
their  sufferings,  because  they  are  sometimes  bap- 
tized with  the  spirit  of  an  optimist  infidelity.  Even 
if  many  of  them  are  atheists  at  hearty  they  are  yet 
human  beings ;  and  as  such  have  an  immortal  in- 
terest at  stake,  in  the  redemption  and  the  hopes  of 
the  gospel ;  and  are  therefore  accessible, — most  in- 
vitingly accessible, — to  its  ministry  of  mercy.  And 
there  is  no  conviction  more  clear  or  unalterable  to 
us,  than  that  the  hopes  of  a  crushed  and  bleeding 
humanity  are  all.  conditioned  upon  the  presence  of 
Christianity,  to  an  extent  sufficient  to  control  the 
movements,  and  animate  the  heart,  and  nerve  the 
ai'm,  of  those  who  are  to  lead  the  destinies  of  man- 
kind in  the  final  great  struggle  for  salvation  and 
freedom. 

Let  men  of  the  world,  phnoso23hers  and  states- 
men, overlook  and  despise  the  Church,  the  living 
embodiment  of    Christianity; — let    them   regard 


M.      B.      HOPE,     D.D.  187 

what  Christians  are  doing  to  spread  tlie  gospel  of 
tlie  Son  of  God  among  men,  as  well  enoiigli  in 
itself,  but  yet  as  boyish  occupation,  in  comparison 
with  their  great  schemes  of  national  enterprise ;' 
they  will  one  day  find  out,  that  it  is  this  very 
Christianity,  which  is  yet  to  occupy  the  vacant 
throne  of  the  world:  that  all  their  exj^enditures 
and  bloodshed,  their  turmoils  and  state  craft,  have 
been  only  contributing  to  this  result ;  and  that  a 
power  higher  than  the  highest  has  uttered  the 
decree, — "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God ;  remove  the 
diadem  and  take  off  the  crown :  this  shall  not  be 
the  same  :  exalt  him  that  is  low  and  abase  him  that 
is  high.  I  will  overturn,  overturn,  overturn  it,  and 
it  shall  be  no  more,  until  he  come  whose  right  it 
is ;  and  I  will  give  it  him." 

The  work  of  revolution  has  often  been  more  dis- 
astrous and  bloody,  but  never,  we  believe,  more 
universal  and  pervading,  than  it  is  at  this  moment. 
Without  the  light  of  revelation,  we  might  well  be 
alarmed  in  attempting  to  guess  whereto  these  events 
are  tending.  But  in  the  full  blaze  of  that  light, 
the  Christian  believer  may  watch  their  accelerat- 
ing progress,  hot  only  without  dismay,  but  with  a 
full  and  joyous  confidence,  that  they  are  all  ful- 
filling the  resistless  will  of  Him,  who  "  hath  his 
way  in  the  whirlwind  and  in  the  storm ;"  the  great 
law  of  whose  Providence,  as  revealed  in  universal 
nature,  both  animate  and  inanimate,  hath  ever  been 
to  educe  from  the  revolution  and  overthrow  of  one 
dispensation,  another  more  lofty,  more  glorious  and 
more  perfect;  and  whose  final  triumph  will  be 


188  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

inaugurated,  wlien  the  blast  of  the  Apocalyptic 
trumpet  shall  proclaim  to  the  universe,  that  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world  have  become  the  kingdoms 
of  our  Lord,  and  of  his  Christ ;  and  he  shall  reign 
for  ever  and  ever. 


POWER  AND  PERPETUITY  OF  LAW* 

BT 

JOHx"*!  FORSYTH,  D.D., 

PEOFESSOK  OP  I^TIN. 


"It  is  easier  for  heaven  and  earth  to  pass,  than  one  tittle  of  the  law  to  fail."" 
— St.  Lvke  xvii.  17. 

If  you  liave  read  the  Pentateucli  and  especially 
tlie  books  of  Exodus  and  Leviticus  witli  care,  you 
liave  perliaps  wondered  why  a  system  of  laws,  so 
complicated,  so  careful  of  little  things,  so  rigidly 
exact  in  its  directions  about  them,  should  ever  have 
been  enacted.  Viewing  it  in  certain  aspects,  it  may 
be  that  a  sort  of  half  suspicion  has  crossed  your 
minds  that  legislation  of  this  kind  is  really  un- 
worthy of  such  a  being  as  God.  But  when  the 
purpose  of  its  Divine  Author  is  seen,  when  the 
relation  of  the  Law  of  Moses  to  the  Jew^s  as  a  sepa- 
rated j^eople,  and  to  the  Gospel  dispensation  is 
fully  understood,  the  whole  system  appears  in  quite 
a  new  light.  The  marks  of  divine  wisdom  and 
goodness  are  clearly  discernible  in  all  its  parts, 
even  in  its  minutest  details.  Every  law  has  a  rea- 
son, every  ceremony  has  a  meaning,  every  rite  be- 
comes instinct  with  the  most  precious  truth. 

•  Preached  in  the  Chapel  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey. 


190  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

This  Mosaic  code  is  "  tlie  Law"  spoken  of  in  the 
text.  It  embodied  many  precepts  of  universal  ap- 
plication, and  eternal  authority, — it  included,  in- 
deed, the  whole  moral  law,  but  as  a  code,  it  was 
enacted  for  a  specific  end,  and  was  to  continue  in 
force  for  a  specific  period.  Until  this  end  was 
gained,  and  this  period  completed,  not  a  jot  or 
tittle  of  it  could  be  annulled.  When  the  Son  of 
God  exclaimed  with  his  expiring  breath,  from  that 
cross  to  which  he  had  been  nailed  as  the  sacrifice 
for  human  guilt,  "  it  is  finished,"  and  as  if  in  sym- 
pathy with  him  the  "  veil  of  the  temple  rent  in 
twain,"  then  the  reign  of  this  Law  terminated.  But 
until  that  very  moment  had  come,  it  could  and  did 
claim  the  reverent  homage  and  exact  obedience  of 
every  Jew.  The  system  possessed  all  the  mighty 
power  of  Law — nothing  could  set  it  aside.  To  re- 
gard or  to  treat  any  one  of  its  provisions  as  an 
effete,  or  antiquated  or  useless  thing,  was  in  effect 
to  charge  the  Divine  Lawgiver  with  folly.  Hence 
the  strong  language  in  which  our  Lord  asserts  its 
power,  and  its  perpetuity  until  the  fulness  of  the 
time  had  come.  ''''Heaven  and  earth  may  pass 
aivay^  hut  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  Law  carmotfaiV 

These  words  announce  a  great  truth;  what  is 
here  affirmed  of  the  Law  in  a  distinctive  sense  is 
true  of  Law  universally. 

God,  who  called  the  universe  into  existence  by 
the  word  of  his  power,  governs  it  according  to  the 
counsel  of  his  own  will.  The  creatures  animate 
and  inanimate  which  make  up  the  universe  have 
been  placed  by  Him  under  laws  suited  to  their 


JOIIX      FORSYTH,    D.D.  191 

several  natures,  and  to  the  respective  ends  wliicli 
they  are  intended  to  subserve.  We  know  tliat  this 
is  so  from  our  own  observation  of  those  parts  of 
creation  which  come  under  our  notice ;  and  whether 
we  reason  from  the  properties  of  the  creature  or 
the  perfections  of  the  Creator,  we  are  entitled  to 
infer  that  the  same  thing  holds  good  of  the  universe 
at  large;  in  other  words,  wherever  a  creature 
exists  there  is  a  law  that  reaches  and  governs  it. 

Now  the  great  truth  which  the  text  assei-ts  is 
this,  viz.,  that  the  laws  which  govern  the  universe 
are  of  infinitely  more  consequence  than  the  uni- 
verse itself, — that  it  is  of  unspeakably  more  im- 
portance that  the  former  should  be  maintained 
than  that  the  latter  should  exist, — that  all  the 
creatures  of  God,  rational  and  irrational,  should 
obey  the  laws  to  which  He  has  been  pleased  to 
subject  them,  that  they  should  work  in  harmony 
with  these  enactments,  than  that  any  or  all  of  them 
should  be  kept  in  being.  Glorious  as  are  all  the 
works  of  God,  yet  if  you  should  take  any  one  of 
them,  consider  it  apart  from  all  others,  or  view  it 
as  a  mere  isolated  thing,  you  would  perceive  little 
if  any  excellence  in  it.  It  would  mdeed  bespeak 
the  creative  energy  of  Him  who  made  it,  but  you 
could  not  discover  from  it  alone  whether  He  is 
wise  and  good,  or  the  reverse.  It  is  only  when 
you  regard  it  in  its  relations  to  other  things,  and 
ascertain  tuJuj  it  was  made,  and  see  its  exact  fitness 
to  an  end,  that  its  real  glory  and  greatness  as  a 
work  of  God  shine  forth.  How  beautiful  to  us  is 
the  spectacle  of  a  field  of  waving  corn  ?     Its  very 


192  THE     PRINCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

verdure  is  refresliiiig  to  the  eye,  because  adapted 
to  tlie  structure  of  our  organ  of  vision,  while  its 
yellow  ripeness  gives  the  ]3romise  of  an  abundant 
supply  of  the  food  we  need.  But — if  we  may  im- 
agine such  a  thing — transfer  it  to  a  world  of  crea- 
tui'es  with  a  constitution  totally  unlike  ours,  its 
beauty  would  vanish  because  its  fitness  to  an  end 
would  be  lost.  The  glory  of  creation,  then,  arises 
mainly  from  the  benign  ends  and  j^erfect  adapta- 
tions of  its  countless  parts.  And  hence  it  is  that 
the  universe  must  be,  as  we  have  already  said? 
"  under  law  to  God,  and  that  the  mamtenance  of 
the  laws  which  govern  it  is  vastly  more  important 
than  the  existence  of  the  universe  itself. 

Let  me  illustrate  this  position  by  an  example 
taken  from  the  worlds  above  us.  There  are  the 
heavenly  bodies,  which,  under  the  dominion  of  law, 
revolve  through  their  immense  and  seemingly  com- 
plex circuits  in  perfect  harmony  and  order,  while 
with  their  mild  radiance  they  relieve  the  darkness 
which,  from  night  to  night,  gathers  round  us. 
Moving  as  they  do  with  a  majestic,  a  never-ceasing 
steadiness,  the  astronomer  is  enabled  to  measure 
their  distances,  their  magnitudes,  their  orbits,  to 
predict  their  places,  and  to  calculate  the  reciprocal 
influence  of  planet  upon  planet ;  while  the  mariner, 
relying  upon  the  lessons  which  astronomy  has 
taught  him,  with  an  undoubting  confidence  that 
these  starry  guides  never  can  mislead  him,  boldly 
pushes  out  his  bark  upon  the  trackless  deep.  In 
all  this  there  is  something  moral.  Though  the  ob- 
jects  themselves    consist    simply   of   unorganised 


JOHN     FORSYTH,     I)  .  D  .  193 

matter,  yet  the  laws  wliicli  govern  tliem  are  most 
intimately  connected  with  the  convenience  and 
the  comfort  of  the  dwellers  upon  earth,  and  thus 
the  moral  attributes  of  Him  whose  fiat  gave  being 
to  the  worlds  that  fill  immensity, — His  goodness. 
His  wisdom,  as  well  as  His  mightiness,  are  revealed. 
"  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  the  firma- 
ment showeth  his  handy  work;  day  unto  day 
uttereth  speech,  night  unto  night  showeth  know- 
led  s^e  of  Him." 

In  the  working  of  the  stupendous  mechanism  of 
the  heavens,  all  is  orderly  and  harmonious  so  long 
as  the  law  which  governs  its  movements  is  obeyed. 
But  suppose  the  reverse  of  this  to  be  the  case — that 
the  law  of  gravitation  was  liable  to  incessant  inter- 
ruptions, that  the  forces  which  produce  the  beauti- 
ful steadiness  we  now  observe,  operated  according 
to  no  fixed  rule,  either  as  to  direction  or  degree,  so 
that  satellites  should  rush  ofi"  into  boundless  space, 
or  dash  furiously  against  each  other,  and  the  planets, 
starting  from  their  orbits,  should  wander  at  their 
will  through  immensity,  or  should  be  suddenly  de- 
luged with  the  fogs  or  the  flanies  (as  the  case  may 
be)  of  a  comet,  while  this  fair  earth  of  ours,  ac- 
cording as  chance  di'ove  her  near  to  or  distant  from 
the  sun,  were  converted  into  a  fiery  furnace,  or  a 
globe  of  ice.  We  may  try  to  fancy  the  state  of 
things  under  such  a  reign  of  anarchy,  though  the 
boldest  ima2:ination  must  come  far  short  of  the 
reality.  But  the  main  question  is,  can  we  suppose 
that  God  would  sufi"er,  even  for  a  moment,  such  a 
lawless  universe  to  exist  ?     No.     He  is  a  "  God  of 


194  THE    PKINCETON    PULPIT. 

order,"  and  it  were  far  Ijetter  to  remand  creation  to 
its  original  nothingness,  tlian  to  permit  disorder  and 
confusion  thus  to  gain  the  mastery  over  it ;  better 
annihilate  it  at  once,  than  not  maintain  its  laws  in 
full  supremacy  and  force.  "  Heaven  and  earth 
may  pass  away,  but  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  laws 
shall  not  fail." 

Let  us,  if  you  please,  take  another  illustration 
from  the  earth  on  which  ive  dwell.     Here,  too,  we 
observe  a  grand  and  complicated  system  of  physical 
operations  incessantly  going  on,  of  physical  laws 
perpetually  at  work.     There  is  the  refreshing  alter- 
nation of  day  and  night,  the  succession  of  the  sea- 
sons, the  rising  and  falling  tides  ;  seeds  planted  at 
the  right  time,  and  in  proper  soil,  give  back  their 
kind  with  an  increase  of  "  some  thirty,  some  sixty, 
some  an  hundred  fold ;"  fire  burns,  food  nourishes, 
poisons  kill.     But  it  is  needless  to  enumerate,  for  it 
would  take  volumes  to  describe  the  countless  and 
varied  processes  ever  going  forward  in  the  vast 
laboratory  of  nature.     Now,  each  and  all  of  these 
have  their  laws,  and  when  we  have  learned,  by  ob- 
servation or  experiment,  what  the  law  is  in  any 
given  case,  we  know  how  to  act  for  the  present  not 
only,   but  what  to  do  through  all  coming  time. 
Nature,  or  rather  the  God  of  nature,  governs  by 
fixed  laws,  and  we  rely  with  an  undoubting  con- 
fidence on  their  unvarying  uniformity.     While  the 
earth  endures,  there  will  be  seed-time  and  harvest, 
summer  and  winter,  day  and  night ;  men  lie  down 
at  evening  confident  that  if  they  wake  in  the  morn- 
ing at  all,  they  will  see  the  sun  come  forth  from  the 


JOHN    rORSYTII,     D.D.  195 

east,  prepared  like  tlie  strong  man  to  run  his  daily 
circuit ;  the  farmer  plants  his  seed,  and  then  waits 
in  hope  of  reaping  an  abundant  harvest ;  the  mar- 
iner can  tell  the  exact  moment  when  the  tides  will 
be  high  or  low  at  any  given  point.  But  suppose 
that  the  whole  of  this  wonderful  economy  of  nature 
were  mysteriously  disturbed — that  her  processes, 
apparently  so  complicated,  yet  never  confused,  were 
suddenly  left  to  chance,  and  were  subject  to  no 
laws,  so  that  men  sowed  fields  and  reaped  nothing, 
and  then  again  where  they  planted  nothing,  they 
reaped  abundance ;  so  that  their  food  one  day  min- 
istered nourishment,  and  the  next  deadly  poison  ; 
nor  could  they  tell  whether  the  water  they  drank 
would  quench  or  increase  their  thirst;  that  the 
darkness  of  night,  the  light  of  day,  the  heat  of 
summer,  the  frost  of  winter  lasted  through  periods 
so  indefinite,  and  were  liable  to  changes  so  great 
and  sudden,  that  none  could  predict  what  a  moment 
would  bring  forth  ;  I  ask,  again,  could  God  permit 
this  goodly  earth  of  ours  to  fall  into  a  condition  so 
utterly  lawless  and  so  destructive  to  all  the  crea- 
tures that  dwell  upon  its  surface?  No  indeed. 
Better  a  thousand  fold  that  it  were  blotted  from 
existence  than  that  it  should  become  such  a  prey  of 
anarchy,  such  a  plaything  of  chance,  without  law, 
without  life — a  world  as  dishonouring  to  its  Maker, 
as  it  would  be  intolerable  for  man. 

But  let  us  come  nearer  home  and  take  an  illus- 
tration from  man  himself.  In  whatever  aspect  we 
view  him,  whether  as  a  physical,  social,  intellectual, 
or  moral  being,  we  fijid  him  the  subject  of  laws, — 


196  THE    PEINOETON    PULPIT. 

of  laws  uncliangeable  as  the  eternal  Lawgiver  him- 
self;  and,  liarsli  as  the  announcement  may  sound, 
it  is  nevertheless  true  that  not  to  maintain  these 
laws  would  be  a  far  greater  evil  than  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  human  race ;  better  that  men  should 
perish  than  that  these  laws  should  be  set  aside. 
Alas  !  the  ruin  of  human  beings  is  not  merely  a 
contingent  necessity,  but  a  perpetually  recurring 
fact.  Myriads  upon  myriads  of  our  race  have 
already  perished  in  consequence  of  violating  those 
unchancrins:  laws  which  God  has  enacted  for  their 
government.  Every  day  beholds  thousands  per- 
ishing— destroyed  in  body,  or  in  soul,  or  both,  for 
time  and  for  eternity.  Let  us  see  how  the  case 
stands  with  us.  Our  bodies  "are  under  law  to 
God  ;"  they  are  subject  to  laws  suited  to  the  mate- 
rials of  which  they  are  constructed,  and  to  the 
purposes  they  are  intended  to  subserve  in  the  eco- 
nomy of  life.  They  need  food  for  their  sustenance 
and  growth,  shelter  from  the  inclemencies  of  the 
seasons,  medicine  when  affected  by  disease.  We 
may  not  trifle  with  any  one  of  these  laws,  to  which 
He  who  "  formed  us  of  clay  and  made  us  men," 
hath  subjected  our  physical  nature.  If  we  do,  it  is 
at  our  peril ;  for,  although  these  laws  are  not  en- 
forced by  precisely  the  same  penalty,  yet  we  should 
ever  remember  that  each  has  a  penalty  of  its  own  ; 
and  whether  it  be  more  or  less  severe,  we  must  en- 
dure the  punishment  if  we  venture  to  violate  the 
law.  Let  the  motive  which  prompts  a  man  to  dis- 
regard the  laws  of  health,  or  the  manner  in  which 
the  thing  is  done,  be  what  it  may,  let  him,  for  ex- 


D.D.  197 

ample,  turn  uiglit  iDto  clay,  whetlier  lie  1)6  a  student, 
wliose  intense  zeal  for  knowledge  keeps  liim  at  liis 
books,  wlien  he  should  be  in  his  bed,  or  a  miserable 
sensualist,  who  gives  his  midnight  hours  to  revelry 
and  banqueting,  the  inevitable  result  to  him  will 
be  a  ruined  constitution.  Be  assured  that  if  you 
will  persist  in  drinking  or  in  eating  that  which  dis- 
orders your  stomach,  or  shatters  your  nerves,  you 
must  pay  the  penalty  which  the  law  appoints  to  all 
who  thus  act.  God  will  not  modify  the  order  He 
has  established  so  as  to  suit  the  convenience  of  your 
depraved  appetites ;  He  will  not  change  His  laws  to 
accommodate  either  the  unwise  student,  or  the  mi- 
seral^le  sensualist.  "  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass, 
but  not  one  jot  or  tittle  of  His  law." 

So  it  is  with  men  considered  as  social  bein^. 
There  are  laws  of  social  life  ordained  of  God, 
and  though  we  cannot  always  trace  their  operation 
so  distinctly  as  we  can  the  working  of  those  which 
govern  the  material  creation,  we  may  still  be  cer- 
tain that  the  former  are  just  as  uniform  and  immut- 
able as  the  latter.  We  only  need  to  open  our  eyes 
and  look  at  what  is  going  on  around  us,  to  be  con- 
vinced of  this  truth.  Economy,  diligence,  prudence, 
truthfulness,  unswerving  probity,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  extravagance,  self-indulgence,  falsehood,  deceit, 
trickery,  on,  the  other,  do  not  yield  their  respective 
fruits  at  random,  or  by  chance.  No.  There  is  a  law 
which  renders  these  results  invariable.  "  A  good 
tree  cannot  bring  forth  evil  fruit,  nor  a  corrupt  tree 
good  fruit."  What  is  the  common  proverb,  "  ho- 
nesty is  the  best  policy,"  but  just  the  embodiment, 


198  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

in  words,  of  the  conviction  forced  into  the  general 
mind,  (if  I  may  use  the  term,)  by  events  of  which 
men  are  daily  the  spectators  or  the  subjects,  "  that 
verily  there  is  a  God  that  judgeth  in  the  earth," 
and  th^t  within  certain  limits,  even  in  this  world, 
"  He  renders  to  every  man  according  to  his  works." 
Men  who  oppress  and  defraud  others  sometimes 
grow  rich,  "  panting  after  the  dust  of  the  earth  on 
the  head  of  the  poor  ;"  they  may  scrape  together  a 
great  heap  of  gold,  but  wealth,  in  its  highest  and 
noblest  sense,  they  neither  do  nor  can  possess.  The 
trickster,  the  time-server,  the  two-faced  flatterer,  may 
secure  the  position  or  the  office  on  which  his  heart 
is  set,  but  real  honour,  and  lasting  power,  he  never 
wins.  God's  law  forbids  it.  And  the  experience 
of  all  ages  embodied  in  the  proverbs  of  all  nations, 
as  well  as  the  Word  of  Eternal  Truth,  proves  that 
in  the  long  run  such  men  always  reap  their  proper 
reward,  and  go  at  last  to  their  own  place.  If  the 
temporal  penalty  they  have  incurred  does  not  in- 
variably come  down  upon  the  offender's  own  head, 
it  is  an  heir-loom  for  those  who  come  after  them ;  it 
descends  as  an  entailed  curse  to  their  children.  If 
then,  my  hearers,  you  are  spared  to  enter  the  arena 
of  public  social  life,  remember  that  there  are  cer- 
tain laws,  immutable  as  their  Author,  by  which 
you  will  be  bound,  while  taking  your  part  in  those 
scenes  in  which  you  hope  to  share  ;  and  that  it  is 
only  in  the  way  of  unswerving  obedience  to  them, 
that  any  of  you  can  expect  to  gain,  what  I  am  sure 
all  of  you  desire,  wealth,  influence,  comfort,  the  re- 
spect, the  confidence,   the   admiwng  gratitude  of 


JOHN    FORSYTH,    D.D.  199 

your  fellow-men,  honour  in  life,  and  a  grave  watered 
by  tlie  tears  of  the  good.  These  are  objects  which 
cannot  fail  to  awaken  tlie  warm  aspirations  of  every 
generous  soul;  multitudes  are  perpetually  and 
eagerly  asking  how  can  we  obtain  them,  but 
though  God  has  furnished  a  clear  and  certain  an- 
swer to  their  inquiry,  few  succeed,  because  unwill- 
ing to  pay  the  price  which  He  demands,  to  comply 
with  the  conditions  He  has  imposed,  to  obey  the 
laws  He  has  enacted. 

Thus  far  we  have  viewed  the  teaching  of  our 
text  mainly  as  it  bears  upon  men's  present  interests 
and  their  earthly  life.  It  contains  lessons  of  still 
higher  moment.  We  know  that  this  world  is  the 
prelude  of  another,  and  even  here  below,  we  have, 
in  the  relation  of  youth  to  age,  a  striking  image  of 
the  relation  which  subsists  between  this  world  and 
the  next,  between  our  present  life  and  the  everlast- 
ing life  to  come.  Youth  is  the  season  of  prepara- 
tion for  mature  manhood,  and  this  circumstance, 
which  might  well  impart  a  sober  seriousness  even 
to  hopeful  and  joyous  childhood,  never  fails  to  fill  the 
heart  of  the  thoughtful  parent  with  profound  anx- 
iety. Ordinarily  what  the  youth  is,  is  the  man  ;  and 
hence  that  exhortation  and  promise  of  Holy  Writ — 
"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when 
he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it."  There  are,  no 
doubt,  occasional  exceptions  to  the  rule,  for  He 
whose  grace  alone  can  renovate  any  soul,  is  a  Sove- 
reign, working  all  things  according  to  the  counsel 
of  His  own  will ;  He  can  change  the  lion  into  the 
lamb,  and  at  any  period  of  life  can  convert  the 


200  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

most  abandoned  of  sinners  into  tlie  noblest  of 
saints,  "raising  bini  from  tbe  dungbill  to  a  seat 
among  tlie  princes  of  his  people."  Still  universal 
experience  proves  that  the  law  before  stated,  and 
implied  in  the  Scripture  already  quoted,  holds 
£food — that  "  the  child  is  the  father  of  the  man  ;" 
that  the  impressions  we  receive  during  our  early 
years  are  most  enduring,  and  give  shape  and  com- 
plexion to  our  future  character.  And  hence,  even 
a  Pagan  satirist  could  utter  those  noble  lines, 
which  might  well  be  engraven  on  the  memory  of 
the  Christian  parent — 

Maxima  debetur  puero  reverentia.     Si  quid 
Turpe  paras,  nee  tu  pueri  eontempseris  annos, 
Sed  peccaturo  obstat  tibi  filius  infans. 

He  who  wastes  the  period  which  God  has  allotted 
to  make  a  man  of  him — a  period  short  indeed,  as  it 
consists  of  only  a  few  years,  but  sufficient  for  the 
purpose  if  rightly  improved — wastes  what  he  never 
can  replace.  He  may  deeply  regret  his  folly — he 
certainly  will  regret,  whether  he  dies  in  early  man- 
hood or  lives  to  old  age ;  he  may  weep  bitter  tears, 
but,  like  Esau,  he  shall  "  find  no  place  for  repent- 
ance ;"  he  may  labour  hard,  rising  early  and  eating 
the  bread  of  carefulness,  in  order  to  make  up  for 
lost  time,  but  his  success,  at  the  best,  will  be  only 
partial ;  he  has  madly  thrown  away  jewels  of  price- 
less value,  and  now  their  entire  recovery  is  impos- 
sible. 

Such  is  the  law  of  our  present  earthly  existence, 
and  in  it  we  see  shadowed  forth  the  law  of  our  fu- 
ture and  eternal  life.     Now^  is  the  time  to  prej^are 


JOHN     FORSYTH,     D  .  D  .  201 

for  eternity,  and  we  are  urged  by  every  kind  of 
motive  that  may  be  supposed  to  tell  U23on  creatures 
sucli  as  we  are,  by  motives  the  most  animating  and 
alarming,  to  engage  in  the  work  on  which  hang 
everlasting  things.  The  season  allowed  to  us  for 
this  momentous  end,  "  the  day  of  salvation,"  is  in- 
deed very  brief,  so  brief  as  to  be  fitly  com^^ared  to 
"  a  hand  breadth" — "  a  watch  in  the  nicrht " — it  is  ne- 
vertheless  amply  sufficient  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing "  our  calling  and  election  sure."  All  the  means 
requisite  to  success  have  been  freely  j^rovided  and 
are  placed  within  our  reach  by  Him  who  commands 
us  to  "  work  out  our  salvation."  The  law  of  life, 
in  the  most  comprehensive  sense  of  the  term,  to 
which  man  was  subjected,  when  God  made  him  "of 
the  dust  of  the  ground,"  and  stamped  uj^on  him 
His  own  holy  image,  has  been  broken  by  every 
child  of  Adam  times  without  number,  and  now  its 
awful  voice  may  be  heard  proclaiming,  "  cursed  is 
every  one  who  continueth  not  in  all  things  written 
in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them" — "  death  is 
the  wages  of  sin" — ^perish  the  sinner,  perish  the 
whole  guilty  race  of  man,  rather  than  that  the  law 
they  have  violated,  a  law  so  holy,  just,  and  good, 
should  be  dishonoured  or  annulled.  Sooner  shall 
heaven  and  earth  j)ass  away  than  one  jot  or  tittle 
of  it  be  changed.  But,  blessed  be  God,  there  is 
another  and  still  louder  voice,  its  tones  sweeter  than 
the  sweetest  melodies  of  ano^els,  echoins^  and  re- 
echoing  perpetually  even  in  this  world  into  which 
sin  entered  and  where  death  reigns,  publishing  to 
all  nations,  yea  offering  to  every  creature,  eternal 
14 


202  THE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

life  as  the  free  gift  of  God.  It  is  the  voice  of  Him, 
who  though  the  "b  Tightness  of  the  Father's  glory 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  came  down 
from  heaven,  appeared  on  earth  in  the  likeness  of 
sinful  flesh,  was  made  under  the  law,  that  he  might 
"  magnify  it  and  make  it  honourable"  by  his  own 
perfect  obedience,  and  by  the  shedding  of  his  own 
precious  blood.  Now,  the  preparation  which  we 
are  required  to  make,  consists  in  the  exercise  "of 
repentance  towards  God  and  faith  towards  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The  first  and  great  command 
of  the  Gospel  is — "Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." — "  He  bore  our 
sins  in  His  own  body." — "  He  died  the  just  for  the 
unjust."  The  curse  which  the  law  denounces 
against  all  who  break  it,  He  has  endured  in  our 
room.  This  atoning  work  of  Jesus  in  the  place  of 
the  sinner  forms  the  grand  theme  of  revelation, 
and  hence  the  very  Gosj)el  which  unfolds  the  infini- 
tude of  God's  love  and  mercy,  at  the  same  time  fur- 
nishes the  universe  with  a  proof  the  most  convinc- 
ing and  appalling,  that  "  He  can  by  no  means 
clear  the  guilty,"  in  the  way  of  arbitrarily  setting 
aside,  or  of  modifying  in  any  manner  the  demands 
of  His  own  I'ighteous  law.  The  very  Gospel, 
which  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light,  empha- 
tically proclaims  that  sin  andsufi'ering  are  conjoined 
by  a  law  immutable  as  the  eternal  throne.  My 
dear  hearer,  it  is  surely  needless  for  me  to  bring 
arguments  to  substantiate  the  charge  that  you  are 
a  sinner  against  God.  Your  own  conscience  con- 
fesses it,  "  your  own  heart  condemns"  you.     Well, 


D.D.  203 

this  word  of  Him  wlio  cannot  lie  tells  yon,  in 
terms  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood,  tliat  perish 
you  must,  forever,  unless  saved  through  the  right- 
eousness and  atonement  of  the  Son  of  God,  "  Hea- 
ven and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  one  jot  or  tittle 
of  the  law  cannot  ftiil." 

Let  me,  m  conclusion,  add  as  a  word  of  warning, 
that  the  instrument  with  which  the  devil  most 
successfully  assails  the  young  and  the  old,  is  scej^ti- 
cism  in  regard  to  the  momentous  truth  taught  in 
the  text.  This  is  his  grand  temptation  and  was 
the  weapon  with  which  he  gained  his  dismal 
triumph  over  the  common  mother  of  our  race. 
"  Why  not  eat  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,"  he  asked, 
"  that  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  garden — its  form 
so  beautiful  to  the  sight,  its  fruit  so  sweet  to  the 
taste  ?"  "  I  am  under  a  law,"  replied  Eve,  "  that 
forbids  me  to  touch  it,  and  it  is  enforced  by  the 
awful  penalty  of  death."  "But  surely,"  rejoined 
the  tempter,  "you  must  have  misapprehended  the 
meaning  of  your  Maker ;  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  He  will  ever  inflict  upon  you  a  punishment  so 
dreadful  for  an  offence  so  trifling."  Alas  !  "  She 
took,  she  ate,  earth  felt  the  wound,  and  Nature 
from  her  seat  sighing,  gave  signs  of  woe  that  all 
was  lost." 

Precisely  so  does  the  same  "  father  of  lies  "  de- 
ceive the  youth  with  reference  to  the  connection 
that  subsists  between  the  spring  tide  and  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  our  present  life.  He  who 
is  old  enough  to  understand  any  thing,  however 
inconsiderate  of  the  personal  bearing  of  the  truth. 


204  THE     PEIISrCETON      PULPIT. 

knows  perfectly  well  that  lie  must  sow  tlie  seed 
if  lie  would  reap  the  harvest.     Reason  teaches  him 
the  lesson;  the  revolving  seasons  ever  and  anon 
remind  him  of  it ;  while  the  blessed  Bible,  as  often 
as  he  reads  or  listens  to  it,  proclaims  it  with  the 
majesty  and  earnestness  of  a  messenger  from  heaven, 
yet  he  is  perpetually  forgetting  it,  and  living  as  if 
the  present  had  not  the  slightest  influence  upon 
the  future.     I  will  venture  to  aver  that,  among  the 
youth  now  before  me,  hardly  one  could  be  found 
who  at  its  entrance  into  college  did  not  firmly 
resolve  to  win  for  himself  the  highest  honours  of  the 
institution;  who  as  he  for  the  first  time  came  in 
sio'ht  of  these    academic   halls   did   not   feel  the 
stirrings  of  ambition,  and  whisper,  at  least  to  his 
own  heart,  the  purpose  to  gain  a  standing  in  the 
highest  ranks  of  scholarship.     For  a  while  the  reso- 
lution tells  with  excellent  eflect  uj^on  the  habits  of 
the  student ;  but  ere  long  something  occurs  to  dis- 
courage or  divert  him  from  his  aim.     He  yields  to 
the  temptation ;  he  loses  a  little  ground ;  unless  he 
be  a  young  man  of  rare  energy  and  resolute  will  he 
goes  more  and  more  behind,  though  still  unwilling 
perhaps  to  abandon  his  early  and  fond  hope.     "  It 
is  a  long  time  yet  before  I  reach  the  end  of  the 
course,"  he  may  say  to  himself,  "  something  may 
yet  turn  up  and  enable  me  to  make  good  what  I 
have  lost."     He   knows   not,   and  possibly  never 
learns  until  it  be  too  late,  that  he  is  listening  to  a 
syren  voice  which  has  lured  myriads  to  ruin,  or 
lulled  them  into  the  sleep  of  death.     What,  let  me 
ask,  would  be  the  use  of  college  life,  what   the 


JOHN     F  O  R  SYTir  ,    D  .  D.  205 

benefit  of  college  culture,  if  tlie  haLitually  indolent 
and  the  dissipated,  by  tlie  spasmodic  efforts  of  a 
few  days  or  weeks,  could  reach  the  same  lofty  posi- 
tion for  which  the  studious  and  the  good  have  toiled 
for  years  ?  if,  in  a  word,  there  was  no  law  that  con- 
nected success  with  diligence,  thorough  scholarship 
with  painstaking  study,  the  complete  command 
of  one's  powers  with  elaborate  culture,  and  moral 
influence  with  well  tried  virtue ! 

And  thus  it  is  that  Satan  misleads  and  ruins  the 
old  and  the  young  for  eternity  as  well  as  for  time. 
There  is  a  law  demanding  their  obedience ;  a  com- 
mandment which  "  is  exceeding  broad,"  reaching 
to  the  "  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart,"  as  well 
as  the  words  and  actions  of  the  outward  man,  and 
regulating  all  the  manifold  relations  of  life.  It  is 
enforced  by  the  most  fearful  penalty,  for  it  declares 
that  the  wages  of  sin  is  death.  Eternal  life  is  sus- 
pended upon  a  full  compliance  with  its  demands 
And  yet  there  are  multitudes  who,  though  they 
cannot  but  know  from  the  teachings  of  God's  word, 
and  the  working  of  their  own  consciences,  that 
they  are  "  condemned  already,"  and  are  every 
moment  liable  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  liviuir 
and  sin-avenging  God,  allow  themselves  to  be 
beguiled  into  the  belief  that  they  shall  somehow 
escape.  Eternity,  they  imagine,  is  a  great  way  off ; 
there  is  a  long  future  before  them,  and  though  they 
live  in  sin,  something  may  turn  up  to  save  them 
from  hell.  Thus  a  deceived  heart  leads  them 
astray,  inducing  them  to  act  as  if  they  had  made  a 
covenant  with  death ;  and  thus  they  go  on  through 


206  THE     PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

life,  never  dreaming  that  tliey  are  treasuring  np 
unto  tliemselves  wratli  against  tlie  day  of  judg- 
ment, because  tliey  will  not  listen  to  the  warning 
voice  which  is  perpetually  sounding  in  their  ears, 
"  Heaven  and  earth  may  pass  away,  but  one  jot  or 
tittle  of  the  law  shall  not  fail." 


THE   WORK   OF    GOD. 


THE  REV.  J.  ADDISON  ALEXANDER,  D.D. 


PROFESS  on    IN    THK    THKOLOGICAL    SEMINARY. 


"Then  saiil  they  unto  Him,  What  shall  we  do  that  we  might  work  the 
works  of  God  ?  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  them.  This  is  the  work  of 
God,  that  ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent." — John  vi.  38,  29. 

There  was  iiotliiDg  peculiar  in  the  circumstances 
under  wliich  tliis  question  was  originally  asked  and 
answered ;  ;tliat  is,  notliing  so  peculiar  as  to  make 
it  less  appropriate  in  a  multitude  of  other  cases. 
It  is  one  which  may  be  asked  at  any  time  and  in 
any  place.  It  is  one  which  is  asked,  more  or  less 
distinctly,  more  or  less  earnestly,  in  every  country 
and  in  every  age.  Some  ask  it  listlessly,  as  if  they 
cared  not  for  an  answer.  Some  ask  it  with  an 
agonizing  eagerness  of  importunity,  as  if  their  life 
dej^ended  on  the  answer.  And  between  these  there 
are  many  intermediate  gradations.  But  whether 
whispered  or  shouted,  shrieked  or  muttered,  whe- 
ther clothed  in  language  or  exj^ressed  in  act,  this 
question  is  still  asked  by  men  of  all  conditions  and 
all  characters :  "  What  shall  we  do  that  we  may 
work  the  works  of  God,"  i.  <?.,  the  works  which  He 
requires  and  will  accept,  as  means  of  reconciliation 
or  as  titles  to  his  favour  ? 


208  THE    PRIISr  GET  ON     PULPIT. 

There  is  much  imj^lied  or  presupposed  in  this 
momentous  question.  It  assumes  the  being  of 
a  God  and  one  God,  and  of  certain  attributes  es- 
sential to  His  nature.  However  false  the  no- 
tions entertained  as  to  some  of  these,  whoever 
really  believes  in  the  existence  of  a  God,  must 
believe  that  he  is  just  as  well  as  merciful,  holy 
and  true  as  well  as  almighty  and  all- wise.  The  ques- 
tion also  takes  for  granted  God's  supremacy  and 
sovereign  propriety  in  all  his  creatures,  and  their 
dependence  upon  him  for  happiness,  as  well  in  this 
life  as  in  that  which  is  to  come.  It  may  also  be 
said,  tacitly,  to  take  for  granted  the  existence  of 
some  alienation  between  God  and  man,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  something  to  conciliate  the  parties.  The 
very  asking  of  the  question  implies  ignorance  of 
what  will  please  God  ;  and  this  ignorance  implies  a 
state  of  alienation  from  Him.  For  a  creature  in  actual 
communion  with  his  Maker  must  know  what  is  due 
to  him  and  required  by  him.  We  cannot  conceive 
of  unfallen  angels  asking,  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
Jews  asked,  "  What  shall  we  do  that  we  may  work 
the  works  of  God  V 

As  to  all  these  points,  the  views  of  men  in- 
definitely vary  in  clearness  and  correctness.  And 
from  this  variety  arises  a  corresponding  differ- 
ence in  the  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  the  in- 
quiry. But,  excepting  those  who  are  in  the 
lowest  stage  of  ignorance  or  insensibility,  it 
may  be  said  without  extravagance,  that  all  men, 
everywhere,  desire  to  know,  and  show  by  their  ac- 
tions or  their  words  that  they  desire  to  know,  what 


J.    A.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  209 

they  must  do  to  work  the  works  of  God,  to  gain 
His  favour,  to  avert  His  wrath.  Why  do  the 
worst  of  meu  abstain  from  some  forms  of  iniquity  ? 
In  obedience  to  the  voice  of  conscience  ?  Why  this 
voice  is  but  a  feeble  echo  of  the  voice  of  God, 
often  so  faint,  or  so  confused,  as  to  bear  a  very 
sli2;ht  resemblance  to  the  ori2:inal  authoritative 
utterance.  But  where  it  speaks  at  all,  it  speaks  of 
a  law  and  a  lawgiver,  of  a  judgment,  and  of  future 
retribution.  And  the  wicked  man,  who  is  deterred 
by  conscience  from  some  sins  though  not  from 
others,  goes  just  so  far  in  endeavouring  to  work  the 
works  of  God,  or  at  least  in  asking,  "  A'VTiat  shall  I 
do  that  I  may  work  the  works  of  God  V 

But  there  are  other  ways  in  which  the  stress  of 
this  necessity  is  much  more  visibly  betrayed  than  in 
the  mere  degrees  of  restraint  or  indulgence  on  the 
part  of  sinful  men.  They  not  only  ask,  in  word  or 
deed,  what  they  must  do  to  work  the  works  of 
God,  but  they  actually  undertake  to  work  them, 
according  to  their  various  ideas  as  to  what  they 
are,  and  how  they  must  be  wrought.  A  rapid 
glance  at  some  of  these  attempts  will  throw  light 
on  the  question  of  the  text,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
prepare  us  for  the  answer.  One  man  imagines  that 
the  works  of  God  are  works  to  be  performed  by 
the  members  of  the  body,  the  hands,  the  knees,  the 
lips ;  a  pi-ayer,  a  genuflexion,  an  oblation,  in  and 
of  themselves,  by  some  intrinsic  efficacy  of  their 
own,  or  magical  eifect  wrought  by  them,  he  sup- 
poses will  secure  the  divine  favour  and  his  own 
salvation.     This  error  certainly  prevails  most  ex- 


210  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

tensively  among  the  lioatlien.  But  it  also  exists 
among  Mohammedans  and  Jews,  and  under  the 
corrupted  forms  of  Christianity,  and  even  in  con- 
nexion with  its  purest  forms,  where  outward  ser- 
vices, no  matter  what,  are  once  confounded  with 
the  essence  of  reliofion.  And  where  the  error 
thus  exists,  it  is  of  course  far  more  culpable  and 
far  more  ruinous,  than  where  it  nestles  in  the  dark, 
or  gropes  its  way  in  twilight.  But  wherever  found, 
it  always  tends  to  one  of  two  results.  The  man 
who  cherishes  it  is  either  blinded  to  his  own  de- 
struction, and  goes  down  to  death  with  a  lie  in  his 
right  hand,  or  he  is  forced  by  experience  to  own, 
that  he  has  not  found  what  he  sought,  and  to  turn 
away  from  the  externals  which  have  proved  so  un- 
satisfying, still  saying,  as  he  said  at  first,  but  with 
a  sense  of  want,  made  more  intense  by  tantalizing 
disappointment :  "  What  shall  I  do,  that  I  may 
work  the  works  of  God  ?" 

The  next  stage  which  he  reaches,  and  which 
others  more  enlightened  reach  at  once,  without 
passing  through  this  preparatory  discipline,  is  that 
of  substituting  moral  for  ceremonial  acts.  The 
sinner  undertakes  to  work  the  works  of  God  by 
acts  of  virtue,  doing  right  and  doing  good,  and 
more  especially  by  practising  such  acts  of  virtue 
as  are  likely  to  secure  the  sympathy  of  men,  and 
thus  confirm  his  favourable  estimate  of  his  own 
performances,  which  might  otherwise  be  marred  by 
an  unquiet  conscience.  Hence  the  constant  dispo- 
sition to  make  social  charities,  not  only  almsgiving, 
but  every  other  exercise  of  mutual  benevolence, 


J.     A.     ALEXANDEK,     D.D.  211 

tlie  supreme  if  not  the  sole  test  of  character. 
Heuce  the  frequency  with  which  we  hear  of  men, 
who  are  notoriously  guilty  of  great  sins,  but 
who  are  nevertheless  rated,  by  themselves  and 
others,  as  a  kind  of  irreligious  saints,  on  account  of 
what  is  called  their  goodness  of  heart,  a  quality 
not  always  incompatible  with  gross  injustice  and 
habitual  neglect  of  the  most  urgent  duties,  even  to- 
wards their  neighbours,  as  well  as  with  a  total  want 
of  love  to  God  and  of  obedience  to  His  will.  In 
this  delusion  thousands  live  and  die.  But  others 
are  still  goaded  on  by  conscience  to  a  fresh  disco- 
very that  even  this  is  not  enough.  The  applauses 
of  the  world  cannot  prevent  their  seeing  that  how- 
ever good  their  works  may  be  in  one  sense,  they 
are  wholly  insufficient  in  another;  and  they  there- 
fore come  once  more  with  the  unsatisfied  inquiry 
on  their  lips,  or  in  their  hearts,  and  in  their  looks : 
"  What  shall  we  do,  that  we  may  work  the  works 
of  God  ?"  We  have  tried  to  do  right  and  to  do 
good  to  our  neighbours.  But  we  find  that  even 
these  good  works  are  still  imperfect,  and  that  other 
duties  have  been  utterly  neglected,  and  that  sins 
have  been  committed,  and  that  all  these  arrears 
have  been  accumulating  with  a  terrible  rapidity,  so 
that  the  good  we  have  attempted  shrinks  to  noth- 
ing in  comparison  with  that  which  we  have  left  un- 
done, and  with  the  positive  evil  which  we  have 
committed.  With  all  this  staring  us  in  the  face, 
and  stopping  up  our  path,  in  which  direction  shall 
we  turn  ?  With  this  sense  of  deficiency,  even  in 
our  best  deeds,  and  this  consciousness  of  positive 


212  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

transgression,   "  what   shall   we  do   that  we  may 
work  the  works  of  God  ?" 

The  man  has  now  been  brought,  by  a  way  that 
he   knew  not,  to  the  doctrine   of  atonement,   the 
necessity  of  expiation,  something  to  satisfy  God's 
justice  and  to  heal  the  breach  of  his  broken  law. 
With  this  predominant  imj)ression,  he  may  readily 
infer,  that  the  works  of  God  are  works  of  compen- 
sation.    He  must  make  good  his  past  failures,  and 
make  up  for  past  offences,  and  by  so  doing  work 
the  works  of  God  at  last.     But  where  shall  he  be- 
gin ?     Perhaps  with  negative  attempts  at  reforma- 
tion, by  refraining  from   sins   hitherto   indulged. 
The  unexpected  difficulty  here  encountered  drives 
him  from  reformation  to  repentance.     He  will  weep 
with  unfeigned  sorrow  over  his  oifences.     He  will 
break  his  own  heart  with  contrition,  and  move  the 
heart  of  God  with  pity,  by  his  penitential  grief.  But 
the  same  imj)erfection  which  had  marred  his  refor- 
mation still  adheres  to  his  repentance.    If  sin  could 
only  be  excluded  for  a  moment,  he  might  do  it. 
But  the  sin  that  he  has  reason  to  repent  of  is  not 
merely  in  his  life,  but  in  his  heart,  his  very  nature. 
Its  action  cannot  be  suspended  any  more  than  his 
existence,  by  an  act  of  his  own  will.     It  will  in- 
trude into  the  pangs  of  his  repentance  and  pervert 
them.     He  can  no  more  break  his  heart  than  he 
can  change  his  life.     The  one  still  remains  hard, 
and  the  other  still  corrupt.     His  repentance  needs 
itself  to  be  reformed  ;  his  reformation  needs  itself 
to   be  repented  of.     So  far  from  satisfying  God's 
offended  justice  for  past  sins,  they  are  themselves 


J.     A.      ALEXANDEE,     D.D.  213 

provocative  of  that  very  justice ;  and  the  sinner 
al)andoning  this  effort  too,  asks,  almost  in  despair : 
What  shall  I  do,  that  I  may  work  the  works  of 
God. 

What  has  just  been  described  may  be  regarded 
as  the  highest  ground  that  man  ever  reaches  by 
a  light  of  his  own  kindling.  If  he  goes  beyond 
this,  under  the  same  guidance,  he  must  needs  go 
down.  And  some  accordingly  descend  from  the 
sincere  but  vain  attempt  at  reformation  and  repent- 
ance in  their  own  strength,  to  the  lower  ground  of 
meritorious  abstinence  and  self-mortification,  from 
repentance  to  penance,  from  the  humbling  of  the 
soul  to  the  humbling  of  the  body,  from  inward 
grief  to  sackcloth  and  ashes,  from  vain  attempts 
to  abstain  from  what  is  evil,  to  real  abstinence  from 
what  is  not.  Because  they  have  not  been  able  to 
appease  God  by  renounciug  sinful  pleasures,  they 
will  now  try  to  do  it  by  renouncing  innocent  enjoy- 
ments. Because  they  have  tried  in  vain  to  do  what 
he  commanded,  they  will  now  retrieve  the  failure 
by  doing  what  is  not  commanded  at  all.  Here  is 
the  secret  of  that  comj)licated  system  of  will-wor- 
ship and  voluntary  humility,  which  is  continually 
slaying  its  thousands  and  its  tens  of  thousands, 
while  a  few  are  driven  by  it  to  repeat  the  question, 
still  unanswered  in  their  own  experience :  What 
shall  we  do  that  we  may  work  the  works  of  God  ? 

Another  descent,  quite  as  great,  though  in  a 
difierent  direction,  leads  to  a  kind  of  desperate 
transfer  of  responsibility.  As  the  sinner  cannot 
work  the   works  of   God  himself,  the  church  or 


214  THE     PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

the  priest  sliall  do  it  for  liim.  He  remains  qui- 
escent, and  endeavours  to  be  satisfied  with  his  reli- 
gious privileges  or  his  ecclesiastical  connexions. 
He  persuades  himself  that  he  is  like  the  cripple  at 
Bethesda,  waiting  for  the  troubling  of  the  waters. 
He  cannot  do  the  angel's  work ;  it  is  enough  if  he 
is  there  to  profit  by  it.  This  indolent  reliance 
u23on  some  one  else  to  do  what  the  man  himself  has 
tried  in  vain,  is  far  more  common,  even  in  the 
purest  churches,  than  we  may  imagine.  It  is  in 
fact  a  kind  of  misplaced  faith.  The  self-renuncia- 
tion and  reliance  on  another,  which  it  involves, 
would  be  effectual  if  exercised  upon  the  proper 
object.  But  when  men  cease  theii*  self-righteous 
eftbi-ts,  only  to  trust  in  their  connexions  and  ad- 
vantages, only  to  think  that  they  are  safe  because 
they  are  within  the  church  and  in  jDOSsession  of  the 
gospel,  the  error  is  so  monstrous  and  yet  so  insidi- 
ous, that  nothing  but  the  sovereign  grace  of  God 
could  rouse  some,  as  it  does  continually,  even  from 
this  stagnant,  nay  this  petrified  condition,  to  in- 
quire with  more  solicitude  than  ever.  What  shall 
we  do,  that  we  may  work  the  works  of  God  ? 

There  is  no  need  of  insisting,  or  attempting  to 
demonstrate,  that  these  various  degrees  and  forms 
of  error  always  follow  one  another  in  the  actual 
experience  of  a  single  person.  The  connexion 
pointed  out  between  them  may  be  rather  theoret- 
ical than  practical.  It  is  not,  however,  for  that 
reason  the  less  real,  being  founded  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  human  nature,  and  the  mutual  relations 
both  of  truth  and  error.     Sometimes,  moreover, 


D.D.  215 

tlie  transitions  are  realized  in  actual  experience. 
To  one  man  more,  to  another  less,  of  wliat  has  now 
been  described  must  be  confirmed  by  memory  as  a 
part  of  his  own  spiritual  history.  In  one  or  an- 
other, or  in  several,  or  in  all,  of  the  ways  enumer- 
ated, some  of  you,  my  hearers,  may  have  been  in- 
duced to  ask  with  growing  earnestness  and  impor- 
tunity :  What  shall  we  do  that  we  may  work  the 
works  of  God  ? 

Come  then  with  me  to  the  only  oracle,  from 
which  a  satisfactory  response  can  be  expected. 
Come  to  Him,  to  whom  the  Jews  put  the  same 
question  of  old,  and  receive  from  Him  the  same  re- 
ply. "  Then  said  they  unto  him :  what  shall 
we  do  that  we  might  work  the  works  of  God. 
Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  them :  this  is  the 
work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on  him  whom 
he  hath  sent."  The  whole  j^oint  of  this  answer 
lies  in  the  contrast  been  working  and  believ- 
ing. Their  minds  were  full  of  work.  They  wanted 
something  to  work  out  for  their  own  salvation. 
They  would  probably  not  have  been  surprised  or 
startled  had  he  enjoined  upon  them  any  task,  how- 
ever difficult,  provided  that  by  doing  it  they  might 
have  claimed  to  work  the  works  of  God.  To  a 
truly  self-righteous  spirit,  difficulty,  danger,  pain, 
are  all  inducements  rather  than  dissuasives.  They 
enhance  the  merit  and  the  honour  of  success,  and 
therefore  stimulate  the  pride  of  the  performer. 
This  has  often  been  exemplified  in  the  extraordi- 
nary abstinences,  toils,  and  self-inflicted  torments, 
both  of  Christian  and  heathen  devotees.     And  the 


216  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

same  cause  miglit  doubtless  Lave  produced  the 
same  effects  iij)on  some  of  our  Lord's  contempo- 
raries. Had  lie  required  tliem  to  scale  the  lieaveus 
or  to  sound  the  seas,  they  miglit  have  vainly  under- 
taken it.  Had  he  told  them  to  lacerate  tlieir  flesh, 
or  to  give  the  fruit  of  their  body  for  the  sin  of  their 
souls,  th.ey  might  have  obeyed  without  a  murmur, 
But  a  requisition  to  believe,  and  to  believe  on 
him,  was  something  altogether  different.  The 
belief  required  comprebended  a  belief  of  his  di- 
vine legation  and  authority  as  well  as  a  belief  of 
his  ability  and  willingness  to  save.  But  it  likewise 
comprehended,  as  inseparable  from  these,  a  simple 
trust  in  him  for  personal  salvation,  and  a  free  and 
full  consent  to  be  saved  by  him.  The  complexity 
sometimes  charged  upon  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
faith  is  not  greater  than  exists  in  any  analogous  or 
corresponding  case.  Tell  the  drowning  man  to  be 
of  good  cheer  for  you  will  save  him,  and  you  call 
upon  him  to  perform  as  many  acts  as  are  included 
in  the  exercise  of  saving  faith.  For  in  the  first 
place,  you  invite  him  to  believe  the  truth  of  your 
assertions.  In  the  next  place,  you  invite  him  to 
confide  in  your  ability  and  willingness  to  save  him. 
In  the  last  place,  you  invite  him  to  consent  to  your 
proposal  by  renouncing  every  other  ho2:)e  and  agree- 
ing to  be  saved  by  you.  There  is  nothing  more 
abstruse  or  diflicult  in  saving  faith.  The  difference 
is  not  in  the  essential  nature  of  the  mental  acts  and 
exercises,  but  in  the  circumstances  under  w^hich  they 
are  performed. 

It  was  this  very  simple   and  implicit  trust,  how- 


J.     A.      ALEXANDER,    D.D.  217 

ever,  that  created  all  tlie  difficulty  in  the  miuds  of 
some  of  Christ's  immediate  hearers.  They  had 
emphatically  asked  for  work,  for  something  to  be 
wrought  out  by  themselves,  and  in  reply  he  told 
them  to  believe,  to  trust ;  and  that  not  as  some- 
thing over  and  above  the  works  which  they  de- 
manded, but  instead  of  them.  He  does  not  say, 
before  or  besides  the  works  of  God  which  you  de- 
manded, you  must  believe  on  me.  He  says,  "  This 
is  itself  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on  him 
whom  he  hath  sent." 

The  same  feeling  of  surprise  and  sense  of  incon- 
gruity may  be  excited  now  by  this  reply  to  the  de- 
mand in  question.  In  answer  to  a  call  for  work,  no 
matter  how  hard,  nay  the  harder  the  better,  to  say, 
trust,  believe,  may  look  at  first  like  an  evasion  or 
a  mockery.  And  men  may  even  now  be  slow  to 
understand,  and  still  more  slow  to  credit,  this  ex- 
traordinary substitute  for  meritorious  and  labori- 
ous work,  as  a  serious  proposition,  and  indeed  the 
only  revealed  method  of  salvation.  It  seems  to 
cast  unmerited  contempt  upon  the  eiforts  men  have 
made,  or  are  willing  now  to  make,  in  their  own 
strength,  and  as  it  were,  at  their  own  cost  and  risk. 
Is  all  this  ex]3enditure  of  time  and  labour  to  be 
slighted  and  contemptuously  thrown  away  ?  Are  all 
these  tears  and  groans  and  fasts  and  vigils,  all  this 
blood  and  all  this  treasure,  all  this  doing  and  alj- 
staining,  all  this  action  and  this  suffering,  to  go  for 
nothing  ?  After  spending  a  whole  lifetime  in  thus 
working  out  my  own  salvation  for  myself,  must  I 
be  told  at  last  that  I  have  only  to  believe  ? 
15 


218  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

This  state  of  mind  may  be  compared  to  tliat  of 
men  who  have  been  shut  up  for  years  in  a  dark 
dungeon,  and  by  incredible  exertion,  slow  and  secret 
toils,  have  pierced,  as  they  supposed,  the  massive 
walls  of  their  prison.  The  assiduity  and  constancy, 
with  which  such  labours  may  be  plied  through  a 
long  course  of  years,  have  often  been  exemplified 
in  real  life.  The  eagerness  with  which  the  oppor- 
tunity is  watched,  the  ingenious  devices  to  elude 
suspicioli,  and  the  still  more  ingenious  substitutes 
for  ordinary  means  and  instruments,  the  unwearied 
patience  with  which  the  work  has  been  resumed 
and  even  recommenced  when  interrupted,  and  the 
feverish  anxiety  with  which  the  moment  of  com- 
plete success  is  supposed  to  be  approaching ;  all 
these  are  familiar  facts  in  the  biography  of  more 
than  one  famous  captive,  as  recorded  by  themselves. 
But  suppose  that  at  one  of  these  critical  conjunc- 
tures, when  the  almost  superhuman  toil  of  many 
years  seems  about  to  be  rewarded  by  success,  a 
stranger  suddenly  appears  among  the  disconcerted 
labourers  and  commands  them  to  desist  and  trust 
in  him  alone  for  freedom.  It  is  easy  to  imagine 
the  suspicion  with  which  such  a  call  would  be  re- 
ceived, and  the  demand  for  evidence,  like  that 
made  by  the  Jews  on  hearing  the  unexpected  words 
of  the  text.  "  They  said  therefore  unto  him :  What 
sign  showest  thou  then,  that  we  may  see  and  be- 
lieve thee?  what  dost  thou  work?"  And  even 
after  their  misgiving,  in  the  case  which  I  have  been 
supposing,  was  allayed  by  a  sufficient  attestation, 
it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  the  startled  prisoners 


J.     A.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  219 

miglit  look  with  some  regret  upon  tlieir  imple- 
ments of  labour,  and  the  patient  toil  of  many  years, 
now  superseded  and  made  useless.  For  a  mo- 
ment, we  may  even  go  so  far  as  to  conceive  of 
some  as  balancing  between  the  unexpected  offer  of 
immediate  liberation,  and  the  toilsome  method  of 
obtaining  it  to  which  they  have  become  accustom- 
ed by  long  habit.  But  beyond  this  momentary  he- 
sitation, it  is  inconceivable  that  any  one  should  go 
in  his  rejection  of  the  offered  freedom,  unless  stu- 
pified  and  maddened  by  captivity.  When  the  mo- 
ment of  decision  comes,  we  may  expect  to  see  them 
all,  without  fail  and  without  regret,  turning  their 
back  upon  the  toils  of  many  years,  and  joyfully 
following  their  new  deliverer  to  the  fresh  air  and 
the  sunshine  of  the  world  without. 

In  like  manner,  they  who  have  long  been 
subjected  to  the  bondage  of  corruption,  and 
have  toiled  in  vain  to  set  themselves  at  liberty, 
when  first  made  to  hear  and  understand  the  de- 
claration, that  the  saving  work  which  God  re- 
quires of  them  is  to  trust  in  Jesus  Christ  whom 
He  has  sent,  may  feel  unwilling  to  abandon  their 
long-cherished  plans  and  methods  of  self-righteous- 
ness. But  this  reluctance  soon  subsides,  and  they 
address  themselves  to  the  consideration  of  the 
question,  what  is  meant  by  calling  faith  in  Christ 
the  work  of  God,  which  men  must  do  in  order  to 
appease  His  wrath  and  conciliate  his  favour?  At 
first,  perhaps,  they  may  imagine,  as  indeed  some 
have  expressly  taught,  that  the  act  of  thus  be- 
lieving is  accepted  as  a  meritorious  act  in  lieu  of 


220  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

all  tlie  rest,  so  that  he  wlio  performs  this  work  is 
considered  as  performing  all  the  other  "  works  of 
God."  In  this  sense  some  have  understood  our 
Saviour's  saying :  "  This  is  the  work  of  God,  that 
ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent."  That  is 
to  say,  this  act  is  so  acceptable  to  God,  that  for  the 
sake  of  it  he  will  relinquish  all  his  other  claims, 
and  reckon  you  as  innocent  or  righteous.  But 
how  can  this  be  reconciled  with  truth  and  God's 
inexorable  justice  ?  How  can  any  one  act  of  a  sin- 
ner, all  whose  other  acts  are  sinful,  be  not  only  free 
from  sin  but  so  peculiarly  acceptaljle  to  God  as  to 
supply  the  place  of  jierfect  and  perpetual  obedi- 
ence ?  If  it  be  said,  that  faith  has  no  such  merit 
in  itself,  but  God  is  pleased,  in  sovereign  condescen- 
sion, so  to  estimate  it  and  reward  it ;  then  the  ques- 
tion arises,  why  even  this  should  be  required.  For 
if  God  can  by  a  sovereign  act  forgive  all  men's 
offences,  for  the  sake  of  this  one  deed,  he  might 
forgive  them  without  any  such  condition,  and  the 
death  of  Christ  becomes  a  cruel  superfluity.  The 
faith  which  he  describes  as  the  saving  "  work  of 
God,"  is  faith  in  Himself  as  a  Saviour  and  a  sacri- 
fice. The  meritorious  ground  of  acceptance,  there- 
fore, cannot  l)e  the  act  of  believing,  but  must  be 
something  in  the  thing  believed.  Unless  the  death 
of  Christ  be  utterly  unmeaning  and  inefficacious,  it 
is  inconceivable  that  the  mere  act  of  believing  is  a 
meritorious  substitute  for  all  the  other  acts  which 
might  have  been  demanded  of  the  sinner. 

From  this  over-estimate  of  human  merit  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  faith,  men  sometimes  run  into  the  opposite 


J.     A.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  221 

extreme,  and  liold  tliatsimi^le  trust  or  faith  in  Christ 
dispenses  with  all  moral  obligation.  They  admit 
that  the  sinner  has  no  merit,  but  deny  that  he 
has  need  of  any,  either  another's  or  his  own,  to  re- 
commend him  to  God's  favour.  The  divine  mercy 
to  our  lost  race  they  consider  as  consisting  in  the 
nullification  of  the  law  and  its  demands.  Faith  is 
a  saving  act,  not  because  of  any  merit  in  it,  but  be- 
cause it  acquiesces  in  the  divine  renunciation  of  all 
claim  upon  men's  hearts  or  lives.  It  is  a  mere  con- 
sent to  do  nothing  or  to  do  as  they  please,  and  a 
belief  that  God  will  exact  nothing  of  them  and  ex- 
pect nothing  from  them.  When  Christ  says,  there- 
fore, "  this  is  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on 
Ilim  whom  He  hath  sent,"  it  is  equivalent  to  say- 
ing, there  is  no  work  to  be  done,  and  you  have  only 
to  believe  that  there  is  none,  in  order  to  be  saved. 
Now  all  this,  I  need  scarcely  say,  is  utterly  at  vari- 
ance with  the  constant  requisition  of  obedience, 
even  from  believers,  and  the  uniform  teaching  of 
the  Scripture,  that  "  without  holiness  no  man  can 
see  the  Lord."  This  last  erroneous  view  is  the 
more  dangerous  because,  irrational  as  it  may  seem, 
it  is  really  a  counterfeit  or  caricature  of  the  true 
doctrine.  It  is  right  in  representing  faith  in  Christ, 
not  as  a  meritorious  act  suppljdng  all  deficiencies, 
but  as  a  mere  reception  of  God's  mercy,  offered  and 
exercised  in  Christ  alone.  It  is  only  wrong, 
fatally  and  ruinously  wrong,  in  representing  a 
the  object  of  their  faith  a  sheer  renunciation  of 
God's  claims  on  man's  obedience,  both  in  reference 
to  the  past  and  future,  so  that  no  atonement  is  re- 


222  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

quired  for  one,  and  no  reform  or  new  obedience  for 
the  other.  The  inevitable  tendency  of  such  a  doc- 
trine is  to  "  go  on  in  sin  that  grace  may  abound." 
It  is  the  doctrine  of  those  who,  as  much  as  in  them 
lies,  make  Christ  the  minister  of  sin  ;  the  language 
of  whose  hearts  and  lives  is,  "  let  us  do  evil  that 
good  may  come;"  of  whom  we  may,  without  a 
breach  of  charity,  repeat  the  apostolical  anathema, 
"  whose  damnation  is  just."  It  is  surely  not  of 
such  that  we  are  to  learn  the  meaning  of  Christ's 
solemn  declaration :  "  This  is  the  work  of  God, 
that  ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent." 

The  true  meaning  of  the  words,  in  their  obvious  ac- 
ceptation, and  as  interpreted  by  other  Scriptures,  may 
be  briefly  summed  up  under  two  particulars.  The 
first  is,  that  our  access  to  God  and  restoration  to  His 
favour  are  entirely  independent  of  all  merit  or  obe- 
dience upon  our  part.  Neither  the  act  of  faith,  nor 
any  other  act,  nor  all  our  acts  and  abstinences  put 
together,  can  contribute  in  the  least  to  our  accept- 
ance, as  a  meritorious  ground  or  a  procuring  cause. 
The  very  impossibility  of  such  a  purchase  consti- 
tutes the  absolute  necessity  of  Christ's  atoning  sa- 
crifice. The  three  main  facts  of  our  condition  are, 
that  we  are  sinners,  that  our  sins  must  be  atoned 
for,  and  that  we  cannot  atone  for  them.  To  meet 
this  desperate  emergency,  by  doing  what  was  other- 
wise impossible,  God  sent  his  Son  to  take  our  place, 
to  obey  the  law  for  us,  and  bear  its  penalty,  incur- 
red by  previous  transgression.  The  saving  benefit 
of  this  great  substitution  and  atonement  is  freely 
offered  to  us  in  the  Gospel.     Unreserved  accept- 


J.     A.     ALEXANDER,     D.D.  223 

ance  of  it  must  of  course  exclude  all  reliance  upon 
any  merit  of  our  own,  and  on  that  supposed  to  re- 
side in  the  act  of  faith  as  well  as  every  other.   Un- 
reserved acceptance  of  Christ's  merit  and  atone- 
ment, to  the  exclusion  of  all  other,  is  itself  the 
foith  required,  and  since  this  is  all  that  we  are 
called  upon  to  do,  as  the  procuring  cause  of  our  sal- 
vation, that  is,  simply  to  rely  on  Christ,  and  not 
upon  ourselves  or  any  other  creature,  it  is  no  won- 
der that  when  self-righteous  sinners  ask  Him,  "  what 
shall  we  do,  that  we  may  work  the  works  of  God  ?" 
His  answer  was,  and  still  is,  and  still  will  be,  till  the 
day  of  grace  is  past  forever,  "  this  is  the  work  of 
God,  that  ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent/' 
If  this  view  of  the  matter  should  still  seem  to  fa- 
vour antinomian  license,  such  an  impression  is  at 
once  removed  by  looking  at  the  other  particular  re- 
ferred to,  as  essential  to  a  full  disclosure  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Bible  upon  this  momentous  subject.     It 
is  this,  that  if  God,  without  denial  of  himself,  could 
have  forgiven  sin  and  saved  the  sinner,  by  a  sove- 
reign act,  without  requiring  an  atonement,  then  he 
might  have  spared,  and  must  have  spared,  the  un- 
told agonies  endured  by  his  Son.     That  these  were 
not  spared,  is  itself  a  demonstration  that  atonement 
was  absolutely  necessary.     And  this  absolute  ne- 
cessity implies  that  God's  design,  in  saving  man, 
was  not  to  set  aside  the  law,  but  to  magnify  and 
honour  it.     And  this  proof  of  His  purpose,  with 
respect  to  what  is  past,  is  a  sufficient  index  of  His 
will  as  to  the  future,  a  sufficient  proof  that  He  does 
not  save  men  in  sin  but  from  sin,  and  that  when  be- 


224  THE     PRINCETOX     PULPIT. 

lief  in  Clirist  is  represented  as  tlae  saving  work 
which  God  requires,  it  is  not  to  the  exclusion  of 
good  works  in  those  who  shall  be  saved,  but  rather 
as  the  source  from  which  they  are  to  flow,  the  only 
means  by  which  they  can  even  become  possible. 
Whoever  then  would  "  work  the  works  of  God,"  in 
the  most  comprehensive  sense,  must  begin  by  doing 
this,  by  believing  on  his  Son,  and  then  the  rest 
may  be  expected  to  follow,  not  as  conditions  of  sal- 
vation, which  the  faith  itself  has  already  appro- 
priated and  secured,  but  as  the  fragrant  flowers 
and  delicious  fruits  of  that  prolific  seed  which  at 
the  moment  of  believing  was  implanted  in  the 
heart  by  the  almighty  grace  of  God.  To  this,  to 
all  this,  we  are  called  in  every  invitation  of  the 
Gospel.  If,  with  all  this  in  our  view,  we  are  dis- 
posed to  ask,  as  multitudes  have  asked  before,  and 
as  thousands  are  now  asking  all  around  us,  "  what 
shall  we  do,  that  we  may  work  the  works  of  God  ?" 
the  same  Christ  still  stands  ready  to  reply  to  us,  as 
to  the  Jews  of  old,  "  this  is  the  work  of  God,  that 
ye  believe  on  Him  whom  He  hath  sent." 


GOD  THE  GUIDE  OF  HIS  BLIND  PEOPLE. 

BT 

THE   REV.    WM.   E.    SCHENCK, 

PASTOR    OF    THE    FIRST    PRESBYTERIAN    CHURCH. 


"  I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  they  know  not." — Isaiah  xlii.  16. 

True  wisdom  will  confirm  tlie  decision  of  Scrip- 
ture, not  only  as  to  spiritual  things,  but  as  to  all 
things,  w^hen  it  says,  "  If  any  man  tliinketli  that  he 
knoweth  any  things"  i.  e.^  if  he  regard  himself  as  per- 
fect in  knowledge,  "  he  knoweth  nothing  yet  as  he 
ought  to  know."  It  is  only  the  ignorant  man  who 
can  feel  that  he  knows  everything.  And  the  more 
truly  well-informed  an  individual  becomes,  the 
more  ready  is  he  to  confess,  not  only  that  he 
does  not,  but  also  that  he  cannot  know  much. 
Even  as  to  external  objects,  things  which  fall  under 
the  cognizance  of  the  senses,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
we  perfectly  know  them.  The  veriest  child  may 
ask  questions  about  a  straw  or  a  clod  of  earth, 
which  the  wisest  philosopher  would  be  unable  to 
answer.  The  question,  what  is  matter  ?  or  gravi- 
tation ?  or  light  ?  or  heat  ?  or  time  ?  or  space  ?  can- 
not be  answered.  We  know  many  things  about 
their  appearances  and  laws,  but  what  they  are,  no 
man  can  tell.     In  every  blade  of  grass,  and  breath 


226  THE    PEIKCETON    PULPIT. 

of  air,  in  tlie  formation  of  our  own  bodies,  in  tlie 
nature  of  the  animal  life  whicli  we  possess,  in  all 
tilings  around  us  and  within  us,  there  are  myste- 
ries— things  yet  unlearned  by  man.  If  we  look 
forth  upon  the  universe  of  God,  the  little  circle  of 
light  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  is  perceived  to 
be  itself  surrounded  by  an  illimitable  circumference 
of  darkness.  The  most  powerful  optic-glass  helps 
not  so  much  to  perfect  our  knowledge,  as  to  reveal 
to  us  the  vastness  of  our  ignorance.  Hence,  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  who  astonished  the  civilized  world 
by  his  discoveries,  and  whose  name  stands  among 
the  brightest  and  most  imperishable  upon  the  an- 
nals of  all  human  science,  declared,  when  far  in 
the  decline  of  life,  that  "  he  seemed  to  himself  to 
have  been  like  a  child,  picking  here  and  there  a 
pebble  on  the  shore,  while  the  vast  ocean  of  truth 
yet  lay  undiscovered  before  him." 

If  we  pass  from  material  to  spiritual  objects,  we 
are  yet  more  emphatically  ignorant  and  blind. 
Leave  out  of  view  the  teachings  of  God's  word,  and 
what  do  we  know  of  the  spiritual  world?  Can 
we  tell  what  orders  of  intelligences  dwell  there  ? 
or  what  may  be  the  mode  of  their  existence  ?  or 
what  their  moral  character?  or  what  connection 
they  may  have  with  us,  and  what  influence  over 
us  ?  We  must  resort  not  to  the  poet,  but  to  the  in- 
spired writer  to  ascertain  the  fact  that 

Millions  of  spiritual  beings  walk  the  earth 
Unseen,  both  when  we  sleep,  and  when  we  wake. 

We  are  surrounded  by  principalities,  and  powers. 


WILLIAM     E.     SCIIENCK.  227 

and  nnnlstering  spirits,  who  are  ever  active,  for 
weal  or  woe,  iu  influencing  our  conduct,  in  guiding 
our  steps,  in  aiding  to  fix  our  everlasting  destinies. 
Man  does  not  probably  so  much  influence  man ;  the 
friends  and  relatives  and  business  associates,  by 
whom  you  are  each  surrounded  from  day  to  day,  do 
not  prol)ably  exercise  so  much  influence  over  your 
present  conduct  and  everlasting  destiny  as  unseen 
intelligences,  good  and  bad,  are  doing.  Yet  what 
do  we  know  of  them,  save  what  the  Bible  tells  us  ? 
Nothing — absolutely  nothing.  We  walk  amidst 
these  spiritual  beings  as  men  walk  amidst  their 
fellow-men,  when  in  total  darkness  or  in  blindness. 
We  see  them  not — we  know  them  not. 

If  we  look  to  our  own  path  or  progress  in  life, 
(and  it  is  this  fact  more  especially  which  is  assumed 
in  our  text,)  we  find  ourselves  not  at  all  better  in- 
formed concerning  that  which  lies  before  us.  We 
walk  forward  in  the  path  of  life,  as  men  walk  who 
grope  their  way  in  a  strange  road,  step  by  step,  in 
total  blindness.  We  have  no  faculty  of  the  mind 
by  which  we  can  penetrate  the  future,  as  memory 
can  penetrate  the  past.  There  is  a  thick  curtain 
hung  across  our  course,  so  thick  that  the  most  pene- 
trating gaze  can  never  pierce  it,  nor  the  most  saga- 
cious contrivance  ever  rend  it ;  a  curtain  which  re- 
cedes before  us  as  we  advance,  but  only  step  by 
step,  yet  revealing  to  us  at  each  advance,  things 
most  unexpected,  often  most  undesired,  frequently 
most  startling  in  their  nature.  All  human  wisdom 
has  never  yet  devised  a  way  to  ascertain  what  a 
single  day  or  hour  may  bring  forth.     Men  have 


228  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

earnestly  longed  to  know  the  future,  and  have  tried 
to  know  it,  but  without  success.  The  extent  to 
which  astrology  and  fortune-telling  and  similar  im- 
positions have  been  patronised  in  every  age,  shows 
how  eagerly  men  would  know,  if  they  could,  what 
lies  before  them.  But  auguries,  and  omens,  and 
oracles,  and  every  kindred  device,  however  ingeni- 
ously contrived,  and  with  whatever  skill  practised, 
have  failed  to  draw  aside  the  veil  which  hides  futu- 
rity from  sight. 

With  what  truthfulness  therefore  do  the  words 
of  our  text — with  what  truthfulness  does  the  word 
of  God  everywhere,  represent  men — especially  in 
their  natural  state — as  blind ;  as  persons  who  can- 
not see  before  them  the  path  in  which  they  walk, 
but  who  are  also  walking  in  a  new  and  strange 
path ;  a  path  with  which  no  information  to  be  ac- 
quired from  others  can  render  them  familiar. 

Now,  this  view  of  our  situation  may  seem  dark 
and  gloomy.  But  admitting  it  to  be  so,  is  it  less 
true^  because  dark  and  gloomy  ?  We  admit  that  it 
is  to  him  who  is  forsretful  of  his  God  and  unrecon- 
ciled  to  Him,  an  awe-inspiring  glimpse  of  his  pre- 
sent situation.  And  we  would  that  every  forgetter 
of  God  in  this  assembly  might  feel  it  to  be  so. 
How  know  you,  O  man,  O  woman,  whose  pursuits, 
and  plans,  and  pleasures  all  have  reference  to  this 
life,  and  who  art  either  carelessly  or  confidently 
trusting  to  unaided  human  wisdom — how  know  you 
that  3^ou  may  not  be  wanderiug  even  now  in  the 
by-paths  of  error  and  delusion  to  the  ruin  of  your 
soul  ?     How  know  you  that  some  awful  precipice 


WILLIAM    E.     SCIIENCK.  229 

may  not  be  near  at  liaud  across  tlie  very  path  in 
wliicli  you  tread  ?  How  know  you  that  your  foot 
may  not  be  pressing  even  now  the  brink,  so  that  a 
single  step  may  plunge  you  into  the  bottomless  pit  ? 
You  cannot  know  it.  You  are  not  sure  that  this 
very  day  may  not  bring  forth  your  everlasting 
ruin. 

But  the  word  of  God  does  not  more  explicitly 
reveal  to  us  our  ignorance  and  blindness,  than  it 
oiFers  to  us  a  great  and  infallible  guide.  "  I  will 
bring  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  know  not," 
says  Jehovah  himself.  It  is  a  promise,  made,  as  the 
previous  context  shows,  with  a  reference  to  the  Sa- 
viour's coming  and  His  work.  It  is  a  promise  made 
to  the  children  of  God,  in  their  natural  state,  as 
blind  and  ignorant  as  others,  and  exposed  to  the 
same  dangers.  Tliey  should  be  led  in  a  way  that 
they  knew  not.  Their  course  should  be  one  that 
was  not  of  their  own  choosing.  And  it  was  to  be 
a  course  at  every  stage  and  turn  unexpected  and 
surprising. 

Let  our  minds  be  now  directed  then  to  the  in- 
quiry, whether  or  no  this  promise  is  verified  in  the 
experience  of  God's  people.  Can  we  perceive  in 
the  way  by  which  they  are  led  along,  anything  so 
new  and  unexpected — so  without  or  even  so  con- 
trary to  their  own  plans  and  anticipations  that  we 
may  believe  there  is  a  superhuman  wisdom  planning 
for  them,  and  a  hand  of  infinite  power  leading  them 
along  ? 

I.    In  answer  to  this  question  we  first  reply,  that 


230  THE    PKINCETOlSr    PULPIT. 

sucli  a  guidance  may  be  traced  iu  the  dealings  of 
God  with  His  children  hy  His  ])rovidence. 

A  recent  historian  of  the  Keformation  has  placed 
in  the  forefront  of  his  immortal  work  this  sentence 
respecting  it.  "  This  history  takes  as  its  guiding- 
star  the  simple  and  pregnant  truth  that  God  is  in 
liistwyy''^  And  that  single  sentence  contains  a 
world  of  important  truth.  Other  historians  have 
sought  to  make  their  books  valuable  and  valued  by 
means  of  accurate  and  learned  statements ;  by  pic- 
turesqueness  and  beauty  of  description ;  by  deep 
and  philosophical  reflections,  but  almost  without 
exception  they  have  forgotten  this  cardinal  truth, 
that  the  hand  of  God  has  wrought  in  all  the  aftairs 
of  men.  They  have  described  the  rise  and  fall  of 
nations  ;  the  changes,  progress,  and  convulsions  of 
the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  but  amidst  the  establish- 
ment and  overthrow  of  thrones,  the  intrigues  of  po- 
liticians and  the  clang  of  arms,  they  have  forgotten 
the  chief,  even  the  first  cause  of  all — God,  "  work- 
ing all  things  according  to  the  counsel  of  His  own 
will."  And  no  little  share  of  our  forgetfulness  of 
God  may  be  attributed  to  that  silent  lie  of  all  our 
histories,  which  has  kept  out  of  view  the  important 
fact,  that  "  God  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us." 

The  recorded  history  of  the  Jewish  nation  aftbrds 
a  beautiful  illustration  of  the  truth,  that  God  is  ac- 
tive in  all  human  affairs.  Had  that  history  been 
for  the  first  time  written  out  by  an  uninspired  hand, 
it  had  no  doubt  differed  little  from  other  histories. 
We  should  have  had  a  minute,  and  perhaps,  as  to 

*  DAubignc"8  Hist,  of  the  Reformation,  preface. 


WILLIAM    E.     SCIIENCK.  231 

outward  tilings,  an  accurate  account  of  the  Jewish 
origin  in  Abraham,  and  thence  down  to  the  Re- 
deemer's time,  with  all  the  long  series  of  outward 
changes,  while  the  presence  and  power  of  God  had 
been  almost  unseen  and  unthought  of,  and  the  va- 
rious wonderful  turns  in  their  affairs  been,  as  far  as 
possible,  ascribed  to,  and  explained  by,  merely  na- 
tural causes.  But  God  became  Himself  the  author 
of  that  history.  The  Holy  Ghost  enabled  holy 
men  to  perceive  and  to  record  tlie  truth.  And 
hence,  in  every  event  of  Jewish  history,  we  see 
the  hand  of  God,  not  only  in  its  miraculous,  but  in 
its  most  ordinary  occurrences.  The  veil  was  di-awn 
aside,  and  the  cause  of  this  thing  and  of  that  thing 
was  seen  in  the  Divine  Mnd,  as  well  as  in  nature 
and  in  man.  And  had  God  inspired  another  jjro- 
phet  to  write  the  history  of  any  other  nation,  yea, 
had  God  inspired  a  prophet  to  write  your  indivi- 
dual history,  my  hearer,  or  my  own,  I  doubt  not 
we  should  be  startled  and  astonished  to  see  how 
busy  the  hand  of  God  had  been  in  its  every  stage 
and  turn.  I  know  we  should  be  made  to  feel  as  we 
have  never  felt,  that  if  there  is  less  of  miracle, 
there  is  no  less  of  Providence  around  us  now, 
than  was  around  the  Jews  in  the  days  of  their 
theocracy. 

And  yet,  blinded  as  our  understandings  are  by 
sin,  and  heedless  as  we  are  of  the  hand  of  God 
while  it  works,  we  can  often  clearly  see  the  traces 
of  that  hand  when  its  work  is  done.  However 
tame  and  commonplace  his  course  of  life,  I  venture 
to  assert,  that  there  is  not  one  among  my  audience 


232  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

w-lio  can  sit  down  in  still  retirement,  and  take  a 
careful  and  candid  retrospect  througli  adult  years 
back  to  the  scenes  of  cliildkood's  early  days,  wko 
will  not  feel  the  calm,  conviction  steal  in  upon  his 
soul,  that  there  has  been  an  unseen  hand  leading 
him  in  paths  that  he  knew  not.  The  assertion  of 
the  poet  finds  a  res]3onse,  not  only  in  our  experience, 
but  also  in  the  very  depths  of  our  dependent  na- 
ture, when  he  says. 

There's  a  divinity  which  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will. 

This  same  sentiment  was  uttered  only  in  other 
words  by  a  more  infallible  poet  and  philosopher 
when  he  said  long  before,  "  The  heart  of  a  man  de- 
viseth  his  way,  but  the  Lord  directeth  his  steps." 
Did  you  ever  try  the  experiment  of  taking  such  a 
calm  and  careful  retrospect  ?  If  not,  no  wonder 
if  the  doctrine  of  a  special  Providence  has  taken 
little  hold  upon  your  mind  and  heart.  Try,  I  be- 
seech you,  the  profitable  experiment,  and  see  if  you 
be  not  convinced.  Tear  yourself  away  from  the 
busy  world  which  now  crowds  upon  your  thoughts, 
and  from  the  relations  which  now  bind  you  to  the 
present,  and  flee  back  to  the  sunny  days  of  child- 
hood. Surround  yourself  again  with  the  smiles  of 
those  whom  you  then  loved,  and  on  whom  you  then 
leaned  for  happiness.  Call  back  the  gladsome, 
buoyant  spirit  which  then  dwelt  within  your  bo- 
som. Bid  memory  again  paint  upon  the  canvas  of 
your  soul  the  sunlit  landscape  of  the  future.  Bid 
her  re-colour  the  faded  and  almost  forgotten  visions 


AV  I  L  L  I  A  31      E  .      S  C  II  E  X  C  K  .  233 

of  future  enjoyment.  Bid  lier  delineate  afresh  tlie 
erased  and  neglected  plans  for  future  usefulness, 
success,  and  happiness.  And  tlien,  when  you  have 
done  well  and  carefully  all  this,  go  forward  and  re- 
tread the  path  of  life,  carrying  with  you  those  re- 
covered plans  and  pictures  of  the  future,  and  at 
each  step  compare  the  anticipation  or  resolve  with 
the  reality.  And  how  do  they  agree  ?  All  how  ? 
You  meant  to  do  so  and  so.  Did  you  do  it  ?  You 
meant  to  be  so  and  so.  Did  you  fulfil  your  design  ? 
Did  you  even  always  alter  your  designs  voluntarily 
as  you  went  forward  ?  Although  ignorant  of  your 
history,  I  answer  for  you — you  did  not.  You  found 
unforeseen  circumstances  arising  all  along  the  way 
to  alter  your  determinations  and  to  change  your 
course.  Now  some  seeming  accident  occurred,  per- 
haps the  veriest  offspring  of  a  moment,  to  mar 
your  plan.  Here  some  unexpected  reverse  of  for- 
tune overtook  you,  which  with  all  your  wisdom  and 
exertions  you  could  not  avert.  There  some  be- 
reavement snatched  away  a  relative  or  friend, 
whose  dej^arture  dashed  many  a  fond  hope,  and 
threw  many  a  well-laid  scheme  into  confusion.  And 
how  many  parts  of  life,  unpainted  in  your  youthful 
picture,  have  you  not  encountered  !  Passions  have 
been  stirred  up  which  you  never  meant  should 
have  a  place  within  your  bosom.  Trials  and 
troubles  and  temptations  have  occurred,  the  nature 
and  perhaps  the  very  existence  of  which  you  knew 
not  of  when  you  started  on  your  journey.  Friends 
whom  you  deemed  true  as  truth  itself,  have  forgot- 
ten you,  perchance  have  become  your  enemies. 
16 


234         THE    PKiisrcETOisr    pulpit. 

Sickness  lias  laid  you  upon  beds  of  languisliing, 
and  brouglit  you  to  tlie  brink  of  eternity,  or  per- 
Laps  lias  more  permanently  benumbed  your  suscep- 
tibilities for  enjoyment.  And  so  by  a  thousand  un- 
foreseen incidents,  you  liave  been  led  by  a  way 
that  you  knew  not,  and  reached  to-day  a  position, 
both  as  to  inward  character  and  outward  relations 
to  the  world,  which  it  was  no  part  of  your  original 
plan  to  reach.  Is  it  not  so  ?  And  now  as  you  con- 
trast your  present  self  with  your  former  picture  of 
your  then  future  self,  does  not  either  this  or  that, 
as  the  case  may  be,  seem  to  be  a  caricature  and 
mockery  of  the  other  ?  And  now  why  is  this  ? 
Why  have  you  been  unable  to  walk  in  that  path 
which  you  marked  out  for  yourself  ?  Why  in  spite 
of  your  utmost  exertions  to  go  in  it,  have  your  feet 
been  turned  aside  ?  How  happens  it  that  you  have 
been  often  diverted  when  you  were  unwittingly 
just  entering  some  labyrinth  of  trouble,  or  about  to 
step  blindly  off  some  precipice  of  guilt  and  ruin  ? 
How  is  it  that  you  have  been  so  often  protected 
from  yourself,  and  thwarted  for  your  good  ?  Ah  ! 
it  is  because  you  have  had  an  unseen  guide.  And 
although  you  perhaps  felt  not  his  gentle  grasp 
which  was  laid  upon  you,  and  acknowledged  not 
his  goodness,  he  has  not  left  you  to  walk  alone  a 
single  step,  or  to  chose  your  own  path  when  He 
saw  it  would  not  be  for  your  advantage.  He  has 
brought  you  in  your  blindness  by  a  way  that  you 
knew  not.  And  just  as  really  as  he  led  his  ancient 
Israel,  day  by  day,  by  a  pillar  of  fire  and  of  cloud, 
just  so  really  is  he  now  leading  by  his  own  presence, 


WILLIAM     E.      SCIIEXCK.  235 

every  one  of  liis  own  dear  children  towards  the 
heavenly  Canaan.  And  although  he  may  lead 
them  through  the  depths  of  the  sea,  or  the  rugged 
desert,  by  blessings  and  by  chastisements,  He  will 
by  his  providence  be  with  them  still,  until  they 
reach  the  journey's  end,  for  his  promise  is  "  I  will 
never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee." 

II.  But  we  are  far  from  having  yet  reached  the 
full  meaning  of  this  text,  which  we  must  regard, 
from  its  close  connection  with  the  pre\dous  pro- 
phecy concerning  Christ,  as  having  reference  yet 
more  to  the  leadings  of  God's  Spirit  than  of  his 
providence.  I  proceed,  then,  to  remark  yet  more 
emphatically,  that  God  leads  his  children  by  a  way 
they  know  not  in  the  dealings  of  Ills  grace.  He, 
by  his  grace,  lays  hold  upon  them  at  a  time  when 
they  do  not  expect  him,  and  in  a  way  in  which 
they  look  not  for  him ;  and  from  that  moment, 
until  they  reach  their  heavenly  destination,  their 
progress  in  the  paths  of  righteousness  is,  at  every 
step,  new,  strange,  and  surprising  to  themselves. 
Let  us  briefly  see  if  it  be  not  so. 

When  God  by  his  Spirit  comes  to  apply  unto 
the  soul  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ,  he  first 
of  all  produces  in  the  soul  a  persuasion  and iJercep- 
tion  of  its  own  guilt  and  wretcliedness ;  and  this 
conviction  God  causes  to  lay  hold  upon  the  soul, 
usually  at  a  time  as  unlikely,  as  he  does  in  ways 
wonderfully  various.  Behold  the  woman  of  Sama- 
ria !  She  goes  forth  from  her  household  as  usual, 
to  fill  her  vessel  with  water  at  the  well  of  Jacob ; 
she  finds  a  tired  stranger  sitting  on  the  well,  and 


236  THE      PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

perceives  liim  to  be  of  tlie  hated  nation  of  tlie 
Jews ;  slie  enters  into  a  brief  conversation  witli 
Mm,  and  soon  stands  conscience-stricken  and  self- 
condemned  before  the  acknowledged  Messiah.  Be- 
hold the  assembly  which  stood  before  the  Apostle 
Peter  on  the  day  of  Pentecost!  There  are  men 
out  of  every  nation  under  heaven,  who  have  come 
up  to  Jerusalem,  not  to  find  salvation,  but  for  pur- 
poses of  trade  and  ceremonial  worship.  There,  too, 
stand  the  men  of  Judea,  who  have  just  now  taken 
and  with  wicked  hands  have  crucified  and  slain  the 
Lord  of  glory,  their  hearts  and  hands  yet  reeking 
with  the  Redeemer's  blood.  They  have  just  reached 
the  climax  of  human  guilt.  Yet,  strange  to  tell, 
there  they  stand,  convinced  of  sin,  and  crying — 
"  Men  and  brethren,  what  shall  we  do  V  Behold 
the  thief  upon  the  cross !  Regardless  alike  of  the 
claims  of  God  and  of  humanity,  his  crimes  have 
brought  him  near  to  death.  Even  amidst  the  ago- 
nies of  crucifixion,  the  two  thieves  at  first  both 
railed  on  Jesus ;  but  soon  the  one  is  heard  rebuk- 
ing his  companion,  saying,  "  Dost  thou  not  fear 
God  ?"  while  he  turns  his  supplicating  cry  to  Jesus, 
"  Lord,  remember  me."  Behold  the  blaspheming, 
persecuting  Saul !  With  an  exceeding  madness  in 
his  heart  against  the  saints  of  God,  breathing  forth 
threatenings  and  slaughter, — with  the  commission 
of  the  high  priest  for  their  destruction  on  his  per- 
son, a  light  shines  around  him,  a  voice  from  heaven 
smites  upon  his  ear,  and  the  bloody  persecutor 
humbly,  tremblingly  inquires,  "  Lord,  what  wilt 
thou  have  me  to  do  V     Behold  the  jailer  at  Phi- 


AVI  L  LI  AM     E.     SCIIENCK.  23*7 

lippi !  He  retires  to  liis  rest  as  unconcerned  aljout 
his  soul  as  usual,  but  at  midniglit  lie  is  heard  crying 
in  alarm,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  John 
Newton  became  convinced  of  sin  while  in  a  slave- 
ship,  and  engaged  in  a  course  of  gross  and  shocking 
licentiousness.  A  late  and  celebrated  clergyman 
of  England  was  pierced  by  his  first  convictions  of 
sin  by  hearing  from  the  minister  who  occupied  the 
pul23it  the  simple  words,  "Let  us  pray."  Two 
students  in  one  of  our  colleges,  while  a  revival 
was  in  progress,  some  years  ago,  mutually  agreed 
to  attend  an  inquiring  meeting,  that  they  might 
amuse  themselves  by  practising  deception  upon 
the  officiating  clergyman.  When  the  meeting  was 
called  to  prayer,  they  kneeled  among  the  rest,  and, 
while  upon  their  knees,  they  were  both  smitten  by 
the  power  of  the  Spirit.  Thus,  "  fools  who  came 
to  scoff,  remained  to  pray ;"  and  so  unexpectedly 
found  salvation  in  the  cross  of  Christ. 

And  it  is  ever  so.  God  is  characteristically  a 
God  who  is  found  of  them  that  soucrht  Him  not. 
Often  does  he  meet  the  criminal  in  his  dunsreon 
cell,  and  reclaim  him  to  himself.  Often  does  he 
meet  the  licentious  man  in  the  midst  of  his  licen- 
tiousn.ess :  sometimes  the  dying  sinner,  as  he  did  the 
thief  upon  the  cross,  when  all  hope  seems  prepos- 
terous. Not  seldom  does  he  brino:  the  sinner  to 
repentance  when  he  has  just  reached  a  point,  where 
he  is  more  than  ever  surrounded  by  manifold  and 
strong  temptations :  when  he  had  perhaps  long  dis- 
regarded affectionate  parental  prayers  and  admoni- 
tions, the  warnings  of  a  preached  Gospel,  the  striv- 


238  THE    peusTcetojS^    pulpit. 

ings  of  tlie  Holy  Spirit :  wlieii  lie  liad  begun  to 
indulge  in  new  species  of  iniquity :  wlien  lie  was 
peculiarly  exposed  to  evil  influences  or  companions: 
wlien  in  short  his  case  seemed  more  than  ever 
hopeless.  When  Satan  had  shielded  his  bosom 
most  carefully  with  some  choice  and  adamantine 
breastplate  from  the  armory  of  hell,  then  did  the 
king  make  sharp  his  arrows  to  pierce  it  through 
and  through,  and  reach  the  heart  beyond.  Thus, 
generally,  (may  I  not  say  always  ?)  does  God  mag- 
nify the  power  of  his  grace. 

As  to  the  nature  no  less  than  the  occasion  of 
these  convictions^  God  works  in  unexpected  ways. 
Men  often  think  that  conviction  of  sin  is  little  more 
than  to  know  that  one  is  a  sinner.  Hence  they 
often  expect  that  when  a  suitable  time,  a  conve- 
nient season,  shall  have  come,  it  will  be  sufficient 
just  to  read  and  meditate  upon  this  fact,  that  they 
are  sinners.  And  he,  who  once  entertained  this 
thought,  but  has  since  become  a  child  of  God,  has 
probably  been  taken  by  surprise  when  the  Sj)irit 
opened  the  eyes  of  his  understanding.  He  was 
astonished  to  find  how  stony,  hoAV  unyielding,  how 
unfeeling  a  heart  he  carried  in  his  bosom.  He  was 
astonished  to  find,  how  averse  he  was  from  God, 
and  how  depraved  he  is  in  all  his  nature.  He  is 
amazed  to  see  how  things  before  regarded  as  inno- 
cent, have  become  vile ;  how  the  favorite  sins  which 
he  hugged  to  his  bosom  have  become  serpents  and 
scorpions  which  he  cannot  get  rid  of:  how  the  car- 
nal nature  which  he  before  delighted  to  gratify, 
(so  far  at  least  as  outward'  appearances  and  the 


WILLIAM    E.      SCIIENCK.  239 

good  Opinion  of  those  around  liini  would  allow)  is 
now  transformed  into  a  putrid  carcase — a  body  of 
death — from  which  he  longs  and  strives  to  be  set 
free. 

The  same  remark  also  applies  to  the  means  which 
God  employs  to  arrest  his  children  in  their  thought- 
less way.  They  perhaps  expected  to  go  ui>  the 
slope  of  Calvary  by  some  path  of  their  own  choos- 
ing, but  how  has  God  disappointed  them  ?  They 
were  intending  perhaps  when  a  convenient  time 
had  come,  to  seek  salvation  leisurely  and  gently,  as 
a  mere  matter  of  self-interest.  But,  lo !  the  Spirit 
of  God  came  down  upon  them  like  a  rushing 
mighty  wind,  in  which  the  soul,  like  some  tall  forest 
tree,  was  swayed  and  bowed  before  the  blast  as  if 
its  destruction  were  at  hand.  While  God  was 
effecting:  the  transformation  of  the  old  creature  into 
the  new,  all  its  powers  seemed  convulsed  by  the 
greatness  of  the  change.  Or,  more  probably  the 
sinner  then  impenitent,  was  looking  for  some 
mighty  exertion  of  God's  power  ;  waiting  for,  and 
desirous  of  some  powerful  revival  in  the  commu- 
nity, or  some  indubitable,  heart-breaking  sense  of 
guilt  laid  upon  himself  He  felt  that  until  God 
almost  struck  him  to  the  earth  by  the  thunderings 
and  lightnings  of  the  law,  he  could  not  be  in  God's 
path  towards  heaven.  And  how  did  God  disap- 
point him  also.  The  power  of  the  Sj)irit  descend- 
ed upon  him  like  the  gentle  shower,  or  the  evening 
dew.  Some  striking  providence ;  some  simple  truth 
repeated  in  his  hearing  for  the  thousandth  time  ; 
some  whispered  admonition  of  a  Christian  friend ; 


240  THE     PEIl^CETON     PULPIT. 

some  long-known  text  of  lioly  scripture ;  awakes 
attention,  decides  for  action,  bows  down  tlie  soul 
gently,  yet  with  true  convictions,  before  God.  God 
has  led  the  sinner  to  conviction  by  a  way  that  he 
knew  not. 

The  same  is  eminently  true  of  the  aj>j)reJiension 
and  acceptance  of  Jesus  Christ :  the  act  of  faith. 
It  is  wonderful  how  defective,  how  distorted,  how 
every  way  wrong,  are  men's  views  of  Jesus  Christ 
previous  to  the  experience  of  faith.  They  may 
have  learned  the  whole  orthodoxy  of  the  subject. 
Yet  there  are  some  things  here  which  the  natural 
man  cannot  discern.  There  seems  to  be  a  veil — a 
dark  and  terrible  veil — drawn  before  the  eyes  of 
men,  which  shuts  out  the  sight  of  Christ  as  "  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life."  This  strange,  this 
universal  blindness  of  men  to  Christ,  and  to  his  re- 
lation to  our  salvation,  meets  us  at  every  turn  in 
the  endeavour  to  lead  souls  to  Heaven,  and  their  in- 
ability to  comprehend  the  grand  and  spirit-stirring 
messacje  of  salvation  when  set  before  them  in  the 
clearest  terms,  can  only  be  explained  by  recurring 
to  the  Apostolic  declaration — "  In  whom  the  god 
of  this  world  hath  blinded  the  eyes  of  them  that 
believe  not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of 
Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  unto 
them."  When  God  saves  a  sinner,  this  dark  and 
terrible  veil  is  torn  fro-m  his  eyes  by  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  and  to  the  soul's  recovered  ^asion 
is  presented  "  Christ,  the  image  of  God,"  in  all 
his  divine  fullness,  in  all  the  completeness  of  his 
offices,  in  all  the  freeness  of  his  offers.   He  becomes 


AVILLIAM      E.      SCIIENCK.  241 

its  wisdom,  its  rigliteousness,  its  sanctification,  its 
redemption.  The  soul  now  bows  down  before  him, 
leans  upon  him,  clings  to  liim,  takes  him  as  its  all 
in  all.  He  who  was  just  now  "  without  form  or 
comeliness,"  has  become  "  the  one  altogether  love- 
ly." And  now  as  the  soul  looks  back  upon  its  by- 
gone times  of  ignorance,  it  is  filled  with  astonish- 
ment and  humiliation  because  it  never  thus  saw 
Christ  before, — so  free,  so  simple,  so  beautiful,  so 
perfect  does  his  salvation  now  appear.  The  believ- 
ing soul  feels  and  is  ready  to  confess  that  in  reveal- 
ing to  it  such  a  sight ;  in  giving  to  it  such  a  trust, 
God  has  been  leading  it  in  ways  which  it  knew 
not. 

The  divine  methods  for  leading  the  believer  to 
growth  in  grace  are  not  less  unexpected.  When 
the  new-born  child  of  God  looks  forth  upon  the 
path  of  holiness,  into  which  his  feet  are,  by  grace, 
just  turned,  it  seems  to  him  to  lie,  throughout  its 
whole  extent,  across  green  pastures  and  beside  still 
waters,  and,  with  the  most  sanguine  and  pleasing 
anticipations,  he  presses  on.  He  sees  not  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  way,  and  is,  therefore,  almost  ready 
to  chide  others  for  their  tardy  pace,  while  he  forms 
high  resolutions  for  himself  He  will  never  lag, 
let  others  do  what  they  may.  But  he  has  not  gone 
far  before  he  finds  that  even  here  he  cannot  walk 
in  the  way  of  his  own  choosing.  Perhaps  he  has 
begun  with  too  much  self-confidence,  or  too  much 
pride,  and  it  is  best  he  should  be  humbled.  Hence, 
he  has  not  gone  far  before  his  feet  are  found  in  a 
more  rugged  and  more  toilsome  path.    Temptations 


242  THE     PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

are  around  Mm,  and  sometimes  lie  falls  beneath 
tlieir  power.  Unexpected  hindrances  arise  on  this 
side  and  on  that,  until  he  finds,  at  length,  that  his 
own  strength  is  j)erfect  weakness.  Perhaps  he  is 
in  prosperity,  and  he  is  found  yielding  to  self-ap- 
plause, to  self-indulgence,  or  to  avarice.  Perhaps 
he  is  in  adversity,  and  he  yields  to  despondency, 
to  repinings,  to  distrust  God.  Beloved  objects  of 
affection  are  spared,  and  he  idolizes  them.  They  are 
torn  away,  and  he  murmurs  at  his  Father's  act. 
Without  are  fio:htin2:s  and  within  are  fears.  Yet  he 
trusts  in  God.  He  presses  onward.  He  prays  day 
by  day  for  growth  in  grace.  Who  that  lives  a  life 
of  faith  cannot  appreciate  the  language  of  that 
touching  hymn? — 

/  hop''d  that  in  some  favour'd  hour, 
At  once  he'd  grant  me  ray  request, 

And  by  his  love's  constraining  pow'r 
Subdue  my  sins  and  give  me  rest. 

Instead  of  this,  he  made  me  feel 

The  hidden  evils  of  my  heart  ; 
And  let  the  angry  powers  of  hell 

Assault  my  soul  in  every  part. 

Yea,  more ;  with  his  own  hand  he  seem'd 

Intent  to  aggravate  my  woe  ; 
Cross'd  all  the  fair  designs  I  schem'd, 

Blasted  my  gourds,  and  laid  me  low. 

"Lord,  why  is  this?"  I  trembling  cried, 
"  Wilt  thou  pursue  thy  worm  to  death  P'' 

"  'Tis  in  this  way,"  the  Lord  replied, 
"  I  answer  pray'r  for  grace  and  faith." 


WILLIAM     E.     SCIIENCK.  243 

Aiid  is  such  the  experience  of  the  young  convert 
who  started  but  yesterday  upon  the  road  heaven- 
ward, full  of  ardent  hopes  and  high  resolves  ?  Yes. 
God  has  put  the  gold  in  the  furnace.  He  is  tearing 
loose  the  roots  of  the  tree,  that  he  may  finally 
transplant  it  to  a  better  soil.  He  is  guiding  his 
child  by  a  more  rugged  road,  because  his  eye  sees 
dangers  in  the  path  of  uninterrupted  progress  and 
enjoyment,  even  in  spiritual  things.  And  he  will 
continue,  even  to  the  end  of  life,  thus  to  bring  the 
blind  by  a  way  they  knew  not. 

Still  further;  even  on  the  heliever''s  deatli-led  is 
often  and  gloriously  illustrated  the  teaching  of  our 
text.  See  there  a  believer  who  has  been  all  his 
lifetime  in  bondage,  through  fear  of  death.  Every 
sign  of  its  ap]3roach  has  filled  him  with  alarm, 
and  the  knowledo:e  that  he  himself  must  sometime 
pass  through  that  dread  change  has  filled  his  soul 
with  trembling.  And  now  his  time  has  come.  The 
silver  cord  will  soon  be  loosed,  and  the  golden  bowl 
be  broken.  Flesh  and  heart  already  begin  to  fail 
him.  But,  lo !  to  his  surprise,  his  soul  is  calm. 
The  destroyer  has  lost  all  his  terrors.  The  ever- 
lasting arms  are  underneath  him,  and  he  joyfully 
exclaims,  "Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou 
art  with  me ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staft',  they  comfort 
me!" 

There  is  another  believer  whose  countenance  was 
always  sad.  It  was  not  so  much  that  he  feared  the 
King  of  Terrors,  but  he  doubted  his  interest  in 
Christ.     He  feared  to  appropriate  unto  himself  the 


244  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

precious  promises  and  consolations  of  the  gospel 
lest  he  should  be  a  self-deceiver.  He  feared  to  utter 
a  clear  testimony  on  the  side  of  Christ,  lest  he 
should  be  uttering  heartless  words.  Now  he,  too, 
must  enter  that  dark  valley.  And  how  can  he,  who 
always  feared  while  in  life  and  health,  be  otherwise 
than  in  despair  in  this  his  day  of  awful  trial  ?  But 
look !  how  serene  and  cheerful  is  his  aspect !  The 
dark  clouds  are  now  all  cleared  away.  The  Sun  of 
Righteousness  is  pouring  its  eifulgence  full  upon 
him.  And,  as  he  disappears  from  mortal  sight,  his 
last  shout,  clear  and  joyful,  rings  in  our  ears:  "I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  !  O,  death !  where 
is  thy  sting?  O,  grave!  where  is  thy  victory?" 
God  leads  his  people,  in  the  hour  of  death,  by  a 
way  that  they  knew  not. 

I  will  only  add,  that  as  the  path  by  which  God 
leads  his  people  is  in  its  beginning,  and  in  all  its 
progress,  so  is  it  in  its  termination — one  which  they 
know  not.     Our  heavenly  destiny  is  veiled  from 
mortal  sight.    "It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be."     The  believer's  has  all  along  been  a  sur- 
prising course ;  but  here,  my  brethren,  will  be  the 
great  surprise  of  all,  when  he  bursts  away  from  his 
habiliments  of  flesh,  and  the  remaining  bonds  of 
sin,  and  finds  himself  in  the  abodes  of  glory.   AVhat 
new,  what  strange,  what  ecstatic  sensations  will 
then  rush  in  upon  him !    What  yet  untasted  sources 
of  enjoyment  will  then  1je  open  to  him !    AYhat  vast 
discoveries  of  wisdom,  and  of  power,  and  of  grace, 
as  yet  unguessed  at,  will  he  make !    What  seraphic 
raptures,  what  holy  companionships,  what  a  blessed 


"WILLIAM     E  .      S  C  H  E  N  C  K  .  245 

eternity  will  be  his !  Refine  tlie  joys  of  earth  as 
you  may — exert  your  imaginations  to  the  utmost — 
you  have  not  yet  conceived  adequately  of  the  joys 
and  glories  of  that  heavenly  home  towards  which 
God  by  his  grace  is  daily  leading  each  and  every 
one  of  his  dear  children.  And  when  the  first  tu- 
mult of  that  great  surprise  shall  have  subsided,  it 
will  be  one  occupation  of  that  eternity  of  bliss,  to 
look  back  aloug  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  your 
God  has  led  you,  and  to  trace  his  goodness,  his 
wisdom,  and  his  power  in  its  every  step.  And  then 
and  there,  as  you  review  his  dealings  with  you,  in 
the  pure  light  of  heaven,  you  will  see  cause  to  praise 
him  for  ever  and  for  ever  more,  that  he  gave  you 
not  the  choice  of  your  own  path,  but  led  you,  in 
your  blindness,  by  a  path  which  else  you  had  never 
known. 

Accept,  then,  I  beseech  you,  Christian  brethren, 
the  joy  and  strength  these  words  are  suited  and 
intended  to  afford  you.  Believe  that  your  Heavenly 
Father  is  continually  at  your  side,  and  choosing  all 
your  paths.  Commit  your  way  into  his  keeping. 
Trust  to  his  wisdom  in  all  you  perj^lexities  and 
straits.  Lean  on  his  powerful  arm  in  all  your  weak- 
ness ;  rely  upon  his  firm  promise  that  he  never  will 
forsake  you.  Be  submissive  and  reconciled  to  his 
will  in  all  things.  Cast  your  eyes  forward  from  his 
present  dealings  to  their  glorious  issues;  and  be 
ever  careful  to  testify  your  gratitude  by  your  obe- 
dience and  by  your  praise. 


CHRIST,  THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  GOD. 

BY 

THE  REV.  W.  HENRY  GREEN, 

PKOFESSOn   OF   BIBLICAL    AMD    OKIENTAL     LITEEATUBE. 


God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh. — 1  Tni.  iii.  16. 

There  was  a  deep  truth  conveyed  by  tliat  inscrip- 
tion read  by  Paul,  upon  an  Athenian  altar,  "  To  the 
unknown  God."  God  is  the  great  unknown ;  not 
only  because  there  are  depths  in  his  nature  which 
we  cannot  fathom,  because  his  is  an  immensity 
which  the  utmost  reaches  of  intellect  fail  to  grasp ; 
a  duration  which  man  knows  not  how  to  measure ; 
an  omni^iotence  which  baffles  all  attempt  at  concep- 
tion ;  and  because  such  is  the  infinitude  of  every 
one  of  the  divine  perfections,  that  after  exhausting 
all  our  strength  in  the  intense  pursuit,  and  rising 
to  the  dizziest  heights,  and  pressing  to  the  remotest 
vers^e  of  thouo-ht,  we  come  back  from  the  contem- 
plation  of  the  Godhead,  astounded  by  the  vastness, 
a  trifling  j)art  of  which  only  we  have  been  able  to 
see,  and  able  but  to  articulate  the  humiliating  ques- 
tion. Who  l)y  searching  can  find  out  God  ?  In 
saying  that  God  is  unknown,  we  mean  now  not  to 
speak  of  him  as  incomprehensible,  as  one  whose 
nature  never  can  be  perfectly  understood  by  fii  ite 
capacities,  even  when    he    has    been  revealed  to 


W.      HENRY      GEEEN.  247 

them  with  all  possible  clearness ;  but  we  mean  to 
speak  of  him  as  undiscoverable  in  any  measure 
however  imperfect,  or  to  any  extent  however  limit- 
ed, unless  as  he  reveals  himself.  It  is  not  the  im- 
possibility of  man  fully  comprehending  the  glori- 
ous nature  of  God,  exploring  to  its  utmost  bound- 
aries a  field  which  is  so  absolutely  limitless,  and 
taking  in  with  his  finite  capacities  the  full  sweep  of 
a  subject  which  is  infinite  ;  but  the  imj^ossibility  to 
which  we  now  have  reference,  is  that  of  attaining 
to  any  knowledge  even  the  least  and  most  inade- 
quate of  the  Divine  Being,  except  as  he  furnishes 
it  to  us.  We  have  no  faculty  by  which  to  obtain 
an  immediate  perception  of  the  Great  Supreme. 
He  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us.  He  fills  all 
that  is  around,  above,  beneath  us  ;  and  yet  the  eye 
cannot  see  God,  with  our  hands  we  cannot  feel  him, 
the  ear  catches  no  sound  of  his  footstejos.  He  is 
covered  with  an  impenetrable  veil ;  and  though  he 
is  ever  with  us,  ever  beholding  us,  though  it  is  He 
that  supports  every  faculty  of  our  natures,  holds 
every  fibre  of  our  frames,  guides  every  motion  of  our 
bodies,  directs  every  pulsation  of  our  hearts,  super- 
intends every  exercise  of  our  minds,  yet  we  cannot 
behold  him  any  more  than  if  all  the  space  which  he 
fills  were  void  unconscious  emptiness.  And  though 
we  had  the  faculties  of  angels,  or  with  a  vision  su- 
pernaturally  assisted,  like  that  of  Elisha's  servant, 
we  were  able  to  see  the  celestial  visitants  that 
throng  our  world,  or  to  see  the  human  soul  as  it 
forsakes  its  tenement  of  clay  for  its  upward  or  its 
dowmward  flight,  still  though  able  to  discern  created 


248  THE     PEINCETOJSr     PULPIT. 

spirits,  we  would  not  be  able  to  penetrate  the 
thick  darkness  in  wkicli  He  dwells  enshrouded.  It 
is  not  within  the  reach  of  any  creature-faculty  to 
uncover  the  awful  mystery  of  His  nature,  nor  to 
look  direct  upon  the  essence  of  the  Godhead.  The 
King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  is  by  all  unseen ; 
and  in  his  existence,  his  perfections,  his  purposes, 
he  is  to  all  beings  a  profound  secret,  except  as  he 
voluntarily  discloses  himself  to  them. 

With  what  angels  may  know  of  God,  or  with 
what  devils  may  know  of  God,  we-  are  not  now 
particularly  concerned.  We  shall  not  undertake  to 
inquire  how  far  his  glory  and  his  grace  are  made 
known  to  the  one,  or  what  are  the  methods  by  which 
they  are  conveyed ;  nor  to  what  extent  the  others 
learn  to  know  him,  whose  just  vengeance  has  lighted 
the  fires  of  their  torment.  The  text  speaks  of 
a  manifestation  of  God  to  man.  Man  was  not 
created  to  eat,  and  drink,  and  die ;  to  pass  his 
earthly  existence  absorbed  in  carnal  pursuits,  and 
earthly  cares,  and  transitory  pleasures.  He  was 
made  to  have  communion  with  God,  to  serve  him, 
to  contribute  to  his  glory.  But  a  God  unknown 
and  unrevealed  cannot  be  worshipped  nor  obeyed. 
He  may  awaken  a  sort  of  mysterious  dread,  such 
as  silence  and  night  inspire ;  but  he  can  neither  be 
praised,  adored,  nor  loved.  Jehovah  has  therefore 
made  himself  known  to  men.  Our  text  tells  us 
'  God  W€is  manifest  in  the  flesh.'' 

I  do  not  feel  it  necessary  to  prove  to  you  now 
that  this  actually  took  place  at  the  incarnation  of 
Jesus  Christ.     It  is  as  plain  as  it  can  be  upon  the 


AV  .      II  E  N  II  Y      G  E  E  E  N  .  249 

face  of  the  pa^^sage,  that  this  is  the  event  to  which 
the  sacred  writer  refers.  I  shall  not  go  into  any 
labored  criticism  to  prove  to  you  that  this  verse 
stands  imcorrupted  as  it  came  from  the  pen  of 
Paul.  I  shall  not  detail  to  you  the  various  ways  by 
which  men  have  sought  to  evade  its  plain  testi- 
mony to  the  Deity  of  Jesus.  I  shall  not  cull  argu- 
ments from  the  rest  of  Scripture,  by  which  the 
doctrine  of  this  passage  may  be  corroborated.  I 
may  presume  that  so  elementary  a  truth  of  our  re- 
ligion as  the  union  of  Deity  and  manhood  in  the 
person  of  Jesus,  is  understood  and  embraced.  Or 
if  there  be  among  my  hearers  any  who  have 
doubts  upon  so  fundamental  a  point"^  I  shall  just 
leave  my  text  to  stand  out  before  them  in  its  own 
simple  majesty,  and  with  all  the  positiveness  of  its 
declaration,  'God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh.'  I 
shall  not  mar  the  effect  of  this  utterance  of  the 
oracles  of  truth,  by  presuming  that  it  needs  to  be 
substantiated,  which  God  has  delivered,  or  that  it 
can  gather  confirmation  from  argument  which  He 
has  declared.  I  bring  no  other  witness.  I  present 
no  farther  demonstration.  I  give  you  this  one 
statement  to  which  God's  spirit  has  set  his  seal: 
and  I  do  not  ask,  I  demand  your  belief. 

I  assume  then,  as  undisputed,  what  my  text  de- 
clares ;  or  if  any  dispute  it  they  must  contend  with 
their  Maker,  not  with  me.  That  which  we  design 
at  present  is  to  occupy  you  with  a  few  thoui^hts  di- 
rected to  the  iHustration  of  the  fulness  of  meaning 
contained  in  the  inspired  expression  before  us.  Our 
aim  shall  be  simply  to  educe  the  idea,  which  is  pre- 
17 


250  THE      PKINCETON      PULPIT. 

sented  to  tlie  mind  when  it  is  said,  God  was  man- 
ifest in  tlie  flesli ;  we  wisli,  in  otlier  words,  to  con- 
sider the  incarnation  as  a  manifestation  of  God. 
And  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  tliis  single  trutL, 
since  it  is  alone  presented  in  our  text,  we  shall  not, 
we  trust,  be  considered  as  either  denying  or  under- 
rating the  other  ends  of  the  incarnation,  because  it 
does  not  fall  within  the  range  which  we  propose  to 
ourselves  to  speak  of  them.  It  is,  we  gratefully 
acknowledge,  by  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God 
alone,  that  we  are  provided  with  a  competent  me- 
diator between  God  and  man.  It  was  thus  alone 
that  an  adeq[uate  atonement  could  be  made  for  hu- 
man sin.  It  is  by  the  incarnation  that  we  have  set 
before  us  our  only  perfect  example  ;  by  it  that  we 
are  permitted  to  indulge  that  confidence  in  our  di- 
vine Redeemer,  as  one  who  can  sympathize  with  us 
in  trials  which  he  has  himself  experienced.  But 
while  we  would  not  forget,  and  mean  not  to  under- 
value these  and  other  inestimable  benefits  which 
we  owe  to  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God,  we 
wish  now  to  abstract  your  minds  from  every  other 
advantage  it  confers,  and  fasten  your  attention  upon 
the  single  one  presented  in  the  text,  which  is  itself 
enough  to  make  us  adore  this  sacred  mystery  and 
devoutly  prize  it  as  of  inestimable  worth.  If  the 
incarnation  were  nothing  more  to  us  than  a  man- 
ifestation of  God ;  if  it  gave  us  no  mediator, 
l^rought  us  no  atonement,  set  before  us  no  exam- 
ple, provided  us  no  compassionate  High  Priest,  but 
merely  brought  God  down  to  us,  and  enabled  us  to 
look,  still  TV'ith  adoring  awe,  and  yet  with  admiring 


AV  .      H  E  N  11  Y     O  R  i:  E  I^  .  251 

confidence  u])on  liim,  and  to  gain  fresli  and  enlarged 
views  of  his  nature  and  glory,  still  this  mystery 
of  godlmess  would  have  deserved  our  wonder,  anil 
we  should  liave  jwinted  you  to  it  as  to  a  thing 
second   in   importance    to    nothing  that  we    can 
imagine.     And  though  it  is  not  for  us  to  limit  the 
wisdom  and  grace  of  God,  nor  to  say  what  he  might 
have  done,  or  what  he  might  not  have  done  under 
other  circumstances,  yet  it  does  apjDear  as  though 
we  would  be  almost  warranted  in  saying,  not  only 
that  the  incarnation  shines  with  a  lustre  far  supe- 
rior to  every  other  communication  God  has  made 
of    himself  to  our  race,  but   that   it   is   superior 
to  any  other  which  could  have  been  devised  for 
making  himself  known.     It  does  appear  as  though 
God,  whose  it  is  to  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and  to 
make  the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  him,  had  made 
the  guilty  trespass  of  man  which  needed  the  incar- 
nation in  order  to  its  atonement,  the  occasion  of 
bringing  himself  nearer  to  his  creatures,  and  laying 
himself  more  open  to  their  astonished  and  admir- 
ing gaze,  than  he  could  have  done,  had  not  that 
which  he  abhors  presented  the  occasion.  It  is  ours, 
then,  at  this  time  to  contemplate  this  master-stroke 
of  divine  wisdom,  and  to  see  how  completely  the 
enemy  was  made  to  overreach  himself;  and  how 
that  which  was  done  out  of  no  desire  to  promote 
the  di\ane  glory,  and  from  no  regard  for  human 
welfare,  but  out  of  hostility  both  to  God  and  man, 
was  nevertheless  made  in  this  case,  as  in  so  many 
others,^  to  turn  in  favour  of  both,  so  that  to  God 
there  is  gathered  a  more  ample  harvest  of  glory. 


252  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

and  to  man  is  afforded  the  opportunity,  as  we  cannot 
but  tliink,  of  a  fuller  acquaintance  with  his  Maker, 
and  a  more  intimate  communion  w^ith  him,  than 
though  sin  had  not  entered,  and  the  putting  of  it 
away  required  that  God  should  become  manifest  in 
the  flesh. 

We  mean  not  to  imply,  of  course,  that  God  was 
wholly  unknown  in  the  world  before  the  incarna- 
tion, and  that  no  other  way  existed  or  was  possible 
than  this,  of  arriving  at  a  knowledge  of  his  exist- 
ence and  attributes.  We  do  not  say  that  the  incar- 
nation stands  alone  as  the  sole  method  by  which 
God  can  reveal  himself  to  his  creatures;  it  does 
stand  alone  as  the  only  case  in  which  God  was  mani- 
fested, personally  exhibited  to  men ;  and  its  glory 
consists  in  the  fact,  that  while  there  were  many 
successive  modes  of  divine  communication,  rising 
one  above  the  other  in  fulness  and  clearness,  this 
towers  loftily  above  them  all,  surpassing  stage  after 
stage  of  revelation,  to  each  of  which,  had  we  known 
only  that,  we  should  have  ascribed  perfection. 

There  is  a  light  in  nature  which  reveals  God,  and 
there  are  lessons  respecting  him  spread  out  before 
the  eyes  of  all  men.  The  invisible  things  of  God 
are  clearly  seen  from  the  creation  of  the  world ; 
his  eternal  power  and  Godhead  are  distinctly  writ- 
ten there ;  and,  as  if  to  make  the  testimony  of 
nature  full,  and  to  the  last  degree  complete,  man 
himself  was  made  in  the  image,  after  the  likeness 
of  God ;  so  that  to  know  his  Creator,  all  that  he 
had  to  do  was  to  turn  inward  and  look  upon  him- 
self, and  trace  the  lineaments  of  his  Maker  there. 


AV.      IT  E  N  n  Y      GREEX.  253 

We  may  not  pause  here ;  but  if  we  could  stop  and 
gaze  about  us,  and  gaze  inward,  and  see  how  the 
knowledge  of  God  streams  in  upon  us  from  ten 
thousand  sources,  and  then  think  how  much  more 
the  pure  eye  of  unfallen  man  could  have  read  where 
we  see  nothing,  and  how  the  image  of  God  im- 
pressed upon  the  heart,  now  so  blurred  and  defaced, 
was  then  distinctly  traceable  in  every  feature,  we 
would  almost  be  prepared  to  say,  if  we  knew  of  no 
further  communications  God  had  made.  Surely  this 
is  the  most  ample,  the  most  certain,  the  most  direct 
instruction  concerning  an  invisible,  incomprehensi- 
ble Creator  that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  To 
write  his  name  and  his  attributes  on  everything 
about  us,  on  all  that  lives  and  moves ;  yea,  on  every 
leaf  and  flower,  and  fleecy  cloud,  and  babbling 
brook,  and  ray  of  light  and  drop  of  dew;  and 
then  to  grave  his  very  image  on  the  soul  of  man 
itself!  how  can  God  be  forgotten  or  unknown  in 
such  a  world,  by  such  a  soul  ? 

But  revelation  has  surpassed  nature.  We  speak 
not  now  of  its  meeting  those  new  necessities  which 
the  apostasy  has  introduced,  and  for  which  nature 
has  not  the  semblance  of  a  remedy ;  but  of  this  one 
particular,  which  is  now  before  us — the  making- 
known  of  God.  We  cannot  here  delay  to  tell  of 
the  teachings  of  the  Scriptures,  and  to  unfold  what 
they  with  all  plainness  of  speech  declare,  respect- 
ing the  existence,  the  perfections,  and  the  purposes 
of  Jehovah,  and  to  show  you  what  a  flood  of  light 
direct  from  heaven  itself  is  here,  above  all  the  light 
that  nature  had,  and  all  that  nature  taught.     We 


254  THE    peincetoj^t    pulpit. 

might  do  this  in  a  manner  wliicli  would  make  you 
feel  that  here  was  an  immense  advance,  not  only 
upon  what  man  in  the  blindness  and  the  degrada- 
tion of  his  present  state  knows  without  a  revela- 
tion, but  upon  all  that  in  the  uprightness  of  his 
original  condition  he  could  have  known  without  it. 
The  race  was  kept  in  pupilage  for  centuries ;  teacher 
after  teacher  was  sent,  inspired  from  above,  to  train 
the  world  in  divine  knowledge ;  lesson  after  lesson 
was  given  fresh  from  heaven ;  and,  as  if  words 
alone  could  not  sufficiently  convey  ideas  of  celestial 
objects,  a  complete  system  of  symbolic  representa- 
tion was  introduced,  after  the  shadow  and  exam- 
ple of  heavenly  things;  holy  places  were  made,  by 
a  celestial  pattern,  as  figures  of  the  true ;  and  thus 
invisible  things  were  embodied  and  made  visible 
and  tangible.  Prophet  and  priest  fulfilled  each 
their  course  to  teach  the  people  knowledge ;  psalm- 
ists added  their  heaven-born  strains ;  the  Spirit  of 
God,  himself  the  author  of  these  various  lessons, 
tauglit  them  to  the  heart  illumined  by  his  grace. 
And  here,  again,  if  we  knew  not,  from  the  actual 
fact,  what  was  yet  in  reserve,  we  might  be  ready  to 
ask  what  farther  could  be  added  to  these  teachings, 
so  abundant,  so  comprehensive  and  so  explicit  of 
the  Word  of  God,  to  make  Jehovah  better  known  ? 
And  yet,  though  the  language  of  inspired  com- 
munication may  leave  nothing  untold  which  words 
can  convey,  and  nothing  farther  to  be  desired, 
nothing  even  possible,  in  the  way  of  description  of 
the  nature  and  perfections  of  the  Most  High  ;  still 
it  would  introduce  us  to  a  nearer  acquaintance  with 


W  .      II  E  X  R  Y      G  II  E  E  N  .  'J .)) 

this  dread  Being  if,  instead  of  merely  distantly 
hearing  aLout  him,  we  should  be  made  witnesses 
of  his  acts,  and  be  permitted  to  gaze  direct  upon 
positive  exhibitions  of  those  attributes  of  power, 
and  justice,  and  grace,  of  which  we  had  been  told. 
Here  is  another  advance  in  the  presentation  of  the 
knowledge  of  God.     Neither  can  we  dilate  upon 
this,  but  only  refer  you  in  the  general  to  those 
immediate  workmgs  of  his  miraculous  power,  by 
which  he  has,  again  and  again,  accomplished  his 
designs  of  mercy  and  of  justice.     Thus,  the  fearful 
overthrow  of  Sodom,  the  plagues  sent  on  hardened 
Pharaoh,  the  judgments  on  mumuring  Israel,  speak 
more  impressively  than  any  language,  the  holiness, 
the  justice,  and  the  dreadful  vengeance  of  our  God. 
So  the  various  interpositions  of  God  on  behalf  of 
his  people,  for  their  deliverance  from  danger  and  for 
their  rescue  from  their  foes,  the  magnificence  of  his 
descent  on  Sinai,  the  food  he  vouchsafed  them  in 
the  desert,  the  guidance  of  the  pillar  of  cloud  and 
of  fire,  give  a  more  vivid  conception  of  God,  and 
let  us  more  into  the  beatings  of  his  gracious  heart, 
and  show  us  more  of  the  glory  of  his  nature  than 
any  words  could  express. 

And  now  one  might,  with  strong  appearance  of 
reason,  conclude  that  the  various  modes  of  reveal- 
ing God  must  be  complete,  and  that  nothing  more 
can  be  imagined  to  be  added  to  those  already  re- 
cited. The  existence  and  the  perfections  of  God  are 
written  upon  every  fragment  of  creation ;  his  very 
image  is  impressed  upon  the  soul  of  man ;  his  na- 
ture and  attributes  are  fully  and  explicitly  taught 


256  Tll  E     P  E  I  K  C  E  T  0  N      PULPIT. 

in  Ms  Word ;  they  are  clearly  displayed  in  tlie  acts 
of  power,  and  mercy,  and  judgment,  done  by  lilm 
amongst  men.  Possessed  of  tliese,  we  would  liave 
said  tliat  no  new  plan  could  be  devised  to  add  any- 
thing to  the  completeness  of  those  already  in  exist- 
ence ;  and  that,  if  any  accession  were  to  be  made 
to  the  knowledge  we  possess  respecting  God,  it 
must  come,  not  in  some  new  form  of  communica- 
tion, but  by  enlarging  the  channel  of  the  old ;  it 
must  be  by  God's  making  an  increased  display  of 
himself  in  his  works  of  creation  and  providence, 
or  enabling  us  to  see  with  greater  distinctness  what 
is  already  written  there ;  or  by  rendering  his  image 
on  man's  heart  more  distinct  and  perfect;  or  by 
adding:  some  new  revelation  reo:ardino;  himself  to 

O  CD  CI 

his  inspired  word ;  or  by  some  yet  unheard-of,  im- 
mediate, and  supernatural  exhibition  of  his  attri- 
butes. And  still  the  wisdom  of  God  has  shown  us 
that  it  was  not  yet  exhausted,  that  there  was  some- 
thing yet  possible,  superior  to  them  all.  We  would 
have  pronounced  it  incredible,  had  it  not  actually 
occurred.  It  is  for  the  invisible  God  to  make  him- 
self visible,  and  assume  a  habitation  among  men, 
to  be  born,  and  live,  and  die.  This,  w^hich  was  in 
api^earance  forbidden  by  his  spirituality,  his  omni- 
presence, and  his  eternity,  was  nevertheless  accom- 
plished, by  God  being  manifested  in  the  flesh ;  and 
now,  in  the  language  of  one  of  the  appointed  wit- 
nesses of  this  stupendous  event,  we  have  heard,  we 
have  seen  with  our  eyes,  we  have  looked  upon  him, 
and  our  hands  have  handled  that  eternal  life  which 
was  with  the  Father,  and  was  manifested  unto  us. 


^V .      IIENEY      GREEN.  257 

The  unseen,  eternal,  omnipotent  God  dressed  liim- 
self  in  a  limnan  form,  and  gave  himself  a  local, 
temporal,  tangible  existence,  so  as  to  bring  him- 
self within  reach  of  our  corporeal  senses ;  he  came 
down  to  dwell  among  us,  not  by  a  mere  symbol 
of  his  presence,  but  really,  personally,  visibly. 
And  thus  he  disclosed  himself  to  man,  not  at 
second  hand,  through  the  ministry  of  his  servants, 
nor  by  occasional  and  momentary  displays  of  his 
own  dread  power  and  magnificence,  but  by  a  life 
of  intimate,  uninterrupted  converse  in  their  midst. 
AVe  now  no  longer  merely  read  about  him,  or  hear 
of  him,  or  reason  respecting  him,  or  look  upon  his 
likeness  which  we  bear  within  us  (alas !  almost 
obliterated),  or  gaze  upon  the  dread  workings  of 
one  himself  concealed  from  sight;  but  we  have 
been  with  him  and  seen  him,  listened  to  his  words, 
observed  his  acts,  witnessed  his  Spirit,  marked  the 
tenor  of  his  life,  been  admitted  to  a  close,  endear- 
ing familiarity  with  him.  We  have  not,  indeed, 
been  taken  up  to  heaven  to  see  God  there ;  but, 
what  is  better  far  for  us,  he  has  come  down  to  earth 
and  manifested  himself  here.  And  he  is  disclosed 
to  us,  not  attended  by  the  voice  louder  than  the 
peal  of  seven  thunders,  the  dread  magnificence, 
the  blinding  glory,  the  terrific  displays  of  power 
which  would  have  made  our  flesh  to  quake  upon 
us,  and  deprived  us  of  all  conscious  exercise  of  rea- 
son, if  not  of  hfe.  But  the  Di\anity  is  so  softened 
down  to  our  weak  senses,  that  we  can  bear  to  see 
the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.  In 
seeing  him  we  see  the  Father.     The  God  whom  no 


258  THE   PRiisrcETOisr   pulpit. 

man  hatli  seen  at  any  time,  tlie  only  begotten  Son 
hath  declared.  In  the  person  of  Jesus,  who  was 
himself  the  true  God  and  eternal  life,  who  is  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God,  the  brightness  of  his  , 
glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,  the  Word 
of  God,  he  has  been  exhibited  to  view.  What  the 
written  word  of  God  labours  to  spread  out  for  us 
on  the  page,  that  Jesus  was  in  his  whole  person — the 
revelation  of  God.  In  seeing  Christ,  we  gaze  on 
him,  whom  else  no  man  can  see  and  live.  He  is  no 
longer  the  unseen,  the  unknown, — he  is  the  mani- 
fested Deity. 

It  is  interesting,  after  contemplating  the  great 
truths  and  important  facts  of  the  Bible,  in  the  cer- 
tainty of  their  presentation  and  th«  perfection  of 
their  outline,  and  it  gives  us  a  fresh  conviction  how 
admirably  they  are  adajDted  to  the  wants  of  man, 
to  turn  to  those  without  a  revelation  and  see  how 
the  deep  necessities  of  human  nature  made  them- 
selves felt  even  there,  and  created  earnest  longings 
and  dim  anticij)ations  of  the  truth  even  among 
those  who  were  ignorant  of  it  in  its  reality ;  to  find 
that  as  we  stray  among  the  distorted  fancies  of 
heathendom,  and  their  gross  absurdities,  and  their 
frantic  abominations,  we  may  pick  up,  here  and 
there,  battered  unsightly  fragments  of  the  polished 
and  symmetrical  statue  of  ti-uth,  which,  it  is  true, 
we  could  never  gather  into  one,  nor  even  from  these 
confused  and  scattered  fragments  image  to  our- 
selves the  figure  that  they  formed,  but  which,  with 
a  model  of  the  statue  before  us,  we  can  neverthe- 
less recognize  and  assign  each  to  its  place.     And 


AV.     HENRY     GF.E  EX.  '259 

now,  tlie  liumau  form  tliey  mostly  gave  tlieir  gods, 
their  incarnations  and  apotlieoses,  tlie  fabled  inter- 
course of  gods  and  men,  gods  dwelling  on  tlie  earth, 
and  great  deliverers  born  of  a  pure  virgin,— what 
are  these,  found  up  and  down  the  Pagan  world,  but 
blind  nature  unconsciously  yearning  after  the  truth, 
which  we  behold  in  Jesus,  of  "  God  manifest  in  the 

flesh?" 

Some  have  busied  themselves  in  the  search  for 
heathen  parallels  to  this  and  other  Christian  truths, 
with  the  view  of  bringing  them  into  discredit,  by 
thus  impliedly  rating  them  as  of  equal  authority 
with  acknowledged   falsehoods.     And   they  have 
paraded  the  results  of  their  search  with  an  air  of 
triumph,  as  though  they  had  convinced  themselves 
that  the  mcarnation  of  Jesus  was  no  more  entitled 
to  belief  than  the  incarnations  of  Brahma,  or  the 
trinity  in  Jehovah  were  no  more  to  be  regarded 
than  that  of  the  Hindoo  godhead,  and  as  though 
the  infinite  superiority  of  Christian  truth  above 
Pagan   error   did   not  prevent   both  from  stand- 
ing on   a  precise  level.    But  no  amount   of  spu- 
rious  coin   that   can    be   shown   me,  shall   make 
me  cast  away  the  genuine  of  which  it  is  the  at- 
tempted though  worthless  representation.     I  find 
in  Christianity  the  truth  pure  and  unadulterated— 
the  genuine  coin  bearing  the  stamp  of  Heaven. 
And  I  shall  not  relinquish  it  because  there  may  be 
discovered  analogies  in  the   superstitions   of  the 
Pagan.     I  have  no  fear  of  such  discoveries.     I  ra- 
ther welcome  them,  and  lay  hold  of  every  one  that 
is  brought  me,  as  to  my  mind  affording  additional 


260  THE     PRINCETOTT    PULPIT. 

confirmation  of  tlie  Bible  faitli ;  for  I  find  in  sucli 
analogies  fresli  evidence  that  tlie  Scrij^ture  trutli  is 
tlie  trutli  whicli  man  requires,  seeing  that  by  neces- 
sity of  nature,  as  it  were,  lie  still  blindly  gropes 
after  it,  even  wlien  it  is  not  given  him  from  above. 
And  now  we  ought,  for  the  proper  presentation 
of  our  subject,  to  go  into  some  detail  regarding  the 
various  perfections  of  the  Divine  Nature,  and  show 
how,  in  respect  to  them  all,  our  knowledge  receives 
new  confirmation  and  additional  clearness  by  this 
manifestation  of  God  in  the  flesh  ;  and  how,  in  the 
case  of  many,  it  receives  large  accessions  above  all 
that  was  previously  known,  or  could,  apart  from 
the  incaiTiation,  be  known  regarding  them.  And 
here  be  it  observed,  that  we  are  not  now  speaking 
of  Jesus  as  a  teacher.  We  are  not  comparing  the 
instructions  which  He  the  seal  of  all  the  prophets  de- 
livered, with  those  which  had  previously  been  com- 
municated by  others  under  the  guidance  of  His 
Spirit.  Though  if  this  were  our  theme,  we  would 
claim  for  Him  emj)hatically  the  name  and  the  cha- 
racter of  the  Great  Teacher,  and  we  fixncy  that  we 
would  not  find  it  difiicult  to  show,  that  the  new 
truths  which  He  delivered,  and  the  new  force  and 
clearness  which  old  truths  received  from  His  lips, 
place  the  dispensation  which  He  introduced  in  com- 
parison with  that  which  preceded  it,  as  the  bright- 
ness of  noonday  to  the  early  dawn.  It  is  not, 
however,  the  superiority  of  the  instructions  which 
He,  who  spake  as  man  never  spake,  communicated, 
that  our  subject  invites  us  to  consider,  but  simply 
the  manifestation  of  God  in  His  person. 


AV.     IIENKY    GREEN.  261 

Tlie  very  existence  of  God  receives  new  confir- 
matiou  here.  Indeed,  some  Lave  referred  to  the 
miracles  of  Jesus  as  affording  to  tlieir  minds  tlie 
only  argument  which  was  absolutely  irrefragable, 
that  there  is  an  intelligent  being,  the  author  and 
the  Lord  of  Nature.  The  unity  of  God  is  also 
freshly  demonstrated  both  against  the  thousand  dei- 
ties of  an  idolatrous  Paganism,  and  the  two  inde- 
pendent principles  of  good  and  evil  of  the  Persian 
superstition,  by  the  unlimited  authority  which 
Jesus  freely  exercised,  commanding  obedience  in 
the  kingdom  of  darkness  as  well  as  that  of  light. 
But  we  cannot  delay  on  these  and  similar  points. 

We  pass  to  the  holiness  of  God.  This  was  set 
in  a  light  by  the  incarnation  in  which  it  never  ap- 
peared before,  and  in  which  (without  designing  to 
limit  the  wisdom  or  power  of  God)  we  may  say 
that,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  it  could  not  have  ap- 
peared without  it.  Our  proof  of  this  is  drawn  not 
from  the  fact,  melancholy  as  it  is,"  that  the  idea  of 
holiness  is  entirely  lost  among  the  heathen,  to  whom 
God  has  not  made  Himself  known.  They  have 
not  only  parted  with  its  reality  within  themselves 
and  in  their  own  practice,  but  the  very  notion  of  it 
has  vanished  from  among  them.  And  amono-  all 
the  attributes  which  the  Pagan  ascribes  to  his  dei- 
ties,—some  of  them  of  the  most  horrible  and  shock- 
ing character, — that  of  holiness  is  never  once  to  be 
met  with.  And  when  Christianity  comes  to  be  in- 
troduced among  them,  our  missionaries  have  to 
grapple  with  this  giant  difficulty  in  the  outset,  of 
waking  in  the  breasts  of  a  people  an  idea,  which 


262  THE     PKINCETOlSr     PULPIT. 

has  died  out  ages  since,  of  wliicli  none  among  tliem 
have  any  sort  of  conception,  and  for  which  not  even 
a  tolerable  equivalent  can  be  found  in  their  lan- 
guage. 

But  though  the  heathen  world  had  lost  this  most 
necessary  idea  of  God's  holiness,  it  was  preserved 
among  the  people  who  possessed  a  revelation  ;  yet 
even  among  them  God's  holiness  was  not  known, 
and  it  was  impossible  that  any  verbal  revelation 
should  teach  it  as  it  became  known  through  the 
medium  of  the  incarnation.  And  here  we  cannot 
pretend  to  detail  the  various  ways  in  which  the  in- 
carnation illustrated  God's  holiness.  It  will  doubt- 
less spontaneously  occur  to  you  all  that  the  very 
errand  of  Jesus  was  to  magnify  God's  holy  law,  and 
to  destroy  sin  as  the  object  of  His  supreme  abhor- 
rence ;  and  that  the  necessity  here  exhibited  of  a 
perfect  atonement  for  sin,  before  even  God  himself 
can  consistently  with  His  nature  deliver  the  sinner 
from  death,  sheds  a  lustre  on  theholiness  of  God 
which  nothing  that  we  can  conceive  of  but  this  could 
ever  have  put  there.  Without,  however,  stopping 
to  unfold  these  and  other  considerations  to  which 
your  minds  will  readily  turn,  and  which  amply 
establish  the  point  before  us,  there  is  another 
aspect  less  frequently  presented,  and  which  per- 
haps may  not  immediately  suggest  itself  to  all 
my  hearers,  in  which  the  incarnation  illustrates,  as 
nothing  else  could,  God's  holiness. 

We  are  told  of  the  spotless  holiness  of  God.  We 
see  it  in  all  His  acts,  and  all  His  dealings  with  His 
people.     We  witness  ourselves,  or  have  confirmed 


W  .     11  E N  E  Y     G  K  E  E  N  .  263 

unto  US  by  tliose  wlio  did,  the  immediate  exertions 
of  His  power,  wliicli  liad  for  tlieir  object  tlie  dis- 
play of  His  holiness.  And  yet  this  is  the  holiness 
of  God  in  heaven — a  God  who  has  all  things  at  His 
command,  to  whom  no  possible  temptation  can  con- 
sequently be  presented,  and  who,  apart  from  the 
holiness  of  His  nature,  cannot,  from  His  very  inde- 
pendence and  all-sufficiency,  have  even  the  slightest 
shadow  of  a  motive  to  do  what  is  wrong.  What 
is  there  to  exhibit  to  us  that  this  unsullied  holiness 
of  God  arises  from  the  perfect  purity  of  His  being, 
and  is  not  in  part  the  mere  effect  of  His  infinite 
exaltation  ?  If  holiness  is  always  triumphant,  what 
is  there  which  so  evidently  brings  out  that  this  is 
due  to  His  ineffably  righteous  nature,  and  which  so 
positively  excludes  the  thought  that  this  may  in 
2)art  be  because  a  triumph  is  easily  gained  by  one 
who  is  beyond  the  reach  of  a  foe,  and  where  no 
danger  could  possibly  be  apprehended  ?  And 
what  is  there  which  positively  excludes  the  thought 
that  He  is  requiring  something  hard  of  man,  when 
He  demands  of  him  never  to  yield  to  a  temptation, 
nor  to  be  overcome  by  an  assault,  when  they  come 
so  thickly  and  so  powerfully  upon  him  ?  But  who 
is  not  conscious  that  a  new  and  decided  impression 
is  made  upon  his  mind,  when  he  sees  the  Most  High 
resign  for  a  season  the  infinite  exaltation  he  pos- 
sesses, take  a  frail  and  feeble  nature  with  all  its 
sinless  infirmities,  and  expose  Himself  to  tempta- 
tion, and  then  observes  how  with  all  the  weaknesses 
of  His  assumed  nature,  in  all  the  trials  to  which 
He  was  subjected,  and  though  He  was  tempted  in 


264  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

all  points  like  as  we  are,  He  was  nevertlieless  en- 
tirely free  from  the  least  taint  of  sin,  and  that  Christ 
fainting  in  the  desert  equally  with  Christ  ruling  on 
the  throne  of  the  heavens,  is  perfect  in  holiness  ? 
This  reveals  to  us  a  side  of  this  attribute,  and  un- 
der an  impressive  aspect,  which  but  for  the  incar- 
nation never  could  have  been  seen. 

And  thus  it  is  with  all  the  attributes  of  God. 
They  all  gather  fresh  lustre  from  the  mystery  of 
the  incarnation ;  and  when  they  are  viewed  in  the 
face  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  appear  with  an  impress- 
iveness  which  they  never  before  assumed.     Where 
was  the  long-suffering  of  God  ever  so  exhibited  as 
we  see  it  in  Jesus  ?     The  sparing  mercy  of  God  to 
rebellious  men  is  indeed  exhibited  in  His  provi- 
dence perpetually  toward  each  individual  sinner 
and  toward  the  whole  race.     It  is  a  proof  of  most 
amazing  long-suffering,  that  He  has  not  lost  all  pa- 
tience with  our  guilty  race,  and  that  the  iniquities, 
and  the  crimes,  and  the  abominations  which  are 
perpetrated  in  the  world,  have  not  provoked  Him 
to  sweep  the  whole  out  of  existence,  and  to  bear 
with  such  provocations  no  longer.     But  it  gives  us 
a  more  vivid  sense  of  this  long-suffering,  when  we 
see  God  coming  in  human  form,  and  dwelling  in 
the  very  midst  of  these  iniquities  and  provocations, 
becoming  himself  the  object  of  unmeasured  hos- 
tility, bearing  every  form  of  reproach  and  indig- 
nity, and  with  a  power  at  His  command  which 
would  have  consumed  offenders  in  a  moment,  allow- 
ing Himself  to  be  led  unresistingly  as  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter,  and  making  use  of  His  divine  prerogative 


W  .     II  E  N  R  Y     G  E  E  E  X  .  265 

only  to  open  paradise  to  tlie  penitent  thief,  while 
from  His  lips,  instead  of  imprecations,  we  hear  the 
voice  of  intercession,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  they 
know  not  what  they  do." 

If  He  had  given  proofs  before  of  His  regard  for 
the  human  race,  what  a  nearness  does  this  induce 
beyond  anything  else  that  is  conceivable,  that  He 
should  come  and  live  among  us  and  wear  a  human 
nature,  become  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our 
flesh,  partake  of  our  infirmities  and  weaknesses, 
that  He  might  deliver  us  from  them,  and  take  our 
nature  with  Him  to  glory,  and  seat  it  on  the  throne 
as  a  pledge  that  we  should  be  glorified  with  Him 
as  His  brethren,  as  the  members  of  His  body,  as 
a.  part  of  Himself !  And  how  is  the  love  of  God 
illustrated  by  the  incarnation !  This,  in  fact,  is  the 
great  proof  of  divine  love,  beside  which  every 
other,  however  vast  in  itself,  appears  diminutive. 
God  commendeth  His  love  toward  us,  in  that  while 
w^e  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us. 

And  so  if  we  had  time  to  speak  of  the  truth  of 
God  and  His  justice,  and  His  wisdom,  and  the  other 
perfections  of  His  nature,  we  should  see  how  all  of 
them  gain  a  new  radiance  from  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh.  This  is  our  warrant  for  saying  as  we  have 
said,  and  now  repeat,  that  the  incarnation  manifests 
God  to  men  as  He  was  never  exhibited  to  them  be- 
fore ;  and  that  if  it  brought  no  other  benefit  with  it 
than  this,  that  it  brought  God  nearer  to  us,  and  made 
Him  better  known,  it  would  deserve  still  to  be 
reckoned  an  unspeakable  gift,  and  would  be  worthy 
18 


266  THE     PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

of  the  highest  praises  that  can  throughout  eternity- 
be  paid. 

There  is  another  side  of  our  subject  which  we 
had  desired  to  present,  but  which  the  lateness  of 
the  hour  forbids  us  now  to  touch.  We  have  shown 
you  how  the  character  of  God  is  exhibited  to  man 
in  the  incarnation.  We  would  like  to  have  pointed 
out  to  you  how  the  feelings  of  man's  natural  heart 
toward  God  were  exhibited  here  likewise,  in  their 
treatment  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh ;  how  perfect 
goodness  and  celestial  excellence  raised  against  Him 
the  malice  which  betrayed,  condemned,  and  cruci- 
fied Him ;  and  how  it  is  the  same  enmity  of  the 
natural  heart  still  which  leads  so  many  to  side  with 
His  persecutors,  and  if  they  do  not  madly  cry  Away 
with  Him,  nevertheless  to  show  by  their  lives  as 
well  as  by  their  professions,  that  they  will  not 
have  this  man  to  reign  over  them. 


RELIGIOUS  RETIREMENT. 

BY 

THE    REV.   G.   M.   GIGER, 

ADJUNCT  PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK. 


And  in  the  morning,  rising  up  a  great  while  before  day,  He  went  out  and 
departed  into  a  solitary  place,  and  there  prayed. — Mark  i.  35. 

The  extreme  simplicity  and  conciseness,  wliich 
cliaracterize  the  Scripture  narratives,  veil,  from  the 
casual  and  unreflecting  reader,  their  full  beauty,  rich- 
ness and  power.  The  mere  outlines  of  scenes  and 
incidents  are  often  given,  which,  when  viewed  in 
the  light  of  their  attending  circumstances,  excite  us 
by  their  interest  and  melting  pathos,  or  become  in- 
vested with  grandeur  and  sublimity. 

Our  Saviour,  we  are  told,  had  been  laboriously 
engaged  the  day  previous  in  relieving  the  afflicted 
and  tormented  ;  for  "  at  even  when  the  sun  did  set, 
they  brought  unto  Him  all  that  were  diseased,  and 
them  that  were  possessed  with  devils."  Engaged, 
probably,  in  this  benevolent  work  till  late  at  night, 
He  then  retired  to  His  couch;  but  not  to  rest. 
His  soul  was  agonized  by  the  sufferings  of  His 
creatures ;  the  scenes  of  anguish  and  the  sights  of 
woe,  which  had  so  recently  passed  before  Him, 
filled  Him  with  sorrow.  He,  whose  heart  was  so 
keenly  sensitive  to  others'  grief,  and  so  deeply 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  was 
so    burdened    with    pity    and    compassion,   that 


268  THE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

"  rising  up  a  great  while  before  day,  He  went  out  and 
departed  into  a  solitary  place,  and  there  prayed." 

This  simple  incident  in  the  life  of  onr  Saviour 
should  inspire  us  with  love  and  gratitude  to  Him ; 
and  His  example,  in  thus  flying  from  the  society  of 
man,  to  seek  in  retirement  and  solitude  that  unin- 
terrupted converse  with  His  Father,  that  relief, 
that  comfort,  and  that  strength,  which  the  world 
cannot  give,  should  be  sufficient  to  teach  the  Chris- 
tian his  duty  in  this  respect,  and  to  show  him  where 
he  can  enjoy  the  privilege  of  communion  with  his 
God.  But  when  we  find  that  our  Lord  frequently 
and  liabitually  sought  retirement^  that  He  often  with- 
drew from  the  multitudes  who  pressed  so  eagerly 
after  Him,  and,  threading  the  mountain  defiles, 
sought  in  its  deep  ravines  and  hidden  recesses' soli- 
tudes for  secret  prayer;  when  we  see  Him  fre- 
quently retiring  to  that  lovely  garden  "  over  the 
brook  Kedron,"  and  amidst  its  solemn  shades  and 
leafy  grottoes,  praying  and  meditating ;  when  we 
find  Him  there  alone,  during  the  last  night  before 
His  crucifixion,  engaged  in  agonizing  prayer,  and 
earnestly  imploring  strength  from  His  Father  in 
heaven,  the  fact  becomes  invested  with  tenfold  im- 
port and  interest  to  all  who  wish  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  their  Divine  Exemplar. 

God,  in  creating  man^  had  this  important  duty 
and  privilege  in  view.  As  with  His  other  laws,  so 
with  regard  to  this  part  of  His  will,  He  has  im- 
pressed its  type  upon  nature.  He  created  the  day, 
with  its  busy,  noisy  life,  and  the  quiet  night,  when 
stillness  reigns  and  shuts  the  world  from  sight ;  the 


G.      M.     GIGEE.  2G9 

restless  ocean,  witli  its  ceaseless,  loud-resouudiug 
diapason,  and  tlie  gentle  river,  "  winding  at  its  own 
sweet  will ;"  tlie  roaring  tempest,  witli  its  crashing 
thunders,  and  the  sunny  calm ;  the  earth-shaking 
volcano,  and  at  its  foot  the  quiet  vale.  He  not 
only  created  man  a  social  being,  with  full  capacities 
of  receiving  enjoyment  from,  and  gifted  him  with 
faculties  for  imparting  knowledge  and  pleasure  to 
others,  but  He  also  supplied  him  with  loftier  facul- 
ties of  soul,  and  conferred  upon  him  the  high  pri- 
vilege of  communing  with  Him,  thus  affording  him 
the  power  to  cultivate  that  sj^iritual  part  of  his 
being,  which  places  him  in  the  scale  of  creation 
"  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels."  Therefore  he 
was  introduced  into  a  terrestrial  paradise  of  beauty, 
and  surrounded  with  everything  calculated  to  lift 
his  thoughts  to  heaven.  Out  of  its  leafy  luxun- 
ance  He  formed  for  him  attractive  and  secluded  re- 
treats— places  where  he  might  employ  his  time  in 
contemplation  and  devotion.  And  here,  in  these 
lovely,  sequestered  spots,  many  a  bright,  angelic 
being,  no  doubt,  conversed  with  Adam  concerning 
the  mysteries  of  the  U2:)per  world,  and  unravelled 
the  wonders  of  God's  great  universe;  and  here, 
too,  God  himself  condescended  to  visit  him.  "When 
the  sun  had  sunk  beneath  the  rocky  ramparts  of 
Paradise,  their  deepening  shadows  thickening  the 
sombre  twilight,  when  the  beasts  had  couched  to 
rest,  and  the  carolling  of  the  birds  had  ceased  and 
they  had  folded  their  wings  for  sleep,  when  the 
winds  had  lulled  to  the  softest  zephyrs,  and  all  na- 


270  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

ture  was  huslied  in  repose,  in  the  cool  of  tlie  calm 
evening,  God  walked  in  the  garden. 

In  accordance  with  the  obvious  wish  of  Jehovah, 
tlie  cmcient  saints^  whose  biographies  are  given  in 
the  Old  Testament,  frequently  practised  this  duty. 
How  eminently  was  it  characteristic  of  Daniel ! 
Though  his  life  was  threatened  in  consequence,  yet 
did  he  retire  thrice  a  day  to  his  chamber  to  pray. 
With  what  frequency  did  David  seek  retirement  ! 
How  often  do  we  find  him  communing  with  God 
through  the  still  watches  of  the  night !  How  often 
and  how  eagerly  did  he  fly  from  regal  pomp  and 
the  thronging,  distracting  cares  of  state,  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  and  privilege  of  secret  prayer  and  me- 
ditation !  The  sweet  music  of  that  magic  harp, 
now  quickly  vibrating  with  the  joyous  anthem  of 
praise  and  triumph,  now  trembling  with  the  soft, 
plaintive  notes  of  sorrow  and  contrition,  has  been 
floated  down  through  ages,  finds  a  responsive  echo 
in  the  heart  of  every  Christian,  and  will  roll  its 
undulations  into  the  concert  of  everlasting  song. 

The  primitive  Christians^  also,  practised  this 
duty  to  a  great  extent.  Prevented  by  their  re- 
lentless persecutors  from  worshipping  in  public  as- 
semblies ;  hunted  like  wild  beasts  ;  driven  from  the 
abodes  of  men  to  the  shelter  of  mountains  and 
almost  impenetrable  forests ;  in  these  rocky  retreats, 
in  the  subterranean  caverns  of  the  earth,  they 
adored  their  God  in  secret,  secure  from  the  intru- 
sion of  those  who  thirsted  for  their  blood.  Oh ! 
how  precious  did  this  primal ege  at  length  become  ! 
What  sweet  sanctuaries  were  these  gloomy  rocts 


G.     M.     GIGER.  271 

and  caves  !     How  often,  from  these  deep  rapines, 
overhung  with  dark,  beetling  crags,  did  the  songs 
of  praise  and  the  voice  of  earnest,  soul-wrestliug 
prayer  ascend  as  a  cloud  of  rich,  inextinguishable 
incense  to  the  skies  ?     Highly  did  they  appreciate 
and  enjoy  this  constant  communion  with  God,  for 
they  learned  to  feel  that  it  was  not  always  solitude 
to  be  alone.     So  powerful  was  its  influence  upon 
those  compelled  by  persecution  to  resort  to  it,  that 
men,  in  later  times,  mistaking  the  cause,  attributing 
to  solitude  and  seclusion  what  was  due  to  the  mo- 
tive which  prompted,  and  the  proper  and  sacred 
employment  of  it,  sought  this  retirement  from  dif- 
ferent motives  and  for  other  purposes.     Many,  be- 
coming disgusted  with  society,  and  disappointed  in 
their  aspirations  after  wealth,  power,  and  worldly 
happiness,  turned  misanthropes,  and  leaving  the 
busy  haunts  of  men,  shut  themselves  up  in  caverns 
and  secluded  places,  there  in  suUenness  to  brood 
over  their  disappointments  and  nurse  their  con- 
tempt and  hatred  of  society  and  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures.    Others  made  it  a  pretext  for  extraordinary 
piety  and  sanctity,  and  thus  was  originated  the  un- 
scriptural,  pernicious  system  of  monasticism. 

But  here  we  have  an  instance  of  the  beautiful 
consistency  which  characterized  the  life  of  our  Sa- 
viour. The  whole  of  the  preceding  day,  even  far 
into  the  night.  He  had  been  actively  engaged  in  re- 
lieving suffering  humanity,  in  cunng  the  diseased, 
and  in  casting  out  devils.  Although  He  retired  to 
the  mountain  to  pray,  it  was  after  He  had  fed  the 
thousands  who  resorted  to  Him,  and  preached  to 


272  THE    PKINCETON    PULPIT. 

them  tlie  word  of  life.  He  combined  tlie  most  la- 
borious efforts  to  promulgate  the  blessed  Gospel, 
and  relieve  the  diseased,  with  frequent  seclusion. 

To  us,  however,  the  days  of  persecution  are  over. 
Every  man  can  here  worshij)  God  under  his  own 
vine  and  fig-tree,  without  fear  or  molestation.  The 
recluse  belongs  to  other  times,  and  is  Aaewed  as  the 
being  of  a  romantic,  obsolete  age ;  and,  thank  God ! 
that  night  of  the  world  is  passing  away.  But 
have  we  not  some  reason  to  fear  that  the  practice 
of  religious  retirement,  the  frequent,  habitual  com- 
munion with  God,  which  distinguished  primitive 
Christianity,  is  passing  away  with  them  ?  Is  not 
this  duty,  in  our  day,  too  much  neglected  ?  We 
fear  that  such  is  the  case.  The  enterprises  of  the 
Church  do  indeed  demand  the  most  energetic  acti- 
vity of  Christians,  but  should  not  supersede  the 
duty  of  retired  contemplation  and  devotion.  Christ 
felt  as  fully  the  need  of  activity  as  any  modern 
Christian.  He  had  as  great  an  appreciation  of  the 
vastness  of  the  field  of  labour,  of  the  world  lying 
in  wickedness,  as  the  most  active  now.  None  will 
deny  that  He  laboured  as  much,  as  incessantly  as 
the  most  devoted  Christian  of  the  jDresent  day,  and 
yet  He  often  retired  and  spent  hours,  aye,  whole 
nights,  in  secret  prayer  and  meditation.  The  fact 
is,  men  are  so  prone  to  place  reliance  on  their  own 
efforts,  that  they  are  constantly  multiplying  machi- 
nery, and  their  time  and  attention  are  so  much  ab- 
sorbed in  its  improvement  in  the  vain  exj^ectation 
of  creating  power ;    there   is  so  much  time  con- 


G.     M.     GIGER.  273 

sumed  in  parade  and  ostentatious  efforts,  that  tliey 
acquire  very  little  relisli  for  private  supplication  to 
God.  The  same  Great  Master,  who  commanded 
His  disciples  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  all  nations, 
also  advised  the  Christian — "when  thou  prayest, 
enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou  hast  shut  thy 
door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret,  and 
thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward 
thee  openly,"  and  thy  labours  also.  If  Chris- 
tians would  resort  more  frequently  to  their 
closets,  and  thus  become  more  deeply  imbued  with 
the  spirit  of  their  Master,  and  of  those  who  devoted 
their  whole  substance  to  the  service  of  Christ,  we 
might,  probably,  have  fewer  plans  and  eloquent 
speeches,  less  theatrical  Christianity,  but  more  effi- 
cient labourers  and  more  fruit. 

The  importance  of  religious  retirement  cannot 
be  doubted  in  such  an  age  as  ours,  in  which  there 
is  so  much  error  and  infidelity,  and  when  the  very 
activity  and  excitement,  connected  with  our  eccle- 
siastical operations,  are  adapted  to  divert  us  from 
the  maintenance  and  culture  of  personal  and  spiri- 
tual piety.  The  tendency  of  the  age  is  to  scepti- 
cism, of  an  insinuating,  plausible  kind.  It  does  not 
stalk  abroad  in  its  bold,  repulsive  character,  with 
the  hideous,  hell-glazed  features  of  \^le  and  blas- 
phemous infidelity,  but  comes  in  the  attractive 
dress  of  liberality,  of  fashionable  maxim,  with  the 
soft  whisper  of  exjDcdiency  and  worldly  policy. 
We  must  suit  our  conduct,  our  plans  to  the  prevail- 
ing tastes  of  the  day ;  we  must  not  shock  the  world 
by  singularity,  but  yield  as  far  as  possible  to  its 


274  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

fashions,  its  theories,  and  its  forms.  Thus  we  are 
gradually  led  from  the  truth,  and  begin  to  look  for 
motives  and  principles  in  the  world,  which  ought 
to  be  searched  for  only  in  the  will  of  God.  How 
necessary  that  we  should  frequently  withdraw  from 
these  seductive  wiles  of  our  enemies,  that  we  may 
carefully  examine  them  in  the  pure  light  of  God's 
truth,  and  detect  their  falsity !  How  anxious  we 
should  be  that  our  breastplate  and  heavenly  armour 
be  entire  and  impenetrable,  even  to  the  finest 
pointed  shaft  of  infidelity  and  error  !  How  stead- 
ily should  we  keep  in  view  that  bright  ray  of  light 
which  streams  from  the  upper  world  to  guide  our 
steps,  for 

"  The  world's  infectious  ;  few  bring  back  at  eve, 
"  Immaculate,  the  manners  of  the  morn." 

Not  from  this  source  alone,  as  we  have  just  inti- 
mated, is  the  Christian  in  danger.  In  the  present 
day,  his  mind  is  apt  to  be  filled  with  great  opera- 
tions. The  conversion  of  a  single  soul,  the  salva- 
tion of  his  neighbour  or  child  is  too  insignificant  for 
his  enlarged  and  expanded  views.  His  own  per- 
sonal defects  and  spiritual  wants  are  gilded  by  the 
illusive  brightness  of  the  world-grasping  plans  in 
which  he  is  engaged,  his  own  individuality  is  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  magnitude  and  magnificence  of  the 
world-regenerating  engines  in  impetuous  action 
around  him ; — their  thunderings  di'own  that  still, 
small  voice,  which  whispers  to  his  own  heart,  en- 
treating an  audience.  He  is  caught  in  the  rushing 
blast  of  enthusiasm,  dashed  along  for  awhile  in  the 


G.    M.     GIGER.  275 

wake  of  these  powerful  engines,  but  gradually  the 
fires  of  his  own  piety  go  out,  the  needle  has  rusted 
on  its  pivot,  and  he  is  left  at  last  a  sailless,  chartless 
wreck  upon  the  treacherous  sea  of  the  world.  He 
is  like  the  philosopher,  who  spent  his  whole  time 
and  patrimony  in  endeavouring  to  discover  some 
priuci])le,  some  magic  stone,  to  save  the  race  from 
hunger  and  from  want,  and  died  himself  at  last  of 
poverty  and  starvation.  How  insiduously  does  this 
out-of-door  Christianity  operate !  How  soon,  when 
not  balanced  and  regulated  by  personal  piety,  do 
we  become  puffed  up  with  seK-righteousness,  with 
great  conceit  of  the  power  and  influence  we  are 
wielding !  How  seductive  the  world's  applause ! 
How  it  betrays  us  into  ostentatious  benevolence ! 
How  tame  and  tiresome  does  that  quiet  closet  be- 
come, where  are  no  hosannas  to  greet  our  ears,  no 
trumpeting  of  good  works  that  are  seen  of  men,  no 
brilliant  schemes,  but  the  secret  converse  with  our 
OTVTi  poor,  sinful  hearts,  the  humiliating  spectacle 
of  our  utter  unworthiness  and  the  sense  of  our 
necessary  and  entire  dependence  upon  God.  I 
would  not  undervalue  these  organizations  and  pub- 
lic enterprises.  They  are  powerful  means  for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men,  but  they 
are  still  mere  means,  engines  'tis  true  with  tre- 
mendous capacities,  but  in  themselves  possessing  no 
power.  The  power  must  come  from  God.  With- 
out his  blessing,  they  are  worse  than  useless.  That 
power  is  called  into  action  by  the  true  holiness  of 
his  childi'en.  It  can  be  obtained  only  by  the 
assiduous  culture  of  personal  piety,  by  communion 


276  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

with,  him,  and  by  constant  prayer.  This  is  the 
gi'ancl  conductor  between  earth  and  heaven.  It 
is  prayer  that  "moves  the  hand  that  moves  the 
world." 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  they  are  the 
most  efficient  who  are  always  out  in  the  world  and 
in  a  constant  state  of  bustle  and  excitement. 
Christians  are  too  apt  to  guage  their  usefulness,  and 
calculate  the  success  of  their  plans  by  the  numbers 
engaged  in  carrying  them  forward,  and  the  amount 
of  excitement  attending  their  operations.  How 
often  do  they  measure  God's  blessing  by  the  num- 
ber of  dollars  and  cents  contributed  towards  their 
prosecution  !  But  this  is  a  delusion.  The  humblest 
Christian  in  his  closet  may  be  more  powerful  than 
the  greatest  organization.  See  yon  mighty  vessel 
ploughing  the  ocean,  dashing  the  spray  in  clouds 
around  its  resistless  prow;  hear  the  thundering 
roar  of  its  machinery  ;  the  soul  of  that  leviathan, 
he  who  governs  it  at  will  and  directs  its  course 
through  the  stormy,  trackless  deep,  and  controls  its 
hidden  forces,  is  in  that  retii'ed  spot  upon  deck,  the 
quietest  being  in  the  ship  ; — it  is  he,  who  has  his 
eye  fixed  upon  the  compass,  and  his  hand  upon  the 
helm. 

Besides  in  such  great  enterprises  there  is  the 
more  urgent  need  of  calm,  prayerful  deliberation, 
and  consultation,  not  with  your  weak,  short-sight- 
ed fellow-mortal,  but  with  God,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  every  good  word  and  work. 

JEven  for  luorldly  piiTposes^  men  find  occasional 
and  sometimes  frequent  retirement  necessary. 


G.    M.    gictEr.  277 

The  Mercliant  often  secludes  himself  for  the  pur- 
pose of  forming  and  arranging  his  plans.    How  his 
mind  becomes  absorbed  with  the  calculations  which 
involve  his  pecuniary  advancement,  in  estimating 
the  chances  of  success  in  certain  enterprises,  or  in 
designing  means  for  extricating  his  property  from 
threatened  loss !     And  do  not  you  find  it  necessary 
to   withdraw   from   the   exciting   and   distracting 
scenes  of  life,  to  examine  into  your  account  with 
high  heaven  ?    Are  you  not  interested  in  ascertain- 
ing  how  you  stand  with  your  Maker,  who  will 
demand  a   full  account  of  the  manner  in  which 
you  have  employed  the  talents  committed  to  your 
care  ?     Is  it  of  no  importance  to  you  to  discover 
how  you  may  increase    your  treasure  in  heaven, 
a' treasure  more  precious  far  than  all  the  untold 
wealth  of  gold  and  gems  buried  in  a   thousand 
mines  ? — Look  at  that  Pliiloscyplw^  bending  with 
intensest  interest  over  alembic  and  crucible,  watch- 
ing far  into  the  still  night  the  mysterious  operar 
tions  of  nature,  striving  to  elicit  a  knowledge  of 
the  laws  which  keep  the  created  universe  in  har- 
monious movement,  or  to  deduce  some  principle 
which  may  contribute  to  the  comfort,  the  health 
and  the  hap23iues3  of  mankind.     And  do  you  feel 
no  desire  to  investigate  the  laws  of  God's  moral 
government  ?     Is  not  a  knowledge  of  his  will  as 
important  to  you  as  that  of  the  laws  of  nature  to 
the  philosopher  ?     You  cannot  be  truly  devoted  to 
Christ  without  feeling  something  of  the  same  ab- 
sorbing interest,  of  the  same  desire  to  commune 
with  the  Father  of  lights,  and  to  obtain  from  him. 


218  TUE    PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

grace  to  fit  you  for  your  Cliristian  duties.  Will 
you,  can  you  go  tlirougli  life  without  constantly 
supplicating  God  to  make  you  instrumental  in  sav- 
ing your  fellow-men  from  that  fearful  wrath  to 
come  ?  Should  the  Philosopher  consume  his  time 
and  energies  for  the  benefit  of  man's  physical  be- 
ing, and  you  not  feel  it  a  duty  to  obtain  power  and 
direction  from  on  high,  to  release  them  from  the 
bonds  of  iniquity,  and  the  degradation  of  sin,  and 
doint  out  to  them  the  path  to  eternal  felicity  ? 
shall  the  Poet  court  retirement  and  solitude,  that 
he  may  indulge  in  the  enjoyments  of  fancy,  revel 
in  the  vast,  beautiful  regions  of  imagination,  and 
send  forth  his  winged  thoughts  to  bring  him  un- 
substantial visions  from  the  ideal  world ;  and  will 
you  refuse  to  retire  that  you  may  commune  with 
the  Father  of  spirits  and  meditate  with  rapture 
upon  the  glorious  scenes  of  that  bright  world  to 
which  you  are  an  heir,  whose  splendours  far  trans- 
cend the  brightest  vision  of  the  Poet's  dream  ? 

Religious  retirement  afibrds  the  hest  opportimity 
for  increasing  our  religious  knowledge.  The  value 
of  this  is  obvious  from  the  truth  that  religioiu^ 
Icnoivledge  is  essential  to  a  true  and  saving  faith. 
Faith  is  the  Christian's  telescope ; — it  is  the  key  of 
heaven  ; — "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen."  We  must  have  some 
true  knowledge  of  God's  holy  law ;  of  our  moral 
condition,  and  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  or  we  can 
have  no  true  and  saving  faith ;  and  the  more  sanc- 
tified light  we  possess,  the  more  intelligent  and  ac- 
ceptable will  be  our  faith.     Now,  as  retirement 


G.     M.     GIGER.  279 

aftbrds  us  the  best  opportunities  for  increasing  our 
religious  knowledge,  it  is  in  this  respect  of  gi-eat 
advantage.  The  objects  that  we  seek  are  impal- 
pable, and  invisible  to  the  mortal  eye.  The  great 
God,  the  Holy  Spirit ;  the  denizens  of  the  skies,  the 
celestial  city  and  its  mansions  not  made  with 
hands,  its 

"  Choral  song,  and  burst 


Sublime  of  instrumental  harmony," 

are,  to  the  gross  senses  of  the  world,  vague,  indis- 
tinct, unappreciable  mysteries.  For,  as  it  is  writ- 
ten, "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have 
entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  which 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  But 
God  hath  revealed  them  unto  us  by  his  Spirit,  for 
the  Spirit  searcheth  the  deep  things  of  God."  The 
true  Christian,  who  delights  in  communion  with 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  meditates  upon  his  law,  daily 
acquires  a  stronger  vision  and  gains  a  clearer  and 
more  distinct  appreciation  of  heavenly  realities. 
They  begin  to  assume  for  him  a  distinctness  almost 
equal  to  that  of  the  objects  of  natural  sense  around 
him ;  and  eventually  he  is  impressed  with  the  un- 
substantial, fleeting  character  of  terrestrial  things, 
and  the  greater  permanency  and  reality  of  the 
heavenly  world ;  for, 

"  All,  all  on  earth  is  shadow,  all  beyond 
Is  substance." 

In  the  scientific  world,  Bacon  is  a  striking  exam- 
ple of  this  wonderful  power  of  knowledge.  Be- 
coming intimately  acquainted  with  the  workings 


280        THE    princeto:p^    pulpit. 

of  nature  and  deeply  versed  in  her  laws,  lie  was 
enabled  to  penetrate  far  into  tlie  future,  and  view 
results  such  as  when  described  by  him,  were  looked 
upon  as  romantic  extravagance,  rivalling  and  sur- 
passing the  fabled  wonders  of  eastern  story ;  and 
yet  the  greatest  of  these  visions  have  been  realized. 
The  mighty  power  of  steam  is  doing  the  work  of 
the  world,  impelling  sailless  vessels  which  outstrip 
the  wind,  and  the  chariot  exceeding  in  velocity  the 
fleet  horse  of  the  desert ; — thoughts  are  flying  with 
the  quickness  of  light  around  the  globe,  and  the 
lightning  has  been  forced  to  act  as  the  amanuensis 
of  man.     Thus  the  Christian,  by  becoming  familiar 
with  the  oracles  of  God,  by  meditating  upon  heav- 
enly themes,  can  acquire  an  insight  of  divine  things, 
surpassed  only  by  inspiration.    He  can  thus  acquire 
a  faith  which  is  firm,  a  knowledge  which  is  certain. 
Thus  it  was  with  those  blessed  martyrs  of  old,  of 
whom  the  world  was  not  worthy.     By  constant 
intercourse  with   their  God,  through   their   high 
attainments  in   divine  knowledge,  they   obtained 
that  powerful  faith  which  supported  them  through 
privation,    suffering,    even  the    tortures   of   cruel 
deaths.     God  and  heaven  were  to  them  not  merely 
beautiful  imagery,  but  glorious,  living  realities,  and 
many  a  feeble  saint,  sustained  by  it,  could  look 
joyfully  through  the  fierce  flames  that  were  con- 
suming the  quivering  fibres  of  their  bodies,  up  to 
the  serene  skies  above,  and  see  the  heavens  open, 
the  Son  of  Man  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
and  the  angelic  squadrons  waiting  to  escort  them 
to  the  Lamb  slain  for  them,  and  for  whom  he  held 


G  .      M.      GIGEE.  281 

ready  tlie  martyr's  crown  of  glory.  Mijton,  witli 
liis  wonderful  imagination,  which  could  wing  its 
unwearied  lli<j:]it  back  throui^-h  unnumbered  aires, 
and  hold  him  an  awed  spectator  of  conflicting  hosts, 
the  mighty  warfare  of  Michael  and  his  angelic  band 
with  Satan  and  his  swarming  myriads  of  lost  and 
fallen  fiends,  which  could  circle  in  its  steady  flight 
the  sulphurous  atmosphere  of  hell,  and  view  its 
dreary  caverns,  its  hideous  monsters,  and  its  scenes 
of  horrid,  never-ending  woe,  and  then  soar  to  the 
shining  realms  of  light,  gaze  with  eye  undimmed 
upon  the  saj)phire  battlements  of  heaven,  and  listen 
to  the  entrancing  strains  of  its  great  chorus  of 
bursting  hallelujahs  and  harping  symphonies,  pos- 
sessed no  greater  privilege  than  the  humblest  saint, 
who,  in  his  secret  meditations,  dwells  upon  the 
glories  of  his  promised  heaven_,  or  batlies  his  soul 
in  the  pure  light  of  revelation.  Let  me  take  you 
to  yonder  cell.  The  massive  walls  shut  in  a  human 
being  from  the  world.  Look  through  the  grating. 
There  he  sits,  wrapt  in  meditation.  The  walls  are 
bare,  and  the  rough,  untapestried  stones  chill  you 
with  a  sense  of  cheerless  solitude  and  sad  loneliness. 
Yet  that  prisoner  feels  not  alone.  To  him,  this  se- 
cluded solitude  is  more  glorious  than  all  the  pomps 
and  pageant  of  the  world.  That  contracted,  gloomy 
cell  more  enchanting  than  the  thronged  presence- 
chamber  of  the  most  potent  monarch  uj^on  earth. 
Scenes  are  passing  before  his  mind,  which  in  beauty 
and  grandeur  defy  the  painter  s  power  to  embody, 
and  mock  the  faintness  of  his  most  brilliant  tints. 
The  whole  Christian  life  is  before  him; — he  sees 
19 


282  THE     PEIISrCETON     PULPIT. 

liim  arrested  by  divine  trutli,  follows  Him  eagerly 
to  tlie  cross,  accompanies  liim  througli  his  toilsome 
journey.  He  trembles  for  his  safety  in  the  dark 
valley  and  shadow  of  death,  his  blood  is  chilled 
by  the  terrific  fiends  who  there  assail  and  attempt 
to  destroy  him,  he  sits  down  with  him  in  that  para- 
dise of  loveliness,  the  land  of  Beulah,  and  drinks 
of  the  cool,  refreshing  waters  of  life.  He  looks 
through  the  shepherd's  glass,  and  feels  the  thrill  of 
ecstatic  delight  as  he  catches  with  him  the  first 
prospect  of  the  celestial  city.  He  sees  him  passing 
through  the  icy  river  of  death,  emerging  from  its 
dark  waters  and  entering  the  gates  of  the  New 
Jerusalem.  He  sees  him  passing  up  through  the 
long  vista  of  glorified  spirits,  and  the  crown  placed 
upon  his  head  amidst  myriads  of  angels  shouting 
the  anthems  of  victory,  and  striking  their  jewelled 
harps  of  gold.  Need  I  tell  you  that  the  humble 
artizan,  John  Bunyan,  was  enabled  by  meditation 
and  private  contemplation  to  obtain  these  wonder- 
ful visions,  and  to  view  and  record  with  such  vivid- 
ness all  the  incidents  of  the  Christian  pilgrim's  life, 
— ^his  hopes — his  fears — his  temptations — his  strug- 
gles,— his  victories  and  his  glorious  rewaixl  ?  Such 
divine  knoii^ledge,  such  an  insight  of  the  spiritual 
world  may  every  Christian  obtain,  who  withdraws 
himself  more  and  more  from  earth,  and  meditates 
on  heaven. 

Keligious  knowledge  is  also  necessary  to  correct 
jyracticG.  Without  a  knowledge  of  the  will  of  God, 
how  shall  we  regulate  our  conduct  in  consistency 
with  our  duty  ?     Without  intelligence,  how  can  we 


G  .      M  .     G  I  Cr  E  E  .  283 

proj^erly  apportiou  our  time  and  means  and  personal 
exertions  ?  Witliont  religious  knowledge,  how 
sliall  we  be  able  to  persevere  ?  The  reason  why- 
some  are  so  inconsistent,  indiscreet  and  fickle,  is, 
because  they  are  so  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  true 
religion  and  its  di\dne  requirements.  Hence,  the 
Apostle  says,  that  men  are  alienated  from  the  life 
of  God,  through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  them.  They 
are  so  much  in  the  world,  and  so  seldom  with  God, 
that  whilst  their  tastes,  their  pursuits,  and  their 
conduct,  are  becomins:  more  and  more  allied  to 
earth,  they  gradually  lose  all  spiritual  attainments, 
until  at  last  God  is  scarcely  in  their  thoughts. 

Moreover,  religious  knowledge  is  essential  to 
our  personal  sanctification.  "  Sanctify  them  by 
thy  truth,  thy  word  is  truth."  Now,  if  religious 
knowledge  is  thus  indispensable  to  faith  and  prac- 
tice and  personal  holiness,  and  if  religious  retire- 
ment affords  the  best  .opportunities  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  such  knowledge,  then  must  its  advantages 
in  this  respect  be  invaluable.  In  order  that  man 
may  regain  the  divine  image  in  which  he  was 
created,  that  he  may  fulfil  the  divine  injunction, 
"  be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy,"  he  must  endeavour  to 
become  asssimilated  to  his  Maker,  by  frequently 
communing  with  him,  and  seeking  to  become  tho- 
roughly pervaded  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  inti- 
mately acquainted  with,  and  entirely  subject  to  his 
will. 

Religious  retirement  is  necessary  to  a  due  and 
profitahh  self-examination.  In  the  busy  world, 
how  can  this  be  accomplished  ?   The  objects  around 


284  THE      PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

US,  the  excitement  connected  with  our  pursuits,  the 
false,  distorted  views  which  the  world  gives  to 
everything  examined  through  its  medium,  preclude 
anything  like  an  honest  examination  of  our  hearts. 
Its  uproar  and  contentions,  its  cares  and  perturba- 
tions penetrate  to  and  agitate  our  inmost  soul.  It  is 
in  retirement  alone,  in  the  calm  serenity  of  seclusion 
that  we  can  look  in  upon  ourselves,  and  lay  bare  all 
those  secret  springs  of  action  so  carefully  concealed 
from  the  world.  Here  w^e  can  duly  estimate  the 
motives  that  are  actuating  our  conduct.  Here  we  can 
calmly  review  the  grounds  of  our  professed  interest 
in  the  Saviour  and  the  evidences  of  our  faith.  It 
is  in  retirement  that  we  can  be  honest  with  our- 
selves. Here  are  no  inducements  to  dissimulation 
and  concealment.  We  feel  that  we  are  in  the  23re- 
sence  of  the  heart-searching  God,  and  are  con- 
strained to  cry  out,  "  Lord  search  me  and  try  me, 
show  me  all  my  defects,  my  wants  and  my  sinful- 
ness." It  is  under  such  searching  investigations, 
such  deep  probings  of  the  conscience,  that  we  can 
know  our  true  position.  Like  the  mariner,  then, 
when  out  of  sight  of  land,  with  ocean  around  him, 
and  the  sky  above,  resort  to  the  compass  of  divine 
truth,  study  well  its  cardinal  points,  examine  tho- 
roughly the  records  of  your  past  progress,  so  that 
you  may  be  able  to  steer  this  richly-freighted 
bark  heavenward,  and  to  detect  the  slightest 
swerving  from  its  safe  and  proper  j^ath. 

In  retirement,  we  have  the  hest  opportunity  for 
confession  and  contrition.  What  Christian  is  not 
painfully  sensible  of  constant  transgressions  of  the 


G.      M.      GIGER.  285 

law  of  God  ? — of  great  and  numerous  omissions  of 
duty  ?      How  ra]3idly  do   tliese  sins   accumulate  ! 
How  they  oppress  and  burden  the  conscience  !     He 
must  have  relief.    The  instincts  of  our  nature  even, 
demand  a  confidant ;  the  heart  is  tortured  by  its  own 
consciousness  of  guilt.     Where  will  he  fly  from  the 
compunctions  of    conscience,   the   lashings  of   re- 
morse.    To  whom  will  he,  can  he  fully  confide  the 
sad  story  of   his  weaknesses   and  transgressions? 
Will  he  lay  his  heart  bare  to  the  cold  gaze  of  his 
fellow-sinner  'i    Even  the  nearest  friends  sometimes 
cruelly   abuse    the    confidence    reposed   in  them. 
Where  else  can  he  go,  but  to  his  gracious  Father, 
against  whom  he  has  offended,  and  there  in  solitude, 
upon  his  bended  knees,  exclaim,  "  against  thee,  thee 
only,  have  I  sinned,"  and  freely  confess  all  the  evil 
he  has  done.     There  he  can  confess  fully  those  se- 
cret sins  which  he  would  not  reveal  to  his  bosom 
friend.     There   he  feels    certain   of  being   under- 
stood, when  telling  God  of  those   sins  that  do  so 
easily  beset  him,  and  with  a  heart  overflowing  with 
emotion,  he  pours  out  his  soul  in  sorrow,  assured 
that  Christ  will  not  reject  him  on  account  of  his 
vileness,  that  a  contrite  and  broken  heart  he  will 
not  despise.     Besides,  as  many  sins   may,  at   the 
time  of  their  commission,  be  either  unnoticed  or 
else  inadequately  repented  of,  it  is  necessary  that 
we   should   retire  from   the  world   hal)itually,  in 
order  that  they  may  be  recalled, — that  we  may 
dwell  more  seriously  upon  their  character  and  ag- 
gravations,— repent  of  them   more   sincerely  and 


286  THE     PKINCETON      PULPIT. 

deeply,  and  resolve  and  pray  for  grace  to  enable 
us  to  guard  against  them  in  future. 

Another  advantage  of  retirement  is,  that  it  en- 
ables us  to  obtain  more  correct  mews  of  this  ivorld. 

Whilst  engaged  in  its  active  pursuits  and  plea- 
sm^es,  we  are  often  under  a  delusioii,  and  become 
the  victims  of  our  own  folly.  Well  may  this  world 
be  compared  to  a  great  theatre,  whose  players  are 
madmen.  Phantoms  are  flitting  amongst  the  throng- 
ing crowds  who  view  them  as  realities.  Ambition, 
holding  forth  its  fading  laurel, — sharp-featured 
Avarice,  with  his  piles  of  gold, — rosy-crowned 
Pleasure,  beaming  with  her  deceitful  smiles,  and 
presenting  to  her  followers  the  cup  of  sparkling 
death, — these,  and  a  host  of  others,  are  pursued 
and  courted  with  the  most  unbounded  eagerness. 
There  we  see  the  votaries  of  Ambition,  w^asting  the 
energies  of  a  u^hole  life  in  struggling  up  to  some 
eminence  which  elevates  them  a  little  above  those 
immmediately  around  them,  and  yet,  scarcely  have 
they  placed  their  feet  upon  it,  when  it  begins  to 
crumble  beneath  them,  scarcely  has  the  flush  of 
success  faded  from  their  excited  features,  when  the 
laurel  is  snatched  from  theii-  brows,  and  placed  by 
the  fickle  crowd  upon  another  god  of  the  hour. 
What  thousands  do  we  see  toiling  from  the  rising 
to  the  setting  sun,  whose  eyes  are  never  turned  up- 
ward to  behold  God's  glorious  universe,  but  fixed 
upon  the  earth,  grovelling  like  worms,  all  theii' 
energies,  thoughts  and  aspirations  devoted  to  the 
work  of  scraping  together  a  few  handfuls  of  glit- 
tering dust,  only  to  drop  from  their  tight  grasp,  as 


G.     M.      GIGER.  28Y 

the' icy  finger  of  death  palsies  tlie  hands  which  hohl 
it.  Amidst  this  ardour  of  excitement,  amidst  tliis 
strugghng,  panting  crowd,  the  Christian  often  be- 
comes infected  with  the  like  passions,  and  over- 
come by  the  spell  of  the  tempter,  is  drawn  within 
the  charmed  circle,  and  almost  entirely  forgets  and 
loses  sight  of  his  great  destiny  and  the  realities  of 
his  heavenly  inheritance.  But  let  him  turn  aside, 
and  calmly  contemplate  the  scenes  of  earth.  How 
different  do  they  appear !  How  vain  !  How  tran- 
sient !  Who,  in  such  an  hour,  can  restrain  the  ex- 
clamation, "  what  shadows  we  are,  what  shadows 
we  pursue  ?"  He  has  retired  to  the  solitude  of  his 
chamber  ;  his  memory  runs  back  through  his  past 
life.  It  is  busy  with  the  scenes  and  companions  of 
his  youth.  Where  are  they  now  ?  Gone  to  the 
dark  and  silent  tomb.  Their  familiar  voices  greet 
not  his  ear,  their  forms  no  longer  meet  his  eye. 
How  quickly  did  they  pass  away !  What  is  the 
world  with  all  its  honours,  its  wealth,  its  pleasures, 
now  to  them  ?  What  will  their  value  be  to  us 
when  called  to  leave  them  for  ever  ?  Our  early 
views  and  high  expectations,  how  few  have  ever 
been  realized !  The  honors  that  we  have  won  and 
worn,  how  empty  have  they  proved  themselves  to 
be  !  And  the  scenes  which  now  surround  us, — 
the  objects  of  present  pursuit, — the  aspirations  and 
hopes  which  now  animate  and  impel  our  souls,  are 
they  not  equally  vain  ?  Will  they  not  prove  as 
certainly  illusive  ?  Contemplation  now  unfolds  her 
wings,  and  rising  above  the  hazy  atmosphere, 
places  us  upon  some  lofty  eminence.     The  world  is 


288  THE     PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

"beneatli  us.    Tlie  loud  roar  of  its  merriment  cannot 
"be  heard  so  Iiigli,  the  swelling  chorus  of  the  or- 
chestra ra\dshes  not  our  ears,  the  insignia  of  world- 
ly honour,  the  gorgeous  robes  of  wealth  and  power 
eannot    be  discerned,    even    the   bright  gems   of 
her  richest  diadems  flash  no  gleam  of  light.     We 
©an  merely  see  the  crowds  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
pursuing  ^^ith  a^ddity  the  shadows  which  are  ever 
mocking    their    expectations    and    eluding    their 
embrace.     How  rapidly  do  they  disappear  in  the 
graves  at  their  veiy  feet !     The  earth  closes  over 
them,  and  there  those  pampered  bodies  for  whose 
welfare  souls  have  been  lost,  lie  amidst  the  decay- 
ing myriads  who  have  preceded  them,  and  quickly 
moulder    into    dust.      We    see    change,    constant 
change,  nothing  substantial,  nothing  satisfactory, 
nothing  permanent.      We  gaze  around  upon  the 
mighty  mountains,  appearing  as   though  they  at 
least  were  built  for  eternity,  rooted  in  the  heart  of 
earth,  and  piercing  the  heavens  with  their  snow- 
capped summits, 

"  and  yet, 

"  What  are  they,  but  a  wreck  and  residue 
"  Whose  only  business  is  to  perish." 

We  rise  higher.  Earth,  with  its  lofty  mountains, 
its  extended  plains,  and  its  vast  oceans,  has  dwin- 
dled to  a  point.  We  are  surrounded  by  immense, 
magnificent  planets ;— thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  worlds  are  rolling  in  awful  majesty  and 
grandeur  around  blazing  centres; — as  far  as  the 


G.      M.     GIGER.  289 

strained  vision  can  reacli  millions  more  are  flaming 
in  remoter  fields. 

"  A  flood  of  glory  bursts  from  all  the  skies." 
We  are  bewildered  and  overpowered  in  this  vast, 
mazy  splendour  of  circling  orbs.  What  are  all  these 
but  the  golden  dust  of  the  universe,  which  God  has 
poured  forth  to  beautify  and  adorn  his  footstool  ? 
What  but 

"  A  constellation  of  ten  thousand  gems 

"  Set  in  one  signet,  flames  on  the  right  hand 

"  Of  majesty  divine, 

the  "  blazing  seal  of  his  Omnipotence  and  Love." 
These  shall  all  perish,  and  as  a  vesture  shall  God 
fold  them  up.— We  ascend  still  higher,  up  through 
the  starry  hosts  to  the  ineffable  centre  and  source 
of  all  glory,  the  throne  of  God.  Tell  me,  now, 
what  is  yonder  earth  ?  What  its  heaps  of  hoarded 
wealth  compared  with  these  jasper  walls,  gates  of 
pearl,  crystal  foundations  and  golden  streets  ? 
What  its  hollow,  death-drugged  pleasures  compared 
with  that  flood  of  ecstatic  bliss  which  rolls  its 
ceaseless  tide  throughout  the  realms  of  light? 
What  are  all  the  tinselled  glories  of  earth,  its 
diadems  and  gorgeous  robes,  the  baubles  of  royalty 
and  power,  what  its  greatest  pageants,  compared 
with  that  presented  by  thousand  upon  ten  thousand 
thousand  saints  thronging  around  the  great  white 
throne,  crowned  with  the  flashing,  full-gemmed 
coronals  of  heaven  ?  What  are  all  earth's  painted 
insignificancies  compared  with  the  untold  splendours 
of  the  New  Jerusalem  ? 


290  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

Siicli   contemplations,  retrospections  and  reflec- 
tions   cannot    but    make    us    wiser    and    better 
men  ; — tliey   cannot    but    moderate    our   worldly 
desires,  because   they  enable   us   to    set   a    truer 
estimate   upon   all   earthly   tilings.      Bebold    the 
eifect   u])oii    the    Puritans,    as   recorded    by   the 
pen  of  impartial  history.     "  Their  minds  derived  a 
peculiar  character  from  the  daily  contemplation  of 
superior   beings  and   eternal  interests.     To  know 
God,  to  serve  him,  to  enjoy  him,  was  with  them  the 
great  end  of  existence.     They  rejected  with  con- 
tempt the  ceremonious  homage  which  other  sects 
substituted   for   the   pure    worship   of    the    soul. 
Instead   of  catching    occasional   glimpses    of  the 
Deity  through  an  obscuring  veil,  they  aspired  to 
gaze  full  on  the  intolerable  brightness,  and  to  com- 
mune with  him  face  to  face.     The  difference  be- 
tween the  greatest  and  meanest  of  mankind  seemed 
to  vanish  when  compared  with  the  boundless  inter- 
val which  separated  the  whole  race  from  Him  on 
whom  their  eyes  were  constantly  fixed.     If  they 
were  unacquainted  with  the  works  of  philosophers 
and  poets,  they  were  deeply  read  in  the  oracles 
of  God.     If  their  names  were  not  found  in   the 
registers  of  heralds,  they  felt  assured  that  they 
were  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Life.     If  their  steps 
were  not  accompanied  by  a  splendid  train  of  menials, 
legions    of   ministering    angels    had   charge    over 
them.     Their  palaces  were  houses  not  made  with 
hands  :  their  diadems  crowns  of  glory  which  should 
never  fade  away.     For  his  sake  empires  had  risen, 
flourished  and  decayed.     For  his  sake  the  Almighty 


G.      M.      GIGEE.  291 

had  proclaimed  Lis  will  by  tlie  pen  of  tlie  evauge- 
list  and  tlie  liarp  of  the  prophet.  He  had  been 
rescued  by  no  common  deliverer  from  the  grasp  of 
no  common  foe.  He  had  been  ransomed  by  the 
sweat  of  no  vulgar  agony,  by  the  blood  of  no 
earthly  sacrifice.  It  wna  for  him  that  the  sun  had 
been  darkened,  that  the  rocks  had  been  rent,  that 
the  dead  had  arisen,  that  all  nature  had  shuddered 
at  the  sufferings  of  her  expiring  God." 

Finally,  the  contemplations  which  are  appropri- 
ate aud  natural  to  the  pious  in  retirement,  are 
strongly  adapted  to  improve  their  affections^  and  to 
increase  their  attachment  to  heaven. 

While  reflecting  upon  the  vanity  of  all  earthly 
attainments  and  j^leasures; — w^hile  surveying  the 
melancholy  wreck  of  our  fondest  and  most  cherished 
hopes, — while  contemplating  the  uncertainty  and 
shortness  of  our  present  career, — how  natural  it  is 
to  turn  our  attention  to  those  spiritual  and  heavenly 
objects  w^hich  are  certain,  solid  and  enduring  ! 
The  heart,  that  will  and  must  have  some  object 
of  interest  and  affection,  turns  to  these  with 
increased  desire,  confidence  and  pleasure.  From 
the  vain  jiursuits  of  earth, — its  unsatisfying  posses- 
sions and  enjoyments, — its  sins  and  sorrows, — its 
crushed  hopes — its  hidden  griefs  and  mortal  agonies, 
the  soul  looks  upward  and  yearns  for  heaven. 

There  are,  indeed,  some  green  and  sunny  spots 
in  his  earthly  pilgrimage,  upon  which  the  Christian 
can  look  back  with  pious  and  grateful  satisfaction. 
The  period  of  his  conversion  to  God — the  hours 
which  were  spent  in  devotion — his  works  of  benev- 


292  THE     PRINCETOI^      PULPIT. 

olence  and  piety — ^the  sacrifices  he  has  made — the 
trials  he  has  endured  for  Jesus'  sake  are  still  remem- 
bered with  lively  gratitude  and  heart-felt  pleasure. 
But  will  not  the  recollection  and  contemplation  of 
these  excite  and  elevate  and  spiritualize  still  more 
the  affections  and  aims  of  his  soul  ?  Will  he  not 
long  for,  and  weep  and  pray  for  the  renewal  of  his 
Letter  days  ?  Will  he  not  covet  the  experience  of 
equal,  if  not  superior  communications  and  displays 
of  the  love  and  grace  and  power  of  his  God  ?  And 
will  not  there  collection  of  the  pleasure  which  he 
experienced  in  communion  with  God,  imperfect  as 
it  was,  increase  his  desire  to  be  admitted  into  the 
presence  and  perfect  enjoyment  of  God  in  heaven  ? 


SEARCH    THE    SCRIPTURES. 

BT 

THE  REV.  THOMAS  W.  CATTELL,  M.A., 

PUINCIPAL  OF   EDGE  HILL  SOIIOOU 


These  were  more  noble  than  those  in  Thessalonica ;  in  that  they  received 
the  wprd  with  all  readiness  of  mind,  and  searched  the  Scriptures  daily 
whether  those  things  were  so. — Acts  xvii.  11. 

The  Apostle  Paul  went  from  Thessalonica  to 
Berea.    At  the  former  place,  his  doctrines  had  been 
rejected,  and  he  and  his  friends  had  been  treated 
with  great  rudeness  by  the  unbelieving  Jews.  They 
departed,  therefore,  privately,  to  the  neighbouring 
city  of  Berea;  and  there  Paul,  according  to  his 
custom,  went  into  the  synagogue  of  the  Jews,  and 
three  Sabbath  days  reasoned  with  them  out  of  the 
Scriptures.     By  the  Bereans,  the  apostle  and  his 
doctrines  were  differently  received,  and  this  differ- 
ence is  described  in  the  text.     "  These  were  more 
noble   than   those  in  Thessalonica;  in   that   they 
received  the  word  with  all  readiness  of  mind,  and 
searched  the  Scriptures  daily,  whether  those  things 
were  so."     The  persons  here  referred  to  were  Jews, 
as  well  as  those  at  Thessalonica.  They  were  strongly 
attached  to  the  institutions  of  Moses— to  the  cere- 
monies handed  down  to  them  by  their  fathers,  and 
consecrated  by  ages  of  devout  observance.     The 


294  THE     PRINCETON     P  TJ  L  P  I  T  . 

preaching  of  the  apostle  sounded  strangely  in  their 
ears.  It  seemed  to  conflict  with  their  established 
faith.  But  as  he  had  appealed  to  their  own  Scrip- 
ture, and  professed  to  derive  all  his  arguments 
and  proofs  from  their  own  proj)hets,  they  did  not 
reject  them  at  once.  They  listened  with  fixed 
attention,  received  the  word  with  all  readiness  of 
mind,  and  began  to  search  the  Scriptures  for  them- 
selves, to  study  their  sacred  writings,  to  see  if  these 
things  were  so,  if  they  were  really  contained  in 
their  Scriptures,  and  could  be  fairly  proved  by  the 
writings  of  Moses  and  the  prophets. 

The  conduct  of  the  Bereans  is  here  sj)oken  of  by 
the  sacred  writer  as  more  noble  than  that  of  others 
who  had  rejected  the  gospel  without  examining  its 
claims — who  had  retained  the  prejudices  of  their 
early  education,  without  regard  to  the  great  truths 
which  their  early  training  involved.  As  the  can- 
dor and  diligence  of  the  Bereans  is  commended,  so 
it  is  worthy  of  our  imitation,  so  far  as  the  circum- 
stances of  their  case  are  applicable  to  ourselves. 

I.  The  first  thing  mentioned  to  the  praise  of  the 
Bereans  is  that  tliey  received  tlie  word  with  all 
readiness  of  mind.  This  does  not  mean  that  they 
became  Christians  as  soon  as  they  heard  the  preach- 
ing of  Paul.  They  did  not  lay  aside,  on  the  elo- 
quent persuasions  of  a  passing  stranger,  the  doc- 
trines and  practice  of  their  fathers,  from  the  time 
of  Moses.  But  the  subject  was  interesting  and 
important;  the  claims  it  presented  were  urgent 
and  plausible ;  the  Bereans  therefore  gave  it  their 
attention.     They  listened  calmly  to  the  wonders  of 


THOMAS     W.     CAT  TELL.  295 

the  gospel.  They  were  willing  to  learn  what  Paul 
professed  to  teach.  Whether  they  should  adopt 
his  doctrines  was  a  question  to  be  afterwards  de- 
cided. In  this  respect,  their  conduct  differed 
widely  from  the  course  of  those  to  whom  Paul  had 
preached  at  Thessalonica.  These  rejected  the  gos- 
pel at  once,  without  being  acquainted  with  its 
nature.  They  heard  some  things  which  seemed  to 
conflict  with  their  previous  notions,  and  without 
waiting  to  know  the  whole  truth,  without  under- 
standing the  origin  or  the  bearing  of  the  gospel, 
they  became  its  bitter  and  determined  opposers. 

The  conduct  of  the  Bereans  in  thus  receiving  the 
word  with  all  readiness  of  mind,  diffei's  from  the 
course  of  many  who  reject  the  gospel  in  our  day. 
There  are  many  now,  as  then,  who  hear  but  in  part : 
who  conceive  a  hasty  aversion  to  religion,  and  op- 
pose violently  what  they  do  not  understand.  There 
may  be  some  who  are  familiar  with  the  Bible  who 
do  not  live  according  to  its  teachings.  There  is  a 
reason  for  this  in  the  depravity  of  the  heart.  Know- 
ledge is  not  the  whole  of  true  piety,  though  the 
want  of  it  is  a  fertile  soui'ce  of  infidelity ;  but  we 
are  safe  in  affirming,  that  most,  if  not  all,  rejecters 
of  the  gospel  resemble  the  Bereans  less  than  the 
Thessalonians. 

This  hasty  condemnation  is  confessedly  ungener- 
ous. It  is  still  mor'e  unwise.  Any  subject  has  a 
claim  to  our  attention  in  proportion  to  its  import- 
ance, its  probability,  and  our  opportunities  of  in- 
vestigating its  truth.  Now  the  gospel  professes  to 
deal  with  the  highest  interests  of  the  immortal 


296  THE     PRINCETON     PFLPIT. 

soul.  Tlie  burden  of  its  teacliing  is,  tliat  a  way  of 
salvation  lias  been  provided  for  dyirg  men ;  that 
there  is  redeuii^tion  for  sinners,  happiness  and  eter- 
nal life  for  the  miserable  and  condemned.  If  there 
be  but  a  bare  possibility  of  its  truth,  it  is  of  vast 
importance;  but  if  the  nature  and  degree  of  its 
evidence  renders  it  highly  probable ;  nay,  if  that 
evidence  is  accessible  to  all,  and  is  yet  so  clear  that 
it  cannot  be  resisted,  then  surely  the  gospel  has  an 
overwhelmino:  claiin.  The  heart  bears  witness  to 
its  own  sinful  state ;  the  curse  of  sin  is  all  around 
us,  it  is  written  on  all  the  sufferings  of  life,  it  is 
visible  in  death,  and  it  speaks  in  the  conscience  in 
tones  not  to  be  misunderstood.  That  a  way  of 
redemption  was  possible,  and  that  Jesus  Christ  is  a 
divine  Savioui^,  the  apostle  proved  by  the  miracles 
he  was  em]30wered  to  perform  in  his  name,  and  by 
the  wonderful  fulfilment  of  types  and  pi'ophecies  in 
the  person  and  history  of  the  Son  of  God.  The 
facts  upon  which  his  arguments  were  based  were 
all  familiar ;  the  proofs  he  brought  in  supjwrt  of 
his  conclusions  were  accessible  to  his  hearers,  and 
adapted  to  their  comprehension.  A  refusal,  there- 
fore, to  examine  the  subject  gave  evidence,  either 
of  a  weak  head  or  a  bad  heart. 

11.  The  next  thing  worthy  of  note  in  the  conduct 
of  the  Bereans  is,  that  they  searched  the  Scriptures 
daily ^  wlietlier  these  things  were  so.  After  they  had 
heard  Paul's  preaching,  his  doctrines,  and  his  argu- 
ments, they  seem  slow  to  adopt  his  views.  They 
still  cling  to  what  they  know  to  be  true.  The 
Bible  was  the  anchor  of  their  faith.     They  had 


THOMAS     W.     CATTELL.  29T 

been   favored  witli  repeated  evidence  tliat  tlieir 
Scriptures  were  a  revelation  from  God.     To  the 
Scriptures,  therefore,  the  Bereans  resort  to  test  the 
doctrines  of  the  apostle.     There  was  much  in  his 
preaching  in  apparent  conflict  with  their  ceremonial 
observances.     It  proposed  to  abolish  customs  con- 
sidered sacred  for  ages — to  lay  aside  the  smoking 
altar  and  the  bleeding  victim  for  a  spiritual  sacri- 
fice of  prayer  and  faith.     It  seemed  like  tearing 
the  very  life  of  religion  from  their  hearts.     They 
must  have  clear  grounds  for  a  change  so  thorough, 
Nothing  less  than  the  authority  of  God  himself 
could  satisfy  theii*  minds;  they  search  the  Scrip- 
tures, therefore,  with  intense  anxiety.     It  is  a  daily 
search,  a  close  examination  of  its  inspired  teachings. 
The  arguments  of  the  apostle,  if  we  may  judge  by 
his  writings,  were  close  and  conclusive.     There  was 
no  such  thing  as  denying  his  conclusions,  if  his 
premises  were  correct.     The  Bereans  searched  the 
Scriptures  in  private  to  see  if  these  were  true.     He 
had  led  them  to  grand  results.     He  had  exhibited 
God  in  a  new  and  wonderful  character.     He  had 
pointed  out  the  end  of  their  sacrifices — the  great 
high  priest  and  victim,  so  long  and  so  beautifully 
typified  in  their  temple  service.     He  had  spoken 
of  faith  in  Christ  as  connected  with  peace  and  free- 
dom from  condemnation.    Could  there  be  any  mis- 
take on  these  points  ?  did  they  follow  from  what 
the  Old  Testament  taught  of  the  character  and 
work  of  their  Messiah  ?  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth  the 
hope  of  their  nation?  did  all  the  descrij^tions  of 
their  prophets  and  all  the  symbols  of  their  law 
20 


298  THE      PRINCETON      PULPIT. 

meet  and  find  tlieir  fulfilment  in  liim  ?  Thus  they 
compare  the  apostle's  doctrine  with  their  sacred 
books ;  they  search  the  Scriptm*es  daily  ;  it  is  no 
occasional  reading,  no  single  question,  but  a  re- 
peated and  anxious  searching  of  the  Bible,  the 
expression  of  a  sincere  and  ardent  desire  to  know 
the  truth,  to  know  whether  the  gospel  had  a  well- 
grounded  claim  upon  their  faith. 

This  is  the  point  in  which  their  example  is  espe- 
cially worthy  of  our  imitation.  The  gospel  comes 
to  us  as  it  did  to  the  Bereans,  with  its  claims  and 
its  evidence.  Its  claims  are  founded  on  its  import- 
ance and  its  probable  truth :  its  evidence  is  laid  in 
miracles  and  prophecy,  and  in  the  present  opera- 
tions of  an  Almighty  Sj^irit.  If  we  have  not  the 
ministry  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  we  have  their 
recorded  testimony  to  the  great  doctrines  for  which 
they  lived  and  died.  We  have  the  Prophecies — 
still  unfolding  their  meaning  to  the  interpretation 
of  the  events  so  long  predicted — and  we  have, 
above  all,  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  in  the  adapted- 
ness  of  the  gospel  to  the  necessities  of  our  dying 
state.  We  have  the  power  of  the  gospel  exhibited 
in  the  lives  of  its  real  possessors — in  its  victory 
over  sin  and  the  grave.  The  very  existence  of  the 
church,  with  its  sacred  influences,  is  a  witness  for 
the  truth  of  the  gospel ;  at  this  very  day  there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  believing  its  promises  and 
rejoicing  in  its  hopes.  It  has  brought  peace  into 
our  communities,  happiness  into  our  families,  and 
joyful  hopes  to  cheer  the  departing  moments  of 
many  once  dear  to  our  hearts.  Is  it  possible,  under 


THOMAS      W.      CATTELL.  299 

all  tliese  circumstances  to  remain  indifferent  to  tlie 
question  wlietber  these  things  are  so  ;  with  so  mucli 
to  indicate  its  importance — with  so  much  to  render 
it,  to  say  the  least,  probable,  are  we  not  called 
upon  to  give  it  a  serious  examination  ? 

If  those  who  neglect  religion  are  right,  if  they 
are  excusable  in  their  course,  then  how  wonderful 
must  be  the  delusion  of  so  many  of  the  professed 
believers  in  the  gospel,  from  the  time  when  Jesus 
died  upon  the  cross.  If  these  things  be  not  so, 
how  deeply  are  our  friends,  some  whom  we  most 
respect  and  love,  how  deeply  are  they  sunk  in  a 
miserable  superstition.  But  if  on  the  other  hand, 
they  are  right,  if  they  have  found  him  of  whom 
Moses  in  the  law  and  the  prophets  did  write,  then 
how  terrible  is  your  condition  if  you  neglect  it.  If 
there  be  any  thing  in  religion,  and  we  neglect  it,  it 
is  at  the  peril  of  our  souls.  To  remain  indifferent 
is  to  perish. 

I  have  thus  far  urged  attention  to  the  subject  of 
religion,  from  its  importance,  and  from  the  over- 
whelming probability  that  it  is  true.  I  now  men- 
tion, in  conclusion,  two  other  considerations,  one 
drawn  from  the  history  of  the  Bereans,  and  the 
other  from  the  effects  of  a  candid  examination  upon 
Christian  life. 

I.  The  natural  tendency  of  a  candid  and  tho- 
rough examination  of  the  claims  of  the  gospel  is  to 
lead  to  true  piety.  It  is  added  in  the  verse  which 
follows  the  text,  Therefore  many  of  tliem  believed^ 
as  the  result  of  their  fidelity  in  searching  the  scrip- 
tures.    It  lias  already  been  remarked  that  in  very 


300  THE    PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

many,  if  not  in  all  cases,  infidelity  is  connected  witli 
ignorance.  A  knowledge  of  the  gospel  is  an  essen- 
tial element  of  conversion.  Yet  knowledge  is  not 
of  itself  enough,  to  make  any  man  a  sincere  Chris- 
tian. There  is  much  in  the  Bible  which  opposes 
the  pride  of  the  human  heart,  and  there  is  much 
even  in  the  character  of  the  Saviour  to  give  offence 
to  wicked  men.  So  that  we  might  know  the  whole 
gospel,  in  all  its  parts,  and  yet  be  lost.  Yet  know- 
ledge is  not  only  important — it  is  necessary.  With- 
out some  correct  apprehension  of  the  truths  of  the 
Bible,  there  is,  for  intelligent  sinners,  no  salvation. 
It  has  often  occurred  that  mere  desire  of  know- 
ledge— a  mere  willingness  to  examine,  has  led  not 
only  to  a  conviction  of  the  truth,  but  to  a  saving 
acquaintance  with  its  rich  provisions. 

It  is  related  of  Gilbert  West  and  Lord  Lyttleton, 
that  being  once  in  conversation  on  their  infidel 
views,  they  agreed  to  unite  in  exposing  the  preten- 
sions of  the  Bible  from  its  own  evidence.  The  one 
chose  the  history  of  the  conversion  of  Paul,  and  the 
other  his  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  as  the  points 
of  their  attacks.  With  vigorous  minds  they  began 
the  study  of  their  subjects,  and  the  result  was  two 
of  the  most  masterly  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
Christian  religion  now  in  possession  of  the  Church. 
Lord  Lyttleton  not  only  convinced  himself,  but  he 
will  convince  any  candid  man  who  reads  his  trea- 
tise, that  the  account  of  Paul's  conversion,  given  in 
the  twenty-sixth  chapter  of  Acts,  must  be  true, 
because  it  is  impossible  to  explain  the  narration  on 
any  other  supposition.     It  was  impossible  for  Paul 


THOMAS      W.      CAT  TELL.  301 

to  liave  been  an  enthusiast,  a  dupe,  or  a  liypocrite. 
Tlie  only  solution  of  liis  conduct  is  to  be  found  in 
the  truth  of  his  narration,  and  in  the  reality  of  the 
doctrines  he  believed  and  preached. 

II.  Again,  a  thorough  examination  of  the  Scrip- 
tures is  wise  in  reference  to  the  satisfaction  of  believ- 
ing and  the  comfort  of  religious  experience.  It  lays 
the  foundation  for  a  solid  and  progressive  Christian 
character.  It  gives  clearness  to  the  Christian's 
views,  stability  to  his  judgment,  and  confidence 
throughout  his  life.  He  is  distracted  by  no  fears, 
lest  all  should  prove  delusive.  He  knows  it  to  be 
true.  He  has  received  no  cunningly  devised  fable. 
His  house  is  built  upon  the  rock,  unmoved  by  all 
the  storms  of  unbelief. 

Therefore,  let  the  duty  of  searching  the  Scrip- 
tures become  a  paramount  matter,  not  only  because 
the  whole  subject  of  religion  is  of  vast  and  unspeak- 
able importance ;  not  only  because  all  the  evidence 
is  in  favor  of  its  truth;  but  also  because  this  is  one 
divinely-appointed  means  of  conversion,  and  be- 
cause the  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  thus  ob- 
tained will  be  of  incalculable  benefit  to  you,  if  you 
ever  do  become  a  sincere  follower  of  Christ.  As, 
therefore,  you  value  your  safety,  as  you  hope  to 
have  an  interest  in  the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  and 
as  you  desire  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  religion, 
let  me  urge  you  to  search  the  Scriptures,  whether 
these  things  are  so. 


THE  POSITION  OF  THE  HUMAN  EACE  IN  THE 
DIVINE  ECONOMY. 


JOHN  T.  DUFFIELD,  A.  M., 

ADJUNCT     PROFESSOR     OF     MATHEMATICS. 


"  God  hath  concluded  them  all  in  unbelief,  that  He  might  have  mercy  upon 
all."— Rom.  xi.  32. 

God  hath  concluded  them  all^ — that  is,  both  Jews 
and  Gentiles, — in  unbelief ^  that  He  Tnight  have  mer- 
cy upon  all.  Tlie  truth  here  asserted,  the  Apostle 
re-affirms  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Galatians,  iii.  22. 
His  language  there  is,  "The  Scripture  hath  con- 
cluded all  under  sin,  that  the  promise  by  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ  might  be  given  to  them  that  believe." 

From  a  comparison  of  these  two  passages,  it  is 
evident : 

(1.)  That  the  expression  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Galatians, — "  the  ScriptuTe  hath  concluded  all  un- 
der sin," — simply  means,  that  the  Scriptures  de- 
clare the  fact,  that  God  hath  so  concluded  all. 

(2.)  That  the  expression  "  in  unbelief,"  as  it  oc- 
curs in  the  text,  is  synonymous  with  "  under  sin," 
— the  word  "unbelief"  being  so  used,  since  un- 
belief is  the  most  prominent  development  of  the 
sinfulness  of  our  race. 


JOHN    T  .     D  U  F  F  I  E  L  D  .  303 

(3.)  The  language  used  in  tlie  Epistle  to  the  Ga- 
latioDs,  explains  or  renders  definite  the  particular 
form  or  manifestation  of  "  mercy"  referred  to  in 
the  text — "  that  the  promise  by  faith  of  Jesus 
Christ,  might  be  given  to  them  that  believe." 

(4.)  AVhen  the  text  declares  that  God  designed 
to  "  have  mercy  upon  «//,"  the  corresponding  ex- 
pression in  the  Epistle  to  the  Galatians  teaches, 
that  the  word  "  all"  in  this  connexion  is  not  to  be 
taken  in  its  universal,  unlimited  signification,  but  is 
restricted  to  all  "  them  that  believe." 

The  doctrine,  therefore,  of  the  Apostle,  in  these 
passages  of  Scripture,  is,  that — 

God  hath  concluded  all  under  sin,  that  He 

MIGHT    manifest    HiS     MEECY,     IN    THE    SALVATION, 

THROUGH  Christ,  of  them  that  believe. 

We  may  be  enabled  to  apprehend  more  distinct- 
ly, and  fully,  this  important  truth,  by  considering, 
in  order — 

1st,  The  fact,  that  all  men  are  under  sin. 

2dly,  That  they  are  so  by  the  permissive  will  of 

God. 
3dly,  The   end   which   God   accomplishes,  and 
which  we  may  therefore  say.  He  designed  to 
accomplish,  by  this  permission. 


I.  And  first,  as  to  the  fact,  that  all  men  are  under 


etn. 


David,  in  the  14th,  and  again  in  the  53d  Psalm, 
declares  in  language,  which  is  again  repeated  by 
the  Apostle  Paul  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Komans, — 
as  if  to  multiply  the  testimony  of  insj^iratiou  to  the 


304  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

fact, — "  there  is  none  righteous,  no,  not  one ;  there 
is  none  that  nnderstandeth ;  there  is  none  that 
seeketh  after  God ;  they  are  all  gone  out  o  f  the 
way  ;  they  are  together  become  unprofitable  ;  there 
is  none  that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one."  Rom.  iii.  10- 
12.  Paul  elsewhere  expresses  this  same  truth,  in 
connexion  with  a  declaration  as  to  the  origin  and 
consequences  of  this,  our  deplorable  condition.  "  By 
one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by 
sin  ;  and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all 
have  sinned."  Rom.  v.  12. 

What  a  commentary  on  these  and  similar  decla- 
rations of  Scripture,  does  the  history  of  our  race 
present !  We  see  sin  manifested,  not  as  a  peculia- 
rity of  particular  individuals,  or  classes,  or  nations, 
or  races  ;  nor  confined  to  particular  times  and  eras, 
— all  have  sinned,  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of 
God, — there  is  no  man  that  liveth  and  sinneth  not. 

And  this  evil  thing  affects,  not  only  all  human 
actions,  and  words,  and  thoughts,  but  our  very  na- 
ture is  corrupt, — the  fruit  is  not  good,  because  the 
tree  is  not  good, — the  waters  are  foul,  because  the 
fountain  is  impure, — we  are  "  conceived  in  sin" — 
we  are  "  brought  forth  in  iniquity,"^ — we  are  "  by 
nature,  the  children  of  wrath."  We  see  the  wages 
of  sin — the  penalty  of  a  want  of  conformity  to 
God's  law, — reigning  "  even  over  those  who  have 
not  sinned  after  the  similitude  of  Adam's  trans- 
gression." Rom.  V.  14.  The  newly-born  infant, 
scarce  conscious  of  its  being,  is  yet  the  subject  of 
suffering  and  of  death  ;  and  is  marked  thereby,  no 
less  distinctly  than  was  guilty  Cain,  as  obnoxious 


JOHN    T.     DUFFIELD.  305 

to  God's  all-compreliending  and  uucompromismg 
law. 

This  universal  and  entire  sinfulness  of  our  race — 
a  foct,  in  itself,  so  abasing  and  so  alarming — does 
not  when  announced  make  upon  us  its  due  impres- 
sion ;  partly,  because  of  the  eftect  of  sin  upon  our- 
selves, deadening  our  moral  sensibilities ;  and  part- 
ly, because  all  around  us  are,  like  ourselves,  involved 
in  the  guilty  degradation.  Not  only  does  sin  blind 
us,  or  at  least  render  us  indifferent  to  its  own  ap- 
palling enormity,  but  besides,  all  intelligent  crea- 
tures with  whom  we  are  sensibly  acquainted,  are 
our  fellow-sinners. 

But  consider,  for  a  moment,  what  sin  is ;  and 
consider,  too,  that  notwithstanding  the  many  mil- 
lions of  the  human  race,  sin  is,  doubtless,  still  a  com- 
paratively rare  thing  among  God's  intelligent  crea- 
tures ;  and  we  will  see  reason  for  dread  wonder, 
that  the  Omnipotent  and  Holy  One,  should  allow 
such  wretches  as  we  are,  to  defile  his  creation. 

For,  what  is  sin  ?  It  is  the  violation  of  the  law 
of  God  ;  a  law,,  to  which  we  are,  by  the  very  fact 
of  our  existence,  bound  to  render  supreme  obedi- 
ence ;  a  law,  too,  which,  even  whilst  we  transgress 
it,  we  cannot  but  acknowledge  is  only  "  holy,  and 
just,  and  good."  Sin  is  therefore  nothing  less  than 
unprovoked  rebellion  against  our  Maker, — it  is  no- 
thing other  than  enmity  against  our  God.  This  is 
the  fearful  thing  of  which  we  all  are  guilty. 

And  then,  too,  we  stand  almost  alone  in  our  ini- 
quity. Sin,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  is  a  compa- 
ratively rare  thing,  and  a  sinner  is  the  exception 


306  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT. 

among  the  subjects  of  God's  wide  dominion.  Think 
of  those  myriad  worlds,  and  systems  of  worlds, 
with  which  He,  who  is  "  Almighty  in  working," 
has  (we  may  almost  say)  filled  immensity — in  com- 
parison with  whicli  the  trifling  earth  we  tread  is 
but  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance — an  atom 
floating  in  the  sunbeam.  Think  of  these  countless 
worlds,  all  peopled  as  they  doubtless  are  with 
countless  generations  of  intelligent  and  responsi- 
ble creatures, — think  of  the  vast  gap  in  the  scale  of 
intelligence,  between  our  finite  minds  and  God  the 
Infinite — a  gap  filled  in  with  rank  above  rank,  in 
long  succession,  of  angelic  beings, — thrones,  and  do- 
minions, and  principalities,  and  powers ; — and  of  all 
these  innumerable  hosts — innumerable  not  merely 
as  to  individuals,  but  as  to  species  or  kinds  of  indi- 
vidual being — there  are  not,  we  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve, such  moral  monsters  as  sinners  found,  except 
on  earth  where  we  abide,  and  in  hell.  Men  and 
devils  damned,  alone  of  all  creation,  have  dared  to 
lift  the  arm  of  rebellion  against  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
Other  orders  of  intelligent  creatures  are,  doubtless, 
rejoicing  in  the  holy  exercises  of  their  unfallen  fa- 
culties— loving  with  supreme  afi'ection,  serving  witli 
untiring  zeal,  glorifying  witli  unmingled  devotion, 
their  great,  adorable  Creator — as  burning  seraphs 
before  the  throne,  or  winged  cherubs  on  swift  flight 
to  do  His  will — ministering  spirits,  ever  hearkening 
to  the  voice  of  His  word.  Children  of  men,  and 
demons  of  the  pit,  alone  of  all  God's  hosts,  shun 
their  Creator's  blessed  presence,  despise  His  holy 


JOHN    T.     DUFFIELD.  307 

law,  dislionour  His  liallowed  name,  and  would  rob 
Him  of  His  glory. 

Suppose  that  man  had  never  fallen,  and  that  our 
race  were  still  rejoicing  in  the  full  glory  of  our  first 
estate  ;  and  suppose  that  among  the  many  millions 
of  the  happy,  holy,  inhabitants  of  earth,  some  one 
or  two  sinners  should  appear — rebels  against  God, 
"  rejoicing  in  iniquity,"  "  loving  darkness  rather 
than  the  light" — such  wretches  would  not  present 
to  our  eyes  a  sight  more  strange  and  monstrous, 
than  our  race  now  presents  to  the  holy  intelligences 
above  us,  and  to  Jehovah,  our  sovereign  God. 

Such,  my  friends,  is  our  lamentable  condition — 
"  under  sin" — at  "  enmity  against  God" — "  children 
of  wrath." 

II.  But  further,  not  only  are  all  men  thus  under 
sin,  but  they  are  so  by  the  permissive  ivill  of  God. 
This  is  the  second  point  proposed  for  our  consider- 
ation. 

"  God  hath  concluded,"  is  the  declaration  of  the 
text,  "  all  in  unbelief,"  or  "  under  sin."  This  lan- 
guage does  not  merely  teach  that  since  men  have, 
in  fact,  become  sinners,  God  now  regards  them  as 
such, — it  expresses  the  higher  truth,  that  our  race 
have  fallen  into  this  state  of  sin,  by  His  permissive 
will.     "  God  hath  concluded  all  in  unbelief." 

The  word  "  concluded,"  here,  has  evidently  not 
its  now  common  and  ordinary  signification  of  fin- 
ished^ completed^  but  its  original  and  proper  etymo- 
logical signification  as  given  in  the  margin,  shut  up 
together.     The  form  of  expression  represents  us,  as. 


308  THE     PEINCETON     PULPIT. 

by  tlie  permission  of  God,  shut  up  togetlier  under 
sin, — like  prisoners,  shut  up  together  in  a  prison ; 
or  like  the  occupants  of  a  besieged  city,  shut  up  to- 
gether by  the  power  of  the  enemy.  So  has  God 
seen  fit  to  give  up  our  race  to  the  power  of  sin. 

That  we  are  thus  under  sin  by  His  permissive 
will,  is  evident : 

1st.  From  the  very  fact  itself,  that  we  are  now 
under  sin.  For  this  important  fact  in  the  history 
of  mankind,  must  have  occurred  either  hy  the  per- 
missive will  of  God,  or  in  opposition  to  His  will,  or 
(the  only  remaining  supposition)  He  had  no  will  in 
regard  to  the  occurrence. 

Now,  we  say  that  neither  this  event,  nor  any 
event,  small  or  great,  has  ever  occurred,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  will  of  the  Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  uni- 
verse. "  My  counsel  shall  stand,  and  I  will  do  all 
my  pleasure,"  saith  the  Lord.  Yea,  Jehovah,  the 
only  God,  ever  "  doeth  His  will  among  the  armies 
of  heaven  and  the  inhabitants  of  earth."  No  crea- 
ture, nor  combination  of  creatures,  can  stay  His  al- 
mighty arm. 

Nor,  further,  can  it  be  true,  that  God,  our 
Maker,  liacl  no  ivill  in  reference  to  the  obedience  or 
fall  of  man,  and  the  consequent  holiness  or  sinful- 
ness of  our  race.  The  God  of  the  Bible  is  not — as 
some  of  the  heathen  imagine  of  their  deities — indif- 
ferent to  the  condition  of  the  creatures  He  has 
brought  into  being.  He  is  not  only  the  Creator, 
but  the  Controller  and  Governor  of  the  universe, 
having  his  own  wise  and  mighty  purposes,  which 
He  is  ever  accomplishing.     "  His  throne  is  in  the 


JOHN    T.     DUFFIELD.  309 

Leavens,  and  He  maketli  this  earth  His  footstool, 
and  His  kingdom  ruleth  over  all."  The  very  hairs 
of  our  head  are  numbered  by  Him — yea  "  not  a 
sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground  without  our  Father" 
— and  dare  we  imagine,  that  He  was  or  is  indiffer- 
ent as  that  which  affects  the  destiny  of  a  whole 
I'ace  of  His  immortal  creatures  ? 

Since,  then,  the  fall  of  man,  and  the  consequent 
sinfulness  of  our  race,  could  not  have  occurred  in 
opposition  to  the  Divine  will, — since  it  is  an  event, 
in  regard  to  which  He  would  not  have  been  indif- 
ferent, we  say,  that  the  very  existence  of  the  fact, 
is  an  incontestible  proof  that  it  occurred  by  His 
permissive  will. 

But,  2dly,  This  is  further  confirmed  by  the  ex- 
j)ress  declarations  of  Scripture.  "  He  worketh  all 
things^''  says  the  Apostle,  "all  things  after  the 
counsel  of  His  own  will."  Eph.  i.  11.  And  lest 
any  should  suppose  that  sinful  events  were  beyond 
or  without  His  providential  control.  His  own  voice 
is  heard  declaring  "  I  form  the  light,  and  create 
darkness, — I  make  peace,  and  create  evil ;  I,  the 
Lord,  do  all  these  things."  Isa.  xlv.  T.  With  even 
more  distinctness,  if  possible,  the  Spirit,  by  Solo- 
mon, declares,  "  the  Lord  hath  made  all  things  for 
Himself,  yea,  even  the  wicked  for  the  day  of  evil." 
Prov.  xvi.  4.  In  harmony  with  these  and  similar 
passages  of  Scripture,  is  the  declaration  of  the  text, 
"  God  hath  concluded  all  in  unbelief." 

In  regard  to  the  proposition  here  maintained, 
that  men  are  under  sin  by  the  permissive  will  of 
God,  it  may  be  appropriate  to  remark,  that  it  does 


310  THE    PRINCETON    PULPIT 

not  mean,  that  God  compelled  our  first  parents 
to  eat  the  forbidden  fruit,  or  now  compels  any  of  our 
race  to  sin ;  neither  does  it  mean  that  God  at  all 
interfered  with  the  wills  of  our  first  parents,  or  now 
interferes  with  our  wills,  so  as  to  dispose  us  to  sin 
voluntarily  against  Him.  There  is  no  such  agency 
on  the  part  of  God,  in  the  occurrence  of  sin,  as  to 
make  Him,  in  any  sense,  the  author  of  our  iniquity. 

But  it  means,  and  simply  means,  that  God,  by 
wise  and  holy  determination,  permitted,  and  still 
permits  man,  in  the  exercise  of  his  freedom  of  will, 
to  sin.  Sin,  on  the  part  of  man,  is  voluntary,  self- 
moved, — it  has  its  source  in  himself,  and  God  sees 
fit  to  withhold  restraining  grace.  The  Creator 
"made  man  upright,"  and  man,  not  God,  "has 
sought  out  wicked  inventions." 

This  view  of  sin,  as  to  the  manner  of  its  occur- 
rence, may  be  apprehended  more  distinctly  by  con- 
sidering the  language  of  Jehovah  on  one  occasion, 
in  regard  to  the  rebellious  Israelites — "  Ephraim  is 
joined  to  his  idols ;  let  him  alone."  Let  liim  alone. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  the  occurrence  of  sin,  that 
God  should  interfere  by  any  direct  agency, — it  is 
enough  that  He  lets  man  alone^  and  the  unrestrained 
human  heart  spontaneously  manifests  iniquity. 

III.  We  come,  then,  to  the  third  point  proposed 
for  our  consideration,  namely,  the  end  which  God 
accomplishes^  and  which  we  may  therefore  say^  He 
designed  to  accomplish^  ly  the  permission  of  sin. 

When  we  consider,  on  the  one  hand,  the  infinite 
Holiness   and   Benevolence  of  God;  and   on  the 


JOnX    T.    DUF  FIELD.  311 

other,  tlie  turpitude  of  sin,  and  the  inealculahle  mi- 
sery which  it  has  brought  upon  our  race,  the  in- 
quiry presents  itself, — Why  was  sin  permitted  ^ 

The  propriety  of  our  asking  this  question,  and 
endeavouring  to  know  the  answer,  depends  entirely 
upon  the  si:>irit  Mdiich  dictates  the  inquiry.  If  we 
ask  this,  from  any  feeling  of  doubt  or  mistrust  as  to 
the  infinite  holiness  and  goodness  of  God, — if  we  ask 
it  from  a  wish  to  know  the  reasons  of  His  deal- 
ings with  us,  that  we  may  sit  in  judgment  on  them, 
and  decide  whether  they  be  sufficient, — if  we  ask, 
from  a  want  of  confidence  in  the  Kuler  of  the  uni- 
verse, which  will  not  be  satisfied  until  we  understand 
and  approve  of  the  motives  of  His  conduct ;  if  such 
be  our  spirit,  we  do  in  asking  but  sin  most  heinous- 
ly against  our  ]\Iaker.  To  the  caviller  God  giv- 
eth  not  account  of  any  of  his  matters.  To  a 
spirit  of  presumptuous  inquiry,  His  reply  is  only  the 
withering  rebuke,  "  Who  art  thou,  O !  man,  that 
repliest  unto  God  ?  Shall  the  thing  formed  say  un- 
to him  that  formed  it,  '  Why  hast  thou  made  me 
thus  V  Has  not  the  potter  power  over  the  same 
clay  to  make  one  vessel  unto  honour,  and  another 
to  dishonour  ?" 

But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  approach  this  sub- 
ject in  humble  faith,  fully  assured  that  whether  we 
can  always  see  it  or  not,  God  is  righteous  in  all  His 
ways,  and  holy  in  all  His  works, — if  we  come,  be- 
lieving that  whatever  darkness  and  clouds  are 
round  about  Him,  righteousness  and  judgment  are 
still  the  habitation  of  His  throne, — if  we  come  to 


312  THE     PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

this  subject,  prepared  to  trust  God  in  regard  to 
whatever  of  Himself  He  has  not  yet  revealed,  or 
we  cannot  yet  understand,  and  only  desire  to  knoM' 
and  understand  so  far  as  He  has  seen  fit  to  reveal 
Himself ;  and  are  moved  to  this,  too,  not  by  mere 
carnal  curiosity,  but  that  we  may  be  led  thereby  to 
love  and  adore  Him  the  more, — if  we  humbly  seek 
an  answer  to  the  question  proposed  in  such  a  spi- 
rit, we  are  in  so  doing  not  only  innocently  engaged, 
but  are  fulfilling  a  solemn  and  responsible  duty, — 
a  duty  imposed  upon  us  by  every  intellectual  and 
moral  faculty  He  has  given  us,  and  by  every  reve- 
lation He  has  made  of  Himself,  in  His  works  and 
in  His  word.  The  highest  and  most  appropriate 
exercise  of  our  powers  is  in  seeking  after,  and  at- 
taining unto,  more  distinct  and  enlarged  views 
of  the  being,  and  attributes,  and  works,  and  word 
of  the  great  God  that  made  us.  "  This  is  eternal 
life" — the  very  life  of  an  immortal  spirit — "  to  hioiv 
Tliee^  the  only  true  and  living  God,  and  Jesus  Christ 
whom  Thou  hast  sent."  "Let  not  the  wise  man 
glory  in  his  wisdom,"  says  Jeremiah,  "  let  not  the 
mighty  man  glory  in  his  might — ^let  not  the  rich 
man  glory  in  his  riches;  but  let  him  that  glorieth 
glory  in  this,  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth 
me :  saith  the  Lord." 

Wilful  ignorance,  or  indifterence,  in  regard  to 
what  God  lias  revealed  of  Himself,  is  no  less  crimi- 
nal than  is  presumptuous  inquiry,  into  those  secret 
things  which  it  is  not  yet  given  us  to  know. 

We  may,  therefore — if  our  spiiit  be  one  of  hum- 


JOUN     T.     DUFF  I  ELD.  313 

ble  docility  and  faith — if  our  desire  Ibe  to  "  increase 
in  tlie  knowledge  of  God,"  that  our  love  for  Him, 
and  adoration,  may  thereby  be  increased, — we  may, 
or  rather  we  'sJiouhJ^  in  such  a  frame,  and  with  such 
motives,  seek  to  know  what  God  has  revealed  in 
regard  to  the  end  He  would  accomplish,  by  the 
permission  of  the  fall  and  sinfulness  of  our  race^ 

As  preparatory  to  an  answer  of  this  inquiry,  we 
remark,  that  God  was  imder  no  obligation  to  jpre- 
vent  sin.  The  Creator  was  not  hound  in  justice  to 
restrain  His  responsible  creatures  from  sinning 
against  Himself,  and  exposing  themselves  to  an  ade- 
quate punishment.  Having  created  them  holy,  and 
having  given  them  a  law  which  was  holy,  just,  and 
good,  it  was  their  duty  to  obey.  And  when,  self- 
moved,  they  would  violate  that  law,  and  bring  up- 
on themselves  its  penalty,  His  relation  to  them  im- 
posed on  Him  no  obligation  to  compel  their  obe- 
dience. To  deny  this,  is  simply  to  deny  God's 
right  of  moral  government  over  His  intelligent 
creatures.  It  would  be  an  absurdity  to  give  com- 
mands, with  promises  and  threatenings  annexed,  if 
the  law-giver  were  himself  obliged  to  accomplish 
the  performance  of  all  that  was  required.  We  re- 
peat, therefore,  that  God  was  tinder  no  obligation 
— He  was  not  bound  injustice  to  prevent  sin. 

This  truth,  whilst  of  course,  it  does  not  answer 
the  question  under  consideration,  is  of  importance 
in  this  connection,  as  preparing  the  mind  to  re- 
ceive the  answer. 

To  return  to  the  particular  inquiry  proposed — 
though  God  had,  as  we  have  seen,  the  right,  in 
21 


314  THE     PEIlSrCETON     PTJLPIT. 

justice,  to  permit,  yet  wliat  are  we  to  regard  as  His 
design  in  permitting,  the  sin  of  the  human  race  ? 

To  obtain  an  intelligent  answer  to  this  question, 
we  should  first  ask  the  more  general  question— 
what  is  the  design  or  ultimate  end  of  all  God's 
works  of  creation  and  providence  ? 

By  our  very  idea  of  God,  as  the  self-existent,  the 
Infinite,  the  Eternal,  as  well  as  by  the  teachings  of 
Scripture,  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
main  design,  the  ultimate  end,  the  final  cause  of 
His  creative  and  providential  acts,  all  and  singular, 
has  not  reference  to  anything  in  the  creature,  but 
to  Himself,  the  Creator.  Not  only  is  it  true  that, 
"  by  Him  were  all  things  created,  that  are  in 
heaven  and  that  are  in  earth,  visible  and  invisible, 
whether  they  be  thrones  or  dominions  or  principal- 
ities or  powers,"  not  only  by  Him  but  '■'■for  Him, 
were  they  all  created."  Col.  i.  16.  Or  as  it  is 
declared  in  the  song  of  the  heavenly  host — "  Thou 
hast  created  all  things,  and  for  Thy  pleasure  they 
are  and  were  created."  Rev.  iv.  11.  God  is  not 
only  the  source,  and  the  means,  but  the  eiul  of  all 
His  works.  "  Of  Him,  and  through  Him,  and  to 
Him,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  are  all  things,  to  whom  be 
glory  for  ever."     Rom.  xi.  36. 

And  when  we  further  ask,  what  end  in  reference 
to  Himself^  God  would  accomplish,  by  His  various 
works  and  dispensations,  we  unhesitatingly  answer, 
the  promotion  of  His  own  glory.  "  All  Thy  works 
shall,  and  do  praise  Thee,  O  Lord."  Ps.  cxlv.  10. 
The  glory  of  God^  is  the  great  end  of  all  His  works 
of  creation  and  providence. 


JOirif      T.      DUFFIELD.  315 

But  what  is  precisely  meant,  wlien  it  is  said, 
tliat  all  God's  works  are  designed  to  promote  His 
glory  ?  Is  it  meant  that  these  things,  or  anything, 
either  did  or  could,  add  to  the  essential  glory  of 
the  Most  High  ?  Can  it  mean  that  the  greatness 
or  the  excellence  of  the  Deity,  is  thereby  enhanced  ? 
No,  God  was  no  less  the  infinitely  glorious  God, 
before  ever  time  was, — before  the  foundation  of  the 
earth  or  heavens  were  laid — before  aus^ht  of  the 
vast  universe  had  existence — when,  as  yet,  the 
Godhead  dwells  alone,  rejoicing  in  the  ineffable 
bliss  of  their  own  divine  communion.  Just  as  the 
sun,  which  courses  in  such  majesty  the  heavens, 
would  be  the  self-same  glorious  object,  though  no 
eye  had  been  created  to  behold  its  splendour — so, 
God  would  have  been  the  self-same  glorious  God, 
though  no  "  morning  star"  had  been  brought  into 
being,  to  sing  His  praises — though  no  one  of  the 
"  sons  of  God"  had  ever  been  created,  to  glorify 
Him,  with  shouts  of  joy. 

When,  therefore,  it  is  said,  that  the  works  of 
creation  and  providence  were  all  designed  to  j)ro- 
mote  tlte  glory  of  God,  reference  is  had,  not  to  His 
essential  or  intrinsic  glory,  but  t'O  His  declarative, 
or  manifested  glory.  His  works  and  dispensations 
were  not  designed  to  add  to,  but  to  manifest,  the 
already  existing,  infinite  excellence  and  majesty  of 
His  adorable  being,  and  attributes. 

When  in  eternity  God  dwelt  alone,  in  infinite 
wisdom  and  love.  He  determined  to  make  a  mani- 
festation of  Himself — to  show  forth  His  glory. 
And  how  would  He  effect  this  purpose  ?  By  briiig- 


316  THE     PKINCETON     PULPIT. 

ing  into  being,  creatures  endowed  with  faculties 
whereby  they  might,  in  some  measure,  apj^rehend 
His  glory ;  and  then  making  to  them  revelations  and 
exhibitions  of  His  being,  and  character,  and  attri- 
butes ; — such  exhibitions  and  revelations  as  would 
afford  them  some  true  knowledge  of  Himself,  and 
lead  them,  in  the  fullness  of  gratitude  and  of  joy, 
to  love  and  serve,  and  glorify  Him  for  ever.     Hie 
glory  of  God^  as  it  consists  in  the  manifestation  of 
Himself^  is  the  great  design,  the  ultimate  end,  the 
final  cause  of  all  His  creative  acts  and  providential 
dispensations.     His  works  and  words  and  ways  are 
all  but  different  exhibitions  of  some  one  or  other 
of  the  glorious  attributes  of  His  character — different 
manifestations  of  His  being,  or  wisdom,  or  power, 
or  holiness,  or  justice,  or  goodness,  or  truth.     They 
are  designed  to  lead  His  intelligent  creatures  who 
behold  them,  to  a  clearer  and  more  comprehensive 
!  view  of  Himself  and  His  adorable  perfections,  to 
the   end,  that  they  may  be  filled   thereby,  with 
J         ever  new  and  constantly  increasing,  joy  and  love, 
and  adoration.     It  is  in  this  light  that  we  should 
ever  view  the  wonders  of  His  works — it  is  with 
this  key  alone  that  we  may  endeavour  to  unlock 
the  mysteries  of  His  providence. 

Wlien  we  come  then  to  the  particular  question 
under  consideration — the  design  of  God  in  the  per- 
mission of  the  sinfulness  of  man,  we  are  to  look  for 
the  solution,  in  the  reply  to  the  more  easily  answered 
question, — the  manifestation  of  what  attribute  of 
God  is  peculiar  to  His  dispensations  towards  the 
human  race  ?     What  phase  of  His  all  glorious  per- 


JOHN     T  .      D  U  F  F  I  E  L  D  .  317 

fection,  is  here  most  fully,  and  yet,  elsewhere  not 
at  all  (we  have  reason  to  believe,)  displayed  ? 

AVe  answer  from  the  whole  history  of  those 
dealings,  as  well  as  from  the  declaration  of  such 
scrij^tures,  as  the  text — His  mercy  ;  and  by  this  we 
distinctly  meai;.  His  favour  toward  the  (juilty — His 
love  toward  sinners.  Other  divine  attri])utes  are 
of  course  exhibited,  and  that  most  glorionsly,  in 
God's  dispensations  toward  our  race,  ]>nt  they  ap- 
pear as  incidental  to  the  manifestation  of  His  mercy. 
This  darling  attribnte  is  here  "pecidiar-l]!  displayed. 
He  "  concluded  all  in  unbelief  that  He  might  have 
mercy  upon  all."  He  permitted  man  to  fall,  but 
He  has  manifested  the  wonders  of  His  love  toward 
the  fallen.  He  did  not  restrain  our  race  from  sin, 
as,  we  should  bear  in  mind  He  was  under  no  obli- 
gation to  do,  but  when  we  had  become  thus  "  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,"  "  by  nature,  children  of 
wrath,"  because  He  was  "rich  in  mercy.,  for  His 
great  love  wherewith  He  loved  us,"  He  quickens 
us  from  our  death  of  sin,  into  newness  of  spiritual 
life^  and  all  this,  to  the  end,  as  we  are  told  by  in- 
spiration, "  that  in  the  ages  to  come.  He  miglit  shew 
the  exceeding  riches  of  His  grace  in  His  kindness 
toward  us,  through  Christ  Jesus."      Eph.  ii.  1 — 7. 

Until  the  fall  of  man,  there  doubtless,  had  never 
been  a  manifestation  of  the  divine  attribute  of 
mercy.  We  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  His 
creatures  as  yet  knew,  that  "  the  Lord  was  gracious, 
and  full  of  compassion,"  even  for  the  guilty.  Angels 
had  sinned  and  without  mercy  th.ey  were  visited 
with   wrath    and    destruction.    It   was   not  until 


318  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

man,  too,  had  fallen,  ttiat  this  previously  unseen 
attribute  was  destroyed.  And  then,  how  glorious- 
ly— not  merely  mercy,  but  mercy  truly  Godlike 
— not  simply  grace,  but  "  riches  of  grace  un- 
searchable,"— not  only  love,  but  infinite  "  love, 
the  length  and  breadth  and  depth  and  height 
of  which,  passeth  knowledge," — a  love  which 
not  only  delivers  from  a  merited  punishment, 
but  raises  up  to  glory — a  strange  affection,  which 
has  vile  sinners  for  its  objects,  and  not  only 
snatches  them  from  out  the  very  jaws  of  death  and 
hell  eternal,  but  washes  them  from  all  defilement, 
and  making  them  partakers  of  the  divine  nature," 
— exalts  them  to  high  seats  "  in  heavenly  places" 
with  incarnate  Deity.  Yes,  here  was  exhibited,  a 
new,  a  most  glorious,  and  yet  probably  a  previous- 
ly unimagined  attribute  of  Jehovah's  character. 

'•  Never  did  angels  taste,  above, 
Redeeming  grace  and  dying  love." 

Other  divine  attributes  had  long  previously  been 
manifested,  and  had  excited  the  adoration  of  the 
unMlen  heavenly  host.  They  had  seen  the  heavens 
declaring  the  glory  of  their  Maker,  and  the  firma- 
ment showing  forth  His  handiwork.  The  existing 
universe  was  to  them  a  record  of  their  Creator's 
wisdom,  power  and  skill,  and  they  had  been  taught 
thereby,  the  anthem  of  Blessing,  and  honour,  and 
glory,  and  power,  to  Him  who  had  created  all 
things,  and  for  whose  pleasure  they  are  and  were 
created. 

And  again,  in  all  the  faculties  of  their  being, 


JOUN      T.      DUF  FIELD.  319 

and  ill  the  abundant  provision  made  for  tlieir  right 
exercise,  affording  an  existence  of  uninterrupted  and 
uniningled  happiness,  the  angelic  hosts  had  a  con- 
stant manifestation,  or  rather,  an  experience  of  Je- 
hovah's goodness — His  benevolence — that  attribute 
which  moves  Him  to  promote  the  happiness  of  his 
creatures.  They  had  tasted  and  seen  that  "the 
Lord  was  good. 

And  further,  in  the  holy  character  of  all  their 
joys,  in  the  very  constitution  of  their  natures,  and 
in  that  law  of  their  Creator,  to  which  they  all 
were  subject,  they  had  full  exhibition  of  God's  at- 
tribute of  holiness,  and  they  ceased  not,  day  nor 
night,  to  shout  one  to  another,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy, 
is  our  Lord  God  Almighty." 

And  once  more,  when  rebellion  had  entered  the 
ranks  of  the  heavenly  host,  and  Satan  seduced 
many  to  foul  revolt  against  the  majesty  of  heaven, 
and  Jehovah,  in  just  judgment,  cast  the  rebels  from 
his  presence  down  to  hell — reserved  there  in  chains 
and  darkness  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day, 
the  unfallen  angels  saw  an  exhibition  of  God's  at- 
tribute of  justice,  and  of  his  truth  immutable,  and 
they  doubtless  sung,  as  John  in  vision  heard  them 
sing,  when  the  vials  of  wrath  were  poured  out, 
upon  the  finally  impenitent  of  men,  "  Thou  art 
righteous,  O  Lord,  because  thou  hast  thus  judged, 
for  they  are  worthy — even  so.  Lord  God  Almighty, 
true  and  righteous  are  thy  judgments." 

Before  the  fall  of  man,  therefore,  the  intelligent 
creation  had  seen  full  manifestations  of  God's  being, 
and  wisdom,  and  power,  and  goodness,  and  holiness, 


320  THE      PEINCETON      PULPIT. 

and  justice  and  triifh.  But  as  yet,  tliey  liad  not 
seen  an  exliibition  of  God's  grace  and  mercy.  They 
tad  known,  indeed,  His  love,  but  not  His  love  to- 
ward sinners.  "When,  therefore,  in  the  garden,  our 
first  parents  plucked  and  ate  the  fruit  forbidden, 
what  strange  surprise  must  have  filled  the  angelic 
host,  at  God's  delay  to  thrust  down  sinful  man  to 
an  abode  with  guilty  devils  in  the  pit !  With 
what  wonder  would  they  hear  their  holy  Sovereign, 
as  he  drove  the  sinning  pair  forth  from  the  garden, 
announce  to  them  the  promise,  that  the  woman's 
seed  should  bruise  the  serpent's  head !  And  when 
our  fallen  parents,  ventured  from  time  to  time,  to 
draw  nigh  to  God  in  worship,  and  the  heavenly 
host  beheld  that  they  were  not  repulsed — when 
they  saw  them  bringing  offerings  to  the  Lord,  to 
which  He  "  had  respect,"  how  would  their  hearts 
begin  to  throb  with  a  new  joy,  as  they  beheld  in 
this  the  o^limmerinc's  of  a  manifestation  of  a  new 
and  glorious — a  previously  unseen  attribute  of  their 
adorable  Jehovah  !  And  when  righteous  Abel  was 
stricken,  first  of  human  kind,  by  the  hand  of  death, 
and  his  disembodied  spirit  recreated  in  God's  image, 
appeared  among  the  unfallen  worshippers  of  the  up- 
per sanctuary,  cleansed  from  all  the  defilement  of 
his  sins,  spotless  as  the  holy  host  around  him,  re- 
joicing with  them  in  the  pure  and  perfect  joys  of 
their  heavenly  dwelling-place,  with  what  a  thrill 
of  gladness  would  they  welcome  him  to  their  blessed 
communion,  and  with  T^hat  swelling  bursts  of  a  new 
praise  would  they  adore  the  wonderful  love  of 
their  divine  Creator !  With  what  ready  zeal  would 


JOHN-     T.      DUFFIELD.  621 

tliey  uow  go  fortli  on  the  strange  mission  of  minis- 
tering to  sinful,  vile  children  of  the  dust,  yet  still, 
hy  wondrous  love  of  God,  the  heirs  of  heaven  and 
glory  !  How  cheerfully,  and  with  swift  wing,  would 
they  fly  at  God's  command,  to  take  charge  of  the 
chosen  ones,  to  bear  them  up  in  their  angelic  hands, 
to  guard  with  tender  care,  the  pathway  of  their 
earthly  pilgrimage,  to  be  with  them  and  sustain 
them  in  the  hour  of  death,  and  after  death,  to  re- 
ceive them  into  fond  embrace,  and  convey  them  to 
the  blessed  everlasting  mansions !  And  with  what 
interest  would  the  angels  watch  all  the  operations 
of  this  gracious  love  of  God — how  would  they 
study  its  successive  developments  and  "desire  to 
look  into"  the  mysteries  of  the  wondrous  plan,  in 
which  they  kne^,  though  as  yet  they  knew  not 
how,  "  mercy  and  truth  did  meet  together — right- 
eousness and  peace  did  kiss  each  other !"  And 
when,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  they  beheld  Him, 
whom  they  had  ever  worshipped  as  their  God  and 
Creator — co-equal  with  the  Father,  and  the  very 
"  brightness  of  His  glory" — leaving  His  high  seat 
upon  the  throne,  veiling,  as  it  were.  His  majesty  di- 
vine, descending  to  earth,  and  taking  upon  Him- 
self the  humble  nature  of  humanity,  and  that  too, 
in  its  humblest  form — a  feeble  babe,  in  Bethlehem's 
stable  manger — when  they  beheld  the  amazing 
sight  of  Deity  incarnate,  and  saw  that  in  that  hu- 
miliation, the  mercy  and  the  justice,  the  grace  and 
yet  the  holiness  of  God,  were  all  to  be  harmoni- 
ously and  most  gloriously  displayed — overwhelmed 
with  wonder  no  longer,  merely  at  the  love  of  God, 


322  THE    PKIlSrCETON    PULriT. 

but  at  tlie  infiuitude  of  that  love,  and  at  tlie  infinite 
wisdom  displayed  in  the  plan  for  a  sinner's  salva- 
tion— from  heaven  to  earth,  and  back  again  to 
heaven,  with  joyful  lips  they  shout,  "  Glory  to  God 
in  the  Highest,  peace  on  earth,  good  will  toward 
men — glory  to  God  in  the  Highest !"  And  when 
the  dispensations  of  this  wondrous  plan  of  grace 
shall  have  been  completed,  when  the  chosen  of  the 
Lord  shall  all  have  been  iugathered,  and  ten  thou- 
sand times  ten  thousand,  and  thousand  of  thou- 
sands, redeemed  from  among  the  children  of  men 
shall  ajipear  in  the  presence  of  God's  heavenly 
glory,  with  their  robes  of  white,  and  their  harps  of 
gold,  and  their  palms  of  victory,  and  their  crowns 
of  everlasting  life — when  Jesus  shall  present  before 
the  throne.  His  blood-bought  church  complete,  then 
shall  all  heaven's  hosts  unite,  around  the  throne,  in 
new  strains  of  loftiest  adoration — then  shall  the 
apocalyptic  ascription  of  highes^  glory  to  Jehovah 
be  fulfilled  :  "  I,  John,  heard  a  great  voice  of  much 
people  in  heaven,  saying,  Alleluia;  salvation  and 
honour,  and  power,  unto  the  Lord  our  God  ;  and 
again  they  said  Alleluia ;  and  the  four  and  twenty 
elders  and  four  beasts  fell  down  and  worshipped 
God,  that  sat  on  the  throne,  saying.  Amen, 
Alleluia ;  and  a  voice  came  out  of  the  throne,  say- 
ing. Praise  our  God,  all  ye  his  servants:  and  I 
heard,  as  it  were,  the  voice  of  a  great  multitude,  and 
the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty 
thunderings,  saying.  Alleluia,  for  the  Lord  God 
omnipotent  reigneth,  let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  and 


JOHN      T.      DUFFIELD.  323 

give  liononr  to  Him,  for  tlie  marriage  of  the  Lamh 
is  comey  Rev.  xix.  1 — 7. 

In  view  of  these  results,  wliicli  God  accomj^lislies 
for  His  glory,  can  we  doubt  as  to  tlie  main  design, 
the  ultimate  end,  the  final  cause  of  His  dispensa- 
tions towards  the  human  race,  including,  as  these 
dispensations  do,  the  permission  of  our  sin. 

In  conclusion,  it  remains  but  to  ask,  what  effect 
should  be  produced  in  us  by  the  important  truths 
we  have  been  considering.     We  answer : 

JFirsi.  This  subject  should  produce  in  us  as  it  did 
in  the  Apostle,  (as  seen  from  the  context,)  more 
profound  views  of  the  ahsolute  sovereignty  of  God. 
He  is  Himself,  the  source,  the  means,  and  the  end 
of  all  His  works.  He  is  "  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega, 
the  beginning  and  the  ending,  the  first  and  the 
last" — ever  accomplishing  His  own  wise  and  holy 
purposes  among  "  the  armies  of  heaven  and  the  in- 
habitants of  earth."  The  highest  and  holiest  of  His 
creatures  have  neither  merit  nor  power  before 
Him.  All  are  less  than  vanity,  and  as  nothing,  be- 
fore God.  "  For  who  hath  first  given  to  Him,  that 
it  should  be  recompensed  to  him  again  ?  For  of 
Him,  and  to  Him,  and  through  Him,  are  all  things, 
to  whom  1)6  glory  for  ever."  Rom.  xi.  35,  36. 

Secondly.  These  truths  should  lead  us  as  they  did 
the  Apostle,  (as  seen  from  the  context,)  to  adore 
the  infhiite  wisdom  and  hnowledge  of  God^  as  dis- 
played in  His  dealings  with  our  race.  We  should 
be  ready  to  exclaim  with  Paul,  "  Oh,  the  depth  of 
the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of 
God."     AU  comprehending  knowledge,  which  em- 


324  THE    PEINCETON    PULPIT. 

braced  tlie  countless  thousands  of  our  race,  wliicli 
took  in  all  the  necessities  and  circumstances  of 
their  being,  whicli  surveyed  all  the  means  requi- 
site to  the  accomj^lishment  of  the  divine  purpose, 
and  all  the  results  of  those  means  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end.  Infinite  wisdom,  too,  in  selecting 
and  adaj)ting  the  means  to  the  object  in  view,  in 
the  ordering  of  every  part,  as  well  as  the  whole  of 
the  entire  scheme  of  human  destiny,  so  that  our 
highest  happiness,  and  the  glory  of  our  Creator, 
may  thereby  ever  be  abundantly  promoted.  We 
see  displayed  herein  not  merely  Almighty  power 
triumphing  over  sin,  and  death,  and  hell,  but 
wisdom  infinite, 

"  Building  on  sin's  demolished  throne, 
A  temple  to  God's  praise. 

From  broken,  scattered  fragments,  gathered  out 
of  the  very  ruins  of  the  fall,  Jehovah  has  reared  a 
monument,  which  everlastingly  shall  stand  to  the 
praise  of  His  glorious  grace,  and  throughout  all 
coming  ages,  shall  display  "  to  the  principalities 
and  powers  in  heavenly  places,  the  manifold  wis- 
dom of  God."  Eph.  iii.  10. 

Tliirdly.  The  truths  we  have  been  considering 
should  fill  our  hearts  with  grateful  love  to  the 
Father  of  mercies  and  the  God  of  all  grace.  What 
reason  have  we  for  thankfulness,  in  being  permitted 
to  experience  that  "  the  Lord  is  gracious  and  full  of 
compassion  !"  For  bear  in  mind,  that  every  bless- 
ing we  enjoy,  every  good  thing  that  cometh  down 
to  us  from  the  Father  of  Lights,  all  the  unsearch- 


JO  11?^     T.      DUF  FIELD.  825 

able  riches  of  Christ,  are  blessings  undeserved,  gifts 
to  which  we  not  only  have  no  claim,  but  the  very 
reverse  of  which  is  our  desert.  God  was  under  no 
obligation  to  provide  a  ransom  for  us,  and  in  Ilim 
manifest  to  us  His  unbounded  love.  The  hopeless 
state  of  devils  in  the  pit,  may  teach  us  that  all  the 
favours,  we  sinners  of  mankind  enjoy,  are  the  gifts 
of  God's  rich,  free,  sovereign,  and  distinguishing 
grace. 

And  how  should  we  feel  His  claims  upon  our 
gratitude  and  love  rise  to  a  still  greater  height, 
when  we  consider,  that  not  only  are  we  made  the 
direct  objects  of  the  Divine  mercy,  but  He  has 
made  us  the  honoured  instruments  of  for  ever 
showing  forth  "  the  exceeding  riches  of  His  grace," 
to  all  the  intelligent  creation.  Not  only  are  Chris- 
tians now  "the  lights  of  this  world"— they  are 
henceforth  evermore  to  be,  as  it  were,  among  the 
very  lights  of  heaven.  Not  only  are  they  now 
epistles  of  God's  grace,  "known  and  read  of  men" 
—angelic  eyes  shall  ever  gaze  upon  them  with  in- 
terest and  delight,  and  behold  in  their  exaltation, 
the  infinite  wisdom  and  power,  the  holiness  and 
justice,  the  goodness  and  truth,  and  the  wonder- 
fully merciful  love  of  God. 

And  lastly,  these  truths  should  lead  each  one, 
personally,  to  seek  with  all  earnestness  and  diligence, 
to  have  these  blessed  purposes  of  mercy  fulfilled 
in  his  own  experience.  We  have  seen  the  great  end 
which  God  would  accomplish  in  all  His  dealings 
with  our  race,  we  are  able  to  understand  why  He 
he  has  brought  us  into  being  and  ordered,  as  he 


326  THE     PRINCETON     PULPIT. 

lias,  all  His  dispensations  towards  us,  to  manifest 
His  mercy  in  bestowing  npon  us  everlasting  happi- 
ness and  glory.  "We  have  clearly  set  before  us, 
therefore,  what  the  Lord  would  hare  us  to  do — 
accept,  at  once,  this  "  great  salvation,"  so  dearly 
purchased,  so  freely  offered ;  receive,  with  our  whole 
heart,  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  our  Saviour  and  our  King, 
and  enjoy  in  Him,  now  and  for  evermore,  Jehovah's 
gracious  and  unbounded  favour. 

We  may,  indeed,  refuse  these  precious  mercies. 
AYe  may,  notwithstanding  all,  "  neglect  this  great 
salvation."  And  what  then?  Shall  we  thereby 
rob  God  of  his  glory  ?  No — God  will  glorify  Him- 
self, not  only  in  them  that  are  saved,  but  also  in 
them  that  perish.  If  we  refuse  to  glorify  Him  in 
our  salvation.  He  will  glorify  Himself  in  our  de- 
struction. If  we  refuse  to  be  the  monuments  of 
His  mercy  in  the  realms  of  heavenly  light,  we  shall 
then  become  the  monuments  of  His  Almighty 
wrath  in  the  pit  of  darkness,  and  with  devils 
damned,  through  all  eternity,  display  the  holy  jus- 
tice of  our  Sovereign  God.  "Seek  ye  the  Lord, 
then,  whilst  He  may  be  found — call  ye  upon  Him 
whilst  He  is  near."  "  Oh  !  taste  and  see  that  the 
Lord  is  good — that  blessed  are  they  who  put  their 
trust  in  Him." 


Date  Due 


^     'i 


'^