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THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


SERMONS. 


BY    THE    LATE 


REY.  DAVID  3IERRILL, 


PEACHAM.    VT. 


A  SKETCH  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


AVIXDSOR,   Vt.       .     . 
^EI^'TED  AT  THE  YE 'OK '>".''  C>^I?O^^CLI;"JeKES 

1S55. 


...  13  t  »     *t      ' 


Jc^ 


d-  0  ij  ^-^ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

3lRS.  3IARY  G.  3IERRILL, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Vermont. 


PRICE,    ONE    DOLLAR. 


•  •  .  •    ..    •:•••• 


PREFACE 


Immediately  after  Mr.  Merrill's  death,  his  numerous  friends 
and  admirers,  both  at  the  East  and  at  the  West,  expressed  a  very 
earnest  desire  that  a  volume  of  his  sermons  might  be  published. 
Various  hinderances  arose ;  but  the  lapse  of  time  caused  an  in- 
crease rather  than  a  diminution  of  the  desire  mentioned. 

The  difficulties  attendant  upon  the  preparation  of  this  volume 
have  been  even  greater  than  is  usually  the  case  in  regard  to  post- 
humous publications.  Mr.  Merrill's  hand-vvrriting  is  exceedingly 
obscure,  so  that  nothing  could  be  printed  until  copied ;  and  of 
many  minor  matters,  demanding  attention  in  preparing  copy  for 
the  press,  he  was  remarkable  regardless. 

More  than  half  the  sermons  were  selected  by  Samuel  Merrill, 
Esq.,  and  several  of  the  others  were  inserted  by  special  request. 

The  portrait  accompanying  the  volume  was  engraved  after  a 
daguerreotype  of  Mr.  Merrill  in  his  fifty-first  year. 

THOMAS  SCOTT  PEARSON. 

Peacham,  Yt.,  30  Dec,  1854. 


CONTEXTS 


Paa-e 

Biographical  Sketch,  by  Thomas  Scott  Pearson, 7 

SERMON  I. 
The  "  Ox  Sermon,"  Exodus  xxi.  28, 29 13 

SERMON  11. 

The  Love  of  Life,  a  Duty,  Isaiah  xxxviii.  3 25 

Id.  2  Cor.  i.  10 36 

SERMON  III. 
The  Love  of  Money,  1  Timothy  vi.  10 43 

SERMON  IV. 
Secret  Prayer,  Matthew  vi.  6 56 

SERMON  V. 
Unsuccessful  Seeking  for  Heaven,  Luke  xiii.  24 69 

SERMON  VI. 

Wisdom  toward  them  that  are  without,  Coloss.  iv,  5. .   82 

SERMON  VII. 
Dangers  of  Youth,  2  Timothy  ii.  22 96 

SERMON  VIII. 
Tendency  of  the  Young  to  Infidelity,  Psalm  ii.  3 109 

SERMON  IX. 
On  the  Death  of  Rev.  Leonard  Worcester,  Heb.  vi.  12. .  121 


VI  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  X. 
On  .THE  Dea-tii  of  Erastus  Poor,  Ecclesiastes  ix.  10  ....148 

SERMON  XL 

At  the  Funeral  of  Dr.  G.  W.  Cobb,  Colossians  iv.  14..  161 

SERMON  XII. 

At. THE  Funeral  of  Jonathan  Marsh,  Revelations  i.  18. . .  176 

SERMON  XIII. 
One  Habitual  Sin  Ruins  the  Soul,  2  Kings  v,  18 187 

SERMON  XIY. 
Thanksgiving  Sermon,  1847,  Proverbs  xxii.  3 202 

SERMON  XV. 
Thanksgiving  Sermon,  1848,  2  Thessalonians  iii.  10 220 

SERMON  XVI. 
Temperance  Sermon,  1  Timothy  v.  22 236 

SERT^ION  XVII. 
The  Great  Salvation,  Hebrews  ii.  3 257 

SERMON  XVIH. 
Death  and  the  Judgment,  Hebrew^s  ix.  27 270 

SERMON  XIX. 
Submission,  John  xiii.  7 280 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 
OF  KEY.  DAYID   MERRILL.* 

BY  TH03IAS  SCOTT  PEAKSOX,  A.  31. 


Genealogy— Family  of  his  Grandfather— Family  of  his  Father— His  Youth— 
Conversion— Education— First  Fields  of  Labor— Eesidence  in  Urbana,  0.— 
Ecclesiastical  Relations— Settlement  in  Peacham.  Yt.— Position  and  Influ- 
ence in  Peacham— Sickness  and  Death— Action  of  Caledonia  Association 
of  Congregational  Ministers— His  Family— Publications— History  of  the 
"  Ox  Sermon  "—Statistics— His  Elocution— Traits  of  Character— General 
View  of  his  character,  by  Rev.  Mr.  Hubbard. 

Datid  Merrill  is  said  to  have  descended  from  Nathaniel 
Merrill,  who  settled  in  Ipswich,  Mass.,  in  1638,  and  married 
Susannah  Jourdan.  Their  son  Daniel  was  born  2  August, 
1642,  and  married  Sarah  Clough.     Their  son  Moses  was  born 

in  1683,  and  married  Mary  .     Their  son   Samuel  was 

born  20  July,  1711,  married  Ruth  Eaton,  and  settled  in  Ha- 
verhill, Mass.  Their  son  Samuel  was  born  7  Dec,  1737,  and 
married  Abigail  Eaton.  Their  second  son,  Jesse,  was  born 
8  Oct.,  1762,  and  David  was  the  son  of  Jesse. 

Tradition  saith  that  Samuel  Merrill,  David's  grandfather, 
was  early  left  an  orphan,  and  very  poor.  But  he  had  a  great 
deal  of  Yankee  energy  and  tact, — that  is,  power  to  create 
means.     For  instance,  while  quite  young,  being  unable  to  pur- 

*  The  writer  of  this  sketch  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with  its  subject. 
And  as  Mr.  Merrill  utterly  despised  "a  strictly  private  journal  kept  for  the 
public  eye,"  very  little  aid  was  to  be  obtained  i'rom  his  writings,  except  from 
a  letter,  giving  the  most  important  facts  in  his  history,  which  he  Avrole,  but 
did  not  forward,  to  Rev.  B.  B.  Edwards.  Beside  this  letter,  public  records, 
and  verbal  communications  from  his  relatives  and  parishioners,  our  informa- 
tion has  been  derived  cliiefly  from  communications  from  the  following  gentle- 
men, viz:  Rev.  Amos  Blaiichard,  Rev.  Wm.  B.  Bond.  Rev.  Asaph  Boutelle, 
J.  W.  Brinkerhott'.  Rev.  Rufus  Case,  Charles  C.  Cliase,  A.  M.,  Rev.  John  S. 
Gallowav,  Rev.  John  H.  Gurney,  Rev.  Austin  O.  Hubbard,  Rev.  Thomas  E. 
Hughs,  ."John  H.  Kimball,  Esq.,  Rev.  Jacob  Little,  Rev.  Ora  Pearson,  Rev. 
Ileman  Rood,  Joshua  Saxton,  Esq.,  Rev.  Joseph  Stevenson,  Rev.  James  P. 
Stone,  Rev.  Charles  White,  D.  D.,  P.  B.  Wilcox,  Esq.,  Rev.  John  K.  Young. 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 

cliase  or  hire  laboring  animals,  he  trained  a  yoke  of  wethers 
and  made  them  do  a  good  deal  of  business, — among  the  rest, 
draw  the  stone  for  quite  a  strip  of  stone  wall,  some  of  which  is 
still  standing  on  the  old  farm  in  Haverhill.  By  farming  and 
lumbering  he  acquired  a  handsome  property.  When  Bur- 
goyne's  invasion  was  heard  of  at  Haverhill,  he  raised  a  compa- 
ny, and,  as  their  Captain,  went  to  assist  in  the  capture  of  the 
proud  boaster.  He  died  29  Dec,  1801,— his  wife,  22  May, 
1816,  fct.  79. 

Their  children  were  nine  sons,  viz :  Samuel,  became  a  far- 
mer in  Methuen,  Mass. ;  Jesse,  (see  hereafter)  ;  James,  drown- 
ed while  rafting  on  the  Merrimack,  at  about  the  age  of  23  ;  Da- 
vid, a  farmer  in  Peacham,  Vt.,  and  Haverhill,  N.  H. ;  Evan,  a 
farmer  in  Haverhill,  jMass.  ;  Jonathan,  a  farmer  in  Methuen, 
Mass.  ;  William,  the  seventh  son,  was  intended  for  a  physician, 
but  became  a  farmer  and  occupied  the  homestead  in  Haverhill, 
which  is  now  occupied  by  his  son  William ;  John  was  a  mer- 
chant, etc.,  in  Pembroke,  N.  H. ;  Horatio  lived  in  GofFstown, 
N.  H.,  and  afterwards  in  Lowell,  Mass. 

Jesse  Merrill  married  Priscilla  Kimball,  of  Haverhill,  Mass., 
(daughter  of  Richard  Kimball  and  Sarah*  his  wife.)  They 
became .  residents  of  Peacham,  Vt.,  in  March,  1789.  Mr. 
Merrill  was  a  farmer.  He  represented  the  town  of  Peacham 
in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  State  of  Vermont  in  1811, 
'12,  '18,  '19,  and  held  numerous  town  offices.  He  died  8 
Oct.,  1840,  ret.  exactly  78.  Mrs.  Merrill  was  born  in  Haver- 
hill, Mass.,  4  July,  1768,  and  died  in  Peacham,  5  Dec,  1854. 

Their  children,  all  born  in  Peacham,  were  ten  sons  and 
three  daughters,  viz :  James,  born  8  May,  1790,  graduated 
Dartmouth  College,  1812,  became  a  lawyer  in  New  Berlin, 
Penn.,  was  a  prominent  and  influential  member  of  the  Consti- 
tutional Convention  of  Penn.  in  1838,  an  elder  in  the  Presby- 
terian^ Church,  died  29  Oct.,  1841;  Samuel,  b.  29  Oct., 
1792,  belonged  to  the  class  of  1817,  Dart.  Coll.,  was  a  lawyer 
in  Vevay,  Ind.,  a  few  years,  has  since  resided  in  Indianapolis. 
He  was  State  Treasurer  of  Indiana,  from  Dec,  1822,  to  Feb., 

*  Mrs.  K.  liaving  buried  her  husband  and  married  Eaton,  died  in 

Peacham,  Vt.,  16  Nov.,  1797,  aet.  66.    Her  grave  stone  says : 
"  Far  distant  from  my  native  place, 

"While  visiting  a  daughter  dear, 
Thy  call  sweet  Jesus  I  embrace ; 
Let  my  remains  be  buried  here." 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  9 

1834,  then  Presiaent  of  the  State  Bank  till  1844.  He  is  an 
elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  a  corporate  member  of  the 
A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  and  author  of  a  Gazetteer  of  Indiana,  etc. 
He  is  now  a  book  publisher  and  seller.  Jesse,  b.  1  Aug., 
1794,  received  the  degree  of  M.  D.  at  Dart.  Coll.,  1819,  has 
practiced  in  Franklin,  N.  H.,  and  other  places, — now  resides 
'in  Hopkinton,  Mass.  Hazen,  a  farmer  on  the  old  homestead 
in  Peachara  ;  David,  (see  hereafter)  ;  Betsey,  b.  29  Nov., 
1800,  married  Leonard  Johnson  of  Peacham ;  Franklin,  b.  24 
May,  1805,  a.  merchant  in  Covington,  Ind.,  some  years,  now 
a  farmer  near  Indianapolis,  Ind. ;  Priscilla,  b.  4  April,  1808, 
died  26  Aug.,  1814;  John,  b.  May,  1810,  d.  Feb.,  1812. 
The  other  three  sons  and  one  daughter  died  in  infancy. 

David  3Ierrill,  of  the  seventh  generation  from  Nathaniel, 
was  born  in  Peacham,  Vt.,  8  Sept.,  1798.  His  youth  showed 
no  peculiar  promise  except  a  most  voracious  fondness  for  read- 
ing. Addison's  "  Spectator  "  was  his  favorite  work.  He  was 
early  taught  that  "  to  obey  at  home  and  at  school  was  the  jSrst 
principle, — to  keep  the  Sabbath  and  attend  public  worship  the 
second."  The  instructions  of  his  worthy  pastor,  Eev.  Leonard 
Worcester,  to  which  he  listened  in  the  sanctuary,  doubtless  had 
considerable  influence  in  moulding  both  his  mind  and  heart. 

In  his  early  years,  his  notion  of  religion  was,  that  it  would 
do  well  enough  for  the  aged  and  infirm.  Beyond  this  he 
thought  scarcely  any  thing  about  it,  except  when  he  felt  an  un- 
defined fear.  In  his  fourteenth  year  there  was  some  religious 
excitement,  and  he  was  greatly  agitated.  He  commenced 
praying  morning  and  evening,  regarding  prayer  as  an  indispen- 
sable but  hateful  duty.  Associating  religion  with  prayer,  he 
disliked  the  two  equally ;  yet,  while  the  excitement  lasted,  he 
entertained  a  hope.  When  the  excitement  ceased,  he  ceased 
praying  and  hoping.  Looking  back  upon  his  religion,  he  saw 
that  it  was  only  fear.  Assuming  that  the  religion  of  others 
was  nothing  different  from  his  own,  he  concluded  that  there 
was  no  God,  or  if  there  was,  that  he  had  very  little  to  do  with 
men.  His  skepticism  maintained  its  supremacy  in  his  mind 
until  his  final  surrender  of  himself  to  Christ. 

In  1817  commenced  the  first  great  revival  in  Peacham,  as 
the  result  of  which  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  came  into  the 
church  by  profession.  At  the  commencement  of  the  work,  he, 
•who  was  afterwards  the  paster  of  many  of  its  subjects,  hated  it 


10  BIOGRAPUICAL    SKETCH. 

most  intensely,  and  ridiculed  it  wherever  it  was  safe.  His  father, 
becoming  piou.s,  commenced  family  worship,  at  which  he  was 
violently  enraged,  and  to  absent  himself  from  the  exercise,  he 
manufactured  all  sorts  of  pretexts.  He  and  a  companion  of 
about  his  own  age,  were  accustomed  to  spend  their  Sabbath 
noons  together,  and  together  go  to  and  return  from  meeting, 
occupying  themselves  in  ridiculing  the  work  of  grace  and  forti- 
fying each  other  against  personal  conviction,  licturning  home 
from  meeting,  one  sacrament  day,  he  commenced  a  humorous 
tirade  on  the  exercises,  when,  to  his  utter  confusion,  instead  of 
having  his  remarks  received  with  laughter  and  continued  in  the 
.same  strain,  he  received  a  solenm  exhortation  from  his  awakened 
friend.  He  was  immediately  deeply  distressed,  insomuch  that 
he  was  obliged  to  discontinue  his  studies.  For  a  long  time  he 
was  in  tliick  darkness — darkness  that  could  be  felt.  Finally 
a  gradual  change  came  over  his  feelings.  Prayer,  from  being 
hateful,  became  agreeable.  He  enjoyed  religious  meetings. 
Yet  he  was  unable  to  fix  any  precise  time  when  there  was  a 
great  change  in  his  feelings.  In  company  with  sixty-nine  oth- 
ers, he  joined  the  church  7  Dec,  1817. 

Having  fitted  at  Caledonia  County  Grammar  School,  in 
Peacham,  he  entered  Dartmouth  College  somewhat  in  advance 
and  graduated  there  22  Aug.,  1821.  His  standing  in  Col- 
lege, as  a  recitation  room  scholar,  though  respectable,  was  not 
remarkably  high.  But  his  good  humor  rendered  it  impossible 
that  he  should  not  be  popular,  and  his  good  sense  rendered  it 
equally  impossible  that  he  should  not  be  influential.  Influ- 
ence makes  the  man,  practically,  and  a  more  correct  estimate 
of  the  relative  position  a  student  will  occupy  in  after-life  can 
generally  be  formed  by  knowing  his  relative  position  as  to  in- 
fluence among  his  fellows,  than  by  knowing  his  relative 
"marks"  at  recitation.  For  the  same  qualities  which  enable 
the  student  to  influence  students,  will  enable  the  man  to  influ- 
ence men.  It  by  no  means  rarely  occurs  that  he  of  strong 
common  sense  and  large  general  information,  who  thereby 
sways  the  minds  of  his  fellows  more  than  his  more  '^  learned  " 
classmate,  retains  through  life  his  vantage  ground.  Mr.  Mer- 
rill had  the  common  sense  and  general  information  requisite  to 
give  him  prominence.  His  classmates  felt  that  "he  would 
make  a  man."  At  one  time  they  manifested  their  regard  for 
him   by  electing   him  a  prize  speaker.     With   characteristic 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  11 

shrewdness  he  declined  the  honor,  on  the  ground  that  their 
friendly  partiality  had  over-rated  his  ability. 

In  his  studies,  the  general  principle  was  all  he  aimed  at,  be- 
ing neglectful  of  minor  details.  This  habit  gave  him  the  power 
of  clearly  expressing  general  principles,  without  a  tediously 
prolix  enumeration  of  subordinate  truths  somewhat  connected 
therewith,  and  doubtless  was  a  benefit  to  him  in  forming  his 
style  of  thinking  and  writing ;  but  it  prevented  his  standing 
high  either  as  a  scholar  or  a  teacher. 

The  year  subsequent  to  his  graduation,  from  the  fall  of 
1821  to  that  of  1822,  he  was  employed  as  preceptor  of  Cale- 
donia County  Grammar  School  in  Peacham.  He  then  joined 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  where  he  completed  the  regu- 
lar course  of  study  and  graduated  in  1825.  At  Andover  he 
maintained  a  higher  rank  as  a  student  in  the  re<>;alar  course 
than  at  Dartmouth.  But  even  there  he  spent  much  of  his  time 
in  general  reading,  so  that  he  left  the  institution  by  no  means 
so  thoroughly  master  of  technical  theology  as  many  of  his 
classmates.  "  Yet  few,  if  any,"  says  one  of  the  class,  "car- 
ried away  more  rich  and  varied  mental  furniture." 

His  license  to  preach  was  given  by  the  Haverhill  Associa- 
tion, 9  Aug.,  1825, — Rev.  Jona.  Allen,  Moderator,  Rev. 
John  H.  Church,  Scribe.  He  soon  commenced  preaching  in 
Cohasset,  Mass.,  where  he  remained  about  seven  months. 
Part,  if  not  all  of  this  time,  he  was  in  the  service  of  the  Mass. 
Missionary  Society.  He  then  preached  in  Byfield,  Mass.,  about 
two  months,  and  at  Lamphrey  River,  N.  H.,  about  three 
months.  During  the  winter  of  1826-27,  he  preached  in  vari- 
rious  places  in  Indiana  and  Illinois. 

In  June,  1827,  he  commenced  preaching  in  Urbana,  Cham- 
paign Co.,  Ohio,  wdiere  he  remained  fourteen  years.  He  was 
ordained  in  April,  1828  ;  was  formally  installed  by  the  Presby- 
tery, Pastor  of  the  church  in  Urbana,  20  May,  1835.  When 
Mr.  Merrill  went  to  the  West  there  were  comparatively  few 
educated  ministers  there,  and  he  naturally  assumed  a  promi- 
nent and  influential  position  among  the  clergy,  besides  being 
universally  popular  among  the  people.  An  eminent  literary 
gentleman  at  the  West  says, — "  Mr.  Merrill  maintained  a  high 
standing  among  the  clergy  in  Ohio  during  all  his  residence 
there.  As  an  intellectual  and  effective  preacher,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  any  surpassed  him." 


12 


inOCiRAlMIlCAL    SKKTCII. 


His  labors  wore  abundant  and  useful.  Most  of  the  time  he 
preached  statedly  in  two  yjlaoes,  Urbuna  and  Buck  Creek, 
about  six  miles  apart.  Beside  his  Sabbath  preaching,  he  per- 
formed a  vast  amount  of  other  labor  ; — pastoral  visiting,  attend- 
ing funerals,  week-day  lectures,  protracted  meetings,  temper- 
ance meetings,  etc.,  both  in  his  own  and  other  towns,  the  im- 
portance of  wliich  cannot  be  very  exactly  estimated,  and  the 
results  of  which  will  not  be  fully  known  till  the  great  day  of 
final  account.  ]>cside  frcf{uently  witnessing  instances  of  the 
conversion  of  individuals,  he  enjoyed,  at  Urbana,  two  seasons 
of  special  revival.  As  the  result  of  his  labors  at  the  West, 
nearly  three  hundred  persons  were  received  to  the  churches 
under  his  care.  His  interest  was  not  confined  to  the  spiritual 
afR\irs  of  his  people.  He  often  participated  in  the  debates  of 
the  Mechanics  Institute,  and  delivered  frequent  lectures  before 
that  body.  He  always  lent  a  helping  hand  to  any  enterprize 
whicli  he  thought  would  be  useful  tp  the  community.  In  labor 
of  all  kinds  he  was  "instant  in  season,  out  of  season."  He 
was  respected  and  beloved  as  a  man,  a  citizen,  and  a  clergy- 
man. 

The  preliminary  misunderstandings  which  eventuated  in  the 
division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Old  and  New  Schools, 
had  their  rise,  progress  and  consummation,  during  Mr.  Mer- 
rill's residence  at  Urbana.  He  was  considerably  involved  in 
them,  and  Avas  regarded  rather  with  suspicion  by  his  Old  School 
brethren.  When  he  was  examined  for  installation,  in  1835, 
his  trial  sermon  was  objected  to  as  unsound  in  doctrine.  After 
a  free  conversation  between  him  and  the  Presbytery,  it  was 
seen  that  their  difference  was  verbal  rather  than  real.  Yet  he 
was  requested  to  read  a  second  sermon  upon  an  assigned  sub- 
ject. This  proving  satisfactory.  Presbytery  installed  him.  In 
February,  1840,  he  was  expelled  from  his  Presbytery  on  ac- 
count of  his  New  School  predilections.  However,  on  account 
of  the  informality  of  the  proceedings  against  him,  he  was  re- 
stored when  the  case  came  before  the  Synod.  His  church  re- 
mained Old  School  without  division,  wliich  is  conclusive  evi- 
dence of  his  remarkable  temperance  and  wisdom,  for  his  per- 
sonal popularity  would  very  easily  have  availed  to  draw  off  a 
consideral)le  portion  of  the  members  into  a  New  School  church. 
His  position  was  necessarily  an  uncomfortable  one.  A  New 
School  pastor  of  an  Old  School  church,  his  sympathies  and 


BIOGKAPIIICAL    SKETCH.  13 

ecclesiastical  connections  were  continually  in  conflict.  His 
usefulness  could  not  be  as  great  as  with  a  church  of  vievrs  upon 
all  subjects  similar  to  his  own.  Hence,  should  Providence 
open  for  him  a  new  field  of  labor,  ho  was  willing  to  enter 
upon  it. 

Tho  Congregational  church  in  Peacham,  Vt.,  from  which 
he  had  never  transferred  his  membership,  just  at  this  time,  was 
seeking  a  colleague  for  its  venerable  shepherd,  Piev.  Leonard 
Worcester,  whose  advanced  age  and  increasing  infirmities 
caused  him  to  ask  a  release  from  the  performance  of  further 
pastoral  service.  At  an  unusually  full  meeting  of  the  church, 
23  Juno,  1840,  a  unanimous  call  was  given  Mr.  Merrill  to 
take  the  position  above  indicated.  The  Society  concurred  in 
the  call,  2d  June,  18-10.  Mr.  Merrill's  letter  of  acceptance, 
in  which  he  agreed  to  move  as  early  in  tho  spring  as  the  weather 
and  roads  will  permit,  is  dated  28  Dec,  1840.  He  moved  to 
Peacham  in  June,  1841,  and  commenced  preachino-  the  last 
Sabbath  of  that  month.     He  was  installed  9  Sept.,  18-1-1.* 

He  was  now  in  no  enviable  position, — a  prophet  "  in  his 
own  country,  and  among  his  own  kin,  and  in  his  own  house." 
That,  under  such  circumstances,  he  was  able  honorably  to 
maintain  the  responsible  position  of  pastor,  proves  couclusivelv 
that  he  was  possessed  of  qualities  very  much  above  mere  lite- 
rary talent, — that  he  had  the  good  sense  to  perceive,  and  the 
self-control  to  observe  those  nice  proprieties  of  intercourse 
which  give  to  their  observer  not  only  a  charm  but  a  power, 
not  only  popularity  but  influence.  He  ''understood  human 
nature,"  as  few  do.  The  perfect  understanding  between  him- 
self and  his  senior  colleague,  exhibits  them  both  in  a  very- 
amiable  light.     Mr.  Merrill  did  not  regard  Mr.  Vforcester  as 

*  The  following  is  the  Council  that  installsd  him:  From  Meriden,  N.  H 
Rev.  Amos  Blanchard  ;  Danville,  IJov.  liichard  C.  Hand,  Dea.  Israel  r.Dana ' 
Cabot,  Kev.  Levi  H.  Stone,  Slarcus  O.  Fisher:  St.  Joknsbury  l.«,  Kev.  Josiah 
Morse,  J.  Morpe ;  St.  Johnsbury  2f/,  Kev.  John  H.  Worcester,  Joseph  P  Fair- 
banks, Esq.;  Waterford,  Rev.  Thomas  Hall,  T.  Stockwell ;  Littleton,  N  H. 
Rev.  Isaac  R.  Worcester,  Dea.  John  Merrill ;  Hardivick,  Rev.  Austin  U.  Hub- 
bard, Dea.  Daniel  French;  Barton,  Rev.  Ora  Pearson,  (not  at  meotin<'  of 
Council,)  John  II.  Kimball.  Esq.  Rev.  Messrs.  Jona.  Greenleaf,  Blod^ett, 
and  Jacob  >.'.  Loomis,  were  invited  to  sit  as  members,  and  "  Brothers  Sewell 
and  Carpenter,"  as  corresponding  members.  The  parts  wore  performed  an 
follows:  Invocation  and  Reading  Scripture,  I.  R.  Worcester;  Introductory 
Irayer,  A.  O.  Hubbard;  Sermon,  A.  Blanchard,  from  1  Cor.  ii.  2;  Conse- 
cratnig  Braver,  T.  Hall ;  Charge  to  the  Pastor,  R.  C.  Hand :  Kight  Hand  of 
I-ellowship,  J.  H.  AYorcester;  Address  to  the  People,  J.  Morse ;  Concluding 
Prayer,  J  Greeuleaf. 


14  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 

officially  dead,  neither  on  the  other  hand  did  Mr.  "Worcester 
regard  Mr.  Merrill  as  merely  his  curate. 

In  1842  the  church  in  Peacham  enjoyed  a  revival,  as  the 
result  of  which  a  large  number  of  new  members  joined  the 
church,  some  of  whom  are  now  among  its  most  useful  and  in- 
fluential members. 

His  influence  in  Peacham  was  controlling.  What  it  was  his 
business  to  attend  to,  he  took  hold  of  "with  his  might." 
Thus  he  rarely  failed  of  accomplishing  his  purpose,  and  that 
speedily.  What  was  none  of  his  business,  he  just  let  entirely 
alone.  Thus  he  saved  many  bickerings  and  undignified  re- 
treats to  which  the  more  inquisitive  and  meddlesome  are  sub- 
ject. All  wished  and  expected  that  for  many  years  more  he 
should  "go  in  and  go  out  before  them,  and  break  unto  them 
the  bread  of  life."     But  it  was  not  so  ordered. 

April  22,  1850,  he  left  home  for  a  visit  to  the  "West,  and 
after  a  very  agreeable  stay,  during  which  he  preached  every 
Sabbath  but  one,  returned  home  June  8,  and  preached  in  his 
own  pulpit  till  July  14.  "  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows 
before,"  and  it  really  seems  as  though  in  the  selection  of  the 
subjects  of  his  last  three  sermons,  he  must  have  been  guided 
by  a  presentiment  that  his  end  was  near.  In  the  forenoon  of 
the  last  Sabbath  that  he  preached,  he  attended  a  funeral,  at 
which  the  Methodist  clergyman  officiated.  The  text  of  his 
afternoon  sermon  (Sermon  XVIII.  in  this  Yol.)  was,  "It  is 
appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment." 
Heb.  ix.  27.  The  other  sermon  which  he  had  prepared  for 
that  day  was  from  Heb.  ix.  28.  Before  the  next  Thursday  he 
■wrote  another  sermon  (Serm.  XIX.  in  this  A'^ol.)  from  John 
xiii.  7,  "What  I  do  thou  knowcst  not  now ;  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter."  Most  appropriate  "  last  words,"  as  they  lit- 
erally were.  Thursday  forenoon,  July  18,  he  was  violently 
attacked  with  what  afterwards  proved  to  be  erysipelas.  He 
was  in  great  physical  suffering  and  his  mind  was  somewhat 
stupified,  but  he  showed  no  signs  of  delirium  until  Sabbath  af- 
ternoon, after  which,  as  the  result  of  medicine,  he  was  wander- 
ing part  of  the  time.  While  wandering,  he  thought  himself 
away  from  home,  and  expressed  great  anxiety  to  return  thither. 
Being  told,  in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  not  mistake  the 
solemn  meaning  intended,  that  he  was  "  going  home,  and  al- 
most there,"  he  instantly  manifested  a  full  comprehension  of 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  15 

his  sltnation,  and  said,  "Going  home  and  almost  tliore  !  and 
I  didn't  know  it.  It  is  too  late  now.  If  I  was  to  attempt  to 
say  any  tiling,  I  might  say  som.e  foolish  things."  This  was 
the  only  remark  concerning  his  personal  feelings  that  he  made 
during  his  sickness.  He  died  about  one  o'clock  Monday 
morning,  22  July,  1850. 

His  ifuneral  was  attended  on  Tuesday,  23  July,  Rev  Rufus 
Case,  of  St.  Johnsbury  East,  preaching  from  Rev.  xiv.  13, 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord."  A  vast  crowd 
attended  the  exercises,  and  the  deepest  sorrow  was  manifested 
by  all  classes.* 

Mr.  Merrill's  death  produced  a  general  seriousness  in  the 
town,  which,  in  November  and  December,  under  the  labors  of 
Rev.  James  Galhiher  of  Missouri,  developed  itself  in  a  revival, 
the  result  of  which  was  an  addition  to  the  church  of  about  forty 
members.  So  they  "which  he  slew  at  his  death,  were"  many, 
though  not  "  more  than  they  which  he  slew  in  his  life." 

The  Caledonia  Association  of  Congregational  ministers,  at 
its  meeting  13  August,  speak  of  Mr.  Merrill  as  "a  brother 
highly  esteemed  for  his  talents,  integrity,  and  efficiency  in  the 
various  departments  of  ministerial  labor."  and  "  Resolved  that 
they  consider  his  death  a  severe  bereavement,  not  only  to  his 
family  and  the  people  of  his  charge,  but  also  to  this  ministerial 
Association  and  the  Commonwealth."  Also,  "  Resolved,  that 
the  brethren  of  this  Association  will  supply  the  pulpit  made 
vacant  by  the  death  of  Bro.  Merrill,  at  least  one  Sabbath  each, 
for  the  benefit  of  his  afflicted  family."  This  supply  was  faith- 
fully performed, 

Mr.  Merrill  was  married  in  Urbana,  0.,  23  April,  1828,  to 
Miss  Mary  Amy  Hughs,  daughter  of  Rev.  James  Hughs. t 

*  Mr.  ^lerrill's  remains  repofe  in  the  Peacliam^rave  yard,  only  a  few  feet 
from  those  of  his  predecessor,  Eev.  Leonard  Worcester.  Upon  a  granite 
monument  is  inscribed  * 

DAYID    MERRILL, 

SECOND  PASTOR  of  CONGREGATIONAL 

CHURCH  IN  PEACHAM, 

Died  July  22  1850,  JE.  51  Years. 

"  I  have  fought  a  good  fight." 

t  Rev.  James  Hughs  was  born  in  Maryland,  22  Feb.,  1766;  educated  at  Jef- 
ferson College.  Tenn.;  read  theology  witli  Kev.  Josei)h  Smith,  Washington 
Co.,  Tenn. ;  was  pastor  of  a  I'resby  terian  church  iu  West  Liberty,  Va.,  twen- 


IG  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 

3Irs.  Merrill  was  born  in  West  Liberty,  Va.,  5  Jan.,  1S07. 
She  had  five  children,*  and  died  21  May,  1836.  i^Ir.  Merrill 
was  again  married  in  Urhana,  12  Sept.,  1837,  to  Miss  Mary 
Grand  in  Hunt,  daughter  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Vancleve  Hunt.t 
Mrs.  Merrill  was  born  in  Lebanon,  Hunterdon  Co.,  N.  J.,  8 
Dec.,  1805.     She  has  six  children. | 

Mr.  Merrill  wrote  a  great  number  of  articles  for  the  Ohio 
Temperance  Advocate,  published  at  Columbus.  He  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Ilamline,  afterwards  Bishop  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  were  appointed  corresponding  editors,  by  the  Execu- 
tive Committee  of  the  Ohio  State  Temperance  Society.  The 
resident  editor  was  P.  B.  Wilcox,  Esq.  Mr.  Merrill  was  also 
in  the  habit  of  writing  frequently  for  other  papers,  both  sec- 
ular and  religious.  His  newspaper  articles  were  distingui.shed 
for  a  terse  and  conclusive  style  of  argument  which  is  as  much 
admired  as  it  is  seldom  attained. 

His  published  discourses  were  three,  viz : 

1.  The  "Ox  Sermon,"  (see  hereafter.)  (Serm.  I.  in  this 
A'ol.) 

2.  The  "Mate  to  the  Ox,"  a  sermon  from  1  Tim.  v.  22, 
delivered  before  the  Champaign  Co.  Temperance  Society,  26 
February,  1833.  Very  large  8vo,  Urbana,  0.,  1833,  pp.  8. 
(Serm.  XYL  in  this  Vol.) 

3.  An  Address  before  the  Mechanics'  Institute  and  the 
teachers  and  scholars  of  the  Sabbath  Schools  in  Urbana,  4 
July,  1838.     8vo,  Urbana,  0.,  pp   14. 

The  history  of  the  "Ox  Sermon,"  is  briefly  this.  It  was 
written  for  a  temperance  meeting  in  Urbana,  and  delivered  to 
an  audience  of  less  than  a  hundred  persons.     Its  first  publica- 

ty-five  vear.s ;  in  Urbana,  O..  1815-18 ;  principal  of  Miami  University,  Oxford, 
O.;  till  "his  death,  2  May,  1821. 

*'-  William  Vv^ard,  b.  24  Mar.,  1829;  James,  b.  7  Jan.,  1831;  Marv  Pri-scilla, 
b.  1  Oct.,  1832,  married  to  John  1).  ilock,  Urbana,  O.,  28  Oct.,  1854;  Fidelia 
Boutelle,  b.  12  Aug.,  1834;  3Iary  Amy,  b.  12  May,  1836,  died  28  Sept.,  1836. 
All  born' in  Urbana,  O. 

t  Doctor  lienj.  V.  Hunt  was  born  in  Hunterdon  County,  N".  J.,  9  April, 
1783 ;  ^vas  a  member  of  Jsew  Jer.<^ey  Collej:e,  two  years  ;  read  medicine  with 
Dr.  Canfield,Moiristown,N.  J. ;  attended  lectures  at  rhiladeli)hia:  practiced 
medicine  in  Lebanon,  N.  J.,  till  1818;  resjided  in  Clermont  Co.,  O.,  till  1822; 
in  Clark  Co.,  O.,  till  1835  ;  m  Urbana,  O..  till  1845;  in  Cincinnati,  O.,  till  his 
death,  1  Jan.,  1849. 

t  Elizabeth  Hunt,  b.  6  Aug.,  183S  ;  Sarah  Jane,  b.  18  Feb.,  1840 ;  David,  b. 
24  Nov.,  1841 :  Benjamin  Van  Cleve,  b.  31  July.  1843;  Augusta  Brooks,  b.  10 
Dec,  1846 ;  Mina  Cartharine,  b.  3  July,  1848.  Two  oldest  born  in  Urbana, 
O. ;  the  others  in  Peacham,  Vt. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  17 

tion  was  in  the  Urbana  weekly  paper.  A  copy  of  this  paper, 
sent  to  Samuel  Merrill,  Esq.,  of  Indianapolis,  Ind.,  fell  into 
the  hands  of  John  H.  Farnham,  Esq.,  who  caused  a  pamphlet 
edition  of  500  copies  to  be  printed  at  Salem,  Ind.  Rev.  M. 
H.  Wilder,  a  Tract  Agent,  sent  a  copy  of  this  edition  to  the 
American  Tract  Society,  by  which  it  was  handed  over  to  the 
Temperance  Society.  It  was  then  published  as  the  "  Temper- 
ance Pvecorder,  extra,"  for  circulation  in  every  family  in  the 
United  States.  The  edition  numbered  2,200,000  copies. 
Numerous  editions  have  been  published  since, — one  in  Canada 
East,  of,  I  think,  10,000  copies.  The  American  Tract  Soci- 
ety adopted  it  about  1845,  as  No.  475  of  their  series  of  tracts, 
and  have  published  104,000  copies.  The  Tract  Society  has 
also  published  100,000  copies  of  an  abridgement  of  it,  under 
the  title,  "Is  it  right?"  It  has  been  published  in  many 
newspapers  of  extensive  circulation.  It  is  undoubtedly  safe  to 
say  that  its  circulation  has  been  between  two  and  a  half  and 
three  millions  of  copies.  What  other  Sermon  has  ever  had  a 
circulation  equal  to  this  ? 

A  person  tolerably  well  informed  in  regard  to  the  argu- 
ments used  by  temperance  men  at  the  present  day,  who  reads 
the  Ox  Sermon  for  the  first  time,  will  think  its  positions  and 
illustrations  quite  common-place,  and  wonder  why  any  body 
ever  attributed  to  it  any  originality  or  shrewdness.  But  twen- 
ty-five years  have  wrought  great  changes  in  the  popular  senti- 
ment upon  the  subject  of  temperance,  and  positions,  which  arc 
now  admitted  almost  as  readily  as  the  axioms  in  mathematics, 
when  broached  in  that  sermon  were  regarded  as  "  violently 
new-school,"  "dangerously  radical,"  "impracticably  ultra." 
Whoever  originates  an  idea  which  becomes  influential  over  the 
belief  and  actions  of  men,  commences  a  work  which  will  go  on 
increasing  in  efiiciency  long  after  his  own  generation  shall  have 
passed  away.  The  author  of  the  "  Ox  Sermon,"  even  during 
his  own  .life,  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  many  by 
reading  that  discourse  were  so  convicted  in  their  consciences 
that  even  at  great  pecuniary  sacrifice  they  gave  up  the  trafiic 
in  ardent  spirit,  and  that  many  more  from  being  enemies  or 
lukewarm  friends,  became  earnest  advocates  of  the  temperance 
reformation. 

"  The  Mate  to  the  Ox  "  was  prepared  with  far  greater  care 
than  the  "  Ox  Sermon,"  and  by  their  author  was  considered 
]* 


18  BIOGRAnilCAL    SKETCH. 

much  the  better  of  the  two.     At  tlie  West  it  had  considerable 
circulation,  and  was  very  highly  esteemed. 

Mr.  Merrill  received  to  the  church  393  persons,  of  whom 
89  were  received  by  letter,  leaving  over  300  received  on  pro- 
fession, almost  all  of  whom  were  seals  of  his  own  ministry. 
As  ho  was  in  the  ministry  not  quite  25  years,  the  average 
number  that  ho  received  to  the  churches  annually  was  about 
16.  He  administered  the  ordinance  of  baptism  to  80  adults. 
Of  the  baptisms  of  infants  he  kept  no  record.  He  solemnized 
143  marriages.  He  left  over  650  MS.  sermons,  and  in  addi- 
tion to  these  there  is  an  immense  number  of  skeletons. 

"While  delivering  his  sermons,  Mr.  Merrill  stood  almost  mo- 
tionless and  read  quite  rapidly,  yet  with  great  distinctness,  ut- 
tering each  syllable  so  that  by  itself  it  was  distinctly  heard. 
By  judicious  peculiarities  of  emphasis,  inflection  and  pauses, 
he  made  the  "  same  words  mean  twice  or  thrice  as  much  in  his 
mouth  as  in  that  of  other  men."  His  voice  "was  never  so 
elevated  as  to  be  offensive,  nor  so  low  as  to  be  inaudible." 
His  only  visible  symptom  of  earnestness  was  a  slight,  quick 
motion  of  the  head,  and  a  compression  of  the  lips.  The  chief 
charm  of  his  discourses  lay  not  in  their  delivery,  but  in  their 
admirable  adaptedness  to  the  precise  circumstances  of  his 
hearers,  who  would  often  hear  their  own  very  thoughts  and 
motives  expressed  with  startling  distinctness,  and  brought  un- 
flinchingly to  the  unerring  standard  of  divine  revelation  for  ap- 
proval or  condemnation. 

On  ordinary  occasions  and  common  place  topics  he  was  not 
what  would  be  called  a  sociable  man,  yet,  without  saying  much 
himself,  ho  made  others  (adults)  feel  easy  in  his  presence. 
As  for  personal  conversation  on  religious  subjects,  he  had  less 
confidence  in  his  own  ability,  and  less  satisfaction  in  his  own 
perforfnance,  than  in  any  other  part  of  his  official  duty. 

His  style  of  conversation  and  extemporaneous  speaking  was 
remarkably  laconic, — even  more  so  than  that  of  his  writing. 
Never  tarrying  for  mollifying  modifiers,  he  was  often  exceecl- 
inghj  blunt.  But  he  was  not  offended  by  the  same  plainness 
of  speech  in  others.  In  regard  to  his  own  opinions  and  habits, 
he  was  "armed  so  strong  in  honesty"  of  purpose  and  com- 
pleteness of  conviction,  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  moved  by 
opposition.  As  for  frightening  or  coaxing  him  from  his  posi- 
tion by  a  display  of  mere  authorities,  one  might  as  well  have 


BIOGRAPUICAL    SKETCH.  19 

stopped  the  revolution  of  the  earth  by  reading  to  it  the  decision 
of  the  tribunal  wliich  condemned  Galileo. 

Wit  was  an  integral  part  of  his  original  nature, — not  neces- 
sarily of  the  depraved  part,  either,  we  humbly  opine.  He 
held  that  some  foolish  practices  were  beneath  argument,  and 
against  such  on  proper  occasions  he  would  use  the  keen 
weapons  of  ridicule  with  tremendous  effect.  But  nothino-  like 
levity  was  ever  allowed  to  creep  into  his  Sabbath  performances. 

The  two  last  paragraphs  may  explain  why  strangers  some- 
times supposed  that  he  "  sacrificed  serious  earnestness  to  smart- 
ness." Those  intimately  acquainted  with  him  and  knowino- 
his  utter  abhorrence  of  cant  (i.  e.  assumed  earnestness  or  o-ood- 
nCvSs)  in  every  form,  will  be  surprised  at  the  suggestion  ;  but 
it  should  be  remembered  that  our  first  impressions  of  many 
persons  are  far  from  confirmed  by  subsequent  acquaintance. 

Punctuality  was  among  his  most  prominent  traits  of  charac- 
ter. His  appointments  were  never  made  conditional  on  the 
state  of  the  weather  or  of  his  own  feelings,  and  when  once 
made,  he  never  failed  of  meeting  them.  He  has  been  known 
to  go  considerable  distance  on  foot  to  meet  appointments,  when 
the  traveling  was  so  bad  that  he  could  not  go  safely  with  a 
horse. 

For  a  general  vieio  of  his  character,  we  can  by  no  means 
otherwise  do  at  all  so  well  as  to  employ  the  elegant  language 
of  our  respected  correspondent,  Eev.  A.  0.  Hubbard : 

"  That  Mr.  Merrill  was  a  man  of  no  ordinary  intellectual 
powers,  is  sufficiently  evident  from  what  he  said  and  did,  and 
the  fact  was  felt  by  all  who  had  any  considerable  acquaintance 
with  him.  His  more  prominent  mental  traits  were,  undoubt- 
edly, such  as  comjjrehensiveness,  originality,  energy,  &c. 
Whatever  subjects  he  investigated,  he  took  hold  of  them  with  a 
strong  grasp  ;  he  looked  at  them  in  their  vaiious  relations,  and 
in  a  manner  that  was  peculiarly  his  own.  He  had  a  power  of 
originating  and  combining  ideas,  an  ability  to  elaborate,  as  it 
were,  thoughts  within  himself,  that  reminded  one  of  the  prolific 
and  vigorous  intellects  of  an  earlier  and  more  favored  genera- 
tion. He  had,  too,  a  kind  of  intuitive  perception  of  the  pro- 
priety and  fitness  of  things — of  the  bearing  one  action  has  up- 
on another — of  what  is  adapted  to  affect  men  in  different  cir- 
cumstances. 


20  lUOORArillCAL    SKETCH. -^ 

From  what  lias  been  said,  it  would  naturally  be  inferred  tliat 
Mr.  M.  must  have  excelled  as  a  scholar.  I  am  not  however 
aware  that,  after  he  completed  his  academical  and  theological 
course,  he  directed  his  attention  very  particularly  to  any  one 
branch  of  literature  or  science.  In  respect  to  what  is  called 
literary  taste,  he  was,  it  must  be  admitted,  somewhat  deficient; 
at  least,  if  I  judge  correctly,  he  awis  not  so  much  inclined  to 
look  at  the  minutia!!  either  of  mere  literary  or  scientific  matters, 
as  to  grasp  great  principles.  His  forte  was  less  in  books  than 
in  men.  Even  his  theological  reading  was  not  so  much  exe- 
gctical  as  miscellaneous,  or,  what  might  more  properly  be  called 
philosopliicalhj  practical. 

As  a  preacher  Mr.  Merrill  possessed, *h»  it  appears  to  me, 
considerably  more  than  common  merit.  He  would  not,  per- 
haps, in  the  somewhat  usual  acceptation  of  the  word,  have  been 
called  eloquent.  Plain  as  a  man,  he  was  plain  in  the  pulpit. 
He  used  but  little  action,  and  his  voice,  though  not  unmusical, 
was  hardly  susceptible  of  great  variety  as  to  pitch  and  intona- 
tion. Still,  he  may,  in  the  true  and  proper  meaning  of  the 
term,  have  been  styled  an  eloquent  preacher.  His  was  the 
eloquence  of  solid  thought,  clothed  in  appropriate  language, 
and  uttered  with  a  sincerity,  an  earnestness  that  made  his  hear- 
ers feel.  He  was  moved  himself,  and  he  moved  others.  I 
have  seldom  known  a  speaker  who  would  make  a  more  marked 
impression  on  the  minds  either  of  a  stated  congregation,  or  on 
those  of  a  mixed,  extempore  assembly,  than  would  the  subject 
of  your  notice.  In  debate  he  had  unusual  tact  and  force ;  a 
circumstance  which  is  doubtless  to  be  attributed,  in  part,  to  his 
reliance  upon  his  own  powers,  and  to  a  kind  of  promptness  or 
off-handedness  of  manner — qualities  which  may  have  had  some 
little  connection  with  his  general  influence.  We  remember  the 
sentiment,  "  They  can  excel  because  they  think  they  can." 

In  speaking  of  Mr.  M.  as  a  sermonizer,  I  must  again  refer 
to  his  intellectual  character.  Among  his  mental  traits,  orig- 
inality and  energy  were  mentioned.  How,  amid  numerous 
parochial  duties,  the  cares  of  a  family,  and  '*  that  which  cometh 
from  without,"  he  could  write  so  much  as  he  did,  and  write  it, 
at  least,  so  far  as  the  sentiment  is  concerned,  so  well,  appears 
somewhat  remarkable.  Not  to  mention  quite  a  number  of  mis- 
cellaneous articles,  such  as  essays,  reviews,  &c.,  he  composed 
several  hundreds  of  sermons, — all  of  them,  one  may  suppose, 


^^  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  21 

bearing  marks  of  his  own  vigorous  and  fertile  mind,  and  many 
of  them,  however  void  of  literary  ornament,  being  not  uuwortliy 
of  publication.  Bis  manner  of  sermonizing,  if  he  had  any, 
was  his  own,  and  that  of  no  one  else.  He  "  only  wrote  right 
on."  Sometimes  he  commenced  by  stating  some  truism,  s;ome 
axiom  in  theology  or  morals,  or  by  proving  some  proposition 
which  was  to  be  used  as  a  truth.  This  prepared  the  way  for 
another  ;  that  for  a  third,  and  so  on,  till  near  the  close ;  the 
whole  discourse  growing,  as  it  were,  out  of  itself,  and  present- 
ing a  continuous  chain  of  argument  and  practical  remark.  Of 
this  kind  of  discourse  the  "  Ox  Sermon  "  might  be  cited  as 
something  like  a  specimen.* 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  the  truths  which  Mr. 
M.  investigated  and  uttered  were  incorporated  in  his  own  ex- 
perience, that  they  were  the  food  on  which  he  lived.  If  he 
studied  much,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  also  prayed 
much.  If,  in  his  stated  ministrations,  he  "brought  forth 
things"  that  made  glad  the  hearts  of  the  saints,  and  carried 
terror  to  the  consciences  of  evil  doers,  we  are  permitted  to  ex- 
press the  assurance,  that  much  of  his  ability  to  do  so  was  the 
direct  result  of  "  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One."  And  here 
it  is  proper  to  refer  briefly  to  Mr.  M.'s  Christian  character. 
While  his  piety  was,  as  might  naturally  be  supposed,  rather  of 
the  active  than  of  the  contemplative  kind,  it  was  still  scriptural 
and  deep  seated,  being  alike  removed  from  enthusiasm  on  the 
one  hand,  and  from  coldness  and  formality  on  the  other.  It 
was  not  developed  in  the  same  manner  as  that  of  Payson,  or 
McCheyne,  or  even  that  of  his  predecessor, — for  he  was  as  dif- 
ferent from  either  of  these  individuals  as  they  were  different 
from  one  another.  We  cannot  compare  men  in  their  peculiar 
spiritual  traits  any  more  than  we  can  in  their  physical.  It  was 
manifest  that  Mr.  Id.'s  heart  was  set  on  the  great  object  of 
honoring  God  and  serving  his  generation.  Many  can  bear  wit- 
nes.3  not  only  to  the  intense  interest  whicli  he  felt  in  "  the  per- 
fecting of  the  saints,"  and  the  conversion  of  the  impenitent  in 
his  own  neighborhood,  but  also  to  his  deep  sympathy  with  what- 
ever related  to  the  reformation  of  our  country,  and  the  spread 
of  the  gospel  in  foreign  lands.  "In  doctrine  he  showed  un- 
corruptness,  gravity,  sincerity  ;  "  "he  was  not  self-willed,  not 

*  It  mipfht  be  mentioned  that  the  "  Ox  Sermon  "  is  now  circulated  in  Great 
liritain  along  with  such  books  as  Beecher's  Six  Sermons  on  Intemperance. 


22  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 

soon  an2;ry  ;  "  "  he  ruled  well  liis  own  house  ;  "  "  be  was  a 
lover  of  hospitality  ;  "  "  he  was  an  example  of  the  believers  in 
word,  in  cliarity,  in  spirit,  in  faith,  in  purity." 

The  fact  that  Mr.  M.  was  efficient  and  useful  as  a  ^^ors^or, 
has  been  already  anticipated.  Possessins;,  in  addition  to  the 
traits  that  have  been  specified,  an  affectionate  and  cheerful  dis- 
position, he  was  peculiarly  formed  for  social  intercourse,  and 
he  was  never  more  at  home  than  when  vi.siting  among  his  peo- 
ple. Ho  was  not,  of  course,  a  visiting  minister  in  such  a 
sense  as  to  satisfy  every  vain  and  unreasonable  hearer  ;  had  he 
attem]')ted  to  do  this,  he  must  have  failed,  as  others  have  fiiiled 
before  him.  It  might  be  mentioned  that  he  was  able,  by  his 
frank  and  off-hand  manner,  to  reach  certain  classes  that  are  fre- 
quently— perhaps  too  frequently — regarded  as  inaccessible.  It 
was,  confessedly,  an  exception  to  a  general  principle,  that  he 
should  have  been  called  to  the  ministry  in  his  native  town,  and 
that  among  those  who  had  been  his  playmates  and  schoolmates, 
as  well  as  those  to  whom  he  looked  up  as  fathers  and  mothers 
in  Israel,  he  should  have  moved  with  continued  and  even  in- 
creasing acceptance  and  effect. 

In  sentiment,  Mr.  M.  was  a  moderate  Calvinist, — holding, 
in  its  essential  features,  the  system  of  truth  received  by  the 
primitive  churches  of  New  England.  While  he  had  a  prefer- 
ence for  his  own  and  kindred  denominations,  his  mind  and 
heart  were  too  largo  to  allow  him  to  be  either  a  bigot  or  a  sec- 
tarian. He  loved  the  good  of  every  name,  and  in  few  things 
was  he  more  favored  than  in  securing  the  confidence  and  esteem 
of  those  whose  views  were  different  from  his  own. 

Such,  Dear  Sir,  is  an  outline — an  imperfect  one,  I  am  aware 
— of  the  character  of  Mr.  Merrill.  If  you  ask,  "  Wherein,  in 
my  view,  lay  the  power  by  which  he  exerted  the  influence  he 
did  ?  "  I  could  hardly  answer  the  question  more  definitely  than 
I  have  attempted  to  do  already.  Hoio  an  individual  influences 
others — how  he  directs  and  shapes  the  views  ^not  only  of  his 
more  intimate  associates,  but  of  neighborhoods  and  communi- 
ties, is,  I  apprehend,  a  problem  not  easy  to  be  solved.  We 
know  what  he  does,  but  the  power  by  which  he  does  it — that 
sometldiui  wliich  lies  back  of  what  we  see,  and  hear,  and  feel 
— who  can  investigate  this?  It  might  be  said  or  rather  re- 
peated  here,  that  whatever  Mr.  M.'s  influence  was,  he  never 
sought  to  accomplish  an  object  by  improper  or  doubtful  means. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCU.  23 

He  was  always  open  hearted,  and  to  every  thing  like  craft  or 
crookedness,  whether  in  ecclesiastical,  social,  or  secular  mat- 
ters, he  was  from  his  inmost  soul  opposed.  He  was  too  sincere 
to  deceive,  too  upright  to  temporize.  If  he  had  his  imperfec- 
tions, they  were  such  as  are  inseparable  from  humanity.  It 
appears  to  me  that  his  character,  viewed  as  a  whole,  was  one 
of  peculiar  interest  and  excellence.  While  I  might  have  dif- 
fered from  him  in  respect  to  some  shades  of  Christian  doctrine, 
and  in  regard  to  a  few  other  minor  points  to  which  it  is  un- 
necessary to  refer,  it  yet  occurred  to  me  that  this  very  diversi- 
ty, so  far  from  diminishing,  served  rather  to  increase  the  pleas- 
ure of  an  acquaintance  the  remembrance  of  which  I  shall  cher- 
ish till  the  latest  period  of  my  life.  It  affords  me  unfeigned 
satisfaction  that  I  am  permitted  to  add  my  humble  testimony 
to  the  worth  of  one  whom  I  regarded  as  a  truly  gifted  and  good 
man.  Such  Mr.  M.  undoubtedly  was.  Though  removed  in 
the  midst  of  his  days,  he  left  on  the  community  around  him  an 
impress  that  has  been  left  by  few.  "While  he  still  lives  and 
will  long  live  in  the  hearts  of  many,  it  may  be  that,  out  of  the 
circle  of  his  family  connections,  his  decease  has  been  felt  more 
deeply  by  no  one  than  myself.  "Even  so,  Father,  for  so  it 
seemed  good  in  thy  sight."  Ever  precious  to  me  will  be  the 
dwelling  in  which  I  used  to  meet  his  pleasant  smile,  and  to 
receive  the  cordial  grasp  of  his  hand.  May  the  God  of  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless,  the  God  of  all  grace  and  consolation, 
still  abide  there,  to  sustain,  to  comfort  and  to  bless ! 

Truly  yours, 

A.  0.  Hubbard. 
Mr.  Tnos.  S.  Pearson." 


REV.   D.   MERRILL'S 

S  E  R  M  0  I  S . 


SERMON  I. 

THE    OX    SERMON. 


If  an  ox  gore  a  man  or  a  woman,  that  they  die ;  then  the  ox  shall  be  surely 

stoned ; but  the  owner  of  the  ox  shall  be  quit.    But  if  the 

ox  WERE  WONT  TO  PUSH  with  his  horn  in  time  past,  and  it  hath  been  testified 
to  his  owner,  and  he  hath  not  kept  him  in,  but  that  he  hath  killed  a  man 
or  a  woman,  the  ox  shall  be  stoned,  and  his  owner  also  shall  be  put  to 
death.    Exodus  xxi.  28,  29. 

The  principle  of  this  law  is  all  that  wc  are  concerned  with, 
at  present.  And  it  is  a  very  plain  one — and  a  very  broad 
one — brought  out  here  in  a  specific  case,  but  extending  to  ten 
thousand  others.  It  is  this  :  Every  man  is  responsible  to  God 
for  the  evils  which  result  from  his  selfishness,  or  his  indiffer- 
ence to  the  welfare  of  others. 

"If  an  ox  gore  a  man  or  a  woman,  that  they  die,  then  the 
ox  shall  be  surely  stoned,  but  the  owner  of  the  ox  shall  be 
quit."  The  design  in  stoning  the  ox,  was  to  produce  an  effect 
upon  men — to  show  them  how  highly  the  lawgiver  valued 
human  life.  The  very  beast  that  destroyed  it  shall  be  cast 
forth  as  an  abomination. 

God  says  to  Noah  :  **  Your  blood  of  your  lives  will  I  re- 
quire :  at  the  hand  of  every  beast  will  I  require  it,  and  at  the 
2 


14  REY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

hand  of  man."  A  stigma  shall  be  fixed  upon  man  or  beast 
that  shall  destroy  him  who  is  made  after  the  similitude  of  God. 
But  why  is  the  owner  in  this  case  quit,  or  guiltless  ?  Simply 
because  the  death  is  not  in  any  way  the  result  of  his  careless- 
ness, or  of  his  selfishness.  From  any  thing  within  his  knowl- 
edge, he  had  no  reason  to  expect  such  a  result.  13ut  if  the  ox 
hath  been  wont  to  push  with  his  horns,  and  he  knew  it,  he  shall 
be  responsible  for  the  consequences,  whatever  they  may  be ; 
for  he  had  every  reason  to  expect  that  mischief  would  be  done, 
and  took  no  measures  to  prevent  it.  And  if  the  ox  kill  a  man 
or  woman,  the  owner  hath  done  the  murder — he  shall  be  put 
to  deatii.  Why?  The  death  was  the  result  of  his  selfishness, 
or  of  his  indifference  to  the  lives  of  others.  And  according  to 
the  law  of  God,  his  life  shall  go  for  it.  The  principle  of  this 
law,  is  a  principle  of  common  sense. 

You  see  a  fellow  creature  struggling  in  the  water.  You 
know  that  he  can  never  deliver  himself.  And  you  know  that 
a  very  little  assistance,  such  as  you  can  render,  will  rescue  him 
from  a  watery  grave.  You  look  on  and  pass  by.  True,  you 
did  not  thrust  him  in ;  but  he  dies  by  your  neglect.  His 
blood  will  be  upon  your  head.  At  the  bar  of  God,  and  at  the 
bar  of  conscience,  you  are  his  murderer.  Why  ?  You  did 
not  kill  him.  Neither  did  the  owner  of  the  ox  lift  a  hand. 
JBiit  he  shall  surely  he  put  to  death.  You  had  no  malice  ;  nei- 
ther had  he.  You  did  not  intend  his  deatli.  At  the  very 
worst,  you  did  not  care.  This  is  just  his  crime  ;  he  did  not 
care.  He  turned  loose  a  wild,  fiery,  ill-tempered,  ungoverna- 
ble animal,  knowing  him  to  be  such ;  and  what  mischief  that 
animal  might  do,  or  what  suffering  he  might  cause,  he  did  not 
care.     But  God  held  him  responsible. 

Take  another  case  upon  the  same  principle.     Your  dog  has 


THE    OX    SERMON.  15 

gone  mad.  You  hate  to  kill  him,  for  he  has  or  had  some  good 
qualities.  You  hate  to  tie  him  up,  for  it  is  too  much  trouble  ; 
and  you  hate,  worst  of  all,  to  believe  that  he  is  mad.  It  has 
been  testified  to  you  that  many  have  died  of  his  bite,  already 
raving  mad  ;  and  that  many  more,  in  different  stages  of  the 
disease,  are  coming  to  the  same  miserable  death.  But  still 
you  will  neither  shoot  nor  shut  up  the  cause  of  this  wretched- 
ness. You  affect  to  doubt  whether  any  one  of  them  had  the 
real  hydrophobia,  or  whether  the  bite  will  produce  the  same 
effects  again,  and  so  you  leave  him  loose  among  your  neighbors 
and  your  neighbors'  children.  Is  it  not  a  dictate  of  common 
sense  that  you  ought  to  be  responsible  for  the  result?  And 
you  are.  All  that  perish  by  means  of  this  animal,  are  virtu- 
ally slain  by  your  hand.  They  owe  their  death  to  your  care- 
lessness, or  your  selfishness,  and  it  is  in  vain  for  you  to  say, — 
I  had  no  malice,  I  did  7iot  set  the  dog  on — they  might  have 
kept  out  of  the  way ;  and  if  he  was  mad,  it  was  none  of  my 
concern — let  every  one  look  out  for  himself.  Would  not  this 
be  adding  insult  to  injury  ?  and,  instead  of  proving  your  inno- 
cence, prove  you  a  wretch,  past  feeling  ? 

But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  object  of  this  address  'i 
Much,  every  way.  We  wish  to  act  upon  established  princi- 
ples. We  have  endeavored  to  establish  one  principle,  viz., 
that  every  man  is  responsible  for  evils  which  result  from  his 
own  selfishness,  or  indifference  to  the  lives  of  men.  In  other 
words, — to  make  a  man  responsible  for  results,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  prove  that  he  has  malice,  or  that  he  intended  the  re- 
sults. The  highwayman  has  no  malice  against  him  he  robs  and 
murders  ;  nor  does  he  desire  his  death,  but  his  money ;  and  if 
he  can  get  the  money,  he  does  not  care.  And  he  robs  and 
murders  because  he  loves  himself,  and  does  not  care  for  oth- 


IG  KEv.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

ers, — acting  in  a  different  way,  but  on  the  same  selfish  princi- 
ple with  the  owner  of  the  ox,  and  of  the  mad  dog ;  and  on  the 
very  same  principle  is  held  responsible. 

In  the  trial  of  the  owner  of  the  ox,  the  only  questions  to  be 
asked,  were  these  two.  Was  the  ox  loont  to  push  with  his 
horn  in  time  past  ?  Did  the  oioner  hioiv  it,  when  he  let  him 
loose  ?  If  both  these  questions  were  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, the  owner  was  responsible  for  all  the  consequences.  This 
is  a  rule  which  God  himself  has  established ;  and  it  applies  di- 
rectly to  the  object  of  this  address. 

Let  us  consider, — 

I.  Is  ardent  spirit  wont  to  produce  misery,  and 
wretchedness,  and  death? 

II.  Has  this  been  testified  to  those  who  deal  in 
IT,  i.  e.,  makers  and  retailers? 

If  these  two  things  can  be  established,  the  inference  is  inev- 
itable— they  are  responsible,  on  a  principle  perfectly  intelligi- 
ble,— a  principle  recognized  and  proclaimed  and  acted  upon  by 
God  himself.  It  is  possible  that  some  may  startle  at  this  con- 
clusion, and  look  around  for  some  way  to  escape  it.  What ! 
is  a  man  responsible  to  God  for  the  effects  produced  by  all  the 
spirit  which  he  makes  and  sells  ?  This  is  a  most  fearful  re- 
sponsibility. Indeed  it  is.  But  if  these  two  things  are  true, 
every  retailer  and  maker  must  bear  it.  And  can  either  of 
these  be  disputed  ? 

Upon  the  first  2^oint,\(ii  mQ  refresh  your  recollection,  and 
bring  vividly  before  you,  the  hopes  which  ardent  spirit  has 
blasted,  and  the  tears  it  has  caused  to  flow.  Most  of  us  can 
remember  many  a  shocking  scene  which  spirit  has  produced. 
Let  any  one  of  us  sit  down  and  count  up  the  number  of  its 
victims  which  we  have  known — consider  their  character  and 


THE    OX    SERMON.  17 

standing  in  society,  their  prospects  and  liappy  families,  and 
what  a  change  a  few  years'  use  of  ardent  spirit  has  caused, 
and  what  they  and  their  families  are  now.  What  a  catalogue 
of  wretchedness  might  any  one  of  us  make  out.  Very  few 
but  could  remember  twenty,  thirty,  fifty,  or  one  hundred  fami- 
lies ruined  in  this  way — some  of  them  once  our  most  intimate 
friends ;  and  their  story  is  soon  told. 

They  were  once  promising — excited  high  expectations — were 
high  spirited — despised  every  thing  mean,  and  had  a  special 
contempt  for  a  drunkard ;  and  had  a  prophet  proclaimed  that 
they  themselves  should  be  all  that  they  despised,  they  would 
have  repelled  it  as  a  thing  impossible.  "Is  thy  servant  a 
dog,"  as  said  Hazael,  "that  he  should  do  this  thing?"  But 
they  could  drink  occasionally,  just  for  a  spree,  for  the  sake  of 
company.  In  this  way  the  taste  was  acquired,  and  habits  of 
dissipation  formed.  They  became  idle,  and  of  course  uneasy  ; 
and  they  drank,  partly  to  gratify  taste,  and  partly  to  quiet  con- 
science. They  saw  that  the  tide  was  coming  in  upon  them, 
and  for  a  time,  perhaps,  made  some  earnest  but  irregular  strug- 
gles against  it.  But  it  gained  upon  them.  Every  flow  of  the 
tide  drove  in  some  barrier — the  resistance  became  weaker  and 
weaker — by  and  by  the  struggle  is  ended,  and  they  float  with 
the  current.  And  where  are  they  ?  One  has  been  found  by 
the  temperance  reformation,  a  mere  wreck — in  property,  char- 
acter, body  and  mind,  a  mere  wreck — and,  0  miracle  !  reclaim- 
ed. After  years  of  dissipation,  after  causing  unspeakable 
misery,  he  is  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire.  Another  is  dead  :  his 
constitution  could  not  bear  such  a  continued  course  of  dis- 
sipation. Another  died  in  a  fit.  Another  was  found  by  the 
road-side,  one  cold  morning,  a  stiffened  corpse.  Another  was 
thrown  from  his  horse,  and  is  a  cripple  for  life ;  but  still  can 
2* 


18  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

contrive  means  to  pay  a  daily  visit  to  the  grocery.  Another  is 
a  mere  vagabond,  unprincipled  and  shameless — wandering  from 
grocery  to  grocery — fit  companion  for  the  lowest  company, — 
drinking  upon  their  bounty,  yea,  drinking  their  leavings,  the 
mere  rinsings  of  the  glasses — a  nuisance  to  society,  and  a  curse 
to  his  kindred.  Another  is  in  the  penitentiary,  for  a  crime 
which  he  committed  in  a  drunken  frolic. 

Go  into  the  crowded  court-house,  and  you  may  see  another ; 
his  countenance  haggard  and  ghastly,  and  his  eye  wildly  rolling 
in  despair.  What  has  he  done  ?  One  night  after  spending  all 
his  money  for  drink,  and  loitering  about  till  all  the  shops  were 
closed,  he  returned  to  his  miserable  habitation.  He  found  a 
few  coals  on  the  hearth,  and  his  wife  and  children  sitting  by 
them.  He  threw  one  child  this  way,  and  another  that,  for  he 
was  cold.  His  wife  remonstrated,  and  withal  told  him  that 
what  little  fire  there  was,  was  none  of  his  providing.  With 
many  a  horrid  oath  he  declared  he  would  not  be  scolded  after 
that  sort.  He  would  let  her  know  who  should  govern,  and  by 
way  of  supporting  his  authority,  beat  her  brains  out  with  the 
last  remaining  stick  of  wood.  He  did  not  mean  to  kill  her. 
Her  dying  struggles  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  he  stood 
horror-struck.  He  would  give  almost  any  thing  that  the  deed 
were  not  done.  If  that  could  restore  her  to  life,  he  would  be 
almost  ready  to  give  a  pledge  never  to  taste  ardent  spirit  again. 
Now  look  at  the  wretchedness  of  this  family.  For  years  he 
has  made  very  little  provision  for  them ;  for  they  have  lived  as 
they  could,' half  naked  and  half  starved,  and  not  educated  at 
all — with  a  most  wretched  example  before  their  eyes.  What 
encouragement  had  the  wife  and  children  to  attempt  any  thing 
— to  make  any  exertion.  The  children  are  abused  and  tram- 
pled on  at  home,  and  they  grow  up  without  self-respect,  with- 


THE    OX    SERMON.  19 

out  shame  and  without  principle.  Can  any  thing  respectable 
be  expected  of  them  ?  And  if  they  do  rise,  it  must  be  through 
a  world  of  difficulty. 

How  many  thousand  families  have  been  ruined  in  some  such 
way  as  this  !  The  father  was  a  drunkard,  and  the  mother — 
what  could  she  do  ?  She  endured,  hoping  against  hope ;  and 
for  the  children's  sake  bore  up  against  the  current,  and  many  a 
time  disguised  a  sad,  despairing  heart  under  a  joyful  counte- 
nance, till  at  length  she  died  of  a  broken  heart ;  or  died  at  the 
hands  of  him  who  had  sworn  to  protect  her  ! 

These,  and  things  like  these,  are  the  effects  of  ardent  spirit — 
not  casual,  accidental,  but  common,  natural  effects,  seen  every 
where,  in  every  town,  in  every  neighborhood,  and  in  every 
connection.  Look  which  way  we  will,  we  see  some  of  these 
effects.  The  greatest  wretchedness  which  human  nature  in  this 
world  is  called  to  endure,  is  connected  with  the  use  of  ardent 
spirit.  There  is  nothing  else  that  degrades  and  debases  man 
like  it — nothing  so  mean  that  a  drunkard  will  not  stoop  to  it — 
nothing  too  base  for  him  to  do,  to  obtain  his  favorite  drink. 
Nothing  else  so  sinks  the  whole  man — so  completely  destroys, 
not  only  all  moral  principle,  but  all  self-respect,  all  regard  to 
character,  all  shame,  all  human  feeling.  The  drunkard  can 
break  out  from  every  kind  of  endearing  connection,  and  break 
over  every  kind  of  restraint ;  so  completely  extinct  is  human 
feeling,  that  he  can  be  drunk  at  the  funeral  of  his  dearest  rela- 
tive, and  call  for  drink  in  the  last  accents  of  expiring  nature. 

Now  look  at  a  human  being,  whom  God  has  made  for  noble 
purposes,  and  endowed  with  noble  faculties,  degi-aded,  disgrac- 
ed, polluted,  unfit  for  heaven,  and  a  nuisance  on  earth.  He 
is  the  centre  of  a  circle.  Count  up  his  influence  in  his  fam- 
ily and  his  neighborhood — the  wretchedness  he  endures,  the 


20  EEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

wretchedness  he  causes — count  up  the  tears  of  a  wretched  wife, 
who  curses  the  day  of  her  espousals,  and  of  wretched  chiklren 
who  curse  the  day  of  then*  birth.  To  all  this  positive  evil 
which  ardent  spirit  has  caused,  add  the  happiness  which,  but 
for  it,  this  family  might  have  enjoyed  and  communicated.  Go 
through  a  neighborhood  or  a  town  in  this  way,  count  up  all  the 
misery  which  follows  in  the  train  of  ardent  spirit,  and  you  will 
be  ready  to  ask, — Can  the  regions  of  eternal  death  send  forth 
any  thing  more  deadly  ?  Wherever  it  goes,  the  same  cry  may 
be  heard — lamentation  and  mourning  and  woe ;  and  whatsoever 
things  are  pure,  or  lovely,  or  venerable,  or  of  good  report,  fall 
before  it.  These  are  the  effects — and  I  need  not  say  more 
upon  this  point.  Can  any  man  deny  that  "  the  ox  is  wont  to 
push  with  the  horns?" 

II.  Hath  this  been  testified  to  the  owner? — or,  are  the 
makers  and  retailers  aware  of  its  effects?  The  effects  are  man- 
ifest ;  and  they  have  eyes,  ears  and  understandings,  as  well  as 
others.  They  know  that  whatever  profit  they  make,  is  at  the 
expense  of  human  life  or  comfort ;  and  that  the  tide  which  is 
swelled  by  their  unhallowed  merchandize,  sweeps  ten  thousand 
yearly  to  temporal  and  eternal  ruin.  But  this  is  not  all.  The 
attention  of  the  public  has  of  late  been  strongly  turned  to  this 
subject.  The  minds  of  men  have  been  enlightened,  and  their 
responsibility  pressed  home  upon  them.  The  subject  has  been 
presented  to  them  in  a  new  light,  and  men  cannot  but  see  the 
absurdity  of  reprobating  the  tempted,  while  the  tempter  is  hon- 
ored— of  blaming  drunkards,  and  holding  in  reputation  those 
whose  business  it  is  to  make  drunkards.  But  are  the  makers 
of  ardent  spirit  aware  of  its  effects  ?  Look  at  the  neighbor- 
hood of  a  distillery.  An  influence  goes  forth  4rom  that  spot 
which  reaches  miles  around — a  kind  of  constraining  influence, 


THE    OX    SERMON.  21 

that  brings  in  the  poor  and  the  •wretched,  and  thirsty,  and 
vicious.  Those  who  have  money,  bring  it — those  "who  have 
none,  bring  corn — those  who  have  neither,  bring  household  fur- 
niture— those  who  have  nothing,  bring  themselves,  and  pay  in 
labor.  Now,  the  maker  knows  all  these  men,  and  knows  their 
temperament,  and  probably  knows  their  families.  He  can  cal- 
culate effects ;  and  he  sends  them  off,  one  to  die  by  the  way, 
another  to  abuse  his  family,  and  others  just  ready  for  any  deed 
of  wickedness.  Will  he  say  that  he  is  not  responsible,  and, 
like  Cain,  ask,  *'Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ?  "  He  knew  what 
might  be  the  result,  and  for  a  mere  pittance  of  gain,  was  wil- 
ling to  risk  it.  Whether  this  man  should  abuse  his  family,  or 
that  man  die  by  the  way,  so  his  purpose  was  answered,  he  did 
not  care.  The  ox  was  wont  to  push  with  his  horn,  and  he 
knew  it :  and  for  a  little  paltry  gain  he  let  him  loose ;  and  God 
will  support  his  law  in  all  its  extent,  by  holding  him  responsi- 
ble for  all  the  consequences. 

But  a  common  excuse  is,  that  **  very  little  of  our  manufac- 
ture is  used  in  the  neighborhood ;  we  send  it  off."  Are  its  ef- 
fects any  less  deadly  ?  In  this  way  you  avoid  seeing  the  effects, 
and  poison  strangers  instead  of  neighbors.  What  would  you 
say  to  a  man  who  traded  in  clothes,  infected  with  the  small 
pox,  or  cholera,  and  who  should  say,  by  way  of  apology,  that 
he  sent  them  off — he  did  not  sell  any  in  the  neighborhood. 
Good  man  I  he  is  willing  to  send  disease  and  death  all  abroad  ! 
but  he  is  too  kind-hearted  to  expose  his  neighbors.  Would 
you  not  say  to  him, — you  may  send  them  off,  but  you  cannot 
send  off  the  responsibility.  The  eye  of  God  goes  with  them, 
and  all  the  misery  which  they  cause  will  be  charged  to  you. 
So  we  say  to  the  man  who  sends  his  spirit  off. 

•'  But  if  I  do  not  make  it,  somebody  else  will.''     What  sin 


22  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

or  crime  cannot  be  excused  in  this  way  ?  I  know  of  a  plot  to 
rob  my  neighbor ;  if  I  do  not  go  and  plunder  him,  somebody  else 
will.  Is  it  a  privilege  to  bear  the  responsibility  of  sending 
abroad  pestilence,  and  misery,  and  death?  "Our  cause  is  go- 
ing down,"  said  Judas,  "  and  a  price  is  set  upon  the  head  of 
our  master ;  and  if  I  do  not  betray  him,  somebody  else  will. 
And  why  may  not  I  as  well  pocket  the  money  as  another?  " 
If  you  consider  it  a  privilege  to  pocket  the  wages  of  unrigt- 
eousness,  do  so.  But  do  not  pretend  to  be  the  friend  of  God 
or  man,  while  you  count  it  a  privilege  to  insult  the  one  and 
ruin  the  other. 

This  is  the  most  common  excuse  for  retailing.  "  I  wish  it 
were  banished  from  the  earth.  But  then  what  can  I  do?" 
What  can  you  do  ?  You  can  keep  one  man  clear ;  you  can 
wash  your  hands  of  this  wretched  business.  And  if  you  are 
not  wilhng  to  do  that,  very  little  reliance  can  be  placed  on  your 
good  wishes.  He  that  is  unjust  in  the  least,  is  unjust  also  in 
much.  I  can  hardly  conceive  any  thing  more  inconsistent  with 
every  generous  feeling,  every  noble  principle,  than  retailing 
ardent  spirit  at  the  present  day.  The  days  of  ignorance  on 
this  subject  have  passed  by ;  every  man  acts  with  his  eyes 
open.  Look  at  the  shop  and  company  of  the  retailer.  His 
principal  furniture  is  a  barrel,  two  or  three  bottles,  and  a  half 
dozen  glasses.  He  has  a  few  other  things,  just  for  a  show, — 
brooms,  earthen-ware,  tobacco,  &c.  The  inventory  is  soon 
made.  I  say  he  has  a  few  other  things,  for  even  he  is  ashamed 
to  appear  as  a  dealer  in  spirit  only.  His  shop  needs  no  sign — 
every  drunkard  knows  it  as  it  were  by  instinct.  And  even  the 
the  blind  might  discover  it  by  infallible  tokens,  and  the  compa- 
ny is  a  combination  of  all  the  shameless  and  abandoned.  And 
there  stands  the  retailer  in  the  midst  of  dissipation,  and  human 


THE    OX    SERMON.  23 

nature,  in  its  last  stages  of  eartUy  wretchedness,  in  all  its  de- 
graded forms  and  filthy  appearances,  surrounding  him.  And 
his  whole  business  is  to  kindle  strife,  to  encourage  profanity,  to 
excite  every  evil  passion,  to  destroy  all  salutary  fears,  to  re- 
move every  restraint,  and  to  produce  a  recklessness  that  re- 
gards neither  God  nor  man.  And  how  often  in  the  providence 
of  God  is  he  given  over  to  drink  his  own  poison,  and  to  be- 
come the  most  wretched  of  this  wretched  company.  Who  can 
behold  an  instance  of  this  kind  without  feeling  that  God  is  just 
to  him.  "  He  sunk  down  into  the  pit  which  he  made,  in  the 
net  which  he  hid  is  his  own  foot  taken."  When  we  think  of  the 
years  he  has  spent  in  this  service,  the  quantity  he  has  scattered 
abroad,  and  the  misery  he  has  caused,  who  can  calculate  the 
responsibility?  And  who  would  envy  him,  even  though  he 
had  accumulated  a  fortune  ;  or  who  would  take  his  gains,  bur- 
dened with  all  this  responsibility  ? 

But  some  one  will  say,  I  neither  make  nor  sell  it.  But  you 
drink  it  occasionally,  and  your  example  goes  to  support  the  use 
of  it.  You  see  its  tremendous  effects,  and  yet  you  receive  it 
into  your  house,  and  bid  it  God-speed,  As  far  as  your  influ- 
ence supports  it  and  gives  it  currency,  so  far  are  you  a  partak- 
er of  its  evil  deeds.  If  you  lend  your  influence  to  make  the 
path  of  ruin  respectable,  or  will  not  help  to  affix  disgrace  to 
that  path,  God  will  not  hold  you  guiltless.  You  cannot  inno- 
cently stand  aside  and  do  nothing.  A  deadly  poison  is  circu- 
lating over  the  land,  carrying  disease,  and  desolation,  and  death 
in  its  course.  The  alarm  has  been  given  ;  a  hue  and  cry  has 
been  raised  against  it.  Its  deadly  effects  have  been  described, 
seen  and  felt.  Its  victims  are  of  every  class ;  and  however 
wide  the  difference  in  fortune,  education,  intellect,  it  brings 
them  to  the  same  dead  level.     An  effort  has  been  made  to  stay 


Zi  REV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 

the  plague,  and  a  success  surpassing  all  expectations  has  crown- 
ed the  effort.  Still  the  plague  rages  to  an  immense  extent. 
"What  will  every  good  citizen  do  ?  Will  he  not  clear  his  house, 
his  shop,  his  premises  of  it?  Will  he  not  take  every  precau- 
tion to  defend  himself  against  it,  and  use  his  influence  and  his 
exertions  to  diminish  its  circulation,  and  thus  diminish  human 
misery  V  If  he  fears  God,  or  regards  man,  can  he  stop  short 
of  this  ?  Can  he,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  selfishness,  stand  up 
and  say,  "  I'll  make  no  promises — I'll  not  be  bound — I  am  in 
no  danger?"  If  he  can  say  this,  and  stand  aloof,  shall  we 
count  him  a  good  citizen  ?  I  speak  as  unto  wise  men  ;  judge 
ye  what  I  say. 


SERMON  II. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE,  A  DUTY. 


Remember  now,  O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  how  I  have  walked  before  thee  in 
truth,  and  Avith  a  perfect  heart,  and  have  done  that  which  is  good  in  thy 
sight.    And  Hezekiah  wept  sore.    Isal\h  xxxviii.  3. 

Hezekiah  was  not  -willmg  to  die  even  when  a  message  came 
to  him  from  the  Lord,  saying,  "Set  thy  house  in  order,  for 
thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live."  The  message  was  in  form  abso- 
lute and  unchangable, — "  Thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live."  But 
then,  he  did  not  so  understand  it,  and  the  result  shows  that  it 
was  not  designed  to  be  thus  understood.  It  was  no  more,  in 
fact,  than  that  his  disease  in  its  own  nature  was  mortal,  and  of 
itself  must  terminate  fatally.  Whether  God  would  interfere 
and  arrest  the  disease,  and  restore  him  to  health,  was  another 
matter  entirely.  This  question  he  had  no  means  of  deciding 
with  absolute  certainty.  He  knew  that  diseases  were  under 
the  control  of  Him  that  sent  them — that  they  went  and  came 
at  His  bidding,  and  that  nothing  was  too  hard  for  the  Lord. 
There  was  a  natural  desire  to  live,  and  in  this  case  special  rea- 
sons to  confirm  and  increase  that  desire.  The  possibility  of 
restored  health  and  contmued  life,  laid  the  foundation  of  hope. 
For,  in  the  uncertainty,  he  hoped  the  best — viewed  the  bright 
rather  than  the  dark  side,  and  thought  more  of  the  power 
of  God,  than  the  power  of  the  disease.  And  hope  encourag- 
ed prayer.  God  had  given  him  life,  and  that  life  still  re- 
mained ;  and  it  was  his  business  to  live  while  God  should  let 
him  live,  and  to  use  all  appropriate  means  to  that  effect ;  and 


26  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

the  appropriate  means,  in  his  case,  were  prayers  and  tears. 
And  there  was  no  submission  to  death,  or  giving  up  to  die, 
while  there  was  a  possibility  of  life.  His  life  was  given  him 
in  charge  to  keep,  and  he  was  anxious  to  keep  it,  and  used  all 
appropriate  means  to  keep  it,  till  he  who  gave  it  should  recall 
the  gift.  He  was  not  sick  of  life,  and  therefore  anxious  to 
throw  off  its  duties,  and  burdens,  and  responsibilities.  Nor 
was  he  so  charmed  by  that  which  comes  after,  as  to  make  this 
world  seem  a  fleeting  show,  or  a  dreary  wilderness.  His  de- 
sire and  prayer  to  God  was,  that  he  might  live.  But  was  not 
this  his  weakness  and  inj&rmity,  and  so  recorded  for  our  warn- 
ing and  not  for  our  example  ?  This  certainly  is  an  important 
question,  and  deserves  careful  consideration ;  for  even  the 
pious  have  not  always  done  or  felt  right,  nor  is  it  safe  in  all 
cases  to  imitate  their  example — to  do  or  feel  as  they  have  done 
or  felt.  Job  was  a  pious  man,  and  yet  he  had  an  over-anxiety 
to  die  ;  and  Hezekiah  was  a  pious  man,  and  why  might  he  not 
have  had  an  over-anxiety  to  live  ?  Mere  human  nature  cer- 
tainly is  capable  of  both  these  extremes,  and  the  latter,  per- 
haps, is  far  more  common  than  the  former.  Was  this  desire 
to  live  his  infirmity  and  weakness,  or  was  it  right  in  the  sight 
of  God — such  as  God  approved  ?  This  question  must  be  de- 
termined by  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  viz.,  liis  prayer  and 
the  answer  to  his  prayer. 

His  prayer  was  founded  upon  the  fact  that  he  had  employed 
life  in  the  service  of  God,  and  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow-men. 
"  Remember  now,  0  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  how  I  have  walked 
before  thee  in  truth  and  with  a  perfect  heart,, and  have  done 
that  which  is  good  in  thy  sight."  He  does  not  build  upon 
this  as  his  righteousness,  by  which  he  is  to  be  justified  before 
God,  but  pleads  it  as  an  evidence  of  his  interest  in  the  great 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A   DUTY.  27 

salvation.  He  does  not  demand  life  as  a  reward  for  his  ser- 
vices, but  yet  in  bis  extremity  pleads  a  gracious  remembrance 
of  these  services.  He  bad  reformed  the  kingdom,  taken  away 
the  high  places,  cleansed  the  temple,  and  revived  neglected 
ordinances,  and  what  was  better  than  all  burnt  oJfFerings  and 
sacrifices,  he  had  approved  himself  to  God  with  a  single  eye 
and  an  honest  heart ;  not  only  in  these  outward  things,  but  in 
a  regular  course  of  holy  living.  I  have  walked  before  thee  in 
truth  and  sincerity,  and  with  a  perfect  and  upright  heart — for 
uprightness  is  a  perfection,  the  only  perfection  man  knows  on 
earth — and  have  done  that  which  is  good  in  thy  sight. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  his  plea  was  founded  upon  what 
he  had  been  and  had  done,  and  not,  as  is  too  often  the  case, 
upon  what  he  intended  to  be  or  to  do.  He  avows  no  inten- 
tions, makes  no  promises  for  the  future.  He  leaves  that  whole 
matter  to  be  inferred  or  supplied.  There  is  a  kind  of  con- 
sistency in  all  beings,  and  it  might  be  expected  that  he  who 
had  walked  in  truth  and  done  right  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord, 
if  life  were  spared,  would  still  do  so.  The  answer  to  his  peti- 
tion surely  would  not  make  him  less  a  friend  of  God,  or  less 
devoted  to  his  service.  His  first  instance  of  loving  kindness 
would  be  a  new  incentive  to  holiness  of  heart  and  purity  of 
life ;  a  new  inducement  to  serve  his  generation  according  to 
the  will  of  God.  But  he  makes  no  mention  of  this.  His  plea 
is  founded,  not  upon  fair  promises  and  good  intentions,  but 
upon  a  heart  upright  and  good  already  done  ;  upon  what  tvas, 
and  not  upon  what  was  to  he.  And  the  Lord  hearkened  and 
beard  him,  and  thus  confirmed  the  truth  of  his  plea  ;  and  the 
same  prophet  that  was  sent  with  a  warning  to  prepare  for 
death,  was  sent  with  the  promise  of  recovery.  "  I  have  heard 
thy  prayer,  I  have  seen  thy  tears  ;  behold,  I  will  add  unto  thy 


28  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

days  fifteen  years."  His  anxiety  to  live,  then,  was  not  his  in- 
firmity or  weakness.  It  was  the  legitimate  product  of  his  piety. 
God  approved  it,  and  gave  him  his  desire  ;  and  the  granting 
the  request  was  a  token  of  divine  approbation.  Indeed  we 
may  say,  perhaps,  that  the  whole  object  of  tliis  visitation  was 
to  bring  out  the  real  spirit  of  the  man — the  right  spirit  that 
possessed  him.  Therefore  a  disease,  in  its  own  nature  mortal, 
and  a  warning  to  set  his  house  in  order,  was  sent.  Did  he 
value  life  so  little  that  he  could  give  it  up  without  a  struggle  ? 
Did  he  dread  pain  so  much  that  he  could  seek  a  shelter  from 
it  even  in  the  grave  ?  And  to  make  the  trial  complete,  death 
must  be  brought  very  near  and  all  hope  of  averting  it  removed, 
except  from  the  interposition  of  God.  To  say  that  he  might 
die,  would  not  answer  the  purpose  ;  for  that,  as  far  as  any  one 
can  know,  may  be  true  of  any  man  at  any  time.  The  whole 
circumstances  must  be  such  that  he  shall  be  made  to  see  that 
death  is  near,  even  at  the  door.  And  to  make  the  trial  com- 
plete, a  prophet  announces  from  the  Lord,  "  Thou  shalt  die, 
and  not  live."  He  has  the  full  possession  of  his  powers,  for 
all  this  has  come  suddenly,  and  not  by  lingering  disease. 
Now,  what  are  his  feelings  ?  What  is  his  heart's  desire  ?  It 
is  to  live.  But  why?  Is  he  not  prepared  to  die  ?  There  is 
no  question  of  that — he  had  no  question  of  it.  "I  have  walked 
before  thee  in  truth  and  with  a  perfect  heart,  and  have  done 
that  which  is  good  in  thy  sight."  "Why  not  willing  to  die, 
then  ?  Is  he  afraid  of  death  ?  He  had  no  cause  to  fear  it — 
there  is  not  a  particle  of  evidence  that  he  did  fear  it.  Has  not 
God  said,  "  Thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live,"  and  ought  he  not 
to  submit  to  the  will  of  God  ?  And  has  not  God  said,  "  The 
soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die,"  and  ought  not  every  soul  that 
has   sinned   to   submit   to   everlasting   death  ?     The   saying, 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A   BUTY.  29 

**  Thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live,"  showed  the  natural  result  of  the 
mortal  disease  ;  as  the  saying,  "The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall 
die,"  shows  the  natural  result  of  sin  ;  for  "  the  wages  of  sin 
is  death."  But  the  latter  does  not  make  the  death  of  the  sin- 
ner inevitable ;  there  is  a  condition,  often  expressed  and  al- 
ways implied,  and  millions  who  have  sinned  have  been  saved 
from  that  threatened  death.  So  in  this  case.  The  declara- 
tion, "  Thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live,"  though  in  form  absolute, 
was  not  so  in  fact.  To  the  question,  Ought  he  not  to  submit 
to  the  will  of  God,  and  die  ?  it  may  be  answered,  he  does  not 
know  that  his  death  of  this  disease  is  the  will  of  God,  and  he 
has  no  means  of  knowing  it.  God  is  able  to  restore  him.  The 
very  language  that  announces  his  death,  implies  a  condition. 
At  least,  so  he  understood  it ;  and  the  result  showed  that  it 
was  designed  to  be  thus  understood.  There  was  then  ground 
of  hope,  and  hope  inspired  the  prayer.  But  what  if  he  had 
not  prayed  ?  Wliat  if  he  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  it  was 
the  will  of  God  that  he  should  die,  and  so  just  resigned  himself 
to  death  ?  Why,  he  would  have  died.  Just  as  in  this  case  : 
Two  of  the  disciples  were  going  to  a  village  called  Emmaus, 
and  Jesus  drew  near  and  went  with  them.  But  when  they 
drew  near  to  Emmaus  he  made  as  though  he  would  have  gone 
farther.  "  But  they  constrained  him,  saying,  abide  with  us  ; 
for  it  is  toward  evening,  and  the  day  is  far  spent.  And  he 
went  in  to  tarry  with  them."  Now,  what  if  they  had  not  in- 
vited him?  He  would  have  gone  farther.  He  would  not 
thrust  himself  upon  them,  but  gave  them  an  opportunity  to  in- 
vite him ;  and  while  it  was  proper  and  right  to  give  them  his 
company  and  share  their  hospitality,  upon  invitation,  it  was 
neither,  without  it.  So  it  was  proper  and  right  to  give  Heze- 
kiah  restored  health  and  continued  life  upon  his  petition,  when 


30  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

certainly  the  same  end  would  not  have  been  answered  without 
it ;  nor,  perhaps,  would  it  have  been  proper  or  right  without 
it.  But  why  did  Ilezckiah  desire  to  live  V  Why  this  strong 
and  earnest  petition  for  life  ?  He  did  not  fear  death ;  at  any 
rate  had  no  cause  to  fear  it.  He  was  at  peace  with  God,  and 
prepared  to  die  ;  and  coming  so  near  the  gates  of  death,  it  was 
as  painful  a  process  to  return  as  to  go  through.  Why  should 
he  desire  to  return — to  go  the  whole  length  through  the  same 
sad  scenes  again — to  return  from  the  very  borders  of  heaven  to 
earth  again?  No  man,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  lives  to  himself  or 
dies  to  himself.  No  pious  man  desires  or  designs  thus  to  live 
or  die.  AVhat  might  be  desirable  to  man  alone,  on  a  desert 
island,  is  not  desirable  to  man  in  the  midst  of  society.  He  is 
interested  in  all  that  interests  his  fellow-men,  and  in  all  that 
promotes  the  glory  of  God.  And  this  world  is  not  merely  a 
scene  of  trial,  it  is  a  field  of  usefulness.  There  is  need  and 
room  enough  for  all.  And  seeing  what,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
he  had  done,  and  what,  if  life  were  spared,  he  might  still  ex- 
pect to  accomplish,  it  was  the  part  of  piety  to  desire  to  live 
rather  than  die — to  live  and  take  part  in  the  good  work,  rather 
than  die  and  leave  it  to  others,  or  leave  it  undone. 

So  felt  Hezekiah.  "The  grave  cannot  praise  thee,  death 
cannot  celebrate  thee.  They  that  go  down  into  the  pit  cannot 
hope  for  thy  truth.  The  living,  the  living,  he  shall  praise 
thee,  as  I  do  this  day.  The  father  to  the  children  shall  make 
known  thy  truth.     The  Lord  was  ready  to  save  me." 

This  subject  contains  instruction  of  deep  interest  to  us  all. 

I.  It  snows  THE  importance  of  life. 

There  is  a  natural  love  of  life,  and  yet  how  few  understand 
its  value,  or  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  given.  How  few 
feel  that  a  whole  eternity  depends  upon  it.     Days  and  years 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A   DUTY.  31 

arc  wasted  in  those  things  that  cannot  profit.  The  great  mass 
seem  to  have  no  proper  medium,  but  go  to  the  extremes  of 
presumption  and  despair.  It  is  wasted  as  if  it  could  have  no 
end  and  could  not  be  exhausted,  or  it  is  suffered  to  rust  out  in 
idleness,  as  if  it  had  no  object  and  no  proper  use.  But, 
whether  men  are  aware  of  it  or  not,  life  has  a  determined  ob- 
ject ;  an  object  that  cannot  be  accomplished  without  effort. 
There  is  much  to  endure — there  is  much,  very  much,  to  be 
done.  And  what  our  hands  find  to  do,  we  are  to  do  with  our 
might.  AVe  must  enter  heartily  into  all  the  appropriate  busi- 
ness of  life.  We  form  characters  for  eternity.  We  sow  seed 
whose  fruit  of  good  or  evil,  according  to  the  seed,  we  shall 
reap  forever.  Here  we  receive  that  hue  of  righteousness  or 
wickedness  which  fits  for  heaven  or  hell,  which  all  eternity  will 
but  deepen.  How  important,  then,  this  present  life  !  And 
how  foolish  to  dream  it  away  in  idle  fancies,  or  merely  to  be 
busy  here  and  there  !  The  beasts  have  their  appropriate  ob- 
ject in  existence,  and  it  is  answered  without  their  concurrence 
or  consent.  And  with  appetites  satisfied  they  sink  to  rest, 
remembering  no  evil  past,  anticipating  none  future.  And 
shall  man  live  and  die  like  them  ?  Eat  and  drink,  and  sink  to 
rest,  or  rise  up  to  play  ?  Or  spend  all  his  strength,  and  labor, 
and  thought,  about  those  things  which  perish  with  the  using, — 
laying  up  treasures  on  earth  and  none  in  heaven  ?  Immortal 
interests  are  involved  in  this  present  life.  It  is  the  most  im- 
portant field  that  men  can  occupy. 

II.  There  is  alw^ays  a  legitimate  motive  to  live. 

Life  is  not  too  long,  at  longest,  to  answer  life's  great  end. 
There  is  "  something  still  to  do,  or  bear."  No  human  being 
on  earth  ought,  through  depression  of  spirits,  or  false  views  of 
life,  to  make  himself  useless.     All  cannot  serve  their  genera- 


32  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

tlon  in  the  same  way,  nor  is  the  same  kind  of  service  needed 
from  all ;  but  each  according  to  bis  several  ability,  or  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  the  providence  of  God  has  placed  him. 
An  example  of  faith  and  patience  in  the  midst  of  severe  and 
protracted  affliction  is  not  lost  upon  the  world,  nor  is  cheerful 
resignation  in  extreme  poverty  and  age.  The  world  needs 
such  examples ;  and  they  are  among  the  most  useful  that  can 
be  presented.  They  teach,  experimentally  and  practically,  les- 
sons of  the  utmost  importance  and  deepest  interest.  Those 
that  cannot  labor  for  Christ,  may  suffer  for  him ;  and  those 
that  have  no  power  of  language  to  speak  for  him,  may  yet  ex- 
hibit in  real  life  the  power  of  his  grace,  and  exhibit  it  with  a 
force  and  vividness  that  no  language  can  equal.  And  then, 
who  shall  calculate  the  influence  of  their  prayers,  who  are 
princes  in  disguise,  and  have  power  with  God,  and  prevail  V 
There  is  a  great  and  grievous  mistake  upon  this  subject,  aris- 
ing from  very  partial  and  limited  views. 

A  man  who  can  no  longer  labor  at  his  vocation  or  do  busi- 
ness to  his  own  advantage,  is  too  often  deemed  useless ;  and 
in  spite  of  himself,  perhaps,  in  measure  partakes  of  the  same 
feeling.  "  I  am  this  day  fourscore  years  old,"  as  said  Bar- 
zillai;  "can  thy  servant  taste  what  I  eat,  or  what  I  drink? 
Can  I  hear  any  more  the  voice  of  singing  men  or  singing 
women  ?  Wherefore  then  should  thy  servant  be  yet  a  burden 
unto  my  lord,  the  king."  This  was  a  good  reason  why  he 
should  not  go  to  court,  since  age  had  unfitted  him  for  its  du- 
ties. But  was  Barzillai,  though  fourscore  years  old,  useless  ? 
In  a  time  of  trouble  and  rebellion,  his  influence  in  favor  of  the 
right  was  better  than  a  thousand  fighting  men.  There  is  al- 
ways a  legitimate  motive  to  live. 


THE   LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A    DUTY.  33 

III.  We  are  not  to  give  up  to  die,  till  all  means  of 

SAVING  LIFE  ARE  EXHAUSTED. 

AVhy  sliould  we  be  willing  to  die,  when,  for  aiiglit  we  know, 
it  is  the  will  of  God  that  we  should  live  ?  How  long  it  may  be 
his  will  to  continue  life  we  cannot  know.  No  man  knoweth  the 
day  of  his  death.  But  there  are  means  to  be  used  to  preserve 
life,  or  neglected  to  hasten  death.  And  these  means  will 
never  be  used  efficiently,  while  there  is  an  indifference  about 
the  result.  He  that  is  willing  or  anxious  to  die,  may  use 
means  to  live,  from  a  cold  sense  of  duty,  or  to  save  appear- 
ances. But  can  he  use  them  as  he  could  or  would  if  he  were 
desirous  to  live  ?  The  very  idea  of  using  means  to  effect  an 
object,  implies  an  interest  in  the  object.  Without  this,  the 
means  may  be  used  in  form,  but  not  in  fact ;  and  even  means 
which  others  use  to  effect  an  object  for  us,  may  fail  through 
our  want  of  interest  in  the  object.  We  see  this  continually  in 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  It  is  the  means  to  save  souls 
from  death.  That  is  the  object.  But  it  fails  through  the 
hearer's  want  of  interest  in  the  object.  And  why  may  not 
medicine  administered  to  save  the  body  from  death,  fail  in  the 
same  way,  through  the  patient's  want  of  interest  in  life,  or 
from  his  willingness  or  anxiety  to  die  ?  He  has  made,  up  his 
mind  to  die — it  would  be  a  disappointment  not  to  die.  Now, 
humanly  speaking,  will  he  be  as  likely  to  recover  as  one  who, 
like  Hezekiah,  is  desirous  to  live  ?  Judge  ye.  If  not,  he  has 
not  used  the  appropriate  means  to  live.  He  has  given  himself 
up  to  die  before  the  proper  means  of  saving  life  are  exhausted. 
Is  this  right  ?  On  the  contrary,  is  it  not  a  kind  of  suicide, 
resulting  from  limited  views  and  imperfect  instruction  ?  But 
ought  he  not  to  be  willing  to  die  ?  Surely,  when  the  will  of 
God  to  that  effect  is  clearly  manifest,  he  ought ;  when  all  ap- 


34  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

propriate  means  of  saving  life  arc  exhausted  in  vain.  Not  till 
then,  for  not  till  then  is  the  will  of  God  that  he  should  die  and 
not  live,  clearly  manifested.  He  ought  to  be  prepared  to  die. 
This  is  duty  now,  always,  at  all  times.  But  that  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent matter  from  being  willing  to  die  now  ;  as  men  are  often 
willing  who  are  not  prepared,  while  those  prepared,  like  Heze- 
kiah,  are  not  willing. 

"We  ought  to  learn  from  experience  and  observation  ;  there- 
fore I  may  mention  a  case  that  occurred  many  years  ago,  from 
which  an  important  lesson  was  learned.  It  was  at  the  com- 
mencement of  a  new  and  small  church,  where  every  individual 
counted.  But  some  members,  from  various  causes,  were  more 
prominent  and  seemed  more  important  than  others.  So  small 
a  church  at  its  commencement  could  not  afford  to  lose  one, 
least  of  all  a  prominent  one.  But  one  of  the  most  prominent 
was  taken  sick — a  married  woman  in  the  prime  of  life — the 
only  one  of  a  large  family  connection  that  made  any  profession 
of  piety.  They  loved  her,  and  endured  her  religion.  She 
was  perfectly  resigned,  according  to  the  usual  meaning  of  that 
phrase — willing  to  die,  and  anxious  to  die.  Of  course  she  was 
visited  often  both  by  the  doctor  and  the  minister,  and  though 
their  prescriptions  were  different,  there  was  no  opposition — 
there  never  need  be  any.  Prayer  was  made  of  the  church  for 
her,  and  she  lived  on,  beyond  general  expectation.  At  length 
the  doctor  said  to  the  minister,  "  Our  patient  ought  to  get 
well,  and  she  might  if  she  had  not  made  up  her  mind  to  die. 
The  trouble  is  in  your  practice,  and  not  in  mine."  It  was  a 
new  idea,  not  taught  in  the  schools,  and  it  changed  the  course 
of  that  minister's  practice  ever  after.  And  having  learned 
himself,  he  taught  her  the  way  of  God  more  perfectly — not 
merely  submission  to  live,  but  a  desire  to  live,  and  a  using 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A    DUTY.  35 

means  to  live,  with  an  interest  in  the  result.  Now,  if  we  are 
not  to  give  up  ourselves  to  die  till  all  means  of  saving  life  are 
exhausted,  are  we  to  give  up  others,  and  prophesy  death,  and 
prepare  the  way  for  the  fulfilment  of  our  own  prophecies  ? 

IV.  The  power  of  prayer. 

His  life  was  granted  at  his  request.  **I  have  heard  thy 
prayer,  I  have  seen  thy  tears ;  behold,  I  will  add  unto  thy 
days  fifteen  years."  If  he  had  not  prayed,  he  would  have  died. 
A  boon  not  esteemed  worth  asking  for,  could  not  have  been 
properly  appreciated,  and  in  this  case  would  not  have  been 
bestowed.  He  is  spared  on  his  petition.  He  prayed  with 
strong  crying  and  tears,  and  God  gave  him  his  request. 
"  The  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  the  righteous  man  availeth 
much."  It  did  avail.  "  Is  any  among  you  afflicted  ?  let  him 
pray." 

Finally,  The  plea  in  prayer. 

"I  have  walked  before  thee  in  truth  and  with  a  perfect 
heart,  and  have  done  that  which  is  good  in  thy  sight."  This 
was  not  the  beo-innino;  of  his  servino;  God,  nor  was  this  the 
commencement  of  his  praying.  He  had  served  God  in  health 
and  prosperity,  and  when  all  earthly  things  went  well  with 
him,  and  now  he  finds  the  special  benefit  of  it  in  his  extremity. 
There  is  a  God  and  Father,  to  hear  and  save.  "  Remember 
now,  0  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  how  I  have  walked  before  thee 
with  a  perfect  heart,  and  have  done  that  which  is  good  in  thy 
sight." 

''  Thy  years  are  one  eternal  day, 

And  must  thy  children  die  so  soon?  " 

"I  have  heard  thy  prayers,  I  ha^e  seen  thy  tears;  behold,  I 
will  add  unto  thy  days  fifteen  years." 

How  different  all  this  from  those  who  visit  God  only  in 


3G  r.EY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons.  * 

trouble,  and  pour  out  a  prayer  only  wlien  bis  cbastenings  are 
upon  tbem  I  This  extremity  will  sooner  or  later  be  yours  and 
mine,  and  we  shall  pray.  Hearts  that  never  prayed  before, 
will  pray  then.  And  what  shall  be  the  plea  ?  Promises  and 
good  intentions  for  the  future  ?  To  flatter  him  with  our  lips 
and  to  lie  to  him  with  our  tongues?  And  will  the  answer  be, 
"  I  have  heard  thy  prayer  ?  "  Will  it  not  rather  be,  "I  have 
called  and  ye  refused ;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand  and  no 
man  regarded?"  "When  your  fear  cometh  as  desolation, 
and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirlwind ;  when  distress 
and  anguisb  cometh  upon  you ;  then  shall  ye  call  upon  me, 
but  I  will  not  answer." 


EXTRACT    from    ANOTHER    SERMON    ON    TKE    SAME    SUBJECT. 

Who  delivered  us  from  so  great  a  death,  and  doth  deliver ;  in  whom  we  trust 
that  he  will  yet  deliver  us.    2  Cor.  i.  10. 

There  was  one  age  in  the  church  when  there  were  martyrs 
not  a  few,  and  tbe  blood  of  the  martyrs  was  the  seed  of  the 
church.  But  no  man  sought  the  crown  of  martyrdom  or  de- 
sired to  escape  from  life.  Persecuted  in  one  city,  they  fled  to 
another ;  and  left  everywhere  permanent  fruits  of  their  labors. 
And  that  they  might  labor,  they  used  all  fair  means  to  pre- 
serve life.  Thus  they  showed  their  trust  in  God.  Yet  the 
great  object  was  not  to  live.  Life  was  the  means,  not  the  end, 
— the  means  of  accomplishing  an  inconceivably  more  glorious 
and  noble  end.  They  counted  not  their  lives  dear  to  them,  so 
that  they  might  finish  their  course ;  and  they  did  count  their 
lives  dear  to  them,  that  they  might  finish  their  course.  And  in 
the  midst  of  dangers  and  enemies,  and  often,  seemingly,  with  but 


'  THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A   DUTY.  37 

a  step  between  them  and  death,  some  of  them  lived  to  old  age. 
They  fell  one  by  one,  and  most  of  them  by  violence  ;  but  they 
never  rushed  on  death,  or  sought  death, — never  needlessly  ex- 
posed themselves  to  suffering  or  death.  The  only  apparent 
departure  from  this  was  Paul's  last  visit  to  Jerusalem.  And 
this  he  made  by  special  direction.  "  Behold  I  go  bound  in 
the  spirit  unto  Jerusalem,  not  knowing  the  things  that  shall 
befall  me  there,  save  that  the  Holy  Ghost  witnesseth  in  every 
city,  saying  that  bonds  and  afflictions  abide  me."  "I  will 
show  him  how  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  my  name's  sake." 
He  knew  the  character  and  spirit  of  his  countrymen,  and  could 
well  anticipate  what  to  expect  from  them ;  and,  in  general, 
bonds  and  afflictions  awaited  him,  though  the  particulars  could 
not  be  foreseen  or  avoided.  But  it  was  different  in  this  case. 
When  he  came  to  Cesarea,  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  a  prophet 
named  Agabus  *'  took  Paul's  girdle,  and  bound  his  own  hands 
and  feet,  and  said,  Thus  saith  the  Holy  Ghost,  so  shall  the 
Jews  at  Jerusalem  bind  the  man  that  owneth  this  girdle,  and 
shall  deliver  him  into  the  hands  of  the  Gentiles.  And  when 
we,"  Luke  says,  "heard  these  things,  both  we  and  they  of 
that  place  besought  him  not  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem."  In  oth- 
er cases,  with  similar  warning,  he  would  not  have  gone.  But 
he  went  up  now  by  special  direction  ;  and  means  lawful  to  es- 
cape suffering  in  other  cases,  were  not  lawful  now.  But  while 
he  went  up  by  express  command,  there  was  no  unnecessary 
exposure  of  himself — no  courting  suffering,  or  tame  surrender 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  or  readiness  to  let  them  do  what 
they  would.  He  claimed  protection  against  them  as  a  Roman 
citizen,  made  his  case  known  to  the  Roman  governor,  and  fi- 
nally appealed  to  Caesar. 

That  age  of  the  church  is  properly  called  the  golden  age, 
4 


38  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

when  men  strove  to  live,  and  lived  to  labor.  But  another  age 
of  a  different  spirit  succeeded  that, — an  age  when  men  courted 
the  crown  of  martyrdom,  and  tempted  and  dared  their  enemies 
to  kill  them,  and  in  a  spirit  of  bravado  exposed  themselves  in 
every  way.  They  scorned  to  claim  their  lawful  privilege,  or 
to  plead  their  cause  before  the  tribunal.  When  persecuted  in 
one  city,  they  scorned  to  flee  to  another.  It  was  their  highest 
ambition  to  die  by  violence,  and  when  the  heathen  were  willing 
to  let  them  go,  they  would  not  be  let  go,  but  used  even  taunts 
and  reproaches  to  quicken  and  excite  them  to  murder.  And 
he  that  had  escaped  by  night,  or  as  Paul  did,  by  being  let 
down  from  the  wall  in  a  basket,  would  have  been  ashamed  to 
tell  it.  So  prevalent  was  this  feeling  that  such  an  act  would 
have  been  deemed  evidence  of  a  craven  spirit.  They  had  lost, 
in  great  measure,  a  sense  of  the  value  of  life,  and  of  the  object 
of  life  ;  though  restrained  by  some  kind  of  principle  from  di- 
rect acts  of  violence  upon  themselves,  they  were  anxious  to  die. 
The  great  object  seemed  to  be  to  get  clear  of  life  as  soon  as 
possible — to  die  by  violence,  as  many  of  the  apostles  and 
first  Christians  did,  and  to  die  recklessly  and  needlessly,  as  the 
apostles  and  first  Christians  did  not. 

The  age  of  sober,  earnest  matter-of-fact,  gave  place  to  an 
age  of  romance ;  and  something  of  that  kind  has  remained  with 
the  church  in  all  ages  since, — far  less  now  than  in  former  cen- 
turies. But  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  something  of  this  kind 
extends  through  almost  all  the  ranks  of  Christian  life — perhaps 
most  among  those  who  are  otherwise  the  most  pious — as  they 
are  nearest  to  heaven,  and  have  the  clearest- view  of  its  glories. 
And  this  would  naturally  be  the  case  with  them,  unless  with 
the  clearest  view  of  heaven  they  also  had  the  clearest  view  of 
the  importance  of  life,  and  of  the  necessity  and  power  of  piety 


S\ 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A   DUTY.  39 

on  earth.  But  let  them  look  abroad  over  the  earth  and  see 
how  much  is  to  be  done,  and  how  much  by  the  grace  of  God 
may  be  done,  and  how  necessary  to  earth  are  those  who  are 
fast  ripening  for  heaven,  and  at  least  all  anxiety  to  depart  will 
vanish,  and  they  will  cheerfully  wait  their  threescore  years 
and  ten. 

Whitefield,  with  all  his  piety,  was  not  without  his  defects 
upon  this  subject,  and  sometimes  expressed  his  weariness  of 
life  and  desire  to  depart  and  be  at  rest,  in  strong  language. 
And  perhaps  few  have  had  greater  cause  to  wish  to  live  or  die, 
as  few  have  lived  so  near  to  heaven,  or  been  so  extensively 
useful  on  earth.  Knowing  that  there  was  laid  up  for  him  a 
crown  of  righteousness,  it  might  seem  natural  that  he  should 
be  anxious  to  receive  it — the  sooner  the  better.  These  feel- 
ings of  weariness  of  life  and  longing  to  depart,  were  once  ex- 
pressed strongly  to  his  fellow-laborer,  Tennent,  closing  with 
the  inquiry,  *'  Well,  brother  Tennent,  you  are  the  oldest  man 
among  us,  do  you  not  rejoice  that  your  reward  is  so  near  at 
hand?"  Mr.  T.  bluntly  replied,  "No,  sir,  it  is  no  pleasure 
to  me  at  all ;  and  if  you  knew  your  duty,  it  would  be  none  to 
you.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  death ;  my  business  is  to  live 
as  long  as  I  can — as  well  as  I  can — and  to  serve  ray  Lord  as 
faithfully  as  I  can,  until  he  shall  think  proper  to  call  me  home. 
I  hired  a  man  and  sent  him  into  the  field  to  labor ;  and  pas- 
sing by  that  way  in  the  afternoon,  I  found  him  standing  and 
looking  at  the  sun,  and  saying  to  himself,  *  It  seems  as  though 
the  sun  never  would  go  down — I  wish  it  was  night — I  am 
tired  of  this  working  all  day  long — nothing  but  work,  work, 
work.'  Now  he  might,  while  bending  to  his  work,  have  looked 
up  occasionally  at  the  sun  to  note  its  position,  and  to  leave  his 
work  in  proper  shape  when  the  sun  went  down.     But  if  he 


4:0  KEv.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

Lad  felt  a  real  interest  in  the  work,  would  not  the  sun  have 
gone  down  and  night  come  soon  enough  ?  ' ' 

Many  of  our  sayings  that  pass  current  are  founded  upon  a 
false  view  of  the  value  of  life  ;  as,  "  The  fairest  flowers  soonest 
wither."  "  Death  loves  a  sliining  mark."  "  His  life  is  neai; 
its  close,  for  he  is  fast  ripening  for  heaven,  and  wont  be  spared 
to  us  long ;  "  or,  "  He  is  too  good  for  this  world."  "  It  is  bet- 
ter to  wear  out  than  rust  out,"  which  conveys  the  idea  that  to 
avoid  the  rusting  out  it  is  necessary  to  wear  out  soon.  The 
saying  is  true  enough,  but  makes  a  false  impression.  And 
who  can  tell  how  much  influence  these  sayings  have  in  produc- 
ing their  own  fulfilment?  There  were  times  in  our  colleges 
when  full  health  and  a  ruddy  countenance  were  evidences  of 
poor  scholarship — the  countenance  must  be  "  sicklied  o'er  with 
the  pale  cast  of  thought."  And  who  can  tell  but  there  have 
been  martyrs,  not  to  scholarship,  but  to  this  false  idea,  as  there 
have  been  martyrs  in  the  church  to  ideas  equally  false  ?  In 
whose  hand  is  "length  of  days?" — Prov.  iii.  16.  To  whom 
is  it  said,  "  With  long  life  will  I  satisfy  him,  and  show  him  my 
salvation  ? " — Ps.  xci.  10.  There  are  those  of  whom  the  world 
is  not  worthy,  and  for  that  very  reason  the  world  needs  them 
the  more  ;  and  he  that  is  fittest  for  heaven  is  the  greatest  bles- 
sing on  earth.  What  would  be  the  effect  if  every  pious  man, 
the  hour  he  became  pious,  were  taken  from  the  earth  ?  It 
might  be  said,  as  is  sometimes  said  in  cases  somewhat  similar, 
*'  That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end."  And  one 
great  end  of  life  certainly  is,  to  secure  an  inheritance  among 
them  that  are  sanctified.  And  to  a  pious  man  dying  in  an 
hour  after  he  has  reached  the  city  of  refuge,  that  inheritance 
is  secure — that  great  end  of  life  is  answered.  Has  life  no 
other  end  or  object  but  this  ? 


THE    LOVE    OF    LIFE,    A    DUTY.  41 

Why  has  God  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  to  dwell  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth,  but  that  they  might  feel  like  kindred  and  act 
like  kindred  ;  and,  as  kindred  souls,  seek  each  other's  welfare, 
temporal  and  eternal  ?  And  is  it  not  one  great  object  of  life 
to  do  this  ?  Now,  while  it  may  be  true  that  one  man  may  do 
it  more  effectually  in  a  short  life  than  another  in  a  long  one, 
is  it  true  that  he  may  do  it  more  effectually  in  a  short  life  than 
in  a  long  one?  In  individual  cases  it  may  possibly  be  so,  as 
Samson  slew  more  by  his  death  than  by  his  life.  But  these 
cases  are  of  rare  occurrence ;  for  ordinarily  the  business  of  life 
is  not  comprised  in  one  signal  act,  nor  is  an  impression  for 
their  good  made  upon  the  world  in  this  way,  but  by  a  con- 
tinued course  of  devoted  service. 

There  is  always  something  worth  living  for ;  and  no  man  has 
done  so  much  but  with  continued  life  he  might  do  more,  and 
with  the  spirit  of  piety  rejoice  in  all  his  labors.  And  while  to 
live  is  not  the  great  object,  it  is  an  essential  means  of  accom- 
plishing the  great  objects  for  which  life  is  given.  It  is  true 
that  God  may  raise  up  others  to  supply  the  place  of  those  who 
are  taken  away.  But  is  this  any  rule  of  duty  to  them,  or  any 
justification  for  seeking  a  removal  ?  There  is  a  right  way  of 
leaving  this  work  to  God.  There  is  also  such  a  thing  as  de- 
serting it.  We  may  fairly  leave  that  to  God  over  which  we 
have  no  control.  When  all  lawful  means  to  preserve  life  are 
exhausted,  we  may  leave  the  interests  of  piety  on  earth  and 
the  salvation  of  men  with  him,  and  die  in  peace.  The  Lord 
will  provide.  Till  then,  he  has  provided  in  all  those  matters 
which  devolve  upon  us.  And  why  should  he  raise  up  others 
to  perform  a  work  which  we  are  raised  up  to  perform,  and  with 
proper  views  of  life  might  live  to  perform  ?  We  are  to  trust 
in  God  by  doing  what  is  right  in  the  case,  be  the  case  as  it 
4* 


42 

will.  And  this  is  not  giving  too  much  importance  to  life,  or 
making  too  much  of  ourselves,  as  a  false  humility  or  timid 
shrinking  spirit  might  suggest.  It  is  taking  and  maintaining 
the  position  in  which  God  has  placed  us,  and  serving  him  and 
our  generation  according  to  his  will  as  manifest  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. It  has  pleased  him  to  employ  human  beings  to  carry 
on  his  work  and  establish  his  kingdom  on  earth.  And  to  be 
thus  employed  is  an  honor  and  privilege  to  be  desired  above 
all  others.  There  may  be  higher  enjoyment  elsewhere  when 
the  work  is  done  and  the  conflict  over.  But  we  have  no  con- 
ception of  higher  privileges  than  to  live  and  labor  for  God. 
There  is  a  salvation  so  as  by  fire,  with  works  destroyed.  There 
is  a  salvation,  with  works  following.  There  is  an  entrance 
into  the  haven  of  rest — a  wreck,  scarcely  saved.  There  is  an 
abundant  entrance  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord 
and  Savior,  Jesus  Christ.     Covet  earnestly  the  best. 


♦    v 


SERMON  III. 

THE    LOVE    OF    MONEY. 

The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil.    1  Timothy  vi.  10. 

God  is  the  natural  sovereign  of  liuman  beings,  and  the 
natural  object  of  human  affection  ;  and  while  he  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  the  heart,  all  tlia  powers  and  faculties-^  man  are  in 
barmooyr  -and^man  jsjiappy.  But  since  he  has  been  deposed, 
every  usurper  has  laid  claim  to  the  vacant  throne,  and  the  hu- 
man heart  is  a  field  of  contention  and  scene  of  disorder.  The 
design  of  the  gospel  is  to  banish  every  usurper,  and  restore 
God  to  his  throne  in  the  heart.  And  God  is  the  supreme  ob- 
ject of  affection  wherever  the  gospel  produces  its  legitimate 
effect.  But  he  has  competitors  who  have  occupied  his  seat, 
Und  claim  it  still,  and  are  continually  strugglmg  to  regain  their 
authority.  Against  these  the  apostle  wrote  to  warn  the  dis- 
ciples, especially  against  those  from  which  he  apprehended  the 
most  danger.  Multitudes  have  been  ruined  by  the  love  of  pre- 
eminence, and  multitudes  more  by  the  love  of  pleasure ;  but 
the  love  of  money  is,  in  a  manner,  the  root  of  all  evil.  Not 
but  that  other  sources  send  forth  their  evils  too,  but  the  evils 
which  spring  from  this  source  are  so  many  and  so  aggravated, 
that  the  mind  is  overwhelmed  in  the  contemplation.  This  is, 
as  it  were,  the  origin  of  all  evils. 

Let  us  consider.  First,  the  dangers,  and  Secondly,  the 
effects  of  the  love  of  money. 

I.  It  is  dangerous. 

1.  It  is  dangerous  from  its  disguises.     An  enemy  in  the 


44  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

camp  is  a  thousand  times  more  formidable  than  one  in  the  open 
field.  In  the  one  case  we  are  taken  unawares,  in  the  other  we 
can  prepare  to  resist  or  flee.  Satan  is  never  more  successful 
than  when  he  appears  disguised  as  an  angel  of  light.  When 
he  goes  about  as  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom  he  may  devour, 
his  character  and  designs  are  manifest.  But  it  is  in  the  dress 
and  under  the  name  of  friend,  that  he  allures  men  to  destruc- 
tion. The  love  of  money  is  disguised  in  a  thousand  ways,  and 
never  appears  to  the  lover  himself  in  its  true  character. 

One  of  the  most  common  disguises  is,  a  change  of  narm. 
This  is  a  common  device  to  diminish  the  bitterness  of  reproach 
and  take  off  the  edge  of  criminality.  We  all  know  something 
of  the  power  of  words,  and  how  the  baseness  of  crime  may  be 
lost  in  the  softened  terms  that  are  employed  to  describe  it. 
The  same  spirit  which  is  called  avarice,  or  love  of  money,  ap- 
pears very  diflferent  under  the  name  of  economy,  or  good  man- 
agement, and  the  delusion  is  encouraged  by  the  impossibility 
of  drawing  an  exact  line  between  them, — telling  where  econo- 
my ends  and  love  of  money  begins.  The  territories  of  the  two 
are  divided  by  a  line  so  indistinct,  that  it  is  very  easy  to  draw 
over  the  name  of  the  one  for  a  covering  to  the  spirit  and  deeds 
of  the  other.  How  often  is  this  done  where  the  real  state  of 
the  case  is  doubtful  to  the  world.  The  man  says  it  is  econo- 
my, and  it  may  be  so.  He  is  so  near  the  dividing  line,  that  a 
judgment  upon  his  case  cannot  be  pronounced  with  confidence. 
How  often  is  this  done  when  there  is  no  doubt.  The  deluded 
man  himself  talks  of  economy  when  the  whole  world  pro- 
nounces it  downright  avarice.  He  commenced  upon  what  the 
world  calls  doubtful  ground,  and  as  he  was  deceived  at  the 
outset,  the  deception  continued  after  his  conduct  had  dissipated 
the  last  remains  of  doubt  from  every  other  mind.     This  is  one 


TUE    LOVE    OF    MONEY.  45 

of  the  most  successful  disguises  of  avarice.  Without  changing 
its  nature,  it  has  taken  shelter  under  a  good  name.  Those 
■who  would  scorn  it  under  its  true  name,  receive  it  with  open 
arms  when  it  comes  as  economy,  prudence,  good  management. 
Another  disguise  is  found  in  the  design.  "While  a  degree 
of  parsimony  and  eagerness  for  money  is  acknowledged,  his 
station  in  society,  his  relations  in  life,  yea,  even  religion,  re- 
quire it.  He  is  but  making  a  comfortable  provision  for  his 
family,  and  "  if  any  provide  not  for  his  own,  and  especially 
for  those  of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is 
worse  than  an  infidel."  How  often  has  providing  for  a  family 
been  made  a  cloak  for  the  love  of  money.  While  avarice 
stretched  its  desires  and  arms  abroad 

"  To  grasp  in  all  the  shore," 

it  was  excusable, — yea,  praiseworthy, — for  the  sole  object  was 
to  provide  for  the  family.  Every  being  but  the  deluded  man 
himself  sees  that  there  is  no  special  regard  for  the  comfort  of 
the  family,  and  no  particular  readiness  to  part  with  money  for 
their  accommodation ;  but  every  plea  of  charity,  and  every  call 
of  benevolence,  is  rendered  abortive  by  the  claims  of  the  fami- 
ly. This  is  a  standing  apology  for  the  love  of  money, — an 
omnipresent  excuse  for  seeking  it  with  insatiable  eagerness, 
and  holding  on  to  it  with  the  grasp  of  death.  The  disguise  is 
barely  sufficient  to  deceive  themselves — as  if  providing  for 
their  own  were  the  sum  and  substance  of  Christian  duty. 

Providing  for  old  age,  is  another  disguise ;  and  a  man 
goes  on  providing  for  old  age  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life.  With 
thousands  already  in  store,  and  but  a  day  to  live,  his  anxiety 
for  gain  is  not  in  the  least  diminished.  Poor  man  !  He  is 
but  providing  for  old  age  I  and  while  he  withholds  relief  from 


46  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

the  miserable,  and  exacts  his  legal  due  at  the  expense  of  mer- 
cy, he  is  but  providing  for  old  age  !  And  can  you  blame 
him  ?  Who  would  be  willing  to  be  cast,  in  his  last  days,  upon 
the  charity  of  the  world  ?  And  this  is  the  disguise  of  the  most 
insatiable  avarice.  The  love  of  money,  then,  is  peculiarly  dan- 
gerous from  its  disguises.  It  is  easily  concealed  under  false 
names  and  false  pretences.  The  very  vice  which  excludes 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  is  called  by  virtue's  name,  and 
dressed  in  virtue's  robes. 

2.  The  love  of  money  is  dangerous  from  its  respectability. 
Every  societ}^  however  corrupt,  imposes  some  restraint  upon 
the  conduct  of  its  members,  and  there  are  certain  bounds  be- 
yond which  indulgence  cannot  be  given.  To  transgress  these 
bounds,  is  to  lose  character  and  standing  in  society.  If  the 
transgressor  does  not  forfeit  his  life,  he  is  avoided  as  a  nuisance. 

The  rules  of  a  society  are  strict  or  loose  according  to  the 
character  of  its  members.  Pirates  have  their  rules,  but  they 
are  not  so  strict  as  those  of  civil  society.  The  very  conduct 
which  would  destroy  character  in  one,  would  be  a  recommen- 
dation to  the  other.  Civil  society  has  its  rules,  but  they  are 
not  so  strict  as  those  of  a  church.  A  church  has  its  rules,  but 
they  are  not  so  strict  as  those  in  the  kingdom  above.  A  man 
may  forfeit  his  character  in  heaven,  and  yet  be  in  good  stand- 
ing in  the  church.  He  may  forfeit  his  character  in  the  church, 
and  yet  be  in  good  standing  in  civil  society,  and  so  on.  The 
love  of  money  forfeits  character  in  heaven,  and  sometimes  in 
the  church ;  while  in  civil  society,  unless  it  be  carried  to  a 
great  extreme,  it  is  a  recommendation.  "  Men  will  praise 
thee,  when  thou  doest  well  to  thyself."  The  love  of  money  is 
counted  an  excellence — an  improvement  of  character.  The 
extreme  sometimes  brings  disgrace,  while  the  thing  itself  is  a 


THE    LOVE    OF    MONEY.  47 

high  recommendation.  It  is  associated  with  industry  and  en- 
terprise, and  worldly  prosperity,  and  he  that  runs  all  risks  to 
obtain  money,  takes  the  shortest  road  to  secure  the  respect  of 
men.  While  he  employs  others  to  his  own  advantage,  and 
turns  everything  into  a  channel  that  suits  his  purposes  and  ad- 
vances his  interest,  he  is  sure  of  commendation,  and  all  honor- 
able epithets  are  applied  to  him.  His  name  is  above  reproach, 
and  his  company  is  everywhere  acceptable ;  while  the  virtue 
opposite  to  the  love  of  money,  contentment,  is  held  in  general 
contempt,  and  the  direction  of  God,  "  Having  food  and 
raiment,  let  us  be  therewith  content,"  is  trampled  under  foot. 
How  many  have  regained  character  and  blotted  out  the  remem- 
brance of  their  youthful  vices,  by  turning  from  dissipation  to 
the  love  of  money.  They  have  secured  respectability  by  ex- 
changing one  vice  for  another,  and  thousands  have  satisfied 
their  fears  and  their  consciences  by  the  change.  Here  is  the 
great  danger  to  the  professor  of  religion.  If  he  rob,  or  steal, 
or  defraud,  or  lie,  he  forfeits  his  standing  in  the  church,  and 
his  character  among  men.  He  is  restrained  from  these  vices 
not  merely  by  the  fear  of  God,  but  by  a  regard  to  reputation. 
Yet  he  may  love  money,  and  forfeit  the  favor  of  heaven,  but 
still  secure  a  more  extensive  re.spect  on  earth.  It  deserves  to 
be  considered,  whether  the  Christian  professor  has  not  peculiar 
temptations  to  the  love  of  money.  He  cannot  mingle  in  the 
dissipation  and  revelry  of  the  world,  without  giving  the  lie  to 
his  profession.  He  cannot  give  a  loose  rein  to  his  appetites 
and  passions,  as  others  can,  without  open  disgrace  ;  but  he  can 
love  money,  and  yet  pass  as  a  very  respectable  man  in  the 
world,  and  a  very  good  Christian  in  the  church.  He  can  love 
money,  and  never  suspect  the  genuineness  of  his  piety,  or  fear 
a  single  reproach.     He  can  love  money,  and  live  and  die  in 


48  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

the  church,  and  so  deceive  its  members  that  thoy  sliall  think 
Jiim  gone  to  the  rewards  of  the  blessed.  How  often  has 
*'  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  "  been  said  over 
the  bones  of  the  lovers  of  money.  His  profession  restrained 
him  from  many  vices  in  which  others  might  indulge,  and  he 
made  reprisals  by  indulging  more  largely  in  the  love  of  money. 
3.  The  love  of  money  is  dangerous  from  its  insatiahleness. 
Dissipation  and  licentiousness  have  a  bound  which  nature  itself 
has  fixed.  The  power  is  soon  exhausted,  and  the  constitution 
is  broken  down ;  and  necessity  enforces  an  outward  reforma- 
tion. All  sensual  indulgences  are,  from  their  very  nature, 
short-lived ;  and  when  a  ruined  constitution  presents  the  effects 
of  vice  before  the  mind  of  its  victim,  and  sickness  and  pain 
dissipate  the  delusion  of  the  world,  and  afford  opportunity  for 
reflection,  there  is  hope  that  the  reformation  may  extend  in- 
ward, and  that  the  most  dissipated  and  licentious  may  be 
brought  to  "  abhor  themselves  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes." 
But  what  bound  is  there  to  the  love  of  money,  or  at  what  point 
will  it  rest  satisfied  ?  Who  that  loved  it,  ever  had  enough  ? 
Many  have  fancied  that  they  should  be  satisfied  when  they  ar- 
rived at  a  certain  point  of  acquisition.  But  the  desires  always 
increase  with  greater  rapidity  than  the  possessions.  It  is  still 
true,  and  always  will  be,  that  "He  that  loveth  silver,  shall 
not  be  satisfied  with  silver ;  nor  he  that  loveth  abundance,  with 
increase."  Even  in  old  age  it  flourishes  in  green  luxuriance 
amid  the  decay  and  wreck  of  nature.  After  all  other  passions 
have  subsided  or  decayed,  the  love  of  money  still  lives  in  all 
the  vigor  and  freshness  of  youth.  It  has  gained  strength  from 
universal  decay,  and  reigns  sole  lord  of  the  heart.  In  middle 
life  it  was  restrained  by  the  love  of  pleasure,  or  a  sense  of 
shame — by  a  respect  for  character  or  friends — occasionally  by 


THE   LOVE    OF   MONEY.  49 

a  generous  emotion.  But  it  has  outlived  all  these  restraints, 
and  the  wi-etched  victim  of  avarice,  as  he  stands  with  whitened 
locks  and  withered  limbs,  on  the  borders  of  the  grave,  is  a 
spectacle  to  God,  to  angels,  and  to  men.  The  love  of  money 
has  blighted  every  hope  of  heaven,  and  dried  up  every  fountain 
of  feeling  in  his  bosom.  Its  very  insatiableness  and  its  im- 
mense increase  in  age,  flourishing  amidst  universal  desolation 
and  death,  show  the  danger  of  the  love  of  money. 

II.  The  effects. 

The  language  of  the  apostle  is  exceedingly  forcible — "  the 
root  of  all  evil."  This  is  a  strong  expression.  No  man  who 
is  acquainted  with  the  real  evils  which  have  originated  from 
this  source,  can  count  it  extravagant.  Let  me  point  out  a  few 
of  the  evils. 

1.  li  stops  the  progress  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  How 
often  has  it  defeated  the  best  laid  plans,  while  it  insinuated 
itself  into  the  counsels  of  the  godly,  and  covered  with  confusion 
the  armies  of  the  Lord  of  hosts.  When  Joshua  led  the  hosts 
of  Israel  into  the  land  of  Canaan,  no  enemy  was  able  to  stand 
before  them.  The  walls  of  Jericho  fell  down  at  their  approach, 
and  their  enemies  were  subdued  or  fled  in  the  utmost  terror. 
But  their  course  of  victory  was  suddenly  interrupted.  Joshua 
could  stop  the  sun  in  his  course,  but  he  could  not  stay  the 
hand  of  avarice.  The  love  of  money  gave  them  a  defeat  which 
all  their  enemies  could  not  give.  Achan  took  of  the  accursed 
thing,  and  the  anger  of  the  Lord  was  kindled  against  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel.  "  When  I  saw  among  the  spoils  a  goodly 
Babylonish  garment,  and  two  hundred  sheckles  of  silver,  and 
a  wedge  of  gold  of  fifty  sheckels  weight,  then  I  coveted  them, 
and  took  them ;  and,  behold,  they  are  hid  in  the  earth  in  the 
midst  of  my  tent."     Poor  wretch  !     He  was  going  with  a 


50 

victorious  company  to  take  possession  of  the  glory  of  all  lands, 
and  for  this  miserable  pittance  forfeited  his  inheritance  and 
brought  disgrace  and  defeat  upon  his  company.  And  how 
many  Achans  has  the  camp  of  the  Lord  included  in  every  age  ! 
distracting  the  counsels  and  defeating  the  efforts  of  the  pious  ! 
How  many  enterprises  which  promised  great  good,  have  been 
opposed  by  the  professedly  religious  !  How  many  have  no 
sympathy  with  any  scheme  of  benevolence — it  costs  so  much  ! 
The  pretended  ground  of  opposition  is  various.  The  real 
ground  is  the  love  of  money. 

The  love  of  money  has  been  the  strongest  barrier  to  the  suc- 
cess of  the  gospel.  What  but  this,  induces  men  to  give  in 
such  stinted  measure  to  spread  it  ?  This  most  frequently 
quenches  the  light  or  sullies  the  brightness  of  a  Christian  pro- 
fession. The  wickedness  in  professors  which  causes  the  way 
of  truth  to  be  evil  spoken  of,  for  the  most  part  originates  from 
the  love  of  money.  It  is  also  the  most  effectual  means  of  ex- 
cluding religion  from  the  heart.  How  many  who  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  inquire  what  they  should  do  to  inherit  eternal  life, 
have  failed  of  the  inheritance  through  love  of  money.  Like 
the  young  man  who  came  to  Christ  with  that  inquiry,  they 
have  gone  away  sorrowful,  and  remained  unsanctified  and  un- 
saved. The  love  of  the  world  has  held  possession  of  their 
hearts,  and  kept  out  the  love  of  the  Father.  **  The  God  of 
this  world  has  blinded  their  eyes  ....  lest  the  light  of  the 
glorious  gospel  of  Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  God,  should 
shine  unto  them."  The  light  of  life  shed  its  lustre  all  about 
them,  but  they  were  not  enlightened,  for  the  windows  of  their 
souls  were  darkened  by  the  love  of  money.  Thus  it  stops  the 
progress  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  it  prevents  that  devotion 
of  time  and  property  to  God,  by  which  the  interests  of  that 


TUE    LOVE    OP   MONEY.  51 

kingdom  are  advaDced — as  it  destroys  or  cripples  the  influence 
of  the  church,  which  is  the  channel  of  heavenly  blessings,  and 
the  grand  instrument  of  subduing  the  world  to  Christ — and 
as  it  shuts  the  hearts  of  men  against  eternal  things. 

2.  It  is  the  principal  cause  of  apostacies.  Many  profes- 
sors in  the  time  of  our  Savior  and  the  apostles  continued  but 
for  a  season.  This  large  class  is  presented  in  the  parable  of 
the  sower,  as  the  seed  sown  among  thorns.  The  fallow  ground 
had  never  been  fairly  broken  up.  They  "  hear  the  word,  and 
the  cares  of  this  world,  and  the  deceitfuiness  of  riches,  and  the 
lusts  of  other  things  entering  in,  choke  the  word,  and  it  be- 
cometh  unfruitful."  They  withdrew  by  little  and  little  from 
the  influence  of  the  gospel,  and  finally  settled  down  mere 
worldly  people.  They  perhaps  never  withdrew  from  the 
church,  and  never  so  far  exposed  themselves  as  to  justify  ex- 
clusion. Dead  to  all  the  realities  of  religion,  they  have  a  mere 
name  among  the  living,  and  when  circumstances  allow  a  prefer- 
ence, they  give  it  to  that  society  which  imposes  the  least  re- 
straint and  requires  the  least  sacrifice. 

Others,  having  professed  religion  for  a  time,  have  renounced 
it  in  all  its  forms,  and  appear  unblushing  candidates  at  Mam- 
mon's court.  Whether  they  have  renounced  all  connection 
with  religion  forever,  or  not,  the  cares  of  the  world  at  present 
have  thrust  it  all  aside.  Others,  emigrating,  have  carried  with 
them  the  love  of  money,  but  left  their  religion  in  the  land  of 
their  nativity  ;  and  their  new  acquaintances,  after  several  years, 
are  surprised  to  learn  that  they  were  reputed  pious  in  former 
days.  The  whole  land  exhibits  thousands  who,  like  Demas, 
have  forsaken  Christ,  *'  having  loved  this  present  world," — 
thousands  of  every  grade  of  character,  in  human  estimation, 
from  the  most  respectable  to  the  most  abandoned.     Diflfering 


52  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

in  a  thousand  other  things,  they  agree  in  this, — being  lovers  of 
money  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

Of  the  three  great  temptations  of  Satan,  this,  to  the  Chris- 
tian community,  is  far  the  most  alluring  and  the  most  fatal. 
Ambition,  and  the  love  of  pleasure,  have  slain  their  thousands, 
but  tlie  love  of  money  its  ten  thousands.  Pleasure  and  ambi- 
tion both  have  sunk  away  before  the  love  of  money. 

3,  The  love  of  money  is  the  great  fountain  of  crime. 
Every  species  of  -wickedness  which  has  disgraced  our  nature, 
here  finds  a  motive  for  its  perpetration.  The  blackest  crimes, 
and  the  meanest,  have  this  common  origin.  From  the  mur- 
derer down  to  the  robber,  the  thief,  the  gambler,  the  usurer, 
the  extortioner,  the  cheat,  the  fraudulent  dealer,  love  of  money 
is  the  inspiring  motive — modified  in  diflferent  individuals  by  a 
variety  of  circumstances — but  the  main  principle  is  the  same 
in  all.  All  to  some  extent  dread  the  guilt,  but  all  are  anxious 
to  be  partakers  of  the  gain  of  ungodliness.  The  murderer 
would  willingly  spare  the  shedding  of  blood,  but  he  must  have 
money,  and  presents  his  pistol  with  the  alternative, — "Your 
money  or  your  life."  The  thief  has  no  malicious  joy  in  injur- 
ing a  fellow-man,  but  he  must  have  money.  The  gambler 
turns  his  victim  out  to  despair  and  death ;  he  would  relieve 
him,  but  he  can't  spare  the  money.  The  usurer  who  takes 
advantage  of  the  necessity  of  his  neighbor  to  exact  exorbitant 
interest,  is  influenced  by  the  same  feeling  with  the  robber  and 
the  thief ;  and  so  on,  down  to  the  petty  crimes  which  are  so 
frequently  mingled  in  with  common  business.  The  crime  has 
no  charms,  it  is  the  gain  of  it  that  is  so  attractive.  The  love 
of  money  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole. 

Balaam  had  no  special  hostility  to  Israel,  but  he  "  loved  the 
wages  of  unrighteousness,"  and  for  money,  like   a  dishonest 


THE    LOTE    OF   MONEY.  53 

lawyer  for  his  fee,  he  gave  that  hellish  counsel  which  enabled 
their  enemies  to  send  mourning  and  desolation  and  death  through 
the  whole  camp.  Judas  had  no  revenge  to  gratify  in  betraying 
the  Savior  of  men.  He  only  loved  money  more  than  truth  and 
justice,  and  is  this  by  any  means  uncommon  ?  Turn  where  you 
will,  the  great  fountain  of  crime  is  the  love  of  money.  This  has 
induced  men  to  desert  all  principles  and  all  parties ;  has  separat- 
ed the  dearest  friends  and  broken  up  the  closest  intimacies.  It 
has  divided  hearts  that  seemed  knit  together  by  the  strongest  ties. 
4.  The  love  of  money  closes  the  gates  of  heaven.  That 
which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men,  is  often  an  abomination 
in  the  sight  of  God.  "  If  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of 
the  Father  is  not  in  him."  The  love  of  God  has  no  place  in 
mercenary  bosoms.  The  soul  that  dotes  on  glittering  dust,  has 
no  title  to  an  unfading  inheritance — no  fitness  for  the  pure  en- 
joyments of  heaven.  "  He  that  openeth  and  no  man  shutteth, 
and  shutteth  and  no  man  openeth,"  has  declared  that  covetous- 
ness  is  idolatry.  And  the  great  judge  of  the  living  and  the 
dead,  has  warned  all  men  beforehand,  not  to  be  deceived,  for 
neither  "  idolaters,  .  .  .  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  .  .  .  shall 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  He  who  is  under  the  influence 
of  the  love  of  money,  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God. 
He  may  not  be  a  miser,  but  he  is  a  lover  of  money.  He  may 
not  be  an  extortioner,  but  he  is  a  lover  of  money.  He  may 
not  be  fraudulent,  but  he  is  a  lover  of  money.  He  shall  not 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  praise  of  earth  may  rest 
upon  him,  but  he  is  attended  by  the  blast  of  heaven.  "  He  has 
his  day  and  his  object,  but  he  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  He  may  accumulate  large  earthly  possessions,  but  he 
does  not  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  he  shall  not  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God.  He  loves  the  world,  and  he  shall  perish 
5* 


54  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

with  the  world.  In  vain  at  last  is  he  aghast  at  his  former  mad- 
ness. In  vahi  does  ho  detest  the  idol  which  he  worshipped. 
He  has  bartered  his  soul  for  money,  and  the  gate  of  salvation 
is  closed  against  him."  Here  is  the  legitimate  fruit  of  the 
love  of  money — everlasting  death.  And  is  it  too  much  to  call 
it  the  root  of  all  evil  ?  It  .stays  the  progress  of  God's  glorious 
kingdom.  It  causes  numberless  apostacies  from  the  church. 
It  is  the  great  fountain  of  crime  on  earth,  and  finishes  its  dread- 
ful work  by  shutting  the  soul  out  of  the  paradise  of  God. 

Such  is  but  a  faint  outline  of  the  dangers  and  evils  of  the 
love  of  money.  We  live  in  the  midst  of  these  dangers,  and 
are  exposed  to  all  these  evils,  and  the  exposure  is  a  common 
one.  I  know  that  it  is  frequently  thought  that  the  pooi',  or 
those  in  moderate  circumstances,  have  little  interest  in  this 
subject,  and  it  is  sometimes  said  that  they  are  very  little  ex- 
posed, as  they  handle  very  little  money.  But  what  is  it  that 
is  the  root  of  all  evil  ?  Is  it  the  possession  of  money,  or  the 
legitimate  use  of  money  ?  No.  It  is  the  love  of  money.  And 
may  not  the  poorest  man  on  earth  love  it,  and  long  for  it  as 
heartily  as  the  richest  ?  Let  no  man  be  deceived  on  this  sub- 
ject— as  though  his  peculiar  circumstances  exempted  him  from 
danger.  The  greatest  danger  of  all,  is  an  unconsciousness  of 
danger.  The  experience  is  a  common  one.  When  Cbist 
said,  "  How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God  !  ...  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through 
the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God," — if  he  had  given  no  explanation,  it  might  have 
been  applied  merely  to  the  rich.  But  he  explained  the  same 
idea  in  dijfferent  language, — "  How  hard  is  it  for  them  that 
trust  in  riches  to  enter  into  the  kinojdom  of  God," — including 
all  who  seek  earthly  things  as  the  greatest  good.     The  ex- 


THE    LOVE    OF   MONEY.  55 

posurc  is  common,  and  so  is  the  way  of  safety  ;  and  the  very 
first  step  in  that  way  is  serious  consideration.  Think,  Let 
fancies  and  day-dreams  vanish,  and  summon  up  the  mind  to 
contemplate  realities — the  shortness  of  life — the  uncertainty  of 
earthly  things — how  much  the  soul  needs  which  money  cannot 
buy — and  what  it  shall  "profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul." 

Think,  too,  of  the  better  portion  fitted  to  the  nature  of  the 
soul,  and  lasting  as  its  immortality.  Never  hope  to  banish  the 
love  of  money  by  a  direct  effort.  The  mind  cannot  be  vacant. 
One  affection  can  be  expelled  only  by  introducing  another  and 
a  stronger.  The  love  of  God  alone  can  banish  the  idolatry  of 
covetousness,  and  the  treasures  of  heaven  are  brought  near  to 
lead  us  away  from  all  unhallowed  attachments  of  earth.  If 
you  would  banish  the  love  of  money,  or  secure  yourselves 
against  it,  you  must  set  your  affections  on  things  above.  Seek 
durable  riches  and  righteousness,  "a  treasure  in  the  heavens, 
that  faileth  not."  Believe  on  Jesus  Christ.  Become  united 
by  faith  to  him.  Be  a  living  branch  in  the  living  vine.  For 
*'  this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  your  faith. 
Who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but  he  that  believeth 
that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God."  All  others,  having  no  an- 
chor to  their  souls,  shall  be  swept  away  by  the  current  of 
this  world,  while  he  that  believeth  shall  be  saved.  He  shall 
be  conqueror,  and  more  than  conqueror,  through  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb;  and  *'  he  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things." 
A  belief  in  Jesus  overcomes  the  world  by  presenting  to  the 
view  the  glories  of  heaven,  and  this  world,  glorious  as  it  is, 
has  no  glory  "  by  reason  of  the  glory  that  excelleth." 
"  Whatsoever  is  born  of  God,  overcometh  the  world;  and  this 
is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 


SERMON  IV. 

SECRET    PRAYER. 

But  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet ;  and  when  thou  hast  shot 
thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret ;  and  thy  Father  which 
seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly.    Matthew  vi.  6. 

The  design  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount  is,  to  explain  and 
illustrate  Christian  character,  so  that  no  man  might  mistake 
the  nature  of  Christianity,  or  the  spirit  of  Christ's  kingdom. 
After  his  temptation  Jesus  began  to  preach,  "  Repent,  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand,"  "And  there  followed  him 
great  multitudes  of  people  from  Galilee,  and  from  DecapoHs, 
and  from  Jerusalem,  and  from  Judea,  and  from  beyond  Jor- 
dan." This  immense  multitude  needed  some  certain  informa- 
tion as  to  the  nature  of  this  kingdom,  and  the  character  of  its 
subjects.  "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand,"  and  the  natu- 
ral inquiry  was,  What  sort  of  a  kingdom  is  it  ?  The  sermon  on 
the  mount  is  the  answer  to  this  inquiry.  In  these  tliree  chap- 
ters, Jesus  has  shown  the  nature  of  that  kingdom,  and  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  its  subjects;  and  so  plain  that  "the  way- 
faring men,  though  fools,  shall  not  err  therein."  All  its  sub- 
jects are  poor  in  spirit,  and  meek,  and  pure,  and  peaceable ; 
reviled,  they  revile  not  again ;  persecuted,  they  suffer  it.  The 
law  of  God  is  in  their  heart — a  law  which  requires  purity  of 
motive  as  well  as  propriety  of  conduct.  They  are  the  light  of 
the  world,  and  the  salt  of  the  earth,  as  their  conduct  is  the 
acting  out  of  that  love  which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law.  De- 
votion to  God  is  combined  with  kindness  to  those  who  are 


SECRET    PRAYER.  57 

made  after  the  similitude  of  God.  There  was  no  command  to 
give  alms ;  this  was  a  duty  which  nature  itself  taught,  and 
which  all  acknowledged,  and,  as  to  the  outward  form,  many 
regarded.  His  command  is,  not  to  enforce  the  act,  but  to  reg- 
ulate the  manner  and  the  motive.  "  Take  heed  that  ye  do 
not  your  alms  before  men,  to  be  seen  of  them ;  otherwise  ye 
have  no  reward  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  Therefore, 
when  thou  doest  thine  alms,  do  not  sound  a  trumpet  before 
thee,  as  the  hypocrites  do,  in  the  synagogues,  and  in  the 
streets,  that  they  may  have  glory  of  men.  Yerily,  I  say  unto 
you,  they  have  their  reward.  But  when  thou  doest  alms,  let 
not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth ;  that  thine 
alms  may  be  in  secret :  and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret, 
himself  shall  reward  thee  openly."  The  trumpet  was  sounded 
professedly  to  call  the  people  together,  to  give  notice  to  the 
needy  that  distribution  was  to  be  made.  But  it  answered  the 
purpose  also  of  proclaiming  their  generosity.  They  saved  the 
trouble  of  seeking  out  the  distressed  and  purchased  the  credit 
of  liberality  at  a  cheap  rate. 

So  with  regard  to  prayer,  it  is  taken  for  granted  that  all 
pray,  or  at  least  acknowledge  the  obligation ;  he  says  nothing, 
therefore,  to  enforce  the  duty,  but  only  to  regulate  the  manner 
and  spirit  of  prayer.  When  thou  doest  alms,  let  it  not  be  to 
gain  the  credit  of  liberality,  or  to  appear  generous  to  men.  If 
that  be  your  object,  you  have  your  reward.  It  is  done  to  men, 
and  in  their  praise  and  approbation  you  have  your  reward — 
you  can  expect  nothing  of  God.  When  thou  prayest,  let  it 
not  be  to  gain  the  credit  of  talents,  or  sanctity,  or  of  deep  ex- 
perience, or  deep  humility.  Such  an  exhibition  men  may 
praise,  and  exclaim,  "How  devout,"  *'how  humble,"  or 
''  how  heavenly,"  but  God  abhors  it.     Men  may  call  it  an  ele- 


58  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

gant  prayer,  while  it  is  a  smoke  in  his  nostrils.  This  is  not 
designed  to  forbid  public  alms-giving,  or  public  prayer,  but 
ostentation  and  display.  What  is  good  in  deed,  ought  to  be 
good  in  manner  and  good  in  motive.  The  disciples  publicly 
sold  their  possessions,  and  laid  the  money  at  the  apostles'  feet ; 
and  distribution  was  publicly  made  as  every  man  had  need. 
So  contributions  were  publicly  made  for  the  poor  saints  at  Je- 
rusalem. Paul  prayed  publicly  by  the  seashore,  and  gave 
thanks  in  presence  of  a  ship's  company.  The  object  of  Jesus 
was,  not  to  appoint  the  place  or  posture  of  prayer,  but  to  ex- 
pose vanity  and  ostentation,  and  to  urge  his  followers  to  seek 
the  favor  of  God  rather  than  men;  and  what  they  did,  to  do  to 
God,  and  not  to  men.  "  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."  This  is  not  all  the  prayer  that  we  are 
required  to  offer.  It  is  only  one  part,  but  still  a  very  impor- 
tant part.  As  each  is  a  distinct  individual,  and  must  give  an 
account  of  himself  to  God,  it  is  manifestly  his  duty  and  interest 
to  plead  his  own  cause  before  the  throne  of  grace. 

As  2i  preparation  for  secret  prayer,  "  Enter  into  thy  closet, 
and  shut  the  door."  We  find  some  preparation  necessary  to 
appear  in  the  presence  of  those  who  are  high  in  honor  or  in 
office  on  earth — of  those  whom  we  respect,  and  whose  approba- 
tion we  desire  to  gain  or  secure.  Desiring  their  favor,  we  take 
pains  to  remove  all  that  is  offensive,  that  there  may  be  nothing 
on  our  part  to  interrupt  the  harmony.  If  this  is  but  respect- 
ful to  a  being  like  ourselves,  shall  we  rush  into  the  presence  of 
God?  Even  nature  itself  teaches  that  some  preparation  is 
necessary — time  to  collect  the  thoughts  and  calm  the  spirits — 
to  reflect  upon  the  character  and  claims  of  God,  and  our  stand- 


SECRET    PRAYER.  59 

ing  in  his  sight.  Enter  thy  closet,  and  shut  the  door.  Ex- 
clude all  company.  Be  literally  alone.  This  is  necessary  to 
collectedness  and  self-possession.  We  are  influenced  by  those 
about  us.  Their  presence  is  a  restraint  upon  freedom — affect- 
ing our  feelings,  and  modifying  our  expressions.  Besides 
there  are  confessions  to  be  made,  which  need  not,  and  ought 
not  to  meet  the  ear  of  a  human  being.  Our  most  secret 
thoughts  are  to  be  laid  open  and  reviewed  in  the  presence  of 
God — the  motives  by  which  we  have  been  actuated — the  great 
ends  which  we  have  in  view.  No  good  ends  can  be  answered 
by  revealing  all  these  particulars  to  men,  and  there  is  no  law 
that  requires  it.  But  nothing  should  be  kept  back,  when  we 
deal  with  the  Searcher  of  Hearts.  The  confession  will  not  be 
free  and  full  in  the  presence  of  others,  neither  will  the  petition. 
We  have  wants  and  temptations,  as  well  as  sins,  peculiar  to  our- 
selves ;  for  the  general  likeness  of  human  beings  does  not  de- 
stroy the  distinctions  of  independent  character.  Every  one  is 
a  complete  person  by  himself,  having  his  own  wants,  and  sins, 
and  temptations,  and  responsibilities.  Shut  the  door,  then. 
Exclude  all  company,  that  the  whole  may  be  a  matter  simply 
between  your  souls  and  God. 

Exclude  also  the  world.  We  are  connected  with  earth  as 
well  as  heaven,  and  the  appropriate  business  of  life  is  part  of 
our  training  for  the  world  to  come,  and  we  are  counted  worthy 
to  inherit  the  true  riches,  only  as  we  have  been  faithful  in  the 
unrighteous  mammon.  We  cannot  think  of  God  and  heaven 
every  moment  of  time,  any  more  than  a  man  on  his  journey 
home,  can  think  every  moment  of  home.  What  he  does  he 
must  do  with  his  might,  and  he  does  it  with  his  might  only  as 
his  mind  is  interested  in  it  and  fixed  upon  it.  But  his  mind 
constantly  fixed  upon  the  far  distant  end  must  overlook  present 


GO  KEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

duty.  "We  are  in  the  world,  and  must  perform  tlie  appropriate 
duties  of  the  world ;  and  we  can  do  so  only  as  we  think  of  the 
world.  But  we  need  seasons  of  retirement  and  reflection,  lest 
the  world  get  an  advantage  over  us,  and  from  a  servant  become 
our  master.  Enter  thy  closet  and  shut  the  door.  Exclude 
things  temporal,  that  the  mind  may  he  fully  impressed  with 
things  eternal.  The  world  is  a  scene  of  trial  as  well  as  of  duty. 
Arm  thyself  for  the  trial  by  immediate  and  direct  communion 
with  God.  Reflect  upon  his  glorious  character — his  plan  of 
salvation — the  weakness  and  wickedness  of  man. 

Thus  prepared,  pray  to  thy  Father  in  secret,  with  no  eye  to 
see  but  God's,  and  no  ear  to  hear  but  God's.  Here,  perhaps, 
is  the  best  trial  of  the  reality  of  our  piety.  In  the  congrega- 
tion and  the  prayer  meeting,  and  even  in  the  family,  the  pres- 
ence of  others  produces  excitement  and  affectation,  and  if  not 
the  presence  of  God,  at  least  their  presence  produces  some  de- 
gree of  earnestness.  We  may  have  no  faith  to  make  real  the 
presence  of  God,  but  the  presence  of  men  excites  and  animates. 
Alone,  if  we  have  no  faith  in  God,  it  is  literally  speaking  into 
the  air.  We  may  have  a  set  form,  and  go  through  its  regular 
round  regularly,  but  it  is  nothing  but  a  form,  and  the  dullest 
of  all  forms,  and  the  most  unmeaning.  AYithout  faith,  secret 
prayer  is  a  mere  form — is  nothing.  The  spirits  sink,  the  heart 
faints,  the  thoughts  wander,  and  even  the  tongue  seems  almost 
to  lose  all  power  of  utterance.  The  Father  is  in  secret,  and 
with  no  faith  to  give  evidence  of  things  unseen,  there  is  nothing 
to  excite  feelins;  and  concentrate  thought.  Faith  seems  to  be 
essential  even  to  the  external  performance.  "  He  that  cometh 
to  God,  must  believe  that  he  is,  and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of 
them  that  diligently  seek  him;  "  and  when  faith  is  lacking,  or 
vanishing,  it  is  first  of  all  manifest  here.     The  closet  has  no 


SECRET    PRAYER.  61 

attractions  for  secret  prayer — has  no  meaning.  Witli  many 
there  may  be  zeal  and  earnestness  to  speak  and  to  pray  in 
public,  but  when  they  retire  from  the  excitement  of  the  public 
gaze,  the  spirit  flags — and  the  higher  the  excitement  in  public, 
the  greater  the  depression  in  private.  There  is  nothing  they 
dread  so  much  as  to  be  alone,  for  they  find  nothing  so  insipid, 
They  have  what  may  be  called  a  social  religion,  and  if  human 
beings  were  to  be  saved  in  companies  or  in  masses,  their  pros- 
pects of  heaven  might  be  fair.  But  if,  as  the  fact  is,  salva- 
tion is  personal,  depending  upon  individual  belief  and  indi- 
vidual character,  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  they  have  no 
part  nor  lot  in  the  matter ;  as  they  have  nothing  to  excite  or 
animate  in  private — no  communion  with  God  in  solitude.  The 
individual  is  lost  in  the  crowd  and  lives  in  public.  In  his  re- 
pentance he  does  not  "  sit  alone,  and  keep  silence,  because  he 
hath  borne  it  upon  him," — his  faith  leads  to  no  communion 
with  God  in  private.  Forgetting  his  individuality,  he  is  just 
carried  with  the  current.  He  lives  upon  meetings,  and  ordi- 
nances, and  excitement,  and  when  these  fail,  all  thought  of  re- 
ligion and  hope  of  heaven  fail  with  them.  Here  is  the  origin, 
and  progress,  and  end  of  a  popular  religion.  When  there  is 
no  communion  with  the  Father  who  is  in  secret,  the  heart  is 
not  right  in  the  sight  of  God ;  for  there  is  no  faith  to  give  evi- 
dence of  things  unseen,  or  to  realize  the  presence  of  God. 
Nothing  but  faith  can  give  interest  to  private  prayer,  or  secure 
its  continuance.  "  Pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret,"  and 
pray  in  faith;  for  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  him. 
"  He  that  cometh  to  God,"  then,  "must  believe  that  he  is, 
and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him," 
for  in  this  world  he  can  come  to  God  in  no  other  way  but  by 

faith.     He  cannot  see  him.     "No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any 
6 


62  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

time,"  and  he  is  real  to  us,  only  as  we  believe  the  revelation 
which  he  has  made  of  himself. 

But  a  prayer  in  faith  will  also  be  a  prayer  in  humility  and 
reverence.  He  is  "of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  evil,  and 
cannot  look  on  iniquity."  "Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just 
than  God  ?  Shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Maker  ?  Behold 
he  puts  no  trust  in  his  servants,  and  his  angels  he  charged  with 
folly."  The  very  heavens  are  not  clean  in  his  sight.  How 
polluted,  then,  "  is  man,  which  drinketh  iniquity  like  water  !  " 
His  infinite  exaltation  and  glory  require  the  deepest  reverence, 
while  his  purity,  contrasted  with  our  pollution,  should  bring 
down  every  high  thought  of  ourselves.  "  I  saw,"  says  Isaiah, 
**  the  Lord  sitting  upon  a  throne  high  and  lifted  up," — and  he 
saw  him  only  by  a  strong  and  lively  faith,  which  "  is  the  sub- 
stance of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen," 
— "and  his  train  filled  the  temple.  Above  it  stood  the  Sera- 
phims ;  each  one  had  six  wings  ;  with  twain  he  covered  his 
face,  and  with  twain  he  covered  his  feet,  and  with  twain  he  did 
fly.  And  one  cfified  unto  another  and  said,  Holy,  holy,  holy 
is  the  Lord  of  hosts;  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory." 
Here  is  the  image  of  angelic  worship.  With  what  reverence 
and  holy  awe  do  they  worship !  How  then  should  a  sinner 
appear !  If  they  who  have  never  sinned  thus  adore  the  majes- 
ty on  high,  what  reverence  and  humility  become  us  !  Can  we 
trifle  with  the  name  of  God,  or  rush  into  his  presence  with 
coarse  familiarity  or  impudent  boldness  ? 

Yet  we  are  to  \)Y2iy  in  conjidence,  "For  he  is  a  rewarder 
of  them  that  diligently  seek  him."  "  He  giveth  liljerally  and 
upbraideth  not."  Through  Jesus  we  have  access  by  one  spirit 
unto  the  Father,  and  depending  upon  the  merits  of  his  sacrifice, 
we  enter  into  the  holiest  of  all,  l^y  the  faith  of  him.     The  very 


SECRET    PKAYER.  63 

name  of  Father  encourages  confidence,  while  the  sacrifice  he 
has  made,  and  the  invitations  he  has  given,  allure  our  hearts. 
He  that  cometh  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out ;  we  are  to  come 
emboldened  by  his  promises  and  expecting  their  fulfilment — 
remembering  there  is  something  to  be  accomplished  by  every 
prayer.  It  is  not  merely  a  duty  to  be  done,  and  done  with. 
"He  spake  a  parable  unto  them  to  this  end,  that  men  ought 
always  to  pray  and  not  to  faint ;  saying,  there  was  in  a  city  a 
judge,  which  feared  not  God,  neither  regarded  man.  And 
there  was  a  widow  in  that  city,  and  she  came  unto  him,  say- 
ing. Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary.  And  he  would  not  for  a 
while  ;  but  afterward  he  said  within  himself,  Though  I  fear  not 
God,  nor  regard  man,  yet  because  this  widow  troubleth  me,  I 
will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her  continual  coming  she  weary  me. 
And  the  Lord  said,  Hear  what  the  unjust  judge  saith.  And 
shall  not  God  avenge  his  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and  night 
unto  him,  though  he  bear  long  with  them  ?  I  tell  you  that  he 
will  avenge  them  speedily.  Nevertheless,  when  the  Son  of 
Man  cometh,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth  ?  "  A  cold  and 
tame  petition  is  asking  a  denial ;  for,  expecting  nothing,  we 
are  seldom  disappointed.  "  I  will  not  let  thee  go,"  said  the 
patriarch,  "  except  thou  bless  me." 

Nor  should  private  prayer  be  left  to  dejjencl  u'pon  circum- 
stances, or  to  any  time  that  may  be  found  convenient.  It  is 
far  better  to  have  fixed  times  and  regular  seasons  for  prayer, 
and  instead  of  leaving  so  important  a  matter  to  circumstances, 
as  far  as  possible  to  control  the  circumstances.  There  may  be 
extraordinary  seasons,  when  much  time  may  be  requisite.  On 
one  occasion  Jacob  spent  all  night  in  prayer.  So  did  the 
Savior ;  and  Paul  once  preached  till  midnight.  But  these  ex- 
traordinary seasons  come  only  at  remote  intervals.     They  are 


64  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

not  matters  of  calculation.  The  circumstances  made  the  neces- 
sity. But  the  ordinary  seasons  may  be  matters  of  calculation, 
and  ought  to  be.  He  that  makes  private  prayer  a  matter  of 
conscience,  will  not  leave  the  time  uncertain.  He  will  delight 
himself  in  the  Almighty,  and  always  call  upon  him. 

Pray  to  thy  Father  which  seeth  in  secret.  Unknown  to 
men,  it  is  all  known  to  him,  and  it  cannot  be  overlooked  or 
forgotten.  He  knows  our  down-sitting  and  our  up-rising,  and 
every  prayer  is  registered  in  his  book  ;  and  even  that  which 
has  not  assumed  form  and  body,  has  a  real  existence  with  him. 
We  are  sometimes  brought  into  straits,  so  that  we  know  not 
what  to  pray  for  as  we  ought.  But  "  the  Spirit  also  helpeth 
our  infirmities.  .  .  .  "  The  Spirit  itself  maketh  intercession 
for  us  with  groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered.  And  he  that 
searcheth  the  hearts  knoweth  what  is  the  mind  of  the  Spirit." 

"  Our  secret  groanings  reach  his  ear." 

There  is  no  languao-e — there  is  no  audible  or  visible  manifesta- 
tion,  but  it  reaches  the  eye  and  the  ear  of  God ;  for  he  is  pres- 
ent with  the  heart,  and  knows  all  its  workings. 

Thy  Father  shall  reward  thee.  This  reward  is  given  in  va- 
rious ways  and  forms  in  the  present  life,  for  it  is  not  a  vain 
thing  to  serve  God,  nor  is  prayer  without  profit.  No  man  can 
hold  habitual  communion  with  God  without  experiencing  its 
benefits.  It  gives  him  clearer  views  of  the  truth.  "  The  se- 
cret of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him  ;  and  he  will  show 
them  his  covenant."  If  "he  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall 
be  wise,"  how  much  more  shall  he  that  holds  habitual  commun- 
ion with  God  ?  The  corrupt  affections  are  worn  away  by  the 
power  of  prayer;  and,  beholding  the  glory  of  God,  he  is 
changed  into  his  image.     He  is  saved  from  grievous  mistakes 


SECRET    PRAYER.  65 

in  judgment,  and  fatal  errors  in  practice.  Tliere  is  an  extent 
of  information  upon  religious  subjects,  and  a  fixedness  of  prin- 
ciple, which  give  a  symmetry  and  consistency  to  his  character. 
We  sometimes  find  men  of  very  limited  powers,  and  limited  in- 
formation upon  other  subjects,  with  a  knowledge  and  tact  in  re- 
ligious things  that  is  astonishing.  They  have  an  unction  from 
the  Holy  One,  and  know  all  things ;  and  they  owe  their  knowl- 
edge and  their  aptness  in  religious  things  to  habitual  commun- 
ion with  God.  They  are  not  only  wise  unto  salvation,  but 
have  a  peculiar  tact  at  communicating  that  wisdom.  As  they 
have  power  with  God  and  prevail,  so  they  are  fitted  to  prevail 
with  men,  and  they  turn  many  to  righteousness.  Showing 
forth  the  praise  of  Him  who  has  called  them  to  glory  and  virtue, 
they  are  rewarded  in  being  made  an  eminent  blessing  to  their 
fellow  men.  They  are  rewarded  in  still  higher  and  higher  en- 
joyment. "  We  are  saved  by  hope,"  and  by  habitual  commun- 
ion with  God,  that  hope  becomes  as  an  "  anchor  to  the  soul,  both 
sure  and  steadfast,"  and  an  earnest  of  the  heavenly  inher- 
itance ;  for  to  them  that  ask,  it  shall  be  given,  and  they  that 
seek  shal]  find. 

*'  He  shall  reward  thee  openly. ^^  The  prayer  is  in  secret, 
and  the  reward  here  on  earth  is  partly  so,  for  praying  people 
are  God's  hidden  ones.  The  world  know  them  not,  as  they 
know  not  their  Master.  "  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of 
God,  and  it  doth  not  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  but  we  know 
that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall 
see  him  as  he  is."  Jesus,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  offered  up 
supplications  and  prayers  with  strong  crying  and  tears,  to 
him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death ;  and  he  is  crowned 
with  glory  and  honor  and  immortality,  and  so  shall  they  be. 
He  has  entered  heaven  as  the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  their 
6* 


66  TvEv.  D.  Merrill's  ser^ioxs. 

profession,  and  he  is  but  their  forerunner.  His  entrance  is  an 
assurance  of  theirs.  "  Then  shall  ye  return,  and  discern  be- 
tween the  righteous  and  the  wicked,  between  him  that  serveth 
God,  and  him  that  serveth  him  not."  Let  no  man  say,  "  It  is 
vain  to  serve  God,"  or,  "What  profit  shall  we  have,  if  we 
pray  unto  him."  Here  is  a  service  which  insures  an  abundant 
recompense.  "Enter  into  thy  closet  and  shut  the  door,  and 
pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret ;  and  thy  Father  that 
seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly."  It  is  a  reward, 
though  it  is  of  gi-ace,  not  of  debt ;  for  what  merit  can  there  be 
in  asking  ?  and  what  goodness  can  there  be  equal  to  this, — to 
give  what  we  ask,  and  even  more  than  we  ask,  and  even  to  re- 
ward the  asking  itself  ?  How  blessed  to  serve  a  being  who 
places  prayers  in  the  number  of  services  !  and  reckons  to  the 
account  of  his  servants  their  very  trust  and  confidence  in  ask- 
ing all  things  of  him !  What  is  done  is  secret  is  openly  ac- 
knowledged and  recompensed.  Here,  then,  is  a  resource  at 
all  times  and  under  all  circumstances.  Art  thou  tempted? 
Enter  thy  closet  and  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret,  and 
you  shall  not  be  tempted  above  that  which  you  are  able  to 
bear,  but  he  will  provide  a  way  of  escape,  or  strength  to  resist 
it.  Art  thou  in  want  ?  Pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  se- 
cret, and  he  shaU  supply  all  your  wants  out  of  his  abundant 
fulness.  Do  fears  and  sins,  prevailing,  rise  ?  He  knows  your 
frame.  He  remembers  you  are  but  dust.  "  Like  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him." 
Do  depression  and  gloom  cover  your  mind?  "  Who  is  among 
you  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the  voice  of  his  servant, 
that  walketh  in  darkness,  and  hath  no  light  ?  let  him  trust  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  "Is  any  among  you  afflicted?  let  him 
pray."     "  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  who 


SECRET    PEAYER.  67 

giveth  liberally  to  all  men  and  upbraideth  not."  He  is  more 
ready  to  give  his  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him,  than  earthly 
parents  are  to  give  good  gifts  to  their  children.  "  Enter  into 
thy  closet  and  shut  the  door,  and  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in 
secret;"  "then  shall  thy  light  break  forth  as  the  morning, 
and  thy  health  shall  spring  forth  speedily,"  yea,  *'  thy  light 
shall  rise  in  obscurity,  and  thy  darkness  be  as  the  noonday." 
In  every  season  of  doubt  and  perplexity,  and  in  every  season 
of  danger  and  distress,  pray  to  thy  Father  that  is  in  secret. 
"  The  name  of  the  Lord  is  a  strono;  tower."  "  The  Lord  shall 
be  unto  thee  an  everlasting  light,  and  thy  God  thy  glory." 

Shall  we  wait  till  perplexities  arise,  and  dangers  threaten  ? 
Is  it  not  far  better  by  prayer  to  anticipate  the  evil,  and  seek  and 
secure  the  protection  of  God  when  all  things  go  well  with  us  ? 
that  when  the  rains  descend,  and  the  floods  come,  and  the  winds 
blow, — as  at  one  time  or  another  they  will, — we  may  have  a 
permanent  shelter  and  protection  ?  And  yet,  how  many  never 
pray ;  or,  at  best,  make  no  conscience  of  prayer !  In  some 
distressing  emergency  a  prayer  is  forced  from  them,  but  they 
have  no  regular  seasons  of  prayer,  and  month  after  month 
passes  away  without  communion  with  God.  For  a  gTeat  por- 
tion of  their  lives  they  cast  off  fear  and  restrain  prayer.  They 
acknowledge  the  duty,  perhaps,  and  yet  never,  or  scarcely 
ever  attempt  to  perform  it.  They  forsake  their  own  mercies, 
and  count  themselves  unworthy  of  eternal  life ;  for  if  they  have 
no  communion  with  God  here,  how  shall  they  behold  his  glory 
or  rejoice  in  his  presence  hereafter  ?  Every  situation  in  life, 
the  circumstances  of  every  day,  demand  continual  application 
to  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  all  the  objections  which  ever  were 
or  can  be  brought  against  frequent  and  fervent  prayer,  are 
included  in  one  great  fact — estrangement  of  heart  from  the 


68  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

source  of  all  good.  We  love  to  think,  and  talk,  and  have  in- 
tercourse with  objects,  just  in  proportion  as  they  are  objects  of 
interest  and  affection.  Prayer  is  insipid  or  repulsive  only  to 
those  who  have  said  in  their  hearts,  "  Depart  from  us  ;  for  we 
desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways."  He  who  never  prays, 
whatever  else  he  may  do,  needs  no  other  evidence  that  he  is 
still  in  a  state  of  condemnation ;  and  he  who  prays  but  seldom, 
can  have  no  satisfactory  evidence  that  he  is  reconciled  to  God. 
It  is  said  of  the  Israelites,  "When  he  slew  them,  then  they 
sought  him ;  and  they  returned,  and  inquired  early  after  God. 
And  they  remembered  that  God  was  their  Rock,  and  the  high 
God  their  Redeemer.  Nevertheless,  they  did  flatter  him  with 
their  mouth,  and  they  lied  unto  him  with  their  tongues.  For 
their  heart  was  not  right  with  him,  neither  were  they  steadfast 
in  his  covenant."  There  was  no  delight  in  God.  They  prayed 
as  the  heathen  oflfer  sacrifices  to  the  evil  spirit — ^from  fear ;  or 
as  the  prophet  says,  "  Lord,  in  trouble  have  they  visited  thee  ; 
they  poured  out  a  prayer  when  thy  chastening  was  upon  them." 
There  is  nothing  more  necessary,  and  nothing  that  commends 
itself  more  strongly  to  every  man's  conscience,  than  prayer. 
And  how  will  you  answer  to  God,  if  it  be  neglected?  He  has 
said,  "Pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret,  and  thy  Father 
which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly,"  and  you  had 
no  confidence  in  his  word,  and  you  would  not  pray.  He  has 
said,  "Whosoever  shall  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord,  shall 
be  saved,"  and  you  would  not,  and  did  not  call  upon  his  name. 
He  has  said,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive,"  and  you  received 
not  because  you  asked  not.  The  noblest  privileges,  the  richest 
blessings  were  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  and  you  did  not  ask.  A 
price  was  put  into  your  hands  to  get  wisdom,  but  you  had  no 
heart  to  it. 


SERMON  V. 

UNSUCCESSFUL  SEEKING  FOR  HEAVEN. 

For  many,  I  say  unto  you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able. 
Luke  xiii.  24. 

In  the  constitution  and  government  of  the  -world,  God  has 
given  no  encouragement  to  idleness.  If  any  man  would  be 
rich,  or  honored,  or  intelligent,  he  does  not  become  so  by  merely 
wishing ;  his  present  exertions  are  necessary.  And  so  if  he 
would  be  wise  unto  salvation,  he  must  strive  for  that  wisdom ; 
or  rich  toward  God,  or  honored  in  the  presence  of  his  holy 
angels,  he  must  do  something  more  than  wish.  He  must  put 
forth  his  wishes  into  living,  visible  action.  When  we  talk  of 
the  things  of  this  world,  and  tell  you  they  are  not  yours  with- 
out your  exertions,  you  understand  perfectly  what  we  mean, 
and  your  own  hearts  respond  to  it.  We  are  met  everywhere 
by  a  ready  and  joyous  assent ;  but  when  we  talk  of  the  glories 
of  the  future  world,  and  tell  you  on  what  conditions  they  may 
be  yours,  we  receive  indeed  your  assent — a  cold,  sleepy  assent. 
No  eye  looks  bright,  no  countenance  sparkles  with  joy  at  the 
prospect.  None  show  by  look  or  by  deed,  the  resolution — 
these  glories  shall  be  ours.  When  we  say,  too,  that  the  man 
of  a  thousand  purposes,  forever  resolving  and  yet  never  fixed, 
makes  no  advance  with  his  forces  scattered  and  weakened  in 
proportion  to  the  wideness  of  their  dispersion — that,  with  forces 
powerful  if  concentrated  on  any  one  object,  he  is  the  weakest 
of  the  weak  as  it  is,  and  warn  you  to  shun  his  example,  you 


70  REV.    D.    3IERIIILL's    SERMONS. 

feel  the  force  of  the  warning ;  for  you  see  that  though  he  has 
the  powers  of  a  giant,  they  are  yet  so  scattered  that  a  child 
may  overcome  him. 

But  when  we  apply  this  case  to  yourselves,  and  tell  you  that 
while  your  affections  and  your  exertions  have  no  fixed,  definite 
object,  but  are  scattered  here  and  there,  you  can  accomplish 
nothing — you  are  the  weakest  of  the  weak — you  perhaps  agree 
to  it  in  word,  but  have  no  feeling  of  its  truth.  With  your 
weakness  demonstrated  before  you,  and  how  you  may  become 
strong,  you  go  on  exhibiting  proof  after  proof  of  weakness  and 
imbecility.  You  love  heaven  a  little,  and  are  perhaps  willing 
to  make  some  little  exertion  to  get  tliere.  But  then,  you  love 
a  great  many  other  things,  which  are  not  merely  independent 
of  the  love  of  heaven,  but  inconsistent  with  it.  You  love  your- 
selves, the  praise  of  men,  pleasure,  money,  ease,  earthly  good 
things.  You  make  exertions  to  obtain  all  these.  You  would 
go  to  heaven  full-handed — take  all  of  gratification  you  can  find 
here,  and  then  take  the  remainder  in  heaven ;  so  that  though 
heaven  has  some  place  in  your  affections,  it  stands  last  on  the 
list.  And  I  appeal  to  you  whether  you  do  not  make  abun- 
dantly more  exertions  to  obtain  any  of  these  things,  than  to 
obtain  heaven.  Shall  ye  then  enter  heaven  ?  What !  with  all 
these  scattered  affections,  with  all  these  earthly  desires  and 
earthly  hopes,  and  after  all  this  striving  for  earthly  things  ? 
To  make  it  any  heaven  to  you,  all  these  things  which  you  love 
must  be  there — men  to  praise  you — pleasure  to  revel  in — or 
money  to  lay  up — or  beds  for  ease — or  earthly  good  things  to 
seek  after.  Verily,  if  you  are  found  with  affections  fixed  upon 
such  objects,  you  may  "  seek  to  enter  in,  but  shall  not  be 
able."  Christ  commands  you  to  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate.     There  is  something  worth  striving  for,  and  there  is  also 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING   FOR    IIEAYEN.  71 

some  real  difficulty  in  the  case, — enough  to  call  for  our  utmost 
exertion. 

Our  Savior,  for  our  admonition,  has  forewarned  us  that  many 
shall  seek  to  enter  in,  but  shall  not  be  able.  Who  are  these, 
and  why  will  they  not  be  able  to  enter  ?  Our  Savior  has  told 
us  that  there  are  many  such — not  merely  here  and  there  one, 
but  many.  And  he  has  pictured  before  us  in  some  measure 
the  awfulness  of  their  disappointment — for  they  confidently  ex- 
pected that  they  should  be  able  to  enter — had  good  hopes  of 
themselves — and  were  sure  that  whoever  might  be  excluded, 
they  should  enter,  without  question  or  difficulty.  Who  are 
they  ?  Our  Savior  has  given  us  some  clue  to  their  character, 
and  has  also  told  us  to  what  they  owe  their  exclusion — loant 
of  exertion — ill-directed  exertion,  or  ill-timed  exertion.  They 
did  not  strive  enough,  or  they  did  not  strive  in  the  proper 
manner,  or  at  the  allotted  time,  and  this  last  seems  to  have 
been  the  principal  cause  of  their  ruin.  They  began  to  feel 
strongly,  and  to  exert  themselves  much  when  it  was  too  late — 
after  the  day  was  past,  and  the  door  of  hope  shut. 

Probably  every  living  man  has  some  kind  of  an  expectation 
that  it  will  be  well  with  him  after  death — that  he  either  is  safe 
already,  or  that  he  will  arrange  that  matter  before  he  dies. 
No  man  expects  to  go  to  hell,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  be 
excluded  from  heaven.  But  a  great  many  will  be  excluded, 
of  whom  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  they  ever  sought  to  enter, 
for  seeking  implies  some  kind  of  exertion  ;  and  how  many  have 
lived  and  died  without  making  any  exertions  to  get  there,  and 
whose  frail  hope  of  heaven  was  built  on  something  which  they 
were  to  do,  but  never  did..  Such  will  not  be  condemned  by 
this  text. 

This  text  condemns  those  who  have  actually  done  something, 


72  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

but  not  enough;  and  I  must  think  it  refers  particularly  to 
professors  of  religion.  For  who  are  so  likely  to  use  some 
exertion  as  they,  and  who  but  they  should  feel  so  safe,  or  speak 
so  confidently  ?  A  man  who  has  never  come  out  from  the 
world  and  joined  a  Christian  society,  may  make  some  exertion 
and  feel  confident  of  his  good  state ;  but  having  never  acknowl- 
edged his  Savior  before  men,  it  seems  hardly  possible  that  he 
should  have  the  assurance  to  come  up  to  the  door  with  any- 
thing like  a  confident  expectation  of  admittance.  But  the  plea 
of  those  mentioned  in  the  text  seems  to  imply  that  they  had 
been  numbered  among  the  avowed,  open  followers  of  the  Lord 
Jesus.  Many  who  have  sought  and  actually  obtained  entrance 
into  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  or  into  the  visible  church, 
shall  seek  to  enter  heaven  and  shall  not  be  able.  Weighed  in 
the  balances,  they  shall  be  found  wanting.  They  do  not  strive 
enough.  There  are  a  great  many  professors  of  religion.  The 
church  is  a  kind  of  net  which  encloses  all  sorts.  Though  in 
general  some  kind  of  attention  is  paid  to  keeping  out  the  worst 
characters,  they  will  find  an  entrance  almost  whenever  they 
choose.  By  an  outward  reformation,  or  an  appearance  of  zeal, 
or  a  thousand  hypocritical  pretences,  they  impose  upon  men. 
Men  may  call  them  good  Christians,  and  eminently  pious,  when 
God  sees  in  them  nothing  but  rottenness  and  corruption. 
Men  take  it  for  granted  that  they  are  pious,  because  they  are 
professors  of  religion ;  and  the  good  opinion  of  men  casts  out 
doubts  and  fears,  confirms  their  assurance,  and  they  too  take  it 
for  granted  that  they  are  fair  candidates  for  heaven.  They 
know  they  indulge  habitually  in  some  sins,  but  they  are  not 
of  the  disreputable  kind.  They  habitually  neglect  some  du- 
ties, but  it  is  not  generally  known.  The  outside  is  somewhat 
spotted,  but  then,  there  are  spots  on  the  sun.     They  are  to  a 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING    FOR    HEAVEN.  73 

considerable  extent  free  from  outbreaking  vices,  and  exhibit  oc- 
casionally a  few  flashes  of  zeal.  And  this  is  about  the  sum 
and  substance  of  their  religion.  It  is  not  enough.  We  will 
not  inquire  how  they  became  members  of  the  church — how 
'they  felt,  or  how  they  thought  they  felt  at  that  time  ;  for  it  is 
not  our  design  to  charge  this  large  class  of  dead  professors  with 
wilful  hypocrisy — with  pretending  to  feel  what  they  at  the  same 
time  knew  they  never  felt,  and  taking  vows  which  they  never 
meant  to  perform.  But  we  will  look  at  them  as  professors  of 
religion, — no  matter  how  they  became  such, — ^judge  of  the  tree 
as  it  stands,  Vy  its  fruit.  There  are  so  many  of  this  kind,  so 
much  alike  and  yet  so  different,  that  I  hardly  know  which  kind 
of  character  to  hold  up  before  you. 

Some  are  very  accommodating — in  Rome  do  as  Romans — men 
in  whom  there  is  nothing  fixed — neither  principle  nor  feeling  of 
religion — whose  character  assumes  its  hue  from  surrounding 
objects.  In  the  company  of  the  pious,  they  are  very  pious ; 
in  the  world,  they  are  of  the  world.  They  become  "  all  things 
to  all  men," — not,  like  Paul,  to  .save  some, — but  to  gain  the 
good  opinion  of  all.  When  religion  is  in  repute,  they  are  very 
religious, — none  more  zealous,  none  more  devoted,  none  willing 
to  go  greater  lengths  in  the  outside  of  religion.  They  can  with 
much  rejoicing  follow  Christ  through  good  report.  But  let 
iniquity  abound,  and  the  love  of  many  wax  cold,  and  the  cause 
of  religion  appears  to  wane,  and  they  float  with  the  tide.  The 
stream  of  this  world  carries  them  on,  and  zeal,  for  religion  is 
gone.  They  can  see  its  ordinances  neglected,  its  holy  day 
profaned,  its  life  and  its  beauty  fade  away,  and  shed  no  tear 
over  its  ruin,  and  oflfer  no  prayer  for  its  revival.  There  is  no 
consistency  in  their  exertions,  no  permanency  in  their  zeal,  no 
life  and  power  in  their  religious  feeling.  They  arc  regularly 
7 


74  RET.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

revived  in  every  revival,  and  decline  in  every  declension.  The 
heaven  which  they  seek  is  no  fixed,  definite  object ;  it  is  a 
flickering  blaze,  which  seems  bright  when  religious  prospects 
are  bright,  and  dim  when  religious  prospects  are  dim.  They 
seek  they  know  not  what.  For  had  they  any  foretaste  of  the 
object — did  they  credit  the  Bible's  report  of  heaven — could 
they  feel  the  same  languor,  the  same  drowsiness  ?  could  they  be 
satisfied  with  consenting  to  all  that  is  good,  and  doing  next  to 
nothing  that  is  good  ?  Yerily,  they  must  seek  to  enter  into 
heaven  with  more  ardor,  or  they  will  hardly  make  men  believe 
that  they  have  any  intention  of  going  there  ;  ancj  if  you  cannot 
even  impose  upon  men  in  this  matter,  how  will  you  stand  be- 
fore the  Searcher  of  hearts  ? 

But  besides  these  who  exhil)it  no  ardor  except  when  all  is 
ardent  about  them,  who  are  warm  or  cold,  they  know  not  why, 
there  is  another  class  who  it  would  seem  are  on  principle  ojj- 
jjosed  to  all  ardor,  to  all  zealous,  earnest  striving  to  enter  into 
heaven — a  cold,  calculating  race  of  speculating  men,  who  have 
carried  knowledge  far  beyond  practice,  or  rather,  whose  specu- 
lative knowledge  has  given  a  death  blow  to  all  zeal,  except  it 
be  a  zeal  for  rigid  doctrine.  They  will  hardly  allow  a  man  to 
be  zealously  affected  even  in  a  good  thing,  or  rather,  I  would 
say,  w^ill  hardly  admit  any  thing  to  be  a  good  thing  that  is  out 
of  the  pale  of  their  order — heads  thoroughly  orthodox,  and 
hearts  stone — so  afraid  of  wild  fire  as  to  cast  out  all  fire.  Zeal 
is  enthusiasm,  and  exulting  hope  is  frenzy,  and  a  trembling  in 
view  of  the  wrath  of  God  is  a  causeless  terror.  They  have  re- 
fined and  refined,  till  all  spirit  is  gone,  and  nothing  remains 
but  a  well-proportioned  form.  But  they  must  do  something 
more  than  speculate,  something  more  than  hold  fast  a  form  of 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING    FOR    UEAYEN.  75 

sound  words,    "  for  as  the  body  without  the  spu-it  is  dead,  so 
faith  without  works  is  dead  also." 

There  are  a  great  many  stichlers  for  forms,  who,  beyond  all 
question,  are  Congregationalists,  or  Methodists,  or  Baptists,  but 
who  leave  it  very  doubtful  whether  they  are  Christians.  Now, 
if  any  of  these  names  were  the  pass-word,  they  would  be  safe 
enough ;  but  as  it  is,  there  is  great  danger  that  such,  however 
confident  they  may  be,  "  shall  seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not 
be  able."  For  what  have  they  done  to  honor  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  or  to  show  forth  the  glory  of  his  grace  ?  Who  has 
taken  knowledge  of  them  that  they  have  been  with  Jesus,  and 
before  whose  eyes  have  they  exhibited  the  power  of  religion  ? 
Their  exertions  are  ill  directed.  And  this  is  the  ruin  of  many 
— zeal  without  knowledge.  This  is  indeed  wild  fire.  It  is  a 
zeal  about  religion,  but  unaccompanied  by  an  enlightened  un- 
derstanding and  a  heart  to  know  the  truth  ;  it  is  a  zeal  about 
they  know  not  what — names  or  forms.  They  mistake  almost 
everything ;  light  and  darkness,  good  and  evil,  bitter  and  sweet 
are  commingled.  Like  the  man  whose  eyes  Jesus  partially 
opened,  they  see  everything  indistinctly — men,  as  trees,  walk- 
ing. And  in  spiritual  things  they  can  hardly  tell  a  man  from 
a  tree.  The  information  which  God  has  given  us  in  his  word 
has  never  found  a  lodgment  in  their  understandings.  They 
want  a  guide — a  light  to  their  feet  and  a  lamp  to  their  path. 
Without  this  their  zeal  will  waste  itself  in  the  air,  and  leave 
them  exhausted,  or  be  like  the  madman's  casting  abroad  fire- 
brands, arrows  and  death.  Zeal,  unless  directed  to  the  proper 
object,  will  be  unprofitable  and  injurious  to  themselves.  They 
strive  hard  enough,  but  it  is  not  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate, 
for  without  some  knowledge  they  cannot  tell  where  the  strait 
gate  is,  or  how  they  can  enter — what  they  must  believe  of  it, 


76  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

or  what  life  they  must  lead  in  their  way  to  it.  They  have  zeal 
enough.  Zeal  for  what  ?  They  cannot  tell.  They  have  seen 
something,  but  they  cannot  describe  it :  they  have  heard  some- 
thing, but  they  have  no  definite  idea  of  it — a  vague,  uncertain 
rumor.  Zeal  enough  ;  but  it  has  no  knowledge  to  direct  it,  and 
no  definite  conceptions  to  support  it ;  no  wonder  it  is  as  use- 
less as  it  is  short-lived.  Zeal  enouo-h  to  take  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  by  force,  if  it  was  enlightened  enough  to  know  where 
and  how  to  make  the  attack. 

Much  as  we  deprecate  zeal  without  knowledge  (and  we  must 
declare  it  to  be  utterly  unprofitable)  we  do  equally  lift  up  our 
voice  against  hiowledge  ivithout  zeal ;  and  declare  it  to  be 
more  utterly  without  the  shadow  of  reason,  than  zeal  without 
knowledge.  Both  are  unprofitable.  But  the  knowledge  with- 
out zeal  is  utterly  inexcusable  ;  a  more  high-handed  rebellion, 
a  more  heaven-daring  insult  than  the  other  can  be.  What ! 
Shall  a  man  know  all,  and  acknowledge  all,  and  feel  nothing  ? 
Shall  he  read  the  Bible  as  he  would  any  other  book,  merely 
for  information,  and  talk  about  it  as  if  he  had  nothinsr  to  do 
with  it  but  talk  about  it  ?  Are  its  doctrines  and  its  precepts 
nothing  to  him  ?  Or  has  he  nothing  to  do  but  to  know  his 
Master's  will  ?  And  knows  he  not  what  the  end  will  be  of 
those  who  know  and  do  not  ? 

There  is,  or  there  may  be,  zeal  enough.  There  is  no  man 
who  is  not  capable  of  being  excited  to  the  proper  pitch.  But 
an  enlightened,  well-directed  zeal,  which  alone  is  of  use,  where 
shall  it  be  found  ?  It  must  be  found,  or  no  man  will  enter 
heaven  ?  Every  man  has  zeal — zeal  for  a  particular  doctrine, 
zeal  in  a  particular  cause,  zeal  for  his  party,  zeal  against  zeal. 
The  Jews  were  zealous  for  forms  and  ceremonies.  Saul  of 
Tarsus  was  zealous  in  opposing  Christianity.     Many  a  man 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING    FOR   HEAVEN.  77 

now  is  zealous  to  be  rich,  or  to  gain  success  to  his  party,  or  to 
put  down  those  who  oppose  it,  or  to  advance  his  particular  sen- 
timents. But  who  is  zealous  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  ? 
Who  is  zealous  to  secure  his  soul's  everlasting  salvation,  and 
for  that  purpose  makes  a  rigid  application  of  the  appointed 
means?  Lives  with  heaven  in  his  view,  and  for  the  sake 
of  a  better  world  has  abjured  this — crucified  the  world,  with  its 
affections  and  lusts,  and  looks  upon  heaven  as  his  home  ?  Who 
looks  upon  the  cause  of  Christ  as  the  noblest  of  all  causes,  and 
proves  it  by  a  diligent  seeking  of  those  things  that  are  above  ? 
How  much  labor  is  spent,  and  how  much  zeal  is  wasted  upon 
things  that  cannot  profit !  And  how  hardly  shall  those  to 
whom  heaven  has  evidently  been  but  a  secondary  object  in  this 
world,  enter  into  it  at  last,  when  at  best  they  have  had  a  thou- 
sand objects  of  delight  independent  of  heaven,  and  have  never 
made  a  serious  effort  to  disencumber  themselves.  "  Lay  aside 
every  weight,"  was  the  direction  of  Paul  to  those  who  were 
setting  out  for  heaven,  and  yet  how  many  are  loading  them- 
selves with  a  heavier  and  heavier  burden,  weakening  their  pow- 
ers and  wearing  out  their  strength,  so  that  they  must  to  all 
human  appearance  fall  to  rise  no  more,  long  before  they  have 
arrived  at  the  goal.  And  should  they  arrive  there  with  all 
their  burden,  it  is  a  strait  gate  they  cannot  enter,  and  this  is 
the  ruin  of  many.  They  were  zealous  for  heaven,  but  also 
zealous  for  other  things.  They  were  not  satisfied  with  saving 
their  souls,  they  must  save  their  possessions,  and  save  their 
sins.  They  would  save  too  much.  They  would  not  give  up 
enough.  They  sought  to  enter  in  but  were  not  able,  for  the 
gate  was  too  narrow  to  admit  them.  Had  they  used  their  efforts 
to  disentangle  themselves  from  the  world,  had  their  zeal  been 
to  cast  off,  rather  than  put  on,  they  might  have  entered  safely. 
#7 


/5  REV.    D.    MERKILL  S    SERMONS. 

But  in  their  arclor  for  saving,  they  lost  all.  They  might  have 
known  all  this  before.  Christ  has  forewarned  us,  "Whoso- 
ever will  save  his  life,  shall  lose  it."  He  has  told  us  the 
effects  of  the  cares  of  this  world  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches, 
and  has  warned  us  not  to  be  careful  and  troubled  about  many 
things — that  one  thing  is  needful.  But  they  learned  it  not 
until  it  was  too  late.  Alas  I  how  many  have  been  deceived  in 
this  way,  and  like  Balaam  perish  at  last  in  their  own  corrup- 
tions. Their  hope  of  heaven  was  once  fair  and  briglit,  but 
they  have  sunk  from  a  heaven  in  hope  to  a  liell  in  reality. 
They  added  house  to  house,  field  to  field,  pleasure  to  pleasure 
and  honor  to  honor,  till  they  were  too  heavy  laden. 

As  many  shall  fail  for  want  of  exertion,  and  many  more  for 
want  of  well-directed  exertion,  so  many  shall  fail  for  want  of 
v: ell-timed  exertion.  A  professor  of  religion  has  some  induce- 
ments to  listlessness  peculiar  to  himself.  A  man  who  is  out  of 
the  pale  of  the  church  is  looked  upon  and  looks  upon  himself 
as  yet  in  an  unsafe  state.  He  knows,  when  he  thinks  at  all, 
that  there  is  something  yet  to  be  done — some  change  must  be 
wrought  in  him  before  he  can  have  a  serious  consciousness  of 
perfect  security,  and  when  he  is  addressed  from  the  pulpit  as  a 
sinner,  he  cannot  but  know  that  he  is  meant,  and  when  he 
reads  the  fate  of  sinners  in  the  Bible,  he  can  hardly  help  think- 
ing sometimes  that  it  is  the  ftite  of  just  such  as  himself.  But 
the  professor  of  religion  has  already  passed  over  all  this  matter. 
The  change  has  been  effected,  and  when  sinners  are  called  to 
repentance  it  is  nothing  to  him,  he  has  repented  already.  The 
arrows  of  conviction  strike  him  not ;  he  has  a  shield  and  a  de- 
fence. He  reads  of  the  vengeance  coming  upon  the  ungodly; 
it  is  nothing  to  him,  he  is  not  of  the  company.  He  is  within 
the  ark,  and  let  the  floods  come — asleep  or  awake,  idle  or  busy, 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING    FOR   HEAVEN.  id 

ho  is  equally  secure.  That  something  like  this  is  the  feolino' 
of  many  professors  of  religion,  there  is  too  much  reason  to  fear. 
They  have  been  through  a  course  of  what  they  are  pleased  to 
call  conviction  and  conversion.  They  have  felt  horror,  and 
then  they  have  felt  joy.  They  are  now  on  board,  their  passage 
paid,  and  doing  or  not  doing  the  vessel  goes  on,  bearing  them 
with  it  to  a  better  world.  0,  fools  and  blind  !  know  ye  not 
that  many  shall  seek  to  enter  into  heaven,  and  shall  not  be 
able  ?  And  who  so  likely  to  be  of  that  number,  as  you  who 
make  your  very  experience  an  encouragement  to  disobedience, 
and  shout  "grace,  grace,"  over  cherished  iniquity?  You  are 
safe,  and  so  have  leisure  to  be  wicked.  He  that  loveth  God 
"  purifieth  himself  even  as  he  is  pure."  "Not  as  though  I  had 
already  attained,"  is  the  language  of  the  great  apostle.  He  was 
not  satisfied.  He  did  not  sit  down,  counting  over  old  experi- 
ences. He  looked  at  what  was  to  be  done,  and  set  about  it ; 
and  if  you  would  imitate  him  now,  in  season,  you  would  find 
the  advantage  of  it  at  another  day.  Exertion  you  will  make, 
but  it  may  be  at  too  late  a  day,  after  the  door  of  hope  is  shut 
and  your  destiny  irrevocably  fixed,  and  the  voice  of  him  who 
now  tells  you  to  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  and  warns 
you  that  many,  through  their  own  remissness,  shall  seek  to 
enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able ;  that  voice  shall  then  speak  in 
other  tones.  You  may  approach  into  his  presence  with  all  the 
confidence  of  children.  You  may  come  with  perfect  assurance 
of  a  kind  reception,  and  knock  at  the  door,  and  cry  as  to  your 
familiar  friend,  "Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us;  and  he  shall  an- 
swer and  say  unto  you,  I  know  you  not,  whence  ye  are." 
This  will  be  a  day  of  agony,  for  it  will  be  a  day  of  unprofitable 
striving  to  enter  in — striving  as  agonizing  as  useless.  And 
many  a  tongue  that  has  said  "Lord,  Lord,"  on  earth,  shall 


80  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

that  day  be  speechless ;  and  many  a  heart  that  has  trusted  in 
a  noisy  show  of  religion  shall  be  rent  asunder  ;  and  many  a 
cold  calculator  whose  zeal  was  frozen  on  earth,  shall  feel  as  he 
never  felt  before — terror  and  anguish  joined  in  their  extremes. 
The}'^  will  come  up  with  an  easy  air  of  familiarity,  as  to  their 
home,  expecting  a  ready  entrance.  They  will  set  forth  their 
claims, — "  We  have  eaten  and  drunk  in  thy  presence," — claims 
founded  upon  privileges  which  they  enjoyed  and  abused. 
"Thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets."  True,  but  did  ye  hear, 
believe,  obey  ?  Here  they  can  give  no  answer,  and  they  hear 
their  sentence  repeated, — "  I  tell  you  I  know  you  not,  whence 
ye  are  ;  depart  from  me,  all  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  To  be 
excluded  in  the  face  of  such  high  hopes  of  admission  is  awful. 
But  there  is  a  bitterness  added  which  gives  keenness  to  the 
agony  ; — not  to  be  known  by  him  they  had  called  "  Master," 
— not  to  be  known  when  they  had  expected  to  be  received 
with  joy — not  to  be  known  at  their  home,  as  they  had  fondly 
thought  it — and  to  be  branded  at  last  as  workers  of  iniquity. 
And  many  shall  be  cast  off  in  this  same  way.  Many  "will 
seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able."  They  loved  and 
sought  other  things  beside  heaven.  Heaven  was  not  their 
hope,  their  all.  And  heaven  is  not  theirs.  They  sought  it  in 
a  smoother  road  than  the  way  of  holiness,  and  for  a  while  re- 
joiced in  it,  but  the  end  was  exclusion  from  the  kingdom. 
And  oh  !  what  a  wailing  shall  arise  from  this  host  of  disap- 
pointed, disheartened  beings !  What  a  weeping  and  wailing 
there  shall  be,  when  they  see  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
and  all  the  prophets  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  themselves 
thrust  out.  And  such  we  are  assured  by  the  Scriptures  there 
shall  be,  an  agony  of  grief,  and  shrieks  of  despair — a  calling 
upon  the  mountains  to  fall  on  them  and  the  rocks  to  hide  them. 


UNSUCCESSFUL    SEEKING    FOR    IIEAYEN.  81 

And  who  shall  be  able  to  abide  that  day,  or  stand  when  it  ap- 
pears ?  Being  a  Christian  is  considered  a  light  matter  now, 
but  it  will  not  be  so  considered  in  that  day.  Many  who  were 
called  such  in  this  world,  will  fall  forever ;  for  they  will  then 
be  thoroughly  sifted — hunted  out  of  every  hiding  place,  their 
hopes  tried,  their  desires  exposed,  their  lives  examined.  Have 
you  ever  examined  yourselves,  whether  ye  shall  be  able  to 
stand?  To  be  a  Christian  in  deed  and  in  truth  is  a  great 
thing.  I  must  think  much  greater  than  most  men  are  aware 
of.  When  I  read  the  Bible  and  find  out  who  shall  be  excluded 
from  heaven — how  one  sin  indulged  works  ruin — how  deceit- 
ful the  human  heart  is ;  and,  looking  either  at  home  or  abroad, 
find  it  to  be  very  truth,  that  we  are  inclined  to  indulge  false 
hopes  and  ready  to  help  on  our  own  deception  ;  I  am  ready  to 
say,  if  this  sentence  go  forth,  it  will  sweep  the  earth  clean. 
Not  a  man  will  be  left.  And  on  the  other  hand,  when  I  look 
at  the  character  of  the  Christian  as  God  has  given  it  in  the 
Bible,  I  see  indeed,  not  a  perfect  character,  but  a  striving  after 
it.  I  see  all  the  virtues  and  all  the  graces  of  the  Spirit  united 
— love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith, 
meekness,  temperance.  I  see  a  man  rising  from  the  dust,  cast- 
ing off  his  weights  and  the  sins  that  beset  him,  and  looking 
steadfastly  to  Jesus.  I  see  a  man  with  the  Spirit  of  God 
dwellino;  in  him,  breakins;  from  his  bondao;e,  loosino;  one  after 
another  the  ties  that  bind  him  to  earth,  and  looking  to  heaven 
as  his  home.  In  short,  I  see  a  man  sincere,  plain-hearted, 
kind,  using  the  world  as  not  abusing  it,  and  living  well  that  he 
may  die  well.  With  such  living  witnesses  of  its  power,  relig- 
ion would  spread  rapidly ;  and  if  none  are  to  be  saved  but 
those  in  whom  all  these  qualities  are  centred,  I  tremble  for 
myself,  and  I  tremble  for  all, — even  those  whose  hopes  are 
highest,  and  whose  joys  are  greatest. 


SERMON  YI. 

WISDOM  TOWARD  THEM  THAT  AEE  WITHOUT. 
Walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are  without.— Colossiaxs  iv.  5. 

God  has  given  to  the  world  a  revelation  of  his  will.  The 
great  object  of  this  revelation  is  to  bring  glory  to  God  in  the 
salvation  of  men.  But  it  can  be  the  means  of  their  salvation 
only  as  it  commends  itself  to  their  understandings  and  their 
hearts.  They  must  in  some  way  be  brought  to  think  well  of 
it  before  they  will  ever  heartily  receive  it.  There  are  but  two 
ways  in  which  they  can  be  brought  to  think  well  of  it — by  ex- 
amining its  principles,  and  by  seeing  those  principles  exhib- 
ited in  real  life.  By  examining  its  principles,  they  may  see 
that  it  is  fitted  to  the  nature  of  man — to  remove  his  guilt,  to 
quiet  his  fears,  to  purify  his  heart  and  make  him  happy.  Its 
very  fitness  to  the  nature  and  necessities  of  man,  shows  that 
the  Maker  of  man  is  its  author,  and  that  it  is  both  "  a  faith- 
ful saying  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation." 

But  few  are  found  willing  to  examine  in  this  way  the  vol- 
ume of  revelation.  The  great  mass  look  not  so  much  at  prin- 
ciples as  actual  effects ;  and  study  religion  less  in  the  Bible 
than  in  the  lives  of  the  professedly  religious.  Does  it  remove 
guilt  and  guilty  fears,  and  purify  the  heart,  and  make  men 
happy  ?  They  look  for  its  power  and  efiicacy  in  the  lives  of 
the  religious,  and  on  this  account  it  is  all-important  that  they 
should  exhibit  its  true  spirit  and  character.  They  are  witnesses 
for  God,  and  let  them  see  to  it  that  they  bear  a  true  testimony. 


T^•ISD0>1  TOWARD  THEM    THAT  ARE  WITHOUT.  83 

It  is  on  this  ground  that  Christians  are  exhorted  to  shape  their 
conduct  with  special  reference  to  those  that  are  without,  with  a 
view  of  influencing  them  to  come  within.  Says  Jesus, — "  Let 
your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may  see  your  good 
works  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  Says 
Paul, — "Walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are  without." 
Again  he  exhorts  "  that  ye  study  to  be  quiet  and  to  do  your 
own  business,  and  to  work  with  your  hands,  ....  that 
ye  may  walk  honestly  toward  them  that  are  without." 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  Christian  to  recommend  religion  to 
those  who  are  without.     To  do  this 

I.  His  religion  must  be  founded  on  PRiNCirLE. 

To  maintain  a  decent  form  of  religion,  he  must  necessarily 
differ  in  many  respects  from  others — he  cannot  run  to  the  same 
excess  of  riot  with  them,  he  cannot  enter  into  all  their  schemes 
to  kill  time,  he  caimot  be  partaker  of  all  their  amusements,  he 
cannot  sympathize  with  all  their  worldly  plans.  Yet  all  this 
difference  in  outward  conduct  may  spring  from  no  principle  of 
religion.  It  may  be  the  result  of  caprice,  or  love  of  singulari- 
ty, or  of  selfishness,  or  of  a  sour  and  morose  disposition ;  and 
while  there  is  any  plausible  pretext  for  imputing  it  to  these 
causes,  he  necessarily  fails  to  commend  religion.  There  is  no 
great  difficulty,  ordinarily,  in  discerning  the  motives  by  which 
men  are  influenced.  If,  from  religious  principle,  they  are  in- 
duced to  come  out  from  the  world  and  be  separate,  it  will,  in 
no  long  time,  be  manifest  to  the  world.  They  may  suffer  from 
the  imputation  of  bad  motives  for  a  season,  but  there  is  a  power 
in  established  principle,  which  commends  itself  to  every  man. 

When  Daniel  continued  to  pray  as  usual,  notwithstanding 
the  king's  commandment,  was  it  from  religious  principle,  or 
wilfulness  ?     His  very  enemies  had  no  doubt  of  his  integrity. 


84  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

**  We  shall  not  find  any  occasion  against  this  Daniel,  except 
■we  find  it  against  hira  concerning  the  law  of  his  God."  When 
the  three  worthies  stood  erect  and  alone  amidst  the  thousands 
that  bowed  down  before  the  image,  could  any  man  for  a  mo- 
ment think  it  mere  obstinacy — we  won't  because  we  won't? 
When  the  apostles  were  commanded  by  the  council  not  to  teach 
or  preach  any  more  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  they  answered, 
*•  Whether  it  be  right  in  the  sight  of  God  to  hearken  unto  you 
more  than  God,  judge  ye,"  and  continued  their  preaching  in 
the  face  of  the  commandment,  was  there  any  doubt  about  the 
motives  ?  So  now  religious  principle  shines  out  with  a  lustre 
of  its  own.  True,  religion  has  its  counterfeits,  and  religious 
scruples  are  sometimes  a  mere  pretense.  But  few  are  deceived. 
The  real  motive  is  sometimes  apparent  from  the  very  effort  to 
conceal  it.  One  man,  for  instance,  furnishes  no  spirit  to  his 
workmen.  He  is  convinced  that  it  is  wrong  and  ruinous,  and 
he  is  principled  against  it.  Another  has  made  a  calculation  of 
the  annual  expense,  and  has  discovered  that  banishing  the 
spirit  from  his  fields  is  a  money-saving  process,  and  he  is  inter- 
ested against  it,  while  every  workman  knows  that  he  cares 
more  for  interest  than  principle.  There  may  be  a  mistake  in 
the  first  instance,  but  it  is  rarely  of  long  continuance.  A 
drunkard  respects  the  man  who  from  principle  refuses  to  fur- 
nish him  the  means  of  ruin. 

An  ofiacer  in  the  last  war  was  challenged  to  fight  a  duel. 
He  had  been  a  member  of  a  church  for  many  years,  and  was 
principled  against  duelling,  but  if  he  refused  the  challenge  he 
would  be  posted  for  a  coward,  and  his  reputation  in  the  army 
ruined.  His  very  friends  urged  him  to  fight,  as  the  only 
means  of  saving  his  character.  But  he  refused,  and  his  name 
was  handed  round  with  the  common  epithets  of  disgrace.     Two 


WISDOM  TOWARD  THEM    THAT  ARE  WITHOUT.  85 

days  after,  the  enemy  appeared,  and  lie  redeemed  his  character 
on  the  field  of  battle.  To  those  who  were  but  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  him,  the  cause  of  his  refusal  might  have  been 
mistaken — a  coward  might  seek  shelter  under  the  pretense  of 
principle.  But  there  was  another  occasion  in  which  there 
could  be  no  mistake. 

Particular  acts  of  a  Christian  may  be  imputed  to  bad  mo- 
tives— whim,  oddity,  moroseness,  selfishness.  But  he  has  a 
thousand  opportunities  of  vindicating  his  character,  by  showing 
forth  honesty  of  heart  and  purity  of  principle.  If  he  "walks 
in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are  without,"  he  will  abound  in 
those  acts  that  are  least  subject  to  misapprehension,  and  when 
he  is  constrained  to  differ  from  others,  make  it  manifest  that  he 
diflfers  not  from  a  perverse  disposition  or  narrowness  of  mind, 
but  from  principle  and  conscience.  Every  good  man  is  bound 
to  take  pains  that  his  "  good  be  not  evil  spoken  of," — that  the 
good  principle  which  actuates  him  shine  out  in  the  act.  Let  it 
appear  that  his  religion  is  founded  on  principle. 

II.  To  commend  religion  to  those  who  are  without,  it  must 
BE  CONSISTENT — uot  an  affair  of  times  and  seasons — of  Sundays 
and  special  occasions.  "  It  is  good  to  be  zealously  affected  al- 
ways in  a  good  thing."  There  is  no  truth  more  manifest  than 
that  religion  should  be  the  ruling  principle  of  life — the  great 
spring  of  action  in  a  Christian.  It  should  appear  in  all  his 
business,  in  all  his  intercourse  with  men.  It  should  be  mani- 
fest that  there  is  nothing  temporary  or  trivial  about  it — that  it 
has  the  same  authority  at  all  times  and  in  all  places.  This 
principle  is  frequently  overlooked.  Many  who  are  religious 
in  the  morning,  seem  to  forget  their  religion  all  the  day.  Its 
exercise  is  suspended  till  the  evening,  as  if  the  business  of  the 

world  could  not  be  conducted  on  religious  principles,  and  when 
8 


86  REV.    D.    MEHRILl's    SERMONS. 

their  work  is  done  it  is  resumed  again.  Many  look  upon  the 
l3usiness  of  the  world  as  a  coming  down  from  religion,  while 
they  lay  an  improper  stress  upon  what  are  called  religious  du- 
ties. But  if  worldly  business  be  pursued  from  religious  mo- 
tives, it  is  as  much  a  religious  duty,  and  as  acceptable  to  God, 
as  prayer  and  public  worship.  Every  Christian  should  be 
"  not  slothful  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 
Others  may  be  diligent  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving 
the  world.  But  a  vein  of  religion  should  run  through  all  his 
conduct — all  the  business  in  which  hi?  hands  engage. 

While  some  are  inconsistent  by  confining  their  religion  too 
much  to  times  and  places,  others  are  inconsistent  by  confining 
their  attention  to  a  part  of  its  requirements.  They  are  strict 
and  particular  in  some  things,  and  as  if  to  make  reprisals,  are 
equally  loose  in  other  things.  Those  matters  in  which  they 
are  most  strict  are  not  necessarily  of  the  most  importance — a 
form,  a  ceremony,  perhaps,  is  exalted  to  a  high  place,  while  the 
vitals  of  religion  receive  very  little  attention.  The  generation 
that  tithed  mint  and  anise  and  cummin,  but  omitted  the 
weightier  matters  of  the  law,  has  not  yet  entirely  passed  away. 
A  part  of  the  Christian  graces  shine  out  in  full  glory,  while 
there  is  a  notorious  lack  of  the  remainder.  Thus  some  who 
are  not  so  particular  about  the  demands  of  justice,  are  abun- 
dantly liberal ;  while  others,  who  are  strictly  honest  and  just, 
almost  never  do  a  generous  deed.  Some  have  little  control 
over  their  own  spirit — some  have  a  tongue  that  runs  to  much 
at  random.  Some  go  to  the  extreme  of  levity,  and  some  to 
the  extreme  of  austerity  and  gloom.  In  a  great  portion  of  the 
religious,  there  are  some  flagrant  defects  joined  in  with  their 
excellencies,  which  destroy  the  beauty  of  Christian  character. 
They  seem  hardly  to  have  contemplated  religion  in  all  the  ex- 


WISDOM  TOWARD  THEM    THAT  ARE  WITHOUT.  87 

tent  of  its  requirements.  Their  characters  are  inconsistent. 
One  part  is  not  of  a  piece  with  another.  How  shall  they  with 
their  manifest  defects  recommend  religion  to  those  who  are 
without  ?  Their  defects  are  not  a  foil  to  set  off  their  virtues, 
but  an  extinguisher  of  them.  Those  who  are  without,  fasten 
upon  their  defects,  and  find  in  them  an  excuse  for  their  irre- 
ligion.  There  is  an  injustice  in  this  which  ought  to  make 
every  thinking  man  ashamed.  Such,  however,  is  too  frequent- 
ly the  fact,  and  the  religious  should  be  aware  of  it,  and  take 
special  pains  to  remedy  their  defects  by  adding  to  their  faith 
all  the  other  Christian  graces,  that  all  being  in  them  and 
abounding,  they  may  "  walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are 
without."  Let  him  who  is  liberal  but  thoughtless  of  honest 
debts,  become  just ;  and  let  him  who  is  just  but  not  generous, 
become  liberal ;  and  let  those  whose  hasty  spirits  or  random 
tongues  deform  all  the  rest  of  their  characters,  set  a  double 
guard  here.  Then  shall  their  religion  shine  out  with  a  clear 
and  steady  brightness.  "  Then  shall  I  not  be  ashamed,"  says 
the  Psalmist,  "  when  I  have  respect  unto  all  thy  command- 
ments." 

III.  To  commend  religion  to  those  who  are  without,  it  must 
APPEAR  AMIABLE.  That  truc  religion  is  amiable,  all  who  learn 
it  from  the  Bible  must  admit.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more 
amiable  and  lovely  than  the  character  of  its  holy  Author,  and 
he  exhibited  in  himself  just  what  he  required  of  others.  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  model  of  Christianity.  The  design  of  it  is  to 
mould  into  his  image  all  who  receive  it,  that  the  same  "  mind 
may  be  in  them  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  This  is  the 
amount  of  all  the  apostolic  exhortations  to  Christians — that 
they  should  "put  on  Jesus  Christ,"  while  the  end  of  their 
election  and  of  their  calling  is,  that  they  should  "  be  conformed 


88  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

to  the  imapje"  of  Jesus  Christ.  Look  at  the  dorious  Re- 
deemer,  going  about  doing  good  both  to  soul  and  body.  Love 
brought  him  from  heaven.  Love  was  the  all-animating  prinei- 
ple  of  liis  life,  while  he  condescended  to  all  weakness,  sympa- 
thized with  all  sorrow,  bore  with  patience  the  contradictions  of 
sinners  against  himself,  and  used  all  means  to  bring  saving 
truth  to  human  hearts.  Love  sustained  amidst  the  agonies  of 
the  cross,  and  witli  a  love  stronger  than  death  he  breathed  out 
his  life ;  with  the  last  breath  exclaiming, — "Father  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  Can  imagination 
conceive  anything  more  amiable  and  lovely  ?  With  such  a 
character  in  the  Master,  can  the  sour,  or  the  bitter,  or  the  mo- 
rose be  the  prevailing  qualities  in  the  disciples?  Can  he 
have  no  sympathy  in  human  joy  or  sorrow  when  the  Master 
had  so  much  ?  Can  he  bestow  nothing  but  in  a  constrained 
and  half-hearted  way,  when  the  Master  gave  his  very  heart's 
blood  so  liberally  ?  Can  he  be  sudden  or  quick  in  quarrels, 
or  implacable  in  resentments,  who  has  before  him  the  meekness 
and  gentleness  of  Christ  ?  Yet  the  amiable  in  religion  is 
sometimes  overlooked.  The  apostle  commends  to  Christians 
"whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatso- 
ever things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report." 
In  some  cases  the  things  that  are  lovely  and  of  good  report 
have  not  had  the  fair  proportion  of  regard.  Men  have  held 
the  true  and  the  honest,  and  the  just,  and  the  pure,  with  a 
stiffness  and  a  rigidness  which  excluded  or  reduced  to  a  subor- 
dinate station  things  lovely  and  of  good  report.  True,  rigidity 
and  sourness  are  sometimes  imputed  to  the  righteous  without 
cause.  With  some  all  restraint  is  rigidness,  and  all  serious 
reflection,  austerity  and  sourness.     Yet  perhaps  few  religious 


WISDOM  TOWARD    THEM  THAT  ARE  W^ITHOUT.  89 

people  have  paid  sufficient  attention  to  that  which  is  lovely  and 
of  good  report.  The  substantial  parts  of  religion  have  gained 
their  attention,  but  that  which  is  ornamental,  that  which  adorns 
the  doctrine  of  God  our  Savior  has  not  been  sufficiently  culti- 
vated. If  we  would  gain  those  that  are  without,  religion  must 
be  presented  in  an  attractive  form.  Zion  must  put  on  her 
beautiful  garments,  before  she  will  ever  become  the  joy  of  the 
whole  earth. 

ly.  To  commend  religion  to  those  that  are  without,  it  must 

BE  A  MANIFEST  SOURCE  OF  COMFORT  AND  JOY.       *'  We    haVB  not 

received  the  spirit  of  bondage  again  to  fear,  but  we  have  re- 
ceived the  spirit  of  adoption  whereby  we  cry,  Abba,  Father." 
"Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  by  whom  also  we  have  access  by  faith 
into  this  grace  wherein  we  stand,  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  the 
glory  of  God."  Every  Christian  should  make  the  impression 
upon  others,  that  he  is  happier  for  his  religion.  To  make  this 
impression,  his  religion  must  sit  easy  upon  him — never  appear 
forced  and  unnatural.  When  the  queen  of  Sheba  visited  Sol- 
omon, and  saw  his  wisdom  in  the  arrangements  of  his  house, 
and  of  the  house  of  God,  and  of  his  kingdom,  she  pronounced 
his  servants  happy.  "Happy  are  thy  men,  happy  are  these 
thy  servants  which  stand  continually  before  thee."  Every 
citizen  of  Zion  should  produce  the  same  conviction  in  the  mind 
of  every  beholder,  that  his  connection  with  the  Savior  is  the 
ground  of  his  rejoicing  in  the  house  of  his  pilgrimage.  This 
he  may  show  in  afflictions,  or  when  under  disappointments,  or 
when  exposed  to  danger.  When  human  help  fails  and  earthly 
comforts  vanish,  then  let  it  appear  that  his  treasure  is  in  heaven 
and  his  record  is  on  high.  Not  only  in  times  of  peril  and  se- 
vere trial,  but  on  all  common  occasions  he  should  manifest  a 
8* 


90  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons.  , 

confidence  in  God,  a  mind  free  from  the  cares  and  vexations 
and  solicitudes  which  agitate  the  world.  The  Christian,  of  all 
men,  has  the  least  cause  to  be  "careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things."  Casting  his  cares  upon  Him  that  careth  for 
him,  and  confident  that  He  will  do  all  things  well,  every 
ground  of  perplexing  anxiety  is  swept  away.  Why  should  his 
mind  be  a  troubled  sea,  like  the  minds  of  those  that  know  not 
God  ?  Yet  a  mistake  on  this  subject  is  not  uncommon,  and 
religion  suffers  from  the  manifest  unhappiness  of  the  religious. 
Some  are  not  aware  of  the  extent  of  the  liberty  wherewith 
Christ  hath  made  them  free,  and  are  in  partial  subjection  to 
the  spirit  of  bondage.  Some,  under  the  garb  of  religion  at- 
tempt to  trim  between  it  and  the  world,  enjoying  the  pleasures 
of  neither.  Some  are  naturally  of  a  melancholy  turn, — it  is 
their  nature  to  look  at  the  dark  side  of  things, — but  they  who 
are  melancholy  with  religion,  would  have  been  ten  times  more 
so  without  it. 

"  The  hill  of  Zion  yields 

A  thousand  sacred  sweets, 
Before  we  reach  the  heavenly  fields, 

Or  walk  the  golden  streets." 

"  Then  let  our  songs  abound, 

And  every  tear  be  dry  ! 
We're  marching  through  Emmanuel's  ground, 

To  fairer  worlds  on  high." 

To  commend  religion  to  those  that  are  without,  it  must  be 
presented  as  a  source  of  enjoyment ;  and  those  whose  counte- 
nances are  never  lit  up  with  a  cheerful  smile,  or  those  who 
overflow  with  cares  and  anxieties  about  the  future,  or  those  who 
sink  into  despair  under  their  trials  and  afflictions,  are  not  aware 


WISDOM  TOWARD   THEM  THAT  ARE  WITHOUT.  91 

of  the  reproach  which  they  cast  upon  religion.  What  do  they 
but  exhibit  it  in  a  repulsive  form,  a  thing  to  be  endured  ! 

Finally,  to  commend  religion  to  those  that  are  without,  it 
MUST  REGARD  APPEARANCES.  "  I  was  ashamcd,"  says  Ezra, 
"  to  require  of  the  king  a  band  of  soldiers  and  horsemen  to 
help  us  against  the  enemy  in  the  way ;  because  we  had  spoken 
unto  the  king,  saying,  The  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon  all  them 
for  good  that  seek  him  ;  but  his  power  and  his  wrath  is  against 
all  them  that  forsake  him."  He  was  jealous  for  the  honor  of 
his  religion.  There  is  no  inconsistency,  surely,  between  trust- 
ing in  God  and  taking  proper  measures  for  self-defence,  and  he 
might  have  required  a  band  of  soldiers  to  protect  them  and  the 
immense  treasure  which  they  were  carrying  back  to  Jerusalem. 
But  he  had  said  to  the  king,  "  The  Lord  will  be  our  defence," 
and  requiring  a  band  of  soldiers  would  have  appeared  to  the  king 
like  a  contradiction ;  and  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  evil,  he 
set  forth  unprotected.  "  I  was  ashamed  to  require  a  band  of 
soldiers,  because  I  had  spoken  unto  the  king,  saying.  The 
hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon  all  them  for  good  that  seek  him." 
The  thing  itself  was  right  and  proper,  but  the  appearance  was 
bad. 

No  Christian  is  licensed  to  disregard  appearances.  He  is 
required  to  keep  a  conscience  void  of  offence  towards  men  as 
well  as  towards  God,  to  provide  things  honest  in  the  sight  of 
all  men.  He  has  no  liberty  to  say,  I  will  do  what  I  think  is 
right,  and  I  do  not  care  what  others  think.  He  ought  to  care. 
He  is  bound  to  shun  every  appearance  of  evil.  He  may  be  a 
good  man,  but  how  shall  he  be  useful,  while  his  light  is  hid 
under  a  bushel  ?  or  while  his  conduct  is  of  so  doubtful  a  char- 
acter as  to  subject  him  to  universal  suspicion  ?  No  man  has  a 
right  to  claim  independence  of  his  follow  men,  or  set  public 


92  REV. 

opinion  at  defiance.  If  liis  calling,  or  his  conduct,  or  the 
means  by  which  he  has  his  wealth  is  suspicious,  his  influence 
for  good  is  destroyed.  This  part  of  "  wisdom  toward  them 
that  are  without"  is  too  frequently  overlooked.  Whether 
from  consciousness  of  integrity  or  not,  men  too  often  disregard 
appearances. 

A  Christian  is  found  pursuing  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath 
day.  We  all  know  that  there  are  circumscances  which  will 
justify  him  in  so  doing.  Works  of  necessity  and  mercy  are  to 
be  done  on  every  day  of  the  week.  But  the  presumption  is 
against  him,  and  the  appearence  is  always  bad.  Of  those  who 
know  that  he  has  travelled  on  the  Sabbath,  not  one  in  ten  will 
ever  know  that  he  has  a  good  Christian  reason  for  it ;  and  if, 
like  Ezra,  he  is  jealous  for  the  honor  of  religion,  nothing  but 
the  extremest  necessity  will  ever  induce  him  to  do  what  may 
appear  a  violation  of  the  Sabbath. 

A  Christian  is  frequently  absent  from  the  house  of  God,  es- 
pecially when  the  weather  is  a  little  uncomfortable,  or  the  roads 
unpleasant,  or  he  is  hurried  through  the  week.  He  may  have 
his  reasons,  but  if  he  knew  the  impression  which  his  negligence 
made  upon  those  who  are  without,  and  like  Ezra  were  jealous 
for  the  honor  of  religion,  would  such  reasons  keep  him  from 
the  sanctuary  ?  Or  he  may  be  regularly  present  himself,  while 
his  children  and  dependents  are  almost  always  absent,  scattered 
he  knows  not  where.  Whatever  may  be  the  real  reason  of 
this,  the  appearance  is  always  bad. 

There  is  a  religious  meeting  and  a  visiting  party  on  the  same 
evening,  and  a  Christian  is  found  at  the  latter.  Now  this  is 
not  necessarily  wrong  in  itself.  There  may  have  been  special 
reasons  in  its  favor.  But  what  is  the  appearance  to  those  who 
are  without  ?     There  are  a  thousand  cases  of  similar  character, 


■\YISDO.M  TOWARD  THEM    TUAT  ARE  TTITIIOUT.  93 

where  the  action  is  not  necessarily  wrong  in  itself,  but  the  ap- 
pearance is  bad,  and  every  Christian  is  bound  to  consult  ap- 
pearance as  well  as  reality — to  enjoy  his  privileges  and  use  his 
liberty  so  as  not  to  lay  a  stumbling  block  or  occasion  to  fall  in 
his  brother's  way,  or  in  the  way  of  those  without. 

To  "walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are  without,"  then, 
religion  must  be  evidently  founded  on  principle — it  must  be 
consistent,  it  must  be  amiable,  it  must  be  a  manifest  source  of 
comfort  and  joy,  it  must  regard  appearances ;  and  where  re- 
ligion is  thus  exhibited,  in  its  own  glorious  form,  it  cannot  be 
in  vain.  It  is  a  fire  to  melt  down  the  opposition  of  human 
hearts,  and  a  light  to  lure  the  wanderer  to  the  haven  of  rest. 
A  church  composed  of  such  members  cannot  fail  to  prosper. 
They  are  an  epistle  of  commendation  to  the  gospel,  seen  and 
read  of  all  men.  They  force  upon  every  man  the  conviction 
that  God  is  with  them  of  a  truth,  and  Jesus,  looking  down  from 
heaven,  says,  I  am  glorified  in  them.  Their  honest,  consist- 
ent, amiable  and  joyful  course  of  life,  gives  glory  to  God,  and 
brings  the  highest  good  to  men.  My  brethren,  in  this  new 
connection  formed  to-day,  you  wish  to  prosper, — to  see  this 
church  built  up  and  enlarged,  and  this  entire  population 
brought  under  the  influence  of  the  gospel.  You  know  that 
the  religion  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  in  its  own  nature  ag- 
gressive— every  step  in  advance  is  a  preparation  for  another. 
You  are  not  satisfied  that  things  remain  as  they  are,  merely 
growing  no  worse,  nor  would  you  knowingly  settle  a  man  who 
would  be  contented  simply  to  keep  garrison.  You  look  for 
advance,  and  with  such  a  leader  you  expect  advance.  As  a 
man,  he  has  all  the  anxiety  to  succeed  in  his  calling  that  any 
other  man  has  in  his.  It  is  painful  for  him  to  spend  his 
strength  for  nought,  or  merely  to  save  the  church  from  utter 


04  REV.  D.  meiuull's  sehmons. 

ruin.  The  spirit  of  manhood  prompts  him  to  aspire  to  victory, 
in  increase  and  enlargement.  And  just  suppose  him  to  be 
what  he  professes,  a  sinner  saved,  seeking  the  salvation  of  his 
fellow-sinners,  how  is  his  anxiety  increased  when  he  thinks 
that  success  is  their  salvation,  and  that  men  perish  just  in  pro- 
portion as  his  exertions  are  defeated  and  his  hopes  disappointed. 
And  he  cannot  succeed  to  any  considerable  extent  without  your 
consent  and  concurrence,  even  though  he  should  preach  with 
the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels.  For  whereunto  would  serve 
his  preaching,  with  your  lives  a  living  contradiction  to  it  ? 
You  wish  to  prosper,  and  you  wish  him  to  succeed  in  his  great 
business  of  saving  souls  from  death  and  opening  blind  eyes. 
The  way  is  a  very  plain  one,  and  the  part  you  have  to  act  is 
very  manifest — "  walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that  are  with- 
out." 

How  blessed  to  hold  forth  the  word  of  life,  and  to  reflect  the 
light  of  heaven  upon  our  fellow  men  !  "  They  that  be  wise, 
shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament ;  and  they  that 
turn  (allure)  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  forever  and 
ever."  "  He  which  converteth  the  sinner  from  the  error  of 
his  way  (allures  him  to  forsake  it)  shall  save  a  soul  from  death 
and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of  sins."  What  a  powerful  motive 
to  induce  every  Christian  to  "  walk  in  wisdom  toward  them  that 
are  without."  Think  of  the  value  of  the  soul,  the  awfulness  of 
the  death  that  threatens  it,  the  excellency  and  glory  of  salva- 
tion, and  can  a  nobler  object  be  presented  before  a  mortal  or 
immortal  being  ? 

Brethren,  this  object  is  set  before  you.  Like  the  father  of 
the  faithful,  you  are  blessed  that  you  may  be  a  blessing.  You 
are  not  pardoned  and  sanctified  merely  that  you  may  be  saved, 
nor  merely  that  God  may  be  glorified  in  your  salvation ;  but 


WISDOM  TOWARD  TUEM   THAT  ARE  WITHOUT.  95 

also  that  you  may  "  hold  forth  the  word  of  life  ;  that  you  may 
rejoice,  in  the  day  of  Christ,  that  you  have  not  run  in  vain, 
neither  labored  in  vain." 

They  are  in  darkness,  and  know  not  at  what  they  stumble. 
*'  Ye  were  sometime  darkness,  but  now  are  ye  light  in  the 
Lord;  walk  as  children  of  light."  Men  do  not  "  light  a  can- 
dle and  put  it  under  a  bushel,  but  on  a  candlestick ;  and  it  giv- 
eth  light  unto  all  that  are  in  the  house.  Let  your  light  so  shine 
before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good  works  and  glorify 
your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

If  religion  is  not  thus  manifested  as  springing  from  the 
heart,  and  consistent,  and  amiable,  and  joyful,  you  have  still  a 
great  work  to  do  for  yourself,  and  you  should  begin  it  with  the 
prayer  of  the  Psalmist,  "  Restore  unto  me  the  joy  of  thy  sal- 
vation ;  and  uphold  me  with  thy  free  Spirit."  Let  us  all  be- 
gin with  this  prayer,  that  we  may  "walk  in  wisdom  toward 
them  that  are  without."  "  Then  shall  our  light  break  forth  as 
the  morning  and  thy  health  shall  spring  forth  speedily,"  and 
our  hearts  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that  "the  time,  yea,  the 
set  time  to  favor  Zion  is  come." 


SERMON  TIL 

DANGERS  OF  YOUTH. 

riee  also  youthful  lusts,  but  follow  righteousness,  faith,  charity,  peace,  with 
them  that  call  on  the  Lord  out  of  a  pure  heart.    2  Timothy  ii.  22. 

As  the  season  of  youth  is  unspeakably  important,  so  it  is 
exposed  to  peculiar  dangers.  Indeed,  every  period  of  life  has 
its  own  trials  and  temptations,  and  while  it  is  no  crime  to  be 
tried  or  tempted,  it  is  the  highest  honor  to  sustain  the  trial  and 
resist  the  temptation — to  trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  right  in  all 
the  various  conditions  of  life.  And  as  this  is  a  world  of  pro- 
bation, it  would  be  strange  if  there  were  not  trials  suited  to 
every  age  and  condition  of  life.  For  what  is  virtue  that  has 
never  been  tried,  or  that  cannot  endure  a  trial.  A  fine  uni- 
form, and  measured  step,  and  well-scoured  armor  do  not  make 
a  soldier.  All  these  may  be  well  enough  in  their  place,  but 
the  test  of  soldiership  is  the  field  of  battle.  There  skill 
and  enterprise  and  manly  daring  are  brought  to  the  proof.  So 
the  test  of  virtue  is  the  field  of  trial  and  temptation.  There  it 
is  strengthened  and  confirmed,  and  shines  out  in  all  its  glory  ; 
and  there  every  counterfeit  is  detected  and  exposed.  The 
saints  who  have  obtained  the  prize  of  their  high  calling,  were 
all  subject  to  trial.  After  they  had  patiently  endured,  they 
obtained  the  promised  reward.  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  en- 
dureth  temptation."  We  are  not  to  court  temptation  or  reck- 
lessly run  into  it ;  enough  will  meet  us  in  our  own  pathway. 
We  ought  to  know  our  peculiar  dangers  that  we  may  be  pre- 


DANGERS    OP    YOUTH.  97 

pared  to  meet  them.  Every  point  of  exposure  should  be 
noted,  that  no  enemy  may  come  upon  us  unawares.  -  Let  us 
turn  our  attention,  then,  to  the  peculiar  dangers  of  youth. 

The  apostle  brings  before  us  one  class  of  these,  and  ho  points 
out  the  only  method  of  escape.  "Flee  youthful  lusts;  but 
follow  righteousness,  faith,  charity,  peace,  with  them  that  call 
on  the  Lord  out  of  a  pure  heart."  In  other  cases  the  direc- 
tion is  different.  Kesist.  "Resist  the  devil  and  he  will  flee 
from  you."  There  is  no  one  medicine  that  will  suit  every  dis- 
ease ;  so  there  is  no  one  method  of  defence  that  will  ensure 
safety  in  every  time  of  danger.  The  defence  must  be  varied 
to  suit  the  nature  of  the  assault  :  and  a  knowledge  of  the  dan- 
ger will  ordinarily  suggest  the  best  means  of  safety. 
j  Youth  is  peculiarly  exposed  from  thoughtlessness.  Life, 
and  all  its  scenes  are  new.  The  attractions  of  the  world  are 
presented  in  their  gayest,  brightest  colors.  The  day  passes 
merrily  along,  and  "  Jo-morrow  shall  be  as  this  day,  and  much 
\more  abundant."  Theirs  is  a  season  of  feeling  and  excite- 
ment, while  the  world  is  all  before  them,  where  to  choose  their 
place  of  rest.  There  is  little  experience  to  temper  the  gaiety 
of  hope,  or  strip  temptation  of  its  borrowed  charms.  All  is  fair 
and  bright  and  joyous,  and  though  there  is  an  instinctive  ap- 
prehension that  things  are  not  what  they  seem,  that  every 
flowiii:--CQnceals_a  thorn,  there  is  still  an^  instinctive  dread  of 
the  discovery.  Sober  reality  seems  tame  and  heartless  ;  seri- 
ous reflection  is  close  allied  with  dullness.  There  is  no  inspira- 
tion in  solid  truth,  no  genius  in  cold  matter  of  fact  to  charm 
their  gay  hearts,  or  restrain  their  roving  fancies.  And  the 
principal  evils  of  life  originate  from  this  source.  In  this  world, 
a  want  of  thought  is  a  far  more  common  cause  of  misery  than 
positive  depravity.  The  laws  of  nature  are  fixed  and  unchang- 
9 


98  REV.    D. 

'able,  and  we  can  enjoy  their  benefits  only  while  we  conform 
ourselves  to  them.  A  poison  is  no  less  deadly  because  it  is 
taken  thoughtlessly,  and  not  with  an  express  design  to  destroy 
life.  A  disease  hastens  to  a  fatal  termination,  whether  we 
carelessly  neglect  the  remedy,  or  wilfully  and  wickedly  spurn 
it  away,  ^^{gjnan^^pects  to  reap  a  joyous Jiarvestjnerely  be- 
cause_haJorgQt -ta_SOw,  or  in  his  ignorance  did  not  even  know 
that  sowing  was  necessary.  The  laws  of  nature  are  fixed  and 
manifest,  and  he  that  violates  them  must  expect  to  suffer  the 
penalty.  He  that  sets  forth  upon  a  voyage  in  a  leaky  vessel, 
is  not  saved  from  shipwreck  by  any  plea  of  ignorance*  or  good- 
ness of  intention.  He  violates  a  physical  law,  'and  he  suffers 
a  physical  penalty.  It  is  with  moral  laws  as  with  physical. 
They  may  be  violated  through  neglect,  or  through  an  inexcusa- 
ble ignorance,  as  well  as  through  positive  direct  intention,  and 
far  more  frequently  are  thus  violated.  A  temptation  to  wrong 
spreads  its  allurements — at  the  moment  of  temptation  it  is  not 
(T^seen  to  be  wrong,  or  if  seen  to  be  wrong  it  seems  a  very  small 
\  and  a  very  pardonable  offence.  Does  that  alter  the  nature  of 
the  law  or  deliver  the  offender  from  its  penalty  ?  Ignorance, 
or  delusion,  or  temporary  thoughtlessness,  have  no  power  to 
free  the  offender  from  the  penalty.  In  this  respect  there  is  a 
striking  analogy  between  physical  laws  and  moral ;  and  the  one, 
of  which  no  man  complains,  helps  to  explain  and  justify  the 
other.  There  is  an  identity  of  operation  which  proves  that  they 
are  established  by  the  same  authority,  and  administered  by  the 
same  power.  A  careless,  thoughtless  ignorance  in  violation  of 
either,  is  no  bar  against  suffering  the  penalty.  A  wrong  course 
in  either  case  leads  to  ruin,  whether  that  course  be  taken  care- 
lessly or  wilfully.  As  the  constitution  may  be  ruined  and 
health  destroyed  by  thoughtless  indulgence  or  dissipation,  so 


DANGERS    OF    YOUTH.  99 

may  the  soul.  Why  do  so  many  youth  disappoint  the  fondest 
expectations  of  their  friends,  and  fail  to  realize  all  their  own  gay 
visions  of  eminence  or  distinction  ?  Because  in  ordinary  cases, 
through  lightness  of  mind  or  instability  of  purpose,  they  have 
■wasted  the  best  season  for  improvement.  Visions  and  day- 
dreams have  usurped  the  place  of  serious  thoughts  and  sober 
reflection.  The  foundation  of  good  principles  has  never  been 
laid,  and  in  mature  life  they  are  "like, a  ware, of  the  sea, 
driven  5vitli_tlip_5siml  andr-tessed,"  unfit  for  tho  business  nf  lifp, 
and  unprepared  to  resist  its  temptations.  All  this  is  the  re- 
sult, not  of  determined  wickedness,  but  of  thoughtless,  careless 
neglect.  They  are  no  thieves,  or  robbers,  or  murderers, — per- 
haps not  immoral ;  biit  they  are  unfit  for  all  the  great  puj:|)Oses 
of  life.  And  the  same  neglect  that  has  cast  a  blight  upon  their 
fair  prospects  in  this  world,  has  blasted  all  their  hopes  for  eter- 
nity. The  sentence  of  the  world  against  them  now,  and  the 
sentence  of  God  at  last,  will  rest  upon  the  same  foundation.  A 
price  was  put  into  their  hands  to  get  wisdom,  but  it  was  wasted 
in  thoughtlessness  and  neglect.  The  same  spirit  that  neglected 
all  the  great  purposes  of  life  and  brought  down  the  condemna- 
tion of  men,  neglected  the  great  salvation,  and  brought  down 
the  condemnation  of  heaven.  And  the  foundation  of  the  sen- 
tence is  not  what  they  have  done  so  much  as  what  they  have 
not  done.  Our  Creator  has  endowed  us  with  powers  of  thought 
and  reflection,  and  to  be  any  thing  in  this  world,  or  the  world 
to  come,  these  powers  must  be  brought  into  action.  Neglect 
and  thoughtlessness  are  no  more  a  guarantee  against  the  evils 
of  the  future  world,  than  against  the  evils  of  this.  Here,  we 
all  see  that  they  are  no  defense.  A  man  may  be  as  utterly 
and  as  irretrievably  ruined  by  neglect  and  carelessness  as  by 
the  most  determined  wickedness,  and  with  all  the  wickedness 


100  KEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

of  the  world  this  is  far  more  frequently  the  case.  The  desper- 
ately wicked  are  few  in  comparison  with  the  rest,  yet  "  wide  is 
the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and 
many  there  be  that  go  in  thereat,"  and  the  unthinking  pass  the 
gate  and  crowd  the  path.  Here  the  young  are  in  special  dan- 
ger, and  the  more  danger  from  the  fact  that  want  of  thought  is 
often  considered  very  pardonable  in  them.  Look  at  its  results 
in  all  after  life,  and  is  it  a  small  matter  to  bury  the  noblest 
faculties  of  our  nature — faculties  which  distinguish  us  from 
brutes,  and  assimilate  us  to  angels?  It  cannot  be.  That  a 
desperate  course  of  depravity  is  worse,  is  surely  no  apology. 
The  results  of  mere  thoughtlessness  are  sufficiently  appalling. 

Another  source  of  danger  is,  bad  example.  We  are  influ- 
enced to  an  immense  extent  by  our  associates.  This  is  mani- 
fest in  all  history  and  in  all  experience.  It  is  a  common 
proverb,  that  "a  maiuii_kQown  by  Jhe  company  he^ keeps." 
Whatever  he  may  be  in  the  outset,  his  character  will  gradually 
become  assimilated  to  theirs.  "He  that  walketh  with  wise, 
men  shall  be  wise ;  but  a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  de- 
iStroyed."  On  this  principle  his  character  will  rise  or  sink  to 
the  common  standard  of  character  among  his  chosen  compan- 
ions. It  requires  a  watchfulness  and  independence,  a  depth  of 
principle  that  is  rarely  found,  to  associate  with  the  corrupt  and 
yet  escape  contagion.  The  most  that  is  left  for  every  man  is 
to  choose  his  companions,  and  having  made  the  choice,  he  must 
abide  the  result ;  for  the  result  is  as  sure  as  the  laws  of  nature. 
I  would  I  could  fix  it  upon  every  man's  mind,  that  he  might 
see  how  far  his  character  depends  upon  his  own  choice.  He 
can  choose  or  refuse  the  company  of  the  wicked,  but  having 
chosen  their  company,  he  cannot  expect  to  arrest  their  influ- 
ence.    He  has  thrown  himself  into  a  current  which  carries  him 


BANGERS    OF    YOUTH.  101 

along  in  spite  of  himself.  Lot  was  not  only  a  man  of  correct 
moral  principles,  but  of  piety ;  and  when  he  pitched  his  tent 
upon  the  plains  of  Sodom,  he  was  not  perhaps  fully  aware  of 
the  character  of  its  inhabitants.  But  by  settling  in  their  neigh- 
borhood he  had  thrown  himself  within  their  influence,  and 
though  the  process  went  on  so  gradually  as  to  excite  little 
alarm,  that  influence  ever  warred  upon  his  principles  and  wore 
away  his  piety.  His  household  were  all  infected  with  the  spirit 
of  the  place,  and  shared  in  its  destruction,  and  he  himself  was 
only  saved  so  as  by  fire.  His  piety  was  so  frittered  away  by 
constant  contact  with  pollution  that  scarcely  a  single  good  thing 
remained  in  him  toward  the  Lord  his  God.  If  the  company  of 
the  wicked  so  influenced  a  man  of  piety  and  of  mature  years, 
what  bounds  can  be  set  to  its  influence  upon  those  who  have 
no  such  safeguard  ?  The  first  appearance  of  abandoned  wick- 
edness is  usually  disgusting.  There  is  a  meanness  and  shame- 
fulness  about  it  which  is  abhorrent  to  a  young  and  unsophisti- 
cated mind.  There  is  also  an  apprehension  of  the  immediate 
danger  of  the  criminal,  and  a  readiness  to  ask,  where  is  the  God 
of  vengeance ;  and  many  a  young  man  has  shrunk  back  with 
horror,  when  casually  thrown  into  the  company  of  the  impious 
and  profane.  But  familiarity  reconciles  him  to  all  this,  and 
what  at  first  seemed  a  presumptuous  trifling  with  God,  becomes 
in  the  end  bravery  and  manly  daring — a  freedom  from  super- 
stitious fears — a  proof  of  independence. 
Well  has  the  poet  said, — 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mein, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen. 
But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 
9* 


102  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

The  mind  and  conscience  arc  defiled  by  familiarity  with  the 
vicious,  and  if  ready  wit  and  pleasing  manners  are  joined  to 
their  vices,  they  become  the  more  alluring,  and  deck  with  new 
charms  the  way  to  death.  Impiety  drops  as  the  rain,  and  dis- 
tils as  the  dew.  One  such  man,  of  facinating  manners  and  a 
knack  at  story-telling,  may  insinuate  all  that  is  vile  in  himself 
into  a  hundred  minds.  Minds  that  shrink  from  contact  with 
the  low,  vulgar,  and  vicious,  are  here  ensnared  to  their  own 
everlasting  ruin.  Familiarity  with  such  saps  the  foundation  of 
all  moral  principle,  while  all  that  is  pure  and  lovely  and  of 
good  report  vanishes  before  it. 

Let  no  young  man  who  associates  with  the  wicked,  say  to 
himself,  thus  far  will  I  go,  but  no  farther.  He  mistakes  their 
influence  and  miscalculates  his  own  strength.  Every  day's 
ftimiliarity  is  weakening  his  power  of  resistance,  and  weaving 
stronger  bonds ;  and  if  he  has  now  no  heart  to  resist,  how  shall 
he  have  when  wasted  powers  and  the  accumulated  current  shall 
increase  his  danger  a  hundred  fold  ?  Beware  of  familiarity 
with  the  vicious  and  unprincipled.  "Their  steps  take  hold  on 
hell,"  "going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death,"  and  "evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners."  "Blessed  is  the 
man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,  nor  stand- 
eth  in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scorn- 
ful." But  may  you  not  mingle  in  their  company  in  the  hope 
of  alluring  them  back  to  virtue  ?  Yes,  as  you  would  mingle 
with  inmates  of  a  hospital.  You  may  visit  the  abodes  of  mise- 
ry, but  you  would  never  make  your  home  with  disease  and 
contagion,  nor  select  the  wrecks  of  humanity  as  your  chosen 
companions. 

Another  source  of  danger  to  youth  is,  loose  and  partial 
VIEWS.     A  little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous  thing.     The  first 


DANGERS    OF    YOUTH.  103 

period  of  our  existence  is  governed  wholly  by  authority,  and 
though  the  government  is  in  many  respects  defective,  that  sea- 
son is  for  the  most  part  a  period  of  safety.  God  has  invested 
parents  with  an  authority  from  which  in  our  early  years  there 
is  no  appeal,  and  children  naturally  look  up  to  their  parents  as 
their  best,  almost  their  only  friends.  Their  instruction  is  re- 
ceived with  the  utmost  confidence,  and  their  decision  is  final ; 
and  it  is  only  after  children  have  been  repeatedly  deceived, 
that  they  become  at  all  suspicious.  Nature  teaches  them  to 
\  trust,  while  nothing  but  experience  teaches  them  to  doubt,  and 
\  a  large  stock  of  confidence  still  remains  after  the  experience  of 
a  thousand  deceptions.  The  great  object  of  government  should 
be  to  teach  men  to  govern  themselves  ;  and  the  government  by 
mere  authority  should  vanish  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of 
knowledge  and  the  maturity  of  reason.  While  the  authority 
of  the  parent  at  first  is  absolute,  it  becomes  gradually  less  and 
less  so,  as  the  child  becomes  more  capable  of  self-government. 
The  authority  of  the  parent  is  not  broken  up  at  once,  but  it 
gradually  vanishes  as  the  necessity  for  it  ceases.  Advice  is 
still  given  as  occasion  may  seem  to  require,  but  it  is  no  longer 
law.  Now  in  childhood  there  is  no  particular  danger  from  a 
little  knowledge,  because  the  child  is  not  cast  upon  his  own  re- 
sources. While  he  speaks  as  a  child,  understands  as  a  child, 
thinks  as  a  child.  Providence  has  made  provision  for  him  as  a 
child.  He  is  supported,  directed,  encouraged  and  restrained 
by  a  knowledge  not  his  own.  All  that  is  deficient  in  him  is 
made  up  in  another  quarter.  But  when,  by  reason  of  years, 
he  deems  himself  capable  of  self-government,  the7i  is  a  little 
knowledge  a  dangerous  thing.  A  man  in  age  and  a  child  still 
in  understanding,  with  knowledge  enough  to  spurn  the  control 
of  mere  authority,  and  too  little  for  self-direction.     This  state  of 


104  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

transition  from  parental  authority  to  self-control  is  tlie  most 
dangerous  period  of  human  life,  and  this  dangerous  pass  is  oc- 
cupied by  the  young.  The  conduct  of  a  few  years  ordinarily 
settles  their  destiny  for  time  and  for  eternity.  The  guardian 
care  of  others  has  brought  thera  thus  far  on  the  journey  of  life. 
Others  have  ministered  to  their  wants,  and  restrained  their 
wandering  footsteps,  and  others  still  feel  the  deepest  interest  in 
their  welfare.  But  henceforth  they  must  be  left  to  the  guid- 
ance of  their  own  minds.  They  may  be  followed  still  by  ad- 
vice and  entreaties  as  they  depart  from  the  parental  roof,  but 
parental  authority  has  ceased.  They  are  a  law  unto  themselves, 
and  self-conceit  is  usually  in  proportion  to  their  want  of  knowl- 
edge. "Without  a  little  knowledge,  they  might,  as  children,  be 
directed  by  others;  but  with  a  little,  they  spurn  all  control. 
How  many  young  men  have  thus  set  forth,  ignorant  of  the  real 
business  of  life,  like  a  vessel  without  a  rudder  or  a  compass,  at 
the  mercy  of  every  wind  and  every  wave.  If  here  and  there 
an  individual  has  escaped  destruction,  it  is,  as  far  as  he  is  con- 
cerned, the  merest  chance ;  but  the  great  mass  have  been  swal- 
lowed up  and  lost.  They  set  up  business  on  their  own  wis- 
dom, and  failed  for  want  of  stock.  A  little  knowledge  is  a 
foundation  on  which  self-conceit  rears  a  mighty  superstructure. 
It  blinds  the  mind  to  real  danger,  and  encourages  the  most 
visionary  hopes.  If  such  is  the  danger  of  loose  and  partial 
views,  how  earnestly  should  every  individual  seek  an  increase 
of  knowledge,  especially  of  that  knowledge  which  shall  be  as  a 
"lamp  unto  the  feet  and  a  light  unto  the  path."  This  alone 
is  real  wisdom. 

Loose  and  partial  views  of  things  are  rendered  still  more 
dangerous  by  passion ;  for  an  enlightened  mind  is  passion's 
strongest  curb.     I  mean  a  mind  that  can  look  beyond  present 


DANGERS    OF    YOUTH.  105 

gratification,  to  the  misery  that  follows  it.  There  is  a  transient 
pleasure  in  every  indulgence — a  pleasure  that  is  often  followed 
by  years  of  sorrow.  The  great  mass  of  capital  crimes,  which 
have  called  forth  the  vengeance  of  human  justice,  are  the  re- 
sult of  unrestrained  passion,  and  passion  grown  to  such  a  height 
as  shuts  out  all  view  of  consequences. 

The  vindictive  feelings  have  been  strongly  excited  by  real  or 
fancied  injury,  and  the  mind  broods  upon  the  sweetness  of  re- 
venge. No  higher  gratification  can  be  conceived  than  the  de- 
struction of  the  hated  object ;  but  no  sooner  is  the  work  of  re- 
venge accomplished,  than  the  whole  scene  is  changed.  Passion 
subsides,  and  the  mind  shrinks  back  in  terror.  The  excitement 
which  has  urged  on  to  the  deed,  gives  place  to  fear  and  shame 
and  unavailing  regret.  What  would  the  murderer  give,  if  the 
victim  of  his  heated  passion  were  but  alive  again,  and  the  record 
of  his  crime  could  be  blotted  from  his  conscience.  What  years 
of  sorrow  await  him  while  haunted  by  the  constant  reflection 
that  the  deed  can  never  be  undone.  Have  you  never  dreamed 
of  mingling  in  the  strife  ?  While  fancy  pictured  the  exciting 
scene — the  provocation  and  the  deep  revenge,  and  the  blood- 
stained victim,  and  you  have  awaked  in  an  agony  of  horror  and 
an  unavailing  effort  at  flight — and  as  you  looked  back  upon 
the  dark  scene,  what  joy  to  find  it  was  all  a  dream.  You 
would  not  have  it  reality  for  worlds.  Where  passion  is  unre- 
strained, subject  to  every  temptation,  and  exposed  to  every  ex- 
citement, any  day  may  see  it  a  reality. 

There  is  danger  from  passions  of  another  kind ;  and  to  these, 
perhaps,  the  apostle  more  particularly  refers — the  sensual,  li- 
centious DESIRES.  In  this  matter  the  customs  of  society  have 
made  a  very  unecjual  and  unjust  distribution  of  guilt.  The 
seducer  may  rise  again — the  seduced,  never.     One  false  step 


106  REV 

forever  blasts  her  fame.  The  victim  sinks  to  rise  no  more — 
her  own  sex  being  the  judges.  Nor  is  this  sentence  too  severe. 
The  importance  of  the  interest  at  stake,  and  the  strength  of 
temptation,  and  the  extent  of  exposure,  demands  the  most  pow- 
erful safo2;uards,  and  tlie  victim  is  set  forth  as  a  beacon  to  warn 
others  from  wretcliedness  and  woe.  But  is  not  the  same  safe- 
guard equally  and  even  more  strongly  demanded  on  the  other 
side,  where  the  exposure  is  greater  and  the  temptations  more 
numerous?  Why  then  this  partial  and  unjust  judgment  in 
favor  of  the  greater  criminal  ?  But  though  the  customs  of  so- 
ciety may  deal  out  disgrace  with  an  unequal  hand,  the  judg- 
ment of  God  makes  no  distinctions.  Nor  can  the  criminal  him- 
self efface  the  memorials  of  his  guilt,  and  the  higher  he  rises  in 
society,  the  more  extensively  does  it  spread  abroad  the  evidence 
of  his  shame.  Instances  are  not  wanting  at  the  present  day, 
of  men  who  have  obtained  the  highest  political  distinction, 
whose  elevation  has  served  but  to  herald  abroad  the  sins  of 
their  youth.  But  the  judgment  of  others  is  comparatively  a 
small  matter.  There  is  a  judge  within,  and  a  Judge  above, 
from  whose  decision  there  is  no  appeal.  Besides,  the  direct 
effect  of  licentious  passion  gratified  is  awful.  Says  the  apostle, 
it  "wars  against  the  soul."  There  is  no  gratification  that  is 
purchased  at  so  high  a  price,  for  there  is  no  other  that  puts  in 
such  peril  the  interests  of  the  undying  soul.  It  wars  against  the 
purity  of  the  soul,  staining  all  its  powers  and  faculties.  It  wars 
against  the  dignity  of  the  soul,  taking  that  which  in  its  nature  is 
fitted  for  companionship  with  angels,  and  debasing  it  to  the  low- 
est purposes,  and  covering  it  with  everlasting  shame.  It  wars 
against  the  peace  of  the  soul,  introducing  confusion  and  unut- 
terable woe.  It  wars  against  the  liberty  of  the  soul,  bringing 
it  into  bondage  to  the  basest  passions  and  appetites.     It  wars 


DANGERS    OF    YOUTH.  107 

against  the  very  life  of  the  soul,  as  its  whole  tendency  is  to  ex- 
tinguish the  light  of  the  mind,  in  the  grossness  of  the  flesh.  It 
is  a  crime  against  the  body  as  well  as  the  soul,  and  it  oflfers 
both  on  the  altar  of  sensuality,  a  living  sacrifice  to  the  Devil. 
Says  a  keen  observer  of  human  nature,  Paley,  "  However  it 
may  be  accounted  for,  it  corrupts  and  depraves  the  mind  and 
moral  character  more  than  any  single  species  of  vice  whatever. 
That  ready  perception  of  guilt,  that  prompt  and  decisive  reso- 
lution against  it  which  constitute  a  virtuous  character,  is  seldom 
found  in  persons  addicted  to  these  indulgencies.  They  prepare 
an  easy  admission  to  every  sin  that  seek«  it.  They  are  in  low 
life  usually  the  first  stage  in  men's  progress  to  the  most  desper- 
ate villainies,  and  in  high  life  to  that  lamented  dissoluteness  of 
principle  which  manifests  itself  in  a  profligacy  of  public  con- 
duct, and  a  contempt  of  the  obligations  of  religion  and  moral 
probity."  Add  to  this,  that  habits  of  libertinism  incapacitate 
and  indispose  the  mind  for  intellectual,  moral,  or  religious  du- 
ties or  pleasures.  Thus  their  war  is  against  every  principle  of 
right,  and  every  element  of  permanent  enjoyment. 

Such  are  some  of  the  dangers  to  which  youth  thrown  out 
upon  the  world  are  specially  exposed,  and  against  which  they 
should  guard  with  sleepless  vigilance.  All  these  dangers  may 
be  avoided  or  overcome.  No  individual  is  compelled  to  banish 
reflection  or  to  be  led  away  by  corrupt  example,  or  to  take 
loose  and  one-sided  views  of  men  and  things,  or  to  give  way  to 
the  reign  of  passion.  All  these  are  temptations  which  may  be 
resisted,  and  virtue  and  moral  principle  acquire  strength  by 
the  resistance. 

But  the  rights  of  virtue  and  piety  must  be  asserted  soon. 
All  delay  is  dangerous,  as  every  day's  hesitation  increases  the 
'power  of  the  enemy,  and  prepares  the  soul  to  be  led  captive  at 


108  RET.  D.  Merrill's  sermon?. 

his  will.  Wishes,  however  good,  will  not  avail.  A  few  fleet- 
inp;  resolutions  will  not  answer  the  exigencies  of  the  case. 
There  must  be  a  determined  purpose.  Nor  will  that  alone 
avail.  Human  resolution  form  but  a  slight  barrier  against  the 
current  of  human  depravity.  They  may  turn  it  aside  to  the 
right  or  left,  or  for  a  season  apparently  turn  it  back.  But  this 
affords  no  perfect  safety,  and  there  is  no  safety  but  with  the 
fixed  mind  and  determined  purpose  to  call  in  the  aid  of  a  high- 
er power  ;  and  that  aid  was  never  invoked  in  vain.  The  God 
whose  power  can  do  more  than  our  thoughts  and  wishes  and 
knowledge,  has  said,  "  Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  you,  seek 
and  ye  shall  find."  "He  giveth  power  to  the  faint,  and  to 
them  that  have  no  might  he  increaseth  strength."  "  They  that 
wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength;  they  shall 
mount  up  with  wings,  as  eagles ;  they  shall  run  and  not  be 
weary,  and  they  shall  walk  and  not  faint."  And  there  is 
special  encouragement  to  seek  in  youth  that  wisdom  which  is 
**  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that  now 
is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come." 


SERMON  YIII. 

TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY. 

Let  us  break  their  bands  asunder,  and  cast  away  their  cords  from  us. 
I'SALM  ii.  3. 

God  has  cast  the  young  afloat  upon  the  current  of  Jife,  but 
they  are  not  compellecl_jQ_J,oat-4in_inLd^[rkuess  or  at  the  mere 
will  of  another.  "  There  is  a  spirit  in  man  :  and  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Almighty  giveth  them  understanding."  But  if  this 
spirit  is  loose  from  all  restraint,  and  this  understanding  dark- 
ened through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  all  hope  of  ^a  happy 
voyage  and  a  joyous  haven  has  vanished.  A  wreck  is  inevita- 
ble. For  no  human  being  thus  loose  and  unfurnished  can 
weather  the  storms  of  life.  But  the  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty has  furnished  aliment  for  this  spirit  and  light  for  this 
understanding,  and  no  man  can  safely  neglect  or  shut  out  this 
light  that  shines  upon  him  from  heaven.  The  volume  of  God 
is  given  to  be  "a  lamp  unto  his  feet  arid  a  light  unto  his 
path,"  and  he  is  safe  only  while  he  gives  heed  to  it  "  as  unto 
a  light  that  shineth  in  a  dark  place." 

He  must  take  heed  to  his  ways  according  to  its  directions, 
and  yet  there  is  a  tendency,  especially  in  youth,  to  count  it  a 
cunningly  devised  fable — a  scheme  invented  and  sustained  by 
the  few  to  keep  the  many  in  awe.  It  has  often  been  thus  rep- 
resented, and  there  is  something  in  this  representation  that 
strikes  favorably  the  youthful  mind.  Fancy  paints  in  high 
colors  the  joys  of  unrestrained  freedom,  while  conscience  and 
10 


110  ri:y.  d.  Merrill's  sermons. 

religion  seem  stationed;  like  the  ancient  cherubim,  to  exclude 
them  from  these  joys.  Passion  and  appetite  prompt  to  indul- 
gences which  the  book  of  God  forbids.  Is  it  strange  that  they 
should  count  that  tlieir  enemy  which  seems  so  to  interfere  with 
their  enjoyment  ? — tliat  they  should  wish  it  untrue,  and  eagerly 
listen  to  any  breath  of  suspicion  against  its  divine  origin  ? 

My  subject  is,  the  tendency  of  youth  to  infidelity.  To 
the  religious,  this  tendency  can  can  be  very  easily  accounted 
for.  It  is  the  bias  of  corrupt  nature  against  God.  It  is  the 
result  of  the  carnal  mind  which  does  "  not  like  to  retain  God 
in  its  knowledge."  "  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God ; 
for  it  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be." 
Of  course  it  is  utterly  disinclined  to  credit  his  revelation.  The 
evidence  may  be  clear  enough,  but  the  whole  case  is  prejudged. 
The  mind  is  unprepared  to  weigh  the  evidence  impartially,  or 
submit  to  its  authority.  This  is  sufficient  as  a  general  expla- 
nation, and  cannot  fail  to  satisfy  all  those  who  are  sensible  of 
the  real  condition  of  human  nature.  But  under  this  general 
explanation,  other  and  particular  reasons  may  be  given,  whose 
force  to  some  extent  every  man  must  feel.  And  these  are 
necessary  to  answer  the  inquiry.  Why  are  youth  especially  prone 
to  infidelity  ?  I  answer, 
J  1.  From  their  limited  vieios.  A  little  knowledge  is  a  dan- 
(frerous  thin^;,  as  it  too  often  encourages  self-conceit,  and  lavs 
the  foundation  for  many  a  hasty  conclusion.  A  slight  and  im- 
perfect view  of  the  subject  is  taken  as  the  whole.  Judgment 
is  rendered  without  even  hearing  tlie  evidence.  A  few  second- 
hand objections  are  suffered  to  cover  the  whole  ground.  And 
these  owe  their  influence,  not  to  their  native  strength,  but  to 
the  solitary  view  which  is  taken  of  them.  They  stand  out 
alone.     Were  they  seen  in  their  connection,  in  many  cases  they 


TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY.  Ill 

would  cease  to  be  objections,  and  in  other  cases  the  answer 
would  be  manifest.  It  is  said  that  a  man  who  had  a  brick 
house  to  sell,  carried  round  a  brick,  taken  from  the  wall,  as  a 
specimen.  The  same  wisdom  has  taken  many  a  doctrine  or 
fact  from  the  Bible,  and  exhibited  it  as  a  specimen  in  the  same 
way.  It  is  truly  taken  from  the  Bible,  just  as  the  brick  was 
taken  from  the  wall ;  but,  out  of  its  connection,  is  it  any  speci- 
men ?  Yet  how  many  have  condemned  the  whole  Bible  from 
just  such  specimens  ! 

"It  is  true,"  says  Bacon,  "  that  a  little  philosophy  inclineth 
man's  mind  to  atheism,  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  men's 
minds  back  to  religion ; — for  while  the  mind  of  man  looketh 
upon  second  causes  scattered,  it  may  sometimes  rest  in  them 
and  go  no  farther  ;  but  when  it  beholdeth  the  chain  of  them, 
confederate  and  linked  together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  providence 
and  Deity."  While  only  here  and  there  a  link  in  the  chain  of 
evidence  is  discovered,  it  may  lead  to  infidelity,  and  thousands 
have  been  infidels  because  their  knowledge  has  borne  no  pro- 
portion to  their  self-conceit.  They  saw  a  very  small  part,  and 
hastily  concluded  that  they  had  seen  the  whole,  and  that  it  was 
unworthy  of  God.  The  only  remedy,  in  this  case,  is  an  in- 
crease of  knowledge ; — a  Utile  philosophy  must  give  place  to 
something  like  depth. 

2.  In  close  connection  with  this,  is  defective  training.  In 
the  religious  education  of  youth,  the  principal  things  have  not 
always  been  made  prominent.  The  religious  world  has  long 
been  divided  into  sects.  The  common  salvation  and  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  sect  have  been  taught  together,  as  resting  upon 
the  same  foundation — equally  true  and  equally  important. 
The  youth  perhaps  knows  no  other  Christianity  than  that  which 
belongs  to  his  own  denomination.     And  a  single  defect  discov- 


112  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

ered  there,  throws  suspicion  upon  the  whole.  He  has  been 
taught  that  both  rest  upon  the  same  authority, — are  equally 
true, — and  must  be  received  or  rejected  together.  In  his 
mind,  then,  a  single  defect  in  either,  saps  the  foundation  of  the 
whole. 

This  is  placing  Christianity  in  a  most  unfavorable  light,  as  it 
brings  it  to  a  test  which  its  author  never  established.  It  is 
placing  the  young,  who  are  just  beginning  to  inquire  for  them- 
selves, in  most  unfavorable  circumstances.  If  they  cannot  re- 
ceive the  whole,  the  only  alternative  is  the  rejection  of  the 
whole.  How  many  have  been  made  infidels  in  this  way. 
They  have  been  trained  in  all  the  extreme  peculiarities  of  the 
straitest  sect.  Many  of  these  peculiarities,  which  at  best  are 
of  doubtful  truth,  have  been  inculcated  with  more  earnestness 
on  that  account.  And,  though  they  were  ever  so  true,  they 
have  assumed  a  prominence  to  which  they  have  no  just  claim. 
They  are  taught  as  part  and  parcel  of  Christianity,  and  a  dis- 
covery of  the  slightness  of  their  foundation  shakes  the  whole 
system.  It  is  said  that  in  Eoman  Catholic  countries  the  edu- 
cated class  are  mostly  infidels.  The  whole  round  of  ceremo- 
nies which  are  so  diligently  taught  as  Christianity,  is  absurd, 
and  they  are  allowed  to  know  no  other.  Their  teachers  have 
left  no  alternative  but  to  receive  Christianity  as  they  teach  it, 
or  be  infidels.  The  same  course  is  pursued  to  no  small  extent 
among  Protestants,  and  produces  the  same  results.  Some  idle 
ceremony,  or  some  doubtful  tenet,  has  been  inculcated  with  all 
the  solemnity  of  religion  and  all  the  sanctions  of  eternity. 
"While  it  retains  its  influence,  the  result  is  a  narrow-minded, 
bitter  bigotry.  When  the  charm  is  broken,  and  its  influence 
destroyed,  the  mind,  left  loose,  too  often  swings  at  once  to  infi- 
delity.    The  trial  of  the  system  was  made  to  depend  upon  this 


TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY.  113 

one  point,  and  it  has  failed.  Thousands,  that  are  now  infidels, 
were  once  bigoted  sectarians.  Such  is  often  the  result  where 
truth  and  error  are  inculcated  as  supported  by  the  same  author- 
ity and  resting  upon  the  same  foundation.  A  discovery  of  the 
error  throws  the  whole  weight  of  suspicion  upon  the  truth. 

The  training  is  often  defective  in  another  way.  That  the 
mind  may  bo  free  from  unfounded  prejudices  and  sectarian  pre- 
dilections, nothing  is  taught.  To  escape  one  evil,  they  run 
into  another  and  more  fatal  one.  The  native  soil  brings  forth 
thorns  and  briers.  The  most  favorable  season  of  life  is  left 
wholly  to  the  control  of  Satan.  Tares  are  sown,  and  grow 
up  without  restraint.  The  mind  is  suffered  to  be  fully  occu- 
pied before  the  high  claims  of  religion  are  presented.  Satan 
is  there  with  all  his  train  and  strongly  fortified,  and  it  is  not 
reason  or  reasoning  that  can  dispossess  him.  The  heart  thus 
suffered  to  grow  up  in  wildness,  is  essentially  infidel,  though 
for  various  reasons  there  may  be  no  avowal  of  infidelity  or  even 
a  decent  respect  for  religion.  This  is  a  very  common  source 
of  infidelity.  The  truths  of  God  and  the  inventions  of  men 
are  twisted  together  and  inculcated  as  resting  upon  the  same 
authority.  The  discovery  that  a  part  is  false,  throws  suspicion 
upon  the  whole.  In  this  way,  strict  sectarianism  in  every  age 
has  been  the  handmaid  of  infidelity.  Nor  is  the  result  any 
more  favorable  when  the  mind  is  left  a  wilderness — a  waste 
land — not  sown  nor  tilled. 

3.  Another  source  of  infidelity  is,  the  conduct  of  too  many 
called  Chmstians.  The  name  Christian,  signifies  a  follower  of 
Christ ;  one  who  receives  his  instruction,  embraces  his  spirit, 
and  submits  to  his  authority.  But  it  has  been  bestowed  with 
a  most  unfortunate  and  lavish  liberality.  It  is  a  geographical 
term,  a  badge  of  national  distinction.  It  is  a  garment  whose 
10* 


114  KEY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

ample  folds  cover  all  classes  and  all  characters.  And  as  the 
original  signification  is  in  a  great  measure  lost,  no  wonder  it  is 
often  a  name  of  reproach.  A  Turk,  suspected  of  dishonesty 
and  double  dealing,  repelled  the  suspicion  with  scorn.  '*  Do 
you  take  me  for  a  Christian?"  said  he.  He  judged  of  Chris- 
tianity by  the  conduct  of  those  who  passed  under  its  name,  and 
deemed  it  a  reproach.  How  many  judge  in  the  same  way,  even 
in  a  land  of  Bibles  and  religious  books.  They  look  on  the  re- 
puted followers  of  the  Savior.  They  see  high  pretensions  to 
superior  sanctity  and  high  hopes  of  heaven, — great  zeal  for 
particular  doctrines,  and  great,  even  unaccountable  strictness 
in  particular  things,  accompanied  by  as  great  laxness  in  other 
things  of  equal  importance  and  more  practical,  e very-day  use. 
They  see  faith  exalted  at  the  expense  of  morals — the  obliga- 
tions to  God  made  an  excuse  for  neglecting  the  duties  to  man 
— the  first  table  of  the  law  arrayed  against  the  second.  They 
see  the  contention  of  sect  with  sect, — how  important  an  insig- 
nificant atom  becomes,  when  connected  with  the  interest  of  a 
party — with  what  zeal  division  walls  are  built  up  and  with 
what  pertinacity  defended — how  watchfully  Christians  guard 
against  each  other — how  those  who  are  nearest  together  in 
principle  are  often  widest  asunder  in  feeling.  They  follow  them 
into  the  shades  of  private  life,  and  mark  their  business  transac- 
tions. Are  they  more  honest  in  their  dealings,  more  faithful 
to  their  promises,  more  liberal  of  their  substance,  than  other 
men  ?  Are  they  above  taking  advantage  of  the  ignorance  or 
necessities  of  their  neighbors  ?  In  their  families  are  they  pat- 
terns of  all  the  domestic  virtues,  controlling  their  own  spirits 
and  ruling  their  own  households  well  ?  0  Lord,  enter  not  into 
judgment  with  us  !  Yet  men  judge  by  all  this,  and  religion  is 
approved  or  condemned  as  the  conduct  of  the  religious  shall 


TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY.       115 

meet  their  approbation  or  disapprobation.  How  often  do  they 
exclaim,  in  view  of  the  evils  which  they  behold,  if  these  are  the 
religious,  "0  my  soul,  come  not  thou  into  their  secret;  unto 
their  assembly,  mine  honor  be  not  thou  united."  The  conduct 
of  professors  has  been  a  most  fruitful  source  of  infidelity.  The 
religion  which  they  disobeyed,  or  failed  to  exhibit,  has  been 
condemned  for  their  disobedience.  Is  it  a  just  condemnation  ? 
Would  any  man  pretend  to  justify  it  in  any  other  case  ?  Those 
who  have  sought  occasion  against  religion  have,  unhappily,  too 
often  found  it  here,  and  they  have  found  it  by  overlooking  in 
a  great  measure  the  true  Israel,  and  fixing  their  attention  upon 
the  mixed  multitude  that  have  followed  the  camp. 

4.  Another  source  of  infidelity  is  an  uneasiness  of  restraint. 
"Man  is  born  like  a  wild  ass's  colt."  The  spirit  of  wildness 
and  willfulness  is  manifest  in  the  first  dawn  of  intellect.  The 
earliest  period  of  childhood  shows  restlessness  and  hatred  of 
restraint.  And  unless  its  spirit  has  been  previously  subdued, 
the  first  words  which  the  infant  learns  to  utter,  show  forth  the 
same  hatred  of  restraint.  The  words  which  body  forth  this 
spirit  are,  *'  No,"  and  "  I  won't."  The  child  is  often  familiar 
with  these  long  before  it  can  articulate  another  syllable.  The 
whole  system  of  training,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  is 
a  system  of  restraint ;  yet  how  imperfectly  is  the  work  accom- 
plished, after  all.  The  strength  and  variety  of  the  restraints, 
and  the  frequent  overleaping  all  restraints,  show  the  strength 
of  innate  willfulness  and  wildness — the  extreme  difiiculty  of 
taming  a  human  being.  There  is  first  the  family.  Even  if 
the  parents  have  no  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  children,  their 
own  peace  and  quietness  require  them  to  impose  a  strong  re- 
straint, else  their  house  is  converted  into  a  Babel.  Thus  their 
very  self-love  is  made  to  yield  good  fruit,  as  it  quickens  them 


116  REV.  D.  mehuill's  sekmons. 

to  the  performance  of  their  duty.  Where  a  better  spirit  pre- 
vails, and  the  welfare  of  the  child  has  a  prominent  place,  re- 
straint is  enforced  on  purpose  to  subdue  this  wildness,  to  form 
and  strengthen  habits  of  self-control.  Then  the  school  is  a  re- 
straint upon  the  vagrant  liberty  of  the  body  and  the  wild  wan- 
derings of  the  mind.  The  necessity  of  labor,  the  laws  of  the 
land,  the  rules  of  civility  and  politeness,  are  all  a  still  further 
restraint — all  tend  to  prevent  the  development  of  this  wildness 
and  willfulness,  and  so  far  to  subdue  them.  But  there  is  an 
internal  struggle  against  all  these,  until  habit,  by  confirming 
their  authority,  has  given  ease  under  them.  How  often  does 
the  child  burn  with  indignation  against  the  parent  when  some 
unlawful  pleasure  is  prohibited.  He  dares  not  disobey,  or  even 
give  utterance  to  his  feelings,  but  his  heart  is  ready  to  burst 
within  him  with  wrath  and  vexation.  He  sees  no  necessity  for 
such  a  restraint,  and  would  be  almost  willing  to  die  that  he 
might  vex  them  for  imposing  it.  Indeed,  I  heard  a  man  whose 
passion  and  willfulness  in  manhood  were  in  no  respects  pecu- 
liar, once  say  that  in  his  boyhood,  when  his  parents  had  for- 
bidden some  pleasure  upon  which  his  heart  was  set,  he  had 
gone  and  laid  down  under  the  fence  and  tried  to  die,  because 
he  knew  his  death  would  vex  them.  He  pleased  himself  with 
thinking  how  grieved  and  sorry  they  would  be  when  they  found 
him  dead. 

But  all  these  restraints  reach  only  that  which  is  external — 
the  liberty  of  speech  and  of  action.  And  if  they  are  resisted, 
much  more  will  that  be  which  seeks  to  lay  a  restraint  upon 
the  heart ;  which  looks  through  all  externals,  and  commands  or 
forbids  thoughts  and  feelings  and  emotions  of  the  mind,  and  en- 
forces its  authority  by  the  most  tremendous  sanctions,  by  ap- 
peals that  reach  the  most  secret  recesses,  and  vibrate  through 


TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY.       117 

every  nerve  and  fibre  of  the  frame.  The  stoutest  spirit  quails 
and  the  purest  heart  shrinks  from  so  close  and  accurate  an  in- 
spection. Here  is  a  restraint  -which  lays  hold  of  the  elements 
of  our  being.  It  "holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature,  to  show  sin 
her  own  features,  and  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the  very  age 
and  body  of  the  time  her  form  and  pressure."  And  will  there 
be  no  anxiety  to  throw  off  such  a  restraint,  and  turn  away  the 
gaze  from  such  objects?  Is  there  no  present  relief  in  the 
thoudit  that  all  this  is  a  dream — the  delusion  of  a  wanderino; 
fancy.  Infidelity  will  blind  the  mind  and  stupify  the  con- 
science, and  thus  enable  us  to  breathe  freely  and  hold  up  our 
heads  boldly.  Thousands  are  infidels  because  they  dread  the 
inspection  of  God  and  hate  the  restraints  of  religion.  Their 
lives  require  just  such  an  opiate  to  their  fears.  "  The  kings  of 
the  earth  set  themselves,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  together, 
against  the  Lord  and  against  his  Anointed,  saying.  Let  us 
break  their  bands  asunder  and  cast  away  their  cords  from  us." 
But  even  this  does  not  always  sufiice.  For  they  may  laugh  at 
hell,  yet  cry,  "  0  how  charming  if  there  is  no  such  place." 
The  stanchest  professors  of  unbelief  are  not  without  fearful  ap- 
prehensions that  their  foundation  is  in  the  dust.  Their  hearts 
often  quail  under  the  possibility  that  the  most  fearful  forebod- 
ings may  be  realized.  But  they  abhor  restraint,  and  infidelity 
gives  all  the  latitude  that  heart  can  desire. 

5.  Another  source  of  infidelity  is,  a  love  of  distinction — an 
ambition  to  appear  above  the  vulgar.  Young  men  and  even 
boys  affect  infidelity  for  the  same  reason  that  they  learn  to 
swear,  or  to  chew  tobacco.  It  gives  an  air  of  spirit  and  inde- 
pendence that  spurns  old  traditions  and  vulgar  prejudices. 
The  world  has  been  under  age  till  they  appeared,  and  the 
minds  of  the  wisest  have  been  enveloped  in  darkness;  but  their 


118 


SEV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 


lofty  intellect  has  bruslicd  away  the  cloud.  "  I  don't  believe 
the  Bible,"  said  a  boy  to  bis  associates — standing  on  tiptoe 
and  looking  very  wise  and  big  and  fierce.  Now  what  feeling 
was  at  work  there  ?  The  very  same  which  has  inspired  the 
whole  host  of  infidels  from  Voltaire  to  Paine  or  Fanny  Wright 
— an  affectation  of  superior  intelligence  and  an  anxiety  to  gain 
distinction.  And  they  have  gained  a  notoriety  in  this  way 
■which  such  talent  could  acquire  in  no  other.  The  fact  is,  very 
moderate  capacity  is  sufficient  to  form  objections  to  any  thing. 
On  this  ground  Swift  has  based  a  humorous  argument  against 
abolishing  Christianity.  Who  would  have  suspected  these  men 
for  men  of  talents,  if  they  had  not  had  Christianity  to  attack  ? 
Had  they  written  in  its  defence,  their  writings,  so  inferior  to 
those  of  a  host  of  Christian  writers,  would  never  have  been  read. 
Had  they  written  on  any  other  subject,  their  books  would  have 
sunk  into  oblivion.  But  having  Christianity  to  attack,  they 
have  gained  an  astonishing  notoriety.  It  is  the  notoriety,  how- 
ever, of  a  robber,  or  murderer,  who  is  ushered  to  his  last 
account  with  more  pomp  and  parade  than  the  noblest  patriot 
or  the  purest  saint.  This  itching  desire  for  distinction  has  been 
a  fruitful  source  of  infidelity.  Men  who  could  rise  and  gain 
adherents  in  no  path  of  virtue,  as  infidels  are  "  damned  to  ev- 
erlasting fame."  They  are  remembered  as  an  inundation  or 
tornado  is  remembered — for  the  desolation  it  has  caused. 
Their  names  are  heralded  like  the  names  of  assassins.  Their 
talents  shine  like  the  exploits  of  a  desperado.  Is  it  a  distinc- 
tion worth  the  sacrifice,  to  be  remembered  as  an  execration  and 
a  curse  ? 

There  are  other  causes  continually  at  work.  Some  are  infi- 
dels in  self-defense.  They  were  once,  perhaps,  not  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  God — it  may  be,  deemed  themselves  citizens  of 


TENDENCY  OF  THE  YOUNG  TO  INFIDELITY.       119 

that  kingflom.  But  tlie  ^orld  spread  its  charms  before  them. 
By  degrees  their  attention  was  withdrawn  from  heavenly  things 
and  their  hopes  from  heavenly  objects,  and,  like  Demas,  they 
have  forsaken  God,  "  having  loved  this  present  world."  And 
they  have  sought  and  found  shelter  from  scorn  and  reproach  in 
blank  infidelity.  With  their  habits  and  course  of  conduct,  it  is 
the  only  shelter  they  can  find.  This  class  often  overact  their 
part,  and,  by  way  of  quieting  their  fears  and  justifying  their 
course,  manifest  a  special  opposition  to  religion.  Of  all  classes 
they  are  the  most  hopeless,  as  the  falsity  of  religion  is  claimed 
to  be,  with  them,  not  the  result  of  argument  so  much  as  a  matter 
of  experience.  They  have  tried  it,  and  found  its  nothingness. 
Now  combine  all  these  causes  which  are  continually  at  work, 
and  is  it  wonderful  that  in  the  face  of  all  the  light  of  truth 
there  should  still  be  infidels?  Is  it  not  rather,  on  the  con- 
trary, wonderful  that  their  influence  should  be  so  limited  and 
their  company  so  small  ?  What  but  the  manifest  light  and 
mighty  power  of  truth  could  keep  infidelity  so  much  in  check, 
and  keep  up  in  such  a  world,  and  against  such  opposition,  so 
much  even  of  the  semblance  of  religion  ?  The  very  existence 
of  Christianity  in  the  face  of  such  causes  working  for  its  ruin, 
is  itself  little  short  of  a  miracle.  There  are  limited  views,  en- 
couraging self-conceit  and  hasty  conclusions : — there  is  loose 
training,  the  mind  long  left  to  barrenness  or  burdened  with  hu- 
man inventions  incorporated  with  religion  : — there  is  the  un- 
worthy conduct  of  multitudes  that  range  under  its  banner ; — 
a  universal  uneasiness  of  restraint ; — an  anxiety  to  obtain  dis- 
tinction by  any  means ;  and  the  zeal  of  apostates  who  claim 
experience  in  proof  of  its  emptiness.  Had  it  been  a  cunningly 
devised  fable,  would  it  so  long  have  imposed  upon  the  credu- 
lity of  the  world  ?    Had  it  been  of  human  origin,  it  would  long 


120  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

since  have  been  swept  away,  leaving  not  a  wreck  behind. 
Had  its  foundation  been  in  the  dust,  it  would  long  ago  have  re- 
turned to  dust.  It  exists  now,  and  will  always  exist,  merely 
because  truth  is  eternal.  You  may  question  its  authority,  re- 
sist its  influence,  and  defy  its  sanctions.  You  may  say,  like 
those  of  old,  "  Let  us  break  their  bands  asunder,  and  cast 
away  their  cords  from  us."  And  as  of  old,  "  He  that  sitteth 
in  the  heavens  shall  lau2;h ;  the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  de- 
rision."  What  man  could  do,  has  been  done  already.  The 
dungeon  and  the  sword  and  the  burning  pile  have  been  tried 
in  vain.  Arsjument  and  satire,  ridicule  and  invective,  have 
long  since  been  exhausted.  Even  a  new  jest  at  its  expense 
has  not  been  invented  for  hundreds  of  years.  Some  are  occa- 
sionally revived  that  are  new  to  us,  but  they  were  invented  in 
ages  past.  The  foundation  was  laid  by  God  himself,  and  the 
power  of  man  to  destroy  the  foundation  and  arrest  the  progress 
of  the  building  has  been  spent  in  vain. 

"  What  though  the  gates  of  hell  withstood. 

Yet  must  this  building  rise  : 
'Tis  thine  own  work,  Almighty  God, 

And  wondrous  in  our  eyes." 


SERMON  IX. 

ox  THE  DEATH  OF  EEY.  L.  WORCESTEK  * 

That  ye  be  not  slothful,  but  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  pa- 
tience inherit  the  promises.    Hebrews  vi.  12. 

God  has  never  left  himself  without  witness.  His  mercy  and 
grace  have  been  manifested  in  every  age,  through  a  hundred 
generations.  His  people  have  been  scattered  along  the  whole 
track  of  time.  In  the  darkest  season  they  have  been  far  more 
numerous  than  is  generally  apprehended.  The  great  mass  of  them 
have  "served  their  generation  by  the  will  of  God,"  and  died 
unknown  to  the  world.  Having  performed  the  duties  of  their 
appointed  station,  they  finished  their  course  and  slept  in  peace. 
Their  memorial  has  perished  with  them  from  the  earth,  but 
their  record  is  on  high.  Of  those  whose  names  are  remem- 
bered, a  great  portion  are  known  only  by  the  things  which 
they  endured.  They  also  were  passing  quietly  through  life, 
but  persecution  and  affliction  dragged  them  into  fame.  The 
people  of  God  have  been  placed  in  every  variety  of  circum- 
stances, and  have  endured  all  conceivable  suffering.  And  the 
"trial  of  their  faith,  being  much  more  precious  than  of  gold 
that  perisheth,  though  it  were  tried  with  fire,  was  found  unto 
praise,  and  honor,  and  glory."     After  they  had  patiently  en- 

*  When  Mr.  Worcester  died,  Mr.  Merrill  was  absent  on  a  journey  to  the 
West ;  and  the  sermon  at  the  funeral  was  preached  by  Kev.  David  Suther- 
land, of  Bath,  X.  H.  The  following  discourse  and  biographical  sketch  were 
delivered  on  Sunday,  June  14,  1846.  The  facts  concerning  Mr.  W.  were  com- 
municated by  himself  some  time  before  his  death,  expressly  for  use  in  this 
sermon.  T.  S.  P. 

11 


■i--  KEY.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 

diired,  tliey  oLtained  the  promises.  The  pathway  through 
earth  to  heaven,  tlien,  is  no  new  or  untrodden  path.  It  has 
been  traveled  in  every  age,  from  the  first  martyr  downward. 
Numbers  without  number  have  in  this  way  ascended  to  heaven. 
Christianity  presents  no  new  or  unattempted  enterprise.  We 
are  not  allured  by  hopes  which  can  never  be  realized,  or  dazzled 
by  a  glory  which  can  never  be  reached.  The  appeal  is  not  to 
imagination  or  fancy,  to  draw  us  on  to  a  desperate  enterprise. 
On  the  contrary,  it  appeals  to  facts, — what  man  has  done, — 
and  from  what  has  been  done  to  what  may  be  done.  It  pre- 
sents us  not  merely  the  enemies,  the  difficulties  and  the  glory ; 
but  the  enemies  overcome,  the  difficulties  surmounted,  the 
glory  attained.  It  requires  of  us  only  what  millions  of  our 
race  have  done  before  us.  It  points  to  the  saints  who  have 
obtained  the  prize.  You  see  what  they  were,  how  they  over- 
came, what  they  are  now,  how  glorious  their  elevation,  how 
high  their  enjoyment.     Be  ye  followers  of  them. 

Yet  their  example  too  often  fails  of  its  proper  influence. 
We  look  upon  them  as  a  kind  of  superior  beings.  We  stand 
at  a  reverent  distance  and  admire,  but  feel  that  it  would  be 
almost  presumption  to  think  of  imitating.  We  class  ourselves 
with  prophets,  and  apostles,  and  ancient  saints, — we  tread  in 
their  footsteps  and  aspire  to  a  participation  of  their  glory  !  What 
are  we,  miserable  mortals,  that  ever  such  thoughts  should  enter 
our  hearts  ?  We  can  hardly  persuade  ourselves  that  they  were 
mere  human  beings,  just  as  we  are.  And  while,  in  fancy,  we  ex- 
alt them  to  a  superior  rank,  we  lose  the  benefit  of  their  example ; 
for  it  seems  no  longer  the  example  of  mere  men,  and  so  no  longer 
a  specimen  or  an  evidence  of  what  man  can  be,  or  do,  or  reach. 
We  thus,  by  a  false  modesty,  deprive  ourselves  of  the  encour- 
agement which  their  example  is  recorded  on  purpose  to  give, 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.   AVORCESTER.  123 

and  perhaps  excuse  ourselves  from  ever  seeking  the  elevation 
and  glory  which  they  have  reached.  Freed  from  the  frailties 
of  humanity,  and  with  a  kind  of  angelic  nature,  well  might 
they  aspire  high,  and  reach  the  object  of  their  high  aspiring, 
too.  If  their  characters  had  been  drawn  in  angelic  colors, 
there  might  have  been  some  foundation  for  all  this.  But  the 
writers  of  their  history  never  adopted  the  old  motto,  and  as  ab- 
surd as  it  is  old,  "  speak  nothing  of  the  dead  but  good." 
Their  history  is  so  written  as  to  identify  them  with  humanity. 
For  it  was  well  understood  that  just  in  proportion  as  they 
seemed  not  to  be  human,  just  in  that  proportion  would  human 
beings  find  an  excuse  for  being  unlike  them.  Their  example 
would  benefit  and  attract  human  beings,  only  as  they  were  de- 
scribed and  felt  to  be  human.  This,  by  the  way,  is  one  great 
reason  why  their  frailties  and  sins  as  well  as  their  holiness  and 
devotion  are  put  on  record ; — to  show  us  that  they  were  human 
beings,  and  nothing  more.  Their  conflict  and  final  triumph 
was  the  conflict  and  triumph  of  human  nature — of  men,  not  of 
superior  beings  in  human  shape. 

This  matter  is  worthy  of  more  particular  attention,  as,  after 
all,  we  can  hardly  persuade  ourselves  that  they  had  not  greatly 
the  advantage  of  us.  Let  us  make  the  examination,  and  we 
can  hardly  fail  to  see  that  the  advantages  are  with  us,  rather 
than  with  them. 

I.  They  were  partakers  of  the  same  nature  with  us. 
Their  bodies  and  their  souls  were  constituted  like  ours.  They 
were  by  nature,  as  well  as  we,  children  of  wrath,  being  chil- 
dren of  disobedience — born  in  sin  and  shapcn  in  iniquity. 
Their  natural  perverseness  in  many  cases  was  strengthened  by 
years  of  evil  practice.  Of  Elijah  it  was  said,  he  was  "  subject 
to  like  passions  as  we  are," — that  is,  just  a  man,  as  we  are. 


124 


RET.    D. 


The  apostles  claimed  to  be  nothing  more.  "  We  also  arc  men 
of  like  passions  with  you."  They  had  not  merely  the  shapes 
of  men,  but  the  feelings,  the  sympathies,  the  infirmities,  the 
weaknesses  of  men.  In  this  respect  they  stand  upon  the  same 
level  with  us — no  higher  nature — no  nobler  faculties — encom- 
passed with  the  same  body  of  sin  and  death. 

II.  They  were  exposed  to  the  same  temptations, — the 
world,  the  flesh,  the  Devil.  These  three  beset  them  in  every 
form,  and  they  were  tried  in  all  points  as  we  are.  The  world 
spread  its  charms  to  allure  them  from  God.  Its  pleasures 
courted  them  as  they  do  us.  The  Mammon  of  unrighteousness 
showed  his  hoards  of  wealth,  and  the  distinctions  of  earth  ap- 
pealed to  their  affections  and  ambition  as  they  do  now  to  ours. 
In  the  service  of  God  they  went  against  the  current,  they  came 
out  and  were  separate  from  the  world.  They  contended  "not 
against  flesh  and  blood"  merely,  but  "against  principalities, 
against  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world, 
against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places."  All  that  has 
been  brought  to  bear  against  our  religion  in  these  latter  days, 
their  enemies  understood  and  employed  against  theirs.  There 
hath  no  temptation  taken  us,  but  such  as  was  common  to  them. 
On  the  contrary,  we  are  happily  free  from  much  that  was  -com- 
mon to  them, — "  mockings  and  scourgings,  yea,  moreover, 
bonds  and  imprisonment.  They  were  stoned,  they  were  sawn 
asunder,  were  tempted,  were  slain  with  the  sword  :  they  wan- 
dered about  in  sheep-skins  and  goat-skins,  being  destitute,  af- 
flicted, tormented."  But  we  dwell  in  quiet  habitations,  with 
none  to  molest  or  make  us  afraid. 

Then  frequently  how  solitary  was  their  religion.  AVe  come 
with  the  multitude  that  keep  holy  day,  and  hand  joins  hand  in 
the  service  of  God.     We  are  encouraged  by  the  example  of 


ON  TUE  DEATH  OF  REV.   L.   WORCESTER.  125 

others,  and  their  presence  keeps  us  in  countenance.  But 
Abraham  built  his  altar  alone,  and  worshipped  in  solitude,  with 
none  to  sustain  him  beyond  the  range  of  his  own  family.  The 
country  where  he  dwelt  a  stranger,  was  full  of  people.  But 
there  was  none  to  join  with  his  worship,  or  sympathize  with  his 
religion.  How  solitary  the  worship  and  how  desolate  the  feel- 
ing of  Elijah,  when  he  said,  "I,  even  I  only,  am  left;  and 
they  seek  my  life  to  take  it  away."  We  arc  made  for  society. 
We  rejoice  in  the  company  of  men  of  like  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings— and  the  more,  the  higher  our  enjoyment.  How  severe 
the  trial  of  solitude — how  difficult  to  be  faithful  among  the 
faithless.  We  are  sometimes-  tried  severely.  We  feel  that 
"  our  feet  are  almost  gone,  our  steps  have  well  nigh  slipped." 
But  we  have  never  had  the  trial  of  raising  a  solitary  standard 
for  God.  It  has  been  ours  simply  to  gather  round  a  standard 
already  raised  and  supported  by  ten  thousand  times  ten  thou- 
sand. In  the  common  calamities  of  life, — pain,  sickness,  pov- 
erty, bereavement, — the  ancient  worthies  shared  with  us. 
While  exempt  from  none  of  the  trials  that  assail  us,  they  suf- 
fered others,  many  and  severe.  Whatever  advantage  there  may 
be  in  point  of  exemption  from  trial,  it  is  with  us,  not  with  them. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  light  and  knowledge.  For  the 
plan  of  God  has  been  gradually  unfolded  and  his  character 
gradually  revealed.  His  light  shines  more  and  more.  But 
few  and  scattered  rays,  comparatively,  fell  upon  those  distant 
early  ages.  It  is  true  God  held  communion  with  some  of  them 
by  dreams  and  visions,  and  with  some  of  the  most  highly  fa- 
vored, talked  face  to  face.  But  this  was  only  at  distant  and 
uncertain  intervals,  leaving  long  tracts  between,  where  they 
must  live  on  the  remembrance  of  the  past.     For  the  most  part, 

"  the  word  of  the  Lord  was  precious  (i.  e.  scarce)  in  those 
11* 


12G  SEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

clays ;  there  was  no  open  vision."  Their  means  of  information 
in  the  things  of  religion  were  very  limited  in  comparison  with 
ours.  AVhat  was  then  set  forth  in  types  and  figures  is  now 
plainly  declared.  What  they  had  in  hints,  we  have  in  full,  ex- 
plicit terms.  What  they  saw  afar  off,  and  of  course  indistinct- 
ly, we  have  near  at  hand.  For  the  gospel  "  hath  brought  life 
and  innnortality  to  light."  The  light  that  shone  in  scattered 
rays  upon  generations  past,  is  combined  and  centered  upon  us 
in  the  finished  revelation  of  God  to  men.  We  have  what  they 
had  not,  the  complete  word  of  God,  "  tliat  the  man  of  God 
may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all  good  works." 
This  has  raised  us  to  an  elevation  of  privilege  which  saints  in 
the  early  ages  could  not  reach.  Have  you  not  read  what  the 
apostle  says,  "  these  all  having  obtained  a  good  report  through 
faith,  received  not  the  promise ;  God  having  provided  some 
better  thing  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be  made 
perfect."  The  Savior  says  to  the  same  amount:  "Among 
them  that  are  born  of  women,  there  hath  not  risen  a  greater 
than  John  the  Baptist :  nothwitlistanding,  he  that  is  least  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  is  greater  than  he."  The  least  in  the  king- 
dom has  greater  privileges  and  a  more  extensive  knowledge  of 
the  truth  than  John  the  Baptist,  and  therefore  may  be  brought 
into  a  closer  alliance  with  heaven  and  connection  with  God. 

III.  Tliey  had  no  greater  assistance  than  is  proffered 
TO  us.  Here  is  a  frequent  ground  of  mistake — supposing  that 
the  Spirit  was  given  to  them  in  larger  measures  than  to  us. 
They  had  the  promise,  which  we  have,  "ask  and  it  shall  be 
given  you."  They  had  the  assurance,  w'hich  we  have,  "if 
then  ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  chil- 
dren, how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him."     They  were  told,  as  we 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  RET.  L.  WORCESTER.  127 

are,  that  he  is  able  to  supply  all  their  needs  out  of  his  abun- 
dant fulness.  Perhaps  they  prayed  more  and  more  earnestly, 
and  with  more  confidence,  and  as  their  hearts  were  enlarged 
with  desire  and  expectation,  they  received  more.  But  the  same 
promises  which  sustained  them  are  left  on  record  for  us.  And 
in  addition,  we  have  the  fulfilment  of  those  promises  to  them. 
God  was  their  arm  every  morning,  and  their  salvation  every 
moment.  Is  he  not  as  ready  to  be  ours?  Indeed,  the  assist- 
ance granted  them  was  for  our  support,  "  that  we  through  pa- 
tience and  comfort  of  the  Scriptures  might  have  hope."  For 
they  were  assisted,  and  defended,  and  brought  off  conquerors, 
"  that  in  the  ages  to  come,  he  might  show  the  exceeding  riches 
of  his  grace  in  his  kindness  toward  them."  They  are  evi- 
dences of  the  greatness  of  his  love,  and  specimens  of  the  influ- 
ence of  his  grace,  and  the  power  of  his  spirit.  What  he  did 
for  them,  he  is  able  and  ready  to  do  for  us.  His  "  hand  is 
not  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save ;  neither  his  ear  heavy  that 
it  cannot  hear."  The  same  assistance  which  brought  them  off 
conquerors,  and  the  same  grace  which  made  them  so  holy,  is 
proffered  to  us.  He  did  for  them  nothing  more  than  he  is 
ready  to  do  for  each  of  us.  We  have  the  same  God  and 
Savior,  and  the  same  promises.  We  depend  upon  the  same 
Spirit,  who  can  do  for  us  as  he  did  for  them,  "  exceeding  abun- 
dantly, above  all  that  we  ask  or  think."  For  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  not  straitened  in  these  latter  days.  They  had  no  more 
assistance  than  is  proffered  to  us.  The  God  of  Abraham  and 
Isaac  and  Jacob  still  reigns,  and  his  promises  to  us,  as  to  them, 
are  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus.  "  I  will  never  leave  thee 
nor  forsake  thee."  "  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round 
about  them  that  fear  him."  God's  host  which  Jacob  saw,  and 
the  chariots  of  fire  and  the  horses  of  fire  which  surrounded 


128  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sedmoxs. 

Elislia,  what  are  they?  "Are  they  not  all  ministering  spir- 
its," and  are  they  not  noiu  "sent  forth  to  minister  for  them 
who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?  " 

lY.  They  had  no  greater  support  than  we  have,  or 
MAY  HAVE, — FAiTU  AND  PATIENCE.  They  werc  never  so  happy 
on  earth  that  there  was  nothing  in  present  or  in  prospect  to 
endure,  and  so  no  need  of  patience.  They  were  not  rapt  up 
into  the  third  heaven,  so  that  they  saw  all  things  clearly  with 
the  natural  eye  and  there  was  no  need  of  faith.  They  walked 
by  faith  and  not  by  sight.  The  trial  of  their  faith  wrought 
patience,  and  patience  experience,  and  experience  hope.  To 
all  the  assaults  of  their  enemies  they  opposed  the  shield  of 
faith,  and  the  helmet  of  salvation,  and  the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 
Their  confidence  in  God  bore  them  through  honor  and  dishonor, 
through  good  report  and  evil  report.  Their  own  experience 
confirmed  their  confidence  and  made  assurance  doubly  sure. 
Amid  all  the  trials  of  life  coming  from  a  thousand  sources,  faith 
and  patience  sustained  them.  Against  foes  without  and  foes 
within,  faith  and  patience  presented  an  impenetrable  barrier. 
"Through  faith,  they  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteous- 
ness, obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched 
the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of 
weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  turned 
to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens."  Patience  gave  fortitude 
in  suflfering,  and  "  after  they  had  patiently  endured,  they  ob- 
tained the  promise."  They  overcame  "  by  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,  and  by  the  word  of  their  testimony."  They  "were 
more  than  conquerers  through  him  that  loved  them."  Having 
lived  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  endured  the  trials  in- 
cident to  their  condition  in  life,  they  died  in  the  same  faith. 
Their  faith  was  sometimes  so  strong,  and  the  impression  of 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  129 

things  unseen  and  eternal  so  clear  and  vivid,  that  they  seemed 
to  sec  them.  This  was  the  case  frequently  near  or  at  the  close 
of  life,  especially  when  life  went  out  by  violence.  There  was 
uncommon  pressure  without  and  uncommon  strength  within. 
They  had  it  in  a  lively  faith  and  clear  views  of  eternal  things. 
Stephen,  sinking  to  death  by  violence,  saw  "the  heavens 
opened,  and  the  Son  of  man  standing  on  the  right  hand  of 
God."  Did  he  see  this  with  the  natural  eye  ?  Surely  not. 
But  with  a  strong  and  lively  faith,  which  "  is  the  substance  of 
things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen."  Nor  are 
such  visions  of  bliss  at  the  end  of  life  rare  at  the  present  day. 
The  same  support  is  given  now,  as  then.  Faith  and  patience 
always  triumph.  They  who  have  gone  before  us  to  the  heav- 
enly inheritance,  found  these  weapons  of  the  holy  war  mighty 
through  God.  And  mighty  through  God  they  are  yet.  Then 
what  advantage  had  the  ancient  saints  over  us  ? 

And  what  greater  encouragement  had  they  ?  They  knew, 
as  we  know,  that  the  work  of  faith  and  the  patience  of  hope 
could  not  be  in  vain — that  faith  would  ultimately  be  lost  in  the 
sight  of  him  "whom  having  not  seen  they  loved,"  and  that 
patient  endurance  here  wrought  out  for  them  "  a  far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory."  They  knew  that  ftuth 
and  patience,  having  their  perfect  work,  would  usher  them  into 
the  everlastino;  kino-dom  of  our  Lord  and  Savior  Jesus  Christ. 
In  view  of  this  glorious  result,  they  "bore  all  things,  believed 
all  things,  hoped  all  things,  endured  all  things,"  assured  that 
earth  has  no  sorrow  that  heaven  cannot  heal,  and  that  "the 
sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  the  glory  which  shall  bo  revealed  in  us."  And  have  not 
we  the  same  assurances?  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  wliiehdie  in 
the  Lord,  from  henceforth."     It  is  a  blessing  upon  the  dead. 


130  REV.    D.    M1:K11ILT/s    SKllMONS. 

pronounced  fur  the  comfort  of  the  living,  both  to  stay  their  tide 
of  sorrow  for  the  dead  and  to  encourage  their  hope  of  salvation, 
inasmuch  as  human  nature  has  triumphed  over  sin  and  death, 
and  re-entered  Paradise.  Wliat  encouragement,  then,  had 
they,  that  we  have  not  ?  We  have  the  promises  which  they 
had,  and  in  addition,  the  fulfilment  of  these  promises  to  them. 
The  encouragement  has  been  increasing  from  age  to  age,  as 
more  and  still  more  have  departed  from  earth,  leaving  the  tes- 
timony that  God  is  true  and  heaven  attainable.  These  wit- 
nesses are  not  patriarchs,  and  prophets,  and  apostles,  and  mar- 
tyrs, only, — rare  and  singular  specimens  of  humanity — master 
spirits  such  as  appear  once  in  an  age  or  so,  to  dazzle  us  and  dis- 
appear. They  are  people  of  every  variety  of  class  and  condi- 
tion— of  every  age — of  every  degree  of  intellectual  strength 
and  weakness.  Nor  are  they  all  strangers  to  us.  They  have 
gone  from  our  congregations,  from  our  neighborhoods,  from 
our  families  and  our  firesides,  to  join  the  cloud  of  witnesses 
above.  Have  they  done  what  we  cannot  do  ?  Have  they  at- 
tained an  elevation  that  is  beyond  our  reach  ?  Shall  we  shrink 
from  the  path  which  they  have  trod  ?  or  refuse  to  make  the 
sacrifices  which  they  have  made?  Shall  w'e  gaze  after  them, 
and  wonder,  and  admire,  and  praise,  and  not  even  attempt  to 
imitate  ?  Be  ye  followers  of  them,  as  ye  have  them  for  an  ex- 
ample. They  were  partakers  of  the  same  nature  with  us,  en- 
compassed with  the  same  infirmities,  and  exposed  to  the  same 
temptations.  They  had  no  greater  privileges,  no  more  assist- 
ance than  is  offered  to  us,  no  stronger  support,  no  higher  en- 
couragements. And  with  their  example  before  us,  shall  we 
stand  back,  not  daring  to  venture?  Do  you  call  yourself  a 
man,  and  not  dare  venture  where  men  have  gone  and  have  suc- 
ceeded?    Let  us  not  be  discouraged.     Have  we  strong  temp- 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  "WORCESTER.        131 

tations  ?  So  had  tlioy.  Have  we  doubts  and  misgivings  ?  So 
had  they.  Docs  the  flesh  in  us  lust  against  the  spirit  'i  It  did 
just  so  in  them.  Are  our  fears  at  times  stronger  than  our 
hopes  V     It  was  so  with  them. 

"  Once  they  were  mourning  here  below, 

And  wet  their  couch  with  tears  ; 
They  wrestled  hard,  as  we  do  now. 

With  sins,  and  doubts,  and  fears." 

Shall  we  be  discouraged  and  depart,  when  they  persevered  and 
gained  the  prize  ?  Let  us  hear  the  voice  of  the  apostle  :  "Be 
not  slothful,  but  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  pa- 
tience inherit  the  promises." 

The  instability  of  all  things  on  earth  urges  us  to  seek  a  bet- 
ter habitation — "  a  tabernacle  that  shall  not  be  taken  down." 
What  have  we  here,  that  this  earth  should  delight  us  so?  Our 
foundation  is  in  the  dust,  and  our  strongest  hopes  are  on  earth, 
or  are  built  upon  it.  "  The  wind  passeth  over  them,  and  they 
are  gone."  And  then  the  glory  that  lies  beyond  allures  us 
ODj  while  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect  beckon  us  to  be 
followers  of  them,  and  seek  with  them  a  habitation — the  eternal 
mansions.  While  their  example  and  success  invites,  and  the 
instability  of  earth  urges,  and  the  glory  not  yet  revealed  to  us 
allures,  let  us  "not  be  slothful,  but  followers  of  them  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promises." 

Another  has  been  added  to  the  company  of  the  just  made 
perfect — of  the  witnesses  that  God  is  faithful  and  heaven  at- 
tainable. An  old  man,  full  of  years,  has  given  up  the  ghost, 
died  in  »  good  old  ago,  and  been  gathered  to  his  people  ; — an 
old  man  known  to  us  all,  and  dear  to  us  all,  whose  example 
and  influence  we  all  have  felt,  and  whose  memory  will  be  long 


132 


KEY.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 


cherished.  Living  monuments  of  his  faitli  and  patience  re- 
main— living  monuments  of  an  active,  laborious  and  useful 
life.  While  it  is  easy  to  give  a  sketch  of  his  character  that 
•will  be  recognized — for  there  were  prominent  traits  known  and 
read  of  all  men — it  is  yet  diffiult  to  give  a  fair  and  just  descrip- 
tion. But  it  is  unmanly  not  to  attempt  what  we  can,  from  an 
apprehension  of  lacking  entire  success.* 

Leonard  Worcester  was  born  in  Hollis,  N.  H.,  January 
1st,  1767.  He  belonged  to  a  family  where  God  was  wor- 
shipped morning  and  evening ;  where  religion  was  prominent 
and  exemplified,  and  its  truths  taught  regularly  and  systemati- 
cally. The  father  was  not  satisfied  that  his  children  should 
acquire  their  religious  knowledge  at  hap-hazard.  What  he 
himself  believed,  with  unwearied  diligence  he  taught  them. 
The  main  principles  of  religious  truth  were  taught  Sabbath 
evening  after  Sabbath  evening,  from  year  to  year,  and  the  fam- 
ily grew  up  under  their  influence.  In  addition  to  this  home 
instruction,  through  the  regular  preaching  of  the  gospel  he  was 
early  taught  to  keep  the  Sabbath  and  reverence  the  sanctuary. 
His  literary  education,  as  far  as  direct  instruction  was  con- 
cerned, was  finished  at  a  common  district  school.  Academies 
and  Colleges,  not  so  common  then  as  now,  were  beyond  his 
reach.  His  religious  impressions  were  early  and  strong,  and 
often  very  pungent,  as  the  strictness  of  God's  Law,  the  holi- 
ness of  his  character,  and  the  retributions  of  eternity  were 
brought  to  mind.  Indeed  such  instruction  as  he  had  received 
could  not  be  in  vain.  It  restrained  from  evil  and  gave  power 
to  resist  temptation,  and  directed  to  the  right  course  of  conduct 

*  The  remainder  of  this  discourse  was  rewritten  by  the  author  and  pub- 
lished in  the  Vermont  Chronicle  of  August  12, 184C.  We  have  followed  the 
printed  copy  instead  of  the  original  MS.  T.  S.  P. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  133 

before  it  made  him  wise  unto  salvation.  At  the  age  of  15  he 
belonged  to  a  society  of  young  men  who  met  Sabbath  evening 
for  prayer  and  religious  exercises,  and  bore  his  part  with  them, 
though  he  did  not  unite  with  the  church  till  some  years  after. 

In  his  18th  year  he  was  apprenticed  to  Isaiah  Thomas  of 
Worcester,  Mass.,  to  learn  the  trade  of  printing. 

Here  a  new  scene  was  presented.  He  had  never  seen  the 
Sabbath  disregarded,  or  the  house  of  God  to  any  considerable 
extent  neglected,  and  he  had  scarcely  ever,  if  ever,  heard  a 
profane  oath.  But  his  new  habitation  and  company  were  not 
like  the  old.  A  general  looseness  upon  religious  subjects  pre- 
vailed, and  vices  that  he  had  never  known  stalked  abroad  in 
open  day.  Many  of  his  new  companions  partook  of  the  spirit 
that  prevailed. 

His  master,  distinguished  for  wealth  and  enterprise,  and 
business  talent,  and  withal,  for  a  whole-souled  nobleness  and 
generosity  which  seemed  to  recommend  his  very  vices,  was  the 
profanest  man  he  ever  knew.  It  was  a  severe  trial ;  and  there 
is  no  trial  more  severe  than  that  of  a  young  man  who  has  just 
left  the  quietness  and  peace  and  good  order  of  home — none 
that  shows  more  clearly  the  neglect  or  defects  of  religious  and 
moral  training.  And  if  a  young  man  can  pass  this  trial,  with 
his  principles  and  habits  unshaken,  the  great  extremity  is  past : 
the  bitterness  of  death  is  over.  How  many  who  promised  fail- 
have  failed  in  the  trial,  and  sunk  from  their  high  aspirings,  and 
from  the  hopes  of  their  friends  to  the  lowest  state  of  debase- 
ment. His  early  instruction  was  not  in  vain,  and  he  endured 
the  trial.  Without  setting  himself  as  an  example,  or  making 
an  ostentatious  display  of  superior  purity,  he  avoided  the  vices 
and  escaped  the  snares  that  beset  him. 

For  many  years  he  was  the  only  young  man  that   lelonged 
12 


134  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

to  the  clmrcb.  The  great  mass  of  tlie  members  in  Worcester 
were  people  advanced  in  life,  wbo  bad  joined  under  a  former 
and  clearer  and  more  efficient  dispensation  of  tbe  truth,  or  who 
could  afford  to  make  the  sacrifice  now  the  follies  of  youth  were 
past.  As  the  pious  were  few,  they  were  drawn  more  closely 
together.  His  being  alone  pious  of  the  young,  while  it  ex- 
posed him  to  peculiar  trials,  gave  also  peculiar  supports.  It 
led  to  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  his  seniors  in  the  church  ; 
and,  by  associating  with  mature  and  experienced  men,  his  prin- 
ciples were  confirmed  and  his  judgment  matured  while  we  was 
yet  unripe  in  years. 

His  occupation  gave  great  facilities  for  reading,  (for  his 
business  was  with  books,)  and  great  encouragement  for  com- 
posing. An  apprenticeship,  thus  spent,  prepared  the  way  for 
advancement.  Tbe  way  to  wealth  was  open  to  him  by  the 
offer  of  a  partnership.  Mr.  Thomas  bad  no  regard  for  relig- 
ion, but  he  knew  tbe  cash  value  of  tbe  intelligence,  the  busi- 
ness habits  and  tbe  stable  character  which  resulted  from  re- 
ligion. Such  a  partner,  so  intelligent,  and  efficient,  and  safe, 
could  not  but  increase  the  business  and  the  profits.  This  part- 
nership continued  for  several  years.  They  published  not  only 
books  to  a  large  extent,  but  also  a  newspaper,*  of  which  Mr. 
Worcester  was  editor.  And  had  this  business  been  continued, 
with  his  characteristic  tact  and  energy,  why  might  be  not  have 
been  among  tbe  wealthiest  of  the  land  ? 

Thousands  of  Christians  with  such  prospects  would  have 
continued  it.  No  hope  of  saving  souls  from  death  could  have 
diverted  them  from  it  for  a  moment.  They  would  have  said, 
'•'  It  is  an  opening  of  Piovidence  which  they  ought  to  enter — 

*  The  Massachusetts  Spy— T.  S.  1'. 


ox  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.   WORCESTER.  135 

or  a  leading  of  Providence  -which  they  ought  to  follow — they 
have  no  right  to  sacrifice  such  prospects  for  themselves  and 
families  which  Providence  holds  out  to  them."  Providence  I 
What  is  called  an  opening  of  Providence  and  pursued  and  jus- 
tified on  that  ground,  is  not  unfrequcntly  a  temptation  to  try 
men  and  prove  them,  and  see  what  is  in  their  hearts. 

"Whatever  may  have  been  his  thoughts,  ive  cannot  be  insen- 
sible of  the  sacrifice  which  he  made  of  earthly  prospects  to  be- 
come a  minister  of  the  gospel.  It  is  the  better  for  him  that 
he  made  the  sacrifice ;  for  what  would  all  this  wealth  be  to 
him  now  ?  And  if  it  was  better  for  him,  0  how  much  better 
for  us  !  But  it  ivas  a  sacrifice  to  quit  all  these  prospects  of 
wealth  and  distinction  for  Three  Hundred  Dollars  a  year,  lia- 
ble to  all  the  hazards  of  writs  of  ejectment,  and  undesirable 
and  undesired  translations. 

It  is  sometimes  complained  that  ministers  are  poor  econo- 
mists. AYell :  they  live  on  hope,  and  hope  is  almost  always 
prodigal.  "  They  have  not  the  shrewdness  and  the  tact  which 
belong  to  other  classes  of  men."  This,  to  a  limited  extent,  is 
true ;  as  it  is  often  felt,  however  unjustly,  that  theirs  is  not  the 
proper  field  for  such  qualities.  They  are  doing  a  great  work 
and  they  cannot  come  down.  Many  have  lived  and  died  in 
poverty  who  had  previously  shown  that  God  had  given  them 
all  the  power  to  get  wealth  which  has  distinguished  the  most 
successful.  And  some,  after  ministering  for  a  season  and  be- 
ing laid  aside  by  loss  of  health,  or  loss  of  voice,  or  some  of  the 
mischances  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  have  shown  that  power  revived. 
As  their  minds  were  diverted  to  other  and  nobler  objects,  it 
was  a  power  which  they  were  never  suspected  of  possessing. 
There  is  no  class  in  community  that  make  so  many  and  such 
varied  sacrifices  for  the  benefit  of  their  fellow  men  as  the  min- 


136  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

istry — sacrifices  of  wliicli  those  for  whom  they  are  made  are 
utterly  unconscious. 

Mr.  Worcester  was  settled  in  life,  and  prospering  in  busi- 
ness, with  every  prospect  of  wealth.  But  he  felt  a  deep  in- 
terest in  religious  things  and  made  them  his  study  long  before 
he  had  a  thought  of  changing  his  occupation. 

He  claimed  no  knowledge  of  any  language  but  his  mother 
tongue — good,  honest,  straight-forward  English.  But  then  he 
understood  that,  and  could  wield  it  with  a  power  that  few  could 
equal  or  resist.  And  even  the  grammar  of  this  language  he 
had  never  studied  in  the  schools.  He  learned  it  not  from 
grammar  books,  but  from  a  careful  reading  of  the  best  writers ; 
and  there  he  learned  the  power  of  the  language  and  bow  to  use 
it.  May  not  such  a  man  be  more  useful  in  the  ministry  than 
in  his  present  occupation  ?  His  advisers  were  the  wisest  and 
best  men  of  the  times — such  men  as  Dr.  Emmons  and  Dr. 
Austin. 

He  never  studied  Theology  according  to  the  present  mode, 
or  according  to  the  mode  then  in  vogue.  But  his  excuse  is 
oio  example  to  those  who  evade  all  the  means  of  instruction, 
and  go  into  the  ministry  like  Ephraim  of  old — "  a  cake  not 
turned  " — half  burnt  and  half  raw.  Let  them  show  the  same 
mental  discipline,  and  grasp  of  intellect,  and  extent  and  varie- 
ty of  knowledge,  before  they  plead  his  example  for  neglecting 
the  usual  means  of  instruction.  Without  any  time  specially 
and  entirely  devoted  to  theological  study,  he  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  gospel,  March  12,  1799,  by  the  Mendon  Associa- 
tion, at  a  special  meeting  held  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Emmons, — 
15  members  present.  The  Association  had  forms,  but  they 
had  also  good  sense  and  Christian  feeling,  and  were  not  so  the 


ox  THE  DEATU  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  137 

slaves  of  forms  as  to  make  tlie  lack  of  "a  regular  course,"  a 
bar  to  licensure. 

He  preached  twelve  Sabbaths  at  Milford,  Mass.,  and  came 
to  Peacham,  June  21,  1799.  The  people  of  Peachani  had 
long  desired  the  labors  of  a  settled  Pastor ;  and  though  many 
candidates  had  passed  in  review,  there  were  objections  of  one 
kind  or  other  to  all.*  And  the  more  candidates,  as  is  usually 
the  case,  the  more  unlikely  a  settlement.  In  one  instance  a 
call  was  given  by  the  church  from  which  the  people  happily 
dissented. t  The  class  of  bishops  without  a  church — sometimes 
called  "everlasting  candidates" — is  not  of  recent  origin. 
With  all  the  destitution,  there  was  a  kind  of  surplus  then  as 
there  is  now.  And  the  objection  of  a  surplus  to  every  effort 
for  increasing  the  numbers  of  the  ministry  was  as  real  and  as 
valid  then  as  now. 

Mr.  Worcester  was  recommended  by  two  young  men,  for- 
merly his  apprentices,  who  had  established  a  printing- office  and 
newspaper  at  Peacham. | 

He  came  partly  encouraged  by  the  invitation  of  the  church, 
and  partly  to  visit  those  young  men  who  had  lived  so  long  with 
him  and  had  now  shown  their  regard  for  him,  but  with  slight, 
if  any,  expectations  of  settlement,  and  preached  four  Sabbaths  ; 
having  appointments  in  other  places  which  prevented  his  longer 


*  This  sentence  might  mislead  one  not  acquainted  with  the  facts.  '•  In  1791 
the  Eev.  Israel  Chapin  was  regularly  invited  to  become  the  Pastor,  and  an 
agreement  was  entered  into  with  him,  to  which  a  large  majority  of  the  people 
acceded,  though  there  was  some  opposition.  Why  the  connection  was  not 
consummated,  I  think  I  was  never  informed."— Tie i\  L.  Worcester's  Sermon, 
^'•Wliathath  God  ivrought,'^ p.  8.  T.  S.  P. 

t  This  call  was  to  Kev.  Stephen  Williams.— T.  S.  P. 

t  Amos  Farley  and  Samuel  Goss,  in  February,  1798,  established  at  Peach- 
am,  "The  Green  Mountain  Patriot,"  Avhich  was  continued  till  March, 
1807.  •  T.  S.  P. 

1-2* 


138  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

stay.  But  every  man  has  his  place,  though  some  work  long 
before  they  discover  it,  and  some  apparently  never  make  the 
discovery.  Here  was  his  place,  as  was  evidenced  by  a  unani- 
mous call  from  the  church  and  people.  Separate  from  the 
unanimity  and  the  hope  of  usefulness  through  it,  there  was 
nothing  specially  inviting,  as  there  was  no  meeting-house,  and 
the  whole  field  was  new.  But  it  gave  the  privilege  which  he 
highly  prized,  of  not  building  on  another  man's  foundation. 
The  path  of  duty  seemed  plain,  and  the  call  was  accepted  with- 
out hesitation. 

He  was  installed,  October  30,  1799.* 

It  was  a  happy  day  for  Peacham.  The  church  had  received 
an  answer  to  their  prayers,  in  a  Pastor  in  whom  they  had  full 
confidence  and  from  whose  labors  they  indulged  large  expecta- 
tions. And  the  people,  like  Micah  of  old,  said,  "  Now  we 
know  that  the  Lord  will  do  us  good,  seeing  we  have  a  Levite 
to  our  Priest."  And  each  party  showed  their  joy  and  cele- 
brated the  event  in  their  own  way — the  former  by  prayer  and 
praise — the  latter  by  music  and  a  dance.  And  as  this  latter 
method  of  celebrating  events  and  showing  joy  often  brings  a 
sting,  and  leaves  a  sting  behind,  they  found  it  so — an  extra 
sting:  in  the  next  Sabbath's  sermon. 


*  The  council  Avhicli  ordained  Mr.  Worcester  consisted  of  the  following 
members :  From  Worcester.  Mass.,  Eev.  Sam'l  Austin  and  Dea.  John  Cham- 
berlain ;  Tliornton,  N.  H.,  Kev.  Koah  Worcester,  Moses  Foss ;  Newbury,  Vt., 
Kev.  Nathaniel  Lambert,  Dea.  James  Bailey,  Jeremiah  Ingalls ;  Salisbury, 
N.  H.,  Kev.  Thomas  Worcester,  Dea.  Amos  rettengill ;  Danville,  Yt.,  Rev. 
John  Fitch,  Dea.  Israel  Brainerd,  John  Short ;  Hollis,  N.  H.,  Eev.  Eli  Smith, 
Noah  Worcester,  Esq.,  Capt.  Wm.  Tenney ;  Waterford,  Vt.,  Eev.  Asa  Car- 
penter, John  Grow,  E.sq.  Mr.  Lambert  made  the  introductorj'  pra}'er,  Mr. 
Austin  preached  the  sermon ;  Mr.  Smith  made  the  ordaining  prayer,  Mr.  N. 
Worcester  gave  the  charge,  Mr.  T.  Worcester  the  right  hand.  Mr.  Carpenter 
made  the  concluding  prayer.  The  sermon,  (2  Cor.  iv.  5.)  charge,  and  right 
hand,  were  published.  T.  S.  P. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  139 

The  meetings  were  held  for  seven  years  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Academy.  In  1806  a  meeting-house  was  erected  at  an  ex- 
pense of  more  than  five  thousand  dollars. 

This  lar2;e  house  was  filled  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  for  more 
than  thirty  years.  The  power  of  truth,  with  the  influence  of 
tact  and  varied  talent  in  showing  it  in  a  clear  light  and  setting 
it  home,  always  drew  a  crowd  of  listeners.  And  so  strong 
was  the  go-to-meeting  propensity  that  emigrants  from  abroad, 
who  had  lost  the  habit,  or  never  had  it,  were  soon  uniformly 
drawn  to  the  house  of  God.  Men  of  loose  principles  and 
looser  lives  fell  in  with  the  current.  Whatever  they  might  do 
or  neglect  in  other  places,  at  Peachara  they  all  went  to  meeting. 

The  church  at  his  installation  consisted  of  forty  members 
only,  himself  making  the  fortieth.  It  was  considered  a  matter 
of  importance  at  that  time  that  a  Pastor  should  be  a  member 
of  the  church  to  which  he  ministered.  The  increase  of  the 
church  was  by  no  means  rapid.  This  was  not  to  be  expected, 
as  there  was  an  immense  preparatory  work  to  be  done.  The 
foundations  must  be  laid  deep  and  broad,  before  any  thing  sub- 
stantial could  be  built  upon  them.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
hot-house  process,  by  which  a  church  could  be  made  to  grow 
up  in  a  night  (and  the  night  is  peculiarly  favorable  to  such  a 
growth)  and  perish  in  a  night.  He  sought  not  temporary,  but 
permanent  results.  During  the  first  sixteen  years  of  his  min- 
istry there  were  comparatively  few  conversions.  And  yet  per- 
haps he  was  never  more  usefully  employed  than  during  those 
years.  If  there  was  no  great  increase  of  the  church,  impedi- 
ments were  removed,  and  minds  enlightened,  and  the  way  pre- 
pared for  increase.  And  when  the  way  was  thus  prepared, 
the  Spirit  came  in  a  revival  which  continued  more  than  two 
years.     As  the  result  of  the  revival  of  1817  and  '18,  two 


140  EEV.  D.  Merrill's  serjions. 

hundred  and  thirty-tlirce,  as  appears  from  the  records,  united 
with  this  church.  The  blessed  effects  of  that  revival  are  mani- 
fest still,  after  a  period  of  almost  thirty  years.  Many  of  its 
fruits  have  been  gathered  into  the  garner  of  God,  and  many  are 
scattered  through  the  land.  But  a  considerable  proportion 
still  remain,  among  whom  is  the  present  Pastor  of  the  church. 
In  1831  and  '32,  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  were  added  to  the 
church  as  the  fruits  of  the  revival  in  those  years.  During  Mr. 
Worcester's  ministry  five  hundred  and  seventy-one  were  added 
to  the  church, — making  an  average  of  something  more  than 
sixteen  yearly.  His  ministry  of  forty  years  was  rich  in  direct 
results,  to  say  nothing  of  the  indirect  and  incidental.  In  1838 
he  began  to  feel  the  infirmities  of  age.  And  frequent  attacks 
of  disease  seemed  to  render  it  advisable  that  he  should  no 
longer  be  depended  upon  for  permanent  labors.  His  mind 
was  in  sufiicient  vigor  to  see  and  feel  the  decay,  and  he  had  no 
desire  to  continue  his  labors  till  the  decay  should  become  man- 
ifest to  all  but  himself. 

His  formal  connection  with  the  church  was  never  dissolved, 
till  now  death  has  sundered  it,  though  for  some  seven  years 
past  he  has  ceased  to  act  as  Pastor.  It  was  fit  that  he,  who 
had  so  long  and  so  successfully  been  Pastor,  should  retain  the 
name  while  life  lasted,  even  though  he  could  no  longer  actively 
perform  its  duties. 

Through  increasing  infirmity  and  repeated  severe  attacks  of 
disease,  death  was  often  brought  near,  even  at  the  door.  But 
he  contemplated  his  departure  without  shrinking.  He  knew 
in  whom  he  had  believed.  His  mind  was  at  rest  in  the  assur- 
ance that  the  great  business  for  eternity  was  settled.  He  could 
not  but  be  conscious  that  his  labors  had  not  been  in  vain.  Ho 
had  received  grace  to  be  faithful — and  grace  to  see  that  faith- 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.   WORCESTER.  141 

fulness  crowned  with  success.  But  he  arrogated  nothing  to 
himself.  Before  God  he  had  no  plea  but  the  merits  of  the 
Savior.  His  mind  dwelt  with  childlike  simplicity,  and  confi- 
dence, and  hope,  upon  the  great  and  glorious  fact — that  "it  is 
a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  It  was  his  only 
hope,  and  it  was  enough.  Thus  he  met  death  quietly  and  in 
peace.  He  finished  his  course  May  28,  1846.  He  died  to 
live.  He  has  vanished  from  the  circles  of  this  world.  His 
voice  is  no  more  heard  nor  his  footsteps  seen  on  earth. 

"  So  sinks  the  day-star  in  his  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky." 

It  will  be  seen  at  once  that  Mr.  Worcester  was  a  man  of 
strong  original  mind.  Slight  and  partial  views  of  a  subject 
never  satisfied  him.  He  longed  to  know  the  whole — to  reach 
the  heights  and  fathom  the  depths.  The  traditions  of  the 
Fathers,  and  the  opinions  of  those  about  him,  had  little  influ- 
ence with  him.  He  felt,  like  Job,  "  I  have  understanding  as 
well  as  you."  There  was  no  disposition  to  receive  at  second 
hand  the  thoughts  of  others,  cut  and  dried  and  maJe  up  to  or- 
der. His  conclusions  were  the  results  of  personal  investiga- 
tion, and  he  was  not  to  be  drawn  or  driven  from  them  by  hard 
names  or  harsh  epithets.  He  "  gave  place  by  subjection,  no, 
not  for  an  hour."  And  every  attempt  to  subdue  or  crush  was 
resisted  with  all  the  force  of  his  great  mind.  He  was  not  to 
be  "taught  with  thorns  of  the  wilderness  and  briers,"  as  Gid- 
eon taught  the  men  of  Succoth.  There  was  a  strong  instinc- 
tive abhorrence  of  slavery — most  of  all  of  mental  servitude — 
all  that  would  check  free  thought  and  lay  its  deadly  grasp  upon 


142 


REV.    D.    MERIIILL  S    SERMONS. 


the  mind.  He  dreaded  no  tliinhing  far  more  than  the  danger 
of  wrong  thinking — a  dead  body,  that,  hiid  straight,  would  re- 
main so,  unless  galvanized  into  life  or  quickened  by  a  devil, 
far  more  than  the  unseemly  contortions  of  a  living  man. 

And  as  tending  to  produce  this  dead  sameness  he  dreaded 
all  large  combinations  with  a  stereotype  theology  that  must  be 
taken,  or  at  any  rate  confessed  entire,  and  a  pyramid  of  offi- 
cers, tier  over  tier, — Deacon,  Priest,  Bisliop  ;  or  Priest,  Elder, 
Bishop ;  or  Presbytery,  Synod,  Assembly, — rising  above  to 
crush  all  manliness  beneath,  and  save  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
church  from  all  necessity  of  personal  thinking — from  anything 
but  to  ^;«y  and  obey.  In  this  view  he  looked  with  suspicion 
upon  all  attempts  to  draw  closer  the  bands  of  denomination — 
even  upon  Consociations,  as,  however  convenient  to  the  officers, 
injurious  to  the  body  of  the  church.  Anything  that  tended,  in 
his  opinion,  to  remove  the  power  from  the  body  of  the  church, 
met  his  decided  opposition. 

He  was  an  out  and  out  Congregationalist — not  that  he  de- 
pended much  upon  forms  of  Government,  in  themselves  con- 
sidered, but  as  tending  to  develop  or  depress  individual  char- 
acter. He  would  do  nothing  to  compromit  the  rights  of  indi- 
vidual churches.  His  caution  in  this  matter  was  remarkable 
and  extreme,  and  his  fears  no  doubt  excessive,  though  we  may 
live  to  regret  that  the  age  had  not  furnished  more  such  men. 
So  much  was  this  a  passion  with  him,  that  his  carttion  some- 
times bordered  upon  the  ludicrous. 

He  was  as  liberal  and  hopeful  of  others,  as  independent  him- 
self. They  were  not  cut  or  stretched  to  suit  his  measure,  or 
left  out  of  the  pale  of  Christianity,  if  they  failed  to  meet  his 
measure.  He  was  ever  ready  to  say,  "  Grace  be  with  all  them 
that  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity," — however  they 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  143 

might  in  some  respects  differ  from  liim.  And  this  he  did, 
without  being  at  all  doubtful  of  his  own  views,  or  considering 
them  unimportant.  There  was  a  charitable  hope,  while  any- 
thing was  left  to  hang  a  hope  upon,  that  they  received  the 
truth,  though,  viewing  it  from  a  different  position,  they  saw  it 
in  a  different  way  and  used  different  language. 

He  had  great  hopefulness  for  the  world.  It  is  not  unusual 
for  the  aged  to  feel  that  every  thing  is  going  backward,  and 
that  a  wreck  is  near  at  hand.  "  What  is  the  cause  that  the 
former  days  were  better  than  these?"  He  felt  that  religion, 
since  his  remembrance,  had  made  a  great  and  rapid  advance, 
that  religious  principle  was  far  more  prevalent,  and  religious 
character  far  more  common  and  mature  than  in  his  early  years. 
These  days,  though  evil,  were  still  better  than  the  former. 
And  his  heart  was  cheered  with  the  hope  of  better  days  still, 
though  he  should  not  live  to  behold  and  enjoy  them.  His  feel- 
ing was  like  that  of  the  Patriarch,  "  Behold,  I  die  ;■  but  God 
shall  be  with  you,  and  bring  you  again  into  the  land  of  your 
fathers." 

His  presence  and  counsel  were  often  sought  in  church  diffi- 
culties ;  and  he  had  a  rare  faculty  to  discover  where  the  real 
difficulty  was,  and  to  remove  it.  Almost  all  serious  troubles 
in  the  church  have  arisen  from  covert  or  dishonest  modes  of 
doing  business.  His  knowledge  of  business,  and  his  having 
been  in  business,  gave  him  an  advantage  over  most  of  his  breth- 
ren in  the  settlement  of  church  troubles. 

Though  deprived  of  the  advantages  of  early  thorough  instruc- 
tion, he  set  a  high  value  upon  them,  and  was  anxious  that  all 
should  enjoy  them.  It  is  the  common  fault  of  self-made  men 
to  undervalue  all  that  has  not  assisted  in  their  elevation.  They 
have  risen  to  eminence  without  the  help  of  college  or  academy, 


144 


REV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMON'S. 


and  the  uselessness  of  these  schools  seems  a  fair  inference. 
There  was  no  feeling  of  this  kind  with  him.  And  he  had  no 
fear  of  being  eclipsed  by  the  youth  of  the  congregation  study- 
ing what  had  not  fallen  within  his  province. 

His  personal  appearance  was  commanding,  tall,  and  of  full 
proportions  in  middle  life,  and  erect  to  the  last — a  frame,  large, 
compact,  strong,  and  capable  of  much  endurance — a  fit  habita- 
tion for  such  a  mind.  His  appearance  upon  first  sight  was  for- 
bidding, rather  than  attractive.  The  rigid  and  the  severe  pre- 
vailed over  the  sweet  and  the  inviting.  He  was  not  a  sociable 
man — easy  of  access  and  free  in  conversation.  In  the  compa- 
ny of  strangers,  reserved,  while  the  youth  felt  an  oppressive 
awe  in  his  presence,  and  chose  rather  to  admire  at  a  distance 
than  hazard  a  too  near  approach.  In  his  visits  among  his  own 
people  he  was  more  a  listener  than  a  talker,  unless  a  subject 
was  presented,  or  he  was  roused  by  opposition.  He  had  little 
of  the  small  talk  which  is  so  useful  as  a  circulating  medium, 
though  there  was  a  vast  improvement  in  this  respect  in  his  lat- 
ter years.  This  deficiency  might  have  been  fatal,  had  it  not 
been  supplied  by  his  connection  once  and  again  with  one  of  the 
most  amiable  and  sociable  of  her  sex.  The  preacher  gave  a 
charm  to  the  meeting-house,  the  preacher's  wife  to  the  visit. 
With  all  his  resolution  and  force  of  mind,  he  was  naturally 
bashful  and  easily  put  to  the  blush. 

He  never  appeared  in  the  pulpit  without  full  written  prepa- 
ration ;  and  what  he  had  written,  he  had  written.  With  his 
commanding  personal  appearance,  his  voice  and  manner  corres- 
ponded. His  voice  was  strong,  clear,  and  sweet ;  and  his 
manner  ardent  and  energetic.  Some  of  his  prepared  sentences, 
containing  important  truth  in  a  small  compass,  were  repeated 
in  a  tone  and  manner  that  rung  again  like  a  distant  clap  of 


ox  THE  DEATH  OF  RET.   L.   WORCESTER.  145 

thunder  followed  by  one  close  at  hand.  Many  of  his  sermons, 
delivered  thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  are  remembered,  not  merely 
by  those  who  were  then  of  mature  years,  but  by  those  who 
were  at  the  time  quite  young.  The  sermons,  perhaps,  were 
not  so  very  extraordinary,  or  might  not  appear  so  in  print ; 
but  with  his  voice  and  manner  they  made  lasting  impressions. 
Few  ministers  have  preached  so  many  sermons  that  are  remem- 
bered. For  without  being  personal,  the  principles  of  the  Bible 
were  brought  home  to  the  state  and  condition  of  his  hearers, 
and  adapted  to  time  and  circumstances.  His  knowledge  of  the 
people  of  his  charge  was  particular  and  exact.  Few  events, 
good  or  evil,  escaped  him.  I  have  often  wondered  how  a  man 
of  his  silent  and  retired  habits  ever  knew  so  much  of  the  state 
of  his  flock. 

He  was  not  exempt  from  severe  trials,  as  sickness  and  death 
often  invaded  his  habitation.  Of  nine  children  that  came  to 
maturity,  five  finished  their  course  before  him.*  There  is  a 
natural  sorrow  when  children  bury  their  parents,  and  natural 
tears  that  soon  are  dried.  It  is  but  the  course  of  things  on 
earth.  But  when  parents  bury  their  children,  and  one  after 
another,  as  if  their  last  coal  was  to  be  quenched  in  Israel,  there 


*  Elizabeth  Hopkins,  died  30  March,  1817,  ret.  20 ;  Jerusha,  died  3  Nov., 
1829,  ast.  25;  Leonard,  grad.  Dart.  Coll.  1825,  Teacher  of  High  School  for 
young  ladies  in  Worcester,  Mass.,  and  Newark,  N.  J.,  died  24  Aug.,  1835,  aet. 
36;  Evarts,  grad.  Dart.  Coll.  1830,  Preceptor  Caledonia  Co.  Grammar  School, 
Peacham,  1830-31,  Tutor  in  Dart.  Coll.  1832-33,  commenced  preaching  at  Lit- 
tleton, N.  H.,  April,  1835,  was  ordained  there  17  March,  1836,  died  21  October, 
1836,  at.  29 ;  Hannah,  died  22  31ay,  1838,  ffit.  37.  Five  children  died  young. 
The  four  survivors  are,  Kev.  Samuel  Austin,  grad.  U.  V.  M.  1819,  Andover 
Theo.  Sem.  1823,  Missionary  to  the  Cherokees;  Rev.  Isaac  Keddington,  M.  D. 
Dart.  1832,  Pastor  in  Littleton,  N.  H.,  Sec.  Vt.  Dom.  Mi.ss.  Soc,  Dist.  Secre- 
tary A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  Auburndale,  Mass.;  Rev.  John  Hopkins,  grad.  Dart.  Coll. 
1833,  Tutor,  1835-36,  Pastor,  St.  Johnsbury,  Vt.,  and  Burlington,  Vt. ;  Ezra 
Carter,  M.  D.  Dart.  1838,  Tlietford,  Vt.  T.  S.  P. 

13 


14G  KEY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

is  another  kind  of  sorrow,  more  deep  and  bitter,  as  the  course 
of  nature  seems  reversed. 

His  defects  were  such  as  belong  to  his  peculiar  cast  of  mind 
— strength,  that  stood  apart,  not  fully  sympathizing  with  hu- 
man weakness — and  that  was  late  to  learn  the  extent  and 
bounds  of  its  own  power — an  independent  spirit  that  could 
scarcely  brook  control  or  desert  a  position  once  taken — a  san- 
guine temperament  that  could  hardly  conceive  itself  wrong. 
There  was  the  honest,  and  the  just,  and  the  pure ;  but  too 
slight  an  admixture  of  the  lovely  and  the  amiable.  But  these 
defects  in  great  measure  disappeared  as  he  advanced  in  life. 

His  repeated  afflictions  had  their  influence  in  correcting  the 
natural  sternness  and  severity  of  his  character,  but  most  of  all, 
those  great  revivals  in  which  he  bore  so  important  a  part. 
These  revivals  in  their  way  were  perhaps  no  less  beneficial  to 
him  than  to  the  people,  melting  and  mellowing  down  the  rigid 
and  the  forbidding,  and  bringing  his  heart  more  in  sympathy 
with  men.  But  we  need  not  dwell  upon  his  defects.  He 
never  claimed  perfection  ;  nor  do  we  claim  it  for  him,  or  speak 
of  him  in  terms  of  universal  eulogy. 

He  has  finished  his  course  and  retired  to  rest ;  but  his  works 
live  after  him,  not  only  in  this  the  principal  scene  of  his  labors, 
but  everywhere,  where  the  young  people  of  Peachani  are  scat- 
tered. They  owe  much  of  their  success  in  life  to  him,  as  their 
established  principle,  their  determined  energy  and  perseverence 
were  caught  from  him.  They  will  feel,  when  they  learn  his 
departure,  as  we  feel,  that  a  great  man  has  fallen. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  REV.  L.  WORCESTER.  147 

Note.  Mr.  Worcester  was  town  clerk  of  Peacham,  1805-39  ; 
a  member  of  the  board  of  trustees  of  Caledonia  County  Grammar 
School,  1800-39  ;  secretary  of  the  board,  1812-39  ;  president  of 
the  board,  1829-39  ;  a  member  of  the  corporation  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Vermont,  1818-21,  (the  last  three  years  of  Dr.  Samuel 
Austin's  presidency.) 

He  received  the  honorary  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  from  !Mid- 
dlebury  College  in  1804,  from  Dartmouth  College  in  1827. 

His  publications  were  : 

Letters  and  Remarks  occasioned  by  a  Sermon  of  Rev.  Aaron 
Bancroft  on  the  Doctrine  of  Election. 

An  Oration  on  the  Death  of  General  Washington. 

A  Fast  Sermon,  on  "  Jeshurun  waxed  fat  and  kicked,"  &c. 

A  Sermon  on  the  Highway  and  Way,  Is  a.  xxxv.  8. 

Answer  to  a  Sermon  of  Rev.  Wm.  Gibson  in  opposition  to  the 
foregoing  Doctrine  of  Atonement. 

A  Sermon  on  2  SaxM.  vii.  27.  Determination  of  God  an  En- 
couragement in  Prayer. 

A  Sermon.     Men  sometimes  act  as  their  own  worst  enemies. 

Inquiries  occasioned  by  an  Address  of  the  General  Association 
of  N.  H.  on  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity.     Signed  Cephas. 

A  Sermon.  The  Confession  of  Faith  of  the  Church  of  Christ 
in  Peacham  defended.     Montpelier,  1818,  8vo.  pp.  39. 

A  Funeral  Sermon.     The  Christian  desires  to  be  with  Christ. 

An  Appeal  to  the  Conscience  of  Rev.  Solo.  Aiken  concerning 
his  Appeal  to  the  Churches.     INIontpelier,  1821,  8vo.  pp.  IG. 

A  Sermon  delivered  in' Park  Street  Church,  Boston,  Aug.  25, 
1825,  at  the  Ordination  of  Rev.  Elnathan  Gridley  and  Rev.  Sam'l 
A.  Worcester,  Missionaries.     Boston,  1825,  8vo.  pp.  30. 

A  Sermon  on  the  Alton  outrage.  Concord,  N.  H.,  1838,  8vo. 
pp.  IG. 

A  Memorial  of  what  God  hath  wrought,  a  Sermon  delivered  in 
Peacham,  March  31,  1839.     Montpelier,  1839,  8vo.  pp.  10. 

T.  S.  P. 


SERMON  X. 

ox  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  TOOE. 

Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might;  for  there  i*  no 
work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  thou 
goest.     ECCLESLVSTES  ix.  10. 

Human  life  is  viewed  in  different  ways  by  different  persons, 
and  by  the  same  person  at  different  times.  Each  speaks  of  it, 
and  thinks  of  it,  as  he  has  found  it,  or  according  to  his  feeling 
at  the  time.  One  regards  it  as  a  season  of  enjoyment.  "  Go 
thy  way,  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and  drink  thy  wine  with  a 
merry  heart ;  for  God  now  accepteth  thy  works.  Let  thy  gar- 
ments be  always  white ;  and  let  thy  head  lack  no  ointment. 
Live  joyfully  with  the  wife  whom  thou  lovest,  all  the  days  of 
the  life  of  thy  vanity,  which  he  hath  given  thee  under  the  sun, 
all  the  days  of  thy  vanity  :  for  that  is  thy  portion  in  this  life, 
and  in  thy  labor,  which  thou  takest  under  the  sun."  Another 
regards  it  as  a  scene  of  trial  and  affliction — vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit.  "Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity."  To  one 
its  shortness  is  a  ground  of  despair.  "  My  days  are  swifter 
than  a  weaver's  shuttle."  Life  is  so  short,  that  it  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  attempt  any  thing.  What  is  the  use  ?  What 
is  the  use  of  study  or  of  labor — of  honor  or  of  wealth  ?  We 
shall  soon  be  gone,  and  never  return  again,  and  what  is  the 
use  to  sow  a  field,  when  we  may  never  reap?  or  build,  when 
we  may  never  inhabit  ?  To  another  its  shortness  is  an  incen- 
tive to  pleasure.  Let  us  live,  while  we  do  live.  "  Let  us  cat 
and  drink,  for  tomorrow  we  die." 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  149 

To  those  who  view  human  life  as  the  whole  of  existence,  it 
is  no  great  matter  which  extreme  they  take."  Their  joy  as 
well  as  their  sorrow  is  as  insipid  as  the  laughter  of  a  fool, — 
"the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot," — the  joy  and  sorrow 
of  an  animal,  rather  than  of  a  rational  being. 

But  life  has  a  determinate  object,  and  to  accomplish  that 
object  all  the  powers  and  faculties  must  be  brought  into  action. 
However  much  it  may  include  of  both,  it  is  not  a  scene  of  mere 
enjoyment  or  suffering, — a  heaven  or  a  hell.  It  is  a  state  of 
probation,  and  all  its  concerns,  its  business,  labors,  joys,  and 
sorrows,  are  important,  as  they  lay  hold  of  eternity,  and  form 
habits  and  characters  for  eternity.  Life  is  a  school,  in  which 
the  great  lessons  learned  have  their  use  in  the  future.  It  may 
be  more  or  less  useful  for  the  present,  but  its  principal  impor- 
tance is  in  the  future.  Its  value  is  not  in  what  it  produces 
just  now,  but  the  foundation  it  lays  for  future  productions ; 
not  what  it  gives  in  actual  possession,  but  the  capacity  it  gives 
to  acquire  and  retain.  It  is  an  apprenticeship  in  which  we  are 
to  grow  up  in  the  knowledge  and  practice  of  all  that  is  honest, 
and  just,  and  pure,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  He  is  not 
the  successful  man  who  has  accomplished  the  greatest  present 
results,  any  more  than  he  is  the  wise  man  whose  mind  is  bur- 
dened with  the  greatest  load  of  knowledge.  He  that  has  ac- 
quired the  most  wealth,  may  be  only  like  the  scholar  whose 
powers  of  thinking  are  stifled  by  a  load  of  other  people's 
thoughts.     The  text  presents  several  things  for  consideration. 

I.  There  is  somethlsg  to  do. 

II.  It  is  that  which  presents  itself.  "  Whatsoever  thy 
hand  jindeth  to  do,  do  it.^' 

III.  It  must  be  with  our  might — the  best  we  can. 
lY.  There  is  no  time  to  lose. 

13* 


150  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

I.  There  is  something  to  do.  Life  is  a  scene  of  action. 
Life  is  not  a  holiday  or  a  pastime.  Neither  our  natures  or  cir- 
cumstances admit  of  this ;  and  those  whose  circumstances  ad- 
mit the  nearest  approach  to  it,  are  the  most  insignificant  of 
the  race.  Coming  soon  to  maturity,  they  soon  fade.  Obtain- 
ing all  the  necessaries  of  life  easily,  they  have  no  strength  of 
character,  or  firmness  of  nerve, — no  energy  in  action,  or  power 
of  endurance.  Whatever  may  be  the  capacities  of  their  na- 
tures, or  the  powers  of  body  or  mind,  they  die  out  in  idleness. 
Having  but  few  wants,  and  those  wants  easily  supplied,  there 
is  no  stimulant  to  action.  Their  powers  are  never  called  forth, 
and  their  weakness  and  imbecility  of  body  are  but  indications 
of  the  state  of  the  mind.  Such  is  the  race  where  the  bounties 
of  nature  are  scattered  in  the  greatest  profusion  and  there  is 
neither  storm  nor  cold  to  demand  a  shelter — inefficient,  effemi- 
nate, idle,  unthinking — ^joining  to  the  age  and  size  of  manhood 
only  the  bodily  and  mental  powers  of  children,  as  with  the  in- 
crease of  years  without  exertion,  there  has  been  no  increase  of 
strength  to  either.  Such  would  have  been  the  race  every- 
where, had  everything  been  furnished  to  our  hands — all  our 
land  properly  cleared  and  tilled,  houses  built  and  furnished, 
and  provision  and  clothing  both  for  protection  and  ornament 
supplied  without  our  care — had  we  been  preserved  from  sick- 
ness, or  an  infallible  remedy  presented  so  clearly  as  to  make 
ignorance  or  mistake  impossible.  Yet  we  sometimes  wonder 
that  a  good  Providence  had  not  done  all  this,  and  so  prevented 
all  necessity  for  labor — and  made  life  a  dull  round  of  idleness 
and  ennui,  or  a  scene  of  dissipation  and  wickedness.  We 
sometimes  wonder  and  complain  of  Providence,  that  he  has 
furnished,  so  to  speak,  but  the  raw  material,  leaving  it  to  be 
brought  into  a  usable  and  useful  shape  by  human  contrivance 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  151 

and  labor.  As  if  his  love  for  us,  like  the  love  of  many  a  fond 
and  foolish  earthly  parent,  would  make  such  arrangements  as 
to  prevent  our  improvement. 

He  has,  however,  furnished  but  the  raw  material,  and  hu- 
man ingenuity  and  labor  must  do  the  rest.  Here  is  the  land, 
under  heaven's  rain  and  sunshine,  fertile  in  thorns  and  briers, 
that  might,  had  God  so  willed  it,  have  produced  with  equal 
fertility  all  that  nourishes  and  comforts  man — thus  dispensing 
with  all  the  labors  of  the  husbandman,  and  dispensing,  too, 
with  all  the  tact,  and  knowledge,  and  discretion,  and  hardihood 
that  have  been  acquired  in  cultivating  the  soil.  Here  is  the 
mountain  stored  with  mineral  wealth,  that  might  have  been  scat- 
tered upon  the  surface  in  just  the  shape  that  is  needed,  thus 
dispensing  with  all  exercise  of  body  or  mind.  And  so  with  ev- 
erything else.  Furnishing  the  raw  material,  he  has  left  space 
and  inducement  for  illimitable  improvement,  as  one  advances 
upon  the  discovery  or  invention  of  another ;  and  every  labor- 
saving  invention  but  forms  an  outlet,  and  furnishes  a  demand 
for  labor  in  other  ways.  All  things  are  full  of  labor,  and  the 
demand  for  it  from  man  is  constant  and  unceasing  from  the 
commencement  to  the  close  of  his  earthly  career.  His  very 
position  and  circumstances  on  earth  demand  it,  while  revelation 
joins  in  to  confirm  and  record  the  demand.  "  Six  days  shalt 
thou  labor."  "  Why  stand  ye  here  all  the  day  idle  ?  "  "Go 
to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise  ; 
which  having  no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth  her  meat 
in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her  food  in  the  harvest."  All 
improvement  of  body  or  of  mind  is  by  exercise,  and  that  exer- 
ercise  is  labor.  We  come  into  the  world  the  most  helpless  and 
dependent  of  all  creatures,  with  body  and  mind  in  all  the 
weakness  of  infancy ;  the  faculties  of  both  are  to  be  brought 


152  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

out  and  matured  by  exercise.  There  is  an  immense  difference 
between  an  infant  and  a  full  grown  man.  It  is  a  difference 
that  labor  makes,  as  labor  makes  the  difference  between  the 
civilized  and  the  savage.  He  that  has  his  powers  most  com- 
pletely developed,  or  under  the  fullest  control — that  can  do 
the  most — is  the  highest  style  of  man.  The  power  of  doing, 
while  it  includes  strength  of  body,  much  more  includes  knowl- 
edge how  to  apply  that  strength.  This  power  to  do — a  power 
enlarged  and  matured  (almost  created)  by  use,  is  the  source  of 
all  distinction.  It  is  on  this  power  that  society  rests  its  de- 
mand upon  its  members.  Do  something — '*  do  it.^''  Don't 
dream  away  life  in  gloomy  or  joyful  visions.  Don't  waste 
your  energies  in  fancying  what  you  would  do  with  other  powers 
or  in  other  circumstances.  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do,  do  it.'*''  It  is  on  this  power  to  do,  that  God  rests  his  de- 
mand, and  makes  his  claim,  and  it  is  the  doer  that  meets  his  ap- 
probation and  receives  his  reward.  "Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  itr 

But  II.  Do  WHAT  ?  There  is  so  much  to  be  done — not  so 
much  if  it  could  be  equally  distributed  among  all  the  race,  and 
each  would  do  his  part — but  so  much  as  to  startle,  almost 
overwhelm  him  who  inquires  simply  for  the  path  of  duty.  Do 
what?  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do."  Do  what  is 
present  and  pressing  in  the  circumstances  in  which  Providence 
shall  place  you — leaving  it  for  him  to  open  the  way,  as  what  is 
now  future  shall  become  present.  Few  things  are  less  matters 
of  deliberate  choice  than  our  occupation.  It  is  often  a  matter 
of  great  excitement  and  anxiety  with  young  people,  what  call- 
ing they  shall  pursue,  and  the  matter  is  determined  by  events 
over  which  they  have  no  control.  Their  calling  is  not  forced 
upon  them — it  is  their  choice — yet  made  when  they  were  in  no 


ox  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  153 

condition  for  a  deliberate  choice,  or  in  such  circumstances  as 
forbade  every  other  choice.  Few  in  after  life  have  found  them- 
selves what  in  youth  they  had  expected.  They  had  made  their 
calculations  very  deliberately,  and  very  wisely — had  laid  the 
whole  track  of  the  future,  scarcely  a  step  of  which  has  been 
traveled.  They  have  been  led  in  a  way  which  they  knew  not, 
and  to  results  of  which  they  had  no  anticipation.  All  their  plans 
have  been  crossed,  yet  there  has  been  no  force  but  the  force  of 
circumstances  operating  upon  thinkino*  beings.  Doing  what 
their  hands  find  to  do  to-day,  they  are  ready  for  what  their  hands 
may  find  to  do  next  year,  or  ten  years  hence.  Doing  what  in 
present  circumstances  is  right,  they  are  prepared  to  do  well  in 
any  circumstances.  As  man's  occupation  is  to  him  for  the  most 
part  an  accident — chosen  for  him  by  his  parents  or  friends  in 
his  youth,  or  forced  upon  him  by  circumstances  in  after  life — so 
it  is  a  matter  of  very  little  importance  to  him  what  it  may  be. 
He  may'  show  all  good  fidelity  and  desire  to  serve  his  gener- 
ation, and  secure  the  great  end  of  life, — the  approbation  of 
God  in  it,  whatever  it  may  be.  It  may  be  less  conspicuous,  or 
less  honored  of  men,  but  it  is  not  the  less  honorable,  or  less 
noticed  of  God — or  if  followed  faithfully,  less  entitled  to  a  re- 
ward. Yet  how  common  a  mistake  upon  this  subject  I  An 
occupation  is  accounted  honorable  according  to  the  profits,  and 
no  account  is  taken  of  any  profit  but  the  pecuniary.  What  he 
has  made  by  his  business  is  all  reckond  up ;  what  he  has  made 
himself  in  it  is  all  forgotten.  What  he  has  come  to  possess 
through  his  business  is  the  great  thing — what  he  has  come  to 
he  through  moral  discipline,  and  tried  integrity,  and  matured 
powers ;  or  meanness,  and  dishonesty,  and  cunning  craftiness, 
is  all  nothing.  You  count  what  he  has,  and  call  it  success  or 
failure,  and  forget  the  infinitely  more  important  matter,  what 


154  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

he  is.  Is  that  success,  which  secures  money  at  the  expense  of 
integrity,  and  forfeits  the  soul  for  the  things  that  perish  with 
the  using?  And  is  that /rt«7^/r^,  which  keeps  a  "conscience 
void  of  offense  toward  God  and  toward  men,"  and,  receivino;  a 
supply  by  the  way  and  doing  what  the  hand  findeth  to  do, 
looks  for  and  secures  the  recompense  of  reward — the  glory, 
honor,  and  immortality  ?  Do  what  your  hand  findeth  to  do. 
Its  outward  benefit  may  not  be  great,  its  inward  benefit  is  im- 
mense. 

The  main  thing  is  its  effect  upon  you,  in  establishing  right 
habits  and  characters,  and  increasing  the  power  and  facility  of 
doing.  Think  nothing  that  is  useful  beneath  you,  however  in- 
significant it  may  seem^  and  spend  no  time  in  wishing  for  bet- 
ter opportunities,  or  larger  work.  If  that  which  your  hand 
finds  to  do  is  least,  be  faithful  in  that,  and  this  is  a  preparation 
for  that  which  is  higher  and  more  important,  as  you  advance 
step  by  step.  Pursuing  this  course,  what  the  world  calls 
great,  comes  naturally  and  easily,  and  you  are  equal  to  any 
exigency  that  may  arise.  The  great  mistake  of  thousands — a 
mistake  which  defeats  all  the  ends  of  life — is  neglecting  what 
the  hands  find  to  do.  It  is  not  sufficiently  important,  or  suf- 
ficiently honorable.  They  have  souls  above  it,  or  the  recom- 
pense is  too  slight  a  stimulus  to  exertion.  Thus  the  time 
passes  by,  and  when  great  events  assail  them,  and  the  oppor- 
tunity for  great  actions,  or  great  gains,  presents  itself,  having 
neglected  all  the  less,  and  so  acquired  no  experience,  or  tact, 
or  facility  in  business,  they  are  in  no  condition  to  meet  the  oc- 
casion— to  perform  the  great  action,  or  secure  the  great  benefit. 
What  their  hands  find  to  do  is  neglected,  it  is  so  insignificant, 
and  then  when  occasion  presents  what  they  deem  important, 
they  are  in  no  condition  to  take  advantage  of  it.     The  muck  is 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  155 

seldom  intrusted  to  him  who  has  been  unfaithful  or  indolent  in 
the  little.  His  character  has  been  tried  by  the  little  and  found 
wanting,  as  he  that  is  unfaithful  in  little,  in  spite  of  all  his 
vain  imaginings,  is  also  unfaithful  in  much. 

III.  But  there  is  a  further  direction — not  merely  to  do,  and 
to  do  what  your  hand  jindeth  to  do — but  do  it  with  your 
MIGHT.  Nothing  is  done  effectually,  but  what  is  done  heartily  ; 
nor  is  any  thing  done  heartily,  which  is  deemed  insignificant. 
That  we  may  do  with  our  might  the  proper  work  of  life,  we 
must  understand  something  of  its  bearings,  and  its  influence 
beyond  immediate  results.  AYe  must  place  the  world  and  its 
business  where  they  ought  to  stand  in  connection  with  the 
world  to  come — that  the  future  life  may  reflect  its  glory  upon 
this — and  so  prepare  us  to  use  the  world  as  not  abusing  it — to 
be  diligent  in  business  and  fervent  in  spirit.  To  do  the  work 
of  our  calling  with  our  might,  we  must  respect  ourselves  and 
respect  our  calling.  Throw  aside  all  absurd  traditionary  notions 
(as  inconsistent  with  truth  as  with  our  reputation  or  profession) 
about  one  calling's  being  more  respectable  than  another  ;  take 
the  broad  ground  that  doing  with  your  might  what  your  hands 
find  to  do,  in  any  honest  calling,  is  worthy  of  respect.  Then 
none  but  fools  will  withhold  it,  and  happily  their  respect  is 
worth  nothing. 

IV.  The  season  for  this  earnest  diligence  is  the  present. 
Work.  *'  There  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor 
wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  thou  goest."  There  is  no  work 
to  be  done,  nor  desire  to  do  it,  nor  knowledge  to  facilitate  the 
doing,  or  wisdom  in  applying  means  to  ends,  in  the  grave 
whitlier  thou  goest.  The  season  for  all  this  is  past.  There  is 
an  appointed  time  for  man  upon  the  earth,  and  an  appointed 
work.     Both  have  their  appointed  times — the   time  and  the 


156 

work — this  side  the  grave  j  and  the  increasing  shortness  of  the 
time,  and  the  importance  of  the  work,  demand  increasing  dili- 
gence. Not,  "  let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die," 
but  let  us  work,  for  to-morrow  we  die.  Do  every  day  the  ap- 
propriate work  of  to-day,  waiting  for  no  to-morrow  to  finish  out 
its  neglected  business.  Do  what  your  hand  findeth  to  do,  and 
do  it  with  your  might,  and  then  as  the  Providence  of  God 
opens,  your  hand  will  find  something  better  and  more  blessed 
to  do  through  eternal  ages.  "  Faithful  over  a  few  things," 
you  are  prepared  to  be  "ruler  over  many  things."  Now 
while  everything  in  this  life  depends  upon  this,  and  he  that 
does  with  his  might  what  his  hand  finds  to  do,  finds  more  to 
do,  and  more  profitable  and  more  easily  done,  as  his  skill  and 
knowledge  increase,  is  it  true  of  this  world  merely  ?  Does  the 
soul,  departing  from  time,  leave  its  character,  its  habits,  its 
large  experience,  and  increased  knowledge  behind  ?  They  go 
with  it  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  soul  itself,  and  fit  it  to  con- 
summate that  which  has  been  commenced  here.  The  work 
commenced  on  earth,  and  carried  forward  amid  difficulties  and 
trials,  is  perfected  there. 

The  great  preparation  for  heaven  is  the  right  performance  of 
the  appropriate  duties  of  earth.  He  that  is  of  no  use  here,  is 
of  no  use  there — can  have  no  place  there.  The  outward  du- 
ties of  earth  may  in  a  measure  be  performed  from  no  spirit  of 
devotion  to  God,  or  principle  of  obedience,  and  so  be  entitled 
to  no  reward  from  him.  They  have  served  their  generation, 
but  not  according  to  the  will  of  God ;  useful  on  earth — not 
blessed  in  heaven.  Yet  the  spirit  and  conduct  which  made 
men  useful  on  earth,  are  worthy  of  earnest  study  and  consider- 
ation, as  a  guide  and  encouragement  to  us. 

The  most  useful  kind   of  knowledge   is  to  know  by  what 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  157 

means  others  have  succeeded — how  much  success  Is  due  to 
energy  and  perseverance,  and  how  much  to  what  men  call  acci- 
dent, and  the  Bible  calls  Providence. 

The  history  of  our  deceased  friend  is  both  interesting  and 
instructive,  as  every  man's  would  be,  if  it  could  be  given  as  it 
is.  His  success  was  the  result  of  a  literal  obedience  to  the 
wise  man's  direction.  He  did  with  his  might  what  his  hand 
found  to  do,  and  thus  was  prepared  as  Providence  opened  the 
way,  to  do  more  and  better.  He  was  led  in  a  way  that  he 
knew  not,  and  placed  in  circumstances  that  in  youth  he  had  no 
anticipation  of,  but  he  had  so  conducted  from  youth  upward 
that  there  was  a  mind  to  meet  the  circumstances.  His  plan 
was  to  remain  here,  and  remaining  here  he  would  have  dooe 
as  he  did  there,  what  his  hand  found  to  do,  though  his  hand 
would  have  found  very  different  things  to  do  from  what  he  did 
there,  and  the  outward  result  might  have  been  very  different. 
An  only  son,  his  desire  and  thought  was,  to  remain  at  home ; 
and  it  was  equally  the  desire  of  his  parents.  But  there  were 
no  Temperance  Societies  then,  pledging  men  to  each  other  to 
abandon  the  use  of  intoxicating  drink,  and  there  was  no  more 
power  then  than  now,  in  those  accustomed  to  the  use,  to  stop 
short  of  intoxication.  They  did  not  mean  to  be  drunk,  but 
continuing  the  use,  they  infallibly  become  so.  Commencing 
the  downward  slide,  there  was  no  power  to  stop  mid-way.  To 
remain  at  home  and  endure  the  mortification  and  disgrace  of  an 
intemperate  parent,  was  out  of  the  question.  He  would  do  any 
thing,  or  go  any  where  first.  Finding  no  remedy,  as  the  ease 
was  of  the  most  hopeless  kind,  he  took  his  departure,  anxious 
merely  to  be  as  far  off  as  possible.  Traveling  to  the  extent  of 
his  means,  he  found  himself  in  a  strange  place,  without  friends 
or  funds,  prepared  to  do  what  his  hand  found  to  do.  It  was 
14 


158 

not  particularly  inviting,  in  a  provision  store  on  the  bank  of 
the  Ohio,  on  almost  the  smallest  scale  imaginable — buying,  to 
sell,  day  by  day.  And  the  liquid  was  furnished  as  well  as  the 
solid.  This  may  seem  strange,  considering  the  cause  of  his 
departure  from  home  ;  but  he  had  not  learned  to  generalize. 
It  was  not  safe  for  his  father  to  drink,  and  to  drink  himself, 
with  such  an  example,  was  an  outrage  not  to  be  thought  of; 
but  he  went  no  further.  Yet  when  the  temperance  movement 
commenced,  and  his  attention  was  turned  to  it,  he  gave  up  the 
traffic  at  once,  at  what  seemed  to  be  a  great  pecuniary  sacrifice 
— wondering,  like  thousands  of  others,  that  he  had  never  seen 
it  in  that  light  before. 

With  the  increase  of  means  he  found  a  more  eligible  situa- 
tion, and  more  extensive  business,  still  doing  what  his  hand 
found  to  do.  His  progress  was  onward  and  upward,  with 
scarcely  an  interruption.  There  was  no  display  of  wealth,  no 
ostentation,  in  dress,  furniture,  or  appearance.  He  was  never 
above  his  business,  still  doing  what  his  hand  found  to  do. 
His  house  was  always  open  to  all  his  acquaintances — especially 
those  from  Caledonia  County.  The  unfortunate  were  as  hearti- 
ly greeted  as  any,  unless  they  were  vicious.  He  furnished  a 
home  for  his  mother,  who  went  out  to  Cincinnati  with  me  in 
1834,  and  finally  for  his  father, — who,  whatever  he  might  be 
here,  has  been  there  a  pattern  of  sobriety.  Our  friend  was  a 
thorough  business  man — straight-forward,  upright,  manly  in  all 
his  dealings — shrewd,  but  not  that  kind  of  shrewdness  which 
consists  in  cunning  and  intrigue, — thinking  no  honest  business 
disgraceful,  with  no  peculiar  talent  unless  it  be  the  combina- 
tion of  all  in  common  sense.  He  had  no  airs  on  account  of 
bis  success,  and  dealt  in  no  denunciation  against  the  unfortu- 
nate.    On  the  contrary,  he  was  always  ready  to  help. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ERASTUS  POOR.  159 

He  was  sensitive,  perhaps  over-sensitive  upon  a  single  point, 
— that  which  caused  his  departure  from  home  ;  and  for  years 
was  ahnost  afraid  to  hear  from  home,  lest  he  should  hear  of 
some  crime  committed  in  the  frenzy  of  intoxication.  I  seldom 
saw  him  without  hearing  two  inf|uiries :  "  What  is  the  news 
from  Peacham  ?  "  and  then,  with  hesitation,  as  if  almost  afraid 
to  ask,  "  Do  you  hear  anything  of  father?"  And  yet  there 
is  more  than  one  man  that  will  subject  his  children  to  such  a 
trial — obstruct  their  prosperity,  and  place  himself  in  such  a 
position  that  they  cannot  think  of  him  without  thinking  of  the 
disgrace,  and  anguish,  and  mortification  he  has  caused  them. 
I  know  of  nothing  that  reads  to  fathers  a  louder  temperance 
lecture  than  this. 

That  in  the  highest  and  noblest  sense  he  did  what  his  hand 
found  to  do,  I  have  no  right  to  affirm  or  deny.  We  leave  that 
to  Him  that  judges  righteously. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  funeral  sermon  at  Cin- 
cinnati : — 

"  Erastus  Poor  for  thirty  years  has  been  known  in  this  com- 
munity as  a  man  remarkable  for  his  fair  dealing,  his  upright- 
ness, and  honor,  and  integrity  in  his  business  transactions,  and 
his  unflinching  fidelity  as  a  friend.  His  efficient  services  in 
the  schools  of  our  city,  are  worthy  of  the  highest  praise.  He 
has  served  long  and  faithfully  in  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and 
long  will  be  remembered  by  those  children  who  have  been 
cheered  on  by  him.  It  was  his  ambition  to  make  the  schools 
of  Cincinnati  equal  to  those  of  Boston.  The  New  England 
part  of  the  community  must  do  this.  To  do  this,  they  must 
overcome  a  mass  of  dead  indifference  and  living  opposition, 
of  which  we  have  scarcely  a  conception.  They  have  suc- 
ceeded." 


160  KEY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

Note.  Erastus  Poor,  son  of  Noah  Poor  (b.  Pembroke,  N.  H., 
29  August,  1771  ;  d.  Cincinnati,  0.,  28  May,  1851)  and  Clem- 
ency Clark,  his  wife,  (b.  Lebanon,  Conn.,  17  July,  1771 ;  d. 
Cincinnati,  0.,  16  January,  1836,)  was  born  in  Peacham,  Vt., 
25  Sept.,  1796.  He  went  to  the  West  in  the  Spring  of  1817, 
and  three  or  four  years  later  fixed  his  residence  permanently  in 
Cincinnati,  O.  He  engaged  in  mercantile  pursuits,  and  at  the 
time  of  his  death  stood  at  the  head  of  the  oldest  mercantile  house 
in  Cincinnati.  He  was  for  several  years  one  of  the  directors  of 
the  Franklin  Bank,  Cincinnati,  and  for  ten  years  previous  to  his 
death  a  trustee  and  visitor  of  common  schools.  He  died  in  New 
Orleans,  of  cholera.  23  January,  1850.  T.  S.  P. 


SERMON  XI. 

AT  THE  FUXERAL  OF  DE.  G.  W.  COBB. 

The  beloved  physician.    Colossiaxs  iv.  14. 

Every  man  is  bound  to  serve  his  generation  according  to 
the  will  of  God,  and  so  far  as  in  him  lies  to  increa.se  the  com- 
mon stock  of  comfort  and  enjoyment.  There  is  a  place  for  all, 
and  the  service  of  all  is  required.  But  all  have  not  the  same 
place,  nor  is  the  same  service  required  of  all.  "  Every  man  in 
his  own  order,"  and  according  to  the  means  which  Providence 
has  put  in  his  hands.  He  is  to  secure  to  himself  the  means  of 
comfort,  and  promote  his  own  enjoyment  by  serving  his  gen- 
eration. And  serve  them  in  some  way  he  must,  even  though 
he  does  not  mean  so,  or  his  heart  think  so,  as  he  cannot  entire- 
ly separate  his  interests  from  theirs  if  he  would.  Providence 
has  so  arranged  it  that  no  man  can  effectually  benefit  himself 
without  also  benefitting  others.  The  drone  or  the  loafer,  the 
mere  hanger-on  upon  society,  is  as  real  a  burden  to  himself  as 
he  is  to  other  people ;  often  more  so,  as  they  can  sometimes 
escape  him  or  shake  him  off.  But  how  shall  he  ever  escape  or 
shake  off  himself?  That  a  man  may  serve  his  generation,  and 
secure  to  them  and  to  himself  the  ends  of  that  service,  an  oc- 
cupation of  some  kind  is  necessary  ;  and  choosing  a  profession, 
a  trade,  or  occupation,  is  just  choosing  the  way  in  which  we 
will  serve  our  generation.  And  while  we  serve  them,  are  we 
served  of  them.  For  it  is  not  necessarily  a  one-sided  matter. 
It  is  service  bestowed  and  received,  so  that  there  is,  or  at  any 
14* 


162  REV,  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

rate  may  be,  an  equality.  Antl  sucli  is  the  fact,  as  far  as  society 
approaches  any  just  model, — all  serving,  all  served.  The 
shortness  of  life  does  not  admit  that  any  one  man  should  know 
all  that  even  his  own  necessities  require  should  be  known,  or 
do  and  do  well  all  that  even  his  own  necessities  require  should 
be  done.  If  society  advances  beyond  its  rudest  state,  there  is 
of  necessity  a  variety  of  occupations  and  a  division  of  labor — 
and  the  division  is  more  minute  as  society  advances'.  This  no 
doubt  may  be  carried  to  a  ludicrous  and  ruinous  extreme.  But 
the  fact  that  it  is  capable  of  this  abuse  is  no  valid  objection  to  the 
thing  itself.  No  one  man  can  be  a  lawyer,  and  physician,  and 
preacher,  and  farmer,  and  mechanic,  in  such  a  way  as  best  to 
answer  his  own  ends  and  serve  his  generation.  It  is  far  better 
for  him,  as  well  as  for  them,  that  he  should  make  some  one  of 
them  his  prominent  business,  while  his  knowledge  of  the  rest 
should  be  as  extensive  and  particular  as  may  be.  Among 
these  various  ways  of  serving  his  generation  he  has  a  choice, 
and  makes  his  selection.  And  he  owes  it  to  himself  and  to. 
them  to  make  it  his  prominent  business.  By  doing  so,  he 
serves  them  and  himself  in  the  most  effectual  manner.  Some 
of  these  occupations  have  existed  under  every  form  of  society, 
and  some  have  arisen  from  the  necessities  of  civilization.  In 
barbarous  countries  the  mechanics  are  few,  and  of  the  rudest 
sort.  In  despotic  governments  there  are  no  lawyers,  simply 
because  there  are  no  laws,  or  courts,  or  trials, — nothing  but 
vengeance,  or  summary  justice,  which  may  or  may  not  be  jus- 
tice, as  it  happens.  But  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages  there 
have  been  physicians.  The  necessity  for  them  lies  in  the  very 
nature  of  man — diseased  and  dying,  with  remedies  scattered 
abroad  to  alleviate  pain  and  cure  disease,  and  for  a  season  ward 
off  death.     And  by  the  application  of  these  remedies,  an  im- 


AT  TUE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  G.  W.  COBB.        163 

raense  amount  of  misery  has  been  removed  or  prevented. 
These  remedies  were  to  be  discovered,  and  tested,  and  applied. 
The  whole  business  originally  was  a  matter  of  experiment. 
The  keenest  observer  was  the  best  physician,  since  he  improved 
his  knowledge  and  skill  by  every  trial,  and  learned  from  fail- 
ure as  well  as  from  success. 

One  of  Paul's  companions  in  travel  was  a  physician, — the 
beloved  physician,  who  sent  in  this  letter  his  characteristic  sal- 
utation to  the  brethren.  "  Luke,  the  beloved  physician,  and 
Demas,  greet  you.''  I  propose  on  this  occasion  to  consider 
the  characteristics  of  a  physician  who  is  entitled  to  be  beloved, 
and  who,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  certainly  will  secure  aflfection. 
This  subject  is  suggested  by  the  melancholy  event  which  has 
broup;ht  us  top-ether. 

I.  The  beloved  physician  understands  nis  rROFESSiON. 
He  does  not  assume  an  office  or  enter  upon  a  business  ignorant 
of  its  duties  and  responsibilities,  or  expect  to  acquire  knowl- 
edge by  instinct.  A  man  may  be  born  a  poet,  but  no  man  is 
born  a  physician.  He  may  have  an  aptitude  for  that  calling 
rather  than  others,  but  a  knowledge  to  perform  its  duties  is  of 
no  easy  attaiment.  It  requires  close  and  accurate  observation, 
and  much  and  diligent  study  of  the  observations  of  others. 
The  human  system — a  system  "  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made," — he  must  know  in  all  its  parts, — their  dependence 
upon  and  connection  with  each  other,  and  how  these  parts  com- 
bine to  make  a  whole.  He  must  know  what  it  is  in  its  healthy 
state,  and  the  various  stages  and  kinds  of  disease.  And  in 
this  age  he  has  no  right  to  acquire  this  knowledge  by  practice 
and  personal  experience.  With  less  trouble  to  himself  and  no 
pain  to  others,  it  may  be  gained  from  the  recorded  observations 
and  practice  of  those  who  have  gone  before  him.     His  first 


164  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

business  is  steady  study, — nor  should  study  ever  be  laid  aside. 
But  with  a  knowledge  of  the  human  system  and  its  diseases, 
must  be  combined  a  knowledge  of  the  various  remedies.  These 
remedies  were  known  originally  by  experiment.  They  are  not 
matters  of  experiment  now,  but  for  the  most  part  matters  of 
fact — and  to  be  learned  for  the  most  part  like  other  matters  of 
fact,  from  the  testimony  and  experiments  of  others.  A  physi- 
cian without  study  is  unfit  for  his  business — little  else  than  a 
wholesale  murderer.  He  may  cure  by  accident,  but  never  by 
design.  Nor  should  his  study  be  confined  to  the  physical  part 
of  man.  There  is  an  influence  of  mind  upon  body  in  produc- 
ing or  curing  disease.  And  to  perform  his  work  he  must  un- 
derstand that  influence  in  its  nature  and  extent,  as  the  same 
medicine  does  not  produce  the  same  eflfect  in  different  states 
of  mind.  But  with  all  his  knowledge  he  is  sometimes  at  his 
wit's  end.  Diseases,  new,  or  assuming  a  new  form  under  an 
old  name,  sometimes  present  themselves.  He  has  seen  nothing 
exactly  like  them  in  his  practice — he  finds  no  account  of  them 
in  his  books.  And  with  observations  from  day  to  day,  and  re- 
marking the  various  symptoms,  he  is  still  in  doubt  about  the 
nature  of  the  disease.  What  is  really  the  matter  he  does  not 
know,  and  of  course  does  not  know  what  remedy  to  apply,  or 
whether  any.  In  cases  of  this  kind  he  is  entitled  to  all  the 
facilities  which  the  public  or  the  relatives  can  furnish.  The 
patient  dies.  And  surely  measures  should  be  taken  that  an- 
other may  not  die  in  the  same  way,  through  a  similar  unac- 
quaintance  with  tlae  disease.  The  dead  cannot  be  injured,  nor 
should  the  feelings  of  the  relatives  or  the  public  revolt  at  the 
examination  of  the  dead.  It  is  not  indeed  desirable  to  any,  on 
its  own  account, — to  the  physician  any  more  than  to  others — nor 
should  it  be  indulged  in  merely  to  gratify  an   idle  curiosity. 


AT  TUE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  G.  W.  COBB.        165 

But  wlien  knowledge  may  be  gained  that  will  enable  the  phy- 
sician to  meet  another  case,  and  alleviate  pain  or  save  from 
death,  there  can  be  no  valid  objection.  Humanity  urges  the 
examination,  and  very  properly,  for  the  dread  of  desecrating 
the  deserted  tabernacle  should  give  way  to  a  desire  of  preserv- 
ing the  inhabited.  I  mention  this,  because  the  physician  is 
sometimes  denied  the  means  of  acquiring  that  knowledge  which 
the  necessities  of  the  living  require  of  him.  A  physician,  to 
be  entitled  to  respect  and  affection,  must  understand  his  busi- 
ness, and  while  his  knowledge  will  be  matured  and  enlarged 
by  observation  and  practice,  he  has  no  right  to  tamper  with  the 
health,  and  comfort,  and  lives  of  his  fellow-men  by  ignorant 
practice,  or  to  experiment  in  cases  that  long  experience  has 
settled.  He  has  no  right  to  go  forth  in  his  ignorance,  with  the 
hope  of  learning  to  practice  by  practicing. 

II.  The  beloved  physician  has  a  sound  judgment  in  his 
PROFESSION.  No  business  or  profession  can  dispense  with  this. 
But  it  is  more  indispensible  in  some  than  in  others.  There  is 
no  stereotype  method  of  curing  diseases,  or  healing  patients, 
and  books  cannot  give  directions  to  meet  every  case.  There  is 
no  royal  road  to  successful  practice.  Disease  varies  with  sea- 
son and  climate — with  the  constitution,  temperament,  habits, 
and  age  of  the  patient.  It  may  pass  under  the  same  name, 
and  have  the  same  general  features.  But  it  so  varies  as  to  re- 
quire a  treatment  in  some  respects  peculiar,  in  almost  every 
severe  case,  and  sound  judgment  alone  can  meet  these  pecu- 
liarities. And  there  is  a  constant  appeal  to  his  judgment  when 
the  decision  must  necessarily  be  rapid  and  fixed.  There  is 
often  no  time  for  hesitation  and  delay.  What  he  does,  must 
be  done  quickly ;  and  a  mistake,  or  error  in  judgment,  is 
fatal.     And   even  when  there  is  time,   and  the  necessity  is 


166  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

not  pressing,  almost  every  thing  depends  upon  his  judgment 
and  his  power  to  distinguish  between  things  that  resemble 
each  other,  or  to  see  resemblance  between  things  that  differ. 
No  doubt  this  power  increases  by  exercise,  and  he  learns 
to  decide  more  rapidly  and  more  justly  as  his  practice  ex- 
tends. But  there  must  be  a  sound  and  balanced  mind  at 
the  outset,  as  no  practice  can  increase  what  has  no  begin- 
ning, or  build  without  a  foundation.  And  this  sound  judg- 
ment is  a  different  matter  from  what  is  called  talent,  and 
knowledge,  as  men  are  deficient  in  this,  often,  who  are  by  no 
means  destitute  of  talent  or  information.  It  is  the  power  of 
applying  talent  and  knowledge  to  use,  and  making  them  avail- 
able to  the  purpose  in  hand.  What  benefit  is  talent  or  knowl- 
edge without  sound  judgment  to  bring  them  to  meet  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  case  ?  The  physician  must  have  the  power  to 
discern  readily,  and  decide  rapidly  and  surely,  that  he  may 
act  promptly  and  efficiently.  Without  this  he  can  never  be 
entitled  to  respect  and  confidence  in  his  calling,  let  his  talents 
and  knowledge  be  what  they  may. 

III.  The  beloved  physician  respects  himself  axd  his 
CALLING.  No  man  can  succeed,  or  ought  to  succeed  in  a  busi- 
ness that  he  is  ashamed  of.  No  man  can  succeed,  either,  who 
does  not  respect  himself — whose  diffidence  and  modesty  are 
such  as  to  be  continually  asking  pardon  of  the  world  for  being 
in  it.  He  makes  indeed  no  great  pretension,  but  there  is  a 
sober,  settled  estimate  of  himself,  in  comparison  with  his  fellow 
men.  He  is  not  willing  to  sink  beneath  them,  or  in  his  own 
bosom  admit  that  he  is  beneath  them — and  he  "  gives  place  by 
subjection,  no,  not  for  an  hour."  "  I  myself  also  am  a  man." 
He  makes  no  claim,  by  a  domineering  spirit,  to  be  more — he  is 
not  willing  by  shrinking  and  subjection  to  admit  himself  to  be 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  G.  W,  COBR.        167 

less.  His  knowledge  in  his  own  vocation  ought  to  be  more 
than  that  of  the  mass,  and  is  no  ground  for  peculiar  pride  and 
self-satisfaction ;  his  knowledge  may  be  less  than  that  of  the 
fathers  in  the  profession,  and  that  is  no  cause  for  peculiar  hu- 
mility and  self-distrust.  It  is  no  encroachment  upon  his  self- 
respect  to  ask  and  receive  counsel  of  them.  "  I  am  young  and 
ye  are  old."  *'  Days  should  speak,  and  multitude  of  years 
should  teach  wisdom."  As  he  respects  himself,  so  he  respects 
his  calling.  He  is  above  the  low  arts  of  quackery,  and  the 
appeals  to  prejudice  and  passion,  by  which  feeble,  and  vulgar, 
and  ignorant  minds  seek  notoriety.  He  leaves  them  to  their 
own  element.  An  honorable  profession  is  really  disgraced  by 
dishonorable  acts.  The  popularity  that  springs  up  in  a  night 
and  perishes  in  a  night,  suits  not  his  principles  nor  his  pur- 
poses. He  has  been  behind  the  scenes,  and  knows  the  real 
value  of  nostrums,  and  panaceas,  and  elixirs,  and  balsams, 
and  heal-alls,  and  cure-alls — one  medicine  for  every  disease — 
and  gives  them  no  countenance,  though  pocket  interest  may 
prompt. 

His  patients  may  love  to  be  deceived,  but  he  cannot  dis- 
grace himself  or  his  calling  by  being  accessory  to  the  deception. 
The  temporary  popularity  of  quacks  and  empirics  is  no  doubt 
often  vexatious,  and,  when  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  his  spirit 
is  stirred  within  him  in  mingled  compassion  and  indignation, 
as  he  anticipates  the  fatal  result.  But  as  he  has  no  power  to 
prevent  it,  or  force  the  right  remedy  upon  the  afflicted,  he  is 
content  to  wait  till  experience  shall  teach  wisdom,  and  sense 
and  reason  shall  revive.  And  they  ivill  revive.  All  delusion 
and  deception  is  in  its  very  nature  temporary.  It  has  its  run 
and  its  day.  But  it  springs  from  nothing,  and  to  nothing  must 
speedily  return.     He  that  understands  his  business,  and,  re- 


168  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

specting  himself  and  it,  enters  upon  it  with  a  sound  judgment, 
is  not  destined  to  perpetual  obscurity.  He  finds  his  level,  and 
by  those  whose  judgment  is  worth  anything,  is  estimated  at  his 
real  worth.  For  though  men  through  mistake  and  false  views 
are  often  deceived,  and  even  love  the  deception,  yet  they  have 
no  interest  in  being  deceived.  The  trial  may  be  severe,  but 
the  very  trial  shows  his  worth.  Let  him  abide  his  time,  and 
he  shall  find  his  proper  level.  The  beloved  physician  respects 
himself  and  his  calling. 

IV.  The  beloved  physician  respects  the  feelings  of  his 
patients,  and  has  feeling  for  them.  His  acquaintance  with 
suffering  does  not  destroy  his  compassion  for  suffering,  or  his 
sympathy  with  the  sufferer.  While  he  does  and  gives  what  is 
necessary,  it  is  done  and  given  in  manifest  kindness.  He  has 
a  heart  as  well  as  knowledge  and  judgment,  and  all  his  inter- 
course with  his  patients  shows  it.  There  is,  indeed,  a  sickly 
sensibility  that  would  unfit  him  for  his  peculiar  duties — a  dread 
of  giving  pain  that  would  withhold  the  appropriate  remedy,  or 
postpone  or  shrink  from  the  necessary  though  painful  operation. 
There  is  a  sensibility  that  weeps  when  it  should  act — that  un- 
nerves when  the  firmest  nerves  are  indispensible.  He  discards 
all  this,  as  in  its  nature  inconsistent  with  his  calling.  But 
this  is  a  very  different  thing  from  utter  insensibility  and  heart- 
lessness.  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  repulsive  than  this 
litter  heartlessness.  It  is  said  the  tendency  of  the  profession 
is  to  this.  Familiarity  with  suffering  begets  a  disregard  for 
suffering.  The  physician  needs  no  heart,  and  finally  has  none. 
That  this  is  true  in  some  instances,  may  be  admitted, — that  he 
has  no  heart,  and  deals  with  his  patients  as  if  they  had  no 
more  feeling  than  himself.  But  it  is  oftener  impured  without 
just  cause.     Has  a  man  no  heart  because  he  does  ijut  give  way 


AT  THE  FUNEEAL  OF  DR.  G.  W.  COBB.        169 

to  his  feelings  on  all  occasions  ?  or  because  bis  feelings  are 
schooled  into  subjection  to  reason,  and  the  necessity  of  the 
case  ?  Has  a  man  no  heart  because  he  does  not  suffer  mere 
feeling  to  interfere  with  imperative  duty  ?  Such  feeling  is  su- 
perficial and  temporary — of  little  use  any  where,  as  it  Tents 
itself  in  tears  and  expressions  of  j^ity,  and  is  gone.  It  is  like 
the  "Be  ye  warmed,  and  be  ye  filled,"  that  still  gives  not 
that  which  is  needful.  But  a  physician,  to  be  loved,  must  have 
a  heart,  and  must  show  a  heart.  Without  this  his  patients  take 
him  as  they  take  his  medicine — because  they  can't  help  it — 
while  they  abhor  both,  as  both  are  equally  nauseous.  And 
even  while  they  know  to  some  extent  their  obhgations  to  his 
skill  and  judgment,  their  abhorrence  for  him  is  not  at  all  di- 
minished. A  heartless  being  cannot  be  beloved.  There  is 
nothino;  for  affection  to  take  hold  of,  or  clins;  to.  He  is  on 
some  accounts  necessary,  perhaps,  even  though  he  have  no 
heart ;  but  at  the  very  best  a  necessary  evil.  But  there  is  no 
necessity  for  heartlessness  in  his  profession  or  round  of  duties. 
A  kind  and  affectionate  manner  and  spirit,  and  even  expres- 
sions of  sympathy  and  pity,  are  not  lost.  They  are  as  really 
useful,  and  as  really  subserve  his  purpose,  as  skill  and  nerve. 
For  without  them  he  cannot  be  beloved,  and  is  far  less  likely 
to  succeed.  So  conscious  are  some  of  this,  that  they  assume 
the  virtue  though  they  have  it  not.  But  with  the  mass,  there 
no  need  of  assuming.  They  have  it — a  heart  to  pity,  as  well 
as  power  and  skill  to  apply  the  appropriate  remedy.  This  is 
the  great  recommendation  of  the  model  physician' — the  physi- 
cian of  souls — that  with  power  to  relieve,  ho  has  also  sympathy 
and  heart  to  enter  into  the  feelings  of  his  patients,  and  there  is 
kindness  in  his  very  seventy.     "  For  in  that  he  himself  hath 

suffered,  being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are 
15 


170 

tempted."  He  is  "  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmi- 
ties." There  is  heart,  as  well  as  power  and  skill,  with  him. 
And  while  our  necessities  urge  us  to  him,  we  are  attracted  by 
the  very  heartiness  with  which  he  enters  into  the  feeling  of  our 
infirmities. 

V.  The  beloved  physician  is  governed  by  Christian  prin- 
ciples. He  has  a  work  to  perform,  and  an  account  to  render. 
His  time,  and  knowledge,  and  skill,  and  affections,  belong  to 
God,  and  he  recognizes  God's  claims.  He  is  placed  here  to 
serve  his  generation  according  to  the  will  of  God.  He  does 
God  service  by  labors  to  benefit  his  fellow  men.  The  more 
knowledge,  and  skill,  and  judgment,  and  heart,  he  can  bring 
into  the  service,  the  more  efficiently  he  answers  the  great  end 
of  his  existence,  and  God  is  glorified  in  him.  He  has  no  inter- 
ests separate  from  the  interests  of  his  fellow  men,  and  is,  and 
expects  to  be,  benefited  by  benefiting  them.  His  religion  is 
not  a  distinct  and  separate  thing — a  matter  merely  between  his 
own  soul  and  God — it  enters  into  all  the  business  of  life.  It 
writes  the  law  of  love — love  to  God,  and  love  to  man — upon 
his  heart  and  mind.  It  purifies  his  feelings,  directs  his  course, 
animates  his  exertions  ;  and  what  he  does  he  does  heartily,  as 
to  God,  and  not  merely  to  man.  His  labor  is,  in  his  calling 
to  exemplify  the  Christian  spirit  by  Christian  action,  and  any 
of  God's  creatures  to  whom  he  can  be  of  service  is  his  neigh- 
bor. There  is  (and  I  rejoice  to  say  it)  a  professional  readi- 
ness to  administer  to  the  poor  as  well  as  to  the  rich,  and  to 
continue  it,  with  no  prospect  of  pecuniary  reward ;  and  the 
man  who  from  mere  pecuniary  considerations  should  refuse  to 
the  poor  his  service,  would  lose  caste  with  his  profession. 
There  is  also  a  joy  in  success,  separate  from  all  thought  of  per- 
sonal reputation,  or  pecuniary  profit.     The  sick  restored  by 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  G.  W.  COBB.        171 

his  means  is  a  matter  of  joy  in  itself.  It  is  an  amiable  feeling, 
and  one  that  we  rejoice  to  recognize,  perhaps  when  we  should 
not  expect  to  find  it.  But  there  is  a  higher  principle — a  no- 
bler feeling  of  joy  still — a  joy  in  God  in  dispensing  blessing 
for  his  sake,  and  looking  for  his  approbation,  and  in  a  measure 
imitating  the  Great  Physician.  The  beloved  physician  is  a 
Christian,  not  in  word  or  in  tongue  merely,  but  in  deed  and  in 
truth.  He  identifies  himself  with  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  is 
at  home  with  the  citizens  of  that  kingdom.  There  is  something 
beyond  this  world  to  care  for  and  to  provide  for, — a  life  be- 
yond death, — a  happiness  perfect,  complete,  and  eternal,  of 
which  he  partakes  as  he  serves  his  generation  according  to  the 
will  of  God. 

Finally,  the  beloved  physician  is  not  a  mere  physician. 
His  mind  is  not  so  engrossed  by  what  is  professional  as  to  neg- 
lect or  bo  indifferent  to  other  interests.  He  is  a  man,  and  a 
neighbor,  and  a  citizen, — belongs  to  a  school  district  and  re- 
ligious society — perhaps  a  husband  and  a  father.  Human  na- 
ture is  not  one  mass  of  disease  for  him  to  cure,  nor  is  the  world 
all  medicine  to  cure  it  with.  One  business  is  prominent,  but 
not  alone.  There  is  nothing  solitary  in  his  affections  or  his 
interests.  All  the  institutions  he  sustains  claim  an  interest 
in  his  attention  and  thought.  As  an  educated  man,  much  is 
due  to  society  from  him  aside  from  his  profession.  Every  effort 
at  improvement  of  any  kind  looks  to  him  for  countenance 
and  encouragement.  Every  thing  that  can  promote  real  peace 
and  enjoyment,  or  in  any  way  diminish  sin,  and  ignorance,  and 
misery,  finds  in  him  an  advocate. 

Is  it  strange  that  he  should  be  beloved  ?  or  that  his  depart- 
ure should  bring  tears  to  many  eyes,  and  leave  a  vacancy  in 
many  hearts  ?     Such  a  man  no  society  can  afford  to  lose.     The 


172  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

loss  is  a  public  calamity.  And  yet  death  strikes  down  sucb, 
as  well  as  others,  and  often  when  to  our  imperfect  view  they 
seem  most  needed, — wlien  their  sun  has  not  yet  reached  its 
meridian,  and  years  of  business,  and  success,  and  usefulness 
were  before  them.  They  have  hardly  obtained  the  requisite 
qualifications,  and  established  themselves  in  useful  business, 
before  they  are  transferred  to  another  sphere.  What  was  in 
their  heart  to  do,  time  has  not  been  allowed  them  to  accom- 
plish.    But  it  was  well  that  it  was  in  their  hearts. 

The  beloved  physician  understands  his  profession — has  dis- 
cretion and  judgment  to  apply  his  hioivledge  to  practice — 
respects  himself  and  his  calling — respects  the  feelings  of  his 
jyatients,  and  has  feeling  for  them — has  a  heart  as  well  as 
intellect  and  skill— feels  the  existence  and  control  of  Chris- 
tian principles — and  luithal  is  more  than  a  mere  physician. 
Such  was  the  beloved  physician  whose  death  we  mourn — a 
death  early,  and,  to  us,  untimely.  All  who  employed  him 
felt  confidence  in  his  skill  and  judgment,  and  were  attracted 
to  him  by  the  very  heartiness  with  which  he  entered  into  their 
case.  He  could  do  what  became  him,  and  he  would  do  what 
lie  could.  He  grudged  no  personal  sacrifice,  to  accomplish 
the  object  of  his  calling.  His  anxiety  in  difficult  and  doubtful 
cases  was,  without  question,  often  excessive — such  as  wore  him 
out  witiiout  any  corresponding  benefit  to  them — and  an  unfa- 
vorable result  produced  disappointment  and  depression.  A 
more  complete  control  over  his  own  feelings — a  more  nice  and 
exact  measurement  of  his  exertions  by  his  ability  to  bear — 
might  have  spared  him  longer.  Had  he  dismissed  the  care  of 
his  patients  when  he  left  their  presence,  it  had  been  far  easier 
for  him — perhaps  equally  well  for  them.  But  he  was  not  the 
man  to  do  this.     There  is,  no  doubt,  a  happy  medium  (which, 


AT   THE   FUNERAL    OF    DR.    G.    W.    COBB.  173 

after  all,  is  difficult  to  find)  between  an  excessive  anxiety 
about  results,  and  a  cool,  deliberate  want  of  feeling,  which 
takes  quietly,  if  not  carelessly,  the  death  of  patients. 

Between  these  extremes  in  a  physician,  no  man  would 
hesitate  for  a  moment  which  to  choose.  Give  us  the  man  who 
has  a  heart,  even  though  it  beat  sometimes  too  violently.  It 
was  this  very  whole-heartedness,  which  as  much  as  any  thing 
else — more  than  any  thing  else — commended  him  to  every  class 
of  community.  As  a  man,  we  expected  his  help  in  every  use- 
ful enterprise — every  thing  to  improve  the  state  of  society,  the 
manners,  or  morals,  or  minds.  He  was  a  firm  supporter  and 
unflinching  advocate  of  temperance,  a  hater  of  oppression  in  all 
its  forms,  and  especially  of  that  legal  system  of  abominations 
that  dooms  a  whole  race  to  hopeless  servitude.  Nor  was  he  so 
taken  up  with  this,  as  to  overlook  cases  of  petty  tyranny,  or 
what  he  deemed  such,  nearer  home.  He  felt  strongly,  and 
spoke  as  he  felt,  in  strong  language.  Any  thing  that  looked 
like  an  attempt  to  oppress  or  crush — any  special  display  of 
calculating  heartlessuess  met  his  decided  and  indignant  repro- 
bation,— a  high-minded,  honorable  man.  He  had  a  heart,  and 
no  sympathy  with  those  who  had  none. 

His  relation  as  a  subordinate  agent  to  the  Supreme  Being, 
occupied  his  thoughts  and  attention  for  many  years.  The  sub- 
ject of  religion  was  to  him  one  of  deep  interest,  as  something 
befitting  man,  and  necessary  to  make  the  man  complete,  and 
many  of  its  requirements  were  regarded  externally  long  before 
he  had  experience  of  its  power.  Before  he  thought  himself  a 
Christian,  or  made  profession  of  religion,  God  was  acknowl- 
edged in  his  family.  It  was  a  service  due  from  him,  in  the 
relation  he  sustained  to  the  God  of  the  families  of  the  whole 
earth, — right,  in  itself.  The  Bible  was  studied,  not  to  support 
15* 


174  REV.    D.    JIERRILl's    SER3I0NS. 

preconceived  ideas,  but  to  know  the  will  of  God.  "  Lord, 
what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?"  A  system  that  dispenses 
with  religion,  and  yet  ensures  safety,  did  not  meet  the  revela- 
tion of  God,  or  the  necessities  of  man.  Whether  all  were  safe 
or  not,  religion  was  a  reality,  and  man  must  feel  its  power,  and 
the  sooner  the  better.  He  was  not  disposed  to  argue  upon  the 
subject,  as  he  was  conscious  of  the  futility  of  mere  argument 
in  such  a  case,  nor  condemn  as  utterly  wrong  those  who  advo- 
cated what  he  deemed  a  wrong  system.  But  the  system  did 
not  meet  his  necessities — he  felt  sure  that  it  would  not  meet 
the  necessities  of  man  any  where.  For  it  was  not  so  much 
a  religion  as  a  substitute  for  relip;ion — a  substitute  that  in  the 
most  important  points  failed  to  answer  the  purpose.  Whether 
it  might  consist  with  piety  or  not,  it  was  not  piety.  It  quieted 
the  fears  without  calmino;  the  conscience,  or  brinsiinQ;  the  heart 
into  union  with  the  Savior,  or  harmony  with  God. 

In  May,  1843,  he  became  a  member  of  this  church,  and  has 
always  shown  a  deep  interest  in  its  increase  and  prosperity. 
His  feelings  have  been  variable,  and  especially  since  his  sick- 
ness commenced  in  earnest.  The  disease  itself  gave  great 
scope  for  hope  and  despondency,  for  excitement  and  depres- 
sion, and  in  connection  with  the  medicine  has  often  painted  be- 
fore his  mind  an  unreal  state  of  things.  For  near  a  year  past 
he  has  been  manifestly — (not  what  he  was) — subject  to  strong 
nervous  excitement,  and  a  kind  of  derangement,  and  conse- 
quent miscalculation  of  his  strength,  and  of  the  power  which 
disease  had  over  him,  and  sometimes  a  miscalculation  of  the  in- 
tentions and  feelings  of  others  towards  him.  And  he  deemed 
at  times  fully  aware  of  this. 

It  was  natural,  and  within  bounds,  right,  that  he  should  de- 
sire to  recover,  and  accomplish  a  great  work  on  earth.     The 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  G.  W,  COBB.        175 

most  of  his  life  so  far,  even  as  to  this  world,  had  been  but  a 
preparation,  and  with  continued  life  and  health,  he  might  have 
served  his  generation  and  secured  to  them  and  himself  the  re- 
sults of  that  service  more  and  more. 

When  the  voice  of  Providence  seemed  to  say  to  him,  as  to 
Hezekiah,  "  Set  thy  house  in  order,  for  thou  shalt  die  and  not 
live,"  he  received  it  like  Hezekiah — with  prayers  and  tears — 
and  yet  commenced  the  work  of  sotting  in  order.  He  said  to 
me, — "  I  have  prayed,  '  If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me.  Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt.' "  His 
confidence  in  the  Savior  was  firm — "  I  depend  upon  Christ. 
He  is  all  in  all."  His  excitement  was  always  quieted  by 
prayer  and  religious  conversation.  He  rests  from  his  labors, 
and  we  trust,  rests  in  peace. 

"  This  earth  is  afiiicted  no  moie 
With  sickness,  or  shaken  with  pain  ; 

The  war  with  the  members  is  o'er, 
And  never  shall  vex  him  again." 

It  remains  for  us  to  learn,  both  from  his  virtues  and  from  his 
defects.  And  let  no  man  who  has  no  trial,  bless  himself  that  he 
is  free  from  such  defects.  The  inquiry  is  not,  whether  there 
be  chaff, — there  is  more  or  less  with  all, — but,  i«  there  any 
wheat?  And,  "  what  is  the  chaff  to  the  wheat  ?  "  We  have 
lost  what  we  can  ill  afford  to  lose — an  affectionate,  high-minded, 
intelligent,  Christian  physician,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  in  the 
midst  of  usefulness. 

Note.  Gardner  Wheeler  Cobb,  son  of  Elkanah  Cobb,  was 
born  22  Jan.,  1816.  He  read  medicine  with  Geo.  C.  Wheeler, 
M.  D.,  of  St.  Johnsbury  ;  attended  lectures  at  Dartmouth  College 
and  there  received  the  degree  of  M.  D.  in  1840 ;  practiced  medi- 
cine in  Peacham  from  1840  till  his  death,  15  September,  1847. 

T.  S.  P. 


SERMON  XII. 

AT  THE  FUA'EEAL  OF  JONATHAN'  3IAIISH. 

1  am  lie  that  liveth,  and  was  dead ;  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forevermore, 
amen  ;  and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death.    Eevelation  i.  18. 

Men  may  well  tremble  at  the  presence  of  God.  A  clear 
view  of  him  has  always  excited  apprehension.  He  is  the  great 
and  terrible  God.  When  he  appeared  to  the  patriarchs,  the 
first  emotion,  even  of  their  minds,  was  fear.  Their  fears  were 
stronger  than  their  hopes.  His  dread  fell  on  them,  and  his 
excellency  made  them  afraid.  His  glory  was  overwhelming  to 
their  meanness  and  insignificance,  and  they  sank  under  it. 
They  were  prepared  to  receive  his  messages  of  mercy  only  after 
their  fears  were  quieted,  and  their  hearts  assured. 

It  was  so  with  the  prophets.  What  a  sinking  with  Isaiah 
when  he  beheld  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  "  I  am  a  man  of  un- 
clean lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people  of  unclean  lips : 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  the  king,  the  Lord  of  hosts."  So  of 
Habakkuk.*  **My  belly  trembled ;  my  lips  quivered  at  the 
voice :  rottenness  entered  into  my  bones,  and  I  trembled  in 
myself."  Peter  sank  down  before  the  glory,  even  veiled  in 
mortal  flesh,  saying,  "Depart  from  me;  for  I  am  a  sinful 
man,  0  Lord."  The  beloved  disciple  beheld  the  glory  of  the 
Savior,  and  was  overwhelmed  at  the  sight.  "  I  saw  one  like 
unto  the  Son  of  man."  And  yet  how  unlike  the  poor,  for- 
saken, persecuted,  crucified  Master  whom  he  had  known  after 
the  flesh.  He  had  associated  with  the  man  of  sorrows,  and  all 
his  most  interesting  recollections  were  of  him  in  this  form — in 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  JONATHAN  MARSH.       177 

bis  state  of  Immiliation.  And  now  so  exalted  and  glorious 
was  he,  the  beloved  disciple  hardly  knew  him,  "I  saw  one 
like  unto  the  Son  of  man,  clothed  with  a  garment  down  to  the 
foot ;  and  girt  about  the  paps  with  a  golden  girdle.  His  head 
and  his  hairs  were  white  like  wool,  as  white  as  snow ;  and  his 
eyes  were  as  a  flame  of  fire  ;  and  his  feet  like  unto  fine  brass, 
as  if  they  burned  in  the  furnace  :  and  his  voice  as  the  sound 
of  many  waters.  And  he  had  in  his  right  hand  seven  stars  ; 
and  out  of  his  mouth  went  a  sharp  two-edged  sword ;  and  his 
countenance  was  as  the  sun  shineth  in  his  strength."  So 
changed,  so  exalted,  that  the  disciple  hardly  knew  him ;  and 
shall  he  be  known  of  Christ  ?  Will  Christ  in  his  exaltation 
and  glory,  remember  the  humble  friends  of  his  low  estate  ? 
Fit  companions  of  the  man  of  sorrows,  fit  companions  of  him  in 
the  form  of  a  servant,  are  they  his  fit  companions  now  ?  In 
all  externals  they  are  the  same,  while  a  great  change  has  passed 
over  him.  I  fancy  there  was  a  feeling  of  joy  with  the  beloved 
disciple,  that  his  Master  was  so  exalted,  and  of  regret  that  he 
was  exalted  beyond  his  reach-— taken  out  of  his  sphere— no 
longer  a  fit  companion  for  him.  He  is  exalted,  and  I  rejoice 
at  it ;  but  his  very  exaltation  has  made  an  impassable  gulf  be- 
tween us.  I,  whither  shall  I  go?  The  feeling  was  over- 
whelming. "When  I  saw  him,  I  fell  at  his  feet  as  dead. 
And  he  laid  his  right  hand  upon  me,  saying  unto  me.  Fear 
not."  There  is  no  cause  to  fear.  The  heart  of  man  is  often 
changed  by  a  change  of  circumstances,  and  he  no  longer  re- 
members in  his  prosperity  the  humble  friends  of  his  low  estate. 
But  Jesus  Christ  is  the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for- 
ever." His  heart  is  in  the  right  place.  His  humble  friends 
are  never  forgotten.  He  is  exalted  for  them  as  well  as  for 
himself.     "  For  if  we  be  dead  with  him,  we  shall  also  live  with 


178  EEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

him  :  If  we  suffer,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him."  *'  A^erily  I 
say  unto  you,  That  ye  which  have  followed  me  in  the  regener- 
ation, when  the  Son  of  man  shall  sit  in  the  throne  of  his  glory, 
ye  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones,  judging  the  twelve 
tribes  of  Israel.  And  every  one  that  hath  forsaken  houses,  or 
brethren,  or  sisters,  or  ftither,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children, 
or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundred  fold, 
and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life."  Jesus  is  not  changed. 
"  Fear  not ;  I  am  the  first  and  last :  I  am  he  that  liveth,  and 
was  dead ;  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forevermore,  amen ;  and 
have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  This  was  to  quiet  the 
fears  and  reassure  the  heart  of  John.  "It  is  I;  be  not 
afraid."  I  am  Jesus,  the  Savior,  who  have  died,  and  been 
raised  from  the  dead,  and  die  no  more.  "  For  in  that  he  died, 
he  died  unto  sin  once."  "  Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear  the 
sins  of  many."  But  the  atonement  completed,  his  death  would 
never  be  repeated.  "  Christ,  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth 
no  more  ;  death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  him."  On  the 
contrary,  he  has  become  the  conquerer  of  death,  and  received 
dominion  over  it.  It  goes  and  comes  at  his  bidding.  "  I  have 
the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  The  key  is  the  emblem  of 
power  or  authority.  I  have  the  key  which  opens  the  door  of 
exit  from  life — the  door  of  entrance  to  the  invisible  world.  It 
is  his  to  remove  the  living,  as  it  is  his  to  raise  the  dead.  He 
"openeth,  and  no  man  shutteth ;  and  shutteth,  and  no  man 
openeth."  He  opens  the  gates  of  death  when  he  pleases — 
the  gates  of  the  eternal  world,  of  happiness  or  misery — is  the 
disposer  of  all  events,  and  the  Judge  of  all,  from  whose  sen- 
tence there  is  no  appeal.  It  is  as  though  this  and  the  unseen 
world — parts  of  the  same  kingdom,  and  under  the  authority  of 
the  same  king — were  separated  only  by  a  very  thin  partition, 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  JONATHAN  MARSH.       179 

in  wliicli  is  a  gate  or  door  through  which  all  must  go  ia 
their  passage  from  time  to  eternity.  This  door  or  gate  is 
locked,  and  Christ  has  the  key.  "I  have  the  keys  of  hell 
(i.  e.  of  the  unseen  world)  and  of  death."  This  was  to  quiet 
the  fears,  and  encourage  the  heart  of  the  disciple.  The  power 
was  with  the  Savior — all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  Nor 
was  this  for  his  sake  alone,  but  for  ours  also.  The  instruction 
it  gives  is  of  deep  interest  to  us  all.  Let  us  turn  our  attention 
to  some  important  considerations. 

I.  It  is  a  GREAT  THING  TO  DIE.  Things  are  often  presented 
to  us  in  a  false  light — little  things  magnified,  and  great  ones 
diminished.  Death,  as  well  as  life,  has  its  importance  with 
all.  Nature  shrinks  from  it.  It  is  an  event  of  uncommon 
importance.  The  Son  of  God,  the  Redeemer  of  men,  presides 
over  death.  He  has  the  key  of  death.  He  signalizes  himself 
by  this  fact.  And  is  death  a  trifle,  if  he  is  magnified  by  pre- 
siding over  it  ?  "We  sometimes  speak  lightly  of  it,  and  it  fails 
to  make  an  impression  of  its  deep  importance.  *'  Such  an  one 
is  dead."  It  is  a  matter  of  course,  or  a  matter  of  wonder,  as 
it  had,  or  had  not  been  anticipated.  But  the  deep  and  awful 
import  of  our  words  is  not  felt.  Yet,  when  we  consider  the 
thing  in  itself,  we  feel  that  it  is  a  great  thing  to  die.  A  rea- 
sonable soul  has  changed  states.  An  intelligent  being  has 
gone  out  of  the  world.  A  state  of  probation  has  closed.  A 
never-dying  soul  has  gone  to  bliss  or  woe.  How  important  is 
life !  And  how  careful  a  guard  has  God  set  over  it  I  God 
reserves  it  to  himself  as  his  peculiar  prerogative  to  dispose  of 
it.  "I  kill,  and  I  make  alive"— "the  God  of  the  spirits  of 
all  flesh."  He  is  not  merely  the  Father  of  spirits,  whose 
dwelling  is  not  in  flesh,  but  also  the  God  of  the  spirits  of  all 
flesh.     The  Father  of  angels,  and  no  less  our  Father.     It  is  a 


180  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

great  thing  to  die,  as  our  life  and  every  breath  we  draw  is  un- 
der his  direction.  "If  he  gather  unto  himself  his  spirit  and 
his  breath,  all  flesh  shall  perish  together,  and  man  shall  turn 
again  unto  dust." 

n.  Death  never  comes  at  random.  It  is  not  an  accident 
or  casualty,  but  an  act  of  divine  determination  in  reference  to 
every  case.  For  as  the  key  signifies  authority  and  power,  the 
turning  of  this  key  of  death  is  an  authoritative  act.  The  key 
is  in  the  hand  of  the  Savior,  and  it  is  used  with  determination 
and  judgment.  He  opens  the  gate  from  life  to  death — from 
this  to  the  unseen  world.  And  none  but  he  can  do  it.  "Is 
there  not  an  appointed  time  to  man  upon  earth  ?"  He  "  hath 
determined  the  times  before  appointed,  and  the  bounds  of  their 
habitation," — ^bounds  which  they  cannot  pass.  Our  days  are 
numbered  and  measured.  What  is  called  accident  or  casualty 
is  only  in  reference  to  us,  and  shows  our  ignorance  of  futurity. 
But  it  has  no  reference  to  him.  To  his  all-comprehending 
mind  there  can  be  no  accident.  For  those  who  live  as  though 
they  thought  they  came  into  the  world  by  chance,  it  is  natural 
to  think  that  they  shall  die  and  go  out  of  it  by  chance. 
"  Without  God  "  in  the  commencement  of  their  being,  they 
are,  consistently,  without  him  in  its  close.  They  are  atheists, 
not  heathen.  The  very  heathen  will  rise  up  in  judgment 
against  those  who  would  take  the  key  that  opens  the  gate  of 
death  from  the  hands  of  the  Savior  and  give  it  to  accident, — 
would  degrade  the  Savior  and  enthrone  chance, — for  the  hea- 
then had  no  such  doctrine  as  made  the  beginning  and  end  of 
life  a  chance. 

The  Savior  measures  our  time  on  earth,  and  at  his  will  we 
go  hence.  He  employs  various  means  and  instruments,  but 
they  are  all  under  his  control,  and  work  his  will.     Then  by 


AT  TUE  FUNERAL  OP  JONATHAN  MARSH.       181 

whatever  means,  or  at  whatever  time,  we  die  not  at  random. 
Death,  though  accident  with  us,  is  design  with  Him.  It  is  his 
act,  according  to  the  counsel  of  his  own  will.  What  a  thought 
— that  the  Savior  is  constantly  concerned  in  measuring  out  our 
life  !  That  it  is  he  who  weakens  our  strength,  and  cuts  short 
the  thread  of  life,  in  what  seems  to  us  the  midst  of  our  days  I 

III.  Our  life  on  earth  is  under  the  constant  notice 
OF  THE  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  has  the  key  of  death,  and 
waits  and  watches  for  the  time  to  turn  the  key  and  close  life. 
Through  the  whole  of  that  time  which  he  measures  out  to  us, 
we  are  under  his  eye — in  a  state  of  probation.  He  takes  con- 
stant notice  of  what  we  do,  and  of  what  we  neglect.  For  as 
his  turning  the  key  at  last  is  a  judicial  act,  it  supposes  a  close 
and  accurate  inspection,  and  proceeds  upon  it.  Of  him  who 
had  the  key  it  is  said,  also,  that  "his  eyes  were  as  a  flame  of 
fire."  "With  these  eyes  he  sees  all  that  is  done — they  pierce 
through  every  disguise — the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both 
alike  to  them.  "There  is  no  darkness,  nor  shadow  of  death, 
where  the  workers  of  iniquity  may  hide  themselves."  He  ob- 
serves all  that  is  done — not  the  outward  appearance,  merely, 
but  the  heart.  Did  careless  sinners  consider  this — that  he  be- 
holds them  with  eyes  like  a  flaming  fire,  and  with  the  key  in 
his  hand — would  they  dare  still  to  trifle  ?  He  beholds  their 
bold  adventures,  or  insolent  attempts — their  drowsy  slumbers, 
or  lingering  delays.  He  beholds  the  effect  of  every  sermon, 
the  spirit  under  every  prayer,  the  influence  of  all  his  provi- 
dences. Oh  1  did  they  consider  this,  their  fears  would  be 
awakened,  and  their  minds  excited  to  agony,  lest  the  key 
should  be  turned  before  their  great  work  was  accomplished. 

Our  life  is  under  the  constant  inspection  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  "  I  search  the  heart,  I  try  the  reins,  even  to  give 
16 


182  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

every  man  according  to  his  ways,  and  according  to  the  fruit  of 
his  doings."  As  he  knows  us,  "our  down-sitting  and  up- 
rising; and  understands  our  thoughts  afar  off;  "  so  he  knows 
our  temptations,  and  dangers,  and  enemies,  and  can  protect  us 
to  the  utmost.  How  easy  for  him  who  has  the  lives  of  all  in 
his  hand,  to  disappoint  the  devices  of  the  crafty,  and  carry 
their  counsel  headlong.  The  key  is  turned,  and  they  re- 
moved ;  all  their  plans  are  broken  up,  and  their  thoughts  per- 
ish. If  those  who  trust  in  him  are  left  to  suffer,  it  is  not  from 
inadvertency,  or  indifference,  or  impotence  ;  but  from  design. 
They  are  chastened  for  their  profit.  They  suffer  in  the  flesh, 
that  they  should  not  be  condemned  with  the  world.  Or  if  the 
wicked  triumph  for  a  time,  their  triumph  does  not  take  hint 
unawares.  He  waits  his  time.  "  For  he  seeth  that  their  day 
is  coming."     He  turns  his  key,  how  and  when  he  will. 

IV.    His    power  IN    DEATH  CANNOT    BE    RESISTED.       "There 

is  no  man  that  hath  power  over  the  spirit,  to  retain  the  spirit ; 
neither  hath  he  power  in  the  day  of  death  :  and  there  is  no  dis- 
charge in  that  war ;  neither  shall  wickedness  deliver  those  that 
are  given  to  it."  It  is  in  vain  to  struggle  when  Christ  turns 
the  key.  The  power  of  the  keys,  lodged  with  him,  is  abso- 
lutely decisive,  and  the  effects  permanent.  That  soul  for 
whose  departure  the  key  is  turned  must  go,  willing  or  unwil- 
ling, ready  or  not  ready.  It  may  be  engaged  in  the  most  de- 
lightful employment.  Cheered  by  the  brightest  hopes,  it  may 
look  forward  to  the  future  with  high  anticipations  of  joy. 
"  To-morrow  shall  be  as  this  day,  and  much  more  abundant." 
"  I  will  go  into  such  a  city,  and  continue  there  a  year,  and 
buy,  and  sell,  and  get  gain."  It  must  go — leave  all  and  go. 
Those  who  would  not  leave  all  through  love  for  Christ,  must 
now  leave  all  at  his  command.     The   turning  of  the  key  is 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  JONATHAN  MARSH.       183 

definite,  and  ends  the  business.  There  is  no  power  to  resist 
or  withstand.  Christ's  invitations  may  be  slighted,  and  his  gos- 
pel in  its  saving  influence  resisted.  The  heart  hardened  in  sin 
may  withstand  the  claims  of  eternal  mercy  ;  but  his  power  that 
takes  away  the  life  he  gave,  no  man  can  resist.  In  his  hands 
are  the  keys  of  death.  How  easy  for  him  to  stop  the  breath, 
and  recall  the  spirit  he  gave  ! 

V.  Souls  upon  whom  this  key  is  turned,  though  sepa- 
rated FROM  THIS  WORLD,  DO  NOT  CEASE  TO  BE.  Dead,  they 
still  live — not  metaphysically,  or  figuratively,  but  really  and 
truly.  Although  in  the  grave,  they  are  not  lost  in  oblivion. 
Removed  from  earth,  they  still  exist  with  all  the  powers  and 
faculties  of  an  immortal  nature.  They  pass  from  the  sight  of 
their  fellow  men,  and  have  no  part  in  the  things  done  on  earth. 
Their  mode  of  existence  and  sphere  of  operation  are  changed, 
but  the  vital  power  remains.  This  has  been  a  common  feeling 
with  all  men,  always  and  everywhere  ;  and  language  is  so  framed 
as  to  express  it.  Death  is  a  removal — a  departure.  It  is  a 
breathing  out  the  spirit — a  giving  up  the  ghost — implying  even 
in  death  a  continued  existence. 

The  same  idea  is  presented,  all  through  the  Scriptures. 
"Enoch  walked  with  God,  and  he  was  not;  fot  God  took 
him."  Ho  ceased  to  be  on  earth,  but  still  lived  with  God. 
Abraham  gave  up  the  ghost  and  was  gathered  to  his  people, — 
his  body  was  not  brought  into  the  same  grave  with  theirs,  for 
they  were  buried  hundreds  of  miles  apart, — but  his  spirit  was 
gathered  to  theirs — dead,  yet  alive.  The  living  is  gathered  to 
the  company  of  the  living.  So  Isaac  and  Jacob,  heirs  with 
him  of  the  same  inheritance,  did  not  cease  to  be  when  their 
voices  were  no  more  heard,  nor  their  footsteps  seen  on  earth. 
God  was  still  their  God — out  of  the  flesh  as  well  as  in  the 


184 


REV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 


flesh.  "  He  is  not  tlie  God  of  the  dead,  but  the  God  of  the 
living."  They  see  with  these  eyes  no  more,  and  no  more  hear 
with  these  ears;  but  still  see,  and  hear,  and  understand.  It  is 
a  mystery  to  us  how  the  mind  can  hold  intercourse  with  the 
external  world  by  means  of  the  senses.  It  is  no  more  myste- 
rious that  the  intercourse  should  be  continued  without  them,  or 
by  other  means  of  which  we  have  now  no  ap]3rehension.  Souls 
departing  from  earth  do  not  cease  to  be.  The  key  that  opens 
the  door  for  their  departure  from  earth,  opens  the  door  of  ad- 
mission to  another  world. 

YI.    TUE  INVISIBLE  WORLD    IS    UNDER    THE    CONTROL  OF    THE 

Savior.  He  has  the  same  unlimited  autliority  there  as  here. 
There  and  here  are  only  different  provinces  of  the  same  king- 
dom. How  glorious  his  power  and  grace,  and  how  complete 
his  dominion  !  "  Fear  not ;  I  am  the  first  and  the  last :  I  am 
he  that  liveth  and  was  dead  ;  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forever- 
more,  amen;  and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  He 
has  opened  the  celestial  world  to  our  view,  that  it  may  be  open 
also  to  our  safe  entrance  and  blissful  habitation.  He  has  pre- 
sented it  as  it  were  afar  off,  that  it  may  raise  our  hopes  and 
attract  our  hearts.  He  who  was  dead,  and  lives,  has  entered 
heaven  before  us,  and  for  us — as  our  forerunner — "  the  Apostle 
and  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  Christ  Jesus."  He  has 
overcome  liim  who  had  the  power  of  death,  and  joined  the 
power  of  death  to  his  own,  and  the  region  of  death  to  his  do- 
minion. He  has  delivered  *'them  who  through  fear  of  death 
were  all  their  life  time  subject  to  bondage."  "  He  hath  abol- 
ished death,  and  hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
through  the  gospel. ' '  He  bids  us  lift  up  our  eyes,  and  behold  the 
heavens  opened,  and  himself  standing  at  the  riglit  hand  of  God. 
He  has  opened  hell  as  well  as  heaven  to  our  view — the  world 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OP  JONATHAN  MARSH.       185 

of  misery  as  well  as  the  world  of  blessedness — to  warn  as  well 
as  to  allure — to  excite  us  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  as 
well  as  to  lay  hold  of  eternal  life.  He  is  the  Judge  of  the 
world,  as  well  as  the  Savior.  "  For  to  this  end  Christ  both 
died,  and  rose,  and  revived,  that  he  might  be  Lord  both  of  the 
dead  and  living."  It  is  his  to  punish  those  who  know  not 
God  and  obey  not  his  gospel,  as  well  as  to  save  with  an  ever- 
lasting salvation  those  "  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold 
upon  the  hope  set  before  them." 

As  mediator  he  must  deal  equitably  between  the  disagreeino- 
parties.  He  must  render  back  entire  his  violated  rights  to  the 
ruler  of  the  world,  and  obtain  for  us  as  entire  his  forfeited 
favor.  This  was  his  work,  when  as  a  sacrifice  he  was  slain  to 
redeem  us  to  God  by  his  blood— to  give  him  back  his  revolted 
creatures,  reconciled  and  restored — and  to  give  them  pardon, 
acceptance  with  God,  and  eternal  blessedness.  It  was  his  to 
give  this  pardon  and  acceptance  only  as  they  "  yield  themselves 
unto  God,  as  those  that  are  alive  from  the  dead,  and  their 
members  as  instruments  of  righteousness  unto  God."  The  in- 
visible world  as  well  as  this  is  under  his  control.  The  power 
to  reward  and  punish,  as  well  as  the  power  to  save,  is  his. 
There  is  no  mercy  like  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
There  is  no  wrath  like  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  die,  and  we  die  but  once.  "  It  is  ap- 
pointed unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment." 
^\q  die  not  at  random,  but  when  Christ  wills  it.  The  key  of 
death  is  in  his  hand,  and  he  turns  it  when,  and  upon  whom  he 
will.  AYc  should  live  expecting  death.  How  absurd  to  forget 
death,  and  think  he  has  forgotten  it  too ;  when  the  key  is  in 
his  hand  for  the  very  purpose  of  opening  the  door  for  our  exit ! 
How  absurd  to  think  that  he  will  neglect  his  work  and  let  us 
16* 


186  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

live,  because  wo  neglect  ours  and  make  no  preparation  for 
death.  No  man,  indeed,  knoweth  the  day  of  his  death.  But 
tliough  the  time  of  deatli  be  uncertain,  it  cannot  be  remote 
from  any.  How  short  is  the  measure  of  life  I  And  how  vain 
to  promise  ourselves  that  which  is  in  the  power  of  another — to 
presume  upon  life's  continuance,  and  thus  provoke  him  ia 
whose  hand  are  the  keys  of  death  I  How  wise  to  accommodate 
ourselves  to  his  pleasure — to  live  as  though  continually  expect- 
ing to  depart  hence — "  confessing  that  we  are  strangers  and 
pilgrims  on  the  eartli," — not  setting  our  affections  on  the 
world,  but  making  all  our  arrangements  to  leave  it — laying  up 
treasures  in  heaven,  and  making  ourselves  ready  to  go  there ! 

Nor  need  we  sink  or  faint  when  our  friends  depart — least  of 
all  think  it  strange,  "  as  though  some  strange  thing  happened." 
It  may  take  us  by  surprise.  It  may  come  in  ways,  and  by 
means,  and  at  times  that  make  it  peculiarly  distressing.  But 
it  is  the  result  of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness — the  act  of  him 
who  has  the  key  of  death.  Through  all  means  and  instruments 
we  see  him — tlirough  lamentations  and  tears  we  hear  his  voice, 
saying,  "  Fear  not ;  I  am  the  first  and  last :  I  am  he  that  liv- 
eth  and  was  dead ;  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forevermore,  amen ; 
and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  "Acquaint  now 
thyself  with  him,  and  be  at  peace." 

Note.  Jonathan  Marsh,  son  of  Samuel  White  Marsh,  (b.  Ha- 
verhill, Mass.,  d.  4  Aug.,  1841,  set.  76,)  and  Sally  Brown,  his 
wife,  (d.  30  July,  1814,  set.  50,)  was  born  in  Danville,  Vt.,  24 
March,  1798.  After  learning-  the  shoemaker's  trade  in  Haverhill, 
Mass.,  he  resided  in  St.  Johnsbury,  Vt.,  three  years;  in  Dan- 
ville, seven  years  ;  in  Peacham  until  his  death,  Monday,  25  June, 
1849.  During  the  last  part  of  his  life  he  was  a  farmer.  He  w-as 
a  faithful,  humble  Christian.  Mr.  Merrill's  remarks  concerning 
his  character  were  not  written  out  with  the  sermon  and  cannot 
now  be  recovered.  T.  8.  P. 


SERMON  XIII. 

ONE  HABITUAL  SIN  KUINS  THE  SOUL. 

"».Vhon  I  bow  down  myself  in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  the  Lord  pardon  thy  ser- 
vant in  this  thing.    2  Kings  v.  18. 

These  are  the  words  of  Naaman  the  Syrian — a  prayer,  we 
may  call  it,  offered  under  peculiar  circumstances.  There  is 
about  it  a  degree  of  frankness  and  sincerity,  in  themselves  wor- 
thy of  commendation.  In  making  a  covenant  with  God,  he 
would  have  the  conditions  well  understood.  The  promise  went 
no  farther  than  the  intention  to  perform.  So  far  I  will  go. 
As  to  any  thing  beyond  that,  I  must  be  excused  on  account  of 
my  peculiar  situation.  But  with  God,  peculiar  situation  is  no 
excuse.  His  authority  extends  to  all  situations,  and  his  laws 
are  binding  in  all  situations.  No  exceptions  or  reservations 
can  be  allowed. 

This  case  is  worthy  of  our  attention,  as  a  manifestation 
of  the  spirit  of  the  carnal  mind.  Naaman  had  been  cured 
of  leprosy,  and  was  strongly  affected  by  this  exhibition  of 
the  power  of  God.  He  was  satisfied  that  none  of  the  gods 
which  he  had  worshipped  could  perform  such  a  work,  and  de- 
termined at  all  hazards  to  renounce  them.  They  should  re- 
ceive no  more  worship  and  sacrifice  from  him.  "Behold,  now 
I  know  there  is  no  God  in  all  the  earth  but  in  Israel.  . 
Thy  servant  will  henceforth  offer  neither  burnt  offering  nor 
sacrifice  unto  any  other  gods,  but  unto  the  Lord."  Now  this 
was  going  a  good  way  for  a  heathen, — making  what  we  would 
be  disposed  to  call  a  good  beginning.     And  a  good  beginning 


188  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

it  was,  if  it  had  been  carried  out  in  all  its  Icngtli  and  breadth. 
But  here  was  a  failure — evidencing  that  the  very  foundation, 
good  as  it  appeared,  had  not  been  properly  laid.  His  master 
was  an  idolater,  and  he  must  attend  him,  not  merely  at  court, 
but  at  the  Idol  temple.  Of  course  it  would  be  expected  that 
he  would  conform  to  the  established  usages.  When  his  master 
bowed  down  to  the  idol,  he  must  do  so  too.  He  must  either 
conform  or  lose  his  place  at  court,  and  perhaps  his  head  too. 
The  temptation  was  very  strong.  He  had  not  the  heart  to  re- 
sist it.  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  He 
seemed  conscious  that  it  was  wrong, — that  there  was  no  com- 
munion between  God  and  idols.  But  then,  without  it,  dis- 
grace and  suffering,  and  perhaps  death,  awaited  him.  Not 
having  the  spirit  of  a  martyr,  he  was  not  willing  to  give  up  all, 
or  to  risk  all  in  such  a  cause.  He  determined  to  conform,  and 
in  order  to  palliate  his  fault  as  much  as  possible,  and  cast  the 
blame  upon  his  circumstances,  he  smoothed  the  whole  over  with 
"  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing.  I  am  sorry  it 
happened  so.  But,  situated  as  I  am,  how  can  I  help  it?" 
A  really  pious  man  would  have  known  how  to  help  it.  A  de- 
termination, '*  it  must  not  and  shall  not  be  done,"  would  have 
been  formed  in  a  moment.  He  would  have  said,  "It  is  pleas- 
ant to  hold  a  place  among  the  honorable  of  the  earth,  but  there 
is  no  necessity  that  I  should  hold  that  place  at  all  hazards.  It 
is  pleasant  to  live,  but  there  is  no  necessity  that  I  should  live 
at  all  hazards.  But  '  necessity  is  laid  upon  me,  yea,  woe  is 
unto  me,'  if  I  obey  not  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God,"  Earthly 
distinction,  and  even  life  itself,  when  laid  in  the  balance  against 
the  favor  of  God,  are  altogether  lighter  than  vanity.  There 
were  many  things  favorable  in  the  case  of  this  man,  but  this 
one  thing  destroyed  the  whole.     He  could  give  up  many  things. 


ONE   HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  189 

but  he  could  not  give  up  all.  And  for  the  same  reason,  thou- 
sands who  go  far  in  religious  ways,  come  short  of  salvation. 
They  will  not  give  up  enough.  For  one  sin,  persisted  in,  will 
destroy  the  soul.  There  is  no  necessity  for  going  all  the 
length  of  abomination  ;  let  a  man  hold  on  to  one  sin,  whatever 
it  may  be,  and  he  is  forever  ruined.  I  am  aware  that  this  is 
contrary  to  the  apprehensions  of  most  men  ;  they  have  no  idea 
of  such  thorough-going  devotion  to  the  service  of  God.  Al- 
lowances are  made  for  sin  here,  that  God  will  not  make  here- 
after. Indeed,  the  general  apprehension  seems  to  be,  that  if 
the  conduct  is  upright  in  the  main,  and  the  great  evils  avoided, 
the  Lord  will  pardon  an  indulgence  in  smaller  matters.  Most 
men  would  judge  Naaman,  with  his  simple  reservation,  a  pretty 
good  Christan.  But  the  law  does  not  so  judge — nor  shall  we, 
if  the  truth  have  any  place  in  us. 

One    SIN   DELIBERATELY   PERSISTED   IN   DESTROVS    TOE   SOUL. 

From  the  very  nature  of  sin,  it  must  be  so.  What  is  sin  ? 
A  departure  from  God — a  passing  over  bounds  which  he  has 
fixed — a  cloud  to  hide  the  face  of  God.  While  a  single  sin  is 
persisted  in,  the  soul  is  away  from  God,  and  without  the  circle 
of  blessedness.  And  there  hangs  the  cloud  to  hide  His  face. 
Thus,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  one  sin  must  be  ruinous. 
To  save  a  soul  that  persists  in  a  single  sin,  is  as  much  impossi- 
ble as  to  change  the  character  and  laws  of  God.  We  may  as 
well  suppose  God  to  be  different  from  what  he  is,  as  to  suppose 
such  a  salvation.  Sin,  is  going  away  from  God  ;  and  persist- 
ing in  sin,  is  continuing  away.  Doing  many  things  which  God 
has  re((uired,  does  not  destroy  the  distance.  While  the  soul 
continues  away  from  God  it  must  be  in  a  state  of  ruin  and 
wretchedness.  So  that  the  hope  of  many,  that  some  things 
may  be  neglected  provided  others  are  performed,  is  palpably 


190  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

absurd.  Tlie  cause  of  ruin  must  cease  to  act  before  the  ruin 
can  be  repaired.  And  while  one  sin  is  persisted  in,  the  cause 
remains. 

From  the  very  nature  of  religion,  one  sin  persisted  in  de- 
stro3^s  the  soul.  What  is  religion  ?  It  is  the  image  of  God 
enstamped  on  the  soul — the  soul  renewed  again  in  the  image 
of  him  that  created  it.  It  is  a  grafting  into  the  good  olive 
tree.  And  the  graft  must  first  be  separated  entirely  from  the 
old  stock.  So  that  religion  and  peristence  in  a  single  sin  are 
inconsistent.  For  whoever  persists  in  a  single  sin,  shows  that 
he  has  not  been  cut  off  from  the  old  stock.  If  he  had  been, 
he  would  not  be  nourished  by  that  root.  Sin  would  not  have 
dominion  over  him.  Persistence  in  one  sin  is  as  clear  and 
convincing  evidence  that  he  has  no  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter, 
as  persistence  in  ten  thousand.  Eeligion  is  the  law  of  God 
written  in  the  heart, — not  a  mutilated  copy  of  the  law,  but  the 
whole,  written  in  fair  legible  characters — a  law  contrary  to 
all  sin — making  no  allowance — forbidding  one  sin  as  well  as 
another.  Can  he  who  has  the  law  thus  written,  not  with  ink, 
but  with  the  Spirit  of  God,  persist  in  any  species  of  iniquity  ? 
Can  he  say,  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing," 
while  he  determines  to  hold  on  to  it  ?  The  very  spirit  of  re- 
ligion is  to  abstain  from  every  appearance  of  evil.  And  if  the 
Spirit  of  God  dwell  in  him,  he  will  not  desire  to  abide  in  any 
iniquity.  He  will  rejoice  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has 
made  him  free,  and  have  no  wish  to  be  again  subjected  to  bon- 
dage. Taking  the  Lord  Jehovah  for  his  portion,  he  can  wil- 
lingly renounce  every  thing  which  would  separate  him  from 
his  portion.  He  will  no  more  think  of  indulging  sin  of  one 
kind  than  sin  of  all  kinds.  The  same  spirit  which  leads  him 
to  hate  one,  leads  him  to  hate  all.     From  the  very  nature  of 


ONE   HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  191 

religion,  then,  it  is  evident  that  one  sin  persisted  in,  must  de- 
stroy the  soul ; — that  the  man  who  is  unwilling  to  do  or  to  give 
up  what  God  requires  of  him,  and  remains  so,  is  a  lost  man. 
Whatever  he  may  be  in  other  respects,  alters  not  the  case  at 
all.  The  sin  which  he  holds  on  to,  will  lead  him  to  perdition. 
No  matter  what  the  sin  may  be,  omission  or  commission,  as 
long  as  he  makes  a  reservation  of  that,  and  spares  that,  so  long 
he  remains  uninterested  in  the  great  salvation.  And  if  in  that 
salvation  ho  has  hopes,  they  are  the  hopes  of  the  hypocrite. 
What  has  he  to  do  with  hope,  who  deliberately  withholds  what 
God  has  required  of  him,  and  by  withholding  declares  that  he 
prizes  it  above  the  favor  of  God,  and  that  he  would  rather  lose 
heaven  than  lose  it?  What  right  had  Naaman  to  hope,  while 
he  loved  a  place  in  an  idolatrous  court  better  than  the  favor  of 
God,  and  was  disposed  to  compromise  between  his  duty  to  God 
and  his  present  interest  ?  He  was  ready  to  serve  God  only  so 
far  as  his  worldly  prospects  would  admit.  Can  a  man  posses- 
sing such  a  spirit  be  a  servant  of  God  ?  Will  God  accept  his 
person  and  look  favorably  upon  his  services,  when  the  man  re- 
gards himself  first,  and  the  best  of  all  beings  as  only  second  ? 

The  Bihle  goes  upon  the  supposition  that  one  sin  persisted 
in  will  destroy  the  soul.  Mark  the  language.  "The  wrath 
of  God  is  revealed  from  heaven  against  all  ungodliness  and  un- 
righteousness." "  Know  ye  not  that  the  unrighteous  shall  not 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  God  ?  Be  not  deceived  :  neither  for- 
nicators, nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor 
abusers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous, 
nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners  shall  inlieiit  the 
kingdom  of  God,"  excluding  not  merely  the  man  who  is  guilty 
of  two  or  three  of  these,  but  any  man  who  persists  in  any  one 
of  them.     Let  him  practice  any  one  of  them,  and  tliough  he 


192  EEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

avoid  all  the  rest  as  he  would  perdition,  lie  is  ruined.  "  For 
whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offend  in  one 
point,  he  is  guilty  of  all," — he  is  a  condemned  worker  of  in- 
iquity. So  far  from  his  obedience  being  an  oflfset  to  his  diso- 
bedience, it  shall  not  even  be  mentioned.  In  his  iniquity  in 
which  he  lived,  he  shall  die.  The  declarations  of  God  aim  at 
the  utter  extirpation  of  sin,  and  make  no  allowance  for  it  in 
any  shape.  The  man  who  lives  in  it  shall  perish  by  it.  He 
may  say,  *'  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing,"  but 
God  hath  said,  "  Mine  eye  shall  not  pity,  and  my  hand  shall 
not  spare." 

Agum,  facts  loarrant  the  assertion  that  one  sin  persisted  in 
destroys  the  soul. 

What  ruined  Balaam  ?  There  was  a  great  appearance  of 
piety  about  that  man.  Indeed,  if  circumstances  were  ever  fa- 
vorable to  religion,  his  were.  He  was  skilled  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  God  above  his  fellows — favored  with  divine  revelations 
— seeing  the  people  of  God  in  their  peculiarities  and  numbers 
and  blessedness — lookinoj  on  to  distant  time  and  beholding  a 
star  rising  out  of  Jacob  and  a  sceptre  out  of  Israel,  the  king- 
dom and  glory  and  triumph  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  he  was 
strongly  affected  as  any  man  would  be  by  such  a  glorious  pros- 
pect— conscientious,  too,  for  the  first  message  and  temptation 
of  Balak  was  rejected.  And  when  he  went,  he  went  declaring, 
**  the  word  that  God  putteth  into  my  mouth,  that  shall  I 
speak."  Through  all  his  prophesyings  he  adhered  strictly  to 
this  rule.  "  If  Balak  would  give  me  his  house  full  of  silver 
and  gold,  I  cannot  go  beyond  the  commandment  of  the  Lord." 
Now  here  is  knowledge,  and  conscience,  and  firmness.  He 
has  resisted  the  temptation,  and  come  oflf  conqueror  and  gone 
home.     Had  it  ended  here,  who  knows  but  this  man  might 


ONE    HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  193 

bavG  been  saved  ?  But  he  could  not  forget  the  silver  and  the 
gold.  He  had  rejected  them,  but  his  heart  went  after  covet- 
ousness.  His  eyes  were  dazzled  and  his  thoughts  are  deep  in 
meditation  upon  the  silver  and  the  gold.  How  shall  he  obtain 
them.  He  did  not  dare  prophecy  a  direct  lie  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord.  That  was  too  barefaced.  But  he  went  about  to 
accomplish  the  same  thing  in  another  way.  He  "loved  the 
wages  of  unrighteousness,"  and  to  gain  them  he  must  assist 
Balak  to  ruin  Israel.  Counsel  better  fitted  to  effect  that  pur- 
pose was  never  given.  It  was  followed  ;  and  sin,  and  wretch- 
edness, and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth  spread  over  the 
camp  of  Israel.  He  had  his  reward.  He  was  consulted  as  a 
lawyer,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  fee  gave  this  hellish  counsel : — 
not  that  he  had  any  particular  spite  against  Israel,  but  he 
"loved  the  icages  of  unrighteousness."  Every  thing  else 
about  Balaam  looks  fiworable.  But  for  this  single  thing,  he 
might,  to  all  human  appearance,  have  been  saved.  He  was 
anxious  to  bo  rich,  and  was  not  particular  about  the  means 
which  he  used  to  obtain  his  wealth.  And  this  one  sin  per- 
sisted in,  ruined  him. 

What  ruined  Jeroboam  ?  In  the  division  of  Israel,  ten 
tribes  had  fallen  to  him.  But  Jerusalem  was  the  place  of 
worship  for  the  whole  nation,  and  that  was  not  in  his  domin- 
ions. If  the  people  went  up  there  to  worship,  they  might  kill 
him  and  return  to  Behoboam.  In  this  difiiculty  some  expedi- 
ent must  be  devised  to  keep  them  at  home.  And — "the  Lord 
pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing," — he  was  forced  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  the  case  to  set  up  calves  at  Bethel  and  at  Dan.  The 
Levites  who  were  suspected  of  adhering  to  the  line  of  David 
were  expelled,  and  with  them  all  religious  instruction  and  al- 
most all  religion.  Out  of  mere  good  policy,  he  made  Israel  to 
17 


194 


REV.    D.    MEIUIILL  S    SEllMONS. 


sin  and  his  own  salvation  hopeless.  It  was  not  that  he  had  any 
more  regard  for  idols  tlian  Naanian  had.  But  to  retain  his 
station,  he  must  bow  down  and  make  the  people  bow  down. 
He  had  not  learned  to  hope  against  hope,  and  to  risk  every 
thing  in  adhering  to  the  God  of  Israel.  To  establish  his  throne 
he  deserted  the  worship  of  God  and  cut  himself  off  from  tlie 
means  of  grace.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  carnal  policy,  his 
throne  might  have  been  established  in  righteousness.  But  he 
felt  safer  in  his  own  hands  than  in  the  hands  of  God.  He 
would  not  risk  any  thing  for  the  true  religion.  His  own  pur- 
poses and  the  religion  of  his  fathers  might  come  in  competition, 
and — "the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing" — religion 
must  give  place.  Shutting  the  door  of  hope  upon  himself,  he 
perished,  and  why  ?  Ambition  ruined  him.  He  was  deter- 
mined to  reign  at  all  hazards.  The  first  place  in  his  affections 
was  occupied. 

What  ruined  Herod  ?  He  had  sins  of  every  description  and 
every  enormity.  How  could  perseverance  in  one  sin  ruin 
him  V  He  persevered  in  every  sin  he  was  capable  of  commit- 
ting. True.  But  every  man  has  his  lucid  intervals.  "There 
is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  which,  taken  at  its  fiood,  loads  on 
to  fortune,"  seasons  of  peculiar  interest  in  their  lives,  and  the 
sin  which  ends  these  seasons  in  ordinary  cases  is  the  sin  which 
settles  their  destiny.  Herod  had  at  least  one  such  season, 
when  he  came  out  from  his  corrupt  course  and  stood  as  it  were 
looking  toward  heaven — between  a  world  of  iniquity  pressing 
hard  upon  him  behind  and  a  world  of  perdition  rising  up  to  re- 
ceive him  before.  I  say,  even  Herod  looked  unto  himself  and 
was  astonished,  and  trembled,  and  "  did  many  things,  and 
beard  John  gladly."  His  life  was  reformed,  and  hopes  were 
excited  that  even  Herod  mio-ht  be  saved.     And  had  it  not 


ONE    HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  195 

been  for  adherence  to  a  single  sin,  to  all  human  appearance 
John  might  have  baptized  him.  In  the  days  of  his  blindness 
and  unbridled  iniquity,  he  had  taken  his  brother  Philip's  wife. 
John  knew  that  a  partial  reformation  would  answer  no  good 
purpose,  and  told  him  with  the  frankness  of  a  man  of  God, 
"  it  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  thy  brother's  wife."  Herod 
had  already  gone  far,  but  ho  was  not  prepared  to  go  that  far. 
If  he  could  only  have  been  pardoned  in  that  thing  and  allowed 
to  retain  Herodias,  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty.  But 
it  could  not  be.  It  was  not  lawful.  And  all  his  other  refor- 
mation availed  nothing  with  God  while  he  lived  in  this  iniquity. 
The  declaration  of  John  came  home  to  his  feelings,  brought 
the  whole  matter  to  a  point.  The  sincerity  of  his  former  refor- 
mation, and  his  regard  to  God,  were  brought  to  the  test.  His 
enmity  was  enkindled.  He  commenced  a  quarrel  with  the 
truth,  which  ended  in  the  beheading  of  John  and  the  everlast- 
ing perdition  of  Herod.  Perseverance  in  a  single  sin  was  ap- 
parently the  cause  of  all.  But  for  this,  who  knows  but  Herod 
might  have  been  saved.  He  would  abstain  from  other  sins, 
and  hear  the  word  gladly,  and  do  many  other  things,  but  this 
he  would  not  give  up.  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this 
thing,"  he  said,  and  perished. 

Behold  that  young  man  coming  to  the  great  teacher  with  the 
interesting  inquiry,  "  What  good  thing  shall  I  do  that  I  may 
have  eternal  life  ?  "  In  his  conduct  and  appearance  there  is 
everything  to  excite  hope.  See  his  engaging  manners,  his 
amiable  disposition,  his  regard  for  the  law,  his  anxiety  to  ob- 
tain eternal  life.  Perhaps  human  nature  never  presented  a 
better  specimen ; — so  engaging  and  amiable  that  Jesus  loved 
him.  ' '  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  The  commandments  of  the  second 
table  are  mentioned.     "  All  these  things  have  I  kept  from  my 


196  RKv.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

youth  up."  Ignorant  of  the  spirituality  and  extent  of  the  law, 
he  no  doubt  spoke  this  in  sincerity,  not  as  boasting,  but  as 
"what  he  supposed  the  literal  truth.  It  was  saying  what  few 
could  say,  even  understanding  the  law  as  he  understood  it. 
"What  lack  I  yet?"  "Go  and  sell  that  thou  hast  and 
give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven." 
"The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  Anything 
else,  but  this  is  really  too  much.  This  amiable  young  man 
goes  away  sorrowful  from  him  who  has  the  words  of  eternal  life. 
He  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  o-o  that  lensith.     There  was 

CD  O 

no  other  difficulty  in  the  way, — if  he  could  only  have  been 
pardoned  in  this  thing.  But  it  could  not  be.  "  Whosoever 
he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  be 
my  disciple."  Eternal  life  was  set  up  for  sale.  He  knew 
somethino:  of  its  value  and  bid  hioh,  but  not  hio;h  enouMi.  He 
was  not  ready  to  sell  all  that  he  had  to  buy  this  pearl  of  great 
price.  Who  does  not  see  that  this  single  sin  ruined  him — as 
completely  excluded  him  from  heaven  as  though  he  had  been 
the  most  abandoned  wretch  that  ever  walked  the  earth  ? 

What  ruined  Judas  ?  He  had  no  particular  spite  against 
his  master,  nor  did  he  betray  him  just  for  the  sake  of  doing  an 
abominable  deed.  But  he  wanted  the  money.  He  was  covet- 
ous. This  single  sin  has  made  his  name  a  curse  upon  the 
earth,  and  clothed  him  with  everlasting  shame.  If  he  could 
only  have  been  pardoned  in  this  thing.  But  covetousnoss  is 
idolatry,  and  it  cannot  be. 

Who  has  not  road  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  and  their  awful 
death?  They  kept  back  part  of  the  price,  praying,  "The 
Lord  pardon  thy  servants  in  this  thing,"  and  perished  forever. 

Thus  facts  abundantly  prove  that  there  is  no  need  of  joining 
iniquity  to  iniquity,  but  that  a  single  sin  persisted  in  destroys 


ONE    HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  197 

the  soul.  Whoever  prays,  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in 
this  thing,"  deceives  himself  and  mocks  God.  God  recjuires 
the  whole  heart  and  respect  unto  all  his  commandments — a 
spirit  of  universal  obedience.  He  is  worthy  of  the  highest 
place  in  our  affections,  and  he  demands  it,  and  will  accept  no 
other.  If  we  are  not  ready  to  take  him  as  the  supreme  and 
only  portion  of  our  souls,  and  sacrifice  every  thing  to  him,  we 
have  no  part  with  him.  Naaman  might  have  been  saved,  but 
he  was  fearful.  He  had  not  yet  come  to  the  full  determination 
to  worship  Jehovah,  and  him  only,  in  all  situations  and  circum- 
stances, and  to  give  up  all  in  attachment  to  him.  He  wanted 
the  privilege  of  conforming  to  the  world — not  that  he  delighted 
in  their  conformity,  but  simply  to  save  himself  from  trouble. 
Are  there  not  descendants  of  Naaman  in  this  congregation — 
those  who,  by  adherence  to  a  single  sin,  are  likely  to  fail  of 
eternal  life?  Let  us  make  the  application,  and  then  judge  ye. 
God  has  said,  "  Remember  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy," 
— a  command  binding  at  home  and  abroad.  At  home  I  admit 
the  authority  of  the  command.  I  would  as  soon  steal  as  be 
engaged  in  any  secular  business  on  that  day.  But  when  I  am 
abroad  on  a  journey,  and  in  company  with  those  that  regard 
not  the  authority  of  God,  and  the  Sabbath  day  comes — "  The 
Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing  " — I  must  travel.  I 
shall  be  left  behind.  I  shall  be  laughed  at.  There  is  no  de- 
cent place  to  stay.  There  is  no  meeting  to  attend.  I  am 
anxious  to  get  home.  I  drive  on,  praying,  "  The  Lord  pardon 
thy  servant  in  this  thing,"  and  the  Sabbath  is  no  Sabbath  to 
mo.  I  do  not  hold  to  violating  the  Sabbath  any  more  than 
Naaman  to  worshiping  idols,  but  how  can  I  help  it  ?  When  I 
am  out  on  a  journey  and  my  company  all  violate  the  Sabbath, 
I  must  have  the  privilege  of  doing  so  too.  I  will  keep  the 
17* 


198  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

SaV)bath  holy  to  God  in  all  other  circumstances,  but  "  the  Lord 
pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  Now,  would  not  this  ex- 
ception destroy  the  whole  ? — a  determined  perseverance  in  this 
single  sin,  shut  the  gate  of  heaven  ?  Supposing  I  do  not  come 
forward  with  the  frankness  of  Naaman  and  make  this  exception 
in  the  very  articles  of  agreement,  but  give  myself  wholly  to  the 
Lord,  and  yet  take  the  privilege  and  determine  to  take  it.  Is 
this  making  the  matter  better  or  worse  ?  Am  I  not  in  this 
violating  my  own  solemn  obligations  as  well  as  the  command 
of  God  ?  Say  not,  this  is  a  small  matter.  It  may  exclude 
you  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  For  one  sin  persisted  in 
destroys  the  soul. 

Again,  God  has  said,  "Forsake  not  the  assembling  your- 
selves together."  At  some  peculiar  times  it  is  delightful  to 
obey  this  command.  When  a  multitude  are  "  with  one  accord 
in  one  place,"  I'll  be  there.  But  as  to  attending  any  place  of 
worship  regularly,  "The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this 
thing."  I  must  consult  my  own  convenience.  I  cannot  and 
I  will  not  be  bound  down  to  particular  rules.  The  impressions 
made  by  one  sermon  are  all  eradicated  long  before  another  is 
heard,  and  a  habit  of  ncMectino;  the  house  of  God  is  formed. 
Every  time  the  people  of  God  assemble  for  worship,  a  voice 
within  says,  Go  thou  with  them  and  stand  before  God,  and  hear 
the  words  of  eternal  life.  But  I  can't  go  to-day,  and  the  next 
time  it  is  the  same.  I  know  that  by  the  foolishness  of  preach- 
ing God  saves  those  that  believe, — that  faith  comes  by  hearing. 
And  I  will  do  every  thing  but  this  one  thing  upon  which,  to 
all  human  appearance,  my  salvation  depends.  Any  thing  else. 
But  "the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  Yet,  re- 
member that  one  sin  persisted  in  destroys  the  soul. 

Again,  I  know  that  every  house  should  be  a  house  of  i3rayer, 


ONE   HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  199 

having  its  altar  for  morning  and  evening  oblations.  God  has 
made  me  the  head  of  a  family,  and  I  hope  to  be  saved,  and 
hope  my  family  vrill  be  saved.  I  know  that  peculiar  obliga- 
tions rest  upon  me,  and  that,  situated  as  I  am,  I  cannot  be 
saved  or  perish  alone.  I  am  willing  to  do  many  things  for  my 
household,  to  instruct  them,  to  send  them  to  the  Sabbath 
School,  to  restrain  them  from  evil — to  encourage  them  in  every 
good  work.  "Will  not  all  this  suffice  ?  Must  I  also  pray  with 
them?  "The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  I 
have  no  time.  I  have  no  capacity.  I  am  ashamed  to  begin. 
I  would  willingly  redouble  my  efibrts  in  other  things,  but  this 
I  cannot  do.  I  know  it  is  my  duty,  and  I  do  not  feel  easy 
while  it  is  neglected.  I  have  lain  awake  many  a  night  thinking 
of  it,  and  if  I  had  only  had  ten  talents  instead  of  one,  I  should 
have  commenced  long  ago.  But  now  how  can  I  ?  Know  ye 
not  that  one  sin  persisted  in  destroys  the  soul  ?  It  is  useless 
to  say,  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing."  No 
excuse  will  be  allowed.  A  little  resolution,  a  determination  to 
serve  God  in  all  things  is  demanded.  If  you  have  not  resolu- 
tion enough  for  that,  you  have  not  resolution  enough  to  be 
saved.  The  fearful  and  faint-hearted  are  cast  out  with  the  un- 
believing. Diligence  in  other  things  will  not  excuse  neglect 
in  this. 

Again,  I  know  that  no  man  liveth  to  himself.  Every  man 
is  affected  and  influenced  by  the  conduct  of  his  fellow  men. 
Public  opinion  has  an  immense  force.  But  public  opinion  is 
nothing  more  than  the  opinion  of  a  great  many  individuals 
agreeing  in  the  same  thing,  and  the  more  numerous  tlie  com- 
pany the  greater  the  influence.  Public  opinion  is  forming 
against  some  particular  desolating  vices.  But  I  am  determined 
to  live  to  myself.     I  will  not  help  the  cause.     Why?     They 


200  KEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

strike  too  deep — attempt  to  effect  too  much.  The  cause  is 
good.  But  I  cannot  aid  it  without  making  a  sacrifice.  I  must 
give  up  some  things  that  I  consider  at  worst  innocent  and  some- 
times useful.  Though  I  wish  them  success — "  The  Lord  par- 
don thy  servant  in  this  thing  " — I  cannot  join  them.  The  re- 
sult is,  my  influence  all  goes  to  the  other  side — refusing  to  join 
the  good,  I  do  in  fact  join  the  evil.  And  I  am  quoted  in  de- 
fence of  tliat  which  almost  the  whole  body  of  the  pious  are 
united  in  an  attempt  to  put  down.  This  certainly  is  a  strange 
predicament  for  a  Christian,  and  even  for  an  honest  man.  It 
is  a  sin,  even  on  my  own  principles — a  sin  which  I  fear  will  go 
far  to  the  ruin  of  many  souls.  I  know  that  "  an  ounce  of  pre- 
vention is  better  than  a  pound  of  cure," — that  it  is  easier  to 
keep  ten  men  from  becoming  drunkards  than  to  reform  one. 
A  society  is  formed,  both  as  a  cure  and  a  preventive.  Will  I 
patronize  it  ?  No.  For  I  drinh  myself,  and  it  has  never  done 
me  any  hurt.  But  it  has  done  hurt  to  thousands  of  others,  and 
ought  I  not  to  assist  in  banishing  it?  No, — "  pardon  thy  ser- 
vant in  this  thing," — I  prefer  my  own  gratification  to  the  good 
of  my  fellow  men.  I  would  have  the  fashion  of  drinking  con- 
tinued, although  I  know  it  has  slain  its  ten  times  ten  thousand, 
that  it  has  clothed  the  earth  in  mourning  and  peopled  the  world 
of  woe,  and  has  not  a  single  redeeming  quality.  Is  not  this 
sin  ?  Can  a  man  stand  aside  and  say,  "  The  Lord  pardon  thy 
servant  in  this  thing,"  and  be  guiltless?  Men  may  plead  ig- 
norance. And  if  they  had  no  means  of  information,  the  plea 
might  stand.  But  those  who  deliberately  prefer  the  gratifica- 
tion of  an  appetite  to  the  welfare  of  their  fellow  men,  are  in  no 
way  to  be  saved. 

I  might  go  on  through  the  whole  round  of  sins  and  show 
that  the  man  who  deliberately  persists  in  any  one  cannot  be 


ONE    HABITUAL    SIN    RUINS    THE    SOUL.  201 

saved.  Ho  has  within  him  the  root  of  bitterness,  and  its  fruit 
must  be  gall  and  wormwood.  Take  heed,  then,  "  lest,  a  prom- 
ise being  left  you  of  entering  into  his  rest,  any  of  you  should 
seem  to  come  short  of  it."  "  For  if  ye  do  these  things  ye  shall 
never  fall,  for  so  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  unto  you 
abundantly  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Sa- 
vior Jesus  Christ."  But  if  you  use  your  inif|uity  to  escape 
from  the  duties  which  God  has  imposed  upon  you,  and  say, 
*'  The  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this  thing,"  how  can  you 
stand  ?  Liiquity  may  discover  a  thousand  reasons  for  omitting 
what  God  has  required,  and  doing  what  he  has  forbidden  ;  but 
will  these  reasons  stand  in  the  judgment  day  ? 


SERMON  XIY. 

THAXKSGIVIXG  SERMON,  1847. 

A  prudent  man  foreseeth  the  evil  and  hideth  himself:  but  the  simple  pass  on 
and  are  punished.    Proverbs  xxii.  3. 

"There  is  a  spirit  in  man;  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty giveth  him  understanding."  His  prosperity  and  enjoy- 
ment in  this  life,  and  forever,  depend  upon  the  use  made  of 
this  spirit  and  understanding.  He  is  made  wiser  than  the 
beasts  of  the  field  and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  a  nobler  destiny 
awaits  him,  if  he  use  properly  that  higher  wisdom.  But  if  he 
suffers  it  to  remain  inactive,  and  judges  merely  by  the  sight  of 
his  eyes,  and  the  hearing  of  his  ears,  he  fails  of  all  the  great 
purposes  of  life,  and  makes  a  wreck  of  himself  and  of  his  dear- 
est interests.  On  the  contrary,  using  properly  the  wisdom  he 
has,  insures  its  increase  as  the  exigency  demands.  Though 
without  prophetic  power,  or  infallibility,  he  is  able  to  anticipate 
events — to  foresee  what  will  be,  from  what  in  similar  circum- 
stances has  been ;  for  man  is  the  same,  the  laws  of  nature 
change  not,  the  same  God  governs  by  the  same  principles,  and 
the  same  causes  produce  the  same  results.  Hence,  he  does 
not  suffer  events  to  come  upon  him  unawares,  and  so  unpro- 
vided for.  Thus,  a  prudent  man,  by  knowledge  of  cause  and 
effect,  foresees  the  evil  in  season  to  make  arrangements  to  meet 
or  escape  it.  Knowing  by  tokens  almost  infallible,  he  has  all 
the  advantages  of  certain  knowledge.  The  coming  storm, 
though  no  visible  signs  of  it  appear,  warns  him  to  seek  shelter, 
and  he  is  safely  sheltered  when  it  comes. 


THANKSGIVIVING   SERMON.  203 

But  tbe  simple  pass  on  in  security.  "  To-morrow  shall  be 
as  this  day,  and  much  more  abundant."  They  never  think  of 
a  storm  till  it  bursts  upon  them  in  all  its  fury.  Feeling  the 
pressure  of  no  evil,  they  anticipate  none ;  and,  prospering  for 
a  season,  they  think  they  shall  always  prosper  in  the  same  way. 
The  latent  causes  working  evil  they  never  seek  after,  and  so 
never  find;  and  they  never  inquire  what  will  be  the  end. 
They  are  utterly  astonished,  as  they  are  entirely  unprepared 
when  the  evil  comes.  There  is  a  true  saying,  and  an  impor- 
tant one,  though  it  come  from  no  very  creditable  source,  and 
was  used  at  first  in  no  very  creditable  way.  It  is,  "  The  bet- 
ter part  of  valor  is  discretion,"  or,  as  the  wise  man  has  it, 
"  Wisdom  is  better  than  strength,"  and  "  better  than  weapons 
of  war."  "But  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  punished,"  for 
they  make  no  proper  use  of  their  understanding,  and  exercise 
no  discretion. 

The  sentiment  of  the  text  is  so  important,  that  it  is  repeated 
word  for  word  in  the  twelfth  verse  of  the  twenty-seventh  chap- 
ter of  this  book  of  Proverbs, — repeated  to  make  a  deeper  im- 
pression of  the  absolute  necessity  of  prudence  and  discretion. 
These,  more  than  any  thing  else, — more  than  all  things  else, — 
ensure  prosperity  and  safety.  Now,  a  man  may  be  prudent 
and  discreet  in  one  thing  and  not  in  another  ;  and  he  succeeds, 
or  is  safe,  or  hides  himself,  only  in  that  in  which  he  is  prudent. 
He  may  be  prudent  in  the  management  of  his  worldly  affairs, 
and  prosper  in  them  accordingly,  and  yet  have  no  prudence 
or  discretion  with  regard  to  his  eternal  interests.  He  may  be 
prudent  in  the  affairs  of  others,  and  yet  have  no  discretion 
about  his  own.  This  is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  case,  for 
human  nature  runs  in  streaks.  He  is  not  universally  prudent, 
who  is  prudent  in  some  particular  thing  only ;  nor  is  he  uni- 


20-1  REV.    D. 

versally  and  wholly  simple,  who  is  simple  only  in  some  particu- 
lar thing.  Man  is  safe  only  in  regard  to  those  things  in  which 
he  is  prudent,  since  he  docs  not  liide  himself  from  those  evils 
which  he  has  no  prudence  and  discretion  to  foresee.  No  pru- 
dence but  that  which  covers  the  whole  ground  of  experience — 
a  prudence  to  foresee  and  guard  against  all  threatening  evil — 
will  avail  universally.  A  limited  prudence  can  never  meet 
the  necessity  of  an  unlimited  experience.  It  only  guards  that 
point  which  it  is  set  to  guard.  He  who  is  discreet  in  the  man- 
agement of  his  worldly  affairs  will  prosper  in  them.  If  he  fail 
to  prosper  there  is  a  screw  loose  somewhere,  and,  commonly, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  tell  where.  K.i  any  rate,  the  shrewd  ones 
soon  discover  it  and  take  advantage  of  it.  As  he  who  prospers 
in  worldly  things,  because  he  gives  his  mind  to  them,  and  has 
prudence  to  direct  to  the  appropriate  means,  may  be  the  sim- 
plest of  all  simple  ones  in  regard  to  heavenly  things,  with  no 
prudence  to  foresee  evil  or  good^  and  no  discretion  to  avoid  the 
one  or  secure  the  other ;  so  he  who  has  prudence  to  lay  up 
treasures  in  heaven,  may  be  far  from  wise  in  the  management 
of  his  worldly  affairs,  and  as  far  from  success  in  their  manage- 
ment. He  avoids  the  evil  and  secures  the  good  which  his  pru- 
dence foresees,  and  perhaps  that  is  all  he  cares  about,  or  feels 
any  great  interest  in.  The  evils  of  poverty  and  privation  he 
takes  no  pains  to  foresee  or  hide  himself  from.  Perhaps  he 
hopes  to  escape  them  without  using  the  appropriate  means — a 
hope  which  of  course  ends  in  disappointment.  He  fails  where 
he  is  not  prudent,  but  does  not  where  he  is.  He  has  treasures 
in  heaven,  though  none  on  earth.  The  great  object  of  life  is 
secured,  but  he  fails  of  the  minor  objects  which  shrink  into  in- 
significance in  comparison  with  that ;  yet  in  themselves  they 
are  not  insignificant.     He  suffers  loss,  even  though  he  is  saved. 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  205 

and  he  suffers  it  from  want  of  prudence  to  foresee  the  evils  of 
life,  and  so  guard  himself  against  them.  He  suffers  privation 
and  poverty,  ^hich  with  prudence  might  have  been  avoided. 
He  suffers  loss,  from  want  of  power  to  help  others.  He  suffers 
loss,  from  being  a  receiver  rather  than  a  giver — the  loss  of  that 
greater  blessedness  which  comes  upon  the  giver  more  than  up- 
on the  receiver.  He  "  hideth  himself,"  that  is,  is  safe  or 
prosperous  only  in  that  in  which  he  is  prudent. 

I  wish  to  make  an  application  of  the  text  not  usual  in  ordi- 
nary Sabbath  discourses — an  application,  however,  properly 
within  the  scope  and  meaning  of  the  text.  I  speak  of  pru- 
dence in  the  management  of  worldly  affairs.  And  I  know  no 
reason  why  the  subject  should  need  an  apology,  unless  it  be 
that  it  is  one  which  men  of  my  vocation  are  not  supposed  to 
knovr  much  about.  Whether  this  supposition  be  true,  or  if 
true,  any  credit  to  the  ministry,  I  leave  others  to  judge.  The 
manner  of  treating  it  may  perhaps  demand  an  apology.  We 
are  capable  of  various  emotions.  There  is  a  time  for  every 
thing,  and  every  thing  is  beautiful  in  its  season ;  hence  the 
gravity  that  becomes  the  Sabbath  may  not  be  requisite  on  such 
an  occasion  as  this.  My  apology  for  the  mode  of  treating  the 
subject,  is  found  in  the  occasion.  It  is  thanksgiving  day,  not 
Sunday. 

I  hardly  need  say  tliat  every  man  requires  the  comforts  of 
life,  and  that  in  all  ordinary  cases  they  are  to  be  had ;  and 
that  the  best  state  of  society  is  where  all  have  them,  and  are 
upon  a  kind  of  equality.  A  perfect  equality  is  past  hoping 
for.  But  something  nearer  equality  than  master  and  slave,  or 
lord  and  serf,  or  even  landlord  and  tenant,  is  exceedingly  de- 
sirable.    The  best  state  of  society  is  where  every  man  is  in  a 

condition  to  show  himself  a  man — where  the  earth  is  cut  up  in 
18 


206  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

small  divisions,  and  each  man  has  a  house  of  his  own.  The  laws 
of  every  community  should  favor  this ;  and  our  laws  do.  But 
to  favor  it,  is  the  extent  of  their  capacity.  No  law  can  force 
it,  or  maintain  it,  in  any  other  way  than  by  putting  every  man, 
as  for  as  possible,  in  a  condition  to  take  care  of  himself.  And 
it  can  do  this  in  no  other  way  than  by  removing  obstructions, 
and  giving  him  a  clear  field.  Then,  under  God,  all  depends 
upon  himself — to  sink  or  swim. 

Where  all  are  removed  from  a  state  of  poverty,  there  can  be 
no  very  great  concentration  of  wealth.  But  it  is  the  desire  and 
hope  of  every  one  to  escape  the  evils  of  destitution  and  depend- 
ence— to  have  something  that  he  can  call  his  own.  Having  it, 
he  is  more  of  a  man  among  men,  for  it.  The  possession  has 
an  influence  upon  his  own  spirit — removes  slavish  and  shrink- 
ing feelings,  and  enables  him  to  show  out  what  he  is  in  a  way 
that,  oppressed  with  poverty,  he  could  never  have  the  face  to 
do.  You  have  perhaps  heard  of  the  English  preacher  who  was 
accustomed  to  borrow  a  guinea  every  Saturday  night,  and  re- 
turn it  Monday  morning,  on  the  ground  that  he  could  face  his 
congregation  better  with  money  in  his  pocket.  There  are 
some  preachers  who  would  not  be  relieved  by  any  such  process ; 
for  they  would  be  haunted  continually  by  the  reflection,  "  Alas, 
Master  !  for  it  vras  borrowed."  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  a 
man  is  better  treated  and  more  highly  respected  for  being  the 
owner  of  property ;  and  that  the  world  is  mercejiary,  and 
knows  no  worth  but  money,  and  no  value  but  cash  value. 
This  may  be  true,  but  it  is  not  all.  He  is  more  of  a  man  for 
it,  and  is  able  to  show  qualities  of  head  and  heart  deserving  of 
respect,  that  would  otherwise  be  concealed.  A  man  able  to 
take  care  of  himself  is  respected,  because,  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  that  ability,  he  respects  himself.     Standing  upon  an 


TUANKSGIVIVIXG    SERMON.  207 

even  footing  with  bis  fellow  men,  there  is  no  shrinking  in  their 
presence — no  abject  feeling  of  dependence  upon  them.  But  it 
is  exceedingly  difl&cult  for  a  man  who  doubts  this  ability,  to 
maintain  self-respect.  He  is  either  servile,  to  show  his  submis- 
sion to  his  fate  ;'  or  is  saucy,  to  show  his  independence ;  and 
neither  of  these  are  qualities  that  deserve  or  secure  respect. 

As  every  one  desires  something  that  he  can  call  his  own,  so 
there  is  nothing  necessarily  wrong  in  this  desire.  It  may  be 
extreme,  and  out  of  proportion  with  matters  of  infinitely  greater 
moment ;  it  may  seek  gratification  by  unrighteous  means ;  or 
it  may  occupy  the  whole  mind  and  soul,  as  if  this  were  the 
whole  business  of  life.  Then  it  is  wrong ;  but  it  is  not  neces- 
sarily so  in  itself.  Not  long  since  I  heard  of  a  man  who  had 
come  to  the  agreeable  temperament  of  limiting  his  desires  to 
his  possessions.  He  had  been  a  minister,  and  forsaken  his 
calling,  having  discovered  a  more  excellent  way — one  of  the 
thousand  and  one  ways  open  in  these  last  times  for  reforming 
the  world.  On  a  visit  at  the  house  of  an  old  acquaintance,  he 
remarked  that  he  had  not  any  property,  and  that  he  did  not 
want  any.  "  And  yet,"  said  the  mistress  qf  the  family,  "  he 
liked  a  good  dinner  as  well  as  any  body  I  have  seen  lately ; 
and  if  we  had  been  like  him,  he  could  not  have  got  it.  "Why 
is  it  not  his  business  to  collect  the  materials  for  it  as  well  as 
ours?"  And  sure  enough,  why?  Were  all  like  him,  the 
earth  would  be  a  desert,  and  its  inhabitants,  if  inhabitants  there 
could  be,  would  want  all  things.  Every  sane  man  desires 
something  that  he  can  call  his  own,  and  he  may  have  it,  and  it 
is  the  interest  of  all  that  he  should  have  it.  There  is  room 
for  all,  and  enough  for  all,  and  a  source  from  which  industry 
and  prudence  may  increase  the  comforts  of  life  a  thousand  fold. 
But  man  docs  not  have  them,  or  having,  keep  them,  as  a  mat- 


208  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

ter  of  course.  Ho  does  this  only  by  using  appropriate  means. 
These  means  prudent  forecast  will  discover  far  more  readily 
than  I  can  find  language  to  describe.  They  are  not  such  as 
imply  either  meanness  or  dishonesty. 

The  business  of  the  world  as  a  whole  is  exceedingly  compli- 
cated, and  every  man's  business  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
that  of  others.  He  cannot  buy  or  sell,  pay  or  receive  a  dollar 
without  connecting  himself  with  others.  Yet,  complicated  as 
business  is,  there  is  method  in  this  seeming  madness;  and, 
though  the  whole  method  may  be  beyond  the  reach  of  any  one 
but  a  Rothschild,  who  makes  the  method,  or  controls  it,  every 
one  may  understand  it  sufficiently  for  his  own  purposes.  It  is 
the  first  dictate  of  prudence  that  every  one  should  thus  under- 
stand it. 

Every  man  who  desires  to  secure  the  comforts  of  life  seeks 
a  profitable  business.  But  what  is  profitable  at  one  time,  is 
not  necessarily  so  at  another.  There  is  no  prudence,  then,  in 
always  pursuing  the  same  business  in  the  same  way.  He  must 
vary  to  suit  times,  and  seasons,  and  circumstances ;  and  he 
must  prudently  anticipate  them,  to  some  extent,  or  he  is  ruined 
before  he  is  aware  of  danger.  Just  going  on  with  his  business, 
as  he  has  done,  and  selling  at  the  same  prices,  or  holding  on 
till  he  can,  is  the  open  road  to  ruin.  Scarcely  any  thing  but 
a  miracle  can  prevent  it.  Illustrations  of  this  are  abundant. 
Within  twenty  years  the  price  of  almost  all  manufactured  arti- 
cles has  fallen  from  one-half  to  three-fourths.  No  man  can  af- 
ford to  make  them  now  as  he  did  then,  simply  because  he  can- 
not sell  them  now  as  then.  Occupations  Ihat  were  then  profit- 
able, are  now  given  up.  The  individual  cannot  compete  with 
the  corporation,  nor  mere  bodily  labor  with  machinery.  He 
must  do  his  business  in  another  way,  or,  if  he  cannot  adopt  im- 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  209 

provements,  he  must  turn  to  somo  other  employment.  These 
changes  have  not  been  effected  at  once.  Coming  events  cast 
their  shadows  before.  The  prudent  saw  in  these  shadows  the 
coming  events,  and  made  arrangements  accordingly,  while  the 
simple  passed  on  at  their  old  labor,  in  the  old  way,  till  poverty 
come  upon  him  like  an  armed  man  in  the  shape  of  a  sheriff  or 
constable.  The  man  has  worked  as  hard  as  ever,  perhaps 
harder,  to  bear  up  against  the  new  state  of  things,  but  he  might 
as  well  bear  up  against  a  railcar  or  an  avalanche.  He  has  not 
failed  for  want  of  industry  or  economy,  but  for  want  of  pru- 
dence ',  and  in  his  case,  these  without  prudence  are  but  a  drop 
in  the  bucket.  His  object  was  to  do  a  living  business — not 
greedy,  or  making  haste  to  be  rich — and  his  sign  stands  like 
the  solitary  tavern  sign  on  some  hilly  road,  when  a  new,  smooth 
and  level  path  has  taken  the  travel  all  another  way.  The  figure 
on  his  sign  should  be,  *'  Patience  on  a  monument  smiling  at 
grief." 

A  man  seeks  a  profitable  business,  and  almost  every  man 
can  decide  what  is  profitable  at  present.  Then  there  must  be 
prudent  forecast  to  anticipate  events,  as  much  as  in  man  lies, 
in  order  to  justify  the  outlay  in  setting  up  his  business.  A 
good  mill  seat  does  not  justify  the  building  a  mill,  when  the 
business  of  grinding  or  sawing  is  already  overdone.  If  the 
mill  has  nothing  to  do,  it  might  as  well  be  on  the  top  of  a  hill 
as  on  the  finest  stream.  A  man  seeks  a  pi'ofitahle  business, 
or  as  the  phrase  is,  to  make  money.  Figuratively,  every  man 
is  said  to  make  money,  who  makes  or  does  that  which  will  bring 
money.  Men  make  money  by  working  in  metals,  or  leather, 
or  wood,  or  by  the  productions  of  the  earth,  by  the  labor  of 
the  hands,  or  the  labor  of  the  brains.  He  who  attempts  to 
make  money  directly  is  a  counterfeiter ;  but  he  who  makes  it 
18*- 


210 

by  these  indirect  methods  makes  it  legitimately,  by  increasing 
the  comforts  of  life — benefitting  others  by  benefitting  himself. 
His  own  gain  is  in  proportion  to  the  price  beyond  the  actual  cost 
to  himself.  Of  course,  mere  labor  on  his  part  is  not  sufl5cient. 
That  which  has  no  intelligence  can,  to  some  extent,  perform  the 
labor.  But  something  more  is  required  and  justly  expected  of 
him.  His  labor  must  be  applied  to  those  things  that  suit  the 
market,  and  whose  market  prices  give  him  an  equitable  return. 

But  then,  the  market  price  is  fluctuating.  Prices  change 
with  plenty  or  scarcity  of  the  article,  and  with  plenty  or  scarcity 
of  money.  What  is  a  good  business  this  year,  is  an  indifferent 
one,  or  a  losing  concern,  next.  But  the  first  inquiry  should 
be,  to  know  the  market  price ;  and  this  in  all  ordinary  cases  is 
the  fiiir  price.  "  A  thing  is  worth  what  it  will  fetch,"  but  no 
man  has  a  right  to  falsify  or  present  the  thing  as  it  is  not,  to 
make  it  fetch,  i.  e.  sell  for  more.  No  body  of  men  have  a 
right  to  combine  to  raise  or  depress  prices,  that  they  may  sell 
dearer  or  buy  cheaper.  The  value  of  a  thing  is  according  to 
the  demand  for  it.  A  man  may  show  kindness  and  liberality 
by  selling  for  less  than  he  could  get,  and  in  some  cases  is  un- 
der the  strongest  obligations  to  show  that  kindness  and  liber- 
ality. But  these  are  required  by  no  law  except  the  law  of 
kindness.  He  may  fulfil  them  or  not,  as  he  shall  answer  to 
God.  The  market  price  is  the  fair  price ;  and  this,  with  the 
reservations  already  stated,  is  what  it  will  sell  for. 

You  have  articles  to  sell,  and  an  offer  for  them  several  per 
cent,  below  the  market  price ;  and  knowing  nothing  of  that 
price,  you  deem  it  a  good  bargain,  and  accept  the  offer.  It  is 
more  than  you  expected,  and  more  than  the  cost  to  you.  You 
have  come  over  him  this  time.  By  and  by  you  learn  that  your 
neighbor  has  got  the  market  price  for  the  same  kind  of  articles 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  211 

— several  per  cent,  more  than  you — and  the  purchaser  whom 
you  thought  you  had  come  over,  you  now  abuse  as  a  cheat. 
He  has  taken  advantage  of  your  ignorance — he  ought  to  have 
told  you.  But  what  right  had  you  to  be  ignorant  in  a  matter 
that-  you  deem  so  important?  You  might  have  taken  a  news- 
paper and  known  the  market  price  as  well  as  your  neighbor ; 
and  thus  have  saved  the  price  of  a  dozen  newspapers.  Wheth- 
er the  purchaser  be  justified  or  not,  you  have  no  ground  of 
complaint.  You  have  suffered  loss  through  want  of  informa- 
tion, when  the  information  was  perfectly  within  reach.  You 
have  saved  the  price  of  a  newspaper  at  the  expense  of  ten  times 
its  cost ;  and  what  is  more  wonderful  still,  you  will  perhaps  do 
the  very  same  thing  again. 

But  the  market  price, — what  makes  that?  The  demand. 
Upon  what  is  the  demand  founded  ?  Upon  a  real  or  supposed 
scarcity.  The  demand  in  foreign  markets  increases  the  price 
in  our  own.  The  famine  and  starvation  in  Europe  has  in- 
creased the  price  of  provisions  in  this  country  by  millions  be- 
yond what  it  otherwise  would  have  been.  And  not  only  has 
it  increased  the  price,  but  it  has  given  a  spur  to  production 
which  must  ultimately  diminish  the  price,  even  though  the 
same  demand  should  continue.  For  to  have  the  same  price 
with  the  increased  production,  there  must  be  a  corresponding 
increased  demand.  Is  it  so?  Is  there  any  prospect  of  it? 
If  not,  the  price  of  every  thing  of  provision  kind  must  come 
down  ;  and  the  question,  "  Is  there  a  prospect  of  increased  de- 
mand in  foreign  countries  for  provisions  from  this  country  ?  " 
interests  every  man  who  has  provisions  to  sell  or  buy.  Pru- 
dence directs  that  the  answer  to  this  question  should  in  some 
way  be  taken  into  the  calculation.  Through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land,  more  provision  has  been  raised  this  year 


212  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

than  in  any  preceding,  stimulated  by  the  extraordinary  demand 
and  price  of  last.  Now,  if  there  is  only  the  same  demand,  it 
must  be  cheaper,  as  there  is  more  of  it.  If  the  demand  be 
less,  it  must  be  cheaper  still.  Every  man  is  interested  to  ex- 
amine the  premises,  form  some  kind  of  judgment  of  his  own, 
and  make  his  arrangements  accordingly. 

But  there  are  other  things  in  this  connection,  deserving  of 
consideration.  The  scarcity  abroad  has  sent  their  specie  here 
by  millions  to  purchase  it.  And  it  has  also  sent  something 
else  which  is  not  specie,  and,  as  it  seems,  not  capable  of  being 
converted  into  it.  It  has  sent  drafts  by  millions,  or  bills  of 
credit,  drawn  by  those  who  have  nothing  to  meet  them  on  their 
return — those  who  were  ruined  by  overtrading,  or  having  noth- 
ing, lived  upon  mere  credit.  The  bills  drawn  upon  them  are 
returned  protested,  and  failure  there  prepares  the  way  for  fail- 
ure here.  Merchants  who  almost  controlled  the  market  of  the 
world,  are  bankrupt ;  and  so  many  of  these  are  there  as  to  ex- 
cite an  almost  universal  panic.  And  with  the  panic  there  is  a 
prospect  of  a  deeper,  wider  ruin.  The  extreme  of  suspicion 
naturally  follows  the  extreme  of  confidence, — business  overdone 
sinks  for  a  time  beneath  its  proper  level.  Now,  with  confi- 
dence shaken  and  business  depressed,  how  can  prices  be  kept 
up  ?  especially  when  the  test  at  home  becomes  as  severe  as  it  is 
beginning  to  be  abroad.  The  specie  brought  in  by  an  un- 
natural state  of  things,  is  already  commencing  its  return  to  for- 
eign countries  ;  while  millions  of  it  are  going  to  what  may  or 
may  not  be  a  foreign  country,  as  the  case  may  be.*  But  for- 
eign or  not,  it  is  no  more  likely  to  return  to  meet  every  imme- 
diate exigency,  than  that  which  has  crossed  the  ocean.     With 

*  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  war  between  the  United  States  and  Mex. 
ico  was  in  progress  when  this  sermon  was  delivered.  T.  S.  P. 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  213 

this  constant  drain  of  specie,  what  is  there  to  keep  up  prices  ? 
The  remains  of  the  last  year's  excitement,  the  excitement  and 
expenses  of  the  war,  and  bank  issues.  The  credit  of  the  gov- 
ernment, as  a  safe  debtor,  is  thrown  in  in  various  ways  to  pre- 
vent an  immediate  crash — of  course  anxious  that  the  ruin 
should  not  come  under  this  administration.  The  extraordinary 
expenses  of  government  give  activity  to  business ;  but  these 
extraordinary  expenses  are  merely  the  extraordinary  flood  of 
water  from  draining  a  pond ;  or  the  extravagant  expenses  of 
a  spendthrift  heir,  that  gives  a  spur  to  the  whole  neighborhood. 
Bank  issues  are  large,  almost  beyond  precedent,  and  of  course 
money  plenty.  No  man  wants  it  to  lie  idle  on  his  hands,  and 
it  circulates  freely.  With  a  free  circulation  of  money,  business 
is  brisk  and  flourishing — every  thing  brings  money. 

As  to  the  amount  of  bank  issues,  every  one  can  form  an 
opinion  for  himself.  The  privilege  of  guessing  is  guaranteed 
to  a  yankee,  by  common  law  if  not  by  statute ;  and  I  guess 
there  is  more  bank  paper  circulating  in  these  United  States, 
than  there  is  specie  in  the  whole  world.  But  if  all  other  things 
were  favorable,  there  would  not  necessarily  be  any  breaking  of 
banks  on  that  account.  A  bank  is  not,  and  is  not  designed  to 
be,  a  pond,  to  which  a  whole  community  may  rush  and  get 
water  at  once ;  but  a  spring,  to  meet  the  ordinary  wants  of  in- 
dividuals or  families.  Be  patient — there  is  water  enough. 
Enough  for  what  ?  Enough  for  the  whole  community  demand- 
ing a  pailful  this  instant  ?  A  spring  was  not  designed  to  meet 
any  such  case.  No  business  man  can  at  once  meet  all  the  de- 
mands against  him,  and  no  bank  can  at  once  meet  all  its  bills 
with  specie.  It  is  not  expected  or  required  that  they  should 
keep  on  hand  specie  equal  to  their  issues.  It  is  enough  to 
meet  every  demand  as  it  comes ;  and  this,  like  the  spring. 


214 

gives  assurance  that  all  other  demands  can  be  met  in  the  same 
way.  If  a  rush  is  made  upon  them,  they  can  only  pay  as  they 
collect.  As  they  collect,  the  circulation  diminishes;  the  value 
of  money  is  increased  by  its  scarcity,  and  this  will  have  the 
efFoct  to  diminish  the  price  of  every  thing  else.  Now,  is  there 
any  prospect  of  this  ?  It  is  a  matter  for  prudence  to  foresee 
and  prepare  for. 

Will  the  banks  dare  to  keep  up  the  present  circulation  ?  It 
is  of  course  for  their  interest  to  give  out  and  keep  out  all  the 
bills  they  safely  can.  But  to  do  business  long  at  all  they  must 
keep  their  own  credit ;  and  any  issue  of  paper  or  delay  of  col- 
lection which  endangers  that,  prudent  men  will  not  risk.  Both 
tJicir  own  interest  and  the  interest  of  every  one  who  has  a  dol- 
lar of  their  money,  demand  this  as  a  first  point,  that  they 
should  not  risk  it.  To  delay  collection  when  that  delay  endan- 
gers their  credit,  is  to  favor  their  debtors  at  the  expense  of 
community — a  favor  which  they  have  no  right  to  show.  Their 
credit  depends  upon  their  ability  to  meet  their  issues  ;  and  that 
ability  depends  upon  the  solvency  of  merchants  and  traders, 
the  success  of  trade  at  home  and  abroad,  and  more  than  all 
now,  perhaps,  upon  the  continuance  of  the  extraordinary  ex- 
penses of  government.  But  trade  has  already  met  a  check 
abroad,  and  that  has  had  and  must  have  still  more  influence  at 
home.  Bankrupt  merchants  abroad  make  bankrupt  merchants 
at  home.  The  time  seems  at  hand  when  the  ability  to  keep  up 
present  circulation  must  depend  simply  upon  the  extraordinary 
expenses  of  government.  Nor  will  these  extraordinary  ex- 
penses long  be  a  safe  dependence,  with  trade  depressed  and 
merchants  bankrupt.  "When  these  extraordinary  expenses  are 
reduced  to  the  ordinary  standard,  there  must  be  a  crash,  and 
should  they  continue  long,  a  crash  before  that.     The  banks 


THANKSGIVING   SERMON.  215 

whose  so  free  issue  makes  money  so  plenty,  and  prices  so  high, 
and  business  so  flourishing,  will  be  obliged  to  diminish  their 
circulation  and  call  in  their  debts.  Demands  will  be  made 
upon  them  which  they  can  meet  only  by  demands  upon  their 
debtors.  Every  dollar  they  collect  diminishes  the  circulation, 
increases  the  value  of  money,  and  diminishes  the  price  of  every 
thing  else. 

And  the  price  will  be  diminished  in  other  ways.  The  bank 
debtors  have  property  enough  at  present  prices  to  meet  their 
liabilities  three  or  four  times  over.  At  least,  this  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed, as  corporations  have  usually  pretty  shrewd  intellects, 
even  though  they  have  not  much  soul,  and  take  special  pains 
to  secure  themselves,  as  their  own  interest  and  that  of  commu- 
nity demand  they  should  do.  But  their  security,  directly  or 
indirectly,  is  property.  The  demand  upon  them  is  money, 
and  to  meet  that  demand  this  property  must  be  converted  into 
money.  Farms,  and  produce,  and  merchandize,  won't  pay  the 
debts,  and  they  can't  take  them.  They  must  be  exchanged 
for  money  at  sheriff's  sale.  And  so  much  brought  into  mar- 
ket at  once,  must  reduce  the  price  of  every  thing  of  the  kind. 

Now,  this  is  supposing  the  very  best — that  banks  meet  their 
liabilities  and  pay  dollar  for  dollar  on  demand.  But  all  expe- 
rience shows  that  this  is  supposing  too  much.  Can  they  all 
make  calculations  so  as  to  meet  the  demands  upon  them  ?  May 
not  some  have  put  their  money  away  where  they  can't  get  it 
again  ;  and  so  be  obliged  to  stop,  and  their  bills  cease  to  circu- 
late, or  circulate  at  a  hap-hazard  discount,  thus  opening  the 
way  for  all  kinds  of  shaving  and  speculation  ?  The  country  is 
not  without  experience  upon  this  subject.  What  has  been, 
may  be.  It  is  the  interest  of  bank  debtors  that  banks  should 
break,  as  they  can  pay  their  debts,  in  this  depreciated  paper. 


216  RET.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

It  is  the  interest  of  a  few  others — loafers,  who  sit  loose  upon 
society,  and  live  upon  contingencies.  But  it  is  a  terrible  ca- 
lamity to  the  community — a  calamity  which  honest  and  honor- 
able men  are  bound  by  all  possible  means  to  prevent.  And 
this  in  many  cases  has  been  prevented  by  the  personal  pledges 
of  corporators  of  known  wealth  and  character,  beyond  their 
legal  liabilities.  But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  The 
signs  of  the  times  certainly  foreshow  broken  banks  and  depre- 
ciated paper.*  It  cannot  be  delayed  beyond  the  close  of  the 
war.  It  may  and  most  likely  will  come  much  sooner,  especially 
if  that  should  be  continued  for  years  to  come,  as  the  prospect 
now  is.  When  this  time  comes,  specie  will  first  of  all  be  at  a 
premium — to  use  a  cant  phrase  of  the  bankers — which  means, 
as  I  take  it,  that  while  bank  bills  are  as  good  as  specie,  specie 
is  several  per  cent,  better  than  bank  bills.  It  is  a  very  poor 
and  thin  attempt  at  deception,  for  every  one  knows,  or  ought 
to  know,  that  specie  is  the  standard,  and  there  is  no  premium 
about  it.  When  specie  is  said  to  be  at  a  premium,  it  is  only 
an  attempt  to  disguise  the  fact  that  the  bills  are  at  a  discount ; 
and  the  fact  will  very  soon  be  ascertained.  Commencing  the 
downward  progress,  where  will  they  find  a  stopping-place  i 
From  the  amount  of  specie  taken  over  the  waters  and  to  Mexi- 
co, what  remains  must  soon  be  at  a  premium,  and  then — 

But  why  wait  till  then  ?  The  prudent  man  foreseeth  the 
evil  and  hideth  himself,  but  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  pun- 
ished.'' Believing  that  money  will  always  be  as  plenty  as 
now,  and  the  same  high  prices  continue,  the  simple  pass  on. 

This  is  not  a  matter  of  mere  speculation.  It  has  practic-al 
bearings  which  interest  every  man,  and  for  practical  purposes 

*  Of  course  the  author  could  not  foresee  the  di.-covery  of  gold  in  California, 
and  the  vast  influx  of  specie  thereupon  consequent.  T.  S.  P. 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON. 


217 


tho  subject  is  now  presented.     Let  us  attend  to  about  three  of 
these,  which  will  be  sufScient  for  the  present  occasion. 

1.  It  IS  A  GOOD  TIME  TO  PAY  DEBTS.  Busincss  is  flour- 
ishing, money  plenty,  prices  high.  It  is  a  royal  time  to  pay 
debts.  "When  will  there,  when  can  there  be  a  better  ?  When 
can  they  be  paid  more  readily  or  easily  than  in  these  good 
times  ?  You  intend  to  pay  them,  no  doubt,  and  even  if  you  do 
not,  your  creditors  mean  you  shall.  But  they  will  not  be 
guilty  of  so  great  an  oversight  as  to  enforce  payment  now,  if 
they  feel  that  the  debt  is  secure,  unless  the  money  be  wanted 
for  immediate  use  in  their  business.  But  when  times  have 
changed,  and  money  is  scarce,  and  every  kind  of  property  is 
reduced  in  price, — ^just  when  it  is  of  the  most  benefit  to 
them,  and  of  course  the  greatest  sacrifice  to  you — then  they 
want  it,  and  must  have  it.  Will  you  wait  till  then?  Will 
you  suffer  the  prudent  to  take  advantage  of  your  simplicity, 
and  not  rather  with  the  same  prudence  meet  them  on  equal 
ground  ?  It  is  your  prudence  to  pay  dollars  when  you  can  get 
dollars  the  easiest — when  every  kind  of  property  will  command 
them ;  just  as  it  would  be  your  prudence,  if  you  owed  grain, 
to  pay  when  you  could  get  grain  the  easiest,  and  not  wait  till 
it  has  become  of  double  price.  It  is  a  good  time  to  pay  debts, 
and  the  prudent  will  take  advantage  of  it.  "  There  is  a  tide 
in  the  affairs  of  men,"  and  it  is  high  tide  now.  Let  no  man 
indulge  the  vague  hope,  or  take  for  granted  that  it  will  be 
higher.  Let  him  view  the  whole  matter  as  a  man  of  sober  rea- 
son should,  and  if  in  his  best  judgment  he  is  satisfied  there 
must  be  a  higher  tide  yet,  why,  then,  so  be  it.  Let  him  act 
accordingly.  But  don't  let  him  shut  his  eyes  to  the  whole 
matter,  and  assume  that  it  must  be  so,  and  act  accordingly. 

2.  As  it  is  a  good  time  to  pay  debts,  so  it  is  of  special  im- 

19 


218  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

PORTANCE  FOR  THOSE  WHO  ARE  OUT  OF  DEBT  TO  KEEP  OUT. 

And  for  the  same  reasons.  It  is  going  in  debt  when  money  is 
plenty,  to  be  paid  when  money  is  scarce — when  prices  are 
high,  to  be  paid  when  prices  are  low.  Many  a  man  has  bought 
property  at  what  was  at  the  time  a  fair  price,  and  paid  half 
down  ;  and  in  a  few  years  given  up  the  property  for  the  other 
half,  and  made  a  good  bargain  at  that.  Thousands  in  this  way 
lost  every  thing  at  the  close  of  the  last  war.  They  presumed 
upon  the  continuance  of  war  prices. 

What  is  more  common  than  going  in  debt  when  business  is 
flush  and  prices  high  ?  It  is  just  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
— ^just  a  matter  of  course  with  a  great  portion  of  community. 
They  buy  when  money  is  cheap  and  pay  when  money  is  dear, 
and  are  "  all  their  life  time  subject  to  bondage."  So  much  is 
this  the  case,  that  it  has  become  a  common  remark  that  good 
times  and  high  prices  are  a  curse  to  community.  They  lead  to 
extravagant  hopes,  and  extravagant  expenditures,  and  deeper 
debt.  The  high  prices  of  provision  a  few  years  ago,  left  the 
farming  community  in  a  worse  condition  than  it  found  them. 
The  change  found  them  unprepared.  They  hoped  for  still  bet- 
ter times.  The  provision  perished  on  their  hands;  and  the 
money — the  bank  bills  issued  so  freely  on  the  credit  of  insuffi- 
cient deposits — perished  on  their  hands.  The  present  times 
forebode  a  convulsion  to  which  that  was  child's  play.  We 
have  no  means  to  determine  exactly  when  it  shall  break  upon 
us,  but  in  the  mean  time,  pay  up  your  debts,  and  keep  out  of 
debt.  What  John  Randolph  called  the  philosopher's  stone,  is 
really  so  in  these  times.  Pay  as  you  go.  "A  prudent  man 
foreseeth  the  evil,  and  hideth  himself:  but  the  simple  pass  on 
and  are  punished." 

The  queen's  chaplain  reproved  her  for  her  profanity.     She 


TnANKSGIYING    SERMON.  219 

thanked  him  for  his  frankness  and  faithfulness,  and  wished  to 
be  informed  of  other  faults.  "  I  will  inform  you  of  the  rest," 
said  he,  "  when  I  see  what  improvement  you  make  of  what  I 
have  already  told  you." 

I  might  add  thirdly,  but  first  and  secondly  are  sufficient. 
As  the  other  is  of  no  present  pressing  necessity,  it  may  be  re- 
served for  some  other  occasion — the  next  thanksgiving,  per- 
haps, should  God  spare  our  lives  and  permit  us  then  to  con- 
verse. At  least,  it  may  be  reserved  till  it  is  seen  what  im- 
provement is  made  upon  first  and  secondly. 


SERMON  XV. 

THANKSGIVING  SEKMOX,  1S48. 

Thirdly,  BretLreu, 

Even  when  we  Avere  Avith  you,  this  we  coramanderl  you,  that  if  any  would  not 
Avork,  neither  should  he  eat.    2  Thessalonians  iii.  10. 

TliG  Bible  of  course  cannot  mention  every  particular  duty 
which  devolves  upon  man ;  least  of  all  enumerate  the  various 
duties  vrhicli  arise  to  individuals  from  their  various  circum- 
stances. "  There  is  a  spirit  in  man;  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  them  understanding,"  and  much  must  be  left 
under  the  general  direction  of  the  Bible  to  that  spirit  and  that 
understanding ;  as  to  particulars,  much  must  be  left  to  every 
man's  judgment  and  conscience.  But  the  directions  are  often 
much  more  specific  than  could  have  been  expected  ;  and  as 
little  is  left  to  inference  as  possible.  The  Author  of  the  Bible 
knew  the  temper  and  spirit  of  man, — his  readiness  to  evade  or 
mistake  his  duty  ;  and  he  has  taken  pains  to  present  it  so 
clearly  as  to  leave  scarcely  the  possibility  of  mistake  or  evasion. 
To  those  beings  who  are  perfectly  disposed  to  obey,  and  whoso 
hearts  are  right  with  him,  a  hint  or  intimation  of  his  will  may 
be  sufficient.  He  knew  that  it  v/as  not  sufficient  for  man.  So 
he  has  not  left  his  will  on  the  most  important  subjects  to  bo 
gathered  by  inference  from  a  long  course  of  reasoning. 

The  text  is  but  one  of  many  instances.  That  this  should 
need  to  be  said  to  a  Christian  church,  at  first  sight  may  seem 
wonderful.  The  wonder,  upon  second  thought,  will  cease  ;  for 
a  church  may  be  far  from  the  perfection  that  is  in  Chri.st  Jesus. 


THANKSGIVING   SERMON.  221 

Its  excellencies  may  only  serve  to  make  its  defects  more  mani- 
fest, and  so  increase  tlieir  influence  and  importance  that  their 
correction  becomes  indispensable.  The  direction  in  the  text 
Tvas  not  a  new  one,  arising  from  the  necessity  of  the  case.  It 
•was  given  from  the  beginning  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  Gospel 
which  the  apostle  communicated.  They  are  here  only  reminded 
of  what  he  said  when  he  was  with  them.  Their  state  was  such 
that  they  needed  to  be  reminded  of  it.  For  there  were  some 
among  them  walking  disorderly,  *'  working  not  at  all." 

The  subject  is  appropriate  to  this  occasion.  "We  turn  aside 
to  give  thanks  to  God  for  his  blessing  upon  labor,  for  crown- 
ing labor  with  rich  success,  that  those  who  have  worked  may 
now  eat — not  of  their  penury,  but  of  their  abundance.  "  For 
even  when  we  were  with  you,  this  we  commanded  you,  that  if 
any  would  not  work,  neither  should  he  eat."  Or  as  the  Gov- 
ernor has  it,  "  it  is  fit  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord  .  .  . 
for  the  signal  prosperity  that  has  attended  our  labors  in  all  the 
useful  arts,  and  the  various  pursuits  in  which  we  have  been 
engaged," 

The  text  is  based  upon  a  just  principle.  Universal  nature 
sustains  it.  It  is  founded  upon  those  words  of  the  Lord,  "  In 
the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread."  There  are  some 
who  do  not  work — who  cannot  work — who  are  sent  to  earth, 
or  left  on  earth,  to  give  scope  to  the  kindly  feelings  of  their 
fellow  men,  to  teach  us  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  and  give  ex- 
amples of  patient  endurance.  There  are  those  who  have 
worked,  but  can  work  no  longer.  *'  To  will  is  present  with 
them,  but  how  to  perform  .  .  .  they  find  not."  Having 
accomplished  their  day,  they  are  worthy  of  double  honor.  But 
if  any  man  will  not  work,  neither  let  him  eat. 

Work  is  required  by  a  law  from  wliich  there  is  no  exemption. 
19* 


222  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

I.  Our  necessities  demand  it. 

Some  body  must  work,  both  to  break  tlown  and  to  build,  to 
pluck  up  and  to  plant.  Whatever  the  earth  was  in  its  origi- 
nal, it  now  yields  the  noxious  spontaneously,  the  useful  only 
by  cultivation.  In  this  world  there  is  no  advance,  without  in- 
dustry of  some  kind.  All  things  are  full  of  labor,  and  every 
thing  valuable  is  the  result  of  labor.  Providence  has  furnished 
the  raw  material,  but  not  wrought  into  shape  to  suit  our  ne- 
cessities. Nothing  is  furnished  ready  to  our  hands.  No  pos- 
session, or  benefit  from  possession,  without  labor.  There  are 
mountains  covered  with  forest  or  stored  with  mineral  wealth. 
But  of  what  use  is  the  forest  or  the  mine,  without  labor  ? 
There  are  vast  tracts  of  fertile  land  covered  with  timber  and 
stone,  or  with  thorns  and  briers,  but  of  what  use  are  they  with- 
out labor  ?  There  is  provision  furnished  for  the  beast  of  the 
field  and  the  fowl  of  the  air — all  ready  for  them.  Their  very 
nature  requires  this,  and  they  are  treated  according  to  their 
nature.  "  They  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  in- 
to barns;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them."  We  are 
not  treated  like  them,  as  our  nature  differs  from  theirs.  We 
are  made  wiser  than  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  the  fowls  of  the 
air,  and  a  necessity  is  laid  upon  us  which  is  not  upon  them. 
By  having  a  demand  upon  the  powers  which  distinguish  us  from 
them,  we  are  treated  as  higher  beings. 

Just  imagine  for  a  moment  the  condition  of  the  human  fami- 
ly, should  all  work  cease.  How  soon  would  thorns  and  briers 
gain  their  ancient  possession  of  the  fields,  and  all  that  goes  to 
support  or  comfort  human  life  disappear.  A  degree  of  indus- 
try has  been  forced  upon  man  by  his  very  state  and  condition 
on  earth.     His  natural  indolence  and  dread  of  labor  has  been 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  223 

overcome  by  a  strong  necessity.  He  is  made  to  feel  that  he 
must  do  or  die. 

II.  Odr  bodily  constitution  fits  for  work,  and  re- 
quires IT. 

There  is  in  our  bodily  constitution  a  provision  to  meet  the 
claims  upon  it.  Any  draft  regularly  drawn  will  be  honored, 
as  the  strength  rises  with  the  necessity.  A  draft  regularly 
drawn  is  a  demand  for  a  little,  regularly  increasing,  and  there 
is  a  regularly  increasing  bodily  power  to  meet  the  demand. 
The  strength  is  not  destroyed  by  use,  but  renewed  and  in- 
creased ;  it  is  enlarged,  not  used  up.  The  completest  bodily 
development  is  the  result  of  regular  exertion.  While  strength 
is  essential  to  work,  work  is  equally  essential  to  strength.  To 
have  more,  you  must  use  what  you  have.  "  For  whosoever  hath, 
to  him  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more  abundance ;  but 
whosoever  hath  not,  from  him  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he 
hath."  The  power  not  used,  gradually  diminishes  till  it  ceases 
to  be.  To  give  the  body  full  health  and  vigor,  or  to  keep  up 
its  strength,  there  must  be  regular  employment.  It  runs  down 
of  course,  unless  there  be  an  effort  to  keep  it  up.  It  dies  out 
under  the  corroding  influence  of  idleness.  And  as  the  powers 
and  strength  fail,  so  fails  the  appetite.  He  that  won't  work, 
by  and  by  can't  eat.  One  part  can  hardly  perform  its  office 
while  all  others  neglect  theirs.  All  attempt  to  evade  the  com- 
mandment— and  eat  beyond  the  work,  is  an  attempt  to  evade 
the  very  law  of  our  being.  Nature  is  sure  to  vindicate  her 
laws,  however  man  may  not  his.  A  distinguished  British  no- 
bleman was  lately  found  dead  alone  in  a  by-path.  He  had 
been  invited  to  dinner,  six  miles  from  his  residence.  Con- 
vinced at  last  that  to  eat,  there  must  be  work  of  some  kind ; 
to  prepare  for  the  dinner  he  commenced  his  journey  on  foot. 


224  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

But  he  bad  too  often  violated  tbe  law  of  his  being,  and  death 
met  him  upon  tbe  way.  His  attempt  to  satisfy  nature  failed, 
for  it  was  partial  and  came  too  late.  Many  eat  and  depend 
upon  medicine  to  perform  the  part  of  work ; — most  commonly 
upon  quack  medicines,  which  have  sprung  up  and  overspread 
the  land  like  tbe  flies  or  frogs  of  Egypt.  They  owe  their  ex- 
istence to  imposition  on  the  one  side,  and  gullibility  on  the 
other.  Tbe  effect  of  medicine  is  often  more  fatal  and  rapid 
than  tbe  disease, — and  at  the  very  best,  is  only  like  borrowing 
at  3  or  4  'per  cent  a  month  to  stave  off  bankruptcy ; — post- 
poning tbe  day  a  little,  but  rendering  it  more  ruinous  and 
deadly.  Our  bodily  constitution  requires  work,  and  it  never 
can  exist  in  full  vigor  without  it.  It  is  feeble  and  puny,  or 
loose  and  overgrown ;  having  no  strength  of  muscle  or  firmness 
of  nerve  only  as  it  is  built,  like  a  city,  "compact  together" 
by  work.  Every  effort  to  evade  work,  is  but  a  contrivance  to 
ensnare  and  delude.  For  though  men  may  set  aside  tbe  ordi- 
nance of  heaven,  they  can  never  save  themselves  from  tbe  re- 
sults of  violation. 

III.  Our  minds  cannot  be  quiet  without  work. 

Our  busiest  seasons  are  our  happiest  seasons — the  time  filled 
up,  and  no  vacant  space  upon  our  bands.  The  most  depressing 
and  disheartening  of  all  feelings  is  listlcssness — either  having 
nothing  to  do,  or  no  sufficient  inducement  to  do  anything.  A 
consciousness  of  cumbering  the  ground,  and  an  uneasiness  of 
feeling,  yet  not  enough  to  excite  to  active  effort. 

Without  any  thought,  we  might  have  the  happiness  of  a 
brute ;  with  thoughts  deep-stirred  within  us,  we  might  have 
the  happiness  of  an  intelligent  being.  But  hanging  between, 
we  have  the  miseries  of  both  and  the  joys  of  neither.  A  hap- 
py couple  in  middle  life  had  gathered  a  sufficiency  of  wealth 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  225 

to  satisfy  their  moderato  ambition,  and  retired  from  business. 
They  Lad  no  children,  good  or  bad,  to  provide  for — to  disturb 
their  quiet  or  cheer  their  hearts.  They  felt  no  interest  iii 
a  single  human  being.  After  the  comfort  and  quietness  of 
their  retirement  had  become  familiar,  and  things  outward  were 
fixed  to  their  mind,  their  strongest  wish  was  to  sleep  more  and 
think  loss ; — a  wish  that  unhappily  could  not  be  gratified  to 
the  full  extent,  at  any  rate,  not  all  at  once.  But  the  happy 
couple  are  continually  approaching  the  object  of  their  ambition 
— continually  sleeping  more  and  thinking  less — not  dead  quite, 
but  buried,  and  yet  with  hardly  life  enough  to  say,  buried 
alive.  How  many  envy  such  a  state.  Freed  not  only  from 
labor,  but  from  all  necessity  of  thought  or  care.  As  though  a 
man  could  be  happy  with  nothing  to  think  about  and  nothing 
to  be  interested  in ; — in  a  waveless  calm,  a  slumber  of  the 
dead. 

Our  minds  cannot  be  quiet  without  labor  of  some  kind — at 
any  rate,  not  until  they  have  ceased  to  manifest  the  distinguish- 
ing attributes  of  mind.  The  mind,  as  much  as  the  body,  de- 
mands work.  Without  employment,  it  sinks  in  darkness  or 
spends  its  strength  in  preying  on  itself. 

IV.  The  example  of  the  best  of  our  race  encourages 
WORK.  They  all  found  something  to  do,  and  they  all  had  a 
will  to  do  it, — not  reluctantly,  or  half-heartedly,  but  with  their 
might.  They  wore  laborers  on  earth, — their  very  religion 
made  them  diligent  in  business.  They  made  friends  of  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness.  They  were  fiiithful  in  little  as 
a  preparation  that  they  might,  and  an  evidence  that  they 
would,  be  faithful  in  much.  They  did  not  sleep  away  life  in 
idleness,  or  dream  it  away  in  romantic  fancies.  There  was  a 
work  to  do,  and  their  minds  and  bodies  too  were  girded  up  to 


22G  HEY.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

the  work.  It  was  not  pastime,  but  work  such  as  brought  on 
fatigue,  and  required  rest  preparatory  to  its  renewal.  Nor 
were  they  dispirited  and  down-hearted  because  the  results  of 
their  work  were  not  all  for  their  own  benefit.  They  found  a 
pleasure  in  working  for  others.  The  Savior,  while  on  earth, 
claimed  no  exemption  from  work.  With  him,  want  of  occupa- 
tion was  not  the  sum  of  blessedness.  Nor  was  his  labor  eye- 
service,  or  amusement.  "  I  must  work  the  works  of  him  that 
sent  me,  while  it  is  day."  There  was  no  idea  of  degradation 
attached  to  work — nothing  disgraceful  in  work.  Nor  did  it 
trouble  him  that  his  station  was  not  the  most  conspicuous,  the 
most  honorable,  according  to  the  view  of  men.  "  I  am  among 
you  as  he  that  serveth."  I  *'  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister."  "  He  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant." 
The  honor  or  disgrace  with  him  was  not  in  the  station,  but  in 
performing  or  neglecting  the  proper  duties  of  the  station. 

Nature  and  revelation  point  to  the  extremes  to  encourage 
work  and  shame  idleness.  "Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ; 
consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise ;  which  having  no  guide,  over- 
seer, or  ruler,  provideth  her  meat  in  the  summer,  and  gather- 
eth  her  food  in  the  harvest."  Go  to  the  Savior,  0  vain  man, 
and  learn  that  there  is  nothing  degrading  or  disgraceful  in 
work.  "  All  things  are  full  of  labor."  Shalt  thou  claim  ex- 
emption, or  go  to  it  reluctantly,  and  complain  of  thy  hard  lot 
which  makes  it  necessary  ?  The  very  necessity  for  work  is 
one  of  heaven's  richest  blessings  to  the  earth — not  merely  a 
blessing  itself,  but  tlie  only  effectual  guarantee  that  any  thing 
else  shall  be  a  blessing.  "Behold,  this  was  the  iniquity  of 
Sodom,    .    .     .    fulness  of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness." 

We  sometimes  complain  of  long  winters  and  sterile  soil,  of 
abundant  snows  and  rocks  with  scanty   sunshine,  and   envy 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  227 

-.hose  who  have  fallen  upon  a  more  productive  soil  and  a  milder 
climate.  But  the  more  there  is  furnished  to  the  hand,  the  less 
the  maturity  and  energy  of  personal  character.  "Necessity  is 
the  mother  of  invention,"  and  by  enlisting  the  mind  it  relieves 
the  body  of  an  over-pressure.  The  sterile  soil  and  hard  cli- 
mate set  the  wits  to  work,  and  produce  an  astonishing  facility 
and  tact  in  business — a  practical  common-sense  which  every 
where  commands  respect.  A  minister  at  the  West  overtook  a 
traveler  who  had  broken  his  harness,  and,  being  unable  to  re- 
pair it  or  get  on  without  repair,  and  far  from  any  house,  he 
was  at  his  wit's  end.  He  had  none  of  the  forethought  which 
fills  a  Yankee's  pocket  with  tow  strings  ;  and  was  venting  his 
feelings  in  language  like  this  :  *'  If  I  was  a  Yankee  I  should 
know  how  to  fix  this, — I  wish  I  was  a  Yankee."  The  minis- 
ter rode  up,  saying,  "  I  am  a  Yankee.  I  will  fix  it  for  you." 
By  means  of  his  early  training  he  had  common  sense,  accord- 
ing to  the  definition  which  a  farmer  gave  of  the  phrase.  Some 
students  had  been  puzzling  him  with  their  extras,  and  he  in 
turn  tried  his  upon  them,  setting  them  at  a  kind  of  work  which 
practice  had  made  perfectly  easy  to  him.  Having  shown  their 
ignorance  and  awkwardness  to  his  amusement,  he  called  on 
one,  saying,  "  Let  him  try,  he  seems  to  have  some  common 
sense  about  it."  One  of  the  students  whose  common  sense 
was  thus  virtually  called  in  question,  inquired  of  the  farmer 
what  he  meant  by  common  sense,  no  4ioubt  feeling,  "  now  I 
have  you,  sir."  "  I  mean,"  says  he,  "  the  knack  of  doing  a 
thing.  Our  hard  climate  and  comparatively  barren  soil  gives 
this  '  knack  of  doino;  a  thino;.'  " 

But  work,  though  so  necessary, — required  by  both  body  and 
mind,  and  encouraged  by  the  example  of  the  best  of  our  race, 
and  of  God  in  human  nature,  is  condemned  in  various  ways. 


ZZG  REV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 

1.  Bj  false  notions  of  religion.  The  idea  that  uselessness 
on  earth  is  a  fitting  preparation  for  heaven,  is  by  no  means  a 
new  one.  It  was  one  of  the  early  perversions  of  Christianity 
— perhaps  the  earliest  practical  one.  The  first  Christians  in 
umltitutles  were  driven  by  persecution  from  society.  They 
did  not  forsake  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth  and  the  busi- 
ness of  the  world  voluntarily,  but  from  necessity.  "  They 
wandered  in  deserts  and  in  mountains,  and  in  dens  and  caves 
of  the  earth  "  There  alone  they  could  live  in  safety,  and  the 
mountains,  and  caves,  and  dens  of  the  earth  were  sanctified  by 
their  piety.  But  thousands,  forsaking  all  the  business  of  life, 
flocked  to  them  after  the  necessity  had  ceased.  They  claimed 
that  they  were  following  the  footsteps  of  those  "  of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy."  And  in  some  sense  they  were  doing 
the  same  things.  But  they  were  doing  from  choice  what  those 
whom  they  professed  to  follow  did  from  necessity.  It  was 
as  if  a  man  in  health  should  lounge  upon  the  bed  or  idle 
about  the  house  in  imitation  of  the  patience,  and  quietness,  and 
submission  of  a  sick  man.  No  such  patience,  and  quietness, 
and  submission  are  required,  or  accepted  of  him.  What  are 
virtues  in  the  sick  man  are  no  virtues  in  him.  The  pious  were 
forced  to  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.  The  practice,  sanctioned 
by  their  example,  became  popular  and  contagious,  even  after 
the  circumstances  were  entirely  altered.  Thousands  rushed  to 
the  deserts,  anxious  to-  escape  life's  temptations,  even  by  evad- 
ing all  its  duties.  This  course  was  supported  by  a  feeling 
which,  when  properly  directed  and  controlled,  was  a  right  feel- 
ing— a  feeling  of  the  vanity  of  all  earthly  things,  and  of  the 
overwhelming  importance  of  heavenly  things.  Eternity  made 
time,  and  all  the  things  of  time,  nothing.  And,  surely,  there 
is  no  comparison,  in  value  and  importance.     But  why  set  them 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  229 

against  each  other — the  business  of  earth  against  the  joys  of 
heaven  ?  That  is  the  old  feeling, — that  uselessness  on  earth 
is  the  preparation  for  heaven, — that  the  proper  duties  of  life 
are  inconsistent  with  that  preparation, — that  worldly  business, 
which  the  Bible  requires,  implies  worldly-mindedness,  which 
the  Bible  condemns.  Then,  because  the  man  is  unfit  for  earth, 
he  must  be  fit  for  heaven  I  But  in  truth,  true  relioiou  oives 
a  new  value  and  importance  to  earthly  things,  as  they  lay  hold 
of  heaven,  and,  under  the  influence  of  the  Spirit,  fit  souls  for 
heaven.  "  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful 
also  in  much."  "If,  therefore,  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in 
the  unrighteous  mammon,  who  will  commit  to  your  trust  the 
true  riches  ?  "  To  prepare  for  the  future  world,  is  to  perform 
the  appropriate  duties  of  this  ;  to  "  use  this  world  as  net  abus- 
ing it,"  and  so  join  it  to  the  world  to  come,  that  when  we  fail 
here  we  may  be  received  into  everlasting  habitations.  It  is 
not  what  the  world  and  the  things  of  the  world  are  worth,  set 
by  themselves, — say  "  vanity  of  vanities,  vanity  of  vanities,  all 
is  vanity,"  if  you  please,  but  why  disjoin  them  from  the  things 
of  eternity?  Work  is  condemned  by  false  notions  of  religion, 
as  though  it  was  inconsistent  with  spiritual-mindedness,  and  as 
though  it  were  giving  an  importance  to  earth  which  it  does  not 
deserve.  "  AYe  hear  that  there  are  some  which  walk  among 
you  disorderly,  working  not  at  all," — neglecting  all  business 
on  religious  pretenses, — too  celestial  for  earth,  though  they 
still  need  food  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  which  somebody 
must  provide  for  them.  "Working  not  at  all,  but  are  busy 
bodies."  Having  no  business  of  their  own,  they  have  leisure 
to  meddle  with  other  people's.  "  Now  them  that  are  such,  wo 
connnand  and  exhort  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  with  qui- 
etness they  work,  and  eat  their  own  bread."  Again,  he  says 
20 


230  RKV. 

to  tbe  same  church,  "That  ye  study  to  be  quiet,  and  to  do 
3'our  own  business,  and  to  work  with  your  own  hands  as  we  com- 
manded you  ;  that  ye  may  walk  honestly  toward  them  that  are 
Trithout,  and  that  ye  may  have  lack  of  nothing."  Writing  to 
another  church,  he  says,  "  Let  him  labor,  working  with  his 
hands  the  thing  which  is  good,  that  he  may  have  to  give  to  him 
that  needeth."  Every  true  feeling  and  principle  of  religion 
encourages  and  requires  work.  Indeed,  there  is  no  hope  of  per- 
manency or  use  from  religion  itself,  except  as  those  who  receive 
it  are  taught  to  be  industrious.  Industry,  so  far  from  being 
an  accidental  adjunct,  enters  into  the  very  essence  of  religion. 
It  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  gospel.  He  that  through  idle  and 
vagrant  habits  is  good  for  nothing  here,  is  good  for  nothing 
any  where.  Unfit  for  earth,  he  is  still  more  unfit  for  heaven. 
For  surely,  heaven  is  not  the  gathering  place  of  those  who 
have  cumbered  this  world.  A  religion  that  dispenses  with  in- 
dustry, and  suffers  men  to  be  dead  weights  upon  society,  that 
continually  interferes  with  and  interrupts  the  proper  business  of 
life,  is  the  religion  of  the  pope,  but  is  not  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

2.  AVork  is  condemned  hy  false  vieius  of  gentility.  As 
some  are  too  celestial  to  be  of  any  use  on  earth,  so  some  are 
too  genteel.  A  greater  absurdity  certainly  cannot  be  stated  in 
language.  Yet  so  it  is.  A  prominent  idea  of  gentility  is  use- 
lessness.  It  is  a  path,  long  or  short,  that  leads  to  nothing, 
busy  to  no  end,  work  that  would  be  disgraced  by  making  any 
thing, — activity,  here  and  there,  that  brings  nothing  to  pass, 
nor  seeks  to  bring  to  pass  any  thing  useful.  The  very  test  of 
this  false  gentility  is  uselessness.  "  They  toil  not,  neither  do 
they  spin."  The  glory  is  to  spend,  or  waste, — the  shame,  to 
earn.     This  spirit  manifests  itself  in  a  great  variety  of  ways. 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  231 

It  is  no  stranger  any  where.  Perhaps  the  hardest  of  all  les- 
sons to  learn  is,  that  there  is  nothing  really  shameful  but  sin. 
AVhen  work  must  be  clone,  this  spirit  is  seen  in  excuses  and 
apologies — deploring  the  necessity — lamenting  the  ungentility 
of  being  found  at  it, — or  putting  a  false  face  upon  it  as  an 
amusement  or  a  prescription  of  the  doctor's.  A  New  Hamp- 
shire lawyer,  so  the  story  goes,  was  sawing  wood  one  morning 
like  a  man,  i.  e.  with  all  his  might,  and  looking  round  saw  the 
carriage  of  his  friend  the  judge  driving  up.  To  be  caught  in 
the  very  act  of  so  ungenteel  a  business  was  awful ;  and  if  not 
caught  in  tlie  act,  his  heat  and  perspiration  would  betray  him. 
He  trembled  like  a  Hindoo  at  the  very  thought  of  losing  caste. 
But  "  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention,"  and  being  both  a 
Yankee  and  a  lawyer,  he  was  fertile  in  expedients,  and  would 
not  die  without  a  struggle.  He  rushed  into  the  house,  seized 
his  gun,  put  for  the  woods  in  double-quick  time,  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  all  in  a  sweat,  came  in  from  lamting.  The  judge 
could  draw  an  inference,  and  though  he  saw  not  the  whole,  he 
saw  enough  to  infer  the  rest.  His  visit  was  a  short  one,  for 
he  felt,  like  the  poet, 

"  To  laugh  were  want  of  dignity  and  grace, 
And  to  be  grave  exceeds  all  power  of  face." 

While  this  false  gentility  is  sometimes  simply  ludicrous,  and  is 
to  be  treated  rather  as  an  infelicity  than  brought  as  a  grave  ac- 
cusation, it  commonly  shows  itself  in  more  oppressive  forms. 
It  is  the  source  of  a  great  portion  of  the  miseries  that  earth  has 
suffered. 

Three  millions  of  human  beings  in  this  free  country  are  held 
in  abject  servitude.  They  are  punished  like  human  beings, 
only  with  far  greater  severity.     They  are  human,  yet  accord- 


-oJ  REV.    J).    MERRILL  S    SER3I0NS. 

ing  to  law  can  claim  tbe  treatment  of  human  beings  in  no  other 
respect.  They  can  do  nothing,  possess  nothing,  acquire  noth- 
ing but  what  must  belong  to  their  master.  All  the  rights  of 
humanity  are  denied  them ;  all  the  laws  of  God  to  them  are 
annulled.  They  are  things  composed  of  arms,  and  legs,  and 
various  integuments  convenient  to  work  with.  But  the  win- 
dows of  their  souls  are  shut  by  express  statute.  As  creatures 
of  conscience,  of  immortality — in  God's  image,  they  have  no 
legal  existence.  The  lav/  knows  them  only  as  working  ani- 
mals, except  in  the  single  matter  of  punishment,  and  provides 
for  them  only  as  such.  Now  what  is  the  foundation  of  this 
system  of  abominations?  It  is  that  false  gentility  that  is 
ashamed  to  work.  It  is  the  very  spirit  I  have  described — 
modified  by  circumstances.  In  the  North,  more  frequently  lu- 
dicrous in  its  mode  of  manifestation,  in  the  South,  devilish,  but 
the  same  spirit.  A  man  may  hunt,  fish,  gamble,  race  horses, 
any  thing  but  work,  and  be  a  gentleman.  But  let  him  put  his 
hand  to  any  useful  and  regular  employment,  and  he  loses  caste. 
Now,  he  who  feels  thus  may  be  too  poor  to  be  a  slave  holder  in 
in  fact,  or  may  live  where  slavery  is  not  allowed ;  but  he  is  a 
slave  holder  in  spirit,  live  where  he  will.  The  foundation  of 
the  whole  system  of  slavery  is  this  false  gentility.  It  produced 
slavery,  and  slavery  increases  it.  They  mutually  operate  as 
cause  and  effect — ^just  as  strength  is  essential  to  work,  and 
work  increases  strength.  And  shall  this  false  gentility,  which 
is  both  the  root  and  offspring  of  slavery,  have  still  ampler 
scope  to  show  itself,  and  bring  forth  its  fruit  of  Sodom — be 
planted  and  go  to  seed  in  new  lands  ?  The  whole  object  of 
the  famous  Wilmot  Proviso,  which,  I  am  glad  to  say,  all  par- 
ties in  our  free  country  favor,  is  to  prevent  this.  Let  slavery 
flourisii  and   a'O  to  seed  at  the  South,  if  the  frentlemen  of  the 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  238 

South  will  have  it  so,  for  so  it  is   "  nominated  in  the  bond," 
but  shall  it  curse  other  lands  ? 

To  this  same  gentility  that  is  ashamed  to  work  we  owe  most 
of  the  wars  that  have  desolated  the  earth.  They  have  been 
wars  of  plunder,  to  secure  the  fruits  of  others'  labors ;  the 
idle,  and  therefore  profligate,  seeking  to  appropriate  to  them- 
'  selves  what  has  been  raised  by  the  industry  of  others.  The 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  who  have  rushed  to  them,  are 
those  who  must  eat  but  won't  work.  They  are  those  who 
have  always  hung  loose  upon  society,  with  no  regular  employ- 
ment, and  living  at  hap-hazard, — those  who,  hasting  to  be  rich, 
have  ever  failed  by  their  over-anxiety,  and  so  are  without  em- 
ployment or  character,  or  those  who,  with  some  means,  but  no 
occupation,  find  time  hanging  heavy  on  their  hands,  and  long 
for  excitement  and  adventure.  All  armies,  with  very  few  ex- 
ceptions, are  composed  of  these  three  classes,  who  differ  in 
spirit,  but  agree  in  the  result.  They  will  not  work — too  indo- 
lent or  too  proud  for  any  regular  employment — ashamed  to 
soil  their  hands  by  industry,  but  ready  to  dip  them  in  blood. 
And  in  this  genteel  profession  they  risk  lives  of  no  use  to  the 
community, — and  through  indolence,  or  disappointment,  or 
listlessness,  of  little  value  in  their  own  estimation.  It  was  of 
old  counted  the  happiness  of  the  soldier,  that  it  was  soon  over 
with  him  ;  one  rush,  and  sudden  death  or  joyful  victory, — he 
is  made  for  life,  or  done  with  life.  It  is  the  same  feeling  now 
— by  the  extra  efforts  of  an  hour  to  dispense  with  further — to 
connect  his  disappointment  with  a  respectable  profession,  or, 
having  become  familiar  with  the  excitement  of  races  and  gam- 
ine; tables,  seeking  the  stronger  excitement  of  the  battle  field. 
Our  own  army  for  the  most  part  has  been  made  up  of  these 
tln-ee  classes — the  two  former  principally  from  the  North,  the 
20* 


-34  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

latter  principally  from  the  South.  AVliat  would  become  of  the 
younger  sons  of  the  nobility  in  England,  but  for  the  army  and 
navy  ?  It  is  disgraceful  to  work  in  agriculture,  or  art,  or  com- 
merce. A  long  line  of  noble  ancestry  forbids  that  any  thing 
should  be  honorable  in  their  hands  but  the  sword.  And  what 
will  become  of  the  younger  sons,  and  older  too,  of  the  southern 
nobility,  without  war  ?  A  false  gentility  forbids  all  healthy 
excitement  from  useful  employment.  And  their  minds  must 
stagnate  or  seek  other  ex(?itement — the  intoxicating  cup,  the 
horse  race,  the  gaming  table,  the  duel.  They  risk  life  readily, 
for,  shut  out  from  the  comfort  of  regular  useful  employment, 
they  set  no  high  value  upon  life.  They  think  of  it  fairly ; 
for,  to  them,  it  is  not  worth  much.  They  do  not  avoid  all 
useful  employment  through  indolence,  but  through  false  no- 
tions of  gentility.  For,  removed  from  the  withering  influence 
of  these  false  notions,  they  have  the  industry  of  other  men, 
and  shown  in  the  same  way,  as  tens  of  hundreds  of  emigrants 
from  the  slave  states  to  the  free,  bear  witness.  But  war  is 
connected  with  slavery.  It  is  the  natural  outlet  of  the  spirit 
of  enterprise  and  energy  which  slavery  shuts  out  of  all  useful 
employments.  The  earth  is  laid  waste,  and  thousands  of  hu- 
man beings  are  sent  to  their  last  account,  that  the  idle  may 
have  excitement  and  exercise  of  some  kind  to  give  them  appe- 
tite ;  that  those  who  are  ashamed  to  work  may  have  a  genteel 
business  in  killing  and  being  killed.  Sometimes  they  expire 
on  the  battle  field  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  though  far  more  fre- 
quently they  die  of  camp  diseases,  through  inattention,  and  the 
utter  want  of  all  provision  or  medicine.  Glory,  forsooth,  the 
most  wretched  and  forlorn  of  all  masters, — and  they  return 
covered  with  glory,  and  clothed  with  cursing  as  a  garment,  say- 
ing nothing  about  the  spoils.     The  origin  of  all  this  is  a  false 


THANKSGIVING    SERMON.  235 

gentility,  which  in  some  of  its  manifestations  appears  so  ludi- 
crous. Just  so  far  as  that  is  removed,  and  right  thoughts  of 
work  entertained,  just  so  far  we  banish  slavery  and  put  an  end 
to  wars,  with  all  the  minor  evil^  that  mortify,  but  do  not  kill. 

Let  what  is  manifestly  right,  be  felt  to  be  manly  and  honor- 
able. Never  bo  ashamed  of  any  thing  that  is  really  useful  and 
necessary.  Let  work  appear  in  its  own  dignity  and  impor- 
tance— not  shamefaced,  borrowing  leave  to  be,  and  asking  par- 
don of  the  world  for  being.  There  has  been  too  much  of  that 
already,  and  workmen  that  need  not  be,  have  been  ashamed. 
As  there  are  those  who  glory  in  their  shame,  there  are  also 
those  who  are  ashamed  of  their  glory.  Away  with  all  this. 
Let  us  all  learn  that  there  is  nothing  shameful  but  sin,  that  no 
real  disgrace  can  attach  to  us  while  we  are  true  to  God  and  to 
ourselves. 

The  exhortation  last  year  was  on  two  points.  And  without 
saying  exactly  that  ye  "  are  dull  of  hearing,"  it  may  not  be 
useless  to  repeat ;  especially  as  they  are  opportune  at  the  end 
of  every  year.  First.  Settle  up  your  accounts,  and  see  liow 
you,  stand.  Secondly.  Be  careful  about  going  in  debt. 
Thirdly.  Never  be  ashamed  of  your  business  ; — ^unless  it  be 
really  shameful,  then  be  out  of  it  quick.  Be  "a  workman 
that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,"  and  then  don't  be  ashamed. 
It  is  the  highest  honor  of  man  to  be  useful  on  the  earth.  Trust 
in  the  Lord  and  do  good,  and  you  shall  never  be  ashamed, 
world  without  end. 


SERMON  XVI. 

TEMPERAKCE  SERMOX.^ 

Neither  be  partaker  of  other  men's  sins.    1  Tlmotht  v.  22. 

The  text  has  reference  to  a  particular  case.  It  is  an  exhor- 
tation to  Timothy  not  to  "lay  hands  on  skulls  that  cannot 
teach  and  will  not  learn,"  enforced  by  the  consideration  that 
in  that  case  he  would  bo  partaker  of  their  sins,  as  all  the  mis- 
chief which  they  did  could  be  traced  back  directly  through 
them  to  him,  who  had  given  them  countenance.  This  subject 
is  very  copious,  and  might  justly  be  applied  in  a  thousand 
ways,  in  which  we  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  apply  it 
at  present.  I  shall  apply  it  to  the  purposes  for  which  we  are 
convened.  Let  us  then  consider  some  of  the  ways  in  which 
one  man  may  become  partaker  of  another's  sin. 

I.  By  applauding  it,  and  those  who  commit  it.  The 
love  of  distinction  lies  deep  in  the  human  breast.  To  this  the 
Bible  appeals  when  it  offers  the  honor  that  comes  from  God, 
and  an  everlasting  name  that  shall  never  be  cut  off;  and  when 
this  appeal  prevails,  duty  and  happiness,  the  glory  of  God,  and 
blessedness  of  man,  are  forever  united.  But  distinction  is  of- 
fered from  a  thousand  quarters,  and  sought  in  a  thousand  other 
ways.  Indeed,  so  keen  is  this  desire  of  distinction,  that  it  will 
grasp  at  any  thing  that  seems  likely  to  give  it.  In  some  cases 
it  shows  itself  in  things  merely  laughable  or  ridiculous,  in  oth- 

*  This  Sermon  was  published  in  1833;  and  generally  known  as  the  "  Mate 
to  the  Ox.-' 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  237 

crs  it  lays  the  foundation  for  infinite  evils.  You  may  see  it  in 
dress,  in  manners,  in  pronunciation,  in  the  use  of  pompous  and 
unmeaning  words,  or  in  the  boast  of  being  or  having  been 
peculiarly  wicked.  You  may  hear  it  in  the  challenge, — I  can 
out-run,  out-ride,  out-shoot,  out-drink.  Here  is  the  mischief, 
and  through  the  land  it  has  been  one  great  source  of  drunken- 
ness. For  multitudes  have  made  themselves  drunk,  not  so 
much  because  they  courted  the  excitement  of  the  spirit,  as  the 
praise  of  their  compeers.  For  who  would  be  beat,  if  he  could 
help  it  ?  Many  a  time  has  a  wager  been  laid,  and  the  greatest 
drinker  is  the  winner ;  and  when  there  is  no  wager,  the  pres- 
ence and  applause  of  others  produces  all  the  effects  of  a  wager 
— an  intense  anxiety  for  victory,  and  an  effort  put  to  the  ut- 
most stretch  to  obtain  it.  Many  a  man  has  died  in  the  opera- 
tion, and  myriads  have  been  made  drunkards.  They  did  not 
care  for  the  spirit  at  first,  but  then,  praise  was  to  be  gained  by 
drinking,  and  they  were  candidates  for  fiime,  and  aspirants  to 
the  high  honor  of  having  the  most  capacious  stomachs  and  the 
strongest  heads.  Now,  all.  that  hailed  the  victor  in  a  drinking 
match,  or  shouted  "  well  done  you,"  as  he  drank  off  the  glass 
of  triumph  over  his  prostrate  competitors,  are  partakers  of  his 
sin — and  partakers  in  no  common  measure.  For  they  knew 
that  he  was  made  of  inflammable  materials,  and  yet  applied  the 
torch,  utterly  reckless  of  the  consecjuencos.  How  much  of  in- 
temperance may  be  traced  to  this  source  ?  It  was  creditable 
to  drink  deep — a  proof  of  uncommon  capacity,  and  a  matter  of 
boasting.  Many  a  lie  has  been  told  by  the  man  of  small  pow- 
ers, to  disguise  his  inability  to  come  up  to  the  full  measure. 
Even  children  soon  learn  that  it  is  manly  to  take  off  their  glass 
without  shrinking,  and  disgraceful  to  show  by  their  wry  faces 
that  they  are  new  beginners.     Let  any  man  recollect  the  strife 


238  SEV.  D.  mehrill's  sermons. 

which  lie  lias  seen  to  outdo  in  drinking,  and  the  applause  the 
victor  received,  and  the  envy  which  men  of  more  limited  pow- 
ers spent  upon  him,  and  he  can  neither  wonder  at  the  extent  of 
drunkenness,  nor  think  the  drunkard  the  only  criminal.  Who 
praised  his  strong  head,  and  thus  encouraged  hiin  to  take  an- 
other dram  ?  Who  called  in  question  his  courage,  and  thus 
put  him  up  to  deeper  drinking  'I  W1io  appealed  to  his  love  of 
distinction,  or  his  politeness,  and  thus  induced  him  to  drink 
again  ?  In  the  scale  of  crime  there  is  a  stage  beyond  the  per- 
petration of  abominable  deeds,  and  it  is  occupied  by  those  who 
applaud  them.  The  doer,  criminal  as  he  may  be,  yields  the 
palm  of  wickedness  to  those  who  cheer  him  on.  For  the  ap- 
plause would  seem  to  arise  from  interested  love  of  wickedness, 
as  if  they  had  adopted  Satan's  principle — "  evil,  be  thou  my 
good." 

II.  A  man  becomes  partaker  of  another's  sin  by  advising 
IT.  Ardent  spirit  has  been  a  remedy  for  almost  every  disease 
that  has  afflicted  the  human  race,  and  applied  in  almost  every 
conceivable  circumstance.  For  this  physicians  are,  in  a  great 
measure,  responsible.  "  How  shall  I  take  this  'ere  medicine, 
Doctor?"  "Oh,  take  it  in  a  little  whiskey,"  says  the  Doc- 
tor ,  "  or,  if  you  have  brandy,  it  is  all  the  better."  Whatever 
else  may  or  may  not  be  proper,  ardent  spirit  never  comes 
amiss  ;  without  it,  the  medicine  can  never  produce  its  full  ef- 
fect. Is  it  any  wonder  that  men  think  highly  of  that  which 
can  accommodate  itself  to  any  disease,  and  go  merrily  along 
with  any  medicine  ?  or  that  they  should  not  be  sparing  in  its 
application  to  any  of  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to  ?  Now,  who 
introduced  and  patronized  this  opinion  ?  Physicians  :  partly 
to  please  their  customers,  and  partly  as  a  matter  of  conve- 
nience, for  ardent  spirit  is  always  at  hand.     Nor  is  the  physi- 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  239 

cian  now  alone  in  giving  tliis  advice  ;  multitudes  have  become 
almost  as  wise  as  lie,  and  can  recommend  spirit  with  as  grave 
a  face,  and  as  hearty  a  good  will.  And  there  is  scarcely  a 
liquid  compound  for  the  relief  of  misery,  from  "  number  six" 
down  to  plain  bitters,  but  spirit  is  one  of  the  principal  ingre- 
dients. Previous  to  the  present  excitement,  a  few  of  the  facul- 
ty have  opposed  the  current,  and  done  what  they  could  to  un- 
deceive the  public  mind.  It  is  said  that  a  patient  of  Doctor 
Rush's,  who  was  directed  to  take  some  very  unpalatable  medi- 
cine, sent  to  inquire  whether  he  might  take  it  in  spirit, 
"No,"  said  the  Doctor,  "he  shall  never  stand  before  his 
Maker  and  say  I  made  him  a  drunkard."  Had  all  physicians 
adopted  this  noble  principle,  what  a  saving  there  had  been  of 
human  wretchedness  I  But  it  may  be  said  that  the  patient  has 
gone  beyond  the  prescription,  and  in  that  case  he  alone  is  re- 
sponsible ;  for  he  was  never  advised  to  be  a  drunkard.  True. 
But  the  adviser  knew  something  of  the  nature  of  man,  and  of 
the  insidious  action  of  spirit ;  and  though  he  did  not  advise  his 
patient  to  go  clear  to  perdition,  he  pointed  out  the  road  that 
leads  to  it  as  a  safe  and  pleasant  one,  at  least,  for  a  considera- 
ble distance ;  and  he  knew,  too,  that  when  his  patient  had 
once  fairly  set  forth,  he  might  almost  as  well  stop  lightning  in 
mid  volley,  as  stop  him.  Is  he  clear,  then,  of  the  drunkard's 
sin  V 

III.  A  man  becomes  partaker  of  another's  sin  by  furnish- 
ing THE  MEAN.s.  Pcrhaps  none  are  more  deeply  criminal  than 
these,  and  none  more  strongly  entrenched.  It  is  an  admitted 
principle,  that  he  who  furnishes  food  or  arms  to  an  enemy,  is 
a  traitor  to  his  country.  He  puts  the  means  of  destruction  in- 
to the  hands  of  those  who  are  disposed  to  make  thorough  proof 
of  them,  and,  in  effect,  bids  them  God  speed  in  their  work  of 


240  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermoxs. 

mischief.  By  aiding  and  abetting  the  enemy,  he  proves  him- 
self a  traitor ;  and  as  a  friend  in  disguise,  perhaps  serves  their 
purpose  more  effectually  than  if  he  had  openly  taken  their 
part.  So  is  he  that  gives  his  neighbor  drink.  He  seeks  his 
own  interest ;  hears  not  the  cry  of  blood ;  sees  not  the  crime 
of  blood ;  but  looks  merely  at  the  price  of  blood.  He  pursues 
one  undeviating  course ;  and  whether  men  shall  be  killed 
speedily,  or  guzzle  long,  as  well  as  deep,  is  a  mere  calculation 
of  profit.  Now,  who  furnishes  the  drunkard  with  the  means 
of  sinning  ?  or,  to  be  more  particular,  suppose  the  drunkard 
guilty  of  a  specific  crime.  In  a  fit  of  madness,  he  has  mur- 
dered a  man.  Is  he  the  only  criminal  in  the  affair  ?  How 
came  he  bereft  of  reason  ?  He  was  drunk.  Where  did  he 
get  the  means  ?  At  the  store,  the  tavern,  or  grocery.  But 
how  came  he  a  drunkard  ?  When  a  boy,  he  learned  that  it 
was  manly  to  drink.  Who  made  the  spirit,  and  who  furnished 
the  materials  from  which  it  was  made  ?  The  drunkard  has 
done  the  deed,  and  at  a  human  tribunal  must  answer  for  it 
alone.  At  a  higher  tribunal,  his  partners  in  crime  will  be  re- 
vealed, and  those  who  are  most  remote  as  to  time  and  place, 
may  be  nearest  in  guilt — those  who  corrupted  his  mind  and 
taste,  and  cheered  him  on  in  youth,  and  those  who  filled  the 
grand  reservoir  which  stands  as  the  fountain  head  of  all  the 
mischief — while  he  that  in  location  is  nearest,  i.  e.  he  that  fur- 
nished the  liquor  that  brought  death  to  a  fellow  mortal,  may 
be  the  least  guilty  of  the  whole  train.  Yet,  what  retailer  could 
escape  self-reproach  and  public  indignation  in  such  a  case  ? 
And  how  would  all  the  rest  rejoice  that  the  spirit  that  had  pro- 
duced so  horrid  a  result,  did  not  come  from  their  houses ; — 
though  every  man  knows  that  its  coming  from  one  house  rather 
than  another  is  a  mere  accident.     If  they  did  not  furnish  it, 


TEMPERANCE    SERMOX.  241 

they  -were  ready  to  do  it ;  and  had  the  miserable  man  laid  his 
money  on  their  counter,  they  would  have  been  in  the  place  of 
him  -whom  they  are  so  ready  to  blame. 

"We  condemn  ardent  spirit,  not  on  the  ground  that  it  here 
and  there  does  mischief,  but  that  it  is  fitted  for  every  evil  work, 
and  has  no  redeeming  qualities.  We  condemn  it  on  the  same 
ground  that  wc  condemn  sin.  Look  at  sin  generally — what 
has  it  done  ?  You  may  make  ever  so  black  a  catalogue,  still 
your  enumeration  is  nothing  to  what  it  can  do  and  will  do. 
We  see  but  a  very  small  portion  of  its  effects,  for  they  are  verj- 
gradually  developed.  Sin  is  reined  in  by  the  Almighty  power 
of  God.  So  of  ardent  spirit.  We  reprobate  it  not  merely  be- 
cause it  does  much  mischief,  but  because  its  capacity  for  mis- 
chief is  unbounded.  We  wonder  not  that  its  effects  are  so 
awful !  The  wonder  rather  is,  that  with  such  a  tremendous 
power,  they  are  not  unspeakably  more  so.  Let  God  withdraw 
bis  hand  and  suffer  ardent  spirit  to  produce  its  full  effect,  and 
earth  would  present  all  that  imagination  can  conceive  of  hell. 
And  every  man  who  deals  in  it,  or  favors  it,  helps  to  make 
earth  a  hell — by  tempting  men  to  break  through  all  restraint, 
and  tempting  God  to  withdraw  his  protection.  Especially  is 
this  the  case  with  the  maker  and  vender.  It  is  their  trade  to 
furnish  men  with  the  means  of  sinning.  They  live  upon  the 
ruin  of  their  fellow  creatures,  as  birds  of  prey  upon  the  car- 
casses of  the  slain,  and  their  only  apology  is,  "it  is  a  profitable 
business."  On  the  same  ground  it  would  be  a  profitable  busi- 
ness slily  to  kill  off  all  their  relations,  for  then  they  would  be 
sole  heirs — and  this,  in  effect,  they  do.  The  result  of  this 
narrow-minded  policy  has  been  the  ruin  of  their  dearest  rela- 
tions. Many  a  man,  by  trading  in  ardent  spirits  has  brought 
the  curse  of  God  upon  his  family — a  curse  like  that  which  fell 
21 


242  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

upon  him  who  buikled  Jericho: — "he  laid  the  foundation 
thereof  in  his  first-Lorn,  and  set  up  the  gates  thereof  in  his 
youngest  son,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord  which  he 
spake  by  Joshua."  Many  a  distiller  and  tavern-keeper  has 
commenced  and  consummated  his  business  just  in  this  way. 
He  commenced  it,  for  it  was  a  profitable  business,  and  has  car- 
ried it  on  to  the  wreck  of  his  whole  family.  Nor  has  the  mis- 
ery been  confined  to  his  family ;  it  has  extended  far  and  wide 
through  the  neighborhood,  and  the  more  decent  and  inviting 
the  establishment,  the  more  ruinous ;  for  all  this  gives  a  false 
coloring — makes  the  road  to  ruin  respectable.  The  distiller 
may  write  upon  his  door,  "  no  drinking  done  here,"  and  send 
miserable  drunkards  empty  away,  and  so  keep  quite  a  decent 
house,  and  quiet  his  conscience,  and  shield  himself  from  re- 
proach, yet  send  damnation  in  a  thousand  streams  all  about 
him.  Or  the  tavern-keeper  may  keep  no  bar,  and  like  a  hypo- 
crite keep  his  bottle  in  the  back  room,  where  in  secresy  and 
retirement  those  may  drink  who  would  be  ashamed  to  drink 
openly,  and  so,  under  cover,  he  furnishes  them  with  the  means 
of  sinning.  The  more  decent  and  inviting  the  appearance,  the 
greater  the  temptation,  and  the  greater  the  guilt  of  the  tempter. 
IV.  A  man  may  become  partaker  of  another's  sin  by  giv- 
ing  IT    A  GOOD  NAME,  OR  EXTENUATING  ITS  EVILS.       The  WOrld 

has  suffered  immensely  from  a  misapplication  of  words,  and  a 
woe  is  denounced  against  them  that  call  good,  evil,  and  evil, 
good — that  shame  a  good  thing  with  a  bad  name,  or  dress  out 
a  bad  thing  with  a  good  one.  Yet,  what  is  more  common  than 
to  call  things  by  other  than  their  proper  names,  and  thus  make 
them  appear  white  or  black  as  shall  suit  our  purpose.  If  men 
commit  crimes,  and  we  soften  them,  and  call  them  by  mild 
names,  we  encourage  the  crimes,  and  encourage  the  perpetra- 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  243 

tors  and  others  to  think  lightly  of  them.  As  far  as  we  ex-- 
tenuate  their  wickedness,  so  far  are  we  partakers  of  it.  We 
all  know  something  of  the  power  of  mere  words.  If  a  crime 
be  called  by  other  than  its  proper  name,  it  produces  no  such 
sensation  of  horror  as  the  crime  ought  to  produce.  How  differ- 
ently do  these  two  phrases,  "murder,"  and  "an  affair  of 
honor,"  strike  the  mind  1  and  how  different  are  the  trains  of 
thought  or  feeling  which  they  excite.  Yet  all  this  difference 
is  made  by  the  name  that  is  given.  He  who  is  disposed  to 
extenuate  sin  by  giving  it  mild  and  pleasant  names,  is  a  par- 
taker of  it,  and  the  partakers  in  this  way  are  not  few.  How 
often  are  men  of  contemptible  characters  made  to  appear  re- 
spectable by  the  mere  charm  of  words.  The  prodigal  is  called 
generous ;  the  miser,  economical ;  the  unforgiving,  honorable  ; 
the  deep  drinker,  good  natured  and  sociable;  and  even  the 
habitual  drunkard, 

"  Who  starves  his  own  !  who  persecutes  the  blood 
He  gave  them  in  his  children's  veins,  and  hates 
And  WTongs  the  woman  he  has  sworn  to  love," 

even  he  is  a  good  hearted,  companionable  creature,  and  means 
no  hurt,  and  injures  none  but  himself.  The  apologist  of 
crimes  is  a  partaker  of  their  enormity,  and  so  is  he  that  would 
make  them  common  by  removing  and  concealing  their  gross- 
ness.  With  what  flowers  has  the  path  of  dissipation  been 
strewn  !  what  enticement  which  genius  or  ingenuity  could  sup- 
ply, has  been  wanting?  How  have  the  good  words  of  the 
language  been  arranged  to  recommend  this  path,  and  a  monop- 
oly of  good  feeling  claimed  for  those  that  travel  it  I  It  is 
friendly  and  polite  to  drink  to  another,  and  it  is  unfriendly 
and  impolite  not  to  respond.     At  any  toast,  and  any  witty  say- 


-44  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

iog,  politeness  makes  the  same  demand.  Many  a  poet,  too, 
has  garnished  the  path  to  hell,  and  sung  the  praise  of  spirit  in 
melting  melodies.  Many  a  man  has  drank  for  friendship,  and 
more,  for  politeness.  Can  friendsliip  require  that  which  pro- 
duces quarrels,  or  politeness  that  which  insults  God  or  man? 
Why  abuse  words  so  egregiously?  It  is  time  things  were 
called  by  their  proper  names,  and  these  abused  words  restored 
to  their  proper  places.  It  is  time,  too,  that  all  those  places 
where  spirit  is  made  and  sold,  were  known  as  the  road  that 
leads  down  to  the  chambers  of  death ;  and  while  we  exercise 
all  conceivable  friendliness  towards  their  keepers,  and  use  every 
effort  to  withdraw  them  from  the  cursed  business,  let  us  not 
make  a  lie,  even  to  sustain  their  characters  or  save  their  feel- 
ings. Let  us  not  daub  with  untempered  mortar,  nor  besmear 
with  the  praise  of  honest,  and  honorable,  and  excellent  men, 
those  whose  very  trade  is  to  undermine  the  deep  foundations 
of  society,  to  destroy  the  hopes  of  men,  and  fit  immortal  souls 
for  the  bottomless  pit.  If  we  shrink  from  declaring  the  truth, 
and  use  art  to  excuse  the  maker,  and  vender,  and  user  of  spirit, 
we  are  partakers  of  their  sins. 

Y.  A  man  becomes  partaker  of  another's  sin  by  setting 
THE  EXAMPLE.  Very  few  men  have  originality  or  independ- 
ence of  mind  enough  to  strike  out  a  course  of  their  own ;  and 
fewer  still  to  pursue  it  under  the  direction  of  an  enlightened 
conscience.  Circumstances  have  an  immense  power  over  us. 
Our  good  and  our  bad  qualities  depend  very  much  upon  oth- 
ers, for  we  are  insensibly  fashioned  after  the  model.  Were  we 
inhabitants  of  a  desert,  we  might  act  on  our  single  responsi- 
bility. But  the  voice  of  God  has  declared,  "no  man  liveth 
to  himself."  We  are  jDlaced  in  the  midst  of  society,  and  have 
an  agency  in  forming  its  manners  and  morals.     None  are  with- 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON, 


245 


out  influence,  and  few  are  aware  of  the  extent  of  their  influ- 
ence. Practices  which  may  be  of  little  injury  to  us,  may  be 
ruinous  to  others — practices  which  they  would  forsake  if  we 
were  willing  to  set  the  example.  If  we  loved  God  or  man, 
should  not  we  set  this  example  rather  than  be  accessory  to  the 
ruin  of  a  fellow  creature?  "  Can  you  swim?"  was  a  ques- 
tion once  put  to  a  noted  religious  innovator.  He,  without  per- 
ceiving the  drift,  answered  in  the  afiirmative.  "  There  are 
thousands  following  you  into  deep  water  that  can't  swim,  and 
what  will  become  of  them?"  It  is  said  the  reformer  forgot 
his  speculations  and  discoveries  for  a  moment,  and  shed  tears, 
as  in  fancy  he  beheld  the  wreck.  Now,  admit  that  you  can 
swim  :  you  know  thousands  cannot — and  were  you  in  no  dan- 
ger, should  you  have  no  feeling  for  them  ?  Perhaps  no  single 
thing  has  done  more  to  sustain  intemperance  than  example, 
and  there  is  not  a  more  efficient  instrument  to  put  it  down. 
Every  one  that  uses  ardent  spirit  encourages  the  drunkard. 
They  are  both  in  the  same  path,  though  the  drunkard  is  a  little 
ahead.  The  only  difference  between  them  is  not  in  kind,  but 
in  degree.  This  every  drunkard  knows,  and  always  looks  up- 
on such  an  one  as  his  companion.  He  would  spurn  an  exhor- 
tation to  temperance  from  one  whose  example  affords  a  stand- 
ing apology  for  dissipation.  Many  an  unhappy  instance  of  this 
has  been  related.  In  former  times,  when  all  drank,  from  the 
preacher  up  or  down  through  the  whole  graduated  scale,  it  was 
no  easy  matter  to  stand  out  alone — to  resist  the  calls  of  appe- 
tite on  the  one  hand,  and  the  shame  of  wanting  self-command 
on  the  other.  We  are  told  a  story  of  this  kind.  A  man  had 
been  excluded  from  the  church  for  intemperance.  He  con- 
fessed his  sin,  and  resolved  to  "  put  a  knife  to  his  throat,"  and 
was  restored.  Some  time  after,  he  attended  a  public  sale, 
21* 


246  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

where  the  people  were  collected,  preacher  and  all,  and  whiskey 
was  circulated  as  usual.     He  knew  his  weakness :  but  could 
he  stand  out  alone,  and  thus  say  that  he  had  no  self-command 
— that  he  was  so  very  poor  a  wretch  tliat  he  could  not  take  an 
honest  dram  without  getting  drunk?     The  ring  was  formed, 
and  the  bottle  commenced  its  journey.     "Now,"  says  he  to 
himself,   "if  the  preacher  don't  drink,  I  won't."     Here  was 
the  last  hope.     He  could  not  bear  to  be  utterly  singular.     The 
"circulating  medium"    in   its  journey  at   la.st   reached   the 
preacher — and  he  tested  its  contents  with  as  little  hesitation, 
and  as  long  a  look  upward,  as  any  man  in  the  company.     The 
last  prop  to  resolution  has  failed  : — from  that  moment  the  un- 
happy man  seemed  to  have  given  over  all  thought  of  resistance, 
and  instead  of  waiting  for  the  bottle,  left  his  place  in  the  ring 
and  ran  to  meet  it — and  before  the  sun  went  down  had  lost  all 
power  of  locomotion.     Was  he  the  only  guilty  person  on  that 
ground  ?     Was  not  every  one,  and  especially  the  preacher,  a 
deep  partaker  of  his  sin?     Let  us  go  one  step  further,  and 
suppose  they  had  urged  him  to  drink,  and  when  he  refused, 
had  twitted  him  of  his  weakness,  and  appealed  to  his  pride  and 
his  shame,  and  thus  overcome  his  resistance,  and  made  him 
drunk.     Who  has  not  heard  cases  of  this  kind?     Let  me  men- 
tion one — of  a  young  man,  proud,   ambitious,  aspiring,  and 
with  talents,  too,  far  above  the  common  order.     Few  have  set 
out  in  life  with  higher  character,  or  higher  prospects.     The 
only  drawback  was  this  fatal  propensity.     He  knew  that  he 
must  drink  deep,  or  touch  not,  and  he  determined  upon  the 
latter ;  and  to  strengthen  his  resolution,   and  make  security 
doubly  sure,   and  withal  to  prevent  suspicion,    (for  he  was 
ashamed  of  this  apparent  want  of  self-command,)  he  went  all 
lengths  against  drunkards  and  drunkenness.     Language  was 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  247 

too  poor  to  furnish  adequate  expression  of  his  abhorrence. 
One  evening  in  the  company  of  his  merry  associates,  he  was 
urged  to  drink,  as  usual,  and,  as  usual,  refused.  All  the  com- 
mon arguments  were  used  in  vain.  At  length,  one  of  the  com- 
pany in  a  taunting  manner  alluded  to  his  want  of  self-com- 
mand. "  He  dares  not  drink  !  for  he  knows  he  cannot  drink 
without  getting  drunk."  The  secret  is  out,  and  the  appeal  is 
irresistible.  He  dares  do  any  thing.  He  has  defended  his 
character  on  one  side  by  abstinence,  and  an  extreme  contempt 
for  drunkards  and  drunkenness.  And  now  it  is  assailed  on 
the  other ;  pride,  shame,  appetite,  all  urge  him  to  drink,  and 
vindicate  his  character — to  drink,  and  not  let  it  appear  that  he 
shunned  and  despised  drunkards  in  self-defence.  That  even- 
ing he  was  drunk,  and,  to  all  human  appearance,  that  evening 
settled  his  destiny.  I  knew  him  well.  Many  a  year  has  rolled 
round  since  that  fatal  evening — an  evening  so  fatal  to  the  pros- 
pects of  an  amiable  wife,  and  the  hopes  of  an  extensive  con- 
nexion. In  the  progress  of  these  years  there  have  been  many 
temporary  reformations,  and  those  that  loved  him  have  had 
their  hopes  raised  only  to  be  withered  by  a  deadlier  blight,  and 
the  last  intelligence  told  that  he  was  on  the  borders  of  the 
grave.  And  who  is  responsible  for  all  these  blighted  hopes 
and  perverted  powers  ?  Who  has  made  him  a  disgrace  to  his 
kindred,  and  a  curse  to  society?  Let  us  not  excuse  him. 
But  will  he  perish  alone  in  his  iniquity  ?  If  the  man  who  per- 
suaded him  to  drink  had  planted  a  dagger  in  his  bosom,  it 
would  have  been  an  act  of  charity  in  comparison  to  what  he 
did.  He  has  made  him  die  a  thousand  deaths.  This  is  not  a 
solitary  case.  Hundreds  are  circumstanced  just  as  he  was. 
A  bad  example  may  ruin  them ;  then  how  much  more  a  regular 
effort,  or  a  taunting  speech  to  remove  their  scruples.     No  man 


248  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

who  uses  or  advocates  the  use  of  ardent  spirit,  can  escape  be- 
ing partaker  of  other  men's  sins.  God  has  placed  us  in  socie- 
ty, and  has  given  us  an  influence  there.  Now,  if  we  take  our 
own  course,  and  do  what  pleases  us,  regardless  of  others,  we 
may  as  well  escape  death  as  escape  responsibility. 

But  there  is  one  class  whose  bad  example  is  specially  fatal. 
I  mean  professors  of  religion  and  members  of  temperance  socie- 
ties ;  and  wo  to  them  if  men  are  encouraged  to  drink  by  their 
example.  The  bad  example  of  others  aggravates  the  disease, 
they  slander  and  vilify  the  remedy.  For  no  remedy  for  in- 
temperance has  ever  yet  been  discovered  but  temperance  socie- 
ties, and  the  grace  of  God.  Of  the  efficacy  of  these  remedies, 
those  who  have  tried  them  should  give  living  demonstration. 
Now,  if  they  can  take  a  little  slily,  or  when  they  are  abroad  ; 
if  they  can  deal  in  it  "  not  openly,  but,  as  it  were,  in  secret," 
they  slander  these  remedies  as  quack  medicine,  and  spread  de- 
spair of  all  relief.  They  tell  us  that  neither  the  principle  of 
religion  nor  the  pledge  of  honor  has  power  to  bind  men.  And 
if  these  will  not  bind,  what  can  ?  Are  there  such  cases  here  ? 
Is  it  the  voice  of  slander  or  of  truth,  that  declares  that  mem- 
bers of  this  society  do  drink  slily  at  home,  and  openly  abroad  ? 
I  know  the  enemy  is  on  the  alert,  ready  to  take  advantage  of 
the  least  sign  of  faltering.  I  know  also  that  many  opposers  of 
the  cause  are  not  scrupulous  about  the  means,  and  I  would  be 
slow  to  believe  their  report,  that  any  man  has  forfeited  his  hon- 
or, or  that  there  is  so  mean  and  unprincipled  a  wretch  among 
us — for  mean  and  unprincipled  such  an  one  must  be,  and  des- 
titute of  the  common  qualities  of  a  man.  And  the  principal 
danger  to  the  society,  I  apprehend,  arises  from  this  quarter. 
But  the  society  cannot  be  crushed.  Its  supporters  are  strong 
and  many,  and  opposition  from  without  settles  it  firmer  on  its 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  249 

foundations.  Yet,  it  may  become  an  unwieldly  mass,  and  fall 
of  its  own  weight.  Men  may  learn  to  trifle  with  their  honor, 
and  by  joining  a  temperance  society,  only  add  hypocrisy  to 
their  other  sins.  Let  ns  beware.  And  let  any  member  who 
violates  his  solemn  pledge  recollect,  that  he  speaks  lies  in  hy- 
pocrisy. We  wish  those  who  join  to  have  a  full  view  of  the 
evils  of  spirit  drinking,  and  to  join  from  a  deliberate  purpose 
in  every  way  to  discountenance  it,  and  to  join  from  a  sense  of 
interest  and  duty  combined,  and  thus  hold  on  to  the  utmost 
and  the  end.  And  if  men  are  found  acting  the  hypocrite  in 
this  matter,  it  is  but  justice  to  this  society  to  expose  them,  and 
thus  show  the  world  that  we  are  no  more  patrons  of  hypocrisy 
than  drunkenness.  Oh,  what  a  responsibility  is  ours,  if,  after 
having  solemnly  covenanted  to  stand  aloof  from  this  deadly 
pestilence,  we  are  found  connected  with  it  as  appetite,  or  inter- 
est, or  custom  prompts.  Let  us  remember  that  a  defect  here 
is  peculiarly  glaring — "  a  spot  upon  a  vestal's  robe,  the  worse 
for  what  it  stains." 

YI.  A  man  may  become  partaker  of  another's  sin  by  con- 
nivance. Every  law  requires  not  merely  a  ceasing  from  evil, 
but  an  actual  doing  of  good.  He  that  does  nothing  is  a  trans- 
gressor, and  the  plea  that  he  has  done  no  hurt,  will  never  be 
admitted,  for  it  is  not  true.  He  has  done  hurt,  in  letting  evils 
take  their  course  when  he  might  have  arrested  them.  No  man 
who  has  power  to  offer  the  least  resistance  to  iniquity,  can  hon- 
estly stand  aside  and  let  its  current  roll  on.  He  that  connives 
at  wickedness,  is  a  partaker  of  it.  A  variety  of  motives  may 
induce  him  to  do  this.  He  dares  not  risk  his  popularity  by 
taking  any  decisive  steps  to  resist  evil ;  or  he  dares  not  meet 
the  anger  of  those  who  perpetrate  it,  and  though  he  disapproves 
of  the  evil,  he  equally  disapproves  of  all  means  to  remove  it, 


250 


REV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 


and  contents  himself  with  a  sorrow  that  things  are  so,  (which 
by  the  way  does  not  render  him  very  unhappy,)  and  a  lazy 
wish  that  they  were  otherwise.  How  common  is  this !  Who 
does  not  count  a  licensed  drinking  house  a  public  nuisance  and 
a  curse  ?  Look  at  its  inmates,  and  its  influence.  No  one  can 
think  of  the  misery  which  emanates  from  such  an  establishment 
without  a  feeling  of  horror  !  But  the  keeper  pursues  his  business 
with  a  clear  conscience,  for  he  is  licensed  according  to  law ; 
and  if  any  evil  arises  from  it,  it  rests  not  on  him,  but  on  those 
who  are  appointed  to  watch  for  the  public  good.  He  sells  just 
in  the  way  of  trade,  and  he  is  regularly  licensed.  If  he  allures 
the  young  to  his  shop,  and  initiates  them  into  all  its  abomina- 
tions, what  of  that !  he  is  regularly  licensed.  Here  hopes  are 
blighted ;  here  parents  forget  natural  affection,  and  children 
spurn  parental  restraint;  here  death  reigns  and  revels,  and 
who  cares  for  that  ?  The  shop  is  licensed  according  to  law. 
Can  a  man,  for  a  sum  of  money,  legally  claim  license  for  such 
an  establishment?  If  so,  those  who  give  it,  when  they  have 
gone  to  the  extent  of  the  law,  are  not  responsible.  If  the  law 
has  left  the  licensing  optional,  then  those  who  give  it  are  part- 
ners in  the  business  ; — little  as  they  may  get  of  its  profits,  they 
are  partakers  of  its  guilt.  The  license,  in  effect,  gives  leave 
to  make  as  many  drunkards  as  possible,  and  they  who  give  it 
when  they  might  withhold  it,  say,  "  Go  on  and  prosper,  and 
the  Lord  deliver  them  into  your  hands."  No  doubt,  in  this 
way  a  clamor  is  avoided,  and  they  are  called  liberal  and  gen- 
erous, and  they  console  themselves,  that,  though  it  was  wrong, 
they  could  not  well  help  it.  We  have  an  instance  on  record 
of  one  in  authority,  who  dreaded  to  be  unpopular,  and  who 
suffered  his  better  judgment  to  be  overcome  by  importunity. 
He   knew   his   duty,    but    lacked   resolution   to   perform   it. 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  251 

"  Take  ye  him,"  said  he,  "and  judge  liim  according  to  your 
law,  for  I  find  no  fimlt  in  him.  But  when  Pilate  saw  that  he 
could  prevail  nothing,  but  that  rather  a  tumult  was  made,  he 
took  water  and  washed  his  hands  before  the  multitude,  saying, 
I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just  person."  "  We  wash 
our  hands  of  the  wretched  business,"  say  those  who  license 
such  establishments.  Does  this  disclaimer  dissolve  the  connec- 
tion, and  free  them  from  the  charge  of  blood  ;  even  though  the 
retailers  should  agree,  as  in  the  other  case,  to  pocket  the  re- 
sponsi])ility  with  the  profits  ?  This  may  seem  hard  upon  men 
in  authority,  and  infringe  upon  the  good  rule,  not  to  speak  evil 
of  dignities.  I  am  aware  of  the  peculiarity  of  their  situation 
as  agents  of  the  public,  and  that  they  can  detain  but  a  little 
while  what  the  public  voice  demands ;  and  that  blame  is  fre- 
quently east  upon  them  which  belongs  in  another  quarter. 
You  go  by  one  of  these  licensed  abominations,  and  curse  those 
who  licensed  them,  and  lay  all  the  censure  at  their  doors. 
Have  you  done  what  lies  in  your  power  to  abate  the  nuisance  ? 
You  call  them  Pilates,  and  can  you  forget  that  even  Pilate 
wished  to  do  right  ?  Admitting  them  to  be  Pilates,  then,  who 
knows  but  a  few  more  voices  will  encourage  them  to  banish  the 
curse  ?  They  are  agents,  and  you  are  some  of  those  in  whose 
behalf  they  act.  Have  you  ever  taken  a  decided  stand,  and 
thus  let  them  know  your  wish  upon  this  subject  ?  Multitudes 
have  done  so.  Your  names  may  turn  the  scale.  It  may  de- 
pend upon  you,  whether  this  curse  shall  remain,  or  be  swept 
away.  A  combination  is  formed  to  strengthen  the  hands  of 
every  good  man,  and  to  remove  one  of  the  most  intolerable 
evils  from  the  land.  You  are  perfectly  temperate,  and  you 
ask,  what  is  it  to  you  ?  And  you  do  nothing,  neither  oppose 
nor  advocate.     You  see  its  victims  prostrate  in  the  dust ;  you 


'J.0'1  KEV.    D.    MERRILL  S    SERMONS. 

hear  the  wailings  of  thousands  of  thousands,  and  you  do  noth- 
ing to  sustain  the  standing  or  raise  the  fallen — or  shut  up  the 
flood  gates  of  misery.  You  see  the  traveler  wounded  and  half 
dead,  and,  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  impenetrable  selfishness,  you 
just  pass  by  on  the  other  side.  Remember  that  the  "  cursed  " 
at  the  last  day,  are  those  who  grudged  the  trouble  and  expense 
of  kindness.  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  not  done,"  kc  He 
that  stands  aloof  from  a  temperance  society,  connives  at  the 
sins  of  the  drunkard,  and  at  all  the  misery  and  mischief  which 
ardent  spirit  is  producing  through  the  land.  Whatever  he  may 
be  personally,  he  helps  their  cause.  It  is  time  every  man 
knew  where  he  stood.  There  is  no  neutrality  here.  "  For  to 
him  that  knoweth  to  do  good  and  doeth  it  not,  to  him  it  is  sin.'' 
Thus  we  are  situated ;  a  thousand  chords  vibrate  at  our  touch ; 
the  weal  or  woe  of  thousands  is  connected  with  the  course  we 
take.  If  we  encourage  them  by  our  applause  or  advice — if  we 
speak  lightly  of  their  wickedness,  or  furnish  them  with  the 
means  of  sinning — if  we  strengthen  them  by  our  example,  or 
connive  at  their  doings — we  are  partakers  of  their  sins.  There 
is  no  way  to  escape  it,  but  to  come  out  from  among  them  and 
be  separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing.  He  that  refuses 
to  do  this,  may  wash  his  hands  and  proclaim  his  innocence,  or 
he  may  thank  his  stars  that  he  is  not  a  slave  to  appetite.  But 
God  will  not  hold  him  guiltless,  for  he  is  accessory  to  the  ruin 
of  his  fellow  men,  and  bids  the  pestilence  God  speed. 

I  need  not  expatiate  upon  the  evils  which  ardent  spirit  has 
produced.  Of  the  enormity  of  these  evils,  you  have  heard 
from  the  lips  of  experience.  Many  of  you  have  seen  in  real 
life,  what  no  language  can  adequately  describe.  You  have 
heard  of  the  numbers  bound  to  the  car  of  Juggernaut,  and  of 
thirty  thousand  yearly  immolated  victims.     You  have  heard  of 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  253 

tlie  expense,  of  the  quarrels,  lawsuits,  imprisonments,  diseases, 
and  capital  punishments,  that  follow  in  its  train.  You  have 
heard,  too,  of  the  efforts  made  in  former  days,  to  stay  its  deso- 
lations, hy  pronouncing  anathemas  upon  drunkards  and  drun- 
kenness. And  you  have  seen  the  ahortiveness  of  all  such  at- 
tempts. For  who  was  ever  reclaimed  ?  The  tide  rolled  on, 
carrying  with  its  current,  ten  thousand  wrecks.  Multitudes 
looked  upon  the  wrecks,  and  pitied,  and  mourned,  and  cast  re- 
proach. But  they  could  no  more  stop  the  current,  than  they 
could  prevent  the  deluge  when  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep 
were  broken  up.  The  absurdity  of  all  such  efforts  is  now  man- 
ifest. It  was  building  without  foundation  ;  it  was  laboring  at 
the  streams  while  the  fountains  were  suffered  to  pour  forth  death 
unchecked.  Unhappy  men  were  suffered  to  float  merrily  on 
unwarned,  till  they  were  past  recovery.  The  syren  song  of 
"no  danger,"  was  sung  till  appetite  had  gained  the  complete 
ascendancy,  and  habit  had  become  fixed  and  inveterate.  And 
then,  as  if  to  make  up  for  all  deficiency,  they  were  assailed  on 
every  side  with  exhortations,  and  entreaties,  and  curses  ;  and 
thus  the  last  hope  of  reformation  was  cut  off.  They  were  en- 
couraged to  drink,  by  applause,  or  advice,  or  extenuation,  or 
example ;  and  now  men  turn  up  their  eyes  and  wonder  that 
they  are  drunkards.  And  truly  it  is  a  most  astonishing  affair  I 
that  men  so  much  encouraged  to  drink  should  become  drunk- 
ards ! !  How  should  they  become  any  thing  else  ?  The 
trial  has  been  thoroughly  made,  sufficient  to  show  that  the  evil 
could  not  be  corrected  in  that  way.  Another  method  has  been 
discovered — to  enlighten  the  public  mind,  to  remove  tempta- 
tion, to  abolish  all  occasion  for  drinking,  and  thus  prevent  the 
manufacture  of  drunkards.     This  is  the  last  hope.     If  it  fails, 

we  may  give  up  the  cause  and  resign  ourselves  to  despair. 
•22 


254  nKv.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

13ut  it  will  not  fail.  The  Goil  of  heaven  will  prosper  us.  In 
such  a  cause,  we  wish  the  assistance  and  countenance  of  all. 
Each  in  his  place  can  render  an  essential  service,  and  who  that 
loves  God  or  man  will  not  do  it  ?  We  do  not  ask  it  as  an  act 
of  charity,  (though  in  a  certain  sense  it  is  so,)  but  as  an  act  of 
duty  to  God  and  justice  to  men,  and  as  the  only  means  of  es- 
caping a  most  fearful  and  tremendous  responsibility.  And 
every  one  who  refuses,  is  a  partaker  of  otlicr  men's  sins. 

Of  the  guilt  and  misery  of  the  drunkard,  most  of  us  have 
heard  in  full  tale  ;  but  how  shall  we  depict  the  guilt  of  his 
partners  ?  Who  has  not  seen  that  miserable  man  in  the  Alma- 
nac, thrust  through  with  a  dart  from  every  sign  in  the  zodiac. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  celestial  powers  were  combined  for  his 
destruction.  This  unhappy  man,  suppose,  is  the  drunkard, 
and  these  darts  that  transfix  him  are  all  of  earthly  origin,  and 
sent  from  human  hands,  and  as  he  lies  thus  pinned  to  the 
ground,  his  enemies  stand  about  him  in  many  a  grizzly  form, 
and  in  the  name  of  death,  their  master,  triumph  over  him. 
There  stands  the  distiller,  and  he  that  furnishes  the  grain — 
honorable  men  !  each  with  a  javelin  fixed  in  his  hand.  A  lit- 
tle lower  may  be  seen  the  physician,  on  the  one  side,  prescrib- 
ing spirit,  and  the  moderate  drinker  on  the  other,  making  a 
most  feeling  application  to  his  stomach.  Next  stands  the  ap- 
plauder,  appealing  to  his  pride  and  love  of  distinction,  while 
over  against  him  stands  the  merchant  with  his  gallon  measure, 
offering  opportunity  to  test  the  capacity  of  his  stomach  and  the 
extent  of  his  ambition ;  while  the  landlord  and  grocery  keeper 
trip  up  his  heels  and  pin  him  to  the  earth,  that  he  may  never 
rise  again  ;  and  imagination  can  trace  in  the  distance  an  im- 
mense group  of  all  who  for  various  reasons  will  not  join  a  tem- 
perance society,  standing  round  to  see  the  sport.     Let  this 


TEMPERANCE    SERMON.  -00 

pass  for  a  true  explanation  of  that  famous  picture  -whicli  adorns 
the  second  page  of  the  Ahuanac,  and  I  trust  that  every  man, 
when  he  sees  this  picture  of  a  human  being  pierced  with  a 
dozen  javelins,  will  remember  the  unhappy  lot  of  the  drunkard 
— to  compass  whose  death  so  many  are  combined.  And  how 
can  he  escape  such  a  host  of  enemies  ?  Now,  if  we  can  per- 
suade or  shame  the  whole  dozen  to  retire  and  let  him  recover 
— or  what  is  better,  if  we  can  persuade  them  not  to  bring  an- 
other human  being  into  this  miserable  predicament,  the  work 
is  done.  But  in  vain  do  we  intreat  or  curse  the  drunkard, 
while  we  suffer  these  twelve  sons  of  Anak  to  hold  him  fast. 
And  the  great  object  of  our  society  is  to  persuade  these  men  to 
cease  conspiring  and  compassing  the  death  of  their  fellow  men. 
If  you  would  know  the  evils  of  drunkenness — evils  to  which 
so  many  are  accessory,  and  for  which  so  many  must  answer — 
think  what  of  evil  it  has  done,  and  what  of  good  it  has  pre- 
vented. Compare  the  condition  of  any  drunkard  with  what, 
but  for  ardent  spirit,  it  might  have  been.  There  is  poverty, 
and  wretchedness,  and  cjuarreling ;  a  heart-broken  wife ;  a 
dispirited  and  disgraced  family ;  character  gone,  and  health 
going  with  it ;  a  heart  embittered  against  God  and  man,  and 
every  day  increasing  in  all  that  is  opposite  to  heaven, — a  hu- 
man being  becoming  more  and  more  divested  of  humanity,  till 
forsaken  of  God  and  despised  by  men,  he  dies  unregretted,  and 
appears  before  his  Maker.  But  for  ardent  spirit,  there  might 
have  been  the  opposite  of  all  this ; — a  comfortable  habitation 
and  flourishing  family — respectability  abroad  and  the  voice  of 
rejoicing  and  salvation  at  home — the  favor  of  God,  and  a  hope 
full  of  immortality.  What  a  contrast  I  Go,  ye  men  of  blood, 
to  the  wretched  habitation,  and  behold  your  work  !  You  urged 
him  to  drink — you  defied  him  to  drink ;  you  ridiculed  sober 


256  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

men;  you  encouraged  him  by  your  example  and  applause. 
For  any  little  ailment  you  advised  him  to  drink.  You  sold 
liim  the  poison,  and  thus  made  gain  of  his  ungodliness.  You 
have  helped  him  ruin  him.self,  abuse  his  family,  disgrace  his 
connexions.  You  have  helped  him  to  cover  his  past  history 
with  shame,  and  to  cast  a  mantle  of  sackcloth  over  the  future. 
Had  you  done  your  duty,  all  this  sin  and  wretchedness  would 
have  had  no  existence.  And  now  you  take  airs,  and  pity  the 
poor  fool,  and  wonder  at  his  excesses.  You  rowed  him  into 
the  midst  of  the  stream,  and  cried  "  bravo  I  "  and  "well 
done!"  as  he  passed  one  landing  place  after  another.  Now 
he  is  in  the  vortex  and  has  become  dizzy  in  the  whirl — now 
you  urge  him  to  land,  and  call  his  enterprise  a  mad  one,  and 
talk  of  character  and  family — perhaps  of  Christ  and  salvation. 
But  he  hears  not.  His  head  turns  with  the  current,  and  a 
continual  sound  is  in  his  ears,  and  the  sea  and  sky  are  mingled  ; 
and  in  a  little  time  his  frail  bark  sinks,  and  the  voice  of  a 
brother's  blood  cries  to  heaven  for  vengeance.  For  his  blood 
will  be  rerpired  at  your  hands. 

It  is  on  these  grounds  that  we  ask  you  to  join  a  Temperance 
Society,  and  be  no  more  accessory  to  the  ruin  of  your  fellow 
men.  If  they  will  perish,  let  them  no  longer  have  your  en- 
couragement or  countenance.  Your  own  interest,  the  good  of 
your  fellow  men,  the  safety  of  the  country,  demand  this  of  you ; 
and  if  you  cannot  make  this  little  sacrifice  to  support  such  in- 
terests, what  claim  can  you  have  to  the  name  of  patriot,  or  of 
saint  ? 


SERMON  XVII. 

THE  GREAT  SALVATION. 
How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation.    Hebrews  ii.  3. 

Instruction  is  never  given  in  the  Bible  merely  to  gratify 
curiosity.  Nor  is  its  end  answered  by  simply  enlightening  the 
mind.  That  is  necessary  as  a  means  to  an  end.  But  the 
great  design  is,  to  affect  the  heart  and  influence  the  conduct. 
Truth  is  in  order  to  goodness,  therefore  it  is  accompanied  by 
a  personal  application  to  the  heart  and  conscience.  AVhen  the 
apostle  shows  the  superiority  of  Christ  to  Moses — of  the  Chris- 
tian dispensation  to  the  Jewish — it  is  to  urge  upon  those  who 
live  under  these  superior  privileges,  and  this  clearer  light,  their 
more  fearful  responsibility.  If  "he  that  despised  Moses'  law 
died  without  mercy  under  two  or  three  witnesses  ;  of  how  much 
sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall  he  be  thought  worthy  who 
hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son  of  God  ?  "  If  they  escaped 
not  who  refused  him  that  spake  on  earth,  how  much  more  shall 
not  we  escape,  if  we  turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh  from 
heaven?  "If  the  word  spoken  by  angels  was  steadfast,  and 
every  transgression  and  disobedience  received  a  just  recom- 
pense of  reward ;  how  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation  ?  "  If  under  less  light  and  fewer  privileges,  they  did 
not  escape,  but  lust  then  conceived  and  brought  forth  sin,  and 
sin  when  finished,  brought  forth  death,  will  sin  be  less  deadly 
with  more  warnings  against  it,  and  when  the  more  clear  and 
manifest  way  of  escape  is  neglected  ?  Here  is  an  appeal  to 
22* 


258  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

every  man's  judgment  and  forecast,  to  every  man's  heart  and 
conscience.  The  text  presents  the  fact  of  a  great  salvation, 
and  an  inquiry  founded  upon  that  fact.  "  How  shall  we  escape, 
if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation."  Let  us  turn  our  attention 
to  this  salvation,  and  see  how  great  it  is. 

I.  Its  greatness  is  manifest  from  the  greatness  of  the 
RUIN.  The  remedy  must  needs  be  great  to  meet  the  necessity 
of  the  case.  *'  God  made  man  upright;  but  they  have  sought 
out  many  inventions."  *' Every  imagination  of  the  thoughts 
of  his  heart  was  only  evil  continually."  Man  has  sunk  from 
the  high  state  in  which  his  Creator  placed  him,  to  the  depths 
of  shame  and  infamy.  There  is  no  midway  between  right  and 
wrong.  In  departing  from  God  there  is  no  stopping  place. 
Sin  has  sent  its  pestilential  influence  through  all  the  powers 
and  faculties  of  the  soul.  The  heart  made  according  to  the 
heart  of  God,  is  now  the  reverse  of  it — a  sink  of  inordinate  af- 
fections, a  store-house  of  all  impiety.  The  very  mind  and  con- 
science are  defiled.  The  will  is  perverse,  the  passions  blind, 
the  choice,  the  judgment,  the  purposes,  the  devices,  the  desires 
are  wrong.  Though  often  changing,  it  is  only  from  evil  to 
evil, — from  one  wrong  choice  or  purpose  to  another.  The 
heart  is  continually  framing  something,  but  no  right  thing — 
nothing  good  and  acceptable  to  God.  As  the  heart  is  the  re- 
verse of  the  heart  of  God,  so  it  is  excited  and  animated  by  in- 
fluences and  motives  adverse  to  him.  It  is  under  the  influence 
of  "  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that  now 
worketh  in  the  children  of  disobedience  " — evil,  only  evil,  evil 
continually,  all  of  a  piece  and  all  wrong.  Such  is  man's  heart 
in  the  view  of  him  who  sees  things  as  they  are.  "  There  is 
none  righteous,  no,  not  one ;  there  is  none  that  understandeth, 
there  is  none  that  seeketh   after  God.     They  are  all   gone  out 


THE    GREAT    SALVATION.  259 

cf  the  way,  they  are  together  become  unprofitable  ;  there  is 
none  that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one.  .  .  .  Their  feet  are 
swift  to  shed  blood.  Destruction  and  misery  are  in  their  ways ; 
and  the  way  of  peace  have  they  not  known.  There  is  no  fear 
of  God  before  their  eyes."  Casting  off  the  authority  of  the 
Most  High,  and  breaking  loose  from  their  place  in  his  system, 
they  are  "  wandering  stars,  to  whom  is  reserved  the  blackness 
of  darkness  forever."  As  the  first  great  commandment  does 
not  direct  and  control  them,  neither  does  that  which  is  like 
unto  it.  When  the  law  of  love  to  God  was  east  off,  the  law  of 
love  to  man  could  not  retain  its  power.  Both  sunk  together. 
So  little  influence  have  these  laws  upon  the  natural  heart,  that 
they  are  scarcely  thought  of  or  recognized  as  laws.  No  man 
in  a  state  of  nature  expects  to  obey  them,  or  that  his  fellow 
men  will  obey  them.  He  is  under  other  laws,  influenced  by 
other  motives,  and  he  expects  the  same  of  his  fellow  men.  In 
all  his  dealings  with  them,  he  takes  it  for  granted  that  neither 
the  love  of  God  nor  the  love  of  man  has  any  authority  over 
them.  If  he  would  influence  them,  he  must  appeal  to  other 
motives — to  another  spirit.  The  whole  framework  of  society, 
and  all  its  laws  and  regulations,  imply  the  utter  absence  of  the 
law  of  love.  The  very  constitution  of  society  supposes  this. 
He  that  overlooks  the  fact  of  depravity,  and  acts  as  if  it  were 
a  fable,  is  in  the  eyes  of  all  men  a  simpleton.  His  imagina- 
tion and  dreams  have  run  away  with  his  common  sense.  The 
world  which  he  fancies,  is  a  very  different  matter  from  this 
every  day,  matter-of-fact  world  in  which  he  lives.  This  is  the 
fatal  defect  of  the  community  system.  It  supposes  a  purity  of 
intention,  an  uprightness  of  heart,  and  a  regard  for  right,  which 
have  no  existence.  Every  experiment  of  the  kind  has  shown 
out  this  fatal  mistake.     They  have  had  confidence  in  man,  and 


260  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

have  been  disappointed.  Tlicy  have  supposed  him  to  be  what 
he  is  not,  but  have  found  him  to  be  what  he  really  is — true  to 
his  fallen  nature.  And  that  is  the  only  truth  from  which  the 
natural  man  never  deviates.  He  follows  divers  lusts  and 
pleasures,  even  as  he  is  led,  being  "carnal,  sold  under  sin." 
He  yields  his  "members  servants  to  uncleanness  and  to  iniqui- 
ty, unto  iniquity."  "The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
and  desperately  wicked  ;  who  can  know  it  ?  "  Loose  from 
God  and  holiness,  it  is  "like  a  troubled  sea,  when  it  cannot 
rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  There  is  no  peace 
saith  my  God  to  the  wicked" — no  settled,  lasting  peace. 
There  is  no  consciousness  of  integrity  to  sustain  them  in  the 
hour  of  trial.  Their  hearts  condemn  them.  And  the  condem- 
nation of  their  hearts  is  but  an  earnest  and  assurance  of  the 
greater  condemnation  of  him  that  knoweth  all  things..  Now, 
such  a  state  of  the  race — such  a  universal  prevalence  of  wick- 
edness— required  a  great  salvation.  Such  utter  perversion 
could  be  remedied  by  a  great  salvation  only.  If  man  is  re- 
stored to  his  right  mind — to  the  right  use  of  his  powers,  and  to 
his  right  position  before  God,  it  must  be  a  great  salvation. 
The  very  depth  and  completeness  of  their  ruin  made  this  in- 
dispensable. 

II.  The  value  of  man  required  a  great  salvation.  All 
God's  creatures  have  value  in  his  account,  but  not  the  same 
value.  All  do  not  have  the  same  capacities,  and  hold  the  same 
relation  to  him.  Some  are  made  subordinate  to  others,  and 
have  their  value  in  their  place,  but  are  not  of  equal  value  with 
those  to  whom  they  are  subordinate.  "  Are  not  two  sparrows 
sold  for  a  farthing  ?  and  one  of  them  shall  not  fall  on  the 
ground  without  your  Father.  Fear  ye  not,  therefore,  ye  are 
of  more  value  than  many  sparrows."     The  earth  was  made  to 


THE    GREAT    SALVATION.  261 

fce  inhabited,  and  subservient  to  the  use  of  its  inhabitants — in- 
habitants of  various  kinds,  subordinate,  kind  after  kind,  to  each 
other,  and  all,  to  man.  To  him  was  given  dominion  over  the 
whole ; — he  was  made  lord  of  the  world — all  owing  allegiance 
to  him,  he  only  to  God.  To  fit  him  for  this  high  station,  he 
was  made  in  the  image  of  God — after  his  likeness.  God 
*•  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life  ;  and  man  became 
a  living  soul" — the  representative  of  God  on  earth,  the  regent 
of  all  creatures  here,  to  show  forth  tlie  glory  of  God,  and  with 
mind  and  heart  to  speak  his  praises.  All  things  were  put 
under  his  feet,  and  he  was  crowned  with  glory  and  honor. 
The  wo7'st  results  from  the  perversion  of  the  best.  The  more 
excellent  and  valuable  in  its  original,  the  more  difficult  to  re- 
store from  its  perversion.  Man's  high  station,  at  the  head  of 
creation,  and  his  immraortal  and  intelligent  existence,  after  the 
image  of  God,  only  made  the  difficulty  in  the  way  of  his  resto- 
ration the  greater.  His  redemption  had  been  easier,  had  his 
value  been  less.  What  is  worth  little  should  cost  little.  But 
what  shall  redeem  an  immortal  soul  ?  Where  shall  an  ade- 
quate price  be  found  ?  The  high  station,  and  exalted  powers, 
and  immortal  existence  of  man,  rendered  a  great  salvation  in- 
dispensable— made  every  thing  else  unavailing.  Corruptible 
things,  as  gold  and  silver,  cannot  redeem,  for  they  bear  no  pro- 
portion in  value.  For  the  same  reason,  inferior  creatures  can- 
not make  an  atonement,  and  purchase  redemption.  Yet  sacri- 
fices have  ever  been  offered,  and  blood  poured  upon  God's  altar. 
Behold  the  Jew  coming  with  his  offering  to  the  door  of  the  tab- 
ernacle. He  lays  his  hand  upon  its  head  and  confesses  his  sin. 
The  beast  is  slain  for  him,  and  its  blood  sprinkled  upon  the 
altar.  But  no  atonement  is  made,  no  soul  redeemed,  no  con- 
science cleansed.     The  soul  is  worth  too  much  to  be  redeemed 


-G2  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

at  such  a  price.  See  the  heatlien.  The  altar  has  already 
smoked  with  the  blood  of  beasts,  but  there  is  no  quiet  to  the 
soul  of  the  offerer.  He  conies  now  with  a  costlier  sacrifice — 
his  only  and  best-ho\o\cd  son,  "  the  fruit  of  his  body  for  the 
sin  of  his  soul."  But  man  cannot  thus  "  redeem  his  brother, 
nor  give  to  God  a  ransom  for  him."  The  very  worth  of  man 
in  God's  account  required  a  costlier  sacrifice.  And  a  costlier 
sacrifice  has  been  made.  We  "  are  not  redeemed  with  cor- 
ruptible things,  as  silver  and  gold."  "  The  brightness  of  his 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  takes  to  himself 
our  nature,  and  in  that  nature  offered  himself  a  sacrifice  to  God 
for  us.  The  blood  of  Christ  is  the  price  of  the  soul's  redemp- 
tion. "  By  his  own  blood,  he  entered  in  once  into  the  holy 
place,  having  obtained  eternal  redemption  for  us."  We  are 
bought  with  a  price,  and  that  price  meets  the  value  of  the  soul. 
It  shows  how  high  an  estimate  God  sets  upon  the  living  soul, 
made  in  his  image  and  after  his  likeness.  The  very  price 
shows  the  greatness  of  the  salvation.  A  salvation  at  such  a 
price  is  beyond  conception  great  and  glorious. 

III.  The  interest  which  it  excites  proves  the  salvation 
to  be  great.  No  sooner  was  sin  introduced  to  earth  by  man's 
disobedience,  than  his  attention  was  turned  to  this  salvation. 
He  was  not  left  to  despair,  but  the  door  of  hope  was  opened. 
"  The  enemy  came  in  like  a  flood,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
lifted  up  a  standard  against  him."  "  I  will  put  enmity  be- 
tween thee  and  the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her 
seed ;  it  shall  bruise  thy  head  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." 
So  said  the  Lord  to  the  serpent.  This  promise  foreshowed  the 
salvation.  It  was  renewed  and  enlarged  through  succeeding 
generations,  and  kept  before  the  minds  of  men  as  an  object  of 
intense  interest.     By  believing  it,  they  experienced  its  power. 


THE    GREAT    SALVATION.  263 

Who  the  Savior  might  be,  or  in  what  manner  the  salvation 
would  be  efFected,  was  not  clearly  made  known.  But  the  fact 
of  a  salvation  was  made  known,  and  it  was  a  fact  of  the  deep- 
est interest.  Abel,  through  faith  in  this  salvation,  offered  a 
more  acceptable  sacrifice  to  God  than  Cain.  By  faith  in  it 
Enoch  was  translated  that  he  should  not  see  death.  This  sal- 
vation was  the  hope  of  Abraham — he  saw  it  afar  off,  and  was 
glad.  Jacob,  living  and  dying,  waited  for  it.  The  whole 
Jewish  system  prefigured  it,  and  all  the  saints  looked  forward 
to  it.  It  was  the  burden  of  the  prophets,  and  they  searched 
into  the  meaning  of  their  own  prophecies,  "  searching  what, 
or  what  manner  of  time,  the  spirit  of  Christ  which  was  in  them 
did  signify,  when  it  testified  beforehand  the  sufferings  of  Christ, 
and  the  glory  that  should  follow."  Even  the  angels  desired 
to  look  into  it.  For  through  it  a  ladder  was  set  up  on  the 
earth  and  reached  to  heaven,  and  the  angels  descended  and 
ascended  upon  it.  Messages  from  heaven  came  by  the  minis- 
try of  angels,  and  they  are  sent  forth  as  "  ministering  spirits, 
sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation." 
But  this  salvation  is  not  interesting  merely  to  the  pious,  and 
the  angels  who  kept  their  first  estate, — it  has  an  interest  in 
hell  as  well  as  heaven — with  the  contentious  and  disobedient, 
as  well  as  the  pious.  The  interest  in  hell  is  to  prevent,  to 
frustrate  the  salvation, — to  continue  the  blindness  of  man,  and 
harden  his  heart.  Legions  of  devils  arc  excited  to  new  dili- 
gence, and  new  arts  for  that  purpose.  And  the  clearer  its 
manifestation,  the  more  energy,  and  zeal,  and  cunning  crafti- 
ness to  delude.  No  indifference  is  felt  there,  but  the  deepest 
interest.  And  so  with  the  wicked  on  earth.  Any  thing  else 
may  be  tolerated,  however  ridiculous,  or  frivolous,  or  perni- 
cious.    Ancient  enmities  are  laid  aside  for  combined  opposition 


264  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

to  the  truth.  Herod  and  Pilate  are  made  friends  to  each  other 
to  destroy  Christ  and  nullify  his  gospel.  They  can  think  qui- 
etly of  the  advance  of  any  cause  but  the  cause  of  Christ,  and 
keep  their  tempers  on  any  subject  but  the  subject  of  religion. 
They  cannot  understand  its  principles  or  see  its  influence  with- 
out a  deep  interest.  For  its  spirit  rebukes  theirs,  and  its 
works  shame  theirs.  Every  one  imbued  with  its  spirit  con- 
demns them,  as  Noah,  building  the  ark,  condemned  the  world. 
They  might  be  willing  to  let  it  alone,  and  even  admire  it  at  a 
safe  distance,  if  it  would  let  them  alone.  But  its  very  spirit 
is  aggressive,  and  they  resist  with  a  zeal  and  determined  energy 
that  shows  a  consciousness  of  its  greatness.  A  small  matter 
that  had  no  power  to  stand,  could  never  call  forth  the  sneers 
and  invectives  that  are  poured  upon  this  salvation — could  never 
combine  so  many  hearts  to  oppose  it.  If  so  they  viewed  it,  they 
could  never  tremble  at  its  approach,  nor  triumph  when  its  pro- 
fessed advocates  are  found  unworthy  of  their  trust.  Its  great- 
ness is  manifest  from  the  interest  it  excites  in  heaven,  and 
earth,  and  hell, — among  all  classes, — those  who  have  never 
wandered  from  God,  those  who  have  returned,  and  those  who 
are  farthest  off. 

lY.  The  glory  it  brings  to  God,  manifests  the  greatness 
of  this  salvation.  It  is  the  great  work  of  God, — the  greatest 
of  all  his  works,  as  it  makes  the  most  glorious  display  of  him- 
self. The  creation  of  all  thmgs  was  the  result  of  mere  intelli- 
gent omnipotence.  He  spake,  and  it  was  done.  This  beauti- 
ful world  arose  at  his  command.  His  ^'  hand  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  the  earth,  and  his  right  hand  spanned  the  heavens." 
When  he  calls  to  them,  they  stand  up  together.  This  was  a 
most  glorious  display  of  his  wisdom  and  power.  Over  this 
new  creation,  that  showed  him  so  wise  in  counsel  and  mighty 


TUE    GREAT    SALVATION.  2G5 

in  strength,  well  niiglit  "  the  morning  stars  sing  together,  and 
all  the  sons  of  God  shout  for  joy."  But  his  salvation  shows 
other  and  nobler  qualities — not  the  powers  of  his  mind,  merely, 
but  the  feelings  of  his  heart — not  his  greatness,  so  much  as  his 
goodness, — the  greatness  of  his  goodness,  the  depths  of  the 
riches  of  his  grace. 

"  'Twas  great—to  speak  a  world  from  naught, 
'Tw^as  greater — to  redeem." 

**  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time ;  the  only  begotten  son, 
■which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  he  hath  declared  him  " — 
revealed  his  justice  and  his  mercy — his  abhorrence  of  sin  and 
pity  for  the  sinner — his  regard  for  all  that  is  right,  his  com- 
passion for  all  that  are  wrong.  There  is  no  sacrifice  of  mercy 
to  justice,  nor  of  justice  to  mercy.  In  this  salvation  they  meet 
together — righteousness  in  him  and  peace  to  the  sinner  em- 
brace each  other. 

"  Here  the  whole  Deity  is  known  ; 

Nor  dares  a  creature  guess — 
Which  of  the  glories  brightest  shone — 

The  justice  or  the  grace." 

Qualities  that  seem  opposite  combine — unspotted  purity  and 
inflexible  justice,  with  infinite  compassion  and  boundless  grace. 
Every  sinner  saved  is  a  specimen  of  the  justice  and  compassion, 
the  power  and  grace  of  God.  One  great  end  of  this  declara- 
tion was  to  reveal  God,  to  bring  his  real  character  to  the 
knowledge  and  the  hearts  of  his  creatures,  to  show  to  princi- 
palities and  powers  in  heavenly  places,  as  well  as  to  his  crea- 
tures on  earth,  his  manifest  wisdom  and  grace.  God  would  be 
known,  that  those  who  worship  him  may  worship  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.  Through  this  salvation  he  is  known,  as  his  heart  is 
23 


266  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

laid  open  in  the  sacrifice  of  Calvary  and  the  influence  of  his 
spirit.  It  has  pleased  him  to  make  this  most  glorious  display 
of  himself  here  on  earth,  and  to  fix  tlio  attention  of  all  creatures 
upon  this  world  as  the  field  of  his  noblest  achievements.  And 
what  though  it  be  little  among  the  worlds  that  surround  it  ? 
Does  the  glory  of  the  achievement  depend  upon  the  importance 
of  the  place  where  it  is  performed  ?  On  the  contrary,  the  place 
may  acquire  an  importance  from  the  achievements.  But  its 
insignificance  can  never  dim  their  glory.  Many  a  place  other- 
wise unknown,  has  gained  a  name  and  distinction  in  history, 
from  some  great  work  performed  there.  Pharsalia  was  but  a 
country  town,  and  Actium  a  fishing  port,  and  Waterloo  a  small 
village,  and  Bethlehem  little  among  the  cities  of  Judah.  Lit- 
tle in  themselves,  they  gained  distinction  from  what  was 
done  there,  just  as  this  world  gains  distinction  as  the  chosen 
field  of  God's  great' salvation.  And  to  say,  as  some  have 
done,  this  world  is  too  insignificant  for  such  achievements  as  to 
engage  the  attention  of  the  universe,  is  to  just  say  the  battles 
of  Actium  and  Waterloo  were  nothing,  and  the  world  had  no 
interest  in  them,  because  the  places  were  so  insignificant. 
Whatever  the  world  may  be  in  itself,  or  however  insignificant, 
it  acfjuires  an  importance  from  the  scenes  transacted  here — 
scenes  which  reveal  God,  and  which  angels  desire  to  look  into. 
Y.  This  salvation  is  great  from  its  actual  effects. — 
Suited  to  the  nature  and  wants  of  man,  it  has  its  power  and  in- 
fluence upon  human  hearts.  It  touches  the  very  springs  of 
life,  brino-in^  order  out  of  confusion,  cleansinu;  the  conscience, 
purifying  the  heart,  restoring  the  soul  to  its  right  position,  and 
the  right  use  of  its  powers.  Under  its  influence,  "  old  things 
are  passed  away;  behold,  all  things  are  become  new."  It 
quickens  together  with  Christ  those  wlio  are  dead  in  trespasses 


THE    GREAT    SALVATION.  267 

and  sins,  and  "raises  them  up  together,  and  makes  them  sit 
together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus."  It  gives  "  the 
oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of 
heaviness."  In  human  hearts,  the  graces  of  the  spirit  take 
the  place  of  the  works  of  the  flesh.  Instead  of  "hatred,  vari- 
ance, emulations,  wrath,  strife,  seditions,  heresies,  envyings, 
murders,  drunkenness,  revilings,  and  such  like,"  come  "love, 
joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meek- 
ness, temperance."  And  this  is  done  by  what  seems  an  easy 
and  natural  process,  showing  the  efficiency  of  God's  plan,  and 
the  power  of  his  salvation.  He  works  in  grace  by  the  gospel, 
as  he  works  in  nature  by  law,  to  effect  a  glorious  change.  We 
look  abroad  over  barren  fields,  and  decayed  vegetation  ;  storms 
sweep  over  them,  and  the  white  mantle  of  death  covers.  The 
naked  trees  are  frozen  to  the  very  heart.  But  the  spring  re- 
turns. The  pall  of  death  is  dissolved,  and  passes  away  before 
the  fire  that  God  has  kindled.  The  direct  rays  of  the  sun  melt 
and  warm  the  frozen  earth,  and  the  refreshing  rain  comes  down 
from  heaven.  All  nature  is  changed.  The  fields  are  clothed 
in  living  vegetation.  The  mountains  and  hills,  but  lately  so 
barren  and  waste,  "break  forth  into  singing,  and  all  the  trees 
of  the  field  clap  their  hands."  Can  we  see  this  change  passing 
before  our  eyes  so  quietly  and  yet  so  thoroughly  effected,  and 
not  think  of  the  power  of  God's  salvation.  "  So  shall  my 
word  be  that  goeth  forth  out  of  my  mouth  :  it  shall  not  return 
unto  me  void,  but  it  shall  accomplish  that  which  I  please,  and 
shall  prosper  in  the  thing  whereto  I  sent  it."  "  The  Sun  of 
righteousness  arises  with  healing  in  his  wings."  There  is 
power  in  his  rays  to  dissolve  the  chains  of  sin,  to  melt  the 
frozen  heart  in  penitence  and  godly  sorrow,  to  transform  by 
tlie  renewing  of  tlie  mind,  to  produce  a  new  life  and  spirit,  of 


2G8  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

which  all  the  change  in  nature  is  but  a  faint  emblem.  It  does 
this  now.  It  has  done  this — upon  every  class,  upon  every 
kind  of  human  beings.  Men  have  looked  upon  portions  of 
their  race,  so  unthinking,  and  sensual,  and  devilish, — the  Hot- 
tentots, the  Hindoos,  the  savages — and  in  despair  exclaimed, 
"Can  these  dry  bones  live?"  They  can.  They  do,  not 
only  with  hearts  renewed  by  the  gospel,  but  with  intellects 
almost  created  by  it.  It  has  brought  out  a  power  of  thought 
and  feeling,  of  wliich  in  their  debasement  they  seemed  incapa- 
ble. It  is  "  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of 
strong  holds;  casting  down  imaginations,  and  every  high  thing, 
that  exalteth  itself  against  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  bringing 
into  captivity  every  thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ;"  re- 
storing man  to  his  right  mind  and  to  his  right  position  before 
God,  making  him  as  the  angels,  and  an  heir  of  heaven.  Such 
is  but  a  faint  outline  of  the  great  and  glorious  salvation  which 
is  brought  to  us  by  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ — great  from 
the  very  necessity  of  the  case,  inasmuch  as  the  ruin  is  great, — 
great  from  the  price  it  cost,  from  the  interest  it  excites,  from 
the  glory  it  brings  to  God  as  a  just  God  and  a  Savior,  and 
from  the  effects  it  produces, 

Now  the  inquiry  comes  up,  neglecting  it,  how  shall  any 
man  escape  ?  For,  after  all,  it  is  not  forced  upon  any  man. 
The  idea  of  force  is  inconsistent  with  its  very  nature.  It  is 
provided  and  offered  freely,  and  it  must  be  received  as  freely. 
God  deals  with  men  according  to  the  nature  he  has  given  them. 
"  There  is  a  spirit  in  man  ;  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty 
giveth  them  understanding."  And  however  perverted  and 
debased,  it  is  not  destroyed. 

All  who  have  been  saved  by  this  salvation,  have  employed 
their  minds  about  it  and  studied  into  it,  and  so  felt  its  power, 


THE    GREAT    SALTATION.  269 

and  been  transformed  by  the  renewing  of  their  minds.  It 
commends  itself  to  every  man's  heart  and  conscience.  But  if 
his  heart  is  full  of  other  things,  and  his  mind  otherwise  em- 
ployed, the  commandment  is  vain  to  him.  He  must  hoi-,  that 
he  may  see.  He  does  not  see  what  he  refuses  to  look  at — he 
is  not  restored  by  a  remedy  which  he  neglects  to  apply.  How 
shall  we  escape,  having  neglected  so  great  salvation.  This  in- 
quiry places  the  neglecter  out  before  us.  He  has  gone  through 
his  appointed  season — his  state  of  probation.  There  he  stands 
— having  neglected.  Now,  how  shall  he  escape?  It  is  a 
challenge  to  the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  world  to  devise  a 
way  of  escape.  He  has  no  connection  with  the  Savior — no 
hold  on  heaven — his  sins  are  all  upon  his  own  head.  The 
storm  is  at  hand,  and  he  has  no  shelter.  Havins;  nedected  so 
great  a  salvation,  how  shall  he  escape  ?  Once,  any  one  could 
have  told  liow.  For  there  was  a  Savior,  and  a  salvation,  and 
an  open  door,  and  an  open  way  to  heaven.  But  now,  having 
neglected  this,  how  ?  How  shall  he  escape  ?  How  can  he  I 
^3* 


SERMON  XVIII.* 

DEATH  AND  THE  JUDGMENT. 

As  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  tliis  the  judgment. 
Hebrews  ix.  27. 

The  text  contains  two  assertions,-  and  the  second  gives  terror 
to  the  first.  Were  death  the  end  of  existence,  it  would  still 
be  dreadful.  The  soul  shrinks  back  upon  itself,  and  startles 
at  destruction, 

"  For  who  would  lose, 
Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being, 
Those  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity'?  " 

Death  in  its  own  nakedness  is  never  contemplated  without  ter- 
ror. The  very  beasts  tremble  at  its  approach,  as  nature  shrinks 
from  it.  To  meet  it  calmly  and  boldly,  without  shrinking,  re- 
quires a  hardihood  beyond  human.  The  thought  of  it  is  un- 
pleasant, and  it  is  commonly  put  away  among  the  things  upon 
which  we  cannot  bear  to  reflect.  Though  known  and  admitted 
to  be  inevitable,  it  is  carefully  excluded  from  the  mind,  and  to 
the  last  hour  of  life,  rarely  appears  as  a  reality.  Each  is  per- 
fectly aware  of  the  exposure  of  others,  and  unconscious  of  his 
own.  "  All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves." 
And  it  comes  at  last  in  a  day  when  we  look  not  for  it.  With 
all  the  manifest  tokens  of  its  approach,  it  comes  unexpectedly. 
But  there  is  something  more  dreadful  than  death — "  to  be  we 

*  This  Sermon,  delivered  Sabbath  T.  M.,  July  14,  1850,  was  the  last  3Ir. 
Merrill  ever  preached. 


DEATH  AND  THE  JUDGMENT.  271 

know  not  wliat — we  know  not  wlierc  " — "  after  this,  the  judg- 
ment." To  go  from  the  pains  of  disease  to  a  tribunal  of  jus- 
tice— from  the  agonies  of  dissolution  to  the  judgment  seat — 
to  hear  his  voice,  saying,  "  Return  to  the  dust,  ye  children  of 
men,"  and  then  again,  "  Give  an  account  of  thy  stewardship  ; 
for  thou  mayest  be  no  longer  steward."  For  every  man  shall 
give  an  account  of  himself  to  God,  who  shall  bring  every  work 
into  judgment.  All  this  is  fitted  to  excite  fear  and  terror  to 
the  highest  pitch.  The  assertion  of  the  text  is  incidental.  It 
is  not  the  apostle's  design  to  declare  the  certainty  of  death  and 
a  judgment  after.  He  refers  to  these  facts  as  matters  well  un- 
derstood and  admitted.  The  apostle's  design  was,  to  show  the 
pre-eminence  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  cross  over  all  the  Levitical 
sacrifices.  One  thing  in  proof  of  this  superiority,  is  the  fact 
that  it  was  offered  but  once,  whereas  the  Jewish  sacrifices  were 
offered  continually,  year  by  year.  And  the  very  repetition 
showed  their  insufficiency,  for  had  they  been  efficacious,  he 
asked,  "  would  they  not  have  ceased  to  be  offered  ?  Because 
that  the  worshipers  once  purged,  should  have  had  no  more 
conscience  of  sins,"  for  "  where  remission  of  these  is,  there  is 
no  more  offering  for  sin."  Christ  does  not  oflfer  himself  often, 
but  once,  and  once  for  all.  "  For  by  one  offering  he  hath  per- 
fected forever  them  that  are  sanctified."  As  to  men,  there  is 
once  to  die,  and  after  that  the  judgment ;  so  to  Christ,  there  is 
once  to  die,  and  after  that  to  save  or  destroy,  as  his  gospel 
shall  bo  received  or  rejected.  "As  it  is  appointed  to  men 
once  to  die,"  so  Christ  was  once  offered.  Death  finishes  man's 
probation,  and  sends  him  to  the  judgment;  so  the  death  of 
Christ  finishes  the  work  of  righteousness  and  opens  the  gates 
of  life.     There  is  a  judgment  after  death. 

I.    This  is   necessary  to  vindicate  the  chakacter  op 


272  HEV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

God.  Tn  this  world  there  is  a  continual  call  for  confidence 
and  hope  in  God.  Faith  is  to  give  substance  to  things  hoped 
for  and  evidence  to  things  not  seen,  and  give  reality  and  power 
to  things  that  do  not  yet  appear.  Our  God  is  a  God  of  judg- 
ment. He  loves  righteousness,  and  hates  iniquity.  But  this 
is  not  so  manifest  that  there  is  no  plausible  ground  to  question 
it.  He  does  not  come  forth  at  once  to  display  his  affection 
for  the  one,  or  abhorrence  of  the  other.  The  side  of  righteous- 
ness is  not  always  crowned  with  success,  nor  the  side  of  iniqui- 
ty covered  with  defeat.  Every  transgression  shall  receive  its 
just  recompense  of  reward,  but  we  do  not  see  this  as  yet. 
This  is  to  the  world  a  matter  of  faith,  and  not  yet  of  experi- 
ence ;  for  while  in  some  cases  the  extreme  of  wickedness  has 
brought  punishment  at  once,  (as  "  some  men's  sins  are  open 
before  hand,  going  before  to  judgment,")  in  others,  the  ex- 
treme of  wickedness  has  secured  success,  or  defied  detection. 
Every  transgression  shall  receive  its  just  recompense  of  reward. 
But  when  ?  There  is  a  time  for  every  purpose,  and  for  every 
work — a  time  to  sow,  and  a  time  to  reap — a  time  for  probation, 
and  a  time  for  retribution.  The  retribution  is  not  in  this 
world.  The  judgment  is  after  death.  Here,  for  the  most 
part,  success  or  failure  is  a  matter  of  prudence  or  imprudence, 
far  more  than  of  right  or  wrong.  From  the  fall  of  man,  the 
earth  has  been  filled  with  violence.  But  God  has  always  had 
a  seed  to  serve  him.  They  were  his  friends  and  favorites — 
heirs  of  his  kingdom — dear  to  him  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and 
engraved  on  the  palms  of  his  hands, — but  no  outward  pros- 
perity or  enjoyment  distinguished  them  from  others.  In  a  few 
extraordinary  cases,  he  interfered  to  protect  the  pious,  and  pun- 
ish the  wicked,  but  in  general,  nothing  of  the  kind.  Desperate 
wickedness  has  often  prospered  by  means  of  its  very  desperate- 


DEATH  AND  THE  JUDOMKNT.  273 

ness.  Ill  how  many  cases  would  a  little  conscience — a  little 
scruple  aljout  means — in  other  words  a  little  less  depravity, 
have  prevented  success  !  How  slight  a  defence,  often,  is  right 
means  against  all  kind  of  means.  In  this  world,  tlic  deter- 
mined or  the  wilful  for  the  most  part  bear  rule.  They  push 
their  own  plans  regardless  of  others,  and  push  aside  those  who 
are  too  conscientious  or  kind-hearted  to  contend  with  them. 
How  often  does  the  force  of  numbers,  or  the  force  of  fraud  and 
ftilsehood,  bear  down  the  cause  of  righteousness.  And  the 
world  is  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  success,  and  praises  what 
prospers.  The  conqueror  wades  through  seas  of  blood  to  a 
throne.  If  he  had  been  more  mindful  of  his  fellow  men,  his 
enterprise  had  fiiiled — if  he  had  been  less  prodigal  of  their 
blood,  or  less  desperate  in  his  course,  his  plan  had  failed. 
The  pirate,  acting  upon  the  principle  that  '^  dead  men  tell  no 
tales,"  adds  murder  to  robbery,  and  prospers  for  years;  while 
the  humanity  of  another  spares  his  victim,  to  his  own  destruc- 
tion. No  man  can  observe  the  triumphing  of  wickedness  and 
of  the  wicked,  without  the  assurance  that  this  is  not  all ;  as 
this  does  not  show  a  God  loving  righteousness  and  hating  in- 
iquity. There  is  a  judgment  after  death,  which  shall  vindi- 
cate the  character  of  God,  and  clear  him  from  all  appearance 
of  conniving  at  wickedness. 

II.  A  JUDGMENT  AFTER  DEATH  BRINGS  OUT  HIDDEN  WICK- 
EDNESS. How  many  assume  a  virtue  though  they  have  it  not, 
and  accomplish  their  selfish  ends  by  false  pretences ;  and  the 
hypocritical  covering  remains  till  they  finish  their  probation. 
Their  life  is  one  long  lie,  and  yet  they  prosper  in  it.  Pretence 
is  more  successful  than  reality, — falsehood  more  profitable  than 
truth.  There  is  no  outward  defeat  or  discomfort  to  show  God's 
disapprobation.     How  much  that  is  apparently  good,  and  really 


274  REV.    D. 

useful,  is  wronoj  in  principle  !  Man  looketli  at  the  outward 
appearance,  and  he  judges  favorably,  as  he  ought, — for  he 
judges  the  unknown  by  the  known, — but  God  looks  at  the 
heart,  and  sees  it  wrong  in  spirit  and  false  in  principle.  Yet 
there  is  nothing  to  show  his  disapprobation.  He  requires  truth 
in  the  inward  parts ;  and  finds  falsehood,  and  suffers  it  to  pass 
unpunished, — even  unrebuked.  How  much  of  evil  has  been 
discovered  after  the  perpetrators  have  left  the  world  I  They 
have  had  all  the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  for  tlie  time — as  far  as 
appears,  for  all  time — escaped  its  pains.  They  have  lived  in 
all  good  reputation  on  earth,  and  died  apparently  in  peace. 
Their  crimes  have  been  discovered  years  after  their  departure. 
Others  have  been  successful  in  defying  discovery.  Their 
crimes  perpetrated  on  earth,  are  concealed  from  men.  Judg- 
ment is  clearly  after  death — the  judgment  that  brings  out  hid- 
den wickedness. 

III.     A   JUDGMENT   AFTER   DEATH     GIVES    JUST     REWARDS    TO 

MEN.  A  judgment  before  this,  would  be  ill-timed  and  incom- 
plete, as  it  would  be  formed  upon  partial  or  limited  views — a 
judgment  of  what  was  intended,  or  doing,  not  of  what  is  done. 
Till  death,  the  work  is  unfinished  and  the  character  immature. 
The  cup  is  not  full^  nor  has  the  right  or  wrong  grown  to  its 
full  strength.  But  it  is  appointed  to  men  once  to  die,  and  as 
that  fixes  its  stamp  upon  his  character,  and  finishes  his  proba- 
tion, after  that,  the  judgment. 

Where  is  the  selfish  soul  punished,  that  is, rich  to  himself, 
and  not  rich  toward  God  ?  He  has  lived  to  himself.  His 
own  pleasure  and  profit  have  always  been  the  great  objects  of 
his  regard,  while  his  whole  business  has  been  to  use  his  fellow 
men  for  his  own  advantage.  The  great  law  of  love  has  been 
set  aside,  while  he  has  neither  feared  God  nor  reofarded  men. 


DEATH   AxND    TUE   JUDGMENT. 


275 


Where  is  he  punished?  His  shrewdness  or  skill  in  trans- 
ferring from  others  to  hiniself,  and  holding  with  a  desperate 
grasp,  are  praised  rather  than  blamed  on  earth,  among  men. 
He  is  envied  more  than  pitied  or  abhorred.  "  Men  will  praise 
thee,  when  thou  docst  well  to  thyself."  Where  is  he  pun- 
ished who  has  sacrificed  the  hopes  and  happiness  of  millions  to 
his  own  aggrandizement  ?  Ho  has  often  prospered  to  the  end 
of  life,  and  left  the  fruit  of  his  rapacity  to  his  posterity.  Job 
asks,  "Wherefore  do  the  wicked  live,  become  old,  yea,  are 
roighty  in  power?"  They  are  free  from  any  peculiar  suffer- 
ing, and  pass  quietly  away.  They  spend  their  days  in  wealth, 
and  in  a  moment  go  down  to  the  grave.  Death  not  so  pre- 
sented as  to  alarm  their  fears  of  evil — the  pain  itself  but  mo- 
mentary— not  punished  by  fearful  forebodings,  as  it  comes  un- 
expectedly— not  punished  by  lingering  torments,  as  it  is  done 
at  once,  in  a  moment.  K  judgment  after  death  is  necessary, 
to  give  just  rew^ards  to  men,  as  there  is  manifestly  no  such  re- 
ward on  earth ;  for  no  man  knoweth  good  or  evil  by  all  that 
is  before  him.  "  Moreover,  I  saw  under  the  sun  the  place  of 
judgment,  that  wickedness  was  there  ;  and  the  place  of  right- 
eousness, that  iniquity  was  there.  I  said  in  my  heart,  God 
shall  judge  the  righteous  and  the  wicked."  But  not  now. 
"  For  there  is  a  time  there  for  every  purpose  and  for  every 
work,"  and  Infinite  Wisdom  has  selected  the  future  time — 
after  death.  Such  is  the  state  of  things  on  earth  rendering  a 
review  and  conviction  indispensable,  or  truth  and  justice  are 
trampled  down  forever. 

There  is  a  judgment  after  death.  Conscience  hears  witness 
to  this,  and  often  anticipates  the  sentence.  Conscience  is  the 
judgment  which  the  mind  forms  of  its  own  character — acquit- 
tino;  or  condemnincr.     Conscience  cannot  act  without  Y\»\\i  and 


276  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

knowletlge.  Its  decision  depends  upon  what  is  known.  And 
enough  is  every  where  known  to  secure  a  condemnation. 
Every  man  knows  that  his  Maker  is  entitled  to  his  service,  and 
that  his  law  is  the  supreme  law,  and  that  he  himself  deserves 
to  be  happy  or  miserable,  as  he  has  or  has  not  made  it  the  su- 
preme law.  Is  there  not  every  where  a  consciousness  of  guilt 
and  its  desert  ?  No  man  fears  injustice  at  the  hands  of  God. 
No  man  dreads  hiiu  as  a  cruel  or  capricious  being.  Why  then 
dread  to  appear  in  his  presence  ?  Why  do  man's  fears  arm 
the  whole  invisible  world  against  himself?  His  guilt  gives  sub- 
stance to  things  dreaded,  and  evidence  to  things  not  seen. 
Why  do  men  fear  death  ?  Do  you  say,  nature  shrinks  from 
dissolution  ?  But  when  nature  is  subdued  by  severe  and  pro- 
tracted suffering,  death  is  still  terrible.  Do  you  say,  death  is 
dreaded  as  the  end  of  earthly  enjoyments?  I  answer,  that 
when  all  these  have  come  to  an  end,  it  is  still  dreaded. 

But  that  which  is  so  necessary  to  vindicate  the  character  of 
God,  to  bring  forth  hidden  wickedness,  to  give  just  rewards  to 
men,  and  which  conscience  so  often  and  so  fearfully  anticipates, 
the  word  of  God  declares  shall  he— judgment  after  death! 
This  fact  is  presented  in  a  great  variety  of  ways.  Refer  to  the 
providence  of  God.  It  was  the  great  question  debated  by  Job 
and  his  friends, — "Is  judgment  before  death,  or  after?  The 
friends  said,  '' Before.^  ^  Job  said,  "Jfier.^'  "Wherefore 
do  the  wicked  live?"  They  are  not  punished  here,  as  they 
spend  their  days  in  wealth,  and  die  suddenly,  and  without 
pain.  Neither  does  conscience  cause  them  to  lead  an  unquiet 
life,  as  the  knowledge  upon  which  alone  conscience  can  act,  is 
excluded.  They  have  said  unto  God,  "  Depart  from  us;  for 
we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways." 

Jesus  has  taught  the  same  truth  in  the  parable  of  the  tares 


DEATH    AND    THE   JUDGMENT.  1:  <  / 

and  the  wheat,  where  both  grow  together  till  the  harvest — in 
the  story  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus,  where  after  death,  one 
was  comforted  and  the  other  tormented.  The  fact  of  a  judg- 
ment after  death,  stands  or  falls  with  Christianity  itself.  God 
now  commands  all  men  to  repent,  "  because  he  hath  appointed 
a  day,  in  the  which  he  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness, 
by  that  man  whom  he  hath  ordained."  "  Behold,  he  cometh 
with  clouds;  and  every  eye  shall  see  him,  and  they  also  which 
pierced  him ;  and  all  kindreds  of  the  earth  shall  wail  because 
of  him."     After  death,  then  the  judgment. 

1.  Here  is  consolation  to  the  righteous.  Their  Father  has 
set  upon  them  no  outward  mark  of  distinction,  nor  are  they  ex- 
empt from  any  of  the  sorrows  of  this  present  time.  Many  are 
the  afflictions  of  the  righteous.  They  are  not  what  they  wish  to 
be,  or  what  they  shall  be,  as  in  this  tabernacle,  they  often 
"  groan,  being  burdened."  But  they  are  saved  by  hope,  and 
in  this  hope  "they  greatly  rejoice,  though  now  for  a  season  (if 
need  be)  they  are  in  heaviness,  through  manifold  temptations." 
Their  trials  are  of  various  kinds.  Their  characters  are  aspersed, 
their  motives  misrepresented,  things  which  they  know  not,  laid 
to  their  charge.  The  temptation  is  strong  to  vindicate  them- 
selves at  all  hazards.  But  all  these  have  their  time  to  pass  away. 
Wait.  Bear.  "  Behold,  the  Judge  standeth  before  the  door." 
"After  death,  the  judgment,"  "and  he  shall  bring  forth  thy 
righteousness  as  the  light,  and  thy  judgment  as  the  noon-day." 

They  see  the  law  of  God  violated,  his  authority  set  at  nought, 
his  gospel  despised,  and  the  blood  of  Jesus  trampled  under  foot. 
They  are  jealous  for  his  honor,  and  ask,  Where  is  the  God  of 
judgment?  and  they  almost  ask  that  fire  may  come  down  from 
heaven.  The  wicked,  emboldened  by  delay,  ask,  "  Where  is 
the  promise  of  his  coming?"  Thev  are  impatient  of  delay, — 
24 


-78  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

anxious  to  precipitate  matters,  and  outrun  the  justice  of  God. 
But  the  text  teaches  us  to  repress  all  such  impatience  or  anxiety. 
Be  not  hasty  in  thy  spirit,  as  though  the  God  of  judgment  were 
unmindful  of  the  time.  Be  patient ;  stablish  your  hearts,  for 
the  coming  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand.  He  seeth  that  their  day  is 
coming,  and  none  the  less  certain  or  terrible  from  the  apparent 
delay.  He  waits.  Wait  thou  also.  "  After  death,  the  judg- 
ment." Neither  be  discouraoed  at  the  afflictions  of  the  rio-ht- 
eous,  nor  impatient  at  the  triumphing  of  the  wicked.  The  time 
is  short.  Wait.  How  much  better  his  time  for  correcting  all 
this,  than  yours. 

2.  Here  is  encouragement  to  effort.  After  death.  Then 
the  whole  space  before,  is  a  season  of  probation.  Hope  comes 
to  all — hope  diminishing  as  death  approaches,  but  not  vanishing 
till  death  has  done  its  work.  We  are  ready — too  ready  to  de- 
spair of  men — we  look  to  the  blinded  mind,  the  hardened  heart, 
and  the  seared  conscience — the  confirmed  habits,  the  repeated 
rejections,  and  despair  of  men, — unless  God  should  make  win- 
dows in  heaven.  Without  a  miracle,  their  salvation  is  deemed 
impossible.  We  are  disposed  to  remove  God's  land-mark,  and 
give  over  efforts  to  save  men,  while  the  life  is  yet  whole  in  them. 
But  all  such  discouragementor  despair  is  out  of  place,  as  an- 
ticipating God's  time — after  death.  Be  patient,  and  hope  to 
the  end,  and  if  need  be,  hope  even  against  hope.  But  if  there 
is  no  hope  from  man,  is  there  none  from  the  Gospel?  "  The 
word  of  God  is  quick  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than  any  two- 
edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and 
spirit,  and  of  the  joints  and  marrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart."  It  is  fitted  to  every  condi- 
tion, and  it  is  powerful  to  save  to  the  utmost.  Remember, 
''after  death,  the  judgment."  The  whole  space  lefore  is  a 
season  of  probation. 


DEATH  AND  TOE  JUDGMENT.  279 

3.  How  important  cm  event  is  death.  It  closes  up  the  ac- 
count, and  fixes  the  seal  upon  the  destiny  of  man.  "  It  is  ap- 
pointed to  men  once  to  die,  and  after  that  the  judgment."  It  is 
all  over  at  death.  And  yet  how  seldom  is  death  thus  viewed  I 
Death  comes  in  various  ways — by  what  is  called  accident,  or 
sudden  disease,  or  years  of  lingering  pain.  And  it  startles  us 
according  as  it  was  sudden  and  unexpected.  Yet  who  thinks  of 
the  judgment  that  comes  after?  We  follow  the  remains  to  the 
grave,  and  they  are  buried  out  of  sight.  We  pass  our  judgment 
upon  the  character  and  conduct  of  the  departed,  and  little  think 
of  that  judgment  from  which  there  is  no  escape,  and  no  appeal. 
Committing  ashes  to  ashes,  and  dust  to  dust,  we  retire  from  the 
field  of  the  dead,  and  the  whole  scene  is  forgotten.  An  immor- 
tal being  has  ended  his  probation — a  never  dying  soul  has  gone 
to  the  judgment — to  bliss  or  wo.  And  the  living  fail  to  lay  it 
to  heart.  There  is  no  communion  with  the  eternal  world,  as 
there  is  no  faith  to  s-ive  substance  to  thino;s  not  seen. 

How  important  is  death  !  And  how  near  !  On  what  a  slen- 
der thread  hang  everlasting  things !  Does  not  wisdom  cry, 
"  Work  while  the  day  lasts.  Make  use  of  the  delay  of  judgment 
to  seek  a  shelter  from  the  storm,  a  covert  from  the  tempest.'* 
"It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  this  the  judg- 
ment." And,  safe  in  Christ,  let  it  come.  It  is  God's  appoint- 
ment, and  let  it  be  fulfilled.  "If  our  earthly  house  of  this 
tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  Death  is  at 
hand,  and,  "after  death,  the  judgment."  What  will  be  the 
destiny  of  this  audience  ?  Shall  it  be  acquittal  or  condemnation 
in  that  day?  "  A  prudent  man  foreseeth  the  evil  and  hideth 
himself,  but  the  simple  pass  on  and  arc  punished." 


SERMON  XIX.* 

SUBMISSION. 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  bim,  "WTiat  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but 
thou  sbalt  know  hereafter.    John  xiii.  7. 

Jesus  enforced  Lis  instruction  Ly  his  own  example,  and 
showed  in  bis  life  what  he  required  of  others.  In  the  way  of 
holiness  he  does  not  say  Go,  but  Come.  Do  as  I  have  done. 
He  has  left  us  an  example,  that  we  should  follow  bis  footsteps. 
He  had  taught  his  disciples, — "  He  that  bumbleth  himself  shall 
be  exalted."  "Be  kindly  affectioned  one  to  another,  with 
brotherly  love;  in  honor  preferring  one  another.''  "The 
kings  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  lordship  over  them ;  and  they  that 
exercise  authority  upon  /them  are  called  benefactors.  But  ye 
shall  not  be  so ;  but  he  that  is  greatest  among  you,  let  him  be 
as  the  younger,  and  he  that  is  chief,  as  he  that  doth  serve." 
"  He  called  a  little  child  unto  him  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of 
them,  and  said,  Yerily  I  say  unto  you,  except  ye  be  converted 
and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  Whosoever  therefore  shall  humble  himself  as  this 
little  child,  the  same  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

But  still  he  discovered  pride,  and  an  ambition  to  be  great, 
and  he  took  this  method  to  correct  and  repress  it.  After  sup- 
per he  girded  himself  and  appeared  as  the  servant  of  all,  ready 
to  perform  the  most  menial  office.     Peter  considered  this  de- 

*  This  Sermon  was  never  preached.  It  was  written  subsequent  to  the  last 
Sabbath  3Ir.  31.  olliciated  in  the  jjulpit.    It  was  the  last  Sermon  he  wrote. 


SUB3IISSI0X.  281 

grading,  and  objected  to  it.  "  Lord  !  dost  thou  wash  my 
feet?  "  It  is  not  becoming  for  the  Lord  to  perform  it.  It  is 
not  becomino"  for  him  to  submit  to  it.     He  felt  that  he  could 

o 

order  things  better.  Why  !  his  Master  had  forgotten  himself. 
He  !  perform  the  work  of  the  lowest  servant — wash  my  feet ! 
Never !  I  know  my  place,  and  I  will  not  submit  to  it. 
"Jesus  said  to  him,  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but 
thou  shalt  know  hereafter," — as  if  he  had  said,  "  Suffer  it  now, 
and  you  shall  know  the  reason  of  it  by  and  by.  For,  strange  as 
it  may  appear,  it  has  a  meaning  that  even  you  shall  commend, 
when  you  come  to  understand  it.     Have  patience,  and  wait." 

This  is  very  often  the  language  of  God's  providence, — 
"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now ;  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after," and  this  ought  to  satisfy  us. 

For  the  sake  of  illustration,  let  us  recur  to  a  few  instances. 
The  Bible  affords  them  in  abundance.  Abraham  left  his  own 
country  and  kindred,  at  the  command  of  God,  and  went  out,  not 
knowing  whither  he  went.  "  I  will  make  of  thee  a  great  na- 
tion." And  yet  for  years  he  had  no  child,  and  when  at  last  a 
child  was  born,  and  grew  up  to  years  of  maturity,  he  was  com- 
manded to  offer  this  child  a  sacrifice.  "  Take  now  thy  son, 
thine  only  son  Isaac  whom  thou  lovest,  and  get  thee  into  the 
land  of  Moriah,  and  offer  him  there  for  a  burnt  offering  upon 
one  of  the  mountains  which  I  will  tell  thee  of."  Abraham  was 
an  old  man,  and  this  was  the  heir  of  prophecy  and  of  promise 
— the  prop  of  his  declining  age,  the  chosen  seed  through  whom 
God's  promises  were  to  be  fulfilled — and  going  forward  to  obey 
the  command  he  must  be  left  a  lone  wanderer  on  earth,  and  the 
promises  fail  of  their  accomplishment.  AVhy  such  a  command  ? 
If  the  solace  of  age  must  be  removed,  and  the  parent  left  child- 
less, let  God  do  it  by  his  own  immediate  act,  and  not  employ 
24* 


282  RET.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

the  wretched  father  in  this  strange  work.  "  Take  thy  son,  thine 
only  son  Isaac  whom  thou  lovest,  and  offer  him  for  a  burnt  of- 
fering upon  one  of  the  mountains  that  I  will  tell  thee  of." 
Shall  a  parent  imbrue  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  his  child  ?  and 
that  parent  a  friend  to  God,  and  God  require  it  ?  Plow  strange 
and  seemingly  unnatural — the  best  affections  of  his  nature  sti- 
fled— the  dearest  object  of  his  heart  slain  by  his  own  hands. 
But  strange  as  this  may  seem  when  seen  in  part,  there  is  nothing 
strange  when  the  whole  is  seen  and  understood.  Abraham  went 
forward  to  obey  the  command,  simply  because  he  recognized  the 
authority  and  had  confidence  in  the  character  of  him  who  gave  it. 
He  knew  no  particular  reason  why  it  was  commanded,  or  what 
end  was  to  be  answered  by  it.  It  was  enough  that  such  was  the 
command  of  God.  "  Yv^hat  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now;  but 
thou  shalt  know  hereafter."  And  the  result  justified  all  his 
confidence.  He  knew  that  it  was  right  to  obey  God,  and  that  it 
was  safe  followino;  his  directions  in  the  darkness  and  throu2;h  the 
deeps.  Why  he  was  led  in  this  particular  way  he  could  not  know. 
But  he  knew  all  afterwards,  and  he  did  well  to  wait  the  event. 
So  it  was  with  Jacob.  Pie  was  led  in  a  way  that  he  knew 
not,  and  through  trials  and  afflictions  that  seemed  evil,  and  only 
evil.  A  great  portion  of  his  life  was  embittered  by  the  wick- 
edness of  his  children — their  combinations  in  wrong,  or  their 
contests  one  with  another.  Pie  loved  them  all,  and  yet  he 
found  it  impossible  to  please  them  all.  A  favor  shown  to  one 
was  an  offence  to  the  rest.  The  younger,  which  was  the  object 
of  his  special  regard,  was  for  that  reason  the  object  of  their 
special  spite  and  malignity.  They  conspired  to  remove  Joseph 
out  of  the  way.  Their  first  plan  was  to  kill  him, — their  next 
to  put  him  into  a  deep  pit,  and  leave  him  to  die.  Then,  as  a 
company  of  slave-traders  passed  by,  there  was  an  appeal  to  their 


SUBMISSION.  283 

cupidity.  They  could  gratify  their  malignity,  and  at  the  same 
time  make  money  by  it.  They  sold  him,  and  cheated  their 
father  into  the  belief  of  his  death.  But  there  was  a  providence 
in  all  this — God  working  as  well  as  man — God  meaning  good, 
as  well  as  man  meaning  evil.  This  providence  was  continually 
saying  to  the  father,  "  Wait — ^judge  nothing  before  the  time — 
*  what  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now ;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereaf- 
ter.' "  The  aged  saint  agonized  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  while  the 
wicked  prospered  and  rejoiced.  But  after  twenty  years,  the  time 
of  trial  came.  A  famine  overspread  their  land,  and  there  was 
provision  in  the  land  to  which  they  had  sold  their  brother. 
Thus  they  were  brought  to  meet  him  face  to  face  ;  and  the  va- 
rious trials  to  which  they  were  exposed,  were  fresh  trials  to  the 
good  old  man — as  they  returned  all  hut  one,  and  demanded  that 
the  younger  brother  should  go  with  them.  All  this  looked  not 
like  salvation,  but  destruction.  Jacob  judged  according  to  ap- 
pearance— though  (as  the  event  showed)  not  righteous  judg- 
ment— when  he  exclaimed,  "  All  these  things  are  against  me." 
The  whole  seemed  designed  to  "  bring  down  his  grey  hairs  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave,"  while  the  real  design  was  the  salvation 
of  the  whole  family.  He  that  was  sold  into  bondage,  was  in 
effect  but  sent  on  before  ''to  save  much  people  alive." 
Through  all  the  process  of  trial,  God  said  to  him,  "  what  I  do 
thou  knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 

Says  John  to  the  well-beloved  Gains,  "I  wish  above  all 
things  that  thou  mayest  prosper  and  be  in  health,  even  as  thy 
soul  prospereth."  So  it  was  with  Job.  His  soul's  prosperity 
was  the  measure  of  his  worldly  prosperity,  for  he  was  ' '  perfect 
and  upright,  and  one  that  feared  God  and  eschewed  evil." 
He  had  a  flourishing  family,  and  large  possessions, — prosper- 
ous every  way.     His  prosperity  excited  envy  and  malignity. 


284  REV.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

His  religion  was  misconstrued — charged  as  selfish  and  merce- 
nary. "Doth  Job  fear  God  for  nought?"  And  when  the 
pious  prosper  in  worldly  things,  Satan  and  his  emissaries  are. 
always  ready  with  such  f|uestions.  Their  uncharitableness  puts 
the  worst  construction  possible,  and  imputes  evil  when  there  is 
the  least  plausibility.  In  all  the  trials  of  Job,  this  was  the 
point  to  be  tried.  Was  he  mercenary?  seeing  no  glory  or 
beauty  in  God  only  as  God  defended  and  prospered  him?  Did 
he  love  the  character  of  God,  or  only  his  gifts  ?  Now  if  he 
had  been  told  beforehand  that  this  was  the  object  of  trial,  the 
great  end  of  trial  would  not  have  been  answered.  It  was  a 
necessary  part  of  the  trial  that  he  should  not  know  why  he  was 
tried.  AVas  he  to  trust  in  God  even  when  walking  in  darkness 
and  seeing  no  light  ?  Would  he  trust  in  God  even  when  he 
inquired  in  vain,  "  Show  me  wherefore  thou  contendest  with 
me?"  "Make  me  to  know  my  transgression  and  my  sin." 
God  said  to  him,  "  Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God, — what  I 
do  thou  knowest  not  now ;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter."  And 
when  the  trial  was  complete,  the  whole  object  of  it  was  manifest. 
He  came  out  of  the  furnace  as  gold  purified  by  the  fire,  and 
was  again  a  prosperous  man,  with  no  plausible  pretence  of  mer- 
cenary or  selfish  motives.  A  better  man,  he  had  larger  pos- 
sessions. He  prospered  and  was  in  health.  God  was  justified 
in  all  his  dealings  with  him.  He  was  victorious  by  his  faith  in 
God  through  the  trial,  and  the  event  showed  the  justness  of  his 
confidence.  He  believed  that  he  was  not  afflicted  merely  to 
make  him  miserable,  but  that  a  good  end  was  to  be  answered 
by  his  trial,  though  he  had  no  kind  of  conception  what  the  good 
end  would  be.  Now  he  saw  and  felt  it,  and  looked  back  upon 
his  trial  as  the  ordering  of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness. 
It  was  so  ivith  the  crucijixion  of  Christ.     He  was  taken  by 


SUBMISSION. 


285 


wicked  hands,  and  crucified  and  slain,  thongb  lie  did  no  sin; 
neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth.  His  disciples  were  often 
told  that  this  must  be — he  must  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  there 
suffer  the  things  that  had  been  foretold  of  him.  And  yet  it  was 
a  mystery  that  one  so  good  should  be  subjected  to  such  trials — 
that  one  in  whom  God  was  well  pleased,  should  be  given  into 
the  hands  of  wicked  men — ^nd  that  one  able  to  save  himself 
should  thus  freely  be  given  up  to  die.  His  disciples  looked 
on  with  wonder  and  astonishment — with  a  hope  at  first  that  he 
would  deliver  himself,  and  when  that  failed,  with  a  sinking, 
despairing  heart.  They  knew  not  that  he  must  suffer  and  then 
enter  into  his  glory — that  the  Captain  of  salvation  must  be 
made  perfect  through  suffering.  The  sufferings  of  Christ  and 
the  glory  that  should  follow  were  all  a  mystery,  and  at  his  de- 
parture sorrow  filled  their  hearts, — and  though  told  that  it  was 
expedient  for  them,  they  had  no  conception  in  what  way. 
They  must  wait  and  trust.  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not 
now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter."  By  death  he  must 
conquer  him  that  hath  the  power  of  death.  They  did  not  un- 
derstand it, — they  had  no  conception  of  it.  What  he  told 
them,  came  to  them  for  the  most  part  in  word  only.  But  how 
glorious  afterward,  when  their  eyes  were  opened,  and  their 
hearts  enlightened  to  understand  the  great  designs  of  his 
death — Christ  crucified,  the  power  of  God  and  the  wisdom  of 
God  unto  salvation — makino;  atonement  for  sin,  and  drawino- 
hearts  to  God — procuring  pardon  and  purity — ^justifying  God 
and  saving  men. 

How  often  did  the  disciples  hear  the  same  voice.  They 
were  few,  and  needed  the  support  and  companionship  of  one 
another.  And  for  this  mutual  support  they  crowded  together, 
weeping  and  rejoicing  in  tlieir  own  company.     Then  came  per- 


^36  PtEv.  D.  Merrill's  sermons. 

secution,  like  the  explosion  of  an  earthquake,  and  scattered 
them  all  abroad ;  and  what  was  intended  for  their  destruction 
turned  out  for  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel.  Cast  upon  their 
own  resources,  they  found  an  unexpected  ability  to  meet  their 
dangers.  Separated  from  their  friends,  they  went  every  where 
preaching  the  gospel,  and  so  making  new  friends.  They  found 
companions  and  support,  as  God  always  caused  them  to  tri- 
umph. Their  dispersion  spread  abroad  the  riches  of  grace,  and 
multiplied  the  heirs  of  salvation.  It  was  a  mystery  that  they 
should  be  so  much  and  so  deeply  afflicted,  but  a  mystery  that 
was  soon  explained,  even  to  their  own  satisfaction. 

So  with  the  early  death  of  the  pious.  How  often  are  they 
taken  away  in  the  midst  of  their  years,  and  as  it  were  in  the 
beginning  of  their  usefulness.  A  great  portion  of  their  time 
on  earth  is  spent  in  preparation,  and  the  preparation  is  scarcely 
completed  when  they  pass  away.  How  could  the  early  church 
spare  Stephen — "a  man  full  of  faith  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ?  " 
The  very  qualities  that  fitted  him  for  heaven,  made  him  most 
of  all  desirable  on  earth.  But  his  death  may  have  been  more 
effective  than  all  his  preaching.  There  was  a  close  connection 
between  the  death  of  Stephen  and  the  conversion  of  Saul,  and 
useful  as  was  Stephen,  he  gave  place  to  one  far  more  useful. 
Now  in  this  and  numerous  other  cases,  the  providence  of  God 
speaks  an  intelligible  language.  Judge  nothing  before  the 
time.  Bear.  Wait.  '-'What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now; 
but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter."     This  ought  to  satisfy  us. 

For,  1.  The  reasons  in  many  cases  are  above  our  compre- 
hension.  We  cannot  enter  into  the  counsels  of  Infinite  Vv'^is- 
dom,  and  even  were  they  explained  to  us,  we  have  no  mind  to 
grasp  them.  "  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ?  Canst 
thou  find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection  ?  "     And  shall  God 


SUBMISSION.  287 

"lave  no  secrets?  '*  Who  hath  directed  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 
or  being  his  counsellor,  hath  taught  Ilim  ?  "  Shall  a  single  ray 
of  reason  judge  the  decisions  of  Infinite  Wisdom  ?  and  condemn 
all  that  it  cannot  understand  ?  Shall  we  bring  the  Infinite  to 
our  little  measure,  and  decide  that  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge  are  nothing,  because  they  are  beyond  us  ?  That 
there  is  no  height  beyond  what  we  have  reached,  and  no  depth 
beyond  our  power  to  fathom?  "  Lo,  these  are  parts  of  his 
ways,"  and  however  strange  in  themselves,  they  may  be  all 
clear  when  seen  in  connection  with  the  other  parts. 

2.  In  many  cases  the  knowledge  would  be  inconsistent  with 
our  state  of  probation.  We'  are  on  trial — a  trial  of  our  faith 
and  constancy,  our  hope  in  God,  our  regard  to  the  right.  And 
surely  it  is  no  great  credit  to  adhere  to  the  right  when  there  is 
no  temptati(fn  to  do  otherwise — to  submit  to  God's  dispensa- 
tions when  they  are  just  such  as  we  would  have  them.  The 
trial  of  constancy  is  when  things  seem  dark,  and  we  are  led  in 
a  way  we  know  not ;  when  wickedness  seems  triumphant,  and 
the  wrong,  good  policy.  We  then  show  our  confidence  in 
Him  by  a  simple  adherence  to  His  directions,  and  looking 
through  all  appearances  to  Him.  "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet 
will  I  trust  in  Him."  "  Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blos- 
som, neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines,  the  labor  of  the  olive 
shall  fail  and  the  field  shall  yield  no  meat,  the  flock  shall  be 
cut  oflf  from  the  fold  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stall ; 
yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  sal- 
vation." "It  is  the  Lord;  let  him  do  what  seemeth  Him 
good."  What  seems  good  to  us,  is  often  evil;  what  seems 
good  to  Him,  is  good. 

3.  The  future  vwrld  will  reveal.  "  Thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."    The  reasons  will  be  made  clearly  manifest,  and  our 


288  r.Ev.  D. 

minds  enliglitened,  and  hearts  purified,  will  be  prepared  to  ap- 
preciate tliem.  God's  dispensations  will  be  presented  in  their 
true  character,  and  hearts  in  sympathy  with  him  will  under- 
stand and  rejoice  in  them.  Those  that  in  faith  have  said,  "  He 
hath  done  all  things  well,"  though  they  could  not  see  how  it 
would  be  well,  now  see  clearly.  It  is  no  longer  faith,  but 
sio-ht.  They  understand  the  whole  matter,  and  see  that  it  is 
well.  They  justify  God  throughout.  His  wisdom  and  good- 
ness stand  out  in  real  life,  and  they  rejoice  in  all  the  way  in 
which  he  brought  them,  and  glorify  him  for  all — for  the  pros- 
perous and  the  adverse,  for  all  they  have  suffered,  and  for  all 
they  have  enjoyed. 

The  great  object  of  trial  is  to  beget  confidence  in  God. 
Trust.     Wait. 

"  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 
But  trust  him  for  his  grace." 

What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  therefore  judge  nothing 
before  the  time. 

"  Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face." 


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