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SERMONS,
BY
HUGH BLAIR, D.D. F.R.S. Ed.
One of the Ministers of the High Church,
AND
Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettre?
in the University of Edinburgh,
IN FIVE VOLUMES.
VOL, IV.
A NEW EDITION.
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THE
CONTENTS.
OF VOL. IV
SERMON 1.
On the Causes of Men's being weary of Life.
Job, X. i. My soul is iveary of my life. Page I
S E R M O N II.
On Charity as the End of the Commandment.
1 Timothy, i. 5. Now the end of the command-
ment is charity y out of a pure heart, and of a
good conscience, and of faith unfeigned. 20
SERMON III.
On our Lives being in the Hand of God.
[Preached at the Beginning of a New Year.]
Psalm, xxxi. 15. My times are in thy hand. 39
SERMON IV.
On the Mixture of Bad Men with the Good in
Human Society,
Matt. xiii. 30. Let both grow together until
the harvest. - - - - 59
iv C O N T E N T S.
SERMON V.
On the Reiief which the Gospel affords to the
Distressed.
[Preached at the Celebration of the Sacrament of the Lord's
Supper.]
Matt. xi. 28. Come unto m<?, all ye that labour
and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. - - - - - 79
SERMON VI.
On Luxury and Licentionsness.
Isaiah, v. 12. The harp and the viol, the ta-
hret and the pipe, and ivine, are in their feasts ;
but they regard not the work of the Lord, nei-
ther consider the operation of his hands. 301
SERMON VIT.
On the Presence of God in a Future State.
1*SALM, xvi. ] 1. Thou uilt showme the path of
life: In I hy presence is fulnes§ of joy; at thy
right hajid there are pleasures for evermore.. 120
SERMON VJil.
On Curiosity concerning the Affairs of others.
John, xxi. 21, 22. Peter, seeing him, saith to
Jesus, Lord, and what shall this matt do? Jesus
saith u7ito him, ]f 1 trill that he tarry till I
come, what is that to thee? Follotv thou me. 1 3y
CONTENTS.
SERMON IX.
On our present Ignorance of the Ways of God.
John, xiii. 7. Jesus answered, and said unto
him, fV/idt J do, thou knoivcst not noiv , but
thou shall know hereafter. - - \5t
SERMON X.
On the Slavery of Vice.
2 Peter, ii. 19. While they promise them li-
bcrfi/, they themselves are the servants of cor-
ruption : for of ivhom a man is overcome, of
the same is he brought in bondage. 171
S E R M O N XI.
On the Importance of Public Worship.
Psalm, xxvi. 8. Lord, 1 have loved the habi-
tation of thy house, and the place where thine
honour dwelleth. - . jyg
SERMON Xir.
On the Fashion of the World passing away.
1 Corinth, vii. 31. Thejashion of this uorld
passe'h away. - - . 223
SERMON XIII.
On Tranquillity of Mind.
Psalm, xv. 5. He that doth these things siiall
never be ynoved - . c,|'j
vi CONTENTS.
SERMON XIV.
On the Misfortunes of Men being chargeable
upon themselves.
Proverbs, xix. 5. The foolishness of man per-
verleth his way, and his heart fretteth against
the Lord. - - . 262
S.E R M O N XV.
On Integrity as the Guide of Life.
Proverbs, xi. 3. The integrity of the upright
shall guide them. - - 281
SERMON XVI.
On Submission to the Divine Will.
Job, ii. 1 0. Shall we receive good at the hand of
God, and shall we not receive evil, - '60 1
SERMON XVII.
On Friendship.
Proverbs, xxvii. 10. Thine own friend, and
thy father s friend^ forsake not. - 322
SERMON XVIII.
On the Conduct to be held with regard to Future
Events.
Proverbs, xxvii. 1. JBoast not thyself of to-
morrow ; for thou knoivest not what a day may
bring forth- - ^ - - 341
CONTENTS. vii
SERMON XIX.
On following the Multitude to do Evil.
Exodus, xxiii. 2. Thou shall not follow a muU
titude to do evil. - - 360
SERMON XX.
On the Wisdom of God.
1 Timothy, i. 17. Now unto the King eternal,
immortal^ invisible, the only wise God, be ho-
nour and glory, for ever and ever. Am6n. 380
SERMON XXI.
On the Compassion and Beneficence of the
Deity.
[Preached before the Society for the Benefit of the Sons of the Clergy
of the Established Church of Scotland, 20th May, 1796.]
Jeremiah, xiix. 11. Leave thy fatherless chil'
dren ; / will preserve them alive ; and lei thy
widows trust in me, - -401
W»;?'??'57 -ft- »jy S'."S^»K»'?5'^^R'^*K» •^ W *SF v'^
SERMON I.
\
On the Causes of Men's bein^ Weary
of Life.
Job, X. 1.
JMy soul is weary of my life. —
JOB, in the first part of his days, was serm.
the greatest of all the men of the ^'^
East. His possessions were large ; his fa-
mily was numerous and flourishing; his
own character was fair and blameless. Yet
this man it pleased God to visit with ex-
traordinary reverses of fortune. He was
robbed of his whole substance. His sons
and daughters all perished ; and he him-
VOL. IV. B self.
I.
Oil (he Causes of
SERM self, fallen from his high estate, childless,
and reduced to poverty, was smitten with
sore disease. His friends came about him,
seemingly with the purpose of administer-
ing' comfort. But from a harsh and ill-
founded construction of the intention of
Providence in his disasters, they only add-
ed to his sorrows by unjust upbraiding.
Hence those many pathetic lamentations
with which this book abounds, poured
forth in the most beautiful and touching
strain of oriental poetry- In one of those
hours of lamentation, the sentiment in the
text was uttered ; Mf/ soul is weary of my
life ; a sentiment, which surely, if any si-
tuation can justify it., was allowable in the
case of Job.
In situations very different from that of
Job, under calamities far less severe, it is
not uncommon to find such a sentiment
working in tlie heart, and sometimes break-
ing forth from the lips of men. Many,
very many there are, who, on one occasion
or other, have experienced this weariness of
life, and been tempted to wish that it would
come to a close. Let us now examine in
what circumstances this feeling may be
deemed
JVEeti's deithg' Weaiy of Life. 3
deemed excusable ; in what it is to be lield serm.
sinful ; and under what restrictions we ^^^
may, on any occasion, be permitted to say.
My soul is weary of my life.
1 shall consider the words of the text in
three lights: as expressmg, First, The sen-
timent of a discontented man: Secondly,
The sentiment of an afflicted man ; Third-
ly, The sentiment of a devout man
I. Let us consider the text as express-
ing* the sentiment of a discontented man ;
with whom it is the effusion of spleen^
vexation, and dissatisfaction with life, aris-
ing from causes neither laudable nor jus-
tifiable. There are chiefly three classes of
men who are liable to this disease of the
mind : the idle ; the luxurious ; the cri-
minal.
First, This weariness of life is often found
among the idle ; persons commonly in easy
circumstances of fortune, who are not en-
gaged inanyof the laborious occupationsof
the world, and who are, at the same time,
without energy of mind to call them forth
into any other line of active exertion. Irv
JB 2 th>«
4 On the Causes of
SERM.this languid, or rather torpid state, tliey
*• have so many vacant hours, and are so much
at a loss how to fill up their time, that their
spirits utterly sink ; they become burden-
some to themselves, and to every one a-
round them ; and drag with pain the load
of existence. What a convincing proof is
hereby afforded, that man was designed by
his Creator to be an active being, whose
happiness is to be found not merely in rest
but in occupation and pursuit! The idle
are doomed to suffer the natural punish-
ment of tlieir inactivity and folly; and
from their complaints of the tiresomeness
of life there is no remedy but to awake
from the dream of sloth, and to fill up with
proper employment the miserable vacan-
cies of their days. Let them study to be-
come useful to the world, and they shall
soon become less burdensome to them-
selves. They shall begin to enjoy exist-
ence ; they shall reap the rewards which
Providence has annexed to virtuous acti-
vity ; and have no more cause to say, J\ly
soul is weary of my life.
Next, the luxurious and the dissipated
form another class of men, among whom
such
Men's beln^' weary of Life. 'i
such complaints are still more frequent. si:km.
With tliem they are not the fruit of idle- ^'^
ness. These are men who have been busi-
ed enough ; they have run the whole race
of pleasure ; but they have run it with such
inconsiderate speed, that it terminates in
weariness and vexation of spirit. By the
perpetual course of dissipation in which
they are engaged ; by the excesses which
they indulge; by the riotous revel, and
the midnight, or rather morning, hours to
which they prolong their festivity ; they
have debilitated their bodies, and worn out
their spirits. Satiated with the repetition
of their accustomed pleasures, and yet un-
able to find any new ones in their place ;
wanderir.g round and round their former
haunts of joy, and ever returning disap-
pointed; weary of themselves, and of all
things a])out them, their spirits are op-
pressed with a deadly gloom, and tlie com-
plaint bursts forth of odious life and a mi-
serable world. Never are these complaints
more frequent than at the close of rounds
of amusement, and after a long repetition
of festal pleasures; when the spirits which
had been forced up, as by some intoxicat-
B 3 ing
6 On the Causes of
SERM. ing drug, to an unnatural height, subside
J^ into profound dejection. What increases
the evil is, that it is not among the infirm,
and the aged, but among the young, the
gay, and the prosperous, who ought to be
reputed the happiest men, that this distaste
of life most frequently prevails.
When persons of this description, in
their peevish and splenetic hours, exclaim,
J\ly soul is iveary of my life, let them kn ow,
let them be assured, that this is no other
than the judgment of God overtaking them
for their vices and follies. Their com-
plaints of misery are entitled to no com-
passion ; nay, they are sinful, because they
arise from a sinfM cause ; from a mind
broken and debased by luxury and cor-
ruption . They are the authors of their own
misery, by having thrown away on the
follies of the world those powers which
God had bestowed on them for nobler ends.
— Let them return to the duties of men and
Christians. Let them retreat from frivolitv
and abstain from excess. Let them study
temperance, moderation, and self-com-
mand. By entering on a virtuous and
manly coirrse of action, and applying to
the
Men's beini^ weary of JLife. 7
the honourable discharge of the functioiis serm.
of their station, they will acquire different
views. They will obtain more real enjoy-
ment of life, and become more willing' to
prolong' it. — But, after the warnings which
God has given them of their mis-behavi-
our by the inward misery they suffer, if
they still continue to run the same intem-
perate round, and to drain pleasure to the
last dregs, it shall come to pass, that they
who now contemn life, and are impatient
of its continuance, shall be the persons
most eager to prolong it. When they be-
hold it in reality drawing' towards a close,
and are obliged to look forward to what is
to come after it, they shall be rendered
awfully sensible of its value. They will
then grasp eagerly at the flying hours ;
anxious to stop them if they could, and to
employ every moment that remains in re-
I>airing their past errors, and in making
their peace, if possible, with God and hea-
ven. According as they have sown, they
now reap. They are reduced to eat the
fruit of their own ways, and to be filled
with their own devices.
There remains still a third class of those
B 4 who
8 On the Causes of
SERM. who from discontent are become weary of
^■^^ life ; such as have embittered it to them-
selves by the consciousness of criminal
deeds. They have been, perhaps, unna-
tural to their parents, or treacherous to
their friends ; they have violated their fi-
delity ; have ensnared and ruined the in-
nocent ; or have occasioned the death of
others. There is no wonder that such per-
sons should lose their relish for life. To
whatever arts they may have recourse for
procuring a deceitful peace, conscience
will at times exert its native power, and
shake over them its terrific scourge. The
internal misery they endure has sometimes
arisen to such a height, as had made them
terminate, with their own hands, an exist-
ence which they felt to be insupportable.
To the complaints of such persons no re-
medy can be furnished, excef>t what arises
from the bitterness of sincere and deep re-
pentance. We can do no more than exhort
them to atone as much as is in their power
for the evils they have committed ; and to
fly to the divine mercy, through Jesus
Christ, for pardon and forgiveness. Let us
now,
II. Turn
Men's beitii^' weary of Life* 9
II. Turn to persons of another descrip- serm.
tion, and consider the sentiment in the J^]^
text as exhorted by situations of distress.
These are so variously multiplied in the
world, and often so oppressive and heavy,
that assuredly it is not uncommon to hear
the afflicted complain that they are weary
of life. Their complaints, if not always
allowable, yet certainly are more excusa-
ble than those which flow from the sources
of dissatisfaction already mentioned. They
are sufferers, not so much through their
own misconduct, as through the appoint-
ment of Providence ; and therefore to per-
sons in this situation it may seem more
needful to offer consolation, than to give
admonition. However, as the evils which
produce this impatience of life are of dif-
ferent sorts, a distinction must be made
as to the situations which can most ex-
cuse it.
Sometimes, the exclamation in the text
may be occasioned by deepand overwhelm-
ing grief. When they whom we had most
affectionately loved, and in whom we had
placed the felicity of our days, are taken
away, our connection with life appears to
be
1 0 On the Causes of
SERM be dissolved. Whi/ should we survive
1.
those to whom our souls were tied ? Would
to God ive had died before them ! Now
vjhen thet/ are gone, all pleasure and hope
is gone as to us- To us the sun no longer
shines with its usual brightness. No lon-
ger cheerfulness invests the face of Nature.
On evei'y object a sad gloom appears to
rest ; and every employment of life is he-
come an oppressive burden With the
feelings of those who are thus distressed
we naturally sympathise. They are fre-
quently the feelings of the most virtuous
and amiable minds. And yet such per-
sons must be told, that grief may be indulg-
ed so far as to become immoderate and
improper. There are bounds which are
prescribed to it both by reason and by re-
ligion. A Christian ought not to mourn
lihe those ivho have no hope. While he
feels his sorrows as a man, he should also
study to bear them like a man, with for-
titude ; and not abandon himself to feeble
and fruitless melancholy. Let him have
recourse to a strenuous discharge of the
duties of his station, and consider it as in-
cumbent on him to make the best improve-
ment
Men's being- weary of Life. 11
inent that he can of those comforts which srrm.
Providence has still left in his possession. _^^
Again ; it sometimes happens that, apart
from grief, great reverses of worldly for-
tune give rise to the lamentation in the
text. This was the case with Job himself.
A sudden fall from opulence into indi-
gence and want ; some undeserved dis-
grace incurred, or some unexpected cloud
thrown over former reputation and fame
the unkind ness and desertion of friends^
or the insolent triumph of enemies, are apt
toover^vhelm theminds ofmen with gloom,
and to reduce them to be weary of life.
To persons under such calamities, sympa-
thy is due. That sympathy, however,
will be proportioned to the degree in which
we consider them, as free from blame in
the misfortunes v/hich they suffer. As far
as, through their own misconduct and
vice, they have been the authors to them-
selves of those misfortunes, we withdraw
our pity. The burden which they have
brought on themselves, we leave them to
bear as they can; and with little concern
we hear them exclaim, that their sonls are
weary of life. Not only so, but even in
cases
12 On the Causes of
SERM. cases where calamities liave fallen on the
^^ innocent, to the pity which we feel for
them will be joiited a secret contempt, if
we perceive that, together with their pros-
perity, their courage and fortitude have
also forsaken them. To abandon them-
selves to dejection carries no mark of a
great or a worthy mind. Instead of declar-
ing that his soul is iveary of his life, it be-
comes a brave and a good man, in the evil
day, with firmness to maintain his post, to
bear up against the storm; to have re-
course to those advantages which, in the
worst of times, are always left to integrity
and virtue ; and never to give up the hope
that better days may yet arise.
It is good for persons in such situations,
to remark that, though Job was for a long
while severely tried by a variety of dis-
tresses, yet his condition was not left fi-
nally unhappy. On the contrary, the
goodness of that God whom he had served
returned at last to shine upon him with
greater brightness than ever. His riches
were restored to him twofold. The losses
in his family were repaired by a new off-
spring. His name became again renowned
in
Men's being- weary of Life-
in the east; and the latter end of Job, v. v. seum
are told, was more blessed than the be- \^,^^^
ginning.
But still it may be asked, will not the
continuance of lon^ and severe disease
justify the exclamation in the text, JMi/
soul is weary of my life ? To persons who
are forsaken by all the blessings of health,
and w ho have no prospect left, but that of
lingering under sickness or pain. Job's
complaint may assuredly be forgiven more
than to any others. Though it might be
suggested to them, that even in old age
and sickness, except in very extreme cases,
some resources are always left, of which
they may avail themselves for relief; yet
it must be admitted, that •lawfully they
may wish their sufferings to be brought to
an end. Still, however, they must re-
member, that resignation to the pleasure
of Heaven continues to be their duty to
the last. As long as any part remains to
be acted, as long as their continuance in
the world can serve any valuable pur-
pose; It is more honourable to bear the
load with magnanimity, than to give «ay
to
14 On the Causes of
SERM to a querulous and dejected spirit. It
, ^' , remains,
III. To address myself to another order
of men, among whom, though more rarely
than among those whom I have described,
the sentiment of the text is to be found.
They are persons who have no particular
complaint to make of the injustice of the
world, or the afflictions of their state. But
they are tired of the vanity of the world,
of its insipid enjoyments, and its perpetu^
ally revolving circle of trifles and follies.
They feel the)iiselves made for something^
greater and nobler. They are disgusted
and hurt with the scenes of wickedness
that are often passing before their eyes.
Their hearts are warmed v^ith the thoughts
of a purer and more perfect existence de-
signed for jnan ; and in the moments ot as-
piration after it, the exclamation breaks
forth, Aly soul is weary of my life. Oh !
that I had wings lihe a dove ! for then 1
would fly aK ay and he at rest. Lo ! then
I would wander far off, and remain in the
wilderness. I would hasten my escape
from the windy storm and tempest. For 1
have
Men's being weary oj Lt'ife. lt>
liaxje $een violence and strife in the city. serm.
Wickedness is in the midst titer eof; deceit .J:^
and guile depart not from her streets. In
this view the sentiment in the text may
sometimes be that of a devout man. But
such persons I must admonish, that their
devotion, however sincere, is not altoge-
ther of a rational and chastened kind. It
was from this temper that, in former ages
of the church, the numerous race sprung
of anchorets, hermits, and all the various
orders who voluntarily abandoned the
world, to people the lonely deserts and the
monastic retreat. The ordinary course of
things seemed below them as candidates
for heaven. The concerns of the world
appeared unworthy of their attention, an J
dangerous to their virtue. Breathing af-
ter a higher state, they imagined that
they could not abstract themselves too
much from every earthly amusement, as
long as they were forced to remain in this
place of exile.
Let us beware of all such imaginary re-
finements as produce a total disrelish of
our present condition. They are, for the
most part, grafted either on disappointed
pursuits.
16 On the Causes of
sFRM. pursuits, or on a melancholy and s])iene-
_.;_, tic cast of mind. They are far from con-
tribntingto happiness, and are inconsistent
with ail the active virtues of men. This
life deserves not indeed to be put in com
petition with that blessed immortality to
which God has raised our hopes. But
such as it is, it is the gift of God. It is the
&|)herein which his wisdom has placed us,
and appointed us to act our parts. As long
as it lasts, we must neither slight the du-
ties which it requires, nor undervalue the
innocent enjoyments which it offers. It
belongs to a man to live among men as
his brethren ; which he who declares him-
self weary of life is not qualified to do with
propriety.
Thus I have placed before you, in vari-
ous views, the sentiment in the text; and
have shown m what circumstances, and
what causes, that disrelish of life arises
which is often found among mankind. On
a review of the whole, we cannot but ac-
knowledge, that it is oftener to be ascribed
to our own vices and follies, than to any
other cause. Among the multitudes in
the
^Men's beltii; near if of Life. 17
the world, to wlioiii iit this day life is bur- siikm.
densome, the far 'greater niiiiiber is of those
who have rendered it so themselves, llieir
idleness, their luxury and pleasures, their
criminal deeds, their immoderate passions,
their timidity and baseness of mind, have
dejected them in such a degree, as to make
them weary of their existence. Preyed
upon by discontent of their own creating-,
they complain of life, when they ought to
reprehend themselves.
Various afflictions there doubtless are in
the world; many persons with whom we
have cause to sympathise, and whom we
might reasonably forgive for wishing death
to close their sorrows. But of the evils
which embitter life, it must be admitted,
that the greater part is such as we have
brought on ourselves ; or at least such as,
if we were not wanting to ourselves, might
be tolerably supported. When we com-
pute the numbers of those who are dis-
posed to say, My soul is iveary of my life,
some there are to whom this sentiment is
excusable ; but many more among whom
it is in no way justifiable. I admit, that
among the worthiest and the best, there
VOL. IV. C may
18 On the Causes of
SERM. may be dark moments, in which some
J^^^ feeling of this nature may be apt to intrude
upon their minds. But with them there
are only moments of occasional and pas-
sing" gloom. They soon recal the vigour
of their minds, and return with satisfaction
to the discharge of the duties, and to a par-
ticipation of the enjoyments of life.
One great cause of men's becoming
weary of life, is grounded on the mistaken
views of it which they have formed, and
the false hopes which they have entertain-
ed from it. They have expected a scene of
enjoyment ; and when they meet with dis-
appointments and distresses, they complain
of life as if it had cheated and betrayed
them. God ordained no such possession
for man on earth as continued pleasure.
For the wisest purposes he designed our
state to be chequered with jjleasure and
pain. As such let us receive it, and make
the best of what is doomed to be our lot.
Let us remain persuaded, that simple and
moderate pleasures are always the best ;
that virtue and a good conscience are the
surest foundations of enjoyment ; that he
who serves his God and his Saviour with
the
\-»v>^
Jlen's being weary of Life. 1^
the purest intentions, and governs his pas-sERM.
sions witJi the greatest care, is likely to lead ^
the happiest life. Following these princi-
ples, we shall meet with few«r occasions of
being weary of life ; we shall always find
some satisfactions mixed with its crosses ;
and shall be enabled to wait with a hum-
ble and contented mind till the Almighty,
in his appointed time, finish our state of
trial, and remove us to a more blessed
abode.
L 20 J
SERMON II.
On Charity as the End of the Com-
mandment.
1 Timothy, i. 5.
Moiv the end of the commatuhnent is cJia-
rity, out of a pure heart, and of a good
conscience, and oj' faith unfeigned.
^^n^^" ^^ appears from this chapter, that one
^,^ JL design of the Apostle, in writing- to
Timothy, was to gnard him against cer-
tain corrupters of Christian doctrine, who
had already arisen in the church. To
their false representations of religion, he
opposes that general view of it which is
given in the text. Such summaries of re-
ligion frequently occur in the sacred writ-
ings;
Oil Charity as the End, Sfc. 21
uigs; and are extremely useful. By the skrm.
comprehensive energy with which they ^^
express the great lines of our duty, they
both imprint them on our memory, and
bring them home to our conscience with
force. In the progress of this discourse, I
hope to make it appear, that the words of
the text afford a most enlarged and in-
structive view of religion in all its chief
parts.
The Apostle pronounces charity to be
the end or scope of the cofnmandment, that
is, of the law of God. At the same time,
in order to prevent mistakes on this most
important subject, he subjoins to charity
certain adjuncts, as necessary to qualify it,
and to render the Christian character com-
plete. These are, the pure heart, the good
conscience, and faith unfeigned. In treat-
ing of these, I shall show the nature of
their connection with charity, and the
importance of their being always united
with it.
The end of the commandment is charity.
Charity is the same with benevolence or
love ; and is the term uniformly employ-
ed, in the New Testament, to denote all
C 3 the
22 On Charity as the End
SERM. ^he good affections which we ought to
^^' bear towards one another. It consists not
in speculative ideas of general benevo-
lence floating in the head, and leaving the
heart, as speculations too often do, un-
touched and cold. Neither is it confined
to that indolent good-nature, which makes
us rest satisfied with being free from inve-
terate malice, or ill will to our fellow-
creatures, without prompting us to be of
service to any. True charity is an active
principle. It is not properly a single vir-
tue ; buta disposition residing in the heart,
as a fountain whence all the virtues of be-
nignity, candour, forbearance, generosity,
compassion, and liberality flow, as so many
native streams. From general good will
to all, it extends its influence particularly
to those with whom we stand in nearest
connection, and who are directly within
the sphere of our good oflices. From the
country or community to which we belong,
it descends to the smaller associations of
neighbourhood, relations, and friends ;
and spreads itself over the whole circle of
social and domestic life. I mean not that
it imports a promiscuous undistinguishing
alfectioii,
of the Commandment. 23
iirtkction, whicli gives every man an eqiia^ serm.
title to our love. Charity, if we should J^
endeavour to carry it so lar, would be ren-
dered an impracticable virtue, and would
resolve itself into mere words, without ai-
fectiuG^ the heart. True charity attempts
not to shut our eyes to the distinction be-
tween good and bad men ; nor to warm
our hearts equally to those who befriend
and those who injure us. It reserves our
esteem for good men, and our complacency
for our friends. Towards our enemies it
spires forgiveness and humanity. It
breathes universal candour, and liberality
of sentiment. It forms gentleness of tem-
per, and dictates affability of manners. It
prompts corresponding sympathies with
them who rejoice and them who weep. It
teaches us to slight and despise no man.
Charity is the comforter of the afflicted,
the protector of the oppressed, the recon-
ciler of differences, the intercessor for of-
fenders. It is faithfulness in the friend,
])ublic spirit in the magistrate, equity and
patience in tli.e judge, moderation in the
sovereign, and loyalty in the subject. In
parents it is care and attention, in chil-
C4
24 On Charifij as the End
SERM. c«ren it is reverence and subirassion. In a
^^' word, it is the soul of social life. It is the
sun that enlivens and cheers the abodes of
men. It is like the dew of Hermon, says
{he Psalmist, and the dew that descendeth
on the mountains of Z ion, where the Lord
commanded the blessing, even life for ever-
inore.
Such charity, say sthe text, in the end of the
eommandment. Thisasserlion of the Apos-
tle is undoubtedly consonant toall that rea-
son can sn^T^e^^t ou Hue subject of religion.
For, on considering the nature of the Su-
preme Being, reason gives us much ground
to believe ; that the chief design of all the
coramandmentswhich he hasgiven to men,
is to promote their happiness. Independent
and self-sufficient, that Supreme Being has
nothing to exact from us for his own in-
terest or felicity. By our services he can-
not be benefited, nor by our offences injur-
ed. When he created the world, it was be-
nevolence that moved him to confer exist-
ence. When he made himself known to
his creatures, benevolence, in like manner,
moved him to give them laws for tljeir con-
duct. Benevolence is the spring of legis-
lation
II.
of the Commandment. 26
iation in the Deity, as much as it was the frni
motive of creation. He issued his com-
mands on earth on purpose that, by obedi-
ence to them, his creatures might be ren-
dered happy among' themselves in this
life, and be prepared for greater happiness
in another. Charity, especially when join-
ed with purity, good conscience, and faith,
is obviously the great instrument for this
purpose ; and therefore must needs pos-
sess the chief and primary place in the
Jaws of God.
Accordingly 5 throughout the New Tes-
tament, it is uniformly presented to us in
the same light in which it is placed by the
text. This is known to all who have any
acquaintance with the sacred books. Cha-
rity is termed the fulfilling of the law, and
the bond of perfectness. It was assumed
by our blessed Lord as the characteristical
distinction of his disciples; and in that
magnificent eulogium which the apostle
Paul pronounces upon it, in the thirteenth
chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthi-
ans, it is expressly preferred by him to
faith and hope. This deserves to be se-
'riously considered by those who are apt to
undervalue
26 On Charity as the End
SERM. undervalue charity as an appendage of
s^^;^ what they contemptuously call Morality ;
while they confine true religion to some
favourite tenets and observances of their
own, which they consider as comprehend-
ing the sum of what is acceptable to God.
Such persons show themselves profoundly
ignorant of the nature of religion, and may
too often be suspected of being strangers to
its influence. For as the apostle John rea-
sons, He that loveth not his brother whom
he hath seen, how can he love that God whom
he hath not seen ?
At the same time, while \ ascribe to cha-
rity that high place in the system of reli-
gion, which justly belongs to it, I am not
to be understood as confining all religion
to this disposition alone. With much wis-
dom and propriety, the text hath annexed
to it certain adjuncts, without which nei-
ther the character of a good man can
be completed, nor charity itself exer-
cised to advantage. To the consideration
of these I now proceed ; and I enter the
more readily on this branch of the subject,
as there is ground to believe, that many
pretend to possess charity, without pro-
perly
of the Comrnandment. 27
perly understanding its nature and effi- serm
cacy. There has been always an unliappy
tendency among men to run to extremes,
on one side or other, in matters of religion.
As one set of men, who employ all their
zeal on right belief, are prone to undervalue
good practice ; so another set, who wish to
be esteemed rational Christians, are in-
clined to rest the whole of their duty
on charitable deeds, while they over-
look certain dispositions and habits which
ought always to accompany them. It
is therefore of importance that the mis-
takes of both these classes of men should
be rectifiefl, in order that religion may
be held forth to the world in its comjilete
form, and in its full and undiminished
lustre.
The first qualification of charity pointed
out in the text is purity ; charity out of a
pure heart. Purity includes the virtues
which belong to the individual, considered
in himself, and with respect to the govern-
ment of his desires and pleasures. It hath
its seat in the heart ; but extends its influ-
ence
28 On Charity as the End
SERM. ence over so much of the outward conduct,
i^l. as to form a great and material part of the
character. They are only the pure in heart,
we are told by our Saviour, ivho can see
God. It is also true, that they are only the
pure in heart, who can properly discharge
their duties towards mankind. Inordi-
nate love of pleasure, intemperance, sen-
suality, and a course of irregular life, are
inconsistent, not only with the general cha-
racter of a good man, but also with the pe-
culiar exercises of charity and benevolence.
For nothing is more certain than that ha-
bits of licentious indulgence contribute to
stifle all the good affections ; to harden the
heart; to nourish that selfish attachment
to our own vicious pleasures which renders
us insensible to the circumstances and
wants of others. A profligate man is sel-
dom found to be a good husband, a good
father, or a beneficent neighbour. How
many young persons have at first set out in
the world with excellent dispositions of
heart ; generous, charitable, and humane;
kind to their friends, and amiable among
all with whom they had intercourse ?
And yet how often have we seen all those
fair
of the Coinmandment. 29
fair appearances uiiliappily blasted in the serm.
progress of life, merely through tl»e infiu- J^^
eiice of loose and corrupting- ])leasures;
and those very persons, wlio promised once
to be blessings to the world, sunk down in
the end, to be the burden and nnisance of
society ! The profusion of expence which
their pleasures occasion, accounts in a great
measure for the fatal reverse that takes
place in their character. It not only drains
the sources whence the streams of benefi-
cence should flow, but often obliges them
to become oppressive and cruel to those
whom it was their duty to have patronised
and supported.
Purity of heart, andconduct must tliere-
fore be held fundamental to charity and
love, as well as to general piety and vir-
tue. The licentious, I know, are ready
to imagine, that their occasional deeds of
bounty and liberality will atone for many
of their private disorders. But, besides
that such plaiis of compensation for vices,
by some supposed virtues, are always fal-
lacious, the licentious may be assured, that
it is an appearance only of charity, not the
reality of it, to which they can lay claim.
For
30 On Charity as the End
SERM. For that great virtue consists not in occa-
^^' sional actions of humanity, in fits of kind-
ness or compassion, to which bad men
may be prompted by natural instinct ; but
in the steady and regular exercise of those
good aflections, and the discharge of those
important duties towards others, for which
the licentious are in a great measure dis-
qualified. Their criminal propensities di-
rect their inclinations to very different ob-
jects and pursuits, and often determine
them to sacrifice the just rights of others,
sometimes to sacrifice the peace and the
reputation of the innocent, to the gratifi-
cation of their passions. Such is fhe per-
nicious influence which the love of pleasure
has on the good qualities of its devoted
votaries. The impure heart is like the
stagnant and putrifying lake, which sends
forth its poisonous exhalations to corrupt
and wither every plant that grows on its
banks.
The second qualification annexed to
Charity, in the text, is, that it be of a good
conscience. By this T understand the
Apostle to mean, that charity be in full
consistency
of the Commandment. »31
consistency with justice and integrity ; thatsEiiM.
the conscience of the man, who i)urposes ^^
to perform actions of benevolence, be free
from the reproach of having* neglected the
primary duties of equity . For, nndou bted-
ly, justice is a virtue primary to charity ;
that is, it must go before it in all its exer-
tions. One must iirst do jus tit/, before he
can pretend that he loves 7n€rcy. — Reli-
gion, my friends, in order to render it use-
ful to mankind, must be brought down by
its teachers from the sublimity of specula-
tion to the functions and occupations of
ordinary life. It is my duty to admonish
you, that you must, in the first place, be'
tkir in all your dealing with others ; you
must discharge the debts you owe; you
must pay the wages due to your servants
and dependents i you must provide for
your own family, and be just to the claims
of relations ; then, and then only, you can,
from a good conscience, as the text en-
joins, perform acts of generosity and
mercy.
Thi8 leads to a reflection which here
deserves our attention; that, in order to
fulfil
32 On Charity as the End
SERM, fulfil that charity which is the end of the
-^^ commandment, economy, and good order
in private life, ought to be carefully studi-
ed by all Christians. This is more closely
connected with a good conscience, than
many seem inclined to admit. Economy,
when prudently and temperately conduct-
ed, is the safeguard of many virtues; and is
in a particular manner favourable to the
exertions of benevolence. He who by
inconsiderate conduct is injuring his cir-
cumstances, will probably in time lose the
inclination, and certainly is depriving him-
self of the means, of being serviceable to
liis brethren. Some important exertions,
indeed, there are of charity, which have
r»o connection with giving or bestowing.
Candour, forgiveness, gentleness, and sym-
pathy, are doe to our brethren at all times,
and in every situation of our own fortune.
The poor have opportunities for displaying
these virtues as well as the ricli. They
who have nothing to give, can often afford
relief to others, by imparting what they
feel. But, as far as beneficence is includ-
ed in charity, we ought always to remem-
ber.
of the Commandment. 33
ber, that justice must, in tlie first place, serm.
be held inviolably sacred. J^
The Wisdom of Scripture remarkably
appears, in the connection pointed out by
the text between charity and good consci-
ence or integrity ; a coiuiection which I
apprehend is often not attended to so
much as it deserves. Among' the frugal
and industrious, great regard is commonly
paid to justice. They will not defraud.
They will not take any unlawful advan-
tage in their dealings : And, satisfied with
this degree of good conscience, they are
strangers to that charity which is the end
of the commandment. They are hard and
unfeeling. They are rigid and severe in
their demands. They know nothing of
humanity, forgiveness, or compassion. —
Among another class of men, who have
been more liberally educated, and who
are generally of a higher rank in life, jus-
tice is apt to be considered as a virtue less
noble than charity ; and which may on
some occasions be dispensed with. They
are humane, perhaps, and tender in their
feelings. They are easy to their depend-
ents. They can be liberal, even to profu-
voL. IV. D sion.
34 Oh Charity as the End
SERM. sion. While, at the same time, they are
,^.^^ accumulating debts, which they know
themselves unable to discharge. Their
affairs are allowed to run into confusion.
Economy and good order are neglected.
The innocent, in great numbers, suffer
materially by their mismanagement : And
all the while they assume to themselves
the praise of being generous and good-
hearted men. This surely is not that cha-
rity which the Gospel enjoins ; and which,
in its very essence, involves good consci^
ence and integrity. He, who pretends to
do good to his brethren without first doing
them justice, cannot be accounted their
real friend. True charity is not a meteor,
which occasionally glares ; but a luminary,
which, in its orderly and regular course,
dispenses a benignant influence.
The third and last adjunct connected in
the text with charity is, that it be of faith
unfeigned. Faith, in the scripture sense
of it, includes the whole of religious prin-
ciples respecting God, and respecting
Christ. Good principles, without good
practice, I confess, are nothing ; they are
of
of the Commandment. 35
of no avail in the ^\%\\i of God, nor in the serm,
• II
estimation of wise men. But practice not
founded on principle is likely to be always
unstable and wavering ; and, therefore,
the faith of religious principles enters, for
a very considerable share, into the proper
discharge of the duties of charity.
It will be admitted that, without faith,
our duties towards God cannot be properly
performed. You may be assured that your
duties towards men will always greatly
suffer from the want of it. Faith, when
pure and genuine, supplies to every part
of virtue, and in particular to the virtue of
charity, many motives and assistances, ot
which the unbeliever is destitute. He who
acts from faith, acts upon the high princi-
ple of regard to the God who made him,
and to the Saviour who redeems him ;
which will often stimulate him to his duty
when other principles of benevolence be-
come faint and languid, or are crossed by
opposite interests. When he considers
himself as pursuing the approbation of that
divine Being, from whom love descends,
a sacred enthusiasm both prompts and
consecrates his charitable dispositions. Re-
D 2 gardle^s
30 On Charity as the End
SERM. gardless of men, or of human recompence,
J^ lie is carried along by a higher im]mlse.
He acts with the spirit of a follow er of the
Son of God, who not only has enjoined
love, but has enforced it by the example
of laying- down his life for mankind. What-
ever he does in behalf of his fellow-crea-
tures, he considers himself as doirig, in
some degree to that divine Person, who
hath said. Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto one of the least of these my brethren^
ye have done it unto me. Hence charity is
with him not only a moral virtue, but a
Christian grace. It acquires additional
dignity and energy from being connected
with the heavenly state, and the heavenly
inhabitants. He mingles with beings of a
higher order, while he is discharging his
duty to his fellow-creatures on earth ; and
by joining faith and piety to good works,
he completes the character of a Chris-
tian.
Thus I have endeavoured to explain the
full sense of that comprehensive view of
religion which is given in the text I have
shown in what respects charity ^oineA with
the
of the Commandment. 37
the pureheatH, the good conscience, «w</si:rm.
faith unfeigned, lorius the end of t lie com- ^^
mandnient. Let us ever keep in view those
essential j>arts of a virtuous charac^ter, and
preserve theiii in their i)roper union. 1 hus
shall our religion rise into a regular and
well-proportioned edifice, where each part
gives firmness and su|)port to another. If
any one of those material parts be wanting
in the structure; if, out of our system of
chaiity, either purity, or justice, or faith,
be left, there will be cracks and fiaws in
the building, which prepares its ruin.
This is indeed one of the greatest and
most frequent errors of men, in their moral
conduct. They take hold of virtue by
pieces and corners only. Few are so de-
praved as to be without all sense of duty,
and all regard to it. To some moral qua-
lities, which appear to them amiable. or
esti. liable, almost all men lay claims ; and
on these they rest their worth in their own
estimation. But these scattered pieces of
virtue, not uniting into one whole, nor
forming a consistent character, have no
powerful influence on their general habits
I>3 of
38 On Charity as the E?id, Sfc.
SERM. of life. From various iniguarded quarters
^'^ they lie open to temptation. Their lives
are full of contradiction, and perpetually
fluctuate between good and evil. Virtue
can neitijer rise to its native dignity^ nor
attain its proper rewards, until all its chief
parts be joined together in our character,
and exert an equal authority in regulating
our conduct.
[ 39 J
SERMON III.
On our Lives Being in the Hand of
God.
[Preached at the Beginning of a New Year — January 6th, 1793.
Psalm xxxi. 15.
Mg times are in thy hand. —
THE sun that rolls over our heads, the serm.
food that we receive, the rest that
we enjoy, daily admonish us of a superior
power, on whom the inhabitants of the
earth depends for light, life, and subsist-
ence. But as long as all things proceed in
their ordinary course; when day returns
after day with perfect similarity : when
our life seems stationary, and nothing
D 4 occurs
40 On our Lives being
SERM. occurs to Wcirn us of any approaching
J^ cliaijge, the religious sentiments of depend-
ence are a^jt to be forgotten. The great
revolutions of time, when they come round
in their stated orJer, have a tendency to
force some impressions of piety, even on
the most unthinking minds. They both
mark our existence on earth to be advanc-
ing towaids its close, and exhibit our con-
dition as continually changing : while
each returning year brings along with it
new events, and at tlie same time carries us
forwards to the conclusion of all. We
cannot, on such occasions, avoid perceiv-
ing, that there is a Supreme Being, who
holds in his hands the line of our existence,
and measures out to each of us our allotted
portion of that line. Beyond a certain
limit, it may be cut asunder by an invisi-
ble hand, which is stretched forth over all
the inhabitants of the world. Then natu-
rally arises the ejaculation of the text. My
times, O God, are in thy hand. JMy fate
depends on thee. The duration of my life,
and all the events ivhich in future days
are to fill it, are entirely at thy disposal. —
Let us now, when we have just seen one
year
in the Hand of God. 41
year clo<;e, and another bei^in, meditate serm
seriously on this sentiment. Let us con-
sider what is implied in ottr times being in
the hand -yfGod; and to wliat improve-
ment this meditrUion leads.
The text evidently implies, first, that
our times are not in our own hand ; that,
as our continiiance in lite depends not on
ourselves, so the events which are to hap-
pen while life remains, are unknown to
lis, and not under our own direction. Of
this we may behohl many a proof, when
we look back on the transactions of the
year which is just tinished. Recollection
will readily present to us a busy period,
filled up with a mixture of business and
amusement, of anxieties and care, of joys
and sorrows. We have talked, perhaps,
and acted much. We have fornied many
a plan ; in public or in private life, we have
been engaged in a variety of pursuits. Let
me now ask, how small a portion of all that
has happened could have been foreseen,
or foretold by us ? How many things have
occured, of which we had no expectation;
some, perhaps, thathave succeeded beyond
our
42 On otir Lives being-
SERM our hopes ; many, also, that have befallen
"i\ us contrary to oar wisli ? How often were
each of us admonished that there are secret
wheels, which, unseen by us, brin^ about
the revolutions of human affairs ; and that,
while man was devising his way, Provi-
dence was directing' the event?
That scene is now closed. The tale of
that year has been told. We look forward
to the year which is beginning; and what
do:we behold there > All, my brethren, is
a blank to our view. A dark unknown
presents itself. We are entering on an un-
tried, undiscovered country, where, as
each succeeding month comes forward,
new scenes may open ; new objects may
engage our attention ; changes at home or
abroad, in public or in private affairs, may
alter the whole state of our fortune. New
connections may be at hand to be formed,
or old ones just about to be dissolved;
perhaps we may have little more to do with
this world, or with any of its connections;
we may be standing on the verge of time
and life, and on the point of passing into a
new region of existence. In short, the
prospect before us is full of awful uncer-
in the Hand of God, 43
tainty. Life and death, prosperity andsERM.
adversity, health and sickness, joy and v^^^'
trouble, lie in oneundistinguishable mass,
where our eye can descry nothing through
the obscurity that wraps them up.
While it is thus certain, that our times
are not at our own disposal, we are taught
by the text, that they are in the hand of
God. This may be considered in two
views. Our times are in the hand of God,
as a supreme Disposer of events. They
are in the hand of God, as a Guardian and
a Father.
Our times, I say, are in the hand of God
as a supreme irresistible Ruler. All that
is to happen to us in this and the succeed-
ing years of our life— if any succeeding
years we shall be allowed to see — has been
foreknown and arranged by God. The
first view under which human affairs pre-
sent themselves to us, is that of confused
and irregular succession. The events of
the world seem thrown together by chance,
like the billows of the sea, tumbling and
tossing over each other, without rule or
order. All that is apparent to us is the
fluctuation of human caprice, and the ope-
ration
'14 On our Lives being
SI R\i. ration of human passions. We see the
,^^ strife of ambition, and the efforts of strata-
gem, labouring to accomplish their several
purposes among' the societies of men, Bnt
it is no more than the surface, the out side
of things that we behold. Higher counsels,
than it IS m our power to trace, are concern-
ed in the transactions of the world. If we
believe in God at all, as the Governor of
the universe, we must believe, that without
his Providence nothing happens on earth.
He over rules, at his pleasure, the passions
of men. He bends all their designs into
subserviency to his decree. He makes the
wrath qfinen to praise him ; and restrains,
in what measure he thinks fit, the remainder
of wrath. He brings forth in their course
all the generations of men. When the
time is come for their entering into light,
they appear on the stage ; and when the
time fixed for their dismission arrives, he
changes their countenance, and sends them
away. The time of our appearing is now
come, after our ancestors had left their
place, and gone down to the dust. We
are at present permitted to act our part
freely nud without constranit. No violence
is
in the Hand of God. 45
is (lone to our iinJinalion or choice. But seum
assuredly there is not a day of our life, nor ^l^
an event in that t'ay, but was foreseen by
God. That succession of occurrences,
which to us is full of obscurity and dark-
ness, is all light and order in his view. He
sees from the beginning to the end ; and
brings forward every thing that happens,
in its due time and place.
Our times are altogether in his hand.
Let us take notice, that they are not in the
hands either of our enemies, or of our
iViends. It is not in the power of man to
shorten or to prolong our life, more or less
than God has decreed. Enemies may em-
ploy craft or violence in their attacks :
friends may employ skill and vigilance for
the preservation of our health and safety ;
but both the one and the other can have
effect only as far as God permits. They
work in subservience to his promise. By
him they are held in invisible bonds. To
the exertions of all human agents he says.
Hitherto shalt thou come, and no farther.
We are to observe next, tfiat our times
are in the hand of God, not only as an al-
mighty
46 On our Lives being
SERM. mighty Disposer, but as a merciful Guar-
"^* dian and Father. We are by no means to
imagine, that from race to race, and from
year to year, God sports with the lives of
succeeding generations of men, or, in the
mere wantonness of arbitrary power, brings
them forth, and sends them away. No; if
we have any confidence in what either the
light of Nature suggests to all men, or what
the revelation of the Gospel has confirmed
to Christians, we have full ground to be-
lieve, that the administration of human af-
fairs is conducted with infinite wisdom and
goodness. The counsels of the Almighty
are too deep for our limited understandings
to trace. His path may often, as to us,
be in the sea, and his footsteps in the mighty
waters ; while, nevertheless, all his paths
are mercy and truth. He who, from the
benignity of his nature, erected this world
for the abode of men ; He who furnished it
so richly for our accommodation, and stor-
ed it with so much beauty for our enter-
tainment ; He who, since first we entered
into life, hath /ollowe i us v ith such a va-
riety of mercies, surely can have no plea-
sure tn our disappointment and distress.
m
in the Hand of God. 47
He knows our frame \ He remembers tr e serm.
HI.
are dust; and looks to fr^il man, we are
assured, with such pity as a father beareth
to his children. To him we may safely
commit ourselves, and all our concerns, as
to one who is best qualified, both to direct
the incidents proper to happen to us in
this world, and to judge of the time when
it is fit for us to be removed from it.
Even that ignorance of our future des-
tiny in life, of which we sometimes com-
plain, is a signal proof of his goodness. He
hides from us the view of futurity, because
the view would be dangerous and over-
powering. It vv ould either dispirit us with
visions of terror, or intoxicate us by the
disclosure of success. The veil which co-
vers from our sight the events of this and
of succeeding years, is a veil woven by the
hand of mercy . Our times are in his hand;
and we have reason to be glad that in his
hand they are kept, shut out from our view.
Submit to his pleasure as an almighty Ru-
ler we must, because we cannot resist him.
Equal reason theie is for trusting in him
as a Guardian, under whose disposal we
.\re safe.
Such
48 On our Lives bein^
SERM Such is the import of tiie text, that our
^^\ times are in the hand of God. Our times
are unknown to us, and not under our own
direction. They are in the hands of God
as a Governor and Ruler ; in the hands of
God as a Guardian and Father. These
separate views of the text require, on our
part, separate improvements.
Seeing our times are not in our own
hand, seeing futurity is unknown to us, let
us, first, check the vain curiosity of pene-
trating into what is to come. Conjecture
about futurity we often must; but upon
all conjectures of wliat this year is to pro-
duce, let us lay a proper restraint. Let us
wait till God shall bring forward events in
their proper course, without wishing to
discover what he has concealed ; lest, if
the discovery were granted, we should see
many things which we would wish not to
have seen.
The most common propensity of man-
kind is to store futurity with whatever is
agreeable to them ; especially in those
])eriods of life when imagination is lively,
and hope is ardent. Looking forward to
the
in the Hand of God. 49
the year now beginning, tliey are ready to skrm.
promise themselves much from the foun- ^'
dations of prosperity which they have laid ;
from the friendsliipsand connexions which
they have secured ; from the plans of con-
duct'which they have formed. Alas! how
deceitful do all these dreams of happiness
often prove ! While many are saying in
secret to their hearts. To-morrow shall be
as this day, and more abnndanily, we are
obliged in return to say to tliem, boast not
thyself of to-morrow, for thou hnoivest not
what a day may bring forth- I do not
mean, that in the unknown prospect which
lies before us we should forebode to our-
selves nothing but misfortunes. May it be
the pleasure of Heaven that this year run
on in a placid and tranquil tenor to us all !
But this I say, that in such foresight of
futurity as we are allowed to take, we may
reckon upon it as certain, that tliis year
shall prove to us, as many past have prov-
ed, a chequered scene of some comforts
and some troubles. In what proportion
one or other of these shall prevail in it;
whether, when it ends, it shall leave with
us the memory of joys or of sorrows, is to
VOL. IV. E be
60 On our Lives being
SERM. l>e determined by him in whose hands our
"^" times are. Our wisdom is, to be prepared
for whatever the year is to bring; prepared
to receive comforts with thankfulness,
troubles with fortitude; and to improve
both for the great purposes of virtue and
eternal life.
Another important instruction which
naturally arises from our times not being
in our own hands is, that we ought no lon-
ger to trifle with what it is not in our power
to prolong : but that we should make haste
to live as wise men ; not delaying till to-
morrow what may be done to-day ; doing
now ivith all our might whatever our hand
Jindeth to do ; before that night comet h
wherein no man can work.
Amidst the uncertainty of the events
which are before us, there is one thing we
have too much reason to believe, namely,
that of us, who are now assembled in this
congregration, and who have seen the year
begin, there are some who shall not sur-
vive to see it close. Whether it shall be
you, or you, or T, who shall be gathered to
our fathers before the revolving year has
finished its round, God alone knows. Our
times
in the Hand of God. 51
times are in his hand f — But to our place serm.
it is more than probable that some of us *"'
shall liave gone. Could we foretel the
month, or the day, on which our change
was to happen, how diligent would we be
in setting our house in order, and prepar-
ing ourselves to appear before our Maker?
Surely, that ought to be prepared for with
most care, concerning which we are igno-
rant how soon it is to take place. Let us
therefore walk circumspecti y ^ and redeem
the time. Let us dismiss those trivial and
superfluous cares which burden or corrupt
our life ; in order to attend to what is of
highest importance to us as men and Chris-
tians. The beginning of each year should
carry to us all a solemn admonition of our
folly in neglecting to improve suitably the
years that are past. It should call up mis-
pent time into our view ; and be like the
hand coming forth upon the wall, in the
days of Belshazzar, and writing in legible
characters over against us, O man ! thy
days are mwthered ; thou art weighed in
the balance, and fo^nd wanting ; take care
lest thy kingdom be on the point of depart-
ing from thee.
E 2 When
•*V^i^'
;>2 On our Lives bernu
SKHM. When we consider, in the next place,
^^['.. that our times, as I before illustrated, are
in the hand of God as a sovereign Disposer,
it is an obvious inference from this truth,
that we should prepare ourselves to submit
patiently to his pleasure, both as to the
events which are to fill up our days, and as
to the time of our continuing in this world.
To contend with him we know to be fruit-
less. The word that is gone out of his
mouth must stand. In the path which he
has marked out for us, whether it be short
or long, rugged or smooth, we must walk
Is it not then the dictate of wisdom, that
we should previously reconcile ourselves
to this sovereign ordination, and bring our
minds to harmonize with what is appoint-
ed to be our destiny ? Let us fortify this
temper, by recalling this reflection of the
wise man ; who knotveth what is good for
man in this life ; all the days of his vain
life, which he spendeth as a shadow ?
To enjoy long life, and see many days, is
the universal wish ; and, as the wish is
prompted by nature, it cannot be in itself
ui^lawfiil. At the same time, several cir-
cumstances concur to temper the eagerness
of
in the Hand of God. 53
of this wish ; and to show us that it should seiim.
always be found under due submission to J^
the wiser ju<lgnient of Heaven. AVho
among' us can tell whether, in wishin£>' ibr
the continuance of many years on earth,
we may not be only wishing* for a prolon-
gation of distress and misery? — You might,
live, my friends, till you had undergone
lingering rounds of severe pain, for which
death would have proved a seasonable de-
liverance. You might live till your breasts
were pierced v^ith many a wound, from
public calamities or private sorrows. You
might live till you beheld the death of all
whom you had loved ; till you survived
all those who love you ; till you were left
as desolate strangers on earth in the midst
of a new race, who neither knew you, nor
cared for you, but who wished you off the
stage.— Of a nature so ambiguous are all
the prospects which life sets before us,
that in every wish we form relating to them,
much reason we have to be satisfied that
our times are in the hands of God, rather
than our own.
This consideration is greatly strength-
E 3 ened
54 On our Lives being
SERM. ened, wlieii, in the last place, we think of
.^^^ God acting" not as a Sovereign only, but
as a Guardian, in the disposal of our times
This is our great consolation in looking
forward to futurity. To God, as a wise
Ruler, calm submission is due ; but it is
more than submission that belongs to him
as a merciful Father; it is the spirit of
cordial and affectionate consent to his will.
Unknown to us as the times to come are,
it should be sufficient to our full repose
that they are knov* n to God. The day and
the hour which are fixed in his counsels
for our dismission from life, we ought to
be persuaded are fixed for the best ; and
that any longer we should not wish to
remain.
When we see that last hour drawing
nigh, though our spirits may be composed
on our own account, yet on account of our
friends and families, no little anxiety and
sorrow may be sometimes apt to take pos-
session of the mind. Long we have enjoy-
ed the comfort of their society, and been
accustomed to consider them as parts of
ourselves. To be parted from them for
ever is, at any rate, a bitter thought; but
to
in the Hand of God. 65
to the bitterness of this, is over and above serm.
added, the apprthension of their sutfering ^^^"
much by our death. We leave many a
relation, perhaps may leave young chil-
dren, and a helpless family, behind us, to
be exposed to various dangers, and thrown
forth on an unfriendly world. Such vir-
tuous anxieties often oppress the tender
and feeling' heart at the closing periods of
life. — My brethren, look ui> to that God,
in whose hand the times of your fathers
were; in whose hand the times of your
posterity shall be. Recollect, for your
comfort, the experience of ages. When
were the righteous utterly forsaken by God
in times past.> Why should they be for-
saken by him in times to come ? Well did
he govern the world before you had a be-
ing in it. Well shall he continue to go-
vern it after you are no more. No cause
have you, therefore, to oppress your minds
with the load of unknown futurity. Com-
mit your cares to a Father in heaven. Sur-
render your life, your friends, and your fa-
mily, to that God v. ho hath said, The chil-
dren of his servants shall con f inn e, and
th-eir seed shall be estahlLshed before him.
E 4 heave
«>o On our Lives being
SERM. Leave thy fatherless children, I ivill pre-
^^ serve them alive \ and let thy widows trust
in me.
I HAVE thus shown what the import is,
and what the improvement should be, of
the doctrine of the text, that owr times are
in the hand of God. It asserts a fact, the
truth of which can be called in question
by none ; a fact which, whether persons
have any sentiments of religion or not, is
calculated to make a serious impression on
every mind ; especially at seasons when
the revolution of years gives us warning
that our duration on earth is measured,
and advances towards its period. To per-
sons who are religiously disposed, who
study to improve life to its proper purposes,
to do their duty towards God and man,
and through the merits of their Redeemer
to obtain grace and favour from heaven,
the doctrine of the text is still more impor-
tant, A mong them it tends to awaken im-
pressions which are not only serious, but
as I have shown, salutary and comforting
to the heart. — Thankful that our times are
in the hand of a Sovereign, who is both
wise
in the Hand of God. 57
wise and gracious, let us prepare ourselves srrm
to meet the approaching events of life with J^'^
becoming resignation, and at the same time
with manly constancy and firm trust in
God. As long' as it shall please him to
continue our abode in the world, let us re-
main faithful to our duty ; and when it shall
please him to give the command for our
removal hence, let ns utter only this voice;
In thy hand, O 7ny God, my times are.
Thou art calling' me away. Here I am,
ready to obey thy call, and at thy signal
to go forth ■ I thank thee that I have been
admitted to partake so long of the comforts
of life, and to be a spectator of the wisdom
and goodness displayed in thy works, 1
thank ihef" that thou hast borne so long
tvith my infirmities and provocations ; hast
al lowed me to look up to thy promise in
the gospel, and to hear the uords of eter-
nal life uttered by my great Redeemer.
With gratitude, faith and hope, I commit
my soul to thee. Lord, now lettest thou
thy servant depart in peace ; for mine
eyes have seen thy salvation.—Such are
the sentiments with which every pious
and
58 On our Lives being, Sfc.
SERM. and good man should conclude his life.
^^^- 8och indeed are the sentiments which he
ought to carry through every part of life.
With these may we begin, and with these
conclude, every succeeding' year which
God shall think fit to add to our earthly
existence.
[ 59 J
SERMON IV.
On tlie Mixture oi Bad Men with the
Good in Human Society.
Matth. xiii. 30.
Let both grow together until the harvest. —
THE parable, of which these words are serm.
a part, contains a prophetical de- ^J^
scription of the state of tne church. Our
Lord predicts, that the societies of Chris-
tians were to be infected with persons of
loose principles and bad dispositions, whom
he likens to tares springing up among
wheat. He intimates, that there should
arise some whose officious zeal would
prompt
60 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. prompt the desire of exterminating imme-
J^ diately all such evil men ; but that this
were contrary to the designs of Providence,
and to the spirit of Christianity ; that a
complete separation was indeed to be made
at last between the good and the bad ; but
that this separation was to be delayed till
the end of the world, when, in the style of
the parable, the tares should be entirely
gathered out from among the wheat. Let
both gi'ow together until the harvest.
When we look around us, notiiing is
more conspicuous in the state of the ^^orld
than that broad mixture of the religious
and the impious, the virtuous and the
wicked, which we find taking place in every
society. Strong objections seem hence to
arise against either the wisdom or goodness
of divine Providence ; especially wl.rn we
beh<»ld bad men not only tolerated in the
world, but occasionally exalted in their
circumstances, to the depression of the just.
Why, it will be said, if a Supreme Being
exist, and if his justice rule the universe,
does he allow such infamous persons, as
the records of history often present, to have
a place, and even to make a figure in his
world ?
with the Good in Society. C I
world? Why sleeps the thunder idle in serm.
his hand, when it could so easily blast ^^
them? What shall we think of one who,
having" the power of exterminating them
always at his command, permits them to
proceed without disturbance ; nay, some-
times appears to look on them with com-
placency?— It becomes highly worthy of
our attention, to consider what answer can
be made to these objections ; to inquire
whether any reasons can be given that
serve to justify this dispensation of Provi-
dence, in allowing a mixture of bad men
to continue on the face of the earth until
the end of time. This inquiry shall make
the subject of the present discourse, toge-
ther with such reflections as naturally arise
from surveying the state of human affairs.
But, before entering directly on such
inquiry, it may be proper to take notice,
that, in our estimation of who are the good,
who are the bad, we are often in hazard
ofcommitting mistakes. The real charac-
ters of men are known only to God. They
frequently depend on the secret and un-
seen parts of life. As in judging of them-
selves men are always partial, so in judg-
ing
62 On the jyiixtures of Had Men
SERM. ing" of others they often err, through the
,_^ imperfect information which they have
gathered, or the rash prejudices which
they have formed. They are too apt to li-
mit the character of virtue to those who
agree with them in sentiment and belief;
and to exaggerate the failings of those
against whom they have conceived dislike,
into great and unpardonable crimes. Were
it left to the indiscreet zeal of some to ex-
tirpate from the earth all those whom they
consider as bad men, there is ground to ap-
prehend that, instead of tares, the wheat
w^ould often be rooted out. At the saoje
time we readily admit the fact, as too ma-
nifest to be denied, that a multitude of gross
and notorious sinners are now mixed with
the followers of God and virtue. Let us
proceed then to consider how far this is
consistent with the justice and wisdom of
the Governor of the world.
It is a principle, in which all serious a»d
reflecting persons have agreed, and whjch
by many arguments is confirmed, that our
present state on earth is designed to be a
state of discipline and improvement, in or-
der to fit human nature for a higher and
better
with the Good in Society. 63
better state which it is to attain hereafter, serm.
Now this principle being once admitted,
we say, tliat the mixture of virtue and vice
wliich here prevails, is calculated to answer
this purpose better than a mere unmixed
and perfect state of society would have
done.
For, in the first place, the crimes of the
wicked give occasion to the exercise of
many excellent dispositions of heart among
the righteous. They bring forth all the suf-
fering virtues, which otherwise would have
had no field ; and by the exercise of which
the human character is tried, and acquires
some of its chief honours. Were there no
bad men in the world to vex and distress
the good, the good might appear in the
light of harmless innocence ; but could
have no opportunity of displaying fidelity,
magnanimity, patience, and fortitude. One
half of virtue, and not the least important
half, would be lost to the world. In our
present imperfect state, any virtue, which
is never exercised, is in hazard of becoming
extinct in the human breast. If goodness
constantly proceeded in a smooth and flow-
ery
64 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. ery path ; if, meeting with no adversary to
oppose it, it weie surrounded on every
hand with acclamation and praise, is there
no ground to dread that it might be cor-
rupted by van'ty, or might sink into indo-
lence? This dangerous calm must there-
fore be interrupted. The waters must be
troubled, lest they should stagnate and
putrify. When you behold wicked men
multiplying in number, and increasing in
power, imagine not that Providence par-
ticularly favours them. No ; they are suf-
fered for a time to prosper, that they may
fulfil the high designs of Heaven. They
are employed as instruments in the hand
of God for the improvement of his servants.
They are the rods with which he chastens
the virtuous, in order to rouse them from a
dangerous slumber ; to form them for the
day of adversity, and to teach them how to
suifer honourably.
In the next place, the mixture of the bad
among the good serves not only to give ex-
ercise to the passive graces, but also to im-
prove the active powers and virtues of man.
It inures the righteous to vigilance and ex-^
ertron.
with the Good in Society. 65
crtioii. It obliges them to stand forth, and serm.
act their part with firmness and constancy
in evil times. It gives occasion for their
virtues to shine with conspicuous histre ;
and makes them appear as the lights of the
'M;or/c?amidst surrounding darkness. Were
it not for the dangers that arise from abound-
ing iniquity, tliere would be no opportunity
for courage to act, for wisdom to admonish,
for caution to watch, nor for faith to exert
itself in overcoming the world- It is that
mixture of dispositions which now takes
place, that renders the theatre on which
we act so busy stirring, and so much fitted
for giving employment to every part of
man^s intelligent and moral nature. It
aiTords a complete field for the genuine dis-
play of characters ; and gives every man
an opportunity to come forth and show
what he is. Were the tenor of human con-
duct altogether regular and uniform, in-
terrupted by no follies and vices, no gross
dispositions and irregular passions, many
of our active powers would find no exercise.
Perhaps even our life would languish, and
become too still and insipid. Man is not
yet ripe for a paradise of innocence, and
VOL. IV F for
66 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. for the enjoyment of a perfect and faultless
23l. society. As in the natural world he is not
made for perpetual spring and cloudless
skies, but by the wintery storm must be
called to exert his abilities for procuring
shelter and defence ; so, in the moral world,
the intermixture of bad men renders many
an exertion necessary, which in a more per-
fect state of the world would find no place,
but which m the present state of trial is
proper and useful. The existence of vice
in the world assuredly testifies our present
corruption: and, according to the degree
of its prevalence, is always, more or less,
the source of misery. It is a standing proof
of the fall and degeneracy of man. But,
as long as that fallen state continues, the
wisdom of Providence evidently appears in
making the errors and frailties of the wick-
ed subservient to the improvement of the
just. Tares are for that reason sutFered at
present t» grow up among- the wheat.
These observations on the wisdom of
Providence, in this dispensation, will be
farther illustrated, by considering the use-
ful instructions which we receive, or which
at least every wise man may receive, from
the
uith the Good in Society. 67
the follies and vices of those among whom serm.
we are obliged to live. ^^'
First, They furnish instruction con-
cerning the snares and dangers against
vvhich we ought to be most on our guard.
They put it thereby in our power to profit
by the errors and misconduct of others.
By observing, from what small beginnings
the greatest crimes have arisen; observing
how bad company has seduced this man
from his original principles and habits ;
how a careless indulgence of pleasure has
blinded and intoxicated that man ; how
the neglect of divine institutions has, in
another, gradually paved the way for open
profligacy ; much salutary instruction is
conveyed to the virtuous. Tracing the
dangerous and slippery paths by which so
many have been insensibly betrayed into
ruin, their views of human nature are en-
larged ; the sense of their own imbecility
is strongly impressed upon them ; accom-
panied with the conviction of the necessity
of a constant dependence on the grace and
assistance of Heaven. All the crimes,
which they behold disturbing society a-
F 2 round
68 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. round them, serve as signals hung out to
J^ them, beacons planted in their view, to
prevent their making shipwreck among
those rocks on which others have split. It
has been justly said, that not only from the
advices of his friends, but from the re-
proaches of his enemies, a wise man may
draw instruction. In the same manner, it
is not only by the examples of good men,
but likewise by those of the wicked, that
an attentive mind may be confirmed in
virtue.
Next, These examples of bad men, while
they admonish the virtuous of the dangers
against which they are to guard, are far-
ther profitable by the views which they
exhibit of the evil and the deformity of
sin. Its odious nature never appears in so
strong a light as when displayed in the
crimes of the wicked. It is true that, when
vice is carried only to a certain degree, and
disguised by plausible colours, it may pass
unreproved, and even for a while seem po-
pular in the world. But it is no less true
that, when it becomes open and flagrant,
and is deprived of the shadow of virtue, it
never
with the Good in Society. 69
never fails to incur general reproach, and serm.
to become the object either of contempt or ^^
of iiatred. How often, for instance, have
the greatest abilities, which once drew es-
teem and admiration, sunk, in a short time,
into the most humiliating degradation,
merely through the ascendant which cor-
rupted inclinations and low habits had ac-
quired over their possessor ? How often have
the rising honours of the young been blast-
ed, by their forsaking the path of honour,
on which they had once entered for the
blind and crooked tracts of depravity and
folly ? Such spectacles of the infamy of
vice, such memorials of the disgrace attend-
ing it, are permitted by Providence for ge-
neral instruction: and assuredly are edify-
ing to the world. It was necessary, for
moral improvement, that the beauty and
excellence of virtue, and the deformity of
vice, should be strongly impressed on every
intelligent mind. This could never be
done with so great advantage as by the
striking contrasts of both, which are pro-
ouced by the living examples of evil men
intermixed with the good. It is in this
mirror that we clearly contemplate how
F 3 much
70 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. much the righteous is more excellent than
^^^> his neighbour.
The same purpose of important instruc-
tion is farther promoted, by the instances
of misery which the state of wicked men
on earth affords. I admit, that the worldly
success, which sometimes attend them,
may blind and seduce the unwary ; but a
little more reflection enables men to distin-
guish between apparent success and real
happiness. The condition of worthless
men, whatever splendor riches may throw
around them, is easily discerned to be a
restless and miserable one, and the misery
which they suffer, to be derived from their
vices. In that great corrupted crowd
wliicii surrounds to what incessant bustle
and stir, what agitation and tumult take
place ? What envy and jealousy of one
another? How much bitterness of resent-
ment do we behold among them ; mutually
deceiving and deceived ; supplanting and
supplanted; ever pursuing but never satis-
fied? These are not matters of rare obser-
vation, or which require nice scrutiny to
discover tliem. We need only open our
eyes to behold the wicked tormented by
their
with the Good in Society. 71
their passions, and far removed from tliatsERM.
sanctuary of calmness and tranquillity ^^^
wliicli is the abode of real happiness. Nay,
when ue apj)eal to bad men themselves,
after tliey have run the whole round of vi-
cious i>leasures, we v^ill often find them
obliged to confess, that the wretched result
of their pursuits has been vanity and veX'
ation of spirit, and that the happiest days
they have enjoyed were in the times of in-
nocence, before (riminal desires and guilty
passions had taken possession of their
breasts. Such practical demonstrations
as these of the infelicity of sin, are yielded
by the examples of evil doers whom we
see around us. By attending to their si-
tuation, the misery, as well as infamy, of
guilt is realised, and rendered sensible to
our apprehension.
«
Thus, upon a fair inquiry, you behold
how the ways of God may, in this remark-
able case, be justified to man. You behold
what important ends are advanced, by
permitting the tares 2it [)resent to grow to-
gether with the wheat. The intermixture
of evil men, in human society, serves to ex-
ercise
72 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SF.RM. ercise the suffering graces and virtues of
J^ the good ; by the diversity of characters
among those with whom they have inter-
course, it serves to bring forth and improve
their active powers and virtues, and to en-
large the circle of useful occupations; it
serves to instruct them in the temptations
against which they are to guard, to reveal
to them all the deformity of vice, and to
make its miseries pass conspicuously be-
fore their eyes. When we consider them
as actors on the theatre of the world, they
are thereby improved in the part they have
to perform. When we consider them as
spectators of what is passing on that thea-
tre, their minds are thereby instructed ;
their views rectified and enlarged by the
objects that are set before them.
From these important truths, several re-
flections, no less important, arise.
We are naturally taught, in the first
place, never to be hasty in finding fault
with any of the arrangements of Provi-
dence. The present permission of moral
evil on the earth, seemed, on the first view,
to furnish a strong objection against either
the
icith the Good in Society. 73
the wisdom or the goodness of the Author serm.
of nature. After beholding the useful
])uri)oses which are answered by that per-
mission, liow cautious should we be in ad-
vancing any of our rash speculations against
his government or conduct! To our con-
fined and humble station, it belongs not
to censure, but to submit, trust, and adore ;
satisfied, that the farther we inquire, the
rectitude of his ways will appear the more;
tliankful for the discoveries of them which
have been imparted to us ; and persuaded
that, when our discoveries fail, it is not
because there is no more wisdom or good-
ness to be seen, but because our present
condition allows us not to see more.
In the second place. Let us be taught
with what eye we are to look upon those
bad men whom we find around us in the
world. Not surely with an eye of envy.
Whatever prosperity they may seem to
enjoy, they are still no more than tareSy
the weeds of the field ; contemptible in
the sight of God, tolerated by his provi-
dence for awhile on account of the righte-
ous, to whose improvement they are ren-
dered
74 On the Mixture of Bud Men
8ERM dered subservient. The parable informs
T^ us that, in the end, they are to be gather-
ed together and burnt. In this life only
they have their good things. But their
prosperity is transitory. They are brought
into desolation in a moment, and utterly
consumed with terrors. As a dream when,
one awaketh ; so, O God, when thou awak-
est, thoushalt despise their image. When
we consider their unhappy state, itbeco ;!es
us to behold them with the eye of pity.
Let us remember, that, in the midst of their
errors, they are by nature still our breth-
ren. Let us not behave to them in the
spirit of bitterness. Insult not their follies.
Pride not yourselves on superior virtue.
Remember that, as bad men are mixed
with the good ; so, in the best men, vices
are mixed with virtues. Your own cha-
racter, good as you may esteem it, is not
free from every evil taint; and in the cha-
racters of those whom you reprobate as
vicious, there are always some good quali-
ties mixed with the bad ones. Study, as
far as you can, to reclaim and amend them ;
and if, in any degree, you have been pro-
fited by their failings, endeavour, in return,
with the Good in Society. 7«3
to profit them by t^ood counsel and advice ; sj iii\i.
by advice not administered with otticious ^J^
zeal, or self-conceited superiority, but with
tlie tenderness of compassion and real
friendship.
In the third place, In whatever propor-
tion the admixture of vice may seem to
take ])lace in the world, let us never des-
pair of the prevalence of virtue on the
whole. Let us not exaggerate, beyond
measure, thequantity of vice which isfound
in the mixture. It is proi)er to observe,
hat in the parable now before us, after the
owner of the field had soivn his good seedy
no reason is given us to think, that the
good seed was entirely choaked up by tares.
On the contrary, we are told, that the blade
sprung up, and brought forth fruit ; and,
thought the tares also arose, yet, in the
end, there was a harvest^ when the wheat
was reaped and gathered into the barn. In
the most corrupted times, God never leaves
himself without many witnesses on earth.
He is always attentive to the cause of good-
ness; and frequently supports and advan^
ces it by means which we are unable
to
76 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. to trace. He nourishes much piety and
lY^- virtue in hearts that are unknown to us ;
and beholds repentance ready to spring
up among many whom we consider as re-
probates. I know that it has always been
common for persons to represent the age in
which they live as the worst that ever ap-
l>eared ; and religion and virtue as just on
the point of vanishing from among men.
This is the language sometimes of the seri-
ous ; often of the hypocritical, or of the
narrow-minded. But true religion gives
no sanction to such severe censures, or
such gloomy views. Though the tares
must be at all times springing up, there is
no reason for believing that they shall ever
overspread the whole field. The nature
of the weeds that spring up may vary, ac-
cording to the nature of the soil. Different
modes of iniquity may distinguish different
ages of the world ; while the sum of cor-
ruption is nearly the same. Let not our
judgments of men, and of the times in
which we live, be hasty and presumptuous.
Let us trust in the grace of God ; and hope
the best of mankind.
In
xnlth the Good in Society 77
In the fourth and last place, Let us keep serm.
our eyes ever fixed on that important pe-
riod, wliich is alluded to in the text, as the
conclusion of all Let both grow together
until the harvest. The great spiritual year
is to be closed by a harvest, when the
householder is to gather the wheat into his
barn; when, at the end of the world, the
final distinction of men and characters is
to take place. The confused mixture of
good and evil, which now prevails, is only
a temporary dispensation of Providence,
accommodated to inuii's fallen and imper-
fect state. Let it not tempt us, for a mo-
ment, to distrust the reality of the divine
government; or to entertain the remotest
suspicion that moral good and evil are to
be on the same terms for ever. The frailties
of our nature fitted us for no more at pre-
sent than the enjoyment of a very mixed
and imperfect society. But when our na-
ture, purified and refined, shall become
ripe for higher advancement, then shall
the spirits of the just, disengaged from any
poluted mixture, undisturbed by sin or by
sinners^ be united in one divine assembly,
and
78 On the Mixtures of Bad Men
SERM. and rejoice for ever in the presence of him
^^^ who made them. Looking forward to this
glorious issue with stedfast faith, let no
cross appearances ever discomfit our hopes,
or lead us to suspect that we have been
serving God in vain. If we continueyi/iM-
ful to the death, we may rest assured, that
in due time we shall receive the crown oj
life.
f 79 J
SERMON V.
On the Relirf whicli the Gospel Af-
fords to tlie Distressed.
[Preached at the Celebration of the Sacrament of the
Lord's Supper.]
Matth. xi. 28.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
THE life of man on earth is doomed sRRM.
to be clouded with various evils. ,_J„
Throughout all ranks the afflicted form a
considerable proportion of the human race:
and even they who have a title to be called
prosperous, are always, in some periods of
their life, obliged to drink from the cup of
bitterness. The Christian religion is parti-
cularly entitled to our regard, by accommo-
dating
^*w
80 On the Relief' whieh the
SERM dating" itself, with i^reat tenderness, to this
^' distressed condition of mankind. It is not
to be considered as merely an anthoritalive
system of precepts. Important precej)ts it
indeed delivers for the wise and proper re-
gulations of life. But the same voice wliich
enjoins our duty, utters the words of con-
solation. The gospel deserves to be held as
a dispensation of relief to mankind under
both the temporal and spiritual distresses of
their state.
This amiable and compassionate spirit
of our religion conspicuously appears in
the character of its great Author. It slione
in all its actions while he lived on earth.
It breathed in all his discourses ; and, in
the words of the text, is expressed with
much energy. In the preceding* verse, he
had given a high account of his own person
and dignity. All things are delivered un-
to me of my Father ; and no man knoweth
the Son hut the Father ; neither knoweth
any man the Father, save the Son, and he
to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.
But lest any of his hearers should be dis-
couraged by this mysterious representation
of his greatness, he instantly tempers it
with
Gospel Affords to the Distressed. 81
with the most gracious benignity ; declar- serm.
ing, in the text, the mercifnl intention of '
his mission to the world. Come unto me all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and 1
will give you rest.
The first thing* which claims our atten-
tion in these woixls is, what we are to un-
derstand by coming unto Christ. This is
a phrase which has often given occasion to
controversy. By theological writers it has
been involved in much needless mystery,
while the meaning is in itself plain and
easy. The very metaphor that is here
used serves to explain it. In the ancient
world, disciples flocked round their differ-
ent teachers, and attended them wherever
they went ; in order both to testify their
attachment, and to imbibe more fully the
doctrine of their masters. Coming unto
Christ, therefore, is the same with resorting
to him as our declared Master; acknow-
ledging ourselves his disciples, believers
in his doctrine, and followers of his pre-
cepts. As Christ is njade known to us
under the character both of a Teacher and
a Saviour, our coming to him imports not
VOL. IV. G only
82 On the Relief which the
SERM. only submission to his instructions, but
confidence also in his power to save. It
imports that, forsaking- the corruptions of
sin and the world, we follow that course
of virtue and obedience which he points
out to us ; relying on his mediation for
pardon of our offence's, and acceptance
with heaven. This is what is implied in
the scripture tenii Faith ; which includes
both the assent of the understanding to the
truth of the Christian religion, and the con-
currence of the will in receiving it.
What next occurs in the text to attract
our notice is, the description of those to
whom the invitation is addressed. All
those who labom^ and are heavy laden, that
is, who, in one way or other, feel them-
selves grieved and distressed, are here in-
vited to come to Christ. — Now, from two
sources chiefly our distresses arise, from
moral or from natural causes.
First, They may arise from inward mo-
ral causes; from certain feelings and re-
flections of the mind, which occasion
uneasiness and pain. A course of sin and
vice
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 83
vice always prove ruinous and destructive si rm.
in the issue. But its tendency to ruin
is often not perceived, while that ten-
dency is advancing. For as sin is the reign
of passion and pleasure, it forms men to a
thoughtless inconsiderate state. Circum-
stances, however, may occur, and frequent-
ly, in the course of life, do occur, which
disclose to a vicious man the ruin which he
is bringing on himself, as an offender a-
gainst the God who made him. When
some occasional confinement to solitude,
or some turn of adverse fortune, directs his
attention immediately upon his own cha-
racter ; or ^\hen, drawing towards the
close of life, his passions subside, his plea-
sures withdraw, and a future state comes
forward to his view ; in such situations it
often happens, that the past follies and
crimes of such a man appear to him in a
light most odious and shocking ; and not
odious only, but terrifying to his heart.
He considers that he is undoubtedly placed
under the government of a just God, who
did not send him into this world for nought;
that he has neglected the part assigned to
him ; has contemned the laws of Heaven ;
G 2 has
84 On the Relief which the
SERM. Iia*^ degraded his own nature ; and instead
^J^ of being useful, having- been hurliul and
pernioious to those among" whom he lived,
is about to leave a detestable meinory be-
hind him. — What account shall he give of
himself to his Maker? Self condemned,
polluted by so many crimes, how can he
expect to tind mercy in his sight ? — Hence,
an overwhelmed and dejected mind, hence,
dismal forebodings of punishment; hence,
that wounded spirit; which, when it is
deeply pierced, becomes tiiC sorest of all
human evils, and has sometimes rendered
existence a burden which could not be
endured.
Such distresses as these, arising from
moral internal causes, may be made light
of by the giddy and the vain ; and repre-
sented as confined to a few persons only of
distempered imagination. But to those,
whose professions give them occasion to
see men under various circumstances of
affliction, they are known to be far from
being unfrequent in the world ; and, on
many more occasions than is commonly
imagined, to throw over the human mind
the blackest gloom of which it is suscepti-
ble.
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 85
ble. Religious feelings, be assured, have skiim.
a deep root in the nature of man. They ^.^;^
form a part of the human constitution.
They are interwoven with many of those
fears and hopes which actuate us in the
changing situations of fortune. During
the gjiy and active periods of life, they
may be smothered ; but, with most men,
they are smothered rather than totally
obliterated: And if any crisis of our con-
dition shall awaken, and bring- them forth,
in their full force, upon a conscious guilty
heart, woe to the man, who, in some dis-
consolate season, is doomed to sutfer their
extreme veng"eance I
But, while under such distresses of the
mind, not afew may be sairl to labour and
to be heavy laden, greater still is the mul-
titude of those w ho, from natural external
causes, trom the calamities and evils of
life, undergo much suffering and misery.
The lite of man is not indeed wholly com-
posed of misery. It admits of many pleas-
ing scenes. On the whole, there is reason
to believe, that it affords more joy than
grief. At the same time, the unl'ortunate,
as i before observed, form always a nu-
G 3 merous
86 On the Relief which the
SERM merous class of mankind ; and it may be
^J^ said with truth, that sore travail is ordain-
ed for the sons of men. Though the bur-
den is not equally laid on all ; some there
always are, on whom it falls with oppres-
sive weight. Unexpected disappointments
have crushed their hopes, and blasted the
plans which they had formed for comfort
in the world. The world had, perhaps,
smiled upon them once, only to give them a
sharper feeling of its miseries at the last.
Struggling with poverty, unable to sup-
port their families, whom they see lan-
guishing around them, they, at the same
time, are obliged, by their situation in so-
ciety, to conceal their necessities ; and,
under the forced appearance of cheerful-
ness, to hide from the world a broken heart.
They are stung perhaps, by the unkind-
ness of friends ; cast off by those in whom
they had trusted ; or torn by untimely
death from real friends, in connection with
" whom they might have flourished and been
happy ; at the same time, borne down, it
may be, with the infirmities of a sickly
body, and left to drag a painful life with-
out assistance or relief. How many sad
scenes
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 87
scenes of this nature, on which it were serm.
painful to insist, does the world atl'ord ? ^'^
When we turn to those who are account-
ed prosperous men, we shall always find
many sorrows mingled with their pleasures,
many hours of care and vexation, wherein
they a(;knowledg*^ themselves classed with
those who labour and are heavy laden. In
entering into some gay festive assembly,
we behold ati'ected cheerfulness displayed
on every countenance ; and mig^ht fancy
that we had arrived at the temple of un-
mixed pleasure and gladness of heart.
Yet even there, could we look into the bo-
soms of these apparently happy persons,
how often would we find them inwardly
preyed upon by some tormenting suspi-
cions, some anxious fears, some secret
griefs, which either th»^v dare not disclose
to the world, or from which, if disclosed,
they can look for no relief? In short,
amidst the great company of pilgrims, who
are journeying through life, many there
are whose journey lies through a valley of
tears ; and many to whom that valley is
only cheered by transient glimpses of
joy.
G 4 To
88 On the Relief which the
SERM To these classes of mankind is adclress-
J^ ed the invitation of the text. To them it
is in a particular manner addressed ; over-
looking the giddy and dissipated muUi-
tude. Come unto me all ye that labour and
are heavy laden. ?<iot as it our 8avioar
were always ready to accei>t that sort of
piety which is merely tiie consequence of
distress; or made all those welcome, who
are driven by nothing but fear or danger to
have recourse to liim. His words are to
be undei-stood as intinsating, that the l^eart
which is humbled and softened by ati^ic-
tion, is the ol^ject of his compassionate re-
gard ; that he will not reject us merely
because we have been cast off by the world ;
but that, if with proper dispositions and
sentiments we apply to him in the evil day,
we shall be sure of meeting with a graci-
ous reception. It now remains to show,
what that reception is which we may look
for; what that rest is which Christ hath
promised to confer on those who come to
him ; whether their distresses arise from
moral or from natural causes. Come unto
mti and I will give you rest.
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 89
I. Christ affords rest to the disturbed serm.
mind that labours under apprehensions ^.^_
and fears of guilt. Let tliose who suffer
distress of this nature conte to Christ, that
is, with contrition and repentance, have
recourse to him as our Saviour, and they
shall regain quietness and peace. Foolish
and guilty they have been, and justly lie
under dread of punishment ; but the pe-
nitent sorrow which they now feel implies
their disposition to be changed. It implies,
as far as it is genuine, that, sensible of their
folly, they now desire to become good and
wise ; and are determined for the future to
liold a virtuous course, could they only
hope to obtain pardon for the past. Iil
this situation of mind, let them not be cast
down and despair. Christ has brought
with him from heaven the olive branch.
He carries in his hand the signal of for-
giveness. The declaration which he pub-
lishes is. Let the wicked forsake his way,
and the unrighteous man his thoughts ;
and let him return to the Lord, and he will
have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for
he will abundantly pardon. Insufficient
though our own repentance be to procure
pardon
90 Oil tht He Clef which the
SERM. pardon from Heaven, we are informed, that
an all sufficient atonement has been made
by Christ. Neither the number nor the
atrocity of offences excludes from forgive-
ness, the penitent who returns to his duty.
To all who come under this description,
the offer of mercy extends, without excep-
tion. He that spared not his own So?i, but
delivered him up for us all, how shall
he not with him also freely give us all
things ?
This discovery of the divine government,
afforded by the Gospel, is perfectly calcu-
lated to scatter the gloom which had over-
cast the desponding heart. The atmos-
pli^re clears up on every side, and is illu-
minated by cheering ray sof celestial mercy.
Not only is hope given to the penitent, but
it is rendered sinful not to indulge that
hope. We are not only allowed and en-
couraged, but we are commanded to trust
in the divine cleuiency. We are com-
manded to believe, that none uho come
unto Christ he will in any wise cast out-
As 1 live, saith the Lord God, I have no
pleasure in the death of the wicked, but
that the wicked turn from his way and
live;
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 91
live ; turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways, skrm.
for why will ye die, O house of Israel '^ ^^
Such is the relief which the religion of
Christ brings to them who labour and are
heavy laden under the impressions of guilt
and divine displeasure ; a relief which
nothing can render ineffectual to the heart,
except the most gloomy superstition, found-
ed on gross misconceptions of the nature
and attributes of God. Let us now.
II. Consider what rest the religion of
Christ gives to them whose distresses arises
not froiu inward and moral, but froo na-
tural and external causes ; from adverse
fortune, or any of those numerous calami-
ties to which we are at present exposed.
To such persons, it may seem more difficult
to promise any effectual relief. In the
fonner case, the distress lay entirely in the
mind. As soon as its views are rectified,
ai>d its apprehensions quieted, the evil is
removed, and the cure effected. Here,
the distress arises from without ; and the
religion of Christ affects not the course of
external events. But though it removes
not all the evils of life ; though it promises
no
92 On the Relief which the
SERM no continuance of undisturbed prosperity
^' (which indeed it were not salutary lor man
always to enjoy) ; yet, if it mitigates the
evils which necessarily belong to our state,
and supports us under them, it may justly
be said to give rest to them it ho labour and
are heavy laden. Wheu much that is ma-
terial and important is etf'ected, we have
no cause to complain, thouoh al! that we
desire be not accomplished. — In this part
of the discourse, I am to be considered as
addressing n yself, not merely to such as
are at present sufiVring any severe calami-
ty ; I now sj)eak to many, \> ho, in the
midst of liealth and affluence, e^isjoy the
various comfoits of life, iiut I must de-
sire such ])ersons to look forward to what
may one day be their state. Let them re-
flect how important it is to prepare them-
selves for the future unknown vicissitudes
of the world. For, if a man live many
years, and rejoice in them all , yet, let him
remember the days of darkness, for they
shall be many. Now, either in the prospect
of future distress, or under present suffer-
ing, I say, that the religion of Christ gives
rest to the heart, by the fortitude which it
inspires.
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 93
inspires, and by the consolations which it serm.
affords. v-v-'
First, It inspires fortitude. It disco-
vers a supreme administration, so friendly
to the interests of goodness, as never to
allow the followers of Christ to dread, that,
in any situation of fortune, they shall be
neglected by Heaven. From the abstract
consideration of the divine perfections,
men had always souiC ground to believe,
that the general order of the universe was
consulted by its great ruler. But how far
the interest of individuals might be oblig-
ed to yield, or, in many cases, might be
sacrificed, to this general order, they were
left altogether in the dark. Here the gos-
pel of Christ comes to our aid, by the ex-
plicit assurance which it gives that, in the
great system of Providence, the welfare of
every single good man is particularly in-
cluded. A II things, we are expressly told,
are made to work together, not merely for
the order and perfection of the whole, but
also, for good to them who love God. The
life of every person who comes under this
description, forms a system complete with-
in
94 €}n the Relief which the
SERM in itself; where every event that happens
^^^ to him possesses its destined place, and
forms a link in that great chain of causes,
which was appointed, from the beginning
of things, for carrying on his improvement
and felicity. Such an arrangement of the
affairs of the world, may appear astonish-
ing to our narrow capacities; yet surely-
implies no effort beyond the reach of infinite
power, joined with infinite wisdom and
goodness.
Hence arises a degree of fortitude and
constancy to good men, which can upon
no other grounds be attained. Faith, in
these principles of the gospel, erects for
them a fortress impregnable to the assaults
of the world, into which they can at all
times retreat. Sitting under the shelter of
divine protection, they calmly hear the
storm, when it blows with its utmost vio-
lence around them. The floods have lifted
vp their voice ; they have lifted up all
their waves. But the Lord on high is
mightier than the noise of many waters.;
pea, than the mighty waves of the sea. Of
the man who possesses such principles, it
is justly said, His heart is established \ he
shall
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 95
shall not be afraid of evil tidings; his sv.rm.
heart is fixed trusting in the Lord. Tran- ,^^
quillity, order, and iiiagnaniMiity, dwell
\vith liiip; wliile all is conlusiori and tre-
pedition among* those who have nothing to
look to but the apparent disorders of the
world.
The doctrine of Christ not only arms ns,
in this manner witli the fortitude against
the apfiroach of evil ; but, supposing evils
to fall upon us with their heaviest pressure,
it lightens the load by many consolations
to which others are strangers. While bad
men trace, in the calamities with which
they are visited, the hand of an offended
Sovereign, Christians are taught to view
them as the well -intended chastisements of
a merciful Father. They hear, amidst
them, that still voice which a good consci-
ence brings to their ear: Fear not, for I
am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I aw
thy God. They apply to themselves the
comfortable promises with which the Gos-
pel abounds. They discover in these the
bappy issue decreed to their troubles, and
wait with patience till Providence shall
have accomplished its great and good de-
signs.
96 On the Relief winch the
SERM. signs. In the meantime, devotion opens
/^' to them its blessed and holy sanctuary :
that sanctuary in which the wounded
heart is healed, and the weary mind is at
rest ; where the cares of the world are for-
gotten, where its tumults are hushed,
and its miseries disappear ; where greater
objects open to our view than what the
world presents ; where a more serene sky
shines, and a sweeter and calmer light
beams on the afflicted heart. In those
moments of devotion, a pious man, pouring
out his wants and sorrows to an almighty
Supporter, feels that he is not left solitary
and forsaken in a vale of woe. God is with
him, Christ and the Holy Ghost are with
him ; and though he should be bereaved
of every earthly friend, he can look up
in heaven to a Friend who will never
die.
To these presentconsolations, the religion
of Christ adds the joyful prospect of that
future state, where eternal rest remaineth
for the people of God. This life they are
taught to consider as only the house of their
pilgrimage ; the temporary mansion of
painful, though necessary discipline. But
let
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 97
let them endure for a little, and the pil^ri- serm.
inag^e shall <^nd, the discipline shall be fi- ^^^
nished ; and all the virtuous be assembled
in those blissful regions which are prepared
for tiieir reward. Such a prospect cheers
the darkest hours of life ; and affords a
remedy to every trouble. TAe sufferings
of this present time are not to he compared
with the glory which shall be revealed. —
They appear, in this comparitive view, as no
more than a distressing dream of the night,
from which one awakes into health, and
light, and joy. Peealiar is this high con-
solation to the religion of Christ. It is
what all nations had eagerly wished for;
what all philosophy had anxiously sought
to discover ; but what no research, no phi-
losophy, were able to ascertain to mankind,
till Christ brought the assurance of life and
immortality from heaven ; and conferred
on his disciples this noble and inestimable
gift.
Thus, on the whole, the Christain doc-
trine is found to be the great medicine of
life. It is the balm of human sorrows and
cares. In our present state, where so many
VOL. IV. H are
98 On the Relief which the
si:rm are suffering actual distress, of one kind or
, ^' , other, and wliere all have reason to dread
the approach of distress, it is religion only
that can alleviate the burdens ot'life, and
smooth onr passage tlsrough this evil world
het this view of religion persuade us to im-
prove the sacred ordinance of our Lord's
supi>er for corning unto Christ in the way
before explained : that is, joining ourselves
to him as his disciples ; liis disciples, not
in words and professions only, but in heart
and in truth, taking upon. us his yoke, as is
added in the words immediately following
the text ; and learning of him ivho is meek
and lowly in heart. Let those who labour
under the sense of remembered follies and
crimes, come unto Christ with penitent dis-
positions, and they shall obtain pardon.
Let those who labour under the suffering
of present, or the apprehension of future
sorrows, come unto Christ, and they shall
receive consolation. All who are in any
sense heavy laden,^ coming unto him, shall
lind rest to their souls.
Before concluding this discourse, there
is another set of men not yet mentioned,
to whom I must also address the exhorta-
tion
Gospel affords to the Distressed. 99
tion in the text ; those I mean who, labour- sfrm.
in^ under none of the distressful burdens J^^
of life, are surfeited of its pleasure ; who
labour under the burden only of languid
ease, and the load of insipid prosperity.
You drag, my friends, but a miserable ex-
istence. Oppressed by no sorrow, you
feel vacuity and dissatisfaction within ;
you are often weary of life; and, in your
solitary hours, are disposed to confess that
all you have experienced is vanity. Where-
fore should you any longer spend your
money for that which is not bread, and
your labour for that ic hick sat isfieth not?
Come to the waters which are now offered
to you, and drink. Hear, and your souls
shall live. Retreat from the corrupting
vanities of the world to Christ, to religion,
and to virtue. New sources of enjoyment
shall then be opened to you. A world yet
nntried shall display itself to your view.
You shall be formed to a relish for the quiet
and innocent pleasures of piety and devo-
tion ; of friendship and good affections; of
useful knowledge, and virtuous activity ;
of calm society, and seasonable retirement;
pleasures of which at present you have no
H 2 conception ;
^.^w
100 On the Relief, §c.
SERM conception ; but which, upon trial, you
^^ shall lind superior to the trifling or turbu-
lent amusements, in which you have hither-
to passed your days. — The true satisl'action
of the human mind is only to be found in
religion and goodness; in a purified heart
and a virtuous life- All other plans of
happiness are fallacious, and pregnant
with disappointment. It is only by ac-
quaint Ing curselve with God, that we can
find peace : And those who are weary and
heavy ladennow, shall be weary and heavy
laden to the end, unless they come to him
who only can give them rest.
[ 101 J
SERMON VI.
On Luxury and Licentiousness.
Isaiah, v, {}.
The harp and the viol, the tablet and pipe,
and wine, are in their feasts ; but they
regard rot the work of the Lord, neither
consider the operation of his hands.
IT appears from many passages in the sf.rm.
writings of this prophet, that in his ^^*
days great corruption of manners had be-
gun to take place among the people of Is-
rael. Originally a sober and a religious
nation, accustomed to a simple and pasto-
ral life, after they had enlarged their ter-
ritories by conquest, and acquired wealth
be commerce, they gradually contracted
habits of luxury ; and luxury soon intro-
duced its usual train ot'attending evils. In
the history of all nations, the same circu-
H 3 lation
102 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
SERM. lation of manners has been found ; and the
_ ' age in which we live resembles, in this re-
spect, the ages which have gone before it.
Forms of iniquity may vary ; bat the cor-
rupt propensities of men remain at all times
much the same ; and revolutions from pri-
mitive simplicity to the refinements of cri-
minal luxury have been often exhibited
on the stage of the world. The reproof
directed in the text to the Jews of that
ancient age, will be found equally appli-
cable to the manners of many in modern
times. In discoursing from it, I shall first
consider the character of those who are
described in the text, and show the guilt
that is involved in it. I shall next con-
sider the duties which persons of that cha
racter are supposed to have neglected ;
to regard the work of the Lord, and to
consider the operation of his hand.
I. When we take into view the charac-
ter pointed at in the text, it is evident that
what the prophet means to reprove is, the
spirit of inconsiderate dissipation, of intem-
perate indulgence, and irreligious luxury.
It js not the feast and the wine, the harp
On Luxury and Licentiousness. U)*]
and the viol, which he means to contlemi). :i u,m.
Music and wine are, in tlieniseives, things ^ J^
of innocent nature : Nay, when tenipeiate-
ly enjoved, tliey may be employed for use-
ful purposes ; for atfording relaxation from
the oppressive cares of life, and for promot-
ing friendly intercourse among men. The
opulent are not prohibited from enjoying
the good things of this world, which Provi-
dence has bestowed upon them. Religion
neither abolishes the distinction of ranks
(as the vain philosophy of some would
teach us to do), nor interferes with a modest
and decent indulgence of pleasure. It is
the criminal abuse of pleasure which is
here censured ; that thoughtless and iu-
temperate enjoyment of it, which wholly
absorbs the time and attention of men ;
which obliterates every serious thought of
the proper businf^ss of life ; and eflaces the
sense of religion and of God.
It may be proper to remark, that it is
not open and direct impiety, which is laid
to the charge of the persons here charac-
terised. It is not said, that in iheir leasts
they scoffed at religion, or blasphemed tl»e
name of God. To this summit of wicked-
H 4 ness
104 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
SERM. ness these persons had not yet arrived ;
vi
y^^ perhaps the age in which they lived gave
not its countenance to this wantonness of
impiety. It is merely a negative crime of
which they are accused, that they regard-
ed not the works of the Lord, neither con-
sidered the operation of his hands. But
this absence of all religious impressions is
here pointed out, as sufficient to stigmatise
their characters with guilt. As soon as
the sense of a Supreme Being is lost, the
great check is taken oif, which keeps un-
der restraint the passions of men. Mean
desires, and low pleasures, take place of
the greater and nobler sentiments which
reason and religion inspire. Amidst the
tumultof /Ae wine and the feast, all proper
views of human life are forgotten. The
duties which, as men, they have to perform,
the part they have to act in the world, and
and the distresses to which they are expos-
ing themselves, are banished from their
thoughts. To-morrow shall be as this day,
and more abundantly, is the only voice.
Inflamed by society, and circulated from
one loose companion to another, the s-pirit
of
On Liuxury and Licentiousness. lOo
of riot grows and swells, till it end in bru- sf.rm.
, VI
tal excess. ^^^
Were such disorders rare and occasional
merely, they niiglit perhaps be fort^otten
and ibrgiven. But nourished by repetition
and habit, they g-row up among too many,
to becaaie the business and occupation of
life. By these unfortunatevotaries of plea-
sure, they are accounted essential to hap-
piness. Life appears to stagnate without
them. Having no resource within them-
selves, theii spirits sink, and their very
being seems annihilated, till the return of
their favourite pleasures awaken within
them some transient sparkles of joy. Idle-
ness, ease, and [irosperity, have too natural
a tendency to generate the follies and vices
uow described. Because they have no
changes, said the Psalmist, therefore they
fear not God. They are the dark and
solitary hours of life, which recal men to
recollection and wisdom. They show to
the unthinking what this world really is,
and what may be expected from it. But
the day that is always bright and uncloud-
ed, is not made for men. It flatters them
with the dangerous illusion, that it is in
their
1 06 On Lduxury and Licentiousness.
SFHM. llieir power to render life one scene of
^}^ pleasure; and that tbey have no other bu-
siness on earth, hut to spread the feast ^
and call the harp and the viol to sound.
But the examples are so frequent, of the
dangers and the crimes which arise from
an intemperate abuse of pleasure, that
on this part of the subject it seems need-
less to insist any longer. 1 proceed,
therefore,
II. To consider the duties which men
are accused of having neglected ; and
which it is here supposed, if duly attended
to, would have acted as the correctives of
dissolute and irreligious luxury; these are,
to regard the work of the Lord, and to con-
sider the operation of his hands.-^^y re-
commending such duties, I do not mean to
represent it as requisite that the feast should
be turned into an act of worship ; that the
countenance of men should be always
grave; or that, in the hours of amusement
and of social festivity, no subject may em-
ploy their thoughts and their discourse
except God and a future state. All ex-
tremes in religion are dangerous ; and by
carrying
On Luxury and Licentiousness. 107
carrying austerity too far, we are in hazard skhm
of only promoting" hypocrisy. But thousrh ^^
some, in the last age, might be prone to this
exvreme ; yet, at the present day, there is
not much occasion for warning men against
it. — What I now insist upon is, that all our
pleasures ought to be tempered with a se-
rious sense of God ; that scenes of gaiety
and enjoyment should never make us forget
that we are subjects of his government, and
have a part allotted us to act in this world ,
that on no occasion they should be pro-
longed so much, repeated so often, or suf-
fered to transport us so far, as to lead us
to break any of the divine laws, or to act
inconsistently with the character of men
and Christians. A prevailing sense of God
on the mind is to be ever held the surest
guard of innocence and virtue, amidst the
allurements of pleasure. It is the salutary
mixture which must be infused into the
cup of joy, in order to render it safe and
innoxious.
This sense of God should lead us, in the
language of the prophet, to regard the
work of the Lord, and to consider the ope-
ration of his hands ; which expressions
may
108 On Ltuxury and Licentiousness.
SERM. may be understood as requiring us to have
^*' God upon our thoughts under two views ;
to regard his work, as the author of nature;
and to consider the operation of his hands,
as the Governor of the world. Let us at-
tend more particularly to each of these
views of the Supreme Being.
In the first place ; we are to view God as
the Author of nature, or to regard the
tvork oj' the Lord. With his works we are
in every place surrounded. We can cast
our eyes no where without discerning the
handof Him who forii<ed them, if the gross-
ness of our minds will only allow us to be-
hold Him. Let giddy and thoughtless
men turn aside a little from the haunts of
riot. Let them stand still, and contemplate
the wondrous works of God ; and make
trial of the effect v^ hi ch such contemplation
would produce. ^It were good for them
that, even independently of the Author,
they were more acquainted with his works ;
good for them, that from the societies of
loose and dissolute men, they would re-
treat to the scenes of nature ; would oftener
dwell among them^ and enjoy their beau-
ties.
On Luxury and Licentiousness. 109
ties. This would form them to the relish sf.rm.
of uncorrupted innocent pleasures; and ,^
make them feel the value of calm enjoy-
ments, as superior to the noise and turbu-
lence of licentious gaiety. From the har-
mony of nature and of nature's works, they
would learn to hear sweeter sounds than
what arise from the viol, the tabret, and
the pipe.
But to higher and more serious thoughts
these works of nature give occasion, when
considered in conjunction with the Creator
who made them.— Let me call on you, my
friends, to catch some interval of reflection,
some serious moment, for looking with
thoughtful eye on the world around you.
Lift your view to that immense arch of hea-
ven which compasses you above. Behold
the sun in all his splendour rolling* over
your head by day ; and the moon by night,
in mild and serene majesty, surrounded
with that host of stars, which present to
your imagination an innumerable multi-
tude of worlds. Listen to the awful voice
of thunder. Listen to the roar of the tem-
pest and the ocean. Survey the wonders
that fill the earth which you inhabit. Con-
template
110 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
»ERM. template a steady and powerful band,
„„^ bringingroiHid spring and summer, autumn
and winter, in regular course, decorating
this earth with innumerable beauties, di-
versifying it with innumerable inhabitants,
pouring forth comforts on all that live; and,
at the same time, overawing the nations
with the violence of the elements, when it
pleases the Creator to let them forth. After
you have viewed yourselves as surrounded
with such a scene of wonders ; after you
have beheld, on every hand, such an asto-
nishing display of Majesty, united with
vrisdom and goodness ; are you not seized
with solemn and serious awe ? Is there
not something which whispers you within,
that to this great Creator reverence and
homage are due by all the rational beings
whom he has made ? Admitted to be
spectators of his works, placed in the midst
of so many great and interesting objects,
can you believe that you were brought
hither for no purpose, but to immerse your-
selves in gross and brutal, or, at best, in
trifling pleasures ; lost to all st nse of the
wonders you behold ; lost to all reverence
of that God who gave you being, and who
has
On Luxury and Licentiousness. Ill
has erected tins amaziiii? fabric of nature, skrm,
on which you lo<ik only with stupid and ^^J^
unmeaning eyes ? — No : l^et the scenes
which you behold prompt correspondent
feelings. Let them awaken you from
the degrading intoxication of licentious*
ness, into nobler emotions. Every object
which you view in nature, whether great
or small, serves to instruct you. The star
and the insect, the tiery meteor and the
flower of spring, the verdant field and the
lofty mountain, all exhibit a Supreme
Power, before which you ought to tremble
and adore ; all preach the doctrine, all in-
spire the spirit of devotion and reverence.
Regarding then the work of the Lord, let
rising emotions of awe and gratitude call
forth from your souls such sentiments as
these: — Lord, wherever I am, and what'
ever I enjoy, may I never forget thee as the
author of nature ! May J never forget that
lam thy creature and thy subject/ In this
magnificent temple of the universe, where
thou hast placed me, may 1 ever be thy
faithful worshipper, and may the rever-
ence and the fear of God be the first senti-
ments of my heait.—lt is to such con-
sideration
112 On Luxury and JLicentiousness.
SERM. sideration of God I would now recal your
J^ thought from the wine and the feast, as
proper to check the spirit of levity and
folly, and to inspire manly and becoming
sentiments, in the place of criminal dissi-
pation. But,
In the second place, there is a consider-
ation of a nature still more serious, to be
employed for the same purpose ; the con-
sideration of God as not only the Author
of nature, but the Governor of hiscreatures.
While we regard the work of the Lord, we
are also to consider the never-ceasing ope-
ration of his hands. We are to look up
to an awful and irresistible Providence,
stretching its arm over our heads ; direct-
ing the fate of men, and dispensing at its
pleasure happiness or misery. In the giddy
moments ofjollity, the wanton and thought-
less are apt to say : Let vs eat and drink,
for to-morrow we die. JSTothing is better
for man, than to rejoice as much as he can
alt the days of his vain life ; and to keep
himself undisturbed by superstitious ter-
rors. He whositteth in the heavens bestows
no minute attention on the sons of earth*
He
On Luxurif and JLicentiousne'ss. 1 13
He permits all things to come alike to all ; sbum.
one event to happen to the righteous and to ^ ^"
the wicked. — Be assured, my brethren, it
is not so. Yon greatly deceive yourselves
by imagining- that your Creator and Gover-
nor is indifferent to the part you are now
acting ; or that the distribution of good
and evil, which now takes place, has no
relation to your moral conduct. In some
instances, that relation may not be a])parent,
because the moral government of God is
not completed in this world. But a mul-
titude of proofs show government to be
already begun ; and point out to you the
train in which you may expect it to pro-
ceed.
In the history of all ages and nations,
you cannot but liave observed a thousand
instances in which the operation of. the
divine hand Imsi been displayed ; overtak-
ing' evil-doers, sooner or later with punish-
ment, and bringing" on their own heads the
ruin they had devised for others. You are
not to imagine that this displeasure of Pro-
vidence is exerted only against the ambi-
tious, the treacherous, and the cruel, who
are the authors of extensive misery to the
VOL. IV. I world.
1 1 4 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
spT^M. world. Under this idea, perhaps, yoii may
,_^.^ be desirous to shelter yourselves, tltat your
excesses are of a hariuless kind ; you seek
nothing more than the enjoyment of your
own pleasures; that your /<?««^ and your
•wine interfere not with the order of the
world ; and that therefore you have done
nothing which should awake the sleeping"
thunder, and bring it down from heaven on
your heads. Though not stained with the
blackest colours of guilt, your conduct
may nevertheless be higijly offensive to the
Ruler of the world. His government is
not ofthat indolent inattentive kind, which
allows impunity to every lesser criminal.
He beholds with displeasure the behavi-
our of those who degrade their nature by
vicious disorders ; and contaminate, by
their example, every society with which
they are connected. His measures are
taken, that, in one day or other, they shall
suifer.
Look around the circle of your acquaint-
ance, and observe, whether they are not
the sober, the industrious, and the virtu-
ous, who visibly prosper in the world, and
rise into reputation and influence ; observe
whether
On lAixurtf and Licentiousness. 115
whether tlie licentious and intemperate are serm.
not constantly hiunhled and checked by ^^'
some dark reverse either in their health or
their fortune ; whether the irreligious and
profligate are ever suffered to escape lon^,
without being 'marked with infamy, and
becoming objects of contempt.— 1 ask, to
what cause this is to be ascribed, but to
that operation of the hand of God, which
J am now calling you to consider ? Does
it not obviously carry the marks of a plan,
a system of things contrived and fore-or-
dained by Providence, for rewarding vir-
tue, and punishing vice in every form of its
disorders ?— The Governor of the world
need not for this purpose step from his
throne, or put forth his hands from the
clouds. With admirable wisdom he has
so ordered the train of human affairs, tiiat,
in their natural course, men's own wick-
edness shall reprove them, and their back-
slidings correct them \ that they shall be
made to eat the fruit of their doings, and
to fall into the pit which themselves had
digged.
These things have been always so appa-
rent to observation, that though a man
1 2 may
116 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
SERM. may have been seduced into irregular and
^^- evil courses during his life, yet, at the close
^^ oi it, it seldom happens but lie discerns
their pernicious nature, and condeii;ns
himself for them- Never, perhaps, was
there a father, who, after he had spent his
days in idleness, dissipation, and luxury,
did not, when dying, admonish the chil-
dren whom he loved, to hold a more ho-
nourable course, to follow the paths of
virtue, to fear God, and to fulfil properly
the duties of their station.— To yourselves,
indeed, I can confidently appeal, whether
what I am now saying, be not confirmed
by your own testimony. After you have
been guilty of some criminal acts, in the
course of those riotous pleasures which you
indulge, have you not, at certain times,
felt the stings of remorse ? Were you not
obliged to confess to yourselves, that a sad
prospect of misery was opening before you,
if such excesses were to continue? Did
you not hear an inward voice upbraiding
you for having sunk and degraded your
character so far below that of many of your
equals around you? My friends, what
was this but the voice of God, speaking, as
the
On Lud:ury and Liicentiousness. 1 17
tlie Governor of his creatures, within your sEitM.
heart; testifyiui»' h)utlly that your course ^^'
of lite was displeasing to liim ; and warn-
ing- you of |)unishniei»ts tliat were to follow?
If his displeasure ai^ainst you is already
bejiun to be testified, can you tell where it
is to stop, or how long it may continue to
pursue you throughout future stages of
your existence? Who knoweth the power
ofhisivrathf To this awful, this warning
voice, will you not be persuaded reverent-
ly to listen? Impressed by the dread au-
thority which it carries, ^hall you not fall
down on your knees before your Maker,
imploring his mercy to pardon your past
offences, and his grace to rectify your fu-
ture way ?
Such onglit to be the effects of the con-
sideration of God as the Governor of the
world. It leads to thoughts of a very se-
rious nature. When we regard the work
of the Lord, and contemplate him as the
Author of the universe, such contempla-
tion prompts devotion. But when we con-
sider the operation of his hands in provi-
dence, and contemplate him as the Go-
1 iJ vernor
118 On Luxury and Licentiousness.
8ERM. vernor of mankind, such contemplation
J^ prompts humiliation before him for offen-
ces committed. The former addresses it-
self to the ingenuous sentiments that are
left in the heart ; and awakens a sense of
our unworthiness, in neglecting the Author
of nature amidst our riotous pleasures.
The latter addresses itself to our regard
for safety and happiness; and awakens
fear and dread, from consciousness of the
guilt we have contracted. Hence springs
up, in every thoughtful mind, an anxious
concern to avert the displeasure, and re-
gain the favour of that Supreme Being to
whom we are all subject. This, among
unenlightened nations, gave rise to sacri-
fices, expiations, and all the rites of hum-
ble though superstitious worship. Among-
nations, who have been instructed in true
religion, sentiments of the same nature
pave the way for prayer, repentance, faith,
and all those duties, by means of which
we may hope, through a divine Mediator
and Intercessor, to be reconciled to heaven.
Natural and revealed religion here appear
in concord. We behold the original dic-
tates of the human heart laying a founda-
tion
On Ijuxury unci Licentiousness. \\9
tion for the ^lad reception of the comfort- serm.
able tidings of the gospel. J^J_^
1 HAVE thus endeavoured to show in what
manner by regarding the work of the Lord,
and considering the operation of his hands,
we may prevent the dangers arising from
a thoughtless indulgence of pleasure ; we
may be furnished with an antidote to the
poison which is too often mixed in that
intoxicating cup. — Human life is full of
troubles. We are all tempted to alleviate
them as much as we can, by freely enjoy-
ing tlie f)leasurable mi^ment \\ hich Provi-
dence thinks fit to allow us. Enjoy them
we may: But, if we would enjoy them
safely, and enjoy them long, let us temper
them with the fear of God. As soon as
this is forgotten and obliterated, the sound
of the harp and the viol is changed into
the signal of death. The serpent comes
forth from the roses where it had lain in
ambush, and gives the fatal sting. Plea-
sure in moderation is the cordial, in excess
it is the bane, of life*
[ 120 3
SERMON VII.
On the Presence of God in a Future
State.
Psalm, xvi. 11.
Thou wilt show me the path of life : In
thy presence is fulness of jot/ ; at thy
right hand there are pleasures for ever-
more.
SERM. ^TpHEapostle Peter, in a discourse which
• JL he held to the Jews, applies this
passage, in a mystical and prophetical
sense, to the Messiah. But, in its literal
and primitive meaning", it expresses the
exalted hopes by which the Psalmist David
supported himself amidst the changes and
revolutions, of which his life was full. By
.these hopes, when flying before 8aul, when
driven
On the Presence of God, ^'c. 121
driven from his throne, and persecuted by serm.
an unnatural son, he was enabled to pre- ^^_^^
serve his virtue, and to maintain unshaken
trust in God- In that early age of the
world, those explicit discoveries of a state
of immortality, which we enjoy, had not
yet been given to mankind. But though
the Sun of righteousness was not arisen, the
dawn had appeared of that glorious day
which he was to introduce. Even in those
ancient times holy men, as the Apostle
writes to the Hebrews, saiv the promises
afar off, and were persuaded of tLem, ai d
embraced them ; and conj-essing that they
were strangers and pilgrims on earth, de-
clared that they sought after a better coun-
try, that is, an heavenly. Indeed, in every
age, God permitted such hopes to afford
support and consolation to those who
served him. The full effect of them we
behold in those triumphant expressions of
the text, which are to be the subject of this
discourse. They lead us to consider ; first,
The hope of the Psalmist in his present
state ; Thou wilt show me the path of life.
And, secondly, the termination of his hope
in that future state, where in the presence
of
122 Oil the Presence of God
SEHM of God is fulness of joy, and id his rioht
vir.
^^^' hand there are pleasures for evermore.
I. Thou wilt show me the path of life.
Tbisplainly imports that there are diifereiil
paths or courses of conduct, which may be
pursued by men in this world ; a path
which leads to life or happiness, and a
path which issues in death or destruction.
These opposite Sines of conduct are deter-
mined by the choice which men make of
virtue or of vice ; and hence men are divid-
ed into two great classes, according as their
inclinations lead them to good or evil
llie path of life is often a rough and diffi-
cult path, tullowed only by a few. The
opposite one is the broad way, in which
the multitude walk ; seemingly smooth,
and strewed with flowers; but leading in
the end to death and misery. The path
of life conducts us up a steep ascent. The
palace of virtue, has, in all ages, been re-
presented as placed on the summit of a hill;
in the ascent of which labour is requisite,
and difficulties are to be surmounted ; and
where a conductor is needed, to direct our
way, and to aid our steps.
No^',
m a Future State. 123
Now, the hope which ^^o<»d men enter- skrm.
tain is, that this patli of life shall be shown ^^^*
them by God ; that, u hen tlieir intenti-ons
are ui)nght, God will both instruct them
concerning* the road which leads to true
happiness, and will assist them to pursue
it successfully. Among nations where
any suitable ideas of God or of virtue be-
gan to be formed, hopes of this nature also
began to be entertained. It was conso-
nant to the nature of nsan, to think that
the Supreme Being was favourable to vir-
tue. Accordingly, in the writings of some
of the ancient philosophers, we find vari-
ous obscure traces of this belief, that there
was a benign heavenly Spirit, who illumi-
nated the minds of the virtuous, and assist-
ed their endeavours to obtain wisdom and
happiness. They even asserted, that, no
man became great or good without some
inspiration of Heaven.
But what they indistinctly conceived,
and could not with confidence rely upon,
the doctrine of Christianity hath clearly
explained and fully confirmed ; expressly
and frequently teaching, that, not only by
the external discoveries of revelation, but
by
124 On the Presence of God
SERM by the inward operations of his Spirit, he
J^ shoivs to the humble and virtuous the path
of life. While, by his word, he instructs
thein in their duty, by the influence of his
grace, he assists them in the performance
of it. In all revelation there is certainly
110 doctrine more comfortable than this.
It is to iiood men a noble and pleasing
thought, that they are pursuing a path
God has discovered and pointed out to
them. For they know that every path, in
which he is their conductor, must be ho-
nourable, must be safe, must bring them
in the end to felicity. They follow that
Shepherd of Israel, who always leads his
flock into green pastures ; and makes therti
lie down beside the still waters. At the
same time, they know that, if there be
truth in religion at all, on this principle
they may securely rest, that the Divine
Being will never desert those who are en-
deavouring to follow out, as they can, the
path which he has shown them. Hebe-
holds them here in a state of great imbeci-
lity ; surrounded with much darkness ;
exposed to numberless dangers ; from the
temptations that assault them without^ and
the
in a Future State. 125
theseduction of niisouided and disorderly sf.hvt.
passions within. In this sitnation, can ^^^^
they ever suspect that the Father of mer-
cies will leave his servants, alone and un-
befriended, to strug-gle up the hill of virtue,
without stretching fort'i a compassionate
arm to aid their frailty, and to guide thera
through the bewildering paths of life?
Where were then the God of love? Where,
those infinite compassions of his nature, in
which all his \\ orshippers have Ijeen encou-
raged to trust?— No: He will send forth
Ids light and his truth to bring them to his
holy hill. For the righteous Lord loveth
righteousness, and his countenance behold-
eth the upright. With him there is no
oblique purpose, to turn him aside from
favouring the cause of goodness. No un-
dertaking, to which he has given his coun-
tenance, shall prove abortive. No promise
that he has made shall be allowed to fall.
Whom he loveth, he loveth to the end-
The secret of the Lord is with them that
fear him^ and he uill show them his cove-
nant. The meek will he guide in judgment,
and them will lie teach his way. His
^race shall be sufficient for them, and his
strength
126 On the Presence of God
SERM strength be made perfect in their iveali-
3il^ ness- They go from strength to strength',
every one of them appeareth before God in
Zion. — Such are tlie hopes with which
good men in the present life set forth on a
course of piety and virtue. Thou wilt
show me the path of life. Let us now
proceed,
II. To consider the termination of these
hopes in a future state. In thy presence
is fulness of joy ; at thy right hand there
are pleasures for evermore. All hap])i-
ness assuredly dwells with God. The
fountain of life is justly said to be with
him. That supreme and independent Be-
ing must necessarily possess within him-
self every principle of beatitude; and no
cause from without can possibly affect his
untroubled felicity. Anion u' created de-
pendent beings, happiness flows in scat-
tered and feeble streams ; streams that are
often tinged with the blackness of misery.
But from before the throne of God issues
the river of life, full, unmixed, and pure ;
and the pleasures, which now in scanty
portions we are permitted to taste, are all
derived
in a Future State. 1*27
derived from that source. Whatever glad- skhm.
dens the hearts of men or angels, with any ^
real and satisfactory joy, comes from hea-
ven. It is a portion of the pure influence
flqiving front the glorif of the Almighty ;
Si Ya.y issuing from the brightness of ever-
lasting life. It is manifest, therefore, that
every approach to God must bean approach
to felicity. The enjoyment <if his immecii-
ate presence must betlie consummation of
felicity; and it is to this presence that tlie
Psalmist liere expresses his liope that tlje
path of life was to conduct him.
The whole of what is implied in ariiving
at the presence of the Divinity, we cannot
expect to com [)reher.d. Such expressions
as these of Scripture, beholding the face of
God; being made glad with the light of
his countenance, and satisfied ivith his
likeness ; seeing light in his light ; seeing
no longer dark It/ as through a glass, but
face to face ; seeing him as he is ; are ex-
pressions altogether mysterious, conveying
sublime though obscure ideas of the most
perfect happiness and highest exaltation of
human nature. This we know, that the
absence
128 On the Presence of God
SERM. absence of God, the distance at which we
Jlji^ are now placed from any communication
with our Creator, is one great source of our
infelicity. Faith exerts its endeavours,
but often ineffectually, to raise our souls to
him. He is a God that hideth himself.
His ways seem intricate and perplexed.
We frequently cannot reconcile them to
the conceptions which he had formed of
his nature ; and with many a suspicion and
doubt they perplex the inquiring mind.
His works we survey with astonishment.
We wonder and adore. But while we
clearly trace the footsteps of their great
Author, his presence we can never discern.
We go forward, but he is not there ; and
backward, hut we cannot perceive him ; on
the left hand, where he woi^keth, but we
cannot behold him: he hideth himself on
the right hand, that we cannot see him. —
Hence, amidst the various sorrows and
discouragements of the present state, that
exclamation of Job's is often drawn forth
from the pious heart, O that I knew where
I might find him, that 1 might come even
to his seat/
Surrounded by such distressing obscurity,
no
in a Fulure Stale. 1*29
no lioj)e more transjmrtiiio;' can be opened sf.rm.
VM.
to ii good man, than that a period is to ^""
come, wlien iie sliall be allowed to draw
nearer to tlie Author ot" his existence, and
to enjoy the sense of his presence. In
order to convey some faint idea of that fu-
tu're bliss, by such an image as we can now
employ, let the image be taken from the
most glorious representative of the Supreme
Being, with which we are acquainted ia
this world, the Sun in the heavens. As
that resplendent luminary cheers and re-
vives the universe, when, after the dark-
ness of a tempestuous night, it comes forth
in the morning- with its brightest lustre,
and inspires every heart with gladness;
as ascending" gradually through the hea-
vens, it converts that whole vast extent,
over which its beams are diffused, into a
region of light ; and thus changes entirely
the state of objects, by arraying all nativre
in beauty, and transforming it into the
image of its own brightness:— Some such
change as this, though in a degree infinite-
ly superior, ^^ e may conceive the revelation
of the Divine Presence to produce upon
the human soul. I will behold thi/ face
^OL. IV K in
ViO On the Presence of God
sEftM in 7'ig'hteousness : I shall be satisfied when
^^ / awake with thy likeness. —^ut without
endeavouring farther to unfold mysteries
which we cannot explore, there are two
sublime and expressive views of the Divine
Essence given us in Scripture, on which it
may be edifying" that our thoughts should
rest for a little, in order to aid our concep-
tions of the blessedness of good men here-
after, in the presence of God. It is said,
God is light. God is love. Let us con-
sider what fulness of jot/ must arise from
such manifestations of the Divine Essence
to the blessed.
God is light. The revelation of his pre-
sence infers, of course, a complete ditt'usi on
of light and knowledge among all who
partake of that presence. This unques-
tionably forms a primary ingredient of
ha|)piness. Ignorance, or the want of light,
is the source of all our present misconduct,
and all our misfortunes. The heart of
man is dark ; and in the darkness of his
heart is the seat of his corruption. He is
unable to discern what is truly good. Per-
petually employed in search of happiness,
he is perj)e(uully misled by false aj3pear-
ances
in a Future State. 131
ances of it. The errors of his understand- skrm
ing impose upon his passions; and in con- ^'
sequence of the wrong direction which his
passions take, he is betrayed into a thou-
sand disorders. Hence sensuality, cove-
tousness, and all the violent contests with
others about trifles, which occasion so
much misery and so many crimes in the
world. He feedetk on ashes, a, deceived
heart hath turned him aside that he cannot
deliver his soul, nor say. Is there not a lie
in my right hand? — Once open to him the
perfect sources of knowledge and truth;
suppose him placed in tiie presence of God
who is Light: suppose him illuminated
by light derived immediately from the
Supreme Being; presently all his former
errors would fly away, as mists are dispel-
led by the rising sun. His whole nature
would be changed and reformed. The
prejudices which obscured his under-
standing would be removed. The seduc-
tions of his passions would disappear.
Rectitude and virtue, having nothing now
to obstruct their entrance, would take en-
tire possession of his heart. Angels are
happier than men, because they enjoy more
K 2 enlarged
1 32 On the Presence of God
SERM enlarged knowledge and views ; because
7"' tliey labour under none of our unli ppy
deceptions; but see the truth as it is lu
himself; see it, as it is in God. Sharing
the same light which illuminates them,
ffood men in a future state will share in
their felicity.
Moreover, the light that flows from the
presence of him, who is the original source
of light, not only banishes miseries which
were the effects of former darkness, but
also confers the most exquisite enjoyment.
The knowledge afforded us at present
serves to supply our most pressing wants ;
but itdoesnomore. It is always imperfect
and unsatisfactoiy ; nay, much painful
anxiety it often leaves. Narrow is the
sphere within which the mind can see at
all ; and even there it can see only darkly
as through a glass. But when it shall be
enlarged beyond this dusky territory, let
loose from this earthly prison, and in God's
light permitted to see light, the most mag-
nificent and glorious spectacles must open
to the view of the purified spirit. What
must it be to behold the whole stupendous
scene of nature unveiled, and its hidden
mysteries
in a Future State. J 33
mysteries disclosed ! — To trace the wise ^^ri-v!.
and just i>(>vermiieiit of the Almighty, ^^^^
through all those intricacies which had so
long- perplexed usl To behold his hand
conducting' ten thousand worlds, which
are now unknown to us ; and throughout
all the regions of boundless space, to view
wisdom and goodness perpetually acting-,
and diversifying' its operations in for ' s of
endlesss variety ! Well may such disco-
veries inspire that song of the blessed,
which the apostle John heard as the voice
of many waters, and as the voice of mighty
thunderings, saying. Alleluia ! For the
Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Great
and marvellous are thy ivorhs, Lord God
Almighty / just and true are thy irays,
thou King of saints/ As God is Light, so
also it is said in Scrip ture,
God is Love. His presence must, of
course, diffuse love amongall who are per-
mitted to dwell m it. He that loveth not,
knoweth not God. He that dwelleth in
love, dwelleth in God, and God in him.
Were man a single, solitary being, the
full enjoyment of light might suffice for his
K 3 happiness ;
134 On the Presence of God
SERM. happiness ; as the perfection of knowledge
"try r
^^^ would rectify and improve to tlie highest
all his faculties. But, both here and here-
after, he is connected with other beings.
Heaven implies a society ; and the felicity
of that society is constituted by the per-
fection of love and afoodness, Ho.vinu from
the presence of the God of love.
Hence follows the entire purification ol
human nature from all those malevolent
passions, which have so long rendered our
abode on earth the abode of misery. We
greatly deceive ourselves when we charge
our chief distresses merely to the account
of our external condition in the world.
From the disadvantages attending it, I
admit, that we may often have been ex-
posed to suffer. We may have met with
disappointments in our pursuits. By the
arrows of misfortune we may have been
wounded. Under infirmities of body, we
may have languished. But on this we
may depend, that the worst evils of our
present condition arise from the want of
goodness and love ; from the disorders of
selfish passions; from the irritation which
these occasion when working within our-
selves.
in a Future State. 135
selves, and the distress which they pro- skrm.
duce when breakiiii; out upon us irom ^^^
otliers ; in a word, from tliat corrupted
state of temper, and that reciprocation of
jealousies, suspicions, and injuries, which
is ever taking place among the societies of
men. Could you banish distrust, craft,
and uncharitableness from the earth, and
form all mankind into an assembly of the
just and the benevolent ; could you inspire
every heart with kind affections, and ren-
der every one friendly and generous to his
neighbour ; yon would banish at once the
most afflictive tribe of human evils. Sel-
dom would the voice of complaint be heard.
All nature would assume a different aspect.
Cheerfulness would be seen in every coun-
tenance. Paradise would return. The
wilderness would smile ; the desert rejoice
and blossom as a rose. — Now such are the
effects which the presence of the God of
love must produce on the inhabitants above,
beholding' his glort/ they are changed into
the same image. Tn that temple of eternal
love, which his presence has hallowed and
consecrated, no sound but the voice of
harmony is ever heard ; no appearances
K 4 ever
1 36 On the Presence of God
SERM. ever present themselves but those of peace
,^^^ and joy.
Thus, considermg God under these two
illustrious characters which are given of
him in Scripture, as Light and as Love, it
follows that in his presence there must be
fulness of joy. But I am far from saying,
that the few imperfect hints I have now
given, exhort, or even approach to, the sum
of those pleasures for evermore which are
at God's right hand. Ten thousand plea-
sures are there, wliicb now we have neither
faculties to conijjreliend, nor powers to en-
joy. Behind thatntysteriouscloud, which
covers tiie habitation of eternity, the view
of mortals cannot penetrate. Content with
our humble and distant situation we must
as yet remain. Faith can only look to those
glories from afar. In patient silence, it must
wait, trust, and adore.
Supposing the ideas which I have set
before you, in this discourse, to be no more
than the speculations of a contemplative
mind, such as were wont of old to be in-
dulged by the philosophers of the Platonic
school, still they would deserve attention
on
in a Future State. 1 87
on account of their tendency to purify and seum.
elevate the mind. But uiien they are
considered in connection \> itl» a revelation,
which, upon grounds the most unquestion-
able, we believe to be divine, they are en-
titled to command, not attenti(m only, but
reverence and faith. — They present to as
such high expectations as are sufficient to
determine every reasonable man to the
choice of virtue ; to support him under all
its present discouragements, and to comfort
him in the Imurof death. Justly may they
excite in our hearts, that ardent aspiration
of the Psalmist: Aly soul t hirst eth for
God, for the living' God ; Oh/ when shall
I come and appear before him ! — But,
with this wish in our hearts, never. 1 be-
seech you, let us forget wliat was set fortL
in the first ])art of this discourse; that, in
order to arrive at the presence of God, the
path of life must previously be shown to
us by him, and that m this path we must
])ersevere to the end. These two things
cannot be disjoined, a virtuous life, aftd a
happy eternity. Who shall ascend unto
the hill of the Lord? and who shall stand
in his hohf place? He onli/ who hath
clean
I'iS On the Presence of God, ^^c.
sEiiM clean hands and a pure heart. Between
^^ a corrupted heart and the God of liglitand
love there never can be any connection.
But of this we may rest assured, that the
path of piety and virtue, pursueci with a
lirni and constant spirit, will in the end,
through the merits of our blessed Redeemer,
bring us to that presence, where is fulness
of joy, and where are pleasures for ever-
more-
[ 139 ]
S E li M O N VIII.
>n Curiosity Concerning the Affairs
ol Others.
John, xxi. 21, 22.
Peter seeing- him, saith to Jesus, Lord, and
what shall this man do? Jesus saith
unto him. If I will that he tarry till I
come, what is that to thee? Follow thou
me.
THESE words occurred in a conference sfrm.
which our Lord held with Simon , L
Peter, alter his resurrection from the dead.
Conscious of the disgrace which he had
incurred by his late denial of his Master,
Peter must at this time have appeared
before him with shame. Our Lord, after
a tracit rebuke, implied in the question
which he repeatedly puts to him, Simon,
son
140 On Curiosity concerning
SERM. 50W of Jonas, lovest tJiou mef restores
^]^ him, with great benignity, to his office as
an apostle, by giving the commandment to
feed his sheep, and intimates aiso, that it
should be his lot to suti'er death in the
cause ,of his Master. The apostle John,
distinguished here by the denomination
of the disciple whom Jesus loved, being
present at this conversation, Peter, who
was always eager and forward, looking to
John, puts this question to our Saviour,
Lord, and what shall this man do F What
shall be his employment'^ what his rank
and station in thy kingdom ? what his
fatuie fate in life. — ^y what jirinciple
Peter was moved to put this unseasonable
and improper question to his Master ; whe-
ther it arose from meie curiosity, or from
some emotion of rivalshij) and jealousy,
does not appear ; but it is plain that our
Lord was dissatisfied with the inquiry
which he made ; and presently he checks
Peter's curiosity, by a severe reply ; What
is that to thee? What is it to thee what
this man shall do ; what shall be his rank;
or what the circumstance of his life or his
deaths Attend thou to thine own duty.
Mind
tite Ajfairs of Others. 141
Mind thif proper eoncerns. Fulfil the part sf.rm.
ivhieh I have allotted to thee. Follow ^'
thou me. — The instruction uhich arises
from this conversation of our Lord's with
Peter, is, That all prying inquires into the
state, circumstances, or character of others,
are reprehensible and improper ; that to
every man a particular charge is assigned
by his Lord and Master, the fulfillment of
which ought to be the primary object of
his attention, without officiously thrusting
himself into the concerns of others. The
illustration of these points shall make the
subject of the present discourse.
That idle curiosity, that inquisitive and
meddling spirit which leads men to pry
into the affairs of their neighbours, is re-
prehensible on three accounts. It inter-
rupts the good order, and breaks the peace
of society. It brings forward and nourishes
several l)ad passions. It draws men aside
from a j)roper attention to the discharge of
their ow n duty.
It interrupts, I say, the order, and breaks
the peace of society. In this world we are
linked together by many ties. We are
bound
142 On Curiositt/ concerning'
SERM bound by duty, and we are prompted by
^^" interest, to give jtiutual assistance, and to
perform iriendly ofFaces to each other. But
those friendly offices are performed to most
advantage, when we avoid to interfere un-
necessarily in the concerns of our neigh-
bour. Every man has his own part to act,
has his own interest to consult, has affairs
of his own to manage, which his neighbour
has no call to scrutinize. Human life then
proceeds in its most natural and orderly
train, when every one keeps within the
bounds of his proper province ; when, as
long as his pursuits are fair and lawful, he
is allowed, without disturbance, to con-
duct them in his oun way. That ye study
to be quiet, and do your own business is the
apostolic rule, and indeed the great rule,
for preservation of harmony and order.
But so it is, that, in every age, a set of men
have existed, who, driven by an unhappy
activity of spirit, oftener perhajjs than by
any settled design of doing ill, or any mo-
tives of ambition or interest, love to in-
termeddle where they have no concern, to
inquire into the private affairs of others,
and, from the imperfect information which
they
the Affairs of Others. 1 4^
thev collect, to form conclusions concern- sfrm.
ing their circiinjstances and character. ^^^^
These are they who, in iScripture, are clia-
racterised as tatlers, and busif bodies in
other men's matters, and Irom whom we are
called to turn awatj.
Though persons ot" this description should
be prompted by nothing but vain curiosity,
they are, nevertheless, dangerous troublers
of the world. While they conceive them-
selves to be iuoiiensive, they are sowing
dissension and feuds. Crossing the lines
in which others move, they create contu-
sion, and awaken resentment. For every
man conceives himseh to be injured, when
he tinds another intruding into his affairs,
and, without any title, taking upon him
to examine hisconduct. Being improper-
ly and unnecessarily disturbed, he claims
the right of disturbing in his turn those
who wantonly have troubled him. Hence,
many a friendship has been broken; the
peace of many a family has been over-
thrown ; and much bitter and lasting
discord has been propagated through so-
ciety.
While this spirit of meddling curiosity
injures
144 On Curiosity concer^nng
SERM. injures so considerably the peace and
%'iii. gQQ(j order of the world, it also nourishes,
among individuals who are addicted to it,
a multitude of bad passions. Its most fre-
quent source is mere idleness, which, in
itself a vice, never fails to engender many
vices more. The mind of man cannot be
long without some food to nourish the ac-
tivity of its thoughts. The idle, who have
no nourishment of this sort within them-
selves, feed their thoughts with inquiries
mto the conduct of their neighbours. The
inquisitfve and curious are always talka-
tive. What they learn, or fancy them-
selves to have learned, concerning others,
they are generally in haste to divulge. A
tale which the malicious have invented,
and the credulous have propagated; a ru-
mour which, arising" from the multitude,
and transmitted by one to another, has, in
every step of its progress, gained fresh
additions, becomes in the end the founda-
tion of confident assertion, and of rash and
severe judgment.
It is often by a spirit of jealousy and ri-
valry, that the researches of such persons
are prompted. They wish to discover
something:
ike Affairs of Others. 1 45
sometlnirj: tliat will bring down their sfhm.
VTl I
neiL»liboiir's character, circumstances, or
reputition, to the level of their own ; or
that will riatter them with an opinion of
their own superiority. A secret malignity
lies at the bottom of their inquires. Tt may
be concealed by an affected show of can-
dour and impartiality. It may even be
veiled with the appearance of a friendly
concern for the interestof others, and with
affected apologies for their failings. J3nt
the hidden rancoar is easily discovered. —
While, therefore, persons of this descrip-
tion trouble the peace of society, they at
the same time poison their own minds w ith
maliguant passions. Their disposition is
entirely the reverse of that amiable spirit
of charity, on v>hich our religion lays so
great a stress. Charity covereth the mul-
titude of sins ; but the prying and med-
dling spirit seeks to discover and divulge
them. Charity thinketh no evil; but this
temper inclines us always to suspect the
worst. Charity rejoiceth not in iniquity ;
this temper triumphs in the discovery
of errors and failings. Charity, like the
sun, brightens every object on which it
VOL. IV. L shines ;
146 On Curiosity concerning
SERM. shines ; a censorious disposition casts every
^'^'* character into the darkest shade it will
bear.
It is to be farther observed, that all im-
pertinent curiosity about the affairs oi
otijers tends greatly to obstruct personal
reloraiation ; as it draws men's thoughts
aside from what ought to be the chief ob-
ject of attention, the improvement of their
own heart and life. They wlio are so offi-
ciously occupied about their neighbours,
have little leisure, and less inclination, to
observe their own defects, or to mind their
own duty. From their inquisitive re-
searches, they find, or imagine they find,
in the behaviour of others, an apology for
their own failings: And the favourite re-
sult of their inquiries generally is, to rest
satisfied wirlj themselves. They are at
least as good, they think, as others around
them. The condenmation which they pass
on the vices of their neighbours, they in-
terpret to be a sentiment of virtue in them-
selves. They become those hvpocrites
described by our Lord, who see clearly
the mote that is iiu their neighbour's eye,
while
the Affairs of Others. 147
while theif discern not the beam that is in serm.
their own. ^^^\
In opposition to such a character as this,
the doctrine plainly inculcated by the text
is, that to every man a particular charge
is i^iven by his Lord and Master, a part is
assii,^ned him by Providence to act ; that
to this he ought to bend his chief attention;
and, instead of scrutinising the character
or state of others, ought to think of him-
self, and leave them to stand or fall by their
own master. What shall this man dof
said Peter. What, replies our Lord, is
that to thee? Follow thou me.
Where persons possess any important
station, ordistinguished rank, in the world,
the application of this doctrine to them is
manifest. If they have any candour, they
cannot refuse to acknowledge that God,
and the world have a title to expect from
them a diligent attention to their proper
part in life ; and that to waste their time in
idle inquiries about others, with whom
they have nothing to do, is reprehensible
and sinful. But there are multitudes of
mankind, to whom this appears in a very
different light. They arc humble and
L 2 private
148 On Curiosity concerning
SERM private men, who are willing' to conceive
^^^^' themselves as oi' little importance in the
world. Having" no extensive influence,
and no call, as they ihink, to distinguish
themselves by active exertions in any
sphere, they imagine that they may inno-
cently lead an idle lile, and indulge their
curiosity, by canvassing at pleasure the cha-
racter and the behaviour of those around
them. With persons of this description
every society too much abounds. — My bre-
thren, no one ought to consider himself as
insignificant in tl e sight of God. In our
several stations we are all sent forth to be
labourers in God's vineyard. Every man
has his work allotted, his talent committed
to him ; by the due improvement of which
he might, in one way or other, serve God,
promote virtue, and be useful in the world.
Occupy till 1 come, is the charge given to
all Christians without exception. To be
entirely unemployed and idle is the prero-
gative of no one, in any rank of life.
Even that sex, whose task is not to min-
gle in the labours of public and active bu-
siness, have their own part assigned them
to act. In the quiet of domestic shade,
there
the Affairs of Others. 149
there are a variety of virtues to be exercis- serm
ed, and of iuiportant duties to bedischarg- ^^^
ed. Much depends on them for the main-
tenance of private ecououiy and order, for
the educalion of the young, and for the re-
lief and comfort of those whose functions
engage them in the toils of the world.
Even where no such fejjtale duties occur
to be performed, the cure of preparing- for
future usefulness, and of attaining such ac-
complishments as procure just esteem, is
laudable. In such duties and cares, how
far better is time employed, than in that
search into private concerns, that circula-
tion of rumours, those discussions of the
conduct, and descants on the character of
others, which engross conversation so much,
and which end, for the most part, in seve-
rity of censure.
In whatever condition we are placed, to
act always in character should be our con-
stant rule. He who acts in character is
above conteuspt, though his station be low.
He who acts out of character is despicable,
though his station be ever so high. What
is that to thee, what this man or that man
L 3 does }
150 On Curiosity concerning
SERM. does? Think of what thou oughtest to do
3Ji[,' thyself; of what is suitable to thy charac-
ter and place ; of what the world has a title
to expect from thee. Every excursion of
vain curiosity a bout others, is a substraction
from that time and thoug:ht which was due
to ourselves and due to God. Having
gifts, says the apostle Paul, differing ac-
cording to the grace that is given us, whe-
ther ministry, let lis ivait on our miNister-
ings; or he that teacheth, on teaching ; or
he that exhorteth, on exhortation. He
that giveth, let him do it ^ ith simplicity ;
he that rulethwith diligence ^ he thai show-
cth 7nercy, with cheerfulness.
In the great circle of human affairs, there
is room lor every one to be busy and well
employed in iiis own province, without
encroaching n pon that of others. It is the
province of superiors to direct ; of inferiors,
to obey ; of the learned to be instructive ;
of the ignorant, to be docile ; of the old,
to be communicative ; of the young, to be
advisible and diligent. Art thou poor?
show thyselfactive aud industrious, peace-
able and contented. Art thou wealthy?
show
th e Affa irs of Oth ers . 1 5 1
show tliyseU* beneficent and eliai itahle, sikm.
condescending- anil liii inane. Ittlionliv- ^''^'
est nmch in the \^()^ld, it is thy duly to
make the light ot' a t?ood example shine
conspionously before others. It thou livest
private and retired, it is thy business to
improve thine own mind, and to add, if
tliou canst do no more, one faitiiful subject
to tlie Messiah's kingdom. There is in-
deed no man so sequestered from active
life, but within his own narrow sphere he
may find some opportunities of doing good;
of cultivating friendship, pro!f.otii:g peace,
and discharging many of these lesser offi-
ces of humanity and kindness, wliich are
within the reach of every oi;e, and which
we all owe to one another. In all the va-
rious relations which subsist among us in
life, as husband and wife, master and ser-
vants, parents and children, relations and
friends, rulers and subjects, innumerable
duties stand ready to be performed ; innu-
meral^le calls to virtuous activity present
themselves on every hand, suttiicient to fill
up with advantage and honour the whole
time of man.
There is, in particular, one great and
L 4 comprehensive
152 On Curiosity concerning
SERM. comprehensive object of attention, which,
^}}^ in the text, is placed in direct opposition
to that idle curiosity reprehended by our
Lord ; tliat is, to follow Clirist, Follow
thou me- What this man or that man
does ; how he employs his time ; what use
he makes of his talents ; how he succeeds
in the world ; are matters, concerning
which the information we receive can ne-
ver be of great importance to us ; often, is
of no importance at all. But how our Sa-
viour behaved wiiile he was on earth, or
how, in our situation, he would have be-
haved, are matters of the highest monjent
to every Christian.
The commandment given in the text, to
follow him, inci udes both ol servance of his
words, and imitation of his example. The
words of Christ contain, as we all know,
the standing rule of our life. His example
exhibits the great model on which our con-
duct ought to be formed ; and it is to this
that the precept here delivered directly
refers.— Examples have great influence on
all. But by aJl human examples, we are
in danger of being occasionally misled.
We
the Affairs of Others. 1 53
We are ever obliged to be on our guard, serm.
lest the admiration of what is estimable, .^^^^
betray us into a reseinblaune of what is
blemished and faulty. For the most per-
fect human characters, in tlie jnidst of their
brightness and beauty, are always marked
with some of those dark spots which stain
the nature of man. But our Lord posses-
sed all the virtues of the greatest and best
men, without partaking any of their de
fects. In him, all was light without a
shade, and beauty, without a slain. At
the san»e time, his examjde is attended
with this singular advantage, of being
more accommodated than any other to gene-
ral imitation. It was distinguished by no
unnatural austerities, no atfected singula-
rities; but exhibits the plain and simple
tenor of all those virtues for which we have
most frequent occasion in ordinary life.
In order to render it of more universal
benefit, our Lord fixed his residence in no
particular place; he tied himself down to
no particular calling or way of living ; but
gives us the opportunity of viewing his
behaviour, in that variety of lights which
equallv and indifferently regard all man-
kind.
154 Oil Curiositff concerning
SERM kind. His life was divided between the
VIII. YeWred and the active state. Devotion and
business equally shared it. In the dis-
charge of that high office with which he
was vesied, \^ e beliold the perfect model
of a pui>lic character ; and we behold the
most beajitih I example of private life,
when we contemplate him among his dis-
ciples, as a father in the midst of liis fanjily.
By such means he has exhibited before us
specimens of every kind of virtue; and to
all ranks and classes of men has afforded
a pattern after v hich they may copy.
Hardly is there any emergency which can
occur in life, but from some incident in our
Saviour's conduct, from son^e feature dis-
played in his character, we are enabled to
say to ourselves, Thus Clnisl ivould have
spoken, thus he would have acted, thus he
would have suffered, if he had been cir-
cumstanced as ive are now.
Instead, therefore, of thinking of thy
neighbours around thee, and of inquiring
how they behave, keep Ciirist in thine eye,
and in thy whole conduct follow him.
Follow hitn in l»is steady and conscienti-
ous discharge of duty, amidst opposition .
from
the Affairs of Others. 1 55
from evil meu and a corrupted world, serm.
VIII.
Follow him in his patient submission to ^^"'
his Father's will, and the calmness of his
spirit under all trials. Follow him in his
acts of disinterested benevolence, in his
compassioi to the unhap[)y, in his readi-
ness to oblig«% to assist, and to relieve.
Imitate the mildness and gentleness of his
manners. I.jiitate the affabilitv and con-
descension which appeared in his behavi-
our. Imitate the uncorrupted simplicity
and purity which distinguished his whole
life.
These are much worthier and nobler
objects of your attention, than any of those
trifling- varieties which you can explore
and discover in the character of those a-
mong* whom you live. By lifting your
view to so high a standard, you will be pre-
served from descending to those futile and
corrupting em [)loy men ts of thought, which
occupy the idle, the vain, and the malig-
nant. It is incredible, how much time
and attention are thrown away by men, in
examining the affairs of others, and dis-
cussing their conduct. Were there time
and
156 On Curiosity concerning
SERM. and attention thrown away only, the evil
,^^^ would, in some degree, be less. But they
are worse than thrown away ; they are not
merely fruitless, but productive of much
mischief. Such a habit of thought is con-
nected with a thousand vices. It is the
constant source of rash and severe censure.
It arises from envy and jealousy. It fo-
ments ill nature and pride. It propagates
misunderstanding and discord. All those
evils would be prevented, if the reproof
which our Lord administers in the text
came oftenerhome, with proper authority
to the reflection of men ; What is that to
thee? Each of us have more material and
important business of our own to fulfil.
Our task is assigned ; our part allotted.
Did we suitably examine how that part
was performed, we should be less disposed
to busy ourselves about the concejns of
others. We should discover many a dis-
order to be corrected at home ; many a
weed to be pulled out from our own
grounds; much remaining to be done, in
order to render ourselves useful in this
world, and fit for a world to come. —
Wherefore,
the Affa irs of Others . 157
Wherefore, instead of being critics on sf.rm
others, let us employ our criticism on our- ^'*^*
selves. Leaving others to be judged by
Him who searcheth the heart, let us
implore his assistance for enabling us to
act well our own part, and to follow
Christ.
[ lo8 ]
SERMON IX.
On our Present Ignorance of the Ways
of God.
John, xiii. 7.
Jesus answered and said unto him, What
I do, thou knoivipfnot now, but thou shall
know hereafter.
SERM. I'^HESE words of our Lord were occa-
-3^ sioned by a circumstance in his be-
haviour which appeared mysterious to liis
disciples. When about to celebrate his
last passover, he meant to give them an
instructive lesson of condescension aiid hu-
mility. The njode which he chose for de-
livering this instruction, was the emble-
matical action of washing: their feet. Wht-n
Simon
On our Present Ignorance, SfC. 159
Simon Peter saw his Master addressing" serm
* liiiTiseir to the performance of so menial an
office, lie exclaims, with the greatest sur-
I)rise, JLord^ dost thou wash my feet ? Our
Lord replies, in the words of the text.
What 1 do, thou knowest not now, but thou
shalt know hereafter. JMy behaviour in
this instance may seem unaccountable
to you at present ; but you shall after-
wards receive a satisfactory earplanation
of the intent of that symbol which 1 now
employ.
The exj>ressions of a divine person, on
this occasion, can very naturally and pro-
perly be a|)plied to various instances, where
the conduct of Providence, in the adminis-
tration of human alf'airs, remains dark and
mysterious to us. What 1 do, thou know^
est not now . We must for a while be kept
in ignorance of the designs of Heaven.
But this ignorance, though necessary at
present, is not always to continue. A time
shall come when a commentary shall be
afforded on all that is now obscure; when
the veil of mystery shall be removed ; and
full satisfaction be given to every rational
miud. Thou shalt know hereafter. This
18
160 On our Present Ignorance
SERM. is the doctrine which 1 purpose to illus-
,^^ trate in the following discourse.
I. Our Saviour's words lead us to ob-
serve, that many things in the conduct of
Providence are at present mysterious and
unintelligible. The truth of this obser-
vation will not be called in question. It
is indeed very readily admitted by all ;
and ever since the beginnin^^ of the world
has been the foundation of many a com-
plaint, and of much scepticism concerning"
the government of Heaven.— -That human
affairs are not left to roll on according to
mere chance, and that Providence inter-
poses in them to a certain degree, is made
evident by various tokens to every candid
mind. But the perplexity and trouble of
the thoughtful inquirer arises from observ-
ing, that Providence appears not to pur-
sue any regular or consistent plan. An
unaccountable mixture of light and dark-
ness presents itself to us, when we attempt
to trace the affairs of the world up to any
wise and righteous administration. We
see justice and order begun ; but on many
occasions they seem to be deserted. The
ray
of the Ways of Others. 1 61
ray of light, which we have traced for a sbrm.
while, suddenly forsakes ns ; and where ^ *
we had looked for the continuance of or-
der, we meet with confusion and disap-
pointment. Forinstance, when we examine
the constitution of the human mind, we
discern evident marks of its being framed
with a view to favour and reward virtue.
Conscience is endowed with signal autho-
rity to check vice. It brings home unea-
siness and remorse to the bad ; and it
soothes and supports the righteous with
self-approbation and peace. The ordinary
course of human things is made to concide
in some degree with this constitution of
our nature. The worthy and the good are,
in general, honoured and esteemed He
that walketh uprightly is, for the most
part, found to vjalk surely. The chief
misfortunes that befal us in life can be
traced to some vices or follies which we have
committed ; and it almost never happens
but the sinner's own wickedness is jnade,
sooner or later, to reprove him, and his
hacksUdings to correct him.
All this carries the impress of a just
providence, of a wise and a benevolent
VOL. IV. M administration
10*2 On our present Ignorance
SEKM. administration of the universe. We can-
J^ not avoid perceiving that the Almighty
hath .9^/ his tkrone for judgment. Attlie
same uheu we f)nrsue our inquiries, the
Almighty appears to holdback the face of
his throne, and to spread his cloud upon
it. For in looking abroad into the world,
bow many scenes do we behold which are
far from corresponding with any ideas we
could form of the government of Heaven ?
Many nations of the earth we see lying in a
state ofbarbaiity and misery ; sunk in such
gross ignorance as degrades them below
the rank of rational beings ; or abandoned
to be the prey of cruel oppression and
tyranny. When we look to the state of
individuals around us, weheartlie lamen-
tations of the isnhappyon every hand. We
meet witii weeping pii rents and mourning"
friends. We behold the young cut off in
the tlower of their days, and the aged left
desolate in ihe midst of sorrows. The use-
ful and virtuous are swept away, and the
worthless left to flourish. The lives of the
best men are often filled with discourag-e-
mentsand disappointed hopes ; merit lan-
guishes in neglected solitude; and vanity
and
of the Ways of God. 163
and presumption ^aiu the admiration of skrm.
the world. From the scoar^^e of calumny,
and from the hand of violence, the injured
look up to God as the avenger of their
cause ; but often they look up in vain.
He is a God that hideth himself. He
dvvelleth, as to them, in the secret place of
darkness ; or, if he dwelleth in light, it is
in lio'ht to which no man can approach.
Resignation may seal up tlicir lips; but
in silence they drop the tear, and mourn
while they adore.
Such, it must not be dissembled, are the
difficulties which encounter us when we
attempt to trace the present ways of God.
At the same time, upon reflection, we may
be satisfied that causes can be assigned for
things appearing in this unfavourable light;
and that there is no reason to be surprised
at the divine conduct being mysterious at
present.
The monarchy of the universe is a great
and complicated system. It comprehends
numberless generations of men, who are
brought forth to act their parts for pur-
poses unknown to us. It includes two
M 2 worlds
IX.
}GX On our present l<^)iorance
worlds at once ; the world that now is, and
which is only a small portion of existence ;
and a world that is to come, which endures
for eternity. To us, no more than the
be<jjfinnings of things are visible. We see
only some broken parts of a great whole.
We trace but a few links of that chain of
being, which, by secret connections, binds
together the present and the future. Such
knowledge is ailbrded us as is sufticient
for supplying the exigencies and wants of
our present state; but it does no more-
Peeping abroad from a dark corner of the
universe, we attempt in vain to explore
the counsels that govern the world. It is
an attempt to sound an unfathomable deep
with a scanty line ; and with a feeble wing
to ascend above the stars. In any com-
plicated work, even of human art, it is
found necessary to be acquainted with the
design of the whole, in order to judge of
the fitness of its parts. In a scheme so
complex as the administration of the world,
where all the parts refer to one another,
and where what is seen is often subordinate
to what is invisible, how is it possible but
our judgments must be often erroneous,
and
of the Ways of God. 1 (j5
and our complaints ill founded? If a pea- shiim.
sant or a cottager he incapable of judging ^'
of the government of a mit>hly em|)ire, is
it snrprisinij: that we should be at a loss
concerning' the conduct of the Almighty
towards his creatures? What I do thou
knowest not now.
But, on this argument still more can be
said for our satisfaction. We are to ob-
serve, that complete iniorination respecting
the ways of God, not only was not to be
expected here; but, moreover, thatit would
have been hurtful, if granted to us in our
present state. It would have proved in-
consistent with that state ; with the actions
which we have to perform in it, and the
duties we have to fultil. It would indeed
have overthrown the whole design of our
being placed in this world. We are plac-
ed here under the trial of our virtue.
Ignorance of the events that are ordained
to befal us, ignorance of the [)lans and
decrees of Heaven, enternecessarily into a
Slate of trial, in order to exercise both
onr intellectual and moral powers, and to
carry them forward to improvement, we
M 3 must
1G6 On our present Ignorance
SEiiM must be left to find our way in the midst
^^' of difficulties and doubts, of hard liips and
sutlr'erings. We uiust be tauj>lit to a< t our
parts with constancy, th«)u^h the reward
of our constancy be di-tant. VV^e must
leain to bear with patience whatever our
Creator judges proi>er to lay upon us,
though we see not the reason of the hard--
ships he inflicts. If we were let into the
secret of the whole plan of Providence ; if
the justice of Heaven were, in every step of
its procedure, made manifest to our view,
man would no loni;er be the creature he
now is, nor would his present state answer
any purpose of disci [)le or trial.
Mystery and darkness, therefore, n ust
of necessity now take place in the course
of things. Onr present state can be no
other than a state of twilight or dawn,
where dubious forms shall often present
themselves to us, and where we shall find
ourselves in a middle condition, between
complete light and total darkness. Had
we enjoyed no evidence of a just Judge
ruling the earth, and of his providence in-
terposing in our affairs, virtue would have
been altogether deprived of its encourage-
ment
of the Ways of God. 167
nient and support. Had tlie evidence, on serm,
theotlu^r hand, been so stronsf as to place *^"
the hand ofthe Alniiu^hty constantly before
our eyes t!ie intention of onr present ex-
istence would l»ave l)een defeated, and no
trial of virtue have re nained. Instead,
therei'ore, of conij)lainin Ji* of tlie obscurity
whicii at present covers the cwuiduct of
Providence, we see that, on the whole, we
have reason to submit and adore.
ir. The text sug-prests that, thoui»h what
God is doiiig, or what he intends to do,
we know not now, yet there is ground
to believe, that at some future period
we shall receive information. What 1
do, thou knowest not now, hut thou shalt
know hereafter. Tlie question here arises,
what that hereafter is, to which we are
to look for the solution of our present
doubts?
In the first place, hereafter may, on some
occasions, refer to the subsequent course
of events in this world. It often happens
that the consequences of things throw
light on the designs of God I The history
M4 of
168 On our Present Ignorance
SERM of Providence, in proportion as it advances,
^^^ disembroils itself. Though our present
condition forbids extensive and complete
information, yet as much is sometimes
allowed to appear as gives us favourable
openings into the righteous and benevolent
counsels of Heaven. Thus, in the public
affairs of the world, it has been frequently
seen, that from the most unpromising
causes important and beneficent effects
have, in the sequel, arisen. In our own
country, atone period, the violent [)assions
of a prince gave beginning to the Refbima-
tion ! At another period, arbitrary attempts
against religion and liberty, occasioned
that happy Revolution which has formed
the aera of national prosperity. In many
instances, the wrath of man has been made
to praise God. Those wars and commo-
tions that shake the moral world have an-
swered similar purposes with tempests in
the natural world, of purging the air from
noxious vapours, and restoring it to a tem-
perature more sound and wholesome. From
the midst of confusion, order has been
made to spring ; and from temporary mis-
chief, lasting advantages to arise. In all
cases
the Ways of God. 169
cases of this nature, with which sacred and serm.
civil history abounds, secret desicrns of ^^'
Heaven u ere going on, w hich were unfold-
ed in tl)e end. Tlie wheel was always in
motion. The hand of the chick was ad-
vancing with un perceived i>rogress, till
the moment came of its striking the ap-
pointed hour.
In like manner, with re«pert to indivi-
duals, there is often a hereafter in the
course of their lives, whicii disch^ses and
justifies the ways of God. Not to mention
the good ettects which misfortunes are
found to produce on the minds of men, by
checking their vices and correcting their
errors, innumerable exemplifications can be
given, of misfortunes paving their way to fu-
ture advancement in the world. We are al-
ways querulous and uw patient when designs
succeed not according to our wish. Igno-
rant of what futurity is to bring forward,
occupied with nothing but the present, we
exclaim, Where is God 1 Where the scej)-
fre of righteousness? Hath he forgotten
to be gracious'? or doth he indeed see, and
is there knowledge in the Most High }
God seeth not as man seeth : He looketh
not
170 On our present J'^norance
SERM. not merely to what yon suffer, but to what
.^^^ the effect of these suiierins^is to be. Con-
sider onl> in how ditiereut a light the
patriarch Joseph would view tiie events ot
his life after he had seen in what thev haa
terminated, from the lig:htin vvliich he saw
them, when led away by the Ishniaelites
as a slave, or when throv\n by Potiphar
into the Egyptian prison. We murmiu'
against Providence, just as the impetuous
youth frets against his instructors and tutors,
who are keeping him under a strict, and, as
he thinks, a needless, discipline. He knows
not that, by tiieirinstnsclion and discipline,
they are laying" the foundation of his luture
fortunes; of the wealth which he is to ac-
quire, and of the advancement to which he
is to rise iji the world. What may justly
be said to iiim by his tutors and instructors,
is equally applicable to us all under oar
present state of ed ideation ; What 1 do,
thou knoivest not now, but thou shalt know
hereafter. Regardiiig, then, the unknown
issue of all worldly events in this life, let
us never despair ; let us never think dis-
honourably of the government of God ;
but have patience till his Providence ac-
complish
of the Ways of God, ! 7 1
coiTi]»lish itsHesions in itsown way, and at serm
its own time. Although thou say est thou ^'
shalt not sec hitii, yet jud^-ment is before
him ; therefore trust thou in him.
In the second place, The expression of
hereafter in the text, must be understood
to reftrr, in its full extent, not to future
events in this life, but to a subsequent
state of being. For this life is no more
than the beginning of the mighty and
extensive plans of Providence. The seeds
are only now sown, of what is to ripen and
come forth, at the harvest of the world,
when the revolution of the great moral
year shall be finished, and the government
of God shall obtain its full completion. It
is the chiet scope of religion to direct our
view to this period ; and it hath often
taught us that the knowledge of the ways
of God, then enjoyed by the blessed, shall
constitute a chief article of their felicity.
Now we see through a <^iass darhly; but
then face to face. Now ive know in part ;
but then we shall know even as we are
known. When that which is perfect is
come, then that which is in part shall be
done
172 Oti our present Ignorance
SERM. done away. In God's light we shall see
v.,.^ light. — The reasons that required obscu-
rity to remain for a while on the ways of
God no longer subsist. The education of
good men is completed ; and the intention
of those steps of education, which once
they could not comprehend, now becomes
a|>parent. — Why this man was prematurely
carried away from the world in the begin-
ning of a promising conr.se ; why that de-
serving family were left overwhelmed with
grief and despair, by the loss of one who
was their sole benefactor and support ;
why friendships, cemented by tender ties,
were suddenly torn asunder by death; these
are inquiries to which we can now make
no reply ; and which throw a dark gloom
over the conduct of the Almighty. But
the spirits of the just above, who are ad-
mitted to a larger view of the ways of God,
see the reasons of such counsels They
see that one man was seasonably taken
awayfrom dangers and evilsto come, which,
unknown to him, were hovering over his
head. They see that Providence was in
secret preparing unexpected blessings for
the family, who appeared to be left discon-
solate
of the Ways of God. 17ii
solate and lioneless. They see that it was sfjim.
time for frieiidsliips to be dissolved, when
their h)nger continuance would, to some
of the parties, have proved a snare. Where
we behold nothing- but the rod of power
stretched forth, tliey discern an interposition
of the hand of mercy.
Let us wait till this promised hereafter
arrive, and we shall, in like manner, be
satistied concerning the events that now
disturb and perplex us. We shall then
know why so much darkness and misery
have been so long permitted to remain ou
the earth, and so much oppression and
tyranny to prevail among the nations. We
shall see, rising as from the ashes of the old
world, a new and beautiful structure ; new
heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth
righteousness. As wide as is t he difference
between the appearance of the world, when
it lay in its primitive chaos, without f of m
and void, and the appearance it has now
assumed, when resplendent with the light
of the sun, and decked with the beauties of
nature ; such is the difference between the
divine plans in their beginnings, and in
their full completion. At the conclusion,
and
174 On our present Ignorance
SERM. and not till then, the glory of the Lord
i^" shall become manifest to all ; and as it is
described in the book of the Revelation, a
voice shall be heard from every creature
ivhich is in heaven and on the earth, and
under the earth, saying, lilessing^ and ho-
nour, and power, and glory be to him that
sitteth on the throne. Great and marvel-
lous are thy works. Lord God Almighty ;
just and true are thy ways, thou King of
saints.
Application of the doctrines that have
been illustrated may be made to two classes
of men.
First, To sceptics ; who, from the pre-
sent mysterious conduct of Providence,
hastily draw the conclusion, that no go-
vernment is exercised over human affairs,
but that all things are suffered indiscrimi-
nately to come alike to all men. — I have
shown that, from the inadequate views
which we are at present able to take of the
general system, such mysterious appear-
ances of Providence must be expected to
take place. Not only so, but I have also
shown it to be fit and necessary that this
mixture
of the Ways of God. Mi)
mixture of obscurity should now remain; shii.Nf.
IX.
as a full disi)lay of regular justice and or-
der would be inconsistent with the moral
improvement of men in this life.— Let me
desire the sceptic to look to the state of the
natural \>orld. When he thinks of the
order and magnificence that prevail in it,
he will, perhaps, be unvvillin*^ to pronounce
it the mere production of chance. He
cannot but recognise the hand of intelli-
gence, and acknowledge it to have pro-
Cf^ded from a designing cause. I ask him,
Whether in the natural world he discerns
not as many mysterious and puzzlin§r ap-
pearances as are to be found in the moral
world? Ave not destructive storms, burn-
ing mountains, uninhabitable deserts, as
difticultto be reconciled tohispre-conceited
ideas of supreme wi^^dom and goodness in
the Creator, as the sufferings and afflictions,
which in the course of Providence, befal
the just? The natural and moral world
are, in this respect, counterparts to one
another. Both are marked with the same
characters, and carry the impress of the
same powerful and gracious hand. In
both, it is evidently the intention of the
first
176 On our present Ignorance
SERM. first Author not to render every thing
J^^ level to our capacity ; but, in the midst
of high design and order, to allovv^ certain
objects to appear, which contradict the
ideas we had formed, and mock our vain
researches. Now, if we are obliged to
admit that the order and beauty of the
natural world sufficiently prove it to be
the work of a wise Creator, notwith-
standing the seeming deformities which
it exhibits ; are we not led, by the same
train of reasoning, to conclude, that the
moral world is under the direction of
a wise Governor, though much of what
he now does we cannot satisfactorily ex-
plain.
t
Secondly, The doctrine of the text is
to be applied, not only for silencing scep-
tics, but for comforting the pious. Never
let them be dejected by the darkness
which now covers the ways of the Al-
mighty. If he withdraw himself from
their view, it is not because he neglects
them ; but because they are incapable of
comprehending his designs ; because it
were not for their good that all his designs
were
of the Ways of God. 177
were revealed to them. — Instead of per-sERM,
plexiiiy: tlieii.selves about what is obscure, ^^
let them rest on the clear and authentic
discoveries that have been given of the
divine goodness. Let them rest on those
great and signal facts that prove it; parti-
cularly on that illustrious fact, the re-
demption of the world by Jesus Christ.
He that spared not his own Son, but gave
him up for us all, w ill assuredly not al-
ways conceal himself from those who serve
him. Though what he does they know
not now, the time approaches when they
shall know hereafter. Till that time
come, let them believe and trust ; let
them hope and adore. From this conclu-
sion let them never depart, that to fear
God and keep his commandments is in
every situation the truest wisdom ; that if
there be government in the universe at all,
the virtuous and the worthy are loved and
protected by Heaven ; that in due season
they shall reap, if they faint not : for the
care of them is with the Lord, and their
reward with the Most High.
VOL. IV. N
[ 178 ]
SERMON X
On the Slavery of Vice.
2 Peter, ii. 19.
While they promise ihcm libcrtt/, iheif
themselves are the servants ofeorr'nption ;
for of whom a man is overcome, of the
same is he brought in bondage.
sERM. jljO^DAGE and subjection are disa-
JUl greeable sounds to tlie ear, disa-
g^reeable ideas to the mind. The advocates
of vice, taking advantage of those natural
impressions, have in every age eni ployed
them for discrediting religion. They re-
present it as the bondage and confinement
of the free-born soul of man ; as a state of
perpetual constraint, formed by a system
of
^^v^
Ofi the Slavery of Vice. 1 79
of severe rules, which designing- men have serm.
contrived to impose as fetters on the niiil- ^*
titude. On the other hand, they paint a
licentious course to themselves, and hold
it out to the world as the gay and ph-asur-
able enjoyment of life ; where, having
surmounted the prejudices of education,
and the timorous scruples of conscience,
men can think and act at pleasure, and
give full scope to every wish of the beart.
But what if those pretended sons of free-
dom be themselves held in miserable sub-
jection, and their boasts of liberty bene
more tl»an the swelling' words of vanity?
The Apostle asserts in the text tliat, while
they promise liberty, to others, they are the
servants, or slaves oi corruption, overcome
and brought into bondage by it. This
assertion of the Apostle I purpose to illus-
trate. I shall endeavour to n ake it appear,
that no true liberty can arise from vice ;
that bad men undergo the worst servitude;
and that no one is free, but he who is virtu-
ous and good.
It is necessary to begin with removing
false ideas of liberty, and showing in what
it
1 80 On the Slavery of Vice.
SERM. it truly consists! We are not to imagine,
sj^l. that to be free imports our being set loose
from restraint or rule of every kind. No
man, in any condition of life, is at liberty
to act always as he pleases, and to gratify
every wish he forms. The nature of the
human state necessarily imposes on all men
various restraints. The laws of society
allow no one to indulge himself in pursuits
or pleasures that are injurious to his neigh-
bour. Even our own nature limits our
pleasures within certain bounds. All our
desires cannot be gratified together. They
frequently interfere, and require him who
would indulge one favourite passion, to
deny himself in another. Distinctions,
therefore, must be made, preferences be
given, and some general regulation of con-
duct be observed, by every one who con-
sults his own welfare. If there be any
regulation which ensures us of safety and
happiness, to be disengaged from the
observance of that regulation is no article
of liberty ; at least of such liberty as a wise
man ^vould wish to enjoy. It is in effect
to be turned loose to our own ruin. It is
such a liberty as a blind man enjoys, of
wandering
On the Slavery of Vice. 181
wanderins; at random, and striking into serm.
every devious path, without a guide to
direct his steps, and save him from de-
struction.
That unbounded licentiousness^ there-
fore, which sinners [)refer to every regula-
tion of conduct, is altogether different from
true freedom. It is in moral behaviour
the same as anarchy is in a state, where
law and order are extinct Anarchy, surely,
is no less incompatible with true liberty,
thaii absolute despotism ; and of the two it
is hard to say which is the least eligible,
or the most miserable state. Liberty by
no means su])poses the absence of all go-
vernment. It only supposes that the
government under \> hich we are placed is
wise ; and that the restraints to which we
voluntarily submit ourselves have been
contrived for the general interest.
To be free, therefore, imports, in general,
oui' being placed in such circumstances,
that, within the bounds of justice and good
order, we can act according to our own
deliberate choice, and take such measures
for our conduct, as we have reason to be-
lieve are conductive to our we fare ; with-
out
182 On the Slavery of Vice.
SERM. out being obstructed either by external
^^^ force, or by violent internal impulse. This
IS that happy and dignified state which
every ^\ise man earnestly wishes to enjoy.
The advantages which result from it are
chiefly tliese tliree: freedom of choice;
independence of js^ind ; boldness and se-
curity. In opposition to these distinguish^
ing characters of liberty, I now proceed to
show that, in the first place, vice deprives
bad men of free choice in their actions ;
that, in the second place, it brings them
under a slavish dependence on external
circumstances ; and that, in the third
place, it reduces them to that abject, cow-
ardly, and disquieted state which is essen-
tially characteristic of bondage.
I. Vice is inconsistent with liberty, as it
deprivessinnersof the power of free choice,
by bringing thenj under the dominion of
passions and habits. Religion an<l virtue
address themselves to reason. They call
us to look round on every side; to think
well of the consequences of our actions ;
and, before we take any step of import-
ance, to compare the good with the evil
that
On the Slavery of Vice. 183
that may ensue from it. He, therefore, sf.rm.
X.
wlio follows their dictates, acts the part of
a mail who treely consults, and chooses,
for his own interest. But vice can make
no pretensions of this kind. It awaits not
thetestofdeliberatecomparison and choice,
but overpowers us at once by some striking
imj)ressi(>n of present advantage or enjoy-
ment. It hurries us with the violence of
jiassion ; captivates us by the allurements
of pleasure ; or dazzles us by the glare of
riches. The sinner yields to the impulse,
merely because he cannot resist it. Reason
remonstrates ; conscience endeavours to
check him ; but all in vain. Having once
allowed some strong passion to gain the
ascendant, he has thrown himself into the
middle of a torrent, against which he may
sometimes faintly struggle, but the impe-
tuosity of the steam bears him along. In
this situation he is so far from being free,
that he is not master of himself He does
not go, but is driven, tossed, agitated, and
impelled ; passive, like a ship, to the vio-
lence of the waves.
After passion has for a while exercised
its tyrannical sway, its vehemence may by
degrees
X.
184 iPn I he Slavery of Vice.
SERM degrees siiLside But when, by lonp: indul-
gence, it has established liabits of gratifica-
tion, the sinner's bondage becomes then
more confirmed, and more miserable. For
during' the heat of pursuit he is little
capable of reflection. But when his ardour
is abated, and nevertheless, a vicious habit
rooted, he has full leisure to perceive the
lieavy yoke he has brought upon himself.
How many slaves do we see in the world
to intemperance, and all kinds of criminal
l>leasure, merely through the influence ot
customs which they had allowed to become
so inveterate that it was not in their power
to alter them ? A re they not often reduced
to a condition so wretched, that when
their licentious pleasures have become ut-
terly insipid, they are still forced to con
tinue them, solely because they cannot
refrain; not because the indulgence gives
them pleasure, but because abstinence
would give them pain ; and this too, even
when they are obliged at last to condemn
their habits of life, as injuring their for-
tune, impairing their constitution, or dis-
gracing their character? Vice is not of
such a nature, that we can say to it,
Hith-ti'to
On the Slaver// of Vice. iPfj
Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther, srijm.
Haviui? once entered into its territories, it ",
is not in our power to nmke a retreat ulieia
we please. He that committeth sin is the
servant of sin. No man, who Las once
yielded up the government of bis mind,
and given loose rein to hi^ «»e«ires and
passions, can tell how far these may carry
linn. He may be brought into such a
desperate state, tiiat nothing shall remaia
for hi in bnt to look back with regret upon
the forsaken path of innocence and liberty ;
and, severely conscious of the thraldom he
sufTers, to groan under fetters which he
despairs of throwing off. Can the Ethio-
pian change his skin, or the leopard his
spots ? Then may ye also do good who are
accustomed to do evil.
Vice confirms its dominion, and extends
it still farther over the soul, by compelling
the sinner to support one crime by means
of another. Not only is he enslaved to
those vices which take their rise froin his
own inclination, but they render others
necessary, to which, againsthis inclination,
he must submit ; and thereby strengthen
the commanding power of iniquity within
him.
186 On the Slavery of Vice.
SFJiw. him. The immoderate love of pleasure,
,^^ i'oY instance, leads him into expence be-
yond his fortune. In order to support that
expence, he is obliged to have recourse to
low and dishonourable methods of i>ain,
which originally he des{)ised. To cover
these, he is forced upon arts of dissimula-
tion and fraud- One instance of fraud
obliges him to support it by another ; till,
in the end, there arises a character of
complicated vice; of luxury shooting forth
into baseness, dishonesty, injustice, and
perhaps cruelty. It is thus that one fa-
vourite passion brings in a tribe of auxili-
aries to complete the dominion of sin.
Among all our corrupt passions there is a
strong and intimate connection. When
any one of them is adopted into our family,
it never quits us until it has fathered upon
us all its kindred. — By such nieaus as
these, by the violence of passions, by the
power of habits, and by the connection of
one vice with another, sin establishes that
servitude over the will, which deprives bad
men of all power of free choice in their
actions.
On the Slavery of Vice.
II. The slavery produced by vice ap- serm.
pears in the dependence under which it ^^^
briuu's tlie sinner to circumstances of ex-
ternal fortune. One of the lavourite clia-
racters of liberty i>, the independence it
bestows. He uho is trnly a free man is
above all servile compliances; and abject
subjection. He is able to rest upon him-
self; and \\hile he regards his superiors
wiih proper deference, neither debases
himself by cringing to them, nor is tempted
to purchase their favour by dishonourable
means. But the sinner has forfeited every
privilege of this nature. His passioiis and
habits render him an absolute dependent
on the world, and the world's favour; on
the uncertain goods of fortune, and the
fickle humours of men. For it is by these
he subsists, and among these his happiness
is sought ; according as his passions deter-
mine him to pursue pleasure, riches, or
preferments. Having no fund within him-
self whence to draw enjoyment, his only
resource is in things without. His hopes
and fears all hang upon the world. He
partakes in all its vicissitudes ; and is
movedand shaken by every wind of fortune.
This
188 On the Slavery of Vice}
SERM. This is to be in the strictest sense a slave to
J^-^ the world.
Religion and virtue, on the other hand,
confer on the mind principles of noble
independence. The upright man is satis-
fied from himself He despises not the
advantages of fortune ; but he centres not
his happiness in them. With a ij-oderate
share of them he can be contented ; and
contentment is felicity. Happy in his own
integrity, conscious of the esteem of good
men, reposing firm trust in the providence
and promises of God, he is exempted from
servile dependence on other tilings. He
can wrap himself up in a good conscience, .
and look forward, without terror, to the
change of the world. Let all things shift
around him as they please, he believes that,
by the divine ordination, they shall be
made to ivork together in the issue /or his
good: And therefore, having much to hope
from God, and little to fear from the world,
he can be easy in every state. One who
possesses within himself such an establish-
ment of mind, is truly free.— But shall I
call that man free, who has nothing that
is
On the Slaven/ of Vice. 1 89
is liis own, nor jiroperly assured ; whose serm,
very heart is not his own, but rendered tlie
appendage of external things, and the
sport of fortune ? Is that man free, Jet his
out',\ard condition be ever so splendid.,
wljoni his imperious passions detain at their
call, whoiii they send forth attlieir pleasure
to drudge and toil, and to beg his only
enjoyr.'.entfrom the casualties of the world?
Is he free, who must flatter and lie to com-
pass his ends ; who must bear with this
man^s caprice, and that man's scorn ; must
profess friendship where he hates, and re-
spect where he contemns ; who is not at
liberty to appear in his own colours, not
to speak his own sentiments ; who dares
not be honest, lest he should be poor? —
Believe it, no chains bind so hard, no
fetters are so heavy, as those which fasten
the corrupted heart to this treacherous
world ; no dependence is more contempti-
ble than that under which the voluptu-
ous, the covetous, or the ambituous man
lies to the means of pleasure, gain, or
power. Yet this is the boasted liberty,
which vice promises as a recompence of
setting
190 On the Slavery of Vice.
SERM. setting us free from the salutary restraints
,J^ of virtue.
Til. Another character of the slavery
of vice is, that mean, cowardly, and dis-
quieted state to which it reduces the sinner.
Boldness and magnanimity have ever been
accounted the native etfects of liberty. He
who enjoys it, having nothing to appreliend
from oppressive power, performs the offices,
ard enjoys the comforts of life, with a
manly and undisturbed mind. Hence his
behaviour is dignified, and his sentiments
are honourable ; while he who is accus-
tomed to bend under servile subjection,
has always been found mean-spirited, ti-
morous, and base.— Compare, in these
respects, the virtuous and the vicious man,
and you will easily see to which of them
the characteristics of freedom most justly
belong. The man of virtue, relying on a
good conscience and the protection of Hea-
ven, acts with firmness and courage; and,
in the discharge of his duty, fears not the
face of man. The man of vice, conscious
of his low and corrupt aims, shrinks before
the stedfast and piercing eye of integrity ;
IS
On the Slave?'// of Vice. 191
18 ever looking around him with anxious si ri\i.
and fearful circumspection, and thinking ,^^J^
of subterfuges, by vvljich he may escape
from danger. The one is bold as a lion ;
the other /lieth n hen no man pursueth. To
the one nothing appears contemptible, by
which he can procure any present advan-
tage. The other looks with disdain on
\Ahatever would degrade his character. 1
will not, says lie, so demean myself as to
catch the favour of the greatest man, by
this or that low art. It shall not be said
or thought of me, that 1 did what was base
in order to make my fortune. Let others
stoop so low. who cannot be without the
favours of the world. But I can want
them, and therefore at such a price I will
not purchase them. This is the voice of
true liberty ; and speaks that greatness of
mind which it is formed to inspire.
Corresponding to that abject disposition
which characterises a bad man, are the
fears that haunt him. The terrors of a
slave. dwell on his mind, and often appear
in his behaviour. For guilt is never free
from suspicion and alarm. The sinner is
afraid, sometimes, of the partners of his
crimes
192 On the Slavery of Vice.
SERM crimes, lest tliey betray him; sometimes,
^J^ of those who have suifered by his crimes,
lest they revenge themselves ; frequently,
of the world around him, lest it detect him ;
and what is worst of all, lie is reduced to be
afraid of himself There is a witness with-
in him that testifies against his misdeeds,
and threatens him in secret, when other
alarms leave him. Conscience holds up
to bis view the image of his past crimes,
with this inscription engraved upon it,
God ivill bring' evert/ work into judgment.
JHovv opposite is such a state as this to the
peaceful security arising from the liberty
enjoyed by the virtuous? Were there noth-
ing more in the circumstances of sinners
to affix upon them the marks of servitude,
this alone would be sufliicient, that, as the
Scripture expresses it, through fear of
death they are all their lifetime subject to
bondage. Death sets all other captives
free. The slave who digs in the n:iiie, or
labours at the oar, can rejoice at the pros-
pect of laying down his burden together
with his life ; and tastes the hopes of being
at last on equal terms with his cruel op-
pressor. But to the slave of guilt there
arises
On tJie Slaver 1/ of Vice. 193
arises no hope from death. On the con- serm.
trary, he is obliged to look forward with J^;^
constant terror to this most certain of all
events, as tlie conclusion of all his hopes,
and the coiiiniencement of his greatest
miseries.
I HAVE thus set before you such clear and
unequivocal marks of the servitude under-
gone by sinners, as fully verify the assertion
in the text, that a state of vice and corrup-
tion is a state of bondage. In order to
perceive how severe a bondage it is, let us
attend to some peculiar circumstances of
aggravation which belong to it.
First, Tt is a bondage to which the mind
itself, the native seat of libet'ty, is subject-
ed. In other cases, a brave man * can
comfort himself with reflecting that, let
tyrants do their worst, let prisons or fetters
be his lot, his mind remains unconquered
and free. Of this liberty they cannot rob
him ; here he moves in a higher sphere,
above the reach of oppression or confine-
ment. But what avails the show of exter-
nal liberty, to one who has lost the govern-
▼OL. IV. O ment
194 On the Slavery of Vice.
SERM. ment of himself ? As our Siivioiir reasons
in another case. If the light that is in thee
be darkness, how great is that darkness?
So we may reason here, if that part of thy
nature, thy mind, thy will, by which only
thou canst enjoy and relish liberty, be itself
in bondage to evil passions and habits, how
miserable must be that bondage?
Next, it is aggravated by this considera-
tion, that it is a bondage whicij we have
brought upon ourselves. I'o have been
forced intoslavery is misfortune and misery.
But to have renounced our liberty and
chosen to be slaves, is the greatest reproach
added to the greatest misery. Moments
there frequently must be, when a sinner is
sensible of the degradation of his state ;
when he feels with pain the slavish depen-
dence under which he is brought to fortune
and the world, to violent passions and set-
tJed habits, and to fears and apprehensions
arising from couscious guilt. In such mo-
ments, how cruel is the reflection, that of
all this disgrace and misery he has been
the author to himself; that by voluntary
compliance, he has given to his passions
that
On the Slavery of Vice. 195
that haughty ascendant which they now sbrm.
exercise over him ; has tort'ed the chains ^^^
with which he is bound, and sold himself
to do iniquity ?
Lastly, The servitude of vice is accom-
panied with this farther aggravation, that
it is subjection to our own servants. Those
desires and passions, which the sinner has
raised to lawless rule, were given us as in-
struments of self preservation ; but were
plainly designed to be under the direction
of a higher power. Of theisiselves, they
are headstrong and blind ; they bear all the
marks of intended subordination ; and con-
science is invested with every ensign of au-
thority and supremacy. But sin inverts the
whole frame of human nature. It compels
reason to bow down before those passions
which it was formed to command; and
leads it, as it were, in triumph, to grace the ,
shameful conquest of its ministers and
servants. It has been always observed,
that none are so insolent in power as they
who have usurped an autiiority to which
they had no right; and so it is found to
hold in this instance. The desires and
O 2 obtained
106 On the Slavery of Vice
SEfiM. passions of a vicious man having once
^ obtained an unlimited sway, trampled him
under their feet. They make him feel that
he is subject to divers, and contradictory
as well as imperious masters, who often
pull him different ways. His soul is ren-
dered the receptacle of many repugnant
and jarring dispositions ; and resembles
some barbarous country, cantoned out into
different principalities, who are continually
waging war on one another. Such is the
state into which sinners have brought them-
selves in order to be free from the supposed
confinement of virtue. Where they had
promised themselves nothing but ease and
pleasure, they are made to experience re-
straints more severe, and mortifications
more painful, than any which they would
have undergone under the discipline of
religion.
It will perhaps be contended by some,
that although the representation whi'^^h has
now been given of the slavery of sin holds
true in a certain instance, yet that it is
applicable only to those who come undei
the description of atrocious sinners. They
ima£;"ine
On the Slavery o/ Vice. \i)l
imaiiiiie \h\\t ;i certain moderate course serm.
may he held in vice, hy means of which, J^;^
Jiien, without throvvinu, altogether aside the
restraints of reason, n»ay enjoy an easy and
pleas5ireal)le life- By reasoning' thns, my
friends, you flatter and deceive yourselves
to your own destruction. Be as«jured, that
by every vicious indulgence you are mak-
ing an ai)[)roach to a state of c«niii)lete
slavery ; you are forfeiting' a certain share
of your liberty ; how soon the whole of it
may be forfeited, you are not aware. It is
true, that all whic'i has now been said of
the servitude of sin, applies only to a cha-
racter corrupted in the extreme. But re-
member, that to this extreme no man ever
arrives at once. He passes through many
ofthoseinteniiediatestageSj in one of which
you are now perhaps found. V ce always
creeps by degrees; and insensibly twines
around us those concealed fetters by which
we are at last completely bound. As yo^
value therefore your liberty and your hap
piness, avoid every ap[)roach to evil. Con-
sider all vicious pleasures as enchanted
ground, by entering on which, you will be
farther and farther ensnared within the
O 3 magic
198 On the Slavery of Vice,
SERM. magic circle, till at length you are preclud-
^^^ ed from all retreat. The most pure and
virtuous man is always the freest. The
religion of Christ is justly entitled the per-
fect law of liberty. Tt is only when the
Son makes us free, that we are free indeed:
and it was with reason the Psahnist said.
It will walk at liberty, for I seek thy
precepts.
I 199 J
S E K M O iN XI.
On the Importance of Public W or-
SHIP.
Psalm, xvi. 8.
Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy
house, and the place iv here thine honour
dwelleth.
GOD is a Spirit^ and they that worship serm.
him, must worship him in spirit and x^-
in truth. Tliat religion chiefly consists iu
an inward principle of goodness, is beyond
dispute, and that its value and efficacy are
derived from its effects in purifying the
heart, and reforming the life. All exter-
nal services, which have uot this tendency,
are entirely insignificant. They degener-
O 4 ^te
200 On (he Importance
SERM. ate into isiere superstition, equally unac-
J^ ce])table to God, and unprofitable to man.
Hence they are so often treate»i in Scrip-
ture, with high conterupt, when substituted
in the room of the important duties of a
virtuous life.
Notwithstanding this, it is certain that
external services have their own place, and
a considerable one too, in the system of
religion. T\ hat their proper place is, no
one can be at a loss to discern, who will
only make a just distinction between the
means, and the end in religion. It is evi-
dent there is danger in man's erring here,
either on one side or other; and it is cer-
tain that they have erred on both. After
it was observed, that mankind were prone
to lay too much weight on the external
})arts of religion, it began to be thought
that no weight was to be allowed to them
at all. The time was, v\hen all religion
centered in attending the duties of the
church, and paying veneration to what-
^er was accoupted sacred. This alone
sanctified the character, and compensated
every blemish in moral conduct. From
this extreme, the spirit of the age seems to
be
of Public Worship. 201
be riinrmiff fast into the opposite extreme, serm
of holding every thing light tliat belongs ^^
to public worship. But if superstition be
an evil ; and a very great one it undoubtedly
is, irreligion is not a smaller evil : And
though the form of <>odlln€SS may often
remain wheu the power of it is wanting;
yet the power cannot well subsist where
the form ie altogether gone. The holy
Psalmist, whose words are now before us,
discovers much better principles. Expres-
sing always the highest regard for the laws
of God, and the precepts o virtue, he
breathes at the same time a spirit o: true
devotion. Though loaded with the cares
of royalty, and encircled with the splendor
of a court, he thought it well became him
to show respect to the great Lord of na-
ture ; and on many occasions expresses,
as he does iu the text, his delight m the
public service of the temple. Lord, 1 have
loved the habitation of thy house, and the
place where thine honour dwelleth. In
discoursing from which words, I purpose
to show the importance of the public wor-
ship of God, and the benefits resulting
from it. I shall consider it in three lights ;
202 On the Importance
SERM as it respects God; as it respects the world ;
XI. '
■ as it respects ourselves.
I. Let us consider it with respect to
God. If there exist a Supreme Being, the
Creatorofthe world, no consequence appears
more natural and direct than this, that he
ought to l)e worshipped by his creatures,
with every outward expression of submis-
sion and honour. VYe need only appeal
to every man's heart, whether this be not-a
principle which carries along with it its
own obligation, that to Him, who is the
Fountain of our life, and the Father of our
mercies; to Him who has raised up that
beautiful structure of the universe in which
we dwell, and where we are surrounded
with so many blessings and comforts ;
solemn acknowledgments of gratitude
should be made, praises and prayers should
be offered, and all suitable marks of de-
pendence on him be expressed. This
obligation extends beyond the silent and
secret sentiments of our hearts. Besides
private devotion, it naturally leads to as-
sociations for public worship ; to open and
declared professions of respect for the Deity.
Where
of Public Worship. 203
Where blessing's are received in common, sfrm.
XI.
an obligation lies unou tlie com in unity,
jointly to acknowledge them. Sincere
gratitude is always ol'an open and ditfnsive
nature. It loves to pour itself forth; to
give tree vent to its emotions ; and, before
the world, to acknowledge and honour a
Benefactor.
So consonant is this to the natural senti-
ments of mankind, that all the nations of
the earth have, as with one consent, agreed
to institute some forms of worship ; to hold
meetings at certain times, in honour of their
deities. Survey the societies of men in
their rudest state ; explore the African de-
serts, the wilds of America, or the distant
islands of the ocean ; and you will find that
over all the earth some religious ceremo-
nies have obtained. You will everywhere
trace, in one form or other, the temple, the
priest, and the offering. The prevalence
of the most absurd superstitions furnishes
this testimony to the truth, that in the
hearts of all men the princii)le is engraved,
of worship being due to that invisible
Power who rules the v*orld. Herein con-
sists the great excellency of the Christian
religion.
204 Oi/ the Importance
SERM religion, that it hath instructed us in the
^^' simple and spiritual nature of that worship.
Disencumbered of idle and unmeaning'
ceremonies, its ritual is pure, and worthy
of a divine Autlior. Its positive institu-
tions are few in number, most significant
of spiritual things, and directly conductive
to good life and j)ractice. How inexcu-
sable then are we, if, placed in such happy
circumstances, the sense of those obligations
to the public worship of God shall be ob-
literated among us, which the light of nature,
inculcated, in some measure, on the most
wild and barbarous nations.
The refinements of false philosophy
have indeed suggested this shadow of ob-
iection, that God is too great to stand in
need of any external service from his crea-
tures ; that our expressions of praise and
lionour are misplaced with respect to Him,
who is above all honour and all praise ;
that in his sigiit, the homage we seek to
pay suust appear contemptible ; and is
therefore in itself superfluous and trifling.
But who hath taught those vain reasoners,
that all expressions of gratitude and honour
towards
of Public Worship. 205
towards a superior become unsuitable, serm.
merely because that superior needs not ^|^
any returns? Were they ever indebted to
one whose favours they liad it not in their
power to repay ; and did they, on that
account, feel tliemselves set loose from
every obligation to acknowledge, and to
praise their benefactor ? On the contrary,
the more disinterested his beneficence was,
did not gratitude, in any ingenuous mind,
burn with tlie greater ardour, and prompt
them the more eagerly to seize every oppor-
tunity (if publicly testifying the feelings of
their hearts? Almighty God, it is true, is
too great to need our service of homage.
But he is also too great not to accept it,
when it is the native expression of a grate-
ful and generous uiind. If pride and self-
sufficiency stifle all sentiments of depen-
dence on our Creator; if levity, and attach-
ment to worldly pleasures, render us totally
neglectful of expressing our thankfulness
to him for his blessings ; do we not hereby
discover such a want of proper feeling,
such a degree of hardness and corruption
in our affections, as shows us to be immoral
and unworthy, and must justly expose us
XI.
206 On the Importance
SERM. to the high displetisure of Heaven? On
the contrary, according to every notion
whicli we can form of the Father of the
universe, must it not be acceptable to him
to behold his creaturts properly aflected in
heart towards their great Benefactor ; as-
sembling together to express, in acts of
worship, thatgratitude, love, and reverence,
which they owe him ; and thus nourishing
and promoting in one another an affection-
ate sense of his goodness ? Are not such
dispositions, and such a behaviour as this,
intimately connected with all virtue ?
O come, let us vjoiship and bow dowti?
let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
For he is our God ; and, ive are the flock of
his pasture. Enter into his gates with
thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.
The prayer of the upright is his delight.
It cometh before him as incense , and the
uplifting of their hands as the evening sa-
criflce. Having thus shown the reason-
ableness of public worship with respect to
God, let us now,
II. Consider its importance in another
view, as it respects the world. When we
survey
of Public Worship. 207
survey the general stale of mankind, we srrm.
find them continually iiiiniersed in worldly
affairs ; busied about providing* the neces-
saries of life, occupied in the pursuits of
their pleasures, or eagerly prosecuting the
advancementof their interests. In such a
situation of things, a small measure of
reflection might convince any one, that
witliout some returns of sacred days, and
some solemn calls to public worship, it
were impossible to preserve in the world
any sense of objects, so koreign to the gene-
ral current of thought, as an invisible
Governor, and a future state. l\ it be of
importance to the peace and good order of
society, that there should prevail aujong*
men the belief of One in the lieavens, v^'ho
is the protector of righteousness and the
avenger of crimes ; if it be of importance
that they be taught to look forward to a
day of judguient, when they are to be
brought to account for their most secret
actions, and eternally rewarded or punish-
ed, according as tlieir conduct has been
good or evil ; if such principles as tli£se,
I say, be of consequence to the public
welfare ; they certainly enforce the autho-
rity
208 On the Importance
SERM. rity of public worship, and prove the ne-
,J^ cessity of religious instruction.
I SPEAK now particularly with a view to
the multitude, the great mass and body of
the people. We all know how seldom,
from education or private instruction, they
have the advantage of deriving sentiments
of religion or morality. Early obliged to
labour for their bread, they would remain
all their days in gross ignorance of every
moral or sacred principle, were it not for
those public assemblies in which they hear
of God, and Christ, ard judgment, and
heaven, and hell. Shut up those temples
to which they resort with reverence ; ex-
clude them from the oppoKt unities they
now possess of receiving religious instruc-
tion, and imbibing religious ideas ; and
what can you expect them to become?
No other than a ferocious rabble, mIio,
set free from checks of conscience, and
fears of divine vengeance, would be prone
to every outrage which they could commit
with impunity. It is well known, that in
tlie early ages of the world, sages and legis-
lators, who endeavoured to tame and to
associate
of Public Worship. 209
associate the barbarous hordes of men, serm.
found it necessary for this purpose to have ^^"
recourse to religion. By bringing: the rude
multitudes to worship together, and, at stat-
ed times and places, to join in hymns and
songs to their deities, they gradually re-
strained them from violence, and trained
them to siibordination and civilized life.
During the progress of society in after-
periods, religious assemblies at church con-
tinue, I am persuaded, to have a very
considerable influence on the civilization
and improvement of the people. Even
nidependent of eff'ect upon their moral
principles, by leading numbers o them to
meet together in an orderly way, and in
their most decent appearance, they tend to
humanize and polish their manners. They
strengthen the social connections, and
promote friendly intercourse among those
who are in the same neighbourhood, and
in the same lines of life. It must, at the
same time, be agreeable to every hu-
mane mind to think, that one day in
seven is allotted for rest to the poor from
their daily labours, and for such enjoy-
ments of ease and comfort as their station
VOL. IV. P affords.
210 On the Importance
SERM. affords. It is the only day which gives
?^1" them occasion to feel themselves as belong-
ing to the same class of beings with their
superiors.; when joining with them in the
same acts of worsliip, and recognizing a
common Lord. iVmidst those distinctions
which the difference of ranks necessarily
introduces into human society, it is surely
fit that there be some occasions when man
can meet with man as a brother, in order
that the pride of the great may be checked ;
and the low may be taught that, if they
discharge properly their appointed part,
they have reason to expect, from the Lord
of the universe, the same rewards with the
rich and the mighty.
It will, I believe, be generally admitted,
that forms of public worship, and means
of religious instruction, are important, on
several accounts, for the body of the peo-
ple, and belong to the maintenance of
public safety and order. But many who
admit this are apt to think, that to the
common people alone they may be left. To
persons of liberal education and eularged
minds, what benefit can arise from hearing
what they already know ; and what, per-
haps^
of Public Worship. 211
haps, is to be inculcated on them by those sfrm.
who are of inferior capacity to themselves > ^^•
Admitting this plea of superiority which
their vanity forms, and setting aside for the
present any personal obligation they are
under to worship God, I must ask such
persons, how they can expect that religi-
ous assemblies will be long respected by
the lower ranks of men, if by men of rank
and education they are discountenanced
and forsaken ? Do not they know, that
those lower ranks are ready to copy the
manners, and to follow the example, of
their superiors in all things ; but assuredlj
in nothing more, than in what appears to
set them free from restraint, and to gratify
licentiousness? While they acknowledge
the importance, and even the necessity, of
public religion to certain classes of men, do
they not nevertheless contribute by their
behaviour to defeat the end of public reli-
gion, and to annihilate that importance
which they ascribe to it ?— They are em-
ployed in framing laws and statutes for pre-
venting crimes, and keeping the disorderly
multitude within bounds ; and at the same
time, by personally discountenancing pub-
V 2 lie
212 On the Importcmce
SERM. He worship, they are weakening, they are
J^ even abolishing', among the mtiltit\!de, that
moral restraint, which is of more general
influence upon manners than all the laws
they frame. In vain they complain of the
dishonesty of servants, of the insolence of
mobs, of the attacks of the highwayman.
To all these disorders they have themselves
been accessory. By their open disregard
of sacred institutions, they have disseminat-
ed profligacy among the people. They have
broken down the flood-gates which served
to restrain the torrent; they have let it loose
to overflow the land ; and by the growing
deluge may themselves be swept away. —
But I must next argue upon a different
ground ; and proceed,
III. To set forth the importance of the
public worship of God to every individual
in every rank of life. Whatever his sta^
tion be, he is still a man , and has the duties
of a man to perform. Were his attendance
on divine worship of no other effect than
to add countenance to a sal utary institution,
this alone would render it his duty. But,
moreover, we assert it to be his duty on his
own
of Public Worship. 213
own account ; if it be the duty of every serm.
XI.
man to use the proper means of preserving ^^*
and fortifying hisvirtue. All the Christian
institutions have a direct tendency to this
end. They all serve to give warmth to
piety, and to add solemnity to moral virtue.
A very high opinion, indeed, that man
must have of his own character, who ima-
gines that, amidst all the follies and corrup-
tions of the world, he stands in need of no
assistance for enabling him to act his part
with propriety and dignity.
The question is not. Whether persons of
rank and education are to learn any thing
that is new to them, by frequenting the
places of public worship ? The great prin-
ciples of piety and morality are obvioas
and easily known ; and we shall readily
admit, that there are many to whom no
new instruction is communicated in the
house of God. But, my friends, the pur-
pose, of your going there is to have known
truths recalled to your mind, and their
dormant influence awakened : is to have
serious meditations suggested ; to have
good dispositions raised ; to have the heart
adjusted to a composed and tranquil frame.
Is
2 1 4 On the Importance
SERM. Is there any man of reason and reflection
^^' who will not aeknowledyre such eifects, as
far as they follow, from attendance on re-
ligious ordinances, to be of the most bene-
ficial nature ? These occasional cessations
from the cares and anxieties of life, these
interruptions to the bustle and the passions
of the world, in order to think and hear of
eternity, are both a relief and an improve-
ment to the mind. By this retreat from
its ordinary circle of thoughts, it is enabled
to return, with more clearness and more
vigour, to the business of the world, after a
serious and proper pause.
But I must ask the persons with whom
1 now reason, whether there be no other
call to come to God's house than to hear
instruction there ? Is not the devout ado-
ration of the God of heaven the principal
object of our religious assemblies? and is
this what any man of reflection, and of
sober mind, dare to make light of? In the
tetnple of the Lord, the rich and the poor,
the prince and the peasant, appear as sup-
pliants alike for the protection and favour
of the Almighty. Great and flourishin&p
as
of Public Worship. 2!o
as thou mayest think thyself, know thatsERM.
thou standest as much in need of that pro- v,„v«^
tection, as the meanest of the croud whom
thou beholdest worshippini?, with lowly
reverence, the God of their fathers. The
sun of prosperity shines at present on thy
head, and the favourable gale carries thee
gayly along the stream of life. But the
Aluiighty needs only to give the word, and
instantly the tempest shall rise, and thy
frail bark shall be driven in the ocean, and
whelmed in the deep. Tn my prosperity,
1 said I shall never be moved. Thou,
Lordt didst hide thy face y andl was trou-
bUd. Lookup, with dread, (o that awful
hand of Providence which is stretched over
your heads. Remember the instability of
all human things; remember it and trem-
ble, ye who despise the devout acknow-
ledgment of him who disposes of the Jiuman
life ! Though ye live many years, and
rejoice in them all, remember the days of
darkness ; for they shall be many.
But after all tiiathas been urged on this
subject, I am sensible it may be objected,
that many, who make conscience of paying
strict
216 On the Importance
SERM strict regard to the institutions of relierion,
J^ do not appear to have derived much bene-
fit from them. They are not, it will be
said, more improved in moral conduct, and
in the proper discharge of the several duties
of life, than others who have been appa-
rantly negligent of the services of the
church. On the contrary, a formal regard
to these appears to be substituted by many,
in the room of the weightier matters of the
law. Though this should be admitted, it
goes no farther than to show that human
weakness, or corruption, may defeat the
purpose of the most promising means of
moral improvement. That a superstitious
attention to external worship has too often
usurped the character, and supplanted the
place, of real virtue, will not be denied.
Adnjonitions against so dangerous an error
cannot be given too often. But because
the best things have been often misapplied
and abused, no argument thence arises for
their being undervalued, and thrown aside.
So also reason, instruction, and discipline
of every kind, have been frequently per-
verted to bad ends ; and yet their intrinsic
worth and usefulaess remain untouched,
and
XI.
*
of Public Worship. 217
and ackn owl edited. Besides this, it can-SERM,
not be admitted that, because relij^ious ^
institutions produce not all the good that
might be wished, and hoped for, they
therefore do no good at all. This were a
rash and ill-founded conclusion. If the
morals of men are not always amended by
theju as they ought to have been, there is
reason, however, to think that they would
have been worse without them. Some
check is always given by them to open
profligacy. Some assistance is furnished
to good dispositions of heart ; at least, to
decency of manners. Even momentary
impressions of seriousness made on the
thoughtless by the solemnities of religion,
are not without their fruit. They leave
generally some trace behind them; and
when the traces are often renewed, they
may be hoped, through the divine blessings,
to form at last a deep impression on the
mind.
At the same time, I do not say that
religious institutions ^ork upon the mind
l,ike a charm ; and that mere bodily at-
tendance on them will always ensure us
of
218 On the Importance
SERM. of some profitable effect. Let the means
y^^ that are employed, for the improvement of
rational beings, be ever so powerful in
themselves, much of their success will
always depend on the manner in which they
are received and applied. I shall there-
fore conclude my reasonings on this sub-
ject, with a few observations concerning
the dispositions requisite on our part, for
deriving benefit from the public ordinances
of religion.
The ends for which we assemble in the
house of God are two ; to worship God,
and to listen to religious instructions.
The public worship of God is the chief
and most sacred purpose of every religious
assembly of Christians. Let it here be
remembered, that it is not the uttering, or
the hearing of certain words, that consti-
tutes the worship of the Almighty. It is
the heart that praises or prays. If the
heart accompany not the words that are
spoken or heard, we offer the sacrifice of
fools. By the inattentive thought, and
the giddy and wandering eye, we profane
the
of Public Worship. 219
the temple of the Lord, and turn the serm,
appearance of devotion into insult and ^'•
mockery.
With regard to religious instruction,
attention and reverence are unquestion-
ably due. All religious and moral know-
ledge conies from God. It is a light from
heaven, first transmitted to man by the
original constitution of his nature, and
afterwards made to shine with fairer and
fuller lustre by the revelation of the gospel
in Jesus Christ. Its brightness may some-
times be stronger, and sometimes weaker,
a^:cording to the mediums by which it is
conveyed. But still, as far as^he instruc-
tions delivered from the pulpit are illumi-
nated by the ray from heaven, they are the
truths of God, and ought to be received as
such. Refinements of vain philosophy,
or intricate subtilties of theological con-
troversy, are undoubtedly not entitled to
such regard. But when the great princi-
ples of natural or revealed religion are
discussed ; when the important doctrines
of the gospel concerning the life and suf-
ferings and death of our blessed Redeemer
are displayed ; or useful instructions re-
garding
220 On the Importance
SERM. garding" the regulation of life, and the
^^J^ proper discharge of our several duties, are
the subjects brought into view ; it is not
then the human speaker, but the divine
authority, that is to be regarded.
In the speaker, many imperfections and
infirmities may be discovered. The disco-
veries of the gospel are represented in
Scripture, as a hidden treasure brought to
light; but, by the appointment of God, U'6r
have this treasure in earthen vessels. It is
not the spirit of curiosity that ought to
bring us to church. Too often, it is to be
feared, we assemble there merely as critics
on the preacher, critics on his sentiment,
his language, and his delivery. But such
are not the dispositions which become us
on so serious an occasion. It was with
humility, with fairness, and candour, with
an intention to improve ourselves in piety
and virtue, with a view to make personal
application to our own character, that we
ought to hear the word of God.— When
we enter the sacred temple, let us ever
consider ourselves as creatures surrounded
with darkness, seeking illumination from
Heaven ; as guilty creatures, imploring
forgiveneis
of Public Woi'ship. 221
forgiveness from our judge ; as frail and serm.
XI.
mortal creatures, preparing for that eternal ^'
habitation, into which we know not how
soon we are to pass.
If with such sentiments and impressions
we join the worship of God, and the ordi-
nances of religion, we may justly hope that
they shall be accompanied to us with the
divine blessing. It is the express precept
of God, not to forsake the assemhling of
ourselves together. Gather together the
people, men, women, and children, that
they mayJiear, and that they may learn,
and fear the Lord your God ; and observe
to do all the words of this law. Enter his
gates uith thanksgiving, and his courts
vjith praise. Give unto the Lord the glorp
due to his name.— Thus bath God com-
manded, and he never commanded his
people to seek his name in vain. For,'
where two or three are gathered together
in his name, our Lord hath told us, that he
is in the midst of them. God hath said,
that he loveth the gates of Zion more than
all the dwellings of Jacob. The prayer
of
XI.
222 On the Importance, Sfc.
SERM of the upright is his delight. Both in
their temporal and spiritual concerns,
they may be most expected to prosper,
who can say with the Psalmist in the text,
Lordy 1 have loved the habitation of thy
house, and the place where thine honour
dwedeth.
L 223 ]
SERMON XII.
Or the Fashion of the World Passing
Away.
1 Cor. vii. 31.
The fashion of this ivorld passeth aivay.
TO use this ivorld so as not to abuse it, serm«
is one of the most important, and, ^^^
at the same time, one of the most ditlicult
lessons which religion teaches. By so
many desires and pa^^sions we are connect-
ed with the ohjects around ns, tijat our
attachment to them is always in hazard of
becoming excessive and sinful. Hence
religion is often employed in moderating*
this
224 On the Fashion of
;3ERM.tliis attachment, by rectifying our errone-
;J^ ous opinions, and instructing us in the
proper value we ought to set on worldly
thins^s. Such was particularly the scope
of the Apostle in this context. He is
putting the Corinthians in mind, that their
time is short ; that every thing here is
transitory ; and, therefore, that in all the
different occupations of human life, in
weeping and rejoicings and buying and
possessing, they were ever to keep in view
this consideration, that the fashion of this
world passeth away. The original expres-
sion imports the figure or form under
which the world presents itself to us. The
meaning is, All that belongs to this visible
state is continually changing. Nothing in
human affairs is fixed or stable. All is in
motion and fluctuation ; altering its ap-
pearance every moment, and passing into
some new form. Let us meditate for a little
on the serious view which is here given us
of the world, in order that we may attend
to the improvements which it suggests.
I. The fashion of the world passeth
away, as the opinions, ideas, and manners
of
the World passing away. 225
of men are always changing". We look in sfrm.
vain for a standard to ascertain and fix any ^^^'
of these ; in vain expect tliat what has beeu
approved and established for a while, is
alw ays to endnre. Principles which were
of high authority among- our ancestors are
now exploded. Systems of philosophy,
which were once universally received, and
taught as infallible truths, are now oblite-
rated and forgotten. Modes of living^, be-
having, and employing time and pursuits
of the busy, and the entertainments of the
gay, have been entirely changed. They
were the offspring of fashion, the children
of a day. When they had run their course,
they expired, and were succeeded by other
modes of living, and thinking, and acting',
which the gloss of novelty recommended
for a while to the public taste.
When we read an account of the man-
ners and occupations, of the studies and
opinions, even of our countrymen, in some
remote age, we seem to be reading the
history of a different world from what we
now inhabit. Coming downwards, through
some generations, a new face of things
appears. Men begin to think, and act,
VOL. IV. Q in
-^^ 6 On the Fashion of
SERM in a different train ; and what we call re-
v^^ finement gradually opens. Arriving al
our own times, we consider ourselves as
having widely enlarged the sphere of know-
ledge on every side, having formed just
ideas on every subject ; having attained
vhe proper standard of manners and beha-
viour ; and wonder at the ignorance and
the uncouthness, and rusticity of our fore-
fathersc But, alas ! what appears to us so
perfect shall in its turn pass away. The
next race, while they shove us off the stage,
will introduce their favourite discoveries
and innovations ; and what we now ad-
mire as the height of improvement, may in
a few ages hence be considered as altoge-
ther rude and imperfect. As one wave
effaces the ridge which the former had
made on the sand by the sea-shore, so every
succeeding age obliterates the opinions
and modes of the age which had gone before
it. The fashion of the world is ever pas-
sing away.
Let us only think of the changes which
our own ideas and opinions undergo in the
progress of life. One man differs not more
from another, than the same man varies
trom
the World passing- away. 227
from himself iu different periods of bis sfrm,
age, and in different situations of ibrtiuie. ^^^
In yonthj and in opulence, every thing
appears smiling and gayo We fly as on
the wings of fancy, and survey beauties
wherever we cast our eye But let some
more years have passed over our beads, or
let disappointments in the world have
depressed our spirits, and what a change
takes place I Tlie pleasing illusions that
once shone before us ; the splendid fabrics
that imagination had reared ; the enchant-
ing maze with which we once wandered
with delight, all vanish and are forgotten.
The world itself remains the same. But
its form, its appearance, and aspect, is
changed to our view ; its fashion as to us,
hath passed aivay.
II. While our opinions and ideas are
thus changing within, the condition of all
external things is, at the same time, ever
changing without us, and around us.
Wherever we cast our eyes over the face of
nature, or the monuments of art, we discern
the marks of alteration and vicissitude.
We cannot travel far upon the earth, with-
U 2 out
^28 On the Fashion of
b£KM. out being presented with many a striking
memorial of the changes made by time.
What was once a flourishing city, is now
a neglected village. Where castles and
palaces stood, fallen towers and ruined
walls appear. Where the magnificence of
the great shone, and the mirth of the gay
resounded, there, as the prophet Isaiah
describes, the owl and the raven now divell:,
thorns come up, and the nettle and the
bramble grow in the comets. -^When we
read the history of nations, what do we
read but the history of incessant revolu-
tions and change ? We behold kingdoms
alternatel}^ rising and falling ; peace and
wartakingplace by turns; princes, heroes,
and statesmen, coming forth in succession
on the stage, attracting our attention for a
little by the splendid figure they make,
and then disappearing and forgotten. We
see the fashion of the world assuming all
its different forms, and in all of them pas-
sing away.
But to historical annals there is no occa-
sion for our having recourse. Let any one,
who lias made some progress in life, recol-
lect onlj^ what he has beheld passing before
him
the World passing away. 229
liim in his own time- We have seen our serm.
country rise triumphant amonc^the nations; .^^^
and we have seen it also hnmbled in its
turn. We have seen in one hemisphere of
the gh)be new dominions acquired, and in
another hemisphere, our old dominions
lost. At home we have seen factions and
parties shift through all their different
forms ; and administrations, in succession
rise and fall. What were once the great
themes of eager discussion, and political
contest, are now forgotten. Fathers re-
count them to their children as the tales
of other times. New actors have come
forth on the stage of the world. New
objects have attracted the attention, and
new intrigues engaged the passions of men.
New members fill the seats of justice ; new
ministers the temples of religion ; and a
new world, in short, in the coarse of a
few years, has gradually and insensibly
risen around us.
When from the public scene we turn our
eye to our own private connections, the
changes whicli have taken place in the
fashion of the world, must touch every re-
flecting mind with a more tender sensibility.
Q 3 For
230 On the Fashion of
SERM. For where are now many of the compa-
y^t^ nions of our early years; many of those
with whom we first began the race of life?
and whose hopes and prospects were once
the same with our own ? In recollecting
our old acquaintance and friends, what
devastations liave been made by the hand
of time. On the ruins of our former con-
nections, new ones have arisen ; new rela-
tions have been formed ; and the circle of
those among whom we live is altogether
changed from what it once was. Compar-
ing our present situation with our former
condition of life ; looking back to our
father's house, and to the scenes of youth ;
remembering the friends by whom we were
trained, and the family in which we grew
up ; who, but with inward emotion, recol-
lects those days of former years, and is dis-
posed to drop the silent tear, when he views
the fashion of the world thus always prt«-
sing away.
111. Not only our connections with all
things around us change, but our own life,
through all its stages and conditions, is
ever passing away. How just, and how
afFectiiio-
the World pnssing awaij. 231
affecting is that iiuag-e, employed in the serm.
"V IT
sacred w ritings to describe the state of man, ^^
we spend our if ears as a tale that is told !
It is not to any thing great or lasting that
human life is compared ; not to a monn-
ment that is built, or to an inscription that
is engraved; not even to a book that is
written, or a history that is recorded ; but
to a tale^ which is listened to for a little ;
where the words are fugitive and passing,
and where one incident succeeds and hangs
on another, till by insensible trar.sitions we
are brought to the close: a tale, which in
some passages may be amusing, in others
tedious ; but whether it amuses or fatigues,
is soon told, and soon forgotten. Thus,
year steals upon us after year. Life is never
standing still for a moment ; but continu-
ally, though insensibily, sliding into a new
form. Infancy rises up fast to childhood ;
childhood to youth ; youth passes quickly
into manhood ; and the grey hair and the
faded look are not long of admonishing us,
that old age is at hand. In tliis course all
generations run The world is made up of
unceasing rounds of transitory existence.
Some gienerations are coming forward into
Q 4 being,
232 On the Fashion of
SERM. being', and others hastening to leave it.
^^ The stream which carries us all along is
ever flowing" with a quick current, though
with a still and noiseless course. The
dwelling place of man is continually einp-
tifying, and by a fresh succession of inhabi-
tants continually filling anew. The me-
mort/ of man passeth away like the remem-
brance of a guest who hath tarried but one
night.
As the life of man, considered in its
duration, thus fleets and passes away ; so,
during the time it lasts, its condition is
perpetually changing. It aflbrds us noth-
ing on which we can set up our rest ; no
enjoyment or possession which we can
properly call our own. When we have
begun to be placed in such circumstances
as we desired, and wish our lives to pro-
ceed in the same agreeable tenor, how often
comes some unexpected event across to
disconcert all our schemes of happiness?
Our health declines, our friends die ; our
families are scattered ; something or other
is not long of occurring, to show us that the
whole must turn round ; the fashion of the
world
ihe World passini*- away. 233
world must pass a IV atf. Is there any man sehm.
wlio dares to look to futurity with an ~^^\
eye of confide'it hope ; and to say, that
against a year hence he can promise being
in the same condition of health or fortune
as he is at present? The seeds of chanj;'e
are every wliere sown in our state ; and tiie
very causes that seemed to promise us
security, are often secretly undermining it.
Great fame provokes the attacks of envy
and reproach. High health gives occasion
to intemperance and disease. The eleva-
tion of the mighty never fails to render
tiieir condition tottering; and that obscurity,
which shelters the mean, exposes them, at
the same time, to become the prey of op-
pression. So completely is \he fashion of
this world made by Providence for change,
and prepared for passing away. In the
midst of this instability, it were some com-
fort did human prosperity decay as slowly
as it rises. By slow degrees, and by many
intervening steps, it rises. But one day is
sufficient to scatter and bring it to nought.
I might add,
W. That the world itself in which we
dwell,
XII.
234 On the Fashion of
sEfiM dwell, the basis of all our present enjoy-
ments, isitself contrived for change, and de-
signed to pass away. While the generations
of men come forth in their turns, like troops
of succeeding' pilgrims, to act their part on
this globe, the globe on which they act is
tottering under their feet. It was once
overflowed by a deluge. It is shaken by
earthquakes ; it is undermined by subter<
raneous fires ; it carries many a mark of
having suffered violent convulsions, and of
tending to dissolution. Revelation informs
us, that there is a day approaching, in
whicli the heavens shall pass away with a
great noise ; the elements shall melt with
fervent heat ; and the earth and the works
therein shall be burn I up. When this des-
tined hour arrives, the fashion of the world,
shall have finally past away. Immortal
spirits shall then look back upon this world,
as we do at present on cities and empires,
which were once mighty and flourishing,
but now are swept from existence, and
their place is no more to be found.
I SHALL insist no longer on this rei)resen-
:ation of things. Enough has been said.
the World pnssinif away. 235
to show til at the fashion of the world, in s'-rm-
every sense, passes away. Opinions and ^^
manners, pnblic affairs and private con-
cerns, the life of man, the conditions of
fortune, and tlie earth itself on which we
dwell, are all changing around us. Is every
thing, then, with which we are connected,
passing- and transitory ? Is the whole state
of man no more than a dream or fleeting-
vision ? Is he bronght forth to be only the
child of a day? Are we thrown into a
river where all flows, and nothing stays ;
where we have no means of resisting the
current ; nor can reach any firm ground on
which to rest our foot ? No, my brethren ,
man was not doomed to be so unhappy ;
nor made by his Creator so much in vain.
There are three fixed and permanent ob-
jects to which I must now call your atten-
tion, as the great supports of human con-
stancy amidst this fugitive state. Though
this world changes and passes away, virtue
and goodness never change, God never
rhanaes, heaven and immortality pass not
away.
First, Virtue, and goodness never change.
Let
236 Oti the Fashion of
SERM. Let opinions and manners, conditions and
,^^ situations, in public and in private life,
alter as they will, virtue is ever the same.
It rests on the immoveable basis of Eternal
Truth. Among- all the revolutions of hu-
man things, it maintains its ground, ever
possessing the veneration and esteem of
mankind, and conferring on the heart which
enjoys it, satisfaction and peace. Consult
the most remote antiquity. Look to the
most savage nations of the earth. How
wild, and how liuctuating soever the ideas
of men may have been, this opinion you
^vill find to have always prevailed, that
probity, truth, and beneficence, form the
honour and the excellency of man. In
this the philosopher and the savage, the
warrior and the hermit, join. At.this altar
all have worshipped. Their offerings may
have been unseemty. Their notions of
virtue may have been rude, and occasional-
ly tainted by ignorance and superstition ;
but the fundamental ideas of moral worth
have ever remained the same.
Here then is one point of stability, affect-
ed by no vicissitudes of time and life, on
which we may rest. Our fortunes may
change.
the World passing' away. 237
chansfe,^ and our friends may die ; but sEitM.
virtue may still be our own ; and as long ^^^*
as this remains we are never mi*:ereable. \
Till I die 1 will not remove mi/ integrity
from me. JMy righteousness 1 hold fust,
and will not let it go. j\]y heart shall not
reproach me so loivg as I live. He who,
with the holy man of old, can hold this
language, may with undisturbed mind
survey time flying away, life decaying, and
the whole fashion of the world changing
around him. He hath within himself a
source of consolation and hope independent
of all earthly objects. Every terrestrial
glory spa4'kles only for a little, with tran-
sient brightness. But virtue shines with
eternal and unalterable splendour. It
derives its origin from heaven; and partakes
both of the lustre, and the stability of ce-
lestial objects. It is the brightness of the
everlasting light ; the unspotted mirror of
Godj and the image of his goodness-
In the second place, God never changes.
Amidst the unceasing vicis»^itude of earthly
things, there remains at the head of the
universe an eternal Protector of virtue,
whose
*238 On the Fashion of
SKini. w^^hose throne is established for ever. With
^''" liini there is no variableness, neither any
shadow of tutming- ; no inconstancy of
purpose, and no decay of wisdom or of
power. We know that he loved righte-
ousness from the beginning of days, and
that he will continue to love it unalterably
to the last Foreseen by him was every
revolution which the course of ages has
produced • All the changes which happen
in the state of nature, or the life of men,
were comprehended in his decree. How
much soever worldly things may change
in themselves, they are all united in his
plan ; they constitute one great system or
whole, of which he is the Author; and
which, at its final completion, shall appear
to be perfect. His douiinion holds toge-
ther, in a continued chain, the successive
variety of human events, gives stability U
things that in themselves are fluctuating ;
gives constancy even to the fashion of the
world while it is passing away. Where-
fore, though all things change on earth
and we ourselves be involved in the gene-
ral mutability, yet as long as, with trust
and hope, we look up to the Supreme
Being,
tlie World passing away. 239
Being, we rest on the rock of ages, and are serm.
AT Tr
sate amidst every change. We possess a
fortress, to wliich we can have recourse in
all dangers ; a refuge under all storms ; a
dwelling place in all general ions.
In the third and last place. Heaven and
immortality pass not away. The fleeting
scenes of tliis life are to be considered as
no more than an introduction to a nobler
and more permanent order of things, when
man shall have attained the maturity of
his being. This is what reason gave some
ground to expect; what revelation has
fully confirmed ; and in confirming it,
has agreed with the sentiments and antici-
pations of the good and wise in every age.
We are taught to believe, that what we now
behold, is only the first stage of the life of
man. We are arrived no farther than the
threshold; we dwell as in the outer courts
of existence. Here, tents only are pitched ;
tabernacles erected for the sojourners of a
day. But in the region of eternity, all is
great, stable, and unchanging. There, the
mansions of the just are prepared; there,
<^he citj^ which hath foundation,^ is built;
there
240 On the Fashion of
SEHM. there is established, the kingdom vjhich
^^^ etmnot be moved. Here every thing is in
stir and fluctuation ; because here good
men continue not, but pass onward in the
course of being. There all is serene, steady,
and orderly ; because there remain eth the
final rest of tlie people of God. Here all
is corrupted by our folly and guilt ; and of
course must be transient and vain. But
there, purchased by the death, and secured
by the resurrection, of the Son of God, is
an inheritance incorruptible, iindefiledy
and that fadeth not away. There reigns
that tranquillity which is never troubled.
There shines that sun which never sets.
There flows that river of pleasures, which
is always unruflled and pure. Looking
forward to those divine habitations, the
changes of the present world disappear to
the eye of faith ; and a good man becomes
ashamed of suffering himself to be deject-
ed by what is so soon to pass away.
Such are the objects you ought to oppose
to the transient fashion of the world %
Virtue, and God, and Heaven. Fixing
your regard on these, you will have no
reason
the World j)assing away. 241
reason to complain of the lot of man, or serm.
the world's mutability. — The desiarn of the ^^^*
preceding representation which I gave of
the world, was not to indulge vain decla-
mation ; to raise fruitless melancholy ; or
to throw an unnecessary cloud over human
life : but to show the moderation requisite
in our attachment to the world ; and, at
the same time, to point out the higher ob-
jects both of attention and consolation
which religion affords. Passing and change-
able as all human things are, among them,
however, we must at present act our part ;
to them we must return from religious me-
ditation. They are not below the regard
of any Chri-stian ; for they form the scene
which Providence has appointed at present
for his activity, and his duty. Trials and
dangers they may often present to bim ;
but amidst these he will safely hold his
course, if, when engaged in worldly affairs,
he keep in view these divine objects which
I have been setting before him. Let him
ever retain connection with Virtue, and
God, aaid Heaven. By them let his con-
duct be regulated, and his constancy sup-
ported. So shall he use this world without
VOL. IV. R ahusifig
>^w/
242 On the Fasfdon, S^c.
if^RM. abushtg- it. He shall neither droop under
■ its misibrtanes, nor be vainly elated by its^
advantages ; but through all its changes
shall carry an equal and steady mind ; and
io the end shall receive the accomplishment
of the promise of Scripture, that though the
world passeth away, and the lust thereof,
he that doth the will of God shall abide
for ever^
L 243 ]
SERMON XIIL
On Tranquillity of Mind
Psalm xv. 6.
— ffe that doeth these thing shall never he
moved.
TRANQUILLITY of mind, or, in the serm
words of the text, a mind not moved
or disquieted by the accidents of life, is un-
doubtedly one of the greatest blessings that
we can possess on earth. It is here men-
tioned as the reward of the man, whose
character had been described in this Psalm,
as leading a virtuous life, and dischargini'
his duty towards God and his neighbour.
R2 ft
244 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM, It is indeed the ultimate aim, to which the
^"^•. wishes of the wise and reflecting have ever
been directed, that with a mind undisturb-
ed by anxieties, cares, and fears, they
might pass their days in a pleasing sere-
nity. They justly conclude that, by
enjoying themselves in peace, they would
enjoy, to the greatest advantage, all the
comforts of life that came within their
reach.
This happy tranquillity, the multitude
conceive to be most readily attainable by
means of wealth, or, at least, of an easy
fortune, which they imagine would set
them above all the ordinary disturbances
of life. That it has some effect for this
purpose cannot be denied: Poverty and
straitened circumstances are often incon-
sistent with tranquillity. To be destitute
of those conveniencies that suit our rank
in the world ; to be burdened with anxiety
about making provision for every day
which passes over our head ; instead of
bringing comfort to a family who look up
to us for aid, to behold ourselves surround-
ed with their wants and complaints, are
circumstances which cannot fail to give
much
On TranquiUity of Mind, 24?
much uneasiness to every feeling mind, skrm
To take measure, therefore, for attaining- ^^^\
a competent fortune, hy laudable means,
is wise and proper. Entire negligence of
our affairs, and indifference about our
worldly circumstances, is, for the most part,
the consequence of some vice, or some
folly. — At the same time, I nuist observe,
that the attainment of opulence is no cer-
tain method of attaining tranquillity. Em-
barrassments and vexations often attend it;
and long experience has shown, that'tran-
quillity is far from being always found
among the rich. Nay, the higher that
men rise in the world, the greater degrees
of power and distinction which they ac-
quire,, they are often the farther removed
from internal peace. The world affords so
many instances of miseries abounding in
the higher ranks of life, that it were need-
less to enlarge on a topic so generally
known and admitted.
Assuming it, therefore, for an undoubted
truth, that the mere possession of the goods
of fortune may be consistent with the want
of inward tranquillity, we must look around
for other more certain grounds of it. We
R 3 must
246 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM. must inquire, whether any line of conduct
\^ can be pointed out, which, independent of
external situation in the world, shall tend
to make us easy in mind ; shall either
bestow, or aid, that tranquillity which all
men desire. The remaining part of this
discourse shall be employed in suggesting,
with great plainness of speech, such direc-
tions as appear to me most material on this
important subject.
The first direction which I have to sug-
gest, is, that we imitate the character of the
man who is described in this Psalm as
walking uprightly, working righteousness,
and speaking the truth as he thinketh in his
heart ; that we study to preserve a- clear
conscience, and to lead a virtuous and ho-
nourable, at least an inoffensive and inno-
cent life. Of such a man only it can be
said, that, doing these thing, he shall never
he moved' So great is the power of con-
science over every human being, that the
remembrance of crimes never fails to over-
throw tranquillity of mind. Be assured,
that he who defrauds his neighbour, who
has ensnared the innocent, has violated his
trust.
On Tranquillity of Mind. 247
trust, or betrayed his friend, shall never sFim
enjoy within himself undisturbed quiet. ^^
His evil deeds will at times recur to his
tlioughts, like ghosts rising up in black
array before him to haunt his couch. Even
the sense of a foolish and trifling conduct,
of a life past in idleness and dissipation ;
by which, though a man has notbeen guilty
of great crimes, he has, however, wasted
his substance, mispent his time, and brought
upon himself just reproach; even this, I
say, is suflicient to create much uneasiness
and disquiet to the heart. Let him, there-
fore, who wishes to enjoy tranquillity,
study, above all things, to act an irre-
proachable part With comfort he will
rest his head on his pillow at night, when
he is conscious that throughout the day he
has been doing his duty towards God and
man ; when none of the transactions of that
day come back, in painful remembrance, to
upbraid him- To this testimony of a good
conscience, let him be able.
In the second place, to join humble trust
in the favour of God. As, after the best
endeavours we can use, no man's behavi-
R 4 our
248 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM our will be entirely faultless, it is essential
^^ to peace of mind, that we have some
ground for hope in the divine mercy, that,
through the merits of Jesus Christ, our
defects shall be forgiven, and grace be
shown us by Heaven. This includes all
the duties of faith and repentance that are
required by the gospel ; the faithful dis-
charge of which duties is absolutely neces-
sary for delivering us from those fears of
another world, which if not allayed, are
sufficient to banish all tranquillity from the
heart. Our religious principles must, at
the same time, be sound and pure ; and
carefully preserved from the taint of super-
stition, whose gloomy horrors, taking- pos-
session of weak and ill-founded minds, con-
vert what they mistake for religion, into a
source of misery. Moreover, it is necessary
that we be able to place trust in God, not
only as our future Judge, but as the present
Governor of human affairs. So uncertaiu
is the continuance of every earthly com-
fort, that he who reposes no confidence in
the Supreme Disposer of events, must be
often disquieted and dejected. He alone
possesses
On TrauquiirUy of Mind. 249
possesses firm tranquillity, who, amidst all sfrm.
human vicissitudes, looks up, with settle<l ^'"
trust, to an Almighty Ruler, as tc» one under
whose conduct he is safe. To him alone
belongs that happy privilege, described by
the Psalmist: He shall not he afraid of
evil tidings ; his heart is fixed, trusting in
the JLord.
I HAVE pointed out the primary and
essential foundations of tranquillity ; vir-
tuous conduct, good principles, and pious
dispositions. At the same time, a man
may be both pious and virtuous, and yet,
through some defects in the management
of his mind and temper, may not possess
that hap|)y serenity and self-enjoyment,
which ought to be the portion of virtue and
piety. Instances of this will occur to every
one who is acquainted with the '^orld.
We too often behold persons, whose prin-
ciples, and whose moral conduct, are in the
main unexceptionalde, leading an uncom-
fortable life ; through fretful n ess of tem-
per, peevishness of manners, or sullenness
of disposition. There is, therefore, some
discipline to be studied; there are some
subsidiary
*250 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM. subsidiary parts of character to be attend-
^^]\ ed to, in order to give piety and virtue
their full eftect for conferring tranquillity.
To the consideration of these secondary
means 1 now proceed. Let me then ad-
vise you.
In the third place, to attend to the cul-
ture and improvement of your minds. A
fund of useful knowledge, and a stock of
ideas, afiord much advantage for the en-
joyment of tranquillity. I do not mean,
that every man must study to become
deeply learned. The situation of many
would not allow it. The taste, and the
habits of others, prevent it. But what I
mean is, that every man, who wishes to
lead a comfortable life, should provide for
himself, as much as he can, by means of
observation, reading, and reflecting, a large
field of useful thoughts. In a mind abso-
lutely vacant, tranquillity is seldom found.
The vacancy too often will be filled up by
bad desires and passions. Whereas the
mind of a wise man is a kingdom to itself.
In hislonely, or melancholy hours, he finds
always resources within himself, to which
he
On TranqidUity of Mind. 251
he can turn for relief. As there are many serm,
occasions when external objects afford no ^]^
pleasnre, it is only by being able to rest on
the entertainments afforded to himself by
his mind, that any one can pass his days
with selt'-enjoynient. Let me recommend
for the same purpose,
In the fourth place, That we be always
careful to provide proper employment for
our time. Regular industry and labour,
with intervals of ease, is perhaps the state
most conducive of any to tranquillity. If
our station give no call to industry, it will
be profitable that we study to have some
end or object in view, to which our atten-
tion shall be directed. Relaxation from
intense or incessant purstiit is requisite for
comfort. But if relaxation degenerate into
total idleness, it becomes in a high degree
adverse to tranquillity. Every man by his
nature is formed, more or less, for action.
In a mind that is entirely quiescent, and
that has no object to put it into motion,
mstead of self-enjoyment, there will be
constant langour, tediousness, and misery.
Life stagnates in such a situation, like a
Dool
2d2 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM. pool of dead waters; and the man becomes
^^^^ a burden to himself. Violent and danger-
ous pursuits, which distract and embroil
those who are engaged in them, I cannot
be understood to recommend- Every one
sees how foreign these are to a state of
tranquillity. But in the ordinary tenor of
calm and easy life, I would advise every
one to have some end before him ; some
object which shall bring the mind into
action, and fill up the vacuities of time.
Provided the object be innocent, and of
no unsuitable or degrading nature, it may
answer this purpose, though it should not
be in itself of high importance. It is better
for the mind to have some determined
direction given it, than to be always left
floating, as it were, in empty space. — But
about whatever objects we are employed,
it is still more material to tranquillity,
that, in the
Fifth place. We learn to govern our
passions. These are the most frequent
disturbers of our peace. Necessary as their
impulse is to give activity to the mind, yet,
if they are not kept in subordination to
reason,
Uti Tranquilliti/ of Mind. 263
reason, they speedily Ihrovv all things into seum-
confusion. Such of them as belong to the ^^J^'
malignant and unsocial class, evidently
tend to produce vexation and disquiet.
Against suffering these to gain possession
of the heart, admonition is scarcely neces-
sary. But I must admonish you, that even
those which are accounted of innocent na-
ture, and which therefore may lay hold of
virtuous minds, if they obtain the entire
mastery, are sujflicient to overthrow the
tranquillity of life. Let every one, there-
fore, who values that tranquillity, study to .
retain moderation and self-command, even
in the midst of passions which have a fair
and bland appearance. He will find, that
the gratification of any one of them com-
pensates not that perpetual slavery to which
it will reduce him, when it becomes inor-
«
dinate.
I HAVE farther to admonish you, that this
self command is particularly necessary in,
all that relates to habitual temper. Even
where strong passions are out of the ques-
tion, those slighter emotions which ruffle
or sour the temper, are sufficient, by their
freanent
XIII.
254 On Tranquillity of Mind.
sF.RM frequent recurrence, to poison all self-
enjoyment. He, who would possess a
tranquil state, must, above all things, cul-
tivate calmness and gentleness of disposi-
tion. He ought especially to cultivate it
in that society, whether domestic or social,
with which he has most frequent inter-
course. We all know, that there are
tliousands who in public, and in formal
coiripanies, appear to be all gentleness and
sweetness, but who, at home, and among
their nearest relations, give vent, with free-
dom, to the most harsh and peevish dispo-
sitions. Such persons are not likely to
enjoy much real comfort. For it is in the
daily and familiar intercourse of life, thay
temper chiefly exerts its power, either for
promoting or for disturbing the tranquillity
of our days. On occasions when men come
closest together, if, instead of meeting in
smooth contact, they rub and grate on one
another, the feelings produced on both sides
are of the most offensive and displeasing
kind. Nothing can be assumed as a more
certain axiom, than that he who allows
either inordinate passions or a cross temper,
to govern him, must, though he should
possess
On Tranquillity of Mind, 255
possess all that flourishing fortune can sfj^m.
xrif
bestow, be a stranger to tranquillity.
In the sixth place, Let me advise you
never to expect too much from the world.
High hopes, and florid views, are great
enemies to tranquillity. When rashly
indulged, they are constantly producing
disappointments. Their indulgence, in
the mean time, occasions discontent with
our present situation ; and he who is dis-
contented cannot be happy. One of the
first lessons, both of religion and wisdom,
is, to moderate our expectations and hopes;
and not to set forth on the voyage of life
like men who expect to be always carried
forward with a favourable gale. Let your
views be suited to your rank and station in
the world, and never soar fantastically
beyond them. Content yourselves with
sober pleasures, and form your relish to
them. Be thankful when you are free
from pain, though you be not in the midst
of high enjoyment. Be satisfifrd if the path
you tread be easy and smooth, though it
be not strewed with flowers. Human life
admits not of continued pleasure ; ncr is
it
256 On Tranguilliti/ ofMiiid.
SERM. it always rendered happy by great exalta-
y^^ tion. Remetiiber, that it is a middle region
which is the native station of tranquillity
It neither aspires to those heights of tJie
atmosphere where the thunder is formed,
nor creeps always on the ground. Affect
not, on every occasion, to put yourselves
forward. Be content to retire sometimes
into the shade ; and allow others to take
their proper place. It will be easily seen,
that I speak not now to the ambitious and
aspiring ; but to those who value tran-
quillity more than splendid appearance in
the world.
Such persons 1 also advise, while they
expect not too much from the world, nei-
ther, also, to form too high expectations
from the characters of those on whose
friendship they rest, and with whom it is
their lot to be connected, either in social
or domestic relations. If you have looked
tor perfection any where you will find
yourself disappointed ; and the conse-
quence of this disappointment will be, that
friendship will cool, and disgust succeed.
If you wish to enjoy comfort in any of your
connections, take your fellow-creatures as
they
v^v^
On Tii^uquillift/ of Mind. 257
they are, and look for their imperfections serm
to appear. You know you have your own ; ^"^'
bear \\\t\\ those of others, as you expect
that tliey are to bear with you. As no one
is without his failings, iew also are void of
amiable qualities. Select for yojir compa-
nions those who have the greatest share of
such qualities ; and value them accord-
ingly. In a word, make the best of this
world as you find it. Reckon both on the
state of human life, and on the society of
men, as mixed, and chequered with good
and evil. Carrying' always in your eyes
uch views of things, you will be best
formed to those equal spirits, and that rea-
sonable disposition of mind, which make
the basis of tranquillity. I shall only add,
as my
Seventh, and last, advice on this sub-
ject, to mix retreat with the active business
of the world, and to cultivate habits of
serious thought and recollection. I before
advised those who are not particularly
engaged in active life, to form to them-
selves some object of pursuit, in order to
furnish proper employment to time and
VOL IV. S thought.
258 On Tranquillity of Mind.
VhtiU. thought. But the great multitude of men
XIII •
are in a different situation. Industry is
required of them ; business and cares press,
and active pursuits occupy their closest
attention. He who in this situation pours
himself forth incessantly on the world,
cannot escape partaking much of its dis-
turbance and trouble. Amidst bustle,
intrigue, and dissention, he must pass
many an uneasy hour. Here an enemy
encounters him ; there a rival meets him.
A suspicious friend alarms him one hour ;
an ungrateful one provokes him the next.
I do not commend, that, for these reasons,
he who studies tranquillity should retire
from all public business, and forsake the
haunts of men. This were the retreat of a
monk, not of a good and a wise man.
Tranquillity were too dearly ])urchased
by the neglect of those duties which belong
to a man and a Christian. Nor indeed in
absolute seclusion from the world is tran-
quillity ever found. On the contrary, when
the human mind is cut otF from those em-
ployments for which it was designed by
nature and Providence, it preys on itself,
and engenders its own misery. Tranquil-
lity
^^N-V
Oh Tranquillity of Mind. i259
lity is always most likely to be attained, serm
when the business of the world is temper-
ed with thoughtful and serious retreat ;
Commune, with your hearts on your bed,
and be still. Leaving this world to itself,
let there be seasoiis which you devote to
yourselves, and to God. Reflection and me-
ditation allaythe workings of many unquiet
passions ; and place us at a distance from
the tumults of the world. When the mind
has either been ruffled or cast down, an in-
tercourse with God and heaven we find a
sanctuary to which we can retreat. In the
hours of contemplation and devotion, a
good man enjoys himself in peace. He
beholds nobler objects than what worldly
men can behold. He assumes a higher
obardcter. He listens to the voice of na-
ture and of God ; and from this liolv sane-
tuary comes forth with a mind fortified
against the little disturbances of the world.
Such habits, therefore, cannot be too much
recommended to the lovers of tranquillity,
as powerful subsidiary means for attaining
tliat happy state.
I HAVE thus pointed out what appears to
S2 me
260 On Tranquillity of Mind.
SERM.me the discipline of relig-ion and wisdom
^^ for tranquillity of mind. He that doth
these things shall never be moved. Du ring
the early periods of life, vivid sensations
of pleasure are the sole objects thought
worthy of pursuit. Mt*r£ ease and calm-
ness are despised, as the portion of the
aged only and the feeble. Some longer
acquaintance with the world, with its dis-
appointed hopes and fallacious pleasures,
teaches almost all men, by degrees, to wish
for tranquillity and peace. But you must
not imagine, that these are blessings which
will drop on men of their own accord as
soon as they begin to desire them. No,
the thoughtless and the profligate will
ever remain strangers to them. They will
remain the sport of every accident that
occurs to derange their minds, and to dis-
turb their life. The three great enemies
to tranquillity are, Vice, Superstition, and
Idleness : Vice, which poisons and disturbs
the mind with bad passions ; Superstition,
which fills it with imaginary terrors ; Idle-
ness, which loads it with tediousness and
disgust. It is only by following the path
which eternal Wisdom ha*? r^ointed out, that
we
On TranquiUittj of Mind. 26 J
we can arrive at tlie blessed temple of sfrm.
tranquillity, and obtain a station there: ^'^'
By doing', or at least endeavourinu: to do,
our duty to God and man ; by acquiring* a
bumble trust in tlie mercy and favour of
God through Jesus Christ : by cultivating^
our minds, and properly employing- our
time and thoughts ; by governing" our pas-
sions and our temper; by correcting all
unreasonable expectations from the world
and from men ; and, in the midst of worldly
business, habituating ourselves to calm
retreat and serious recollection. By such
means as these, it may be hoped, that,
tl) rough the divine blessing, our days shall
iiow in a stream as unruffled as the human
state admits. The nicked are like the
troubled sea, when it cannot rest. Hut the
work of righteousness is peace ; and the
effect of righteousness is quietness and ««-
surance for ever.
S3
L 262 ]
SERMON XIV.
On the Misfortunes of Bad Men being
Chargeable on Themselves.
Proverbs xix. 3.
The foolishness of man pervertetk his waif,
and his heart fretteth against the Ltord.
sERM. "JITOW many complaints do we hear,
^^^^' KIL from every quarter, of the misery
and distress that fill the world. In these
the high and the low, the young and tfie
aged, join ; and since the beginning of
time, no topic lias been more fertile of de-
clamation than the vanity and vexation
which man is appointed to suffer. But
are we certain that this vexation, and this
vanitv.
On the J^is fortunes of Men, ^'c. 26*3
vanily, is altogether to be ascribed to the sfrm.
appointuieiit of Heaven ? Is there no ^^^
ground to suspect tliat man hinisell'is the
chief and immediate author of his own
suti'erings ? What the text plainly suggests
is, that it is common for men to complain
grouiidlessly of Providence ; that they are
prone to accuse God for the evils of life,
when in reason they ought to accuse them-
selves ; and that after their foolishness
hath perverted their way, and made them
undergo the consequences of their own
misconduct, they impiously />-e# in heart
against the Lord. This is the doctrine
which I now propose to illustrate, in order
to silence the sceptic, and to check a repin-
ing and irreligious spirit. I shall for this
end make some observations, first, on the
external, and next, upon the internal,
condition of man, and then conclude with
such serious and useful improvement, as
the subject will naturally suggest.
I. Let us consider the external condition
ot man. We find him placed in a world,
where he has by no means the disposal of
the events that happen. Calamities some-
S 4 times
264 On the Misfortunes of 31en
SKRM. times befal the worthiest and the best,
l^^ which it is not in their power to prevent,
and where nothina^ is left them, but to
acknowledge and to submit to the high
band of Heaven. For such visitations of
trial, many good and wise reasons can be
assigned, which the present subject leads
me not lo discuss. But though those un-
avoidable calamities make a part, yet they
make not the chief part, of the vexations
and sorrows that distress human life. A
multitude of evils beset us, foi the source
of which we must look to another quarter.
No sooner bas any thing in the health, or
in the circumstances of men, gone cross to
their wish, than they begin to talk of the
unequal distribution of the good things of
this life ; they envy the condition of others;
they repine at their own lot, and fret against
the Ruler of the world.
Full of these sentiments, one man pines
under a broken constitution. But let us
ask him, whether he can, fairly and ho-
nestly, assign no cause for this but the
unknown decree of Heaven ? Has he duly
valued the blessing of health, and always
observed the rules of virtue and sobriety:
Has
s^vw
being chargeable on Themselves. 265
Has he been moderate in his life, and tern- serm.
perate in all his pleasures: If now he be ^^
only paying* the price of his former, per-
haps his forgotten indulgences, has he any
title to complain, as if he were suffering
unjustly ? Were you to survey the cham-
bers of sickness and distress, you would
find them peo[)led with the victims of in-
tern ])erance and sensuality, and with the
children of vicious indolence and sloth.
Among the thousands who languish there,
you would find the proportion of innocent
sufferers to be small. You would see
faded youth, premature old age, and the
prospect of an untimely grave, to be the
portion of multitudes who, in one way or
other, have brought fhose evils on them-
selves, while yet these martyrs of vice and
folly have the assurance to arraign the
hard fate of man, and to fret against the
Lord.
But you, perhaps, complain of hardships
of another kind ; of the injustice of the
world ; of the poverty which you suffer,
and the discouragements under which you
labour ; of the crosses and disappoint-
ments of which your life has been doomed
to
266 On the Misfortunes of Men
SERM. to be full. Before you give too much scope
^^^* to your discontent, let me desire you to
reflect impartially upon your past train of
life. Have not sloth, or pride, or ill-tem-
per, or sinful passions, misled you often
from the path of sound and wise conduct >
Have you not been wanting to yourselves
in improving those opportunities which
Providence offered you, for bettermg and
advancing your state ? If you have chosen
to indulge your humour or your taste, in
the gratifications of indolence or pleasure,
can you complain, because others, in pre-
ference to vou, have obtained those advan-
tages which naturally belong to useful
labours, and honourable pursuits ? Have
not the consequence of some false steps,
into which your passions or your pleasures
have betrayed you, pursued you through
much of your life, tainted, perhaps, your
character, involved you in embarrassments,
or sunk you into neglect? It is an old say-
ing, that every man is the artificer of his
own fortune in the world. It is certain
that the world seldom turns wholly against
a man, unless through his own fault. God-
liness is, in general, proftahle unto all
things.
beini> charjieable on Thetnaelves. 2(i7
things Virtue, diligence, and industry, si ijm
joined with good teinper and prudence, ''^'^•
have ever been found the surest road to
prosperity ; and where men fail of attain-
ing it, the want of success is far oftener
owing to their having deviated from that
road, than to their having encountered
insuperable bars m it. Some, by being
too artful, forfeit the reputation of probity.
Some, by being too open, are a^^counted to
iail in prudence. Others, by being fickle
and changeable, are distrusted by all
The case commonly is, that men seek to
ascribe their disappointment to any cause,
rather than to their own misconduct; and
when they can devise no other cause, they
lay them to the charge of Providence.
Their folly leads them into vices; their
vices into misfortunes; and in their mis-
fortunes they fret against the Lord. They
are doubly unjust towards God. In their
prosperity, they are apt to ascribe their
success to their own diligence, rather than
to God's blessing; and in their adversity,
they impute their distresses to his Provi-
dence, not to their own misbehaviour.
AVhereas, the truth is the very reverse of
this.
J ( ;8 Ov fh e Alisf or tunes of Men. ^
SERM- this. Everij good and every perfect gift
Cometh from above ., and of evil and misery
man is the author to himself.
When from the condition of individuals
we look abroad to the public state oi ihe
world, we meet with more proofs of the
truth of this assertion. We see great
societies of men torn in pieces by intestine
dissentions, tumults, and civil commotions.
We see mighty armies going forth, in for-
midable array, against each other, to cover
the earth with blood, and to fill the air
with the cries of widows and orphans
Sad evils these are, to which this miserable
world is exposed.— But are these evils, I
beseech you, to be imputed to God ? Was
it he who sent forth slaughteringarmiesinto
the field, or who filled the peaceful city
with massacres and blood ? Are these mise
ries any other than the bitter fruit of men^s
violent and disorderly passions ? Are they
.not clearly to be traced to the ambition
and vices of princes, to the quarrels of the
great, and to the turbulence of the people .>
Let us lay them entirely out of the account
in thinking of Providence, and let us think
only of the foolishness of men. Did man
control
he'mtj: charo'cable on Themselves. 2(>0
control Ins passions, and from his conduct sekm.
. XIV
accortlinii to the dictates of wisdom, liiima- v..,.^,^
nity, and virtne, tlie earth wonld no longer
be desohited by cruelty ; and human so^
cieties would live in order, harmony, and
peace. In those scenes of mischief and
violence which fill the world, let man
behold with shame, the picture of his
vices, his ignorance and folly. Let him be
hund^led by this mortifying' view of his own
perversene^s ; but let not his heart fret
againt the JLord. From the external con-
dition, let us proceed.
II. To consider the internal state of
man. It is certain that much disquiet and
misery may be found there, although his
outward condition appear undisturbed and
easy. As far as tliis inward disquietude
arises from the stings of conscience, and
the horrors of guilt, there can be no doubt
of its being self-created misery ; which it
is altogether impossible to impute to Hea-
ven. Bat even, when great crimes^, and
deep remore, are not the occasion of tor-
ment, how often is poison infused into the
most flourishing conditions of fortune, by
the
270 On the .Misfortunes of 3Ien
SFRM. the follies and tlie passions of the ])ros|>er-
^^^' ous? We see them peevish and restless;
corrupted with luxury, and enervated by
ease ; impatient of the smallest disappoint-
ment ; oppressed with low spirits, and
complaining" of every thing around them*
How many Hamans, Hazaels, and Herods,
are there in the world, who, from what
they suffer within, pass their days in more
vexation and misery, than they who un-
dergo the hardships of poverty ? Dare
such men, in their most discontented mo-
ments, charge the Providence of Heayeu
with miseries of their own procuring ?
Providence had put into their hands the
fairest opportunity of passing their -life
with comfort. But they themselves blast-
ed every comfort that was offered ; and
verified the prediction, that ^/le/jrasperzVi/
of fools shall destroy them.
As it is man's own foolishness which
ruins his prosperity, we must not omit to
remark, that it is the same cause which
aggravates and embitters his adversity
That you sufferfrom the external afflictions
of the world, may often be owing to God's
appointment; but when, in the midst of
these.
>^VNi»
being chargeable 0)1 Themselves. 271
these, you also suiter from the disorders of skkm
your inind and passions, this is owing* to ^'^*
yourselves ; and they are tliose inward
disorders which add the severest sting to
external atHictions. Many are the resources
of a good and a wise man, under all the
disasters of life. In the midst of them it
is always in his power to enjoy peace of
Hiind, and hope in God. He may suffer;
but under suffering he will not sink, as
long as all is sotuid within. But when the
s^jirit has been wounded by guilt and folly,
its wounds open, and bleed afresh, upon
every blow that is received from the
world. The mind becomes sensible and
sore to the slightest injuries of fortune ;
and a small reverse is felt as an insupport-
able calamity.
On the whole, the farther you search
into human life, and the more you observe
the manners and the conduct of men, you
will be the more convinced of this great
truth, that of the distresses which abound
in the world, we are the c^iief authors.
Among the multitudes who are, at this
day, bewailing their condition and lot, it
will
272
On the Misfortunes of , Men
SERM. will be found to hold, of far the greater
SZl P^**^' tl^^t they are reaping- the fruit of
their own doings ; their iniquities are
reproving them, and their backslidings
correcting them. Unattainable objects
foolishly pursued, intemperate passions
nourished, vicious pleasures and desires
indulged, God and God's holy laws forgot-
ten ; these, these are the great scourges
of the world ; the great causes of the life
of man being so embroiled and unhappy.
God hath ordained our state on earth
to be a mixed and imperfect state. We
have ourselves to blame for its becoming-
an insupportable one. If it bring forth
nothing' to us but vexation and vanity, we
have sown the seeds of that vanity and
vexation; and as we have sown, we must
reap. I now proceed to make improve-
ment of those truths which we have been
considering'.
In the first place, let us be taught to look
u^on sin as the source of all our miseries.
It may sometimes assume the gentler
naDies of folly, irregularity, or levity ;
but under whatever form it appears, it
always
being' chargeable on Themselves. 273
always imports a deviation from that sacred sfrm.
law which ouglit to regulate our conduct. ^^^'
It is still the root that beareth gall and
wormwood'., and in exact proportion to the
quantity of this poisonous weed, which we
ourselves have infused into our cup, we
must expect to drink the waters of bitter-
ness. If the foolishness of man did not
pei'vert his ways, his heart would have no
occasion to fret against the Lord. He
would enjoy competent satisfaction in
every situation of life ; and, under its una-
voidable evils, would derive consolation
from religion and virtue. Indeed, of every
evil which we now endure, of those evils
which we look upon to be the appointment
of Providence, as well as of others, sin is
ultimately the cause ; as it was man's revolt
from God which gave rise originally to
those evils, and which rendered the chas-
tisements we undergo, in this state of
discipline, necessary, even for the sons of
God. But at present, we confine our
observation to those miseries of which
men are immediate procurers to them-
selves ; and from them alone, we find suffi-
cient reason to consider sin as the capital
VOL. IV. T fee
274 On the Misfortunes of Men
SBUM foe to man ; as the great troubler and
^^l\ disturber of his life. To Providence, then.
Jet us look up with reverence. On sin let
our indignation be vented ; and, what is
of more consequence, against sin, and all
its approaches, let our utmost caution be
employed. As we proceed through the
different paths of life, let us accustom our-
selves to beware of sin, as the hidden snake
lurking among the grass, from whose fatal
touch we must fly in haste, if we would
not experience its sting. Too many have
no just apprehensions of this danger.
Fools, said the wise man, make a mock at
sin. A fool indeed he must be, who dares
to think lightly of it. He shows not only
the depravity of his heart, but, what per-
haps he will be more ashamed to be charg-
ed with, he shows his ignorance of the
world. He shows that he knows not, he
understands not, even his worldly interest,
nor the interest and happiness of human
society.
In the second place, let us learn, from
what has been set forth, one of the most
awful and important of all truths, the rea-
lity
being chargeable on Themselves. 275
lity of a divine government exercised over sKfiM.
the world. Blind mnst that man be who ,^"^"
discerns not the most striking marks of it,
in the doctrine which has been under our
review. If there be a sceptic, who con-
tends, that unrestrained liberty in the gra-
tification of desire is given to man; that,
in the sight of his Creator all actions are
equal ; and that no rule of moral conduct
hath been prescribed, or by an penalty
enforced ; in order to confute such a inan,
we have not recourse to reasonings, but
simply appeal to plain and^obvious facts.
We bid him look only to the life of man,
and take notice how every vice is, by the
constitution of things, connected v/ith
misery. We bid him trace the history o\
any one, with whose conduct he had par-
ticular occasion to be acquainted ; and
observe, whether the chief misfortunes
which pursued him were not brought upon
him by his own misbehaviour. We bid
him remark, in the history of natinns,
whether public virtue has not always ex-
alted them; and whether licenticusness
and crimes have not paved the way for
their rain. These are testimonies to the
T 2 truth
276 On the Misfortunes of Men
SERM.truth of religion, which cannot by any
^^^* sophistry be evaded. This is a voice which
speaks its warnings loud and strong to
every heart.
The system upon which the divine go-
vernment at present proceeds plainJv is,
that men's own wickedness should be ap-
pointed to correct them ; that sinners
should he snared in the work of their
hands, and sunk in the pit ivhich them"
selves had digged ; that the backslider in
heart should be filed with his oivn ways.
Of all the plans which could have been
devised for the government of the world,
this approves itself to reason, as the wisest
and most worthy of God ; so to frame the
constitution of things, that the divine laws
should in a manner execute themselves,
and carry their sanctions in their own
bosom. When the vices of men require
punishment to be inflicted, the Almighty is
at no loss for ministers of justice. A thou-
sand instruments of vengeance are at his
command ; innumerable arrows are always
in his quiver. But such is the profound
wisdom of his plan, that no peculiar inter-
posals
being chargeable on Themselves- 271
posals of power are requisite. He has iioserm,
. XIV
occasion to step from his throne, iind to ^^
interrupt the order of nature. Witii that
majesty and solemnity which befits Omni-
potence, He pronounces, Ephraim is joined
to his idols ; let him alone. He leaves
transgressors to their own guilt, and pu-
nishment follows of course. Their sins do
the work of justice. They lift the scourge ;
and with every stroke which they inflict on
the criminal, they mix this severe admoni-
tion, that as he is only reaping the fruit of
his own actions, he deserves all that he
suffers. From what has been said, 1 might
take occasion.
In the third place, to show the injustice
of our charging Providence with a promis-
cuous and unequal distribution of its fa-
vours among the good and the bad. That
unequal distribution takes place in ap-
pearance only, not in reality. The whole
conduct of Providence sufficiently marks,
which of those classes of men it blesses and
protects. The prosperity of sinners is no
more than a deceitful show. The great
T 3 materials
XIV
278 On the Misfortunes of Men
sf liM iiiatenals of happiness are provided for the
virtuous ; and evil never fails to pursue the
tvicked. I shall close the discourse with
observing.
In the fourth and last ijlace, the neces-
sity which plainly arises from our present
condition, of looking up to God for direc-
tion and aid in the conduct of life. The
result of the whole doctrine I have now
delivered is, that man's happiness or misery
is, in a great measure, put into his own
hands. In vain he complains of Provi-
dence. If his heart fret against the Lord,
it is only because his foolishness hath per^
verted his way : for on himself, and his
own behaviour, it depends to be free of
those miseries which harass the wicked.
But, alas I when we see that this depends
upon man, on what uncertain ground do
we place his security ! Is man, when left to
himself, equal to this high trust that is
reposed in him, this important charge that
is committed to him, of attaining happi-
ness, by wise and irreproachable conduct ?
Inconstant as he is in virtue, variable in
his
w%-^
being cha7'i>fablc on Themselves. 279
Ills resolutions, soft and yit-ldins^ in liissEitM..
nature to a thousand temptations ; how ^^
sliall he guide himself through such slip-
pery and dangerous paths as those of
human life; where many hidden preci-
pices surround him ; many false lights
lead him astray ; and where the conse-
quence of every step he takes may be
destruction and ruin. Thankful let us
be to Heaven, that in this situadon, a
merciful guide stretches out his hand to
aid us; that a celestial light shines upon us
from above ; that a divine Spirit is promis-
ed to illuminate and strengthen us. Let
us humbly request of Heaven, that this
Spirit of the Almighty may ever be our
guide ; never presumptuously trusting in
our own wisdom, but listening attentively
to the voice of God; and in all our ivays
acknowledging Him, who only can direct
our steps. Upon the whole, let us hold
fast the persuasion of these fundamen-
tal truths ; — that in all his dispensations,
God is just and good ; that the cause
of all the troubles we suffer is in our-
selves, not in him ; that virtue is the surest
T 4 guide
280 On the Misfortunes of Men, Sfc.
SERM. guide to a bappy life ; that he who foF-
^JJ^ sakes this guide, enters upon the path of
death ; but that he who walketh upright-
ly, walketh surely ; and that he who
keepeth the commandments, keepeth his
own soul
[ 281 J
SERMON XV.
On Integrity as the Guide of Life.
Proverbs xi. 3.
The integrity of the upright shall guide
them. —
RIGHTEOUSNESS and sin are, m serm,
lliis book of Proverbs, frequently ^^
contrasted with each other, and the advan-
tages of the former displayed . The righte-
ous man is shown to be more excellent than
his neighbour, as the ways in which he
walks are ways of pleasantness ; w hile the
way of transgresssors is hard. Honour is
represented as attending the one, while
shame
282 On Integrity as
SRRM. shame is the portion of the other. The
^\ path of the one leads to life ; that of the
other to destruction. In the text, an ad-
vantage of righteousness is specified, which
is not commonly attended to, and which
some wil 1 not readily allow that it possesses .
We are told by the wise man, that it affords
light and direction to conduct, and will
prove our best guide through all the intri-
cacies of life. The integrity of the upright
shall guide them; or as it is added, to the
same purpose, in a following verse, the
righteousness of the perfect shall direct
his way. There are many who will admit,
that integrity is an amiable quality ; that
it is entitled to much respect, and in most
cases ought to influence our behaviour;
who nevertheless are unwilling to allow it
the chief place in the direction of their
worldly conduct- They hold, that a cer-
tain artful sagacity, founded upon know-
ledge of the world, is the best conductor
of every one who would be a successful
adventurer in life ; and that a strict atten-
tion to integrity, as his only guide, would
often lead him into danger and distress.
In opposition to tenets of this kind, I now
purpose
the Guide of Life. 283
purpose to sliow that, amidst all perplexi- sfum
■ 1 'XV
ties and dangers, there is no guide we can
choose so safe, and so successful on the
wliole, as the integrity ot an upright iriind ;
and that upon every trying occasion, prin-
ciples of probity and honour will conduct
a good man through life with more advan-
tage, than if he were to act upon the most
refined system of worldly wisdom.
It will not take much time to delineate
the character of the man of integrity, as by
its nature it is a plain one, and easily under-
stood. He is one who makes it his constant
rule to follow the road of duty, according
as the word of God, and the voice of his
conscience, point it out to him. He is not
guided merely by affections, which may
sometimes give the colour of virtue to a
oose and unstable character. The upright
man is guided by a fixed principle of
mind, which determines him to esteem
nothing but what is honourable, and to
abhor whatever is base and unworthy in
moral conduct. Hence you find him ever
the same ; at all times, the trusty friend,
the afl'ectionate relation, the conscientious
man of business, the pious worsliipper, tlie
public
284 On Integrity as
SERM. public 'spirited citizen. He assumes no
J^ borrowed appearance. He seeks no mask
to cover him ; for he acts no studied part ;
but he is in truth what he appears to be,
full of truth, candour, and humanity. In
all his pursuits, he knows no path but the
fair and direct one ; and would much rather
fail of success, than attain it by reproachful
means. He never shows you a smiling
countenance, while he meditates evil a-
gainst you in his heart. He never praises
you among your friends, and then joins in
traducing you among your enemies. You
will never find one part of his character at
variance with another. In his manners he
is simple and unaffected ; in all his pro-
ceedings open and consistent. — Such is the
man of integrity spoken of in the text.
Let us now proceed to show, in what man-
ner, and with what effect, integrity serves
for the guide of his life.
Every one who has begun to make any pro-
gress in the world will be sensible, that to
conduct himself in human affairs with wis-
dom and propriety, is often a matter of no
small difficulty. Amidst that variety of
characters, of jarring dispositions, and of
interferiftp
the Guide of Life. 285
interfering interests, which take place a- serm.
mong' those with whom we have inter-
course, we are frequently at a stand as to
the part most prudent for us to choose.
Ignorant of what is passing in the breast
of those around us, we can form no more
than doubtful conjectures concerning the
events that are likely to happen. They
may take some turn altogether different
from the course in which we have imagined
they were to run, and according to which
we had formed our plans. The slightest
incident often shoots out into important
consequences, of which we were not aware.
The labyrinth becomes so intricate, that
the most sagacious can lay hold on no clue
to guide him through it : He finds himself
embarrassed, and at a loss how to act.— In
public and private life, in managing our
own concerns, and in directing those of
others, the doubt started by the wise man
firequently occurs; Who knoweth what is
good for man in this life? While thus
fatigued with conjecture, we remain per-
plexed and undetermined in our choice ;
we are at the same time pulled to ditferent
sides, by the various emotions which belong
to
286 On Integnii/ as
iSFiiM. to our nature. On one hand, pleasure
^ alJures us to what is agreeable: on the
other, interest weighs us down towards
what seems gainful. Honour attracts iis
towards what is splendid ; and indohiiice
inclines us to what is easy. In the con-
sultations which we hold with our own
mind concerning our conduct, how often
are we thus divided within ourselves ;
puzzled by the uncertainty of future events,
and distracted by the contest of diffftrent
inclinations?
It is in such situations as these, that the
principle of integ-rity interposes to give
light and direction. While worldly men
fluctuate in the midst of those perplexities
which 1 have described, the virtuous man
has one oracle, to which he resorts in every
dubious case, and whose decisions he holds
to be infallible. He consults his consci-
ence. He listens to the voice of God.
Were it only on a few occasions that this
Oracle could be consulted, its value would
be less. But it is a mistake to imagine,
that its responses are seldom given. Hard-
ly is there any material transaction what-
ever in human life, any important question
that
tlie Guide of Life. 287
that holds us in suspense as to practice, serm.
but the difference between right and wrong
will show itself; and the principal of inte-
grity will, if we listen to it impartially,
give a clear decision. Whenever the mind
is divided within itself, conscience is seldom
or never neutral. There is always one
side or other to which it leans. There is
always one scale of the balance into which
it throws the weight of some virtue, or some
praise ; of something that is just and true,
lovely, honest, and of good report. These
are the forms which rise to the observation
of the upright man. By others they may
be unseen, or over-looked, but in his eye,
the lustre of virtue out-shines all other
brightness. Wherever this pole-star directs
him, he steadily holds his course. — Let the
issue of that course be ever so uncertain ;
let his friends differ from him in opinion ;
\ et his enemies clamour ; he is not moved,';
bis purpose is fixed. He asks but one
question of his heart, What is the most
worthy and honourable part? what is the
part most becoming the station which he
possesses, the character which he wishes to
bear, the expectations which good men
entertain
288 On Integrity as
s>f:rm. entertain of him ? Being once decided as
^^' to this, he hesitates no more. He shuts
his ears against every solicitation. He
pursue? the direct line of integrity, without
turning- either to the right hand or to the
left. It is the Lord who caUeth. Him 1
follow. Let him order what seemeth good
in his sight. — It is in this 7nanner that
the integrity of the upright acts as their
guide.
But as, upon a superficial view, it may
appear hazardous to place ourselves en-
tirely under such a guide, let us now
proceed to consider what can be said in
defence of this plan of conduct, and what
advantages serve to recommend it.
In the first place, I affirm, that the gui-
dance of integrity is the safest under which
we can be placed ; that the road in which
it leads us is, upon the whole, the freest
from dangers. Perfect immunity from
danger is not to be expected in this life.
We can choose no path, in which we may
noc meet with disappointments and misfor-
tunes. Our life, at the best, is a pilgrim-
age, and perils surround it. Against these
perils.
the Guide of Life. 281)
j)erils, tlie men of the world imagine that serm
craft and dexterity furnish the best defence ; ^^
and if, in any instance, they over-reach the .
upright, they consider it as a manifest de-
cision in favour of their plan. But instead
of resting- on a few instances, let us take an
extensive survey of the course of human
affairs. Let us inquire who the persons
are, that, in all the different lines of life,
have gone through the world with most
success ; and we shall tind that the men of
probity and honour form by far the most
considerable part of the list ; v. e shall find
that men of plain understanding, acting
upon fair and direct views, have much
oftener prospered, than men of the deepest
policy, who were devoid of principle. How
few are the instances, of persons, \^ ho by
fidelity, worth, and stedfast adliereuce to
their duty, have either lost their fortunes,
or incurred general displeasure, in times
when human affairs were proceeding in
their ordinary train ? But how numerous
and frequent are the examples of those
whose prospects have been blasted, whose
circumstances have been ruined, and their
VOL. IV. U . names
290 On Integriti) as
S.KRM. names sunk into contempt, by vice and
J^^* dishonesty?
The man of the world aims at higher
things, and more rapid success, than the
man of moderation and virtue. But, at
the same time, he incurs greater risks and
dangers. No calculation of probabilities
can insure safety to hira who is acting a
deceitful part. Amidst the unforeseen
vicissitudes of the world, he has to dread
not only disappointment to his plans, but
the miseries also which detected fallacies
may bring on his head. He walks on the
edge of precipices, where a single false
step may be fatal. He follows a wander-
ing light, which, if it fail of guiding him
by a short path to the palace of ambition,
lands him in the pit or the lake. Where-
as he who follows the guidance of integrity,
walks in the high road on which the light
of the sun shines. He sees before him the
habitation of peace to which his steps are
directed ; and if he be longer of arriving at
it, he is sure of neither wandering far astraj'',
nor of meeting on his road with any forms
of unusual terror. Let it he always re-
membered, that the principle of integrity,
which
the Guide of Life. 291
hich directs a g^ood man, is far from ex- sekm.
eluding- prudence in the conduct of life. It J^^^
implies no improvident or thoughtless sim-
plicity. On the contrary, it is closely
connected with true wisdom. A man of
enlarged capacity, and extensive views,
is always upright. Craft is merely the
supplement of inferior abilities. It cha-
racterizes a narrow comprehension, and
a little mind. As the path of integrity
is on the whole the safest path of con-
duct; so.
In the second place, it is unquestionably
the most honourable. Integrity is the
foundation of all that is high in character
among mankind. Other qualities may add
to its splendour ; but if this essential requi-
site be wanting, all their lustre fades.
Were I drawing the character of one who
claimed the admiration of the world ; and
after I had ascribed to him eloquence,
valour, and every endowment that is most
shining and captivating, did I add, that he
was a man of too much art to be trusted, I
appeal to every one, whether by this single
stroke, the whole character would not be
U 2 sunk
292 On Integrity as
SERM. sunk and degraded? An interested and
^-^ crafty man may perhaps rise into influence
and high station ; he may be a rich and a
powerful, but will never be a great, man.
He may be feared, and externally honoured
and courted ; but in the secret thoughts
of men he finds no respect. We all feel
thatmagnanimous sentiments cannot dwell
in the same breast with selfishness and
deceit.
He who rests upon an internal principle
of virtue and honour, will act with a dignity
and a boldness, of which they are incapa-
ble who are wholly guided by interest.
He is above those timid suspicions, and
cautious restraints, which fetter and embar-
rass their conduct. That firmness, which
the consciousness of rectitude inspires,
gives vigour and force to his exertions on
every great occasion. It adds double
weight to all the abilities of which he is
possessed. It even supplies the place of
those abilities in which he is defective.
They who oppose him are obliged to honour
him. They look up to him with a secret
awe, as to one who moves above them in
a superior sphere ; regardless of their good
or
the Guide of Life. 293
or ill opinion, of tlieir promises or their serm.
threaten in gs: like one of those celestial ;^^
luninaries which holds its course through
its orbit, without being' alFected by any
connnotions among the elements below.
Such a man is trusted, and relied upon, as
well as esteemed, because all know where
to find him, and upon what system he
acts. He attaches friends and followers
to himself, without courting them ; and
though his i)rogress towards fame should
be slow and interrupted at first by crooked
arts, it is nevertheless certain and sure-
The public may be misled for a while, in
judging- of real merit, but it is seldom un-
just at the last. As persons continue to
come forward to view, and to act their part
in trying circumstances, their characters
are, at length fully ascertained; and, al*
most always, rated as they deserve. How
corru|)t soever the world may be, they can-
not withhold approbation from him, whose
conduct is marked by uniform integrity
and honour. Enemies he will have, but
the public favours him; the multitude of
men wish him success, and destine him, in
U 3 their
294 On Integrity as
SERM their thoughts, to every step of his prefer-
^^^ ment, before he arrives at it.
In the third place, the plan of conduct
on which the man of integrity proceeds is
the most comfortable ; that is, attended
with the greatest satisfaction in a man's
own mind. Amidst the various and per-
plexing events of life, it is of singular ad-
vantage to be kept free from doubt, as to
the part most proper to be chosen. He,
who consults nothing but worldly interest,
must, upon every turn of fortune, undergo
much painful suspense. He is obliged to
listen with anxious ear to every whisper of
report; and upon every new aspect which
the face of affairs assumes, must study how
to place himself in a new posture of defence.
But the man of principle is a stranger to
these inward troubles. His time is not
lost, nor his temper fretted, by long and
anxious consultations. One light always
shines upon him from above. One path,
the path of integrity, always opens clear
and distinct to his view.— But this is not
his only advantage to be freed from em-
barassments, by having placed himself
under
the Guide of Life. 29f
under the charge of one constant guide, ser-m.
He is also rewarded witli the sense of
Jiaving' chosen his guide well and wisely.
He is delivered from all inward npbraid-
ings, from all misgivings of mind, from all
alarms founded on the dread of discovery
and disgrace. A ^ood conscience enables
him to look back on tlie part which he has
acted witn satisfaction ; and to look for-
ward to the issue which it may bring" with-
out concern. It is in the case of one issue
only, that the man who acts from worldly
interest can enjoy satisfaction ; that is,
when his designs have succeeded according
to his wish. But it is the felicity of the
man who acts under the direction of inte-
grity that, in every issue, he hassomethiug
to comfort him. Though success has failed
him, the consolation remains of having
done his duty, and studied to approve him-
self to God.
This reference, of all his actions to Di-
vine a])probation, furnishes another source
of satisfaction and peace. He looks up,
with pleasing hope to a protector in the
heavens, who loveth 7'ighteousness, and
whose countenance beholdeth the upright.
U 4 The
296 On Integrity as
SERM. The man of worldly wisdom is conscious
,^^ of having no title to the favour of that high
administration which rules the universe.
By quitting the path of righteousness, he
has left the straight road, in which God
had appointed him to walk. He has taken
the direction of his way to himself, and
chosen to be his owji guide and master.
To bis own abilities, therefore, such as
tliey are, he must trust ; and is becojne
wholly responsible for the issue of his con-
duct. But the man of virtue hath commit-
ted his way io the Loid. He follows the
Divine signal. He co-operates with the
Divine purpose. The power which sways
the universe is engaged on his side. By
natural consequence he has ground to
expect, that any seeming disappointments
which he may now incur, shall be over-
ruled at the end to some salutary effect.
Hence that peace of God keeping the
heart, to which worldly men are strangers.
Hence a degree of firmness and resolution
in conduct, which it is impossible for them
to possess. Especially when we add.
In the fourth aud last place, that he who
thus
tlie Guide of Life. 297
tliiis pursues a course of integrity, has serm,
always in his view the prospect otiiumoi- ^^^
tal rewards. That surely is the wisest
direction of conduct, which is most amply
recompensed at last. But what recom-
pence can worldly wisdom bestow, compar-
able to what is promised by the gospel to
them who, by patient continuance in well-
doing, look for glory, honour, and immor-
tality. The recompence indeed is distant,
but the hope of it is present ; and hope is
one of the most powerful principles of
human action. Let a man be firm in the
belief that he is acting' under the immediate
protection of Heaven, and that through all
eternity he sliall be rewarded for what he
now performs ; and, as far as this belief is
prevalent, his conduct will be steady and
determined. Wherever religion directs
him to hold his course, he will advance
with intrepidity. He will submit to re-
straints witiiout reluctance. He will meet
dangers without fear. To every motive
which reason suggests in favour of virtue,
the hope of life eternal adds supernatural
strength. Accordingly, in the behaviour
of many holy men, under the most trying
circumstances
298 On Integrity as
ST^RM. circumstances of distress, we behold this
^^'- effect eminently exemplified. It appears,
with much lustre, in the spirited and
magnanimous sentiments of the Apostle
Paul, when he had the prospect of death
before him. Behold 1 go bound in the
spirit to Jerusalem, not knowing the
things that shall befal me there, save that
the Holy Ghost wit nesseth, that bonds and
afflictions abide me. But none of these
things move me ; neither count I my life
dear unto myself so that 1 may finish my
course zvith joy. 1 am now ready to be
offered, and the time of my departure is
at hand. 1 have fought a good fight ; /
have finished my course ; I have kept the
faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me
a crown of righteousness, which the Lord
the righteous Judge, shall give me at that
day-
Thus I have endeavoured to show in
what manner the integrity of the upright
guides them ; and what the advantages
are of placing ourselves under its guidance.
If it be the line of safety, or the line of
honour, which we choose to pursue ; if we
consult
the Guide of Life. 290
co*^sult our present co nfort, or look for- serm.
ward to future rewards; in all these re- ^^^
spects the course which integrity points
out is by far the most eligible.
It is a great recommendation of the gui-^
dance offered to us by integrity, that it is
easily understood by all men. Plans of
worldly policy are deep and intricate ; and
experience shows how often the ablest
persons are mistaken in the measures which
they adopt for carrying them on. But when
men's intentions are fair and upright, it will
be found, that a moderate share of under-
standing and attention is all that is requi-
site, for conducting themselves with safety
and propriety. Providence never intended,
that the art of living happily in this world
should depend on that deep penetration,
that acute sagacity, and those refinements
of thought, which few possess. It has
dealt more graciously with us ; and made
happiness to depend on uprightness of in-
tention, much more than on extent of capa-
city. For the most part, the first sentiment
which strikes a good man, concerning what
he ought or ought not to do, is the soundest,
and suggests the best and wisest counsel.
When
300 On Integrity as
SEEM. When he hesitates, and begins to deliber
^^ ate how far his duty, or his honour can be
reconciled to what seems his interest, he
is on the point of deviating into a dangerous
path. At the same time, it is of great con-
sequence, that he who seeks to surrender
his conduct to the direction of integrity,
should be well apprized of what true inte-
grity requires. Let him guard against
burdening conscience unnecessarily, lest
a superstitious regard to trifles lead him to
relax in matters of higher obligation. Let
him avoid minute scrupulosity on the one
hand. Let him keep at a distance from
loose casuistry on the other. But when he
is satisfied that his conscience has been
well informed, let him, without wavering,
adhere to its dictates in the whole of his
condnct. This will prove the truest wis-
dom both for this world and the next.
For he who walketh uprightly walketh
surely. The path of the just is as the
shining light : And it shall shine more and
more unto the perfect day.
[ 301 ]
SERMON XVI.
On Submission to the Divine Wil»
Job ii. 10.
Shall we receive good at the hand of God,
and shall we not receive evil.
F
T'EW subjects of religious exhortation serm.
"XVT
are more of general concern titan ".
those which respect the distresses incident
to human life. For no society, no family,
no person, can expect to be long exempted
from them ; and wlien we speak of the
prosperous, we can only mean those who
are more rarely subject to them than others.
Now, under those distresses religion per-
forms
302 On Submission to
SERM. forms two offices: it teaches us how we
XVI. ought to bear them ; and it assists us in
thus bearing them. Materials for both
are found in the words of the text, whicli
contain a sentiment so natural and just,"^
as to carry conviction to every reasonable
mind. They were the words of Job, at a
time when, to his other calamities, this
domestic affliction was added, that one who
ought to have assuaged and soothed his
sorrows, provoked his indignation by an
impious speech. Thou speakest, Job re-
plies, as one of the foolish women speaketh:
Whai ! shall we receive good at the hand
of God, and shall we not receive evil?
Three instructions naturally arise from the
text: First, That this life is a mixed state
of good and evil: Secondly, That both the
goods and the evils in it proceed from God :
And, thirdly. That they are just reasons
for our receiving with patience the evils of
life, from the same hand which bestows its
good.
I. This life is a mixed state of good and
evil. This is a matter of fact, which will
be denied by none, and on which it is not
necessary
the Divine Will. 303
necessary to bestow mucli illustration. ItsERM.
is evident to the slightest inspection, tha
nothing here is unallayed and pure. Every
man's sfate is chequered with alternate
griefs and joys, disappointment and suc-
cess. No condition is altogether stable-
No life preserves always the same tenor-
The vicissitudes of the world sometimes
bring forward the afflicted into more com-
fortable circumstances, and often trouble
the joy of the prosperous. This is the train
in which human affairs have ever been found
to proceetl ; and in which we may expect
them to go on.
But though this be universally admitted
in speculation, and often confessed in dis-
course, the misfortune is, that few think of
applying it to their own case. The bulk
of mankind discover as much confidence
in prosperity, and as much impatience un-
der the least reverse, as if Providence had
first given them assurance that their pros-
perity was never to change, and afterwards
had cheated their hopes. Whereas, what
reason ought to teach us, is to adjust our
mind to the mixed state in which we find
ourselves placed ; never to presume^ nevei
to
304 On Submission to
SERM. to despair ; to be thankful for the coods
XVI •
^_^ which at present we enjoy, and to expect
the evils that may succeed. Thou hast
been admitted to partake of the feast of
Jife. Its good things are distributed in va-
rious portions among tlie guests. Thou
hast had thine allotted share. Complain
not when thy portion is removed. It is
not j)ermitted to any one to remain always
at the banquet.
II. We are taught by the text, that both
the goods and the evils which compose
this mixed state come from the hand of
God. A little reflection may convince us
that in God's world, neither good nor evil
can happen by chance. If there were any
one moment, in which God quitted the
reins of the iniiverse, and suffered any
power to interfere with his administration,
it is evident, that from that moment, the
measures of his government must become
disjointed and incomplete. He who go-
verns all things, must govern continually ;
and govern the least things as well as the
greatest. He never slumbers nor sleeps.
T Lere are no void sp'aces, no broken plans,
m
the Divine Will. 305
in his administration ; no blessini^s that sf.km.
drop npon us without his intention ; nor ^^^"
any crosses that visit us, unsent by liiai.
/ am the Lord, and there is none else. I
form the light, and ereate darkness. I
make peace and create evil. I the Lord do
all these things.
How it has come to pass, that this life
should contain such a mixture of goods
and evils, and that the mixture too should
be of God's appointment, gives rise to a
difficult inquiry. For how can any thing"
but what is good proceed from tlie God of
love. Can darkness issue from the source
of light? or can it be any satisfaction to the
leather of mercies, to behold the sorrows
of creatures whom he has made.— Here
there was room for much perplexity, till
revelation informed us, that the mixture
of evils in man's estate is owing to man
himself. Had he continued as God origi-
nally made him, he would have received
nothing but good from his Creator. His
apostacy and corruption opened the gates
of the tabernacle of darkness. Misery
issued forth, and has ever since pursued
him. In the present condition of his na-
voL. IV. X tnre.
306 On Submission to
SFJiM. ture, that misery is partly punish nie»»t,
%jr ITT
_^ partly trial. He is become incapable of
bearing uninterrupted prosperity ; and by
the mixture of evils in his lot, merciful de-
signs are carried on for his improvement
and restoration.
What the text leads us at present to
consider is, the effect that will follow from
imitating the example of Job, and refer-
ring to the hand of the Almighty the evils
which we suffer, as well as the goods v. hich
we enjoy. Such a reference of the dis-
tressful events of our life to the appoint-
ment of Heaven, not only is a duty which
piety requires, but tends also to mitigate
distress, and to suggest consolation. For
to dwell, as is too commonly done, upon
the instruments and subordinate means of
our trouble, is frequently the cause of much
grief, and much sin. When we view our
sufferings as proceeding merely from our
fellow-creatures, the part which they have
acted in bringing them upon us, is often
more grating than the suffering itself.
The unreasonableness, perhaps, of an ene-
my, the treachery of a friend, the ingrati-
tude
Ike JJpvlne Will. 307
Uu\e or insolence of one whom we had serm.
much obliged, add weight to a load laid ^^^
upon IKS by means so provoking. The
thoughts of their malignity, or of our own
neglect in guarding against it, serve to poi-
son the sore. Whereas, if instead of look-
ing to men, we beheld the cross as coming
fi'om God, these aggravating circumstances
would affect us less ; we would feel no
more than a proper burden ; we would
submit to it more patiently; and many
resources would open to us, as shall in
a little be shown, from thinking of the
hand that lays it on. Had Job, when
dispoiled of all his substance, thought of
nothing but the Chaldeans and Sabeans
who robbed him, with what violent pas-
sions would he have been transported, and
with what eager desires of revenge tor-
mented? Whereas, considering tliem as
rods and instruments only in the Divine
hand, and receiving the correction as from
the Almighty himself, the tumult of his
mind subsided ; and with respectful com-
posure he could say. The Lord gave;
and the JLord hath taken away: Bles-
X 2 sed
»3()8 On Submission to
sERM.^ec? be the name of the Lord I This
:i^, leads me,
III. To consider the last, and most im-
portant instruction, arising from the text ,
namely, that there are many reasons why
we, who receive good from the hand of
God, should receive with patience the
evils which he is pleased to inflict. This
is strongly conveyed by that interrogatory
form of speech, in which the sentiment of
Job is expressed : What ? shall we receive
good at the hand of God, and shall we not
receive evil? In order to unfold all that is
contained in this appeal made to every
man's conscience, let us consider,
In the first place, That the good things
wliich God has bestowed, afford sufiicient
evidence for our believing, that the evils
which he sends are not causelessly or wan-
tonly inflicted. Did we live in a world
which bore the marks of a malicious or
cruel governor, there might be reason for
distrusting every step of his conduct. But
in the world which we inhabit, we behold,
on the contrary, plain marks of predomi-
nant
the Divine Will 309
naut goodness. We beliold the structure sfjim.
of the universe, the order of nature, the ^^^•
general course of Providence, obviously
arranged witli a benevolent regard to the
welfare of men. All the art and contriv-
ance of which the Divine works are full,
point to this end ; and the more they are
explored, create the firnier belief, that the
goodness of the Deity gave rise to the sys-
tem of creation. What is the conclusion
to be thence drawn, but that in such parts
of the Divine administration, as appear to
us harsh and severe, the same goodness
continues to preside, thong li exercised in a
hidden and mysterious manner ?
Let me desire you to consider, whether,
if some powerful friend had placed you in
an opulent and comfortable station, and in
the general conduct of your affairs, had
discovered the most disinterested kindness,
you would not ascribe any occasional dis-
couragements you received, to some un-
known reason or cause, rather than to his
unfaithfulness or crueltv. Ouerht not the
experience which we have had, and the
discovery which all nature affords, of the
Divine goodness, to lead us to put a like
. X 3 construction
810 On Submission to
SKUM. construction on the evils which we suffer
^^ tVom a hand that hath so frequently loaded
us with good ? Have we forgotten, in the
midst of our complaints, who brought us
into the light of day ; who watched over
our helpless infancy; who reared our grow-
ing childhood, and through ten thousand
surrounding dangers, has been our protec-
tor and guardian until this day ? How
often has he rescued us from sickness and
death, and made our hearts glad with
unexpected comforts. Now, that some
cloud is thrown over our prosperity, or
some blessing withdrawn, in which for a
time we had rejoiced, can we imagine that
there is no good cause for this change ot
his proceeding. Shall we suspect that his
nature is entirely altered? Hath God
forgotten to be gracious f Hath he in
anger shut up his tender tnercies? No;
let us say with the Psalmist, This is my
infirmity, hut I will remember the ivorks
of the Lord. 1 will remember the years
of the right hand of the AH ost High- One
signal work of the Most High, at least, let
us remember, and rejoice in the remei!?-
brance of it ; even that final remedy which
he
the Divine Will. ^H
lie has provided for all tlie evils occasioned shKivi,
})y sin, in the redemption of the world ^^'
accomplished by Jesns Christ. He who
spared not his own Son, but delivered him
vp for us all, will he, in any case, wantonly
aftiict the children of men with superfluous
and unnecessary sorrows? Is not this a^,
proof so satisfactory, so express and de-
monstrative, of the gracious purposes of
God, as should dispose us to take in good
j)art every thing which proceeds from him ?
Consider,
In the second i)lace, That the good things
we receive from God are undeserved, the
evils we suffer are justly merited. Every
reasonable person must feel the weight of
this consideration, for producing patience
and submission. For, though to suffer at
any rate be grievous, yet to suffer unjustly
is doubly galling. Whereas, when one
receives a mixed potion, whereof the goods
are above his deserts, and the evils below
his deserts, to complain, in such a case, is
unreasonable; there is more ground for
being thankful. All, it is true, have not
deserved evil equally. Yet all of us de-
X 4 serve
312 On Submission to
SERM. serve it more or less ; and to iiierit good at
3^^ the hand of the Lord, is what none of us
can pretend. At the best we are but un-
profitable servants. Even this is more
than we are entitled to claim. For if God
were to enter into judgment with us, who
could stand before him? who could justify
him in his sight? When the most inof-
fensive compare their conduct with God's
holy law ; when they reflect upon the
duties they have omitted, and the actual
guilt they have contracted, they will find
more reason to accuse themselves, than
to complain of the Divine chastisement.
Whatever innocence any of us may plead,
nay, whatever merit we may claim, with
respect to men and the world, we suffer no
more than what we deserve from the Gover-
nor of the world ; and of his displeasure,
we know that the wrath of man is no other
than the instrument.
Not only all of us have done evil, but
what ought to be particularly attended to,
God has a just title to punish us for it.
Although a man know that he deserves
punishment, yet he will not allow every
one to inflict it. A child will submit to
his
the Divine Will. 313
his parents, a servant to his master, a sub- serm.
ject to the magistrate, when lie would not ^^
bear oorrection from another hand. But
no parent can have so complete a right to
authority over his children, no master over
Iiis servants, no inagistrateover his subjects,
as the Almighty hath over us. When we
were born, we brought nothing with us into
GocVs world. During our continuance in
it, we have lived on the good things which
God was pleased to lend us ; and of which
God and our own conscience know that we
have made but a sorry improvement. When
he thinks proper to take any of them away,
no wrong is done us ; for they were not
ours. To have enjoyed them so long, was
a favour. To enjoy them always was what
we neither deserved, nor had any title to
expect.
Tn the third place. The good things,
which at different times we have received
and enjoyed, are much greater than the
evils which we suffer. Of this fact, I am
sensible it will be difficult to persuade the
afflicted. But would they weigh, in a fair
balance, the whole of their circumstances,
they
314 On Submission to
SERM. they would find it true. Whatever persons
^]^ feel at the present, makes so strong' an im-
j)ression upon them, as very commonly
to obliterate the memory of all the past.
When one is impressed with some painful
disease in his body, or wrung" with some
sore distress of mind, every former com-
fort, at that moment, goes for nothing.
Life is beheld in all its gloom. A dark
cloud seeiiis to hang over it; and it is re-
viled, as no other than a scene of wretch-
edness and sorrow. But this is to be unjust
to human life, as well as ungrateful to its
author. Let me only desire you to think
how many days, how many months, how
many years you have passed in health, and
ease, and comfort ; how many pleasurable
feelings you have had ; how many friends
you have enjoyed ; how many blessings,
in short, of different kinds you have tasted;
and you will be forced to acknowledge,
that more materials of thanksgiving pre-
sent themselves, than of lamentation and
complaint. These blessings, you will say,
are past. But though past, ought they to
be gone from your remembrance? Do
they merit no place, in the comparative
estimate
the Divine Will. 315
estimate of the goods and evils of yoiirsFRM.
state? Did yon, could yon, expect, that ^^
in this mutable world, any temporal joy
was to last for ever? Has «»ratitude no
influence to form your minds to a calm
acquiescence in your benefactor's ajipoint*
ments? What can be more reasonable
than to say, Having in former times re-
ceived so many good things front the hand
of God, shall 1 not now, without murmur-
ing, receive the few evils which it pleases
him to send.
In the fourth place, Not only the goods
of life are, upon the whole, greater than
its evils ; but the evils which we sufler are
seldom, or never, without some mixture ot
good. As there is no condition on earth of
pure umnixed felicity, so there is none so
miserable as to be destitute of every com-
fort. Entire; and complete misery, if ever
it take place, is of our own procuring, not
of God's sending. None but the most
gross and atrocious sinners can be in such
a situation, as to discover no ray of relief
or hope. In the ordinary distresses of life,
it is generally our own folly and intirmity
which f
3! 6 On Submission to
SERM. which, upon the loss of some one blessing
^^' that we had hij^hly prized, deprives us of
satisfaction in all other things. Many of
our calamities are purely imaginary, and
self-created ; arising' from rivalship or com-
petition with others, and from false opinions
of the importance of objects, to which cus-
tom and fashion have annexed an ideal
value. Were these mistaken opinions
once corrected by reason, the evil would
disappear, and contentment would resume
its place. With respect to those calamities
which are inflicted by God, his Providence
has made this wise and merciful constitu-
tion, that after the first shock, the burden
by degrees is lightened. Time brings a
gentle and powerful opiate to all misfor-
tunes. What is very violent cannot last
long ; and what lasts long we become ac-
customed to bear. Every situation that is
permanent, at length is felt to be tolerable.
The mind accommodates itself to it ; and
by degrees regains its usual tranquillity.
Hence the greatest part of the evils of life
are more terrible in the previous apprehen-
sion, than in the actual feeling ; and it
seldom happens but, in one corner or other,
something
the Divine Will .317
something is found on which the mind can seijm.
lay hold for its relief ^^
How many, for instance, do we beliold
around us, straitened in their worldly cir-
cumstances, and yet finding the means to
live cheerfully, with poverty and peace in
the same habitation. If we are deprived
of friends whom we tenderlv loved, are
there not still some remaining, from whom
we may expect nmch conifort. If our bo-
dies are afflicted with sore disease, have we
not reason to be thankful that our mind
continues vigorous and entire ; that we
are in a situation to look around us for
whatever can afford us ease ; and that
after the decay of this frail and moulder-
ing tabernacle, we can look forward to a
house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens. In the midst of all distresses,
there remains to every sincere Christian,
that mixture of pure and genuine consola-
tion, which springs from the promises and
hopes of the gospel. Consider, I beseech
you, what a singularly happy distinction
this makes in your situation, beyond the
state of those who, under the various trou-
bles of life, are left without hope, and
without
318 On Submission to
SERM without God in the world; without any
^^^* thiiis^' to look to, but a train of unknown
causes and accidents, in which they see no
light nor comfort- Thank the Father of
mercies, that into all the evils he sends he
infuses this joyful hope, i\\ixi the sufferings
of the present time are not ivorthy to be
compared with the glory that shall be re-
vealed, in the end, to the virtuous and
good .
In the fifth and last place, As the evils
which we sutFer are thus alleviated by a
mixture of good, so we have reason to be-
lieve, that the evils themselves are, m
many respects, good. When borne w th
patience and dignity, they improve and
ennoble our character. They bring into
exercise several of the manly and heroic
virtues; and by the constancy and fidelity
with which we support our trials on earth,
prepare us for the highest rewards in hea-
ven. It has always been found, that the
present constitution of human nature can-
not bear uninterrupted prosperity, without
being corrupted by it. The poisonous
weedswhich spring up in that too luxuriant
soil
the Divine Will 319
soil require tlie band of adversity to extir- sfj-m.
pate them. It is the experience of sorrow ^^
and distress that subdues the arrogance of
pride, tames the violence of passion, sof- ^
tens the hardness of the selfish heart, and
humanizes the temper to feel for the woes
of others. Many have bad reason to say,
that it was good for them to be afflicted.
When men take the timbrel, and the harp^
and rejoice at the sound of the organ, they
are apt to sai/ unto God, He part Jrom us,
for ive desire not the know/ed^je of tht/
ways. What is the Almiiihtij that we
should serve him ? But when the?/ are
holden in cords oj" affliction, then he show-
eth them their work and their trans-
gressions, that they have exceeded. He
openeth also their ear to discipline, and
commandeth that they return fro)n iniquity.
Is his case to be deplored as biiihly calami-
tous who, by forfeiting some transient
enjoyments of the world, purchases lasting
improvement in piety and virtue, and ex-
changes a few of the good things of this
life for the better things of another.
Influenced by such considerations as
these, let us look up with reverence to the
great
320 On Submission to
SERM. great Disposer of events ; and under anf
,^^ distress with whicli he is pleased to visit us,
let us utter no other voice but this; Shall
we receive good at the hand of God, and
shall ice not receive evil? Men are too
often ingenious in making' themselves mi-
serable, by aggsavatiiig" to their own fancy,
beyond bounds, all the evils which they
endure. They compare themselves witJi
none but those whom they imagine to be
more happy ; and complain that upon them
alone has fallen the whole load of human
sorrows. Would they look with a more
impartial eye on the world, they would see
themselves surrounded \^ith sufferers, and
find that they are only drinking out of
that mixed cup which Providence has pre-
pared for all . I will restore yovr daughter
again to life, said the Eastern Sage to a
prince who grieved immoderately for the
loss of a beloved child, provided you are
able to engrave on her tovib the immes
of thi'ee persons who have never mourned.
The prince made inquiry after such per-
sons; but found the inquiry vain, and was
silent. To every reasonable person, who
retains the belief of religious principles,
many
the Divine Will. 321
many alleviating circumstances, and many serm.
arguments for patience, will occur under ^^''
every distress. If we rest on this firm per-
suasion, that there is a wise and just Pro-
vidence which disposes of all events, we
shall have reason to conclude, tliat noth-
ing happens to us here without some good
design. Trusting that a happy termina-
tion shall at last arrive to the disorders of
our present state, we shall be enabled, a-
midst all the varieties of fortune, to pre-
serve that equanimity which befits Chris-
tians, and under every trial to say. It is the
Lord, let him do what seemeth good in his
sig'ht
VOL. iv.
[ 322 ]
SERMON XVII
On Friendship.
Proverbs xxvii. 10.
Thine own friend, and thy father's friend,
forsake not.
^?^lu.'\JkJ^^'^^^'^^ relates to the behavi-
XVII. ^ V our of men in their social charac-
ter is of great importance in religion. The
duties which spring from that character,
form many branches of the great law of
charity, which is the favourite precept of
Christianity. They, therefore, who would
separate such duties from a religious spirit,
or who at most treat them as only the in-
ferior
-jtn--v<»/
On Friendship. 323
ferior parts of it, do a real injury to reli- serm.
gioii. They are mistaken friends of piety, -^^ "•
who, under the notion of exalting' it, place
it in a sort of insulated corner, disjoined
from the ordinary atFairs of the world, and
the connections of men with one another.
On the contrary, true piety intiuences
them all. It acts as a vivifying- spirit,
which animates and enlivens, which rec-
tifies and conducts them. It is no less
friendly to men than zealous for the honour
of God; and by the generous affections
wh ch it nourishes, and the benelicent
influence which it exerts on the whole of
conduct, is fully vindicated from evepy
reproach which the infidel would tlirow
upon it. — In this view, I am now to dis-
course, on the nature and duties of virtuous
friendship, as closely connected with' the
true spirit of religion. It is a subject
which the inspired philosopher, who is the
author of this book of Proverbs, has thought
worthy of his repeated notice ; and in many
passages has bestowed the highest eulogium
on friendship among good men. As oint-
ment and perfume rejoice the heart, so doth
the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty
counsel.
324 On Friendship.
SRRM. counsel. As iron sharpeneth iron, so a
^^^^ man sharpeneth the countenance of his
friend. Make sure of thy friend) for
faithful are the wounds of a friend. A
friend loveth at all times ; and a brother
is born for adversity. There is a friend
that sticketh closer than a brother. — Thine
own friend, and thy father's friend, it is
said in the text, forsake not.
1 MUST begin the subject, by observing,
that there are among mankind friendships
of different kinds, or, at least, connections
which assume that name. When they are
no more than confederacies of bad men,
they ought to be called conspiracies rather
than friendships. Some bond of common
interest, some league against the innocent
and unsuspecting, may have united them
for a time. But they are held together
only by a rope of sand. At bottom they
are all rivals, and hostile to one another.
Their friendship can subsist no longer than
interest cements them. Every one looks
with a jealous eye ou his supposed friend;
and watches the first favourable opportu-
nity to desert, or to betray.
Friendships
On Friendship. 326
Friendships too there are of a different serm*
kind, and of a more respectable nature,
formed by the connection of political par-
ties. It is not, perhaps, on selfish or
crooked designs that such friendships are
originally founded. Men have been asso-
ciated together by some public interest, or
ueneral cause, or for defence against some
real or imagined danger; and connections,
thus formed, often draw men into close
union, and inspire for a season no small
degree of cordial attachment. When upon
just and honourable i^rinciples this union
is founded, it has jnoved on various occa-
sions, favourable to the cause of liberty
and good order among mankind. At the
same time, nothing is more ready to be
abused than the name of public spirit, and
a public cause. It is a name under which
private interest is often sheltered, and sel-
fish designs are carried on. The unwary
are allured by a specious appearance ; and
the heat of faction usurps the place of the
generous warmth of friendship.
It is not of such friendships, whether of
the laudable or the suspicious kind, that
I am now to discourse ; but of private
Y 3 friendships.
326 On Friendship.
SRRM. friendships, which grow neither out of
^^ "• interested designs, nor party zeal : but
which flow from that similarity of disposi-
tions, that correspondingharmony of minds,
which endears some person to our heart,
and makes us take as much part in his cir-
cumstances, fortunes, and fate, as if they
were our own. The soul of Jonathan tvas
knit witli the soul of David; and Jonathan
loved him as his own soul. Such friendships
certainly are not unreal ; and, for the ho-
nour of human nature^ it is to be hoped ;
are not altogether unfrequent among" man-
kind.— Happy it is, when they take root in
oia^ early years ; and are engrafted on the
ingenuous sensibility of youth. Friendships,
then contracted, retain to the last a tender-
ness and warmth, seldom possessed by
friendships that are formed in the riper
periods of life. The remembrance of an-
cient and youthful connections melts every
human heart; and the dissolution of them
is, perhaps, the most painful feeling to
which we are exposed here below. — But at
whatever periods of life friendships are
formed, as long as they continue sincere
and aiFectionate, they form, undoubtedly,
one
On Friendship. »i"27
one oi the greatest blessings we can enjoy, serm.
By the pleasing communication of all our ^^*
sentiments which they prompt, they are
justly said to double our pleasure, and to
divide our sorrows. They give a brighter
sunshine to the gay incidents of life ; and
they enlighten the gloom of its darker hours.
A faithful friend, it is justly and beautiful-
ly said, by one of the Apocryphal writers,
is the medicine of life. A variety of occa-
sions happen, when to pour forth the heart
to whom we love and trust, is the chief
comfort, perhaps the only relief, we can
enjoy. Miserable is he who, shut up with-
in the inclosure of selfish interest, has no
person to whom he can at all times, with
full confidence, expand his soul.
Since cordial friendship is so great a
blessing to human life, let us proceed to
consider what duties it requires, and by
what methods it may be cultivated to most
advantage. The fundamental qualities of
true friendship are, canstancy and fidelity.
Without these material ingredients, it is of
no value. An inconstant man is not capa-
ble of friendship He mav perhaps have
affections which occasionally glow m* his
Y 4 heart :
328 On Friendship.
SEEM, heart ; which excite fondness for amiable
^^^- qualities ; or connect him with seeming-
attachment to one whom he esteems, or to
whom he has been obliged. But after
these feelings have lasted for a little, either
fancied interest alienates him, or some new
object attracts him ; and he is no longer
the same person to those whom he once
loved. A man of this inconstant mind
cannot be said to have any mind at all.
For where there is no fixedness of moral
principle, occasional feelings are of no va-
lue ; mind is of no effect ; and with such
persons it is never desireabl€ to have any
connection. Where constancy is wanting",
there can be no fidelity, which is the other
basis ot friendship. For all friendship sup
poses entire confidence and trust ; sup-
poses the seal of secrecy to be inviolable ;
supposes promises and engagements to be
sacred ; and no advantage of our own to be
pursued at the expence of our friend's ho-
nour. i^ inconstant man is despicable. A
faithless nan is base.
But supposing neither constancy nor fi-
delity to be altogether wanting, still how-
ever friendship is in hazard of suffering
from
On Friendship. 320
from the follies, and unreasonable humours serm.
to which all of us are liable. It is to be ^";
regarded as a tender plant in an unfavour-
able soil, which, in order to its flourishing,
requires to be reared and nursed with care.
The following- directions may be of use for
promoting its cultivation, and preservings
it from whatever might be apt to blast and
wither it.
In the first place. Let me advise you not
to expect perfection in any with whom you
contract friendship. It holds, in general,
with respect to all worldly pursuits, that
the more moderate our expectations are,
they are likely to be the more successful.
If, in any situation of life, we hope to
Ijossess complete haj)piness, we may de-
pend on receiving mortifications. If, in
any person, we trust to find nothing but
perfection, we may be assured that, on lon-
ger acquaintance, we shall meet with dis-
appointments. In the case of friendship,
(his admonition is the more necessary to be
given, as a certain warmth and enthusiasm
belong to it, which are apt to carry us be-
yond the bounds of nature. In young
minds.
330 On Friendship.
SERM. minds, especially, a disposition of this kind
^^^^),is often found to take place. They form
to themselves romantic ideas, gathered
perhaps from fictitious histories, of the high
and heroic qualities which belong to human
nature. All those qualities they ascribe,
without reserve or limitation, to the person
with whom they wish to enter into intimate
friendship ; and on the least failure appear-
ing, alienation instantly follows. Hence
many a friendship, hastily perhaps con-
tracted, is as hastily dissolved, and disgust
succeeds to violent attachment. — Remem-
ber, my friends, that a faultless character
on earth is a mere chimera. Many fail-
ings you experience in yourselves. Be
not surprised when you discover the like
in others of whom you had formed the
highest opinion. The best and most esti-
mable persons are they, in whom the fewest
material defects are found ; and whose
great and solid qualities counterbalance
the common infirmities of men. It is to
these qualities you are to look in forming
friendships ; to good sense and prudence,
which constitute the basis of every respect-
able
i)n Friends/lip. 331
able character ; to vijtue, to good temper, sfrm.
to steatliuess of ali'ectioii ; and according' ^^''''
to tlie union of those disjiositions, esteem
yourselves happy in the friend whom you
choose.
In the second [)lace, I must admonish
yoii not to l)e liurt by differences of opinion
arising in intercourse with your trieiuls.
It is inij)ossibie for these not to occur.
Perhaps no two [)ersons were ever cast so
exactly in the same mould, as to think
always in the same manner on every sub-
ject. It was wisely contrived by Provi-
dence, that diversity of sentiment should
take [rlace among men, on pur|>ose to ex-
ercise our faculties, and to give variety
to human life. Perpetual uniformity ot
tliought would become monotonous , and
insipid.— When it is with regard to trifles
tliat diversity or contrariety of opinions
shows itself, it is childish in the last desree
if this become the ground of estrang-ed
affection. When from such a cause there
arises any breach of friendsliip, human
weakness is then discovered in a mortifvinff
ght. In matters of serious moment, the
sentiments
332 On Friendship.
SERM. sentiments of the best and worthiest may
XVII. yg^j.y. from those of their friends, according
as their lines of life diverge, or as their
temper and habits of thought present ob-
jects under different points of view. But
among candid and liberal minds, unity of
affection will still be preserved- No man
has any title to erect his own opinions into
an universal and infallible standard, and
the more enlai ged that any man's mind is,
the more readily he will overlook difference
in sentiments, as long as he is persuaded
that the mind of his friend is upright, and
that he follows the dictates of conscience
and integrity.
In the third place. It is material to the
preservation of friendship, that openness
of temper and manners, on both hands, be
cultivated. Nothing more certainly dis-
solves friendship, than the jealousy which
arises from darkness and concealment. If
your situation oblige you to take a differ-
ent side from your friend, do it openly.
Avow your conduct ; avow your motives :
as far as honour allows, disclose yourselves
frankly ; seek no cover from unnecessary
and
On Friendship. 333
and niysterious secrecy. Mutual confi- sRu.\r.
deuce is tlie soul of frlendshii). As soon ^^"-
as that is destroyed, or even impaired, it is
only a show of friendship that remains.
What was once cordial intimacy, degener-
ates tirst into formal civility; constraint on
both sides next succeeds ; and disgust or
hatred soon follow. — The maxim that has
been laid down by certain crooked politi-
cians, to behave to a friend with the same
guarded caution as we would do to an ene-
my, because it is possible that he may one
day become such, discovers a mind which
never was made for the enjoyments of
friendships. Tt is a maxim which, not un-
reasonably I admit, may find place in those
political and party friendships, of which I
before spoke, where personal advancement
is always in view. But it is altogether
inconsistent with the spirit of those friend-
ships, which are formed, and understood to
be nourished, by the heart.
The fourth advice which I give is. To
cultivate, in all intercourse among friends,
gentle and obliging manners. It is a com-
mon errorto suppose, that familiar intimacy
supersedes
334 On Friendship.
SERM. supersedes attention to the lesser duties of
^^^ behaviour ; and that, under the notion of
freedom, it may excuse a careless, or even
a rough demeanour. On the contrary, an
intimate connection can only be kept up
by a constant wish to be pleasing and
agreeable. The nearer and closer that
men are brought tog^ether, the more fre-
quent that the points of contact between
them become, there is the greater necessity
for the surface being smooth, and every
thing being removed that can grate or
oifend. — Let no harshness, no appearan
, of neglect, no supercilious affectation of
superiority, occur in the intercourse of
friends. A tart reply, a proneness to re-
buke, a captious and contradictious spirit,
are often known to embitter domestic life,
and to set friends at variance. In those
smaller articles of behaviour, where men
are too apt to be careless, and to indulge
their humour without restraint, the real
character is often understood to break forth,
and show itself. It is by no means enough ,
that in all matters of serious interest, we
think ourselves ready to prove the since-
re ti-
On Friendship. 335
rity of our friendship. These occur more serm.
rarely. The ordinary tenor of life is com- ^^^^-
posed of small duties and offices, which
men have occasion daily to perform ; and
it is only by rendering daily behaviour
agreeable, that we can long- preserve the
comforts of friendship.
In the fifth place. Let me caution you
not to listen rashly to evil reports against
your friends. When upon proper grounds
you have formed a connection, be slow of
believing' any thing against the friend
whom you have chosen. Remember, that
there is among mankind a spirit of malig-
nity, which too often takes pleasure in dis-
turbing the society of those who appear to
enjoy one another. The Scripture hath
warned us that there is a whisperer, who
separateth chief friends ; there is a false
witness tvho soweth discord among breth-
ren. Give not therefore a ready ear to the
officious insinuations of those who, under
the guise of friendly concern, come to ad-
monish you, that you ought to stand on
your guard against those whom they see
you disposed to trust. Consider, whethei,
under '
336 On Friendship.
3ERM. under this fair appearance, there may not
^^^^- lurk some secret euvy and rivalry, or some
concealed interest. Chase not every flying
report. Suffer not the poison of jealousy
easily to taint your mind, and break your
peace. A wide difference there is between
that weak credulity which allows itself to
be imposed upon blindly, and that dark
and suspicious spirit which is always in-
clined to the evil side. It forms part of the
character of a wise and good man, that he
is not prone to take up a reproach against
his neighbour*
In the sixth and last place. Let me ex-
hort you not to desert your friend in danger
or distress. Too many there are in the
world, whose attachment to those they call
their friends is confined to the day of their
prosperity. As long as that continues,
they are, or appear to be, affectionate and
cordial. But as soon as their friend is un-
der a cloud, they begin to withdraw, and
to separate their interests from his. In
friendships of this sort, the heart, assuredly,
has never had much concern. For the
great
On Friendship. 337
great test, of true friendshif), is constancy skiim.
in the liour of danger, adherence in the '^^*
season of distress. — When your friend is
calumniated, then is the time, oi)enIy and
boldly, to espouse his cause. When his
situation is changed, or his fortunes are
falling, then is the time of affording prompt
and zealous aid. When sickness or infir-
mity occasion him to be neglected by
others, that is the opportunity which every
real friend will seize, of redoubling all the
atltectionate attentions which love suggests.
These are the important duties, the sacred
claims of friendship, which religion and
virtue enforce on every worthy mind. To
show yourselves warm after this manner,
in the cause of your friend, commands
esteem even from those who have personal
interest in op|)osing him. This honour-
able zeal of friendsliip has, in everv a^e
attracted the veneartion of mankind. It
has consecrated to the latest posterity the
names of those who have given up their
fortunes, and have even exposed their lives,
in behalf of tlie friends whom they loved ;
while ignominy and disgrace have ever
been the portion of them who deserted their
VOL. IV. Z ♦•iends
S;i8 On Friendship.
SKHM. frit^nds in the evil day. Thine own friend
^^^ forsake not.
Before concluding, it must not be for-
gotten that the injunction of the Wise
Man in the text is accompanied with this
remarkable exjiression ; not only thine own
friend, but also, thy father's friend, for-
sake not. These wo 'ds bring back to our
remembrance the days of former years :
and suggest a sentiment, which cannot but
touch every feeling heart. Thine own
friend may be dear, thy father's friend ought
to be sacred. As long as life remains in
any human breast, the memory of those
ancient ties should remain, which con-
nected us once with our father and our
father's house. Thy father has, perhaps,
long ago, gone down to the dust. But
you recal the innocent days of childhood
and youth ; when you think of those family
transactions which once gladdened your
hearts; your father's friend, in the midst
of these, will rise to your remembrance.
There was a time when you accosted him
with respect, or looked up to him with
On Friendship. 339
fondness, and was made happy by IiIsserm.
kindly notice. Does sncli a one now sur- ^^ '^'i
vive, and shall he not receive fro n you
some jiortioM of filial reverence and lio-
nour? To disregard and neglect him, is
to spurn your father's memory ; is to insult
the ashes of him who now sleeps in the
grave; is to transmit yourselves to those
who shall succeed you, as unfeeling and
base. Thine own friend, and thif father's
friend, forsake not.
I HAVE pointed out some of the chief
duties which belong to virtuous friend-
ship ; and some of the principal means by
which this sacred bond should be preserv
ed unbroken ; this holy flame should be
kept alive in the human breast. The
spirit, and sentiments which I have studied
to inspire, are such as virtue breathes, and
such as true piety should increase. It
is thus we fultil that great law of love,
which our Divine Master taught. It is
thus we prepare ourselves for those hap-
py regions where charity never faileth ;
where, in the presence of the God of
Z2
v--v^
340 On Friendship.
SERM.love, eternal and invariable friendships,
^j^' unite together all the blessed friendships,
which, by no human infirmity disturbed,
by death never separated, shall consti-
tute, throughout endless ages, a great
and distinguished portion of the celestial
felicity.
[ 341 ]
SERMON XVIII.
On the Conduct to be Iield with Re-
gard to Future Events.
Proverbs xxvii. 1.
'Boast not thyself of to-morroiv ; for thou
knowest not what a day may bring forth.
F
T'ROM these words I purpose to dis- serm.
course of the proper conduct which
we ouglit to hold, with regard to futurity,
amidst the present uncertainties of life.
Time and life are always going on, and to
each of us are preparing changes in our
state. What these may be, whether for
tlie better or for the worse, we(*annot tell;
as it hath pleased the wisdom of Provi-
Z3
342 On the Conduct to be held
SERM. dence, to cover futurity with a veil wli ich
XVIII.
^^^^^" no mortal can lift up. In the mean time
none of us can avoid forming designs, and
laying plans, for the time to come. The
present moment is never sufficient to give
full employment to the active mind of man,
without some excursions into futurity ;
and in these excursions, the present is often
wholly spent. It is therefore of the high-
est consequence, that a proper direction
be given to the mind, in its employments
of thought relating to futurity. Otherwise,
in the prospects which we take of that un-
known region, false hopes, or ill-ground-
ed fears, shall flatter or torment us in vain.
We know not, as the Wise Man tells us,
what a day majj bring forth, li may,
very probably, produce something that we
had not looked for ; and therefore, instead
of boasting ourselves of to-morrow, as the
multitude are apt to do, it becomes us to be
disciplined and prepared, for whatever it
may bring.
It is needless to spend much time in
confirming the truth which is the founda-
tion of the admonition in the text; in pfov-
iJ)g'
with Regard to future H vents. 343
iii'j: either that change and mutability sf.rm.
belong' to our i)resent state, or that the ^^^'*-
changes of it cannot be foreseen by us.
These are trutl:s so obvious and confessed,
that an attempt to confirm them is like
proving that all men are to die. At the
same time, obvious as they are, it were to
be wished, that the tliojights of men dwelt
npon tliem more. For, by a strange, but
prevailing deception, it would seem, from
the general conduct of mankind, that al-
most every one thinks his own case an
exception from the general law ; and that
he may build plans with as much confi-
deace on his present situation, as if souie
assurance had been given him that it were
never to change. Hence it has been often
observed by serious persons, that there is
no more general cause to which the views
of men can be ascribed, their forgetfulness
of God and their neglect of duty .^ than to
their presuming upon the continuance of
life, of pleasure, and prosperity.
Look but a little way, my friends, into
your own state, and you must unavoidably
perceive that, from the beginning, it has
been so contrived by Providence, that
Z 4 there
344 On the Conduct to be held
SRiiM. there should be no permanent stability to
^^^^" man^s condition on earth. The seeds of
alteration are every where sown. In your
health, life, possessions, connections, plea-
sures, there are causes of decay impercepti-
bly working ; secretly undermining the
foundations of what appears to you the
most stable; continually tending to abo-
lish the present form of things, and to
bring forward new appearances, and new
objects in their order ; so that nothing is
or can be, stationary on earth. All changes
and passes. It is a stream which is ever
flowing ; a wheel which is ever turning
round. When you behold the tree cover-
ed with blossoms in the spring, or loaded
with fruit in the autumn, as well may you
injagine, that those blossoms, or that fruit,
are to remain in their place through the
whole year, as believe that human affairs
are io continue, for to-day and to-morrow,
for this year and the next, proceeding in
the same tenor. To render this reflection
still more serious, think, I pray you, on
what small and inconsiderable causes those
changes depend, which aff*ect the fortunes
of men, throughout their whole lives. How
soon
with licL>(ird to future Events. 345
f-oon IS evil done ! There needs no great si.i<i\i.
bustle or stir, no long preparation of events, ^1^*'
to over-turn \rhat seems most secure, and
to blast what appears most ilourishing. A
gale of wind rises on the ocean ; and the
vessel which carried our friends or our for-
tunes, is overwhelm ned in the deep. A
spark of a candle falls by night in some
neglected corner, and the whole substance
of families is consumed in flames before the
morning. A casual blow, or a suddeu fall,
deranges some of our internal |)arts, and
the best of our life is distress and misery.
It is awful to think, at the mercy of how
many seeming contigencies we perpetual-
ly lie, for what we call happiness in this
world.
In the midst however, of all these appa-
rent contigencies, plans and designs for
the future are every day formed ; pursuits
are undertaken ; and life proceeds in its
usual train. Fit and proper it is, tl)at life
should thus proceed. For the uncertainty
of lo-morrow was never designed by Provi-
dence to deter us from acting or planning
to-day ; but only to admonish us, that we
ought to plan an l to act, soberly and wise-
346 On the Conduct to be held
SERM. ly. — What the wise and sober conduct is
XVIII. ^jjjpjj becomes us, what the rules and
precautions are, which, in such a slate as
ours, respect futurity, I now proceed to
show. They may be comprehended in
the following directions. Boast not thy-
self of to-morrow ; Despair not of to-mor-
row ; Delay not till to-morrow what is pro-
per to be done to-day ; Prepare thyself for
whatevever to-morrow may bring forth ;
Build thy hopes of happiness on something
more solid and lasting than what either to-
day or to-morrow will produce.
I. In the words of the text. Boast not
thyself of to-morrow ; that is, never pre-
sume arrogantly on futurity ; in the most
fair and promising state of fortune, beware
of pride and vanity ; beware of resting
\^ holly upon yourselves, and forgetting
Him who directs the changes of this muta-
ble state. If there be any virtues which
the uncertain condition of the world incul-
cates on man, they are, assuredly, mode-
ration and humility. Man was, for this
end placed in the world, where he knows
so little of what is before him, that he
might
with Regard to future Events. 347
might be impressed with a sense of* his seiim.
dependence on the Ruler of the world ; ^^'
that he might feel the importance of ac-
quiring favour and protection from Heaven
by a life of piety and virtue ; and that not
knowing how soon his own condition may
be the same with that of the most wretched,
he might be prompted to act towards all
his brethren the humane and friendly
part. — Tiie favours which Providence be-
stows upon him at present, he ought to
receive with thankfulness, and may enjoy
with cheerfulness. Though commanded
not to boast himself of to-morrow, the
meaning of the precept is not that he must
be sad to-day. Rejoice he may in the day
of prosj)erity ; but certainly. Rejoice with
trembling, is the inscription that should be
written on all Inwiian pleasures.
As for them who, intoxicated with those
pleasures, become giddy and insolent ;
who, flattered by the illusions of prosperity,
make light of every serious admonition
what the changes of the world give them,
which ca»n I say too strong to alarm them
of their danger ? — They have said to them-
selves, JSly mountain stands strong and
shall
348 On the Conduct to be held
SERNt. shall never be moved. To-morrow shall be
^5^^' as this day, and more abundantly. I shah
never see adversity. Rash and wretched
men! are you sensible how impious such
words are ? To the world, perhaps, you
dare not utter them ; but they speak the
secret language of your heart. Know, you
are usurping upon Providence ; you are
setting Heaven at defiance ; you are not
only preparing sharper stings for your-
selves, when the changes of life shall come,
but you are accelerating those changes ;
you are fast bringing ruin upon your heads.
For God will not suffer pride in man ; and
the experience of all ages hath shown, how
careful he is to check it. In a thousand
memorable instances, the course of his go-
vernment has been visiblj' pointed against
it. He showeth strength with his arm, and
scattereth the proud in the imaginations of
their hearts. The day of the Lord is upon
every one that is proud and lifted up\ to
humble the lofty looks of man, and to stain
the pride of all glory Some of the minis-
ters of Divine displeasure are ccMiimission-
cd to go forUi and to humble, without de-
lay, the boasters of to morrow.
with Regard to future Events. 349
II. As we are not to boast, so neither serm.
are we to despair of to-morrow. The ^^^^^'
former admonition was directed to those
whom prosperity had elated with vain
hopes. This is designed for those whom
a more adverse situation in life has filled
with fears and alarms of what is to come.
The reason of both admonitions is the
same ; thou knowest not what a day may
bring forth. It may bring' forth some un-
expected misfortunes; and therefore thou
shouldst be humble in prosperity. It may
bring forth some unforeseen relief; and
therefore thou shouldst hope under distress.
It is too common with mankind, to be to-
tally engrossed and overcome by present
events. Their present condition, whatever
it is, they are apt to imagine, will never'
change ; and hence by prosperity they are
lifted up, and by ad\ ersity are dejected and
broken ; prone, in the one case, to forget
God ; in the other, to repine against him.
Whereas, the doctrine, which the changes
of the world perpetually inculcate, is, thai
no state of external things should appear
so important, or should so affect and agitate
our spirits, as to deprive us of a calm, an
equal.
350 Oil the Conduct to be held
SKRM. equal, and a steady mind. Man jcnoweth
^^^^" neitlier the go^d nor the evil which is be-
fore him. In if our patience therefore pos-
sess your souls: trusting in the day of
sorrow, that God hath not forgotten to he
gracious ; and that, though weeping may
endure for a nighty joy cometh to the up-
right in the morning.
Distress not yourselves, then, with anxi-
ous fears about to-morrow. Let me exhort
you to dismiss all solicitude, which goes
beyond the bounds of j>rudent precaution.
Anxiety, when it seizes the heart, is a dan-
gerous disease, productive both of much
sin and much misery- It acts as a corrosive
of the mind. I< eats out our present enjoy-
ments, and substitutes in their place many
an acute paiu, The Wise Man, in the text,
has advised us not to boast of to-morrow ;
and our Saviour has instructed us to take
no thought of to-morrovj. Both these di-
rections, properly understood, are entirely
consistent ; and the great rule of conduct,
respecting futurity, is compounded of them
both ; requiring us, neither arrogantly to
presume on to-morrow, not to be anxiously
and fearfully solicitous about it. The
morrow.
ivith Regard tv future Events. 351
morrow^ says our Saviour, shall take^vMM.
thought for the things of itself We shali ^^^•
be better able to judge of the course most
pro|)er for us to hold, when events have
begun to come forward in their order.
Their presence often suggests wiser coun-
sels, and more successful expedients, than
it is possible for us to contrive at a dis-
tance. By excess of solicitude before hand,
we frequently introduce that confusion of
mind, and that hurry and disorder of spirits,
which bring us into the most unfavourable
state for judging soundly. Wherefore,
never indulge either anxiety, or despair,
about futurity. Affright not yourselves
with imaginary terrors. Anticipate not
evils, which perhaps may never come*
Make the best which you can of this day^
in the fear of God, and in the practice of
your duty ; and having done so, leave to-
morrow to itself Sufficient for the day,
\v hen it comes, will he the evil thereof
HI. Delay not till to-morrow any thing
which is fit and proper to be done to-day.
Remember that thou art not the lord of to-
morrow. Thou art so far from having any
title
352 On the Conduct to be held
SERM. title to dispose of it, that thou art ignorant
^^- of the most material circumstances relating
to it ; not only of what it shall bring forth,
but whether thou shalt live to see it. Not-
withstanding the uncontrovertible evidence
of this truth, procrastination has, through-
out every age, been the ruin of mankind.
Dwelling amidst endless projects of what
they are hereafter to do, they cannot so
properly be said to live, as to be always
about to live ; and the future has ever been
the gulph in which the present is swallowed
up and lost. Hence arise many of those
misfortunes which befal men in their world-
ly concerns. What might at present be
arranged in their circumstances with ad-
vantage, being delayed to another oppor-
tunity cannot be arranged at all. To-
morrow, being loaded with the concerns
of to-day, in addition to its own, is clogjied
and embarrassed. Affairs, which have
been postponed, multiply and crowd upon
one another ; till, at last, they prove so in-
tricate and perplexed, and the pressure ot
business becomes so great, that nothing is
left, but to sink under the burden. Of
him, therefore, who indulges this lingering
•s
and
with Regard to future Events. 353
and delaying spirit in worldly matters, it serm.
is easy to prognosticate that his ruin is not ^^"^;
far off.
Evils of the same kind, arising from the
same cause, overtake men in their moral
and spiritual interests. There are few, but
who are sensible, of some things in their
character and behaviour, which ought to
be corrected, and which at one time or
other, they intend to correct ; some head-
strong passion, which they design to sub-
due ; some bad habit, which they purpose
to reform; some dangerous connection,
which they are resolved to break off. But
the convenient season for these reforma-
tions is not yet come. Certain obstacles
are in the way, which they expect by and
by to surmount ; and therefore they go on
in peace for the present, in their usual
courses, trusting, at a future day, to begin
their designed improvement. In the mean
time the angel of death descends ; and, in
the midst of their distant plans, executes
his commission, and carries them away.
Guard against delusions of this kind, which
have been fatal to so many. Thou art now
in tranquillity, in health, in possession of a
VOL. IV. 4 a calm
354 On the Conduct to be held
SER\T. calm mind. Improve those advantages,
,^,,^ for performing all that becomes thee, as a
man, and as a Christian ; for, who can tell
how long thou shalt be permitted to enjoy
them ? New alterations of fortune may be
just coming forward; new troubles in pub-
lic, or in private life, about to rise ; new
exigencies ready to throw thee into some
condition, which shall leave thee neither
leisure nor opportunity to execute any of
the good purposes thou hast at present in
thy mind. Wherefore, trifle no longer with
what is so serious, and what may be so
critical ; but to-day, ivhile it is called to-
day, listen to the voice of God, and do his
works. Do now, as tlie Wise Man advises,
with thy jnight, ivhatsoever thy hand find'
eth to do \ for there is no ivork, nor device,
nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou
goest. Instead of delaying till to-morrow
what ought to be done to-day, let me ex-
liort you,
IV. To be every day prepared for what-
ever to-morrow may bring forth. There is
a certain preparation for the vicissitudes of
life, in which the multitude are sufficiently
busied :
with Regard to future Events. 355
busied: providing, as they think, ag^ainst ^FKvr.
whatever may happen, by increasing tlieir ^^{'
riches, and strengthening themselves by
friends, connections, and worldly honours.
But tliese bulwarks which they erect, are
totally insufficient against the dreaded
storm. It is to some other quarter we
must look for our defence, for when it is the
world itself, whose changes we have reason
to dread, the world, and the things of it,
cannot afford us protection. The best pre-
paration for all the uncertainties of futurity
consists, in a well-ordered mind, a good
conscience, and a cheerful submission to
the will of Heaven. You know not what
shall be on to-morrow. But there is one
who knows it will ; for his decree hath fixed
it. To him look up with reverence ; and
say, Not my ivill but thine he done ; what
tfiou appointest is ever wise, and just, and
good. Seek to fulfil the part which he
hath assigned you ; to do the things
which he hath commanded you to do, and
leave all the rest to him. Whatever to-
morrow brings forth, let it find you em-
ployed in doing- justly, loving mercy, and
walking humbly with your God ; and then
A a 2 you
356 On the Conduct to be held
SERM. you shall meet to-morrow without fear,
^3111* when you meet it without the upbraidings
of guilt.
If it shall bring forth to you unexpected
good, prepare to receive it with gratitude,
temperance, and modesty. If it shall bring
forth evil, prepare to receive it with man-
ly fortitude. Let no events of any kind
derange your equanimity, or shake your
constancy. Contract your desires, and
moderate your hopes. Expect not more
from the world than it is able to afford you.
Take it for granted, that what is naturally
mutable, will one day change ; that what
was designed to be transient, will pass
away. Look forward to futurity without
impatience. Be not desirous to know it.
It belongs to God. Let him bring forward
the events of the world in his own way.
Imagine that you continually hear those
words, which our Lord once addressed to
Peter, when he was inquiring about what
was to happen to a fellow disciple. What
is that to thee? Follow thou tne. Amidst
all the uncertainty of future events, this
road of clear and plain duty lies before
you ; follow Christ, and inquire no farther ;
Seek
r^r
with ltei>ard to future Events. 35
eek no crooked patli, in order to avoid sfrm
impending' dangers. Turn not to the right
hand nor to the left ; but commit thy way
unto the Lord; trust also in him, and
he shall bring to pass the desires of thy
heart.
V. Build your hopes of happiness on
somewhat more solid and lasting than
what either to-day or to-morrow are likely
to produce. From what has been said,
you may clearly perceive, that he who rests
wholly upon this world, builds his house
upon the sand. This life, by uieans of
wisdom and virtue, may be rendered to a
good man, a tolerable, nay, a comfortable
state. But he who expects complete happi-
ness from it, will be greatly deceived. Man,
in his most flourishing condition, were
much to be pitied, if he was destitute of
any higher hope. Rolling from change to
change throughout all the days of his life,
with a dark and unknown prospect always
before him in futurity, what would avail a
few short interrupted glimpses of happiness,
which, from time to time, he was permitted
to enjoy? Can we believe, that only for
such
358 Oil the Conduct to be held
SERM. such a state as this man was designed by
"v.,,^' his great and good Creator ? No ; Let us
bless the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who, according to his abun-
dant mercy, hath begotten us again into a
lively hope, by the resurrection of Christ
from the dead, to an inheritance incor-
ruptible, undefiled, aad that fadeth not
away. Here is the Rock on which the
mind, however tossed by the storms of life,
can securely rest. Here is the object to
which a wise man will bend his chief at-
tention, that, after having acted his part on
earth with fidelity and honour, he may be
enabled^ through the merits of his Saviour,
to look for a place in the mansions of eter-
nal and untroubled peace. This prospect
is the great corrective of the present vanity
of human life. It give significancy and
importance to its most transitory scenes ;
and in the midst of its mutability, discovers
one fixed point of rest. He who is habitu-
ally influenced by the hope of immortality,
will be able to look without dismay on the
changes of the world- He will neither
boast of to-morrow, nor be afraid of it ;
but pass through the varieties of life with
a manly
mth Regard to future Events. 3->y
a manly a.ul unbroken mind; vvitV, anoMe m.:v,
those cares anU sorrows, which ag'^te U
rnnUituJe Such are the native eflects ol
multitnue. o .^j^^i,^,
r'l.i-istim faith and nope- i" i"
S'',:rs: to surmount all the d.s«
-tit;:':— t:.ranr:lah
;r:Sd:"i;?^tomaue./.e.«..fo-^-""
l>etter than the dai, of our birth.
r 3(j0 1
SERMON XIX.
On FOLLOWING the Multitude to do
Evil.
Exodus xxiii. 2.
Thou shall not follow a muUitude to do
eviL
SERM. X^ this world, we are placed as compa-
■VT Y B
, i JL iiions and assistnnts to one another-
Depending, for most of the comforts of life,
on mutual intercourse and aid, it was ne-
cessary, that we should be formed to desire
the companj^ and to take pleasure in the
good-will, of our fellows. But this socia-
bility of man, though essential to his pre-
sent condition, has, like many other good
principle!^,
On following the Multitude ^ SfC. tJ61
principles, been unhappily wraped from serm.
its original purpose ; and, in the present ^'^•
state of the world, has proved the cause of
much evil. For, as vice has abouuded in
every a^e, it hath propagated itself much
more easily by the assistance of this social
disposition. We naturally mould oursel-
ves on the pattern of prevailing manners ;
and corruption is communicated from one
to another. By mutually giving, and tak-
ing, the example of sinful liberties, licen-
tiousness spreads and grows ; each justifies
himself by his neighbour ; and the multi-
tude of sinners strengthen one another's
hands to commit iniquity. In all the ages
of the world, custom has had more power
than reason. Few take the trouble of in-
quiring what is the right path ; the greater
part content themselves with following that
in which the multitude have gone before
them. No exhortation, therefore, is more
necessary to be frequently given, and to be
seriously enforced, than that which we re-
ceived from the text ; Thou shall not follow
a multitude to do evil.
To acquire a fall view of any danger to
*\hich we are exposed, is the first measure
to
362 On following the
SERM. to be taken in order to our safety. Let us
^^^ then begin the subject, with considering
how much we are in hazard of being misled
into vice by the general manners which we
behold around us. No virtue is more ne-
cessary to a Christian, but scarcely is there
any more difficult to be put in practice,
than that firmness of mind which can ena-
ble a man to maintain his principles, and
stand his ground against the torrent of
custom, fashion, and example. Example
has upon all minds a secret and insinuating
influence, even when we ourselves are in-
sensible of its operation. We imperceptibly
slide into some resemblance of the manners
of those with whom we have frequent in-
tercourse. This often shows itself in the
most indifferent things. But the resem-
blance is still more readily contracted,
w hen there is something within ourselves,
that leans to the same side which is coun-
tenanced by the practice of others. We
are always glad to find any apology for
indulging our inclinations and passions ;
and the example ofthe multitude too readily
suggests that apology. Even before cor-
ruption has made great progress in our
hearts.
Multitude to do Evil. 363
hearts, sometimes mere complaisance and serm.
good- nature incline us to fall in with the ^^^
ways of others. Sometimes timidity and
false shame prevent our differing from
them : Frequently expectation and interest
impel us strongly to comply. How great
is the danger we incur, when, in times of
prevailing vice, all these principles of imita-
tion and compliance unite together against
our virtue ?
The world is too justly said by Scripture,
to lie in wickedness : it is a school wherein
every vice is taught, and too easily learned.
Even from our earliest childhood, false
sentiments are instilled into our minds.
We are bred up in the admiration of the
external show of life. We are accustomed,
as soon as we can understand any ihing, to
hear riches and honours spoken of as the
chief goods of men, and proposed to us as
the objects to which our future pursuits are
to be directed. We see the measures of
outward respect and deference taken from
these alone. Religion and virtue are re-
commended to us, in a formal manner, by
our teachers and instructors ; but all im-
provements of the mind and heart are visibly
placed.
364 On following the
SERM. placed, by the world, in an inferior rank
^^^' to the advantages of fortune. Vices that
chance to be fashionable, are treated as
slight failings ; and coloured over, in com-
men discourse, with those soft and gentle
names which express no condemnation.
We enter, perhaps, on the world, with good
principles, and an aversion to downwright
vice. But when, as we advance in life, we
become initiated in that mystery of iniquity,
which is called the way of the world ; when
we meet with deceit and artifice in all ranks
of men ; when we behold iniquity autho-
rised by great names, and often rewarded
with success and advancement, our origi-
nal good impressions too soon decay. The
practice of the multitude renders vice fami-
liar to our thoughts ; and gradually wears
off the abhorrence with which we once
beheld it. We begin to think, that what
is so very general, cannot be highly crimi-
nal. The malignity of sin appears dimi-
nished by so many beiug sharers in the
reproach ; and instead of men's vices de-
tracting, as they ought to do, from our good
opinion of the men, our attachment to the
men
Multitude to do Evil. 365
men oftener reconciles us to the vices of serm.
XIX*
which they are guilty. ^^
Tlie countenance which sin receives from
the practice of tlie multitude, not only re-
moves the restraints which are imposed by
modesty and shame ; but, such is the dege-
neracy of the world, the shame is too often
employed against the cause of religion and
virtue. The ridicule of the giddy and un-
tliinking bears down the conviction of the
sober and modest. Against their own be-
lief, they appear to adopt the notions of the
infidel ; and, against their own choice, they
join in the vices of the libertine ; that they
may not be reproached as persons of a nar-
row mind, and still enslaved to the preju-
dices of edncation. How much reason is
there to believe that, merely from this tini'
dity of temper, many, whose principles are
on the side of religion and virtue, are ne-
vertheless found walking in the way of
sinners, and sitting in the chair ofthescornr
ful^ Interest, too, often coincides with
this weakness of disposition in tem{>ting
su(^h persons to follow the multitude. To
fall in with the prevailing taste, to suit
themselves to the passions of the great, or
to
t^C)6 On following the
SRUM. to the humours of the low, with whom they
-^^- chance to be connected, appears the readi-
est way to rise in the world. Hence they
are naturally led to relinquish the' firmness
of an upright character for that supple and
versatile turn, which accommodates itself
to the times, and assumes whatever appear-
ance seems most convenient for interest. —
Such are the dangers to which we are ex-
posed, in times of corruption, oi foUotoing
the multitude to do evil; dangers which
require our most serious attention and care,
in order to guard ourselves against them. —
I proceed to lay such considerations before
you as may be useful for that purpose.
In the first place. Let us remember that
the multitude are very bad guides ; are so
far from having a title to implicit regard,
that he who blindly follows them, may be
presumed to err. For prejudice and pas-
sion are known to sway the crowd. They
are struck by the outside of things ; they
inquire superficially, admire false appear-
ances, and pursue false goods. Their
opinions are for the most part hastily form-
ed, and of course are variable, floating and
inconsistent.
Multitude to do Evil. 367
inconsistent. In every age, how small is setim,
the number of tliose who are guided by ^.^^^
reason and calm inquiry ? How lew do we
find, who liave the wisdom to think and
judge for theuiselves, an<l have steaciiuess
to follow out their own judgment ? Iguo-
rance, and low education, darken the
views of the vulgar. Fashion and preju-
dice, vanity and fileasure, coirupt the sen-
timents of the great. The example of
neither affords any standard of what is right
and wise. If the philosopher, when em-
ployed in the pursuit of truth, finds it
necessary to disregard established prejudi-
ces and popular opinion,, shall we, in the
more important inquiry after the rule of
life, submit to such blind guidance as the
practice of the many ; esteeming whatever
they admire, and following wherever they
lead r Be assured, that he who sets up the
general opinion as the standard of truth, or
the general practice as the measure of right,
is likely, upon such a foundation, to build
no other suj)er structure except vice and
folly. — If the practice of the multitude be
a good pattern for our imitation, their opi-
nions surely should be as good rule for our
belief.
368 On /bUou'in<; the
yF.r.M. belief. Upon tins |)nnciple, we must e\
^^ change Christianity tor Paganism or Ma-
bomeranism^and the light of the Reforma-
tion for the supei<^titions of Popery; for
these latter have ever had, and still have,
the numhers and the multitude on their
Side. —Our Saviour has sufficiently charac-
terised the way of the world, when lie
descrihes the broad road in which the
multitudes go, as the road which leads to
destruction ; and the path which leads to
happiness, as a narrow path, which fewer
tind. From which it is an easy inference,
that to have the multitude on our side, is
so far from affording any presumption of
our heiiig safe, that it should lead us to
suspect that we are holding the course of
<l anger.
In tlie second place. As the practice of
the multitude is no argument of a good
j)ractice, so it cannot afford us either justi-
fication, or safety, in what is evil.—lt affords
us, I say, no justification. Truth and error,
virtue and vice, are things of immutable
nature. The difference between them is
grounded on that basis of eternal reason,
which
Multitude to do Evil. 369
which no opinions or ousloins of men can sekm,
affect or alter. Whether virtue be esteem-
ed, or not, in the world, this makes it nei-
ther more nor less estimable in itself. It
carries always a divine authority, which
men cannot impair. It shines with an
essential lustre, which praise cannot brigh-
ten, nor reproach tarnish. It has a right
to regulate the opinions of men ; but hy
their opinions cannot be controlled. Its na-
ture continues invariably the same, though
all the multitude of fools should concur in
endeavouring to turn it into ridicule. Wo
unto them, says the prophet Isaiah, that
call evil good, and good evil; that put
darkness for light, and light /or darkness ;
that put bitter for street, and sweet for
bitter /—Their root shall be as rottenness,
and their blossom shall go up as dust ;
because they have east away the law of the
Lord of Hosts, and despised the word of
the Holy One of Israel.
As the practice of the multitude furnishes 4
no justification to the sinner, so neither does
it afford him any safety. Religion is alto-
gether a matter of personal concern. God
hath delivered to every man the rule of life;
iroL- IV. B b and
t)70 On following the
SERM. and every man must think and act for him-
• self; because for himself he is to answer.
If others be wicked, it will be the worse
for them ; but it will not, on that account,
be the better for us, if we shall be evil also.
Let vice be ever so prevalent, it is still that
evil thing which the Lord abhorreth ; and
though hand join in hand, the wicked shall
not escape unpunished. So far is the nmn-
berof offenders from furnishing any ground
of safety, that it calls more loudly for Di-
vine justice to interpose. It is as easy for
the Almighty arm to crush a whole guilty
society, as to punish a single individual ;
and when the disobedient subjects of God
countenance and strengthen one another m
licentiousness, by transgressing in troops
and bands, it becomes high time for bis
government to exert itself, and let its ven-
geance forth. One could scarcely think
that any professor of Christian faith would
fancy to himself any apology from the way
of the world, when he knows that the de-
clared design of his religion was, to destin-
guish him from the world, which is said to
lie in sin, and that Christ came to call out
tor himself a peculiar people, whose cha-
racter
Multitude to do Evil 371
racter it sJiould be, not to be conformed to serm.
the world, but transformed bij the renewing ^^
of their minds. So little, indeed, can the
practice of the world either justify or exte-
nuate vice, that it deserves our serious con-
sideration.
In the third place, Whether there be not se-
veral circumstances which peculiarly aggra-
vate the guilt of those who follow the mul-
titudeinevil? Doyou not thereby strengthen
the power of sin, and perpetuate the perai-
cious influence of bad example ? By strik-
ing off" from the corrupted crowd, you might
be eminently useful ; you might animate
and recover many, whom weakness and
timidity keep under bondage to the cus-
toms of the world: Whereas, by tamely
yielding to the current of vice, you rend€!l*
that current stronger for carrying others
along ; you add weight and stability to the
bad cause ; you lend to the multitude all
the force of your example, for drawing
others after them to the commission of evil.
While you are thus accessory to the ruin
of others, you are, at the same time, stamp-
ing your own character with Che foulest
B b 2 and
372 On following the
SERM, and deepest impressions of corruption. By
^^ surrendering your judgment and your con-
science to the multitude, you betray the
rights, and degrade the honour, of the ra-
tional nature. Notlnng great or worthy
can be expected of him, who, instead of
considering what is right in itself, and
what pari it is fittest for one in his station
to act, is only considering what the world
will think or say of him ; what sort of be-
haviour will pass with tiie fairest show, and
be most calculated to [)lease the many.
When aman has thus given up the liberty
and independence of his mind, we can
no longer reckon upon him in any thing.
We cannot tell how i'ar he may be carried
in vice. There is too much ground to dread,
that he will lie, dissemble, and betray;
changing himself, without scruple, into
every shape that will find favour among
those whom he seeks to gain. While this
servility to the world infers baseness to-
wards men, it involves also the highest
impiety towards God. It shows that we
yield to the world that reverence and sub-
mission which is only due to the divine law.
We treat the government of the Almighty
with
o«» .»
jyiultitude lo do Evil. o^o
with scorn; as \i' liis j)recepts deserved to sf.j{.\j.
be obeyed only ulieu Uiey suited the cap- ^-JL/
rice and the tollies of the n)uititude ; and
were entitled to no regard as soon as they
contradicted the reigning' customs and fa-
sliions of the world. While such conduct
carries in it so much wickedness and folly,
let us observe,
In tlie fourth idace, That the most excel-
lent anti honourable character which can
adorn a man and a Christian, is acquired
by resisting- the torrent of vice, and adher-
ing to the cause of God and virtue against
a corrupted multitude. It will he found to
liold, in geneial, tliat all those who, in any
of the great lines of life, have distinguished
themselves for tliiiiking profoundly^ and
acting nobly, have des|)ised popular preju-
dices, and departed, in several things, from
the common ways of the world. On no
occasion is this more requisite for true ho-
nour, than where religion and morality are
concerned. In times of prevadirig" licenti-
ousness, to maintain unblemished virtue,
aiid uncorrupted integrity ; in a publ/r or
private cause, to stand firm by what is fair
B b 3 and
374 On following the
SERM. and just, amidst discouragements and op-
position; despising groundless censure and
reproach ; disdainmg all compliance with
public manners, when they are vicious and
unlawful ; and never ashamed of the punc-
tual discharge of every duty towards God
and man ; — this is what shows true great-
ness of spirit, and will force approbation
even from the degenerate multitude them-
selves. This is the man, their conscience
will oblige them to acknowledge, whom we
are unable to bend to mean condescensions.
We see it in vain either to flutter or to
threaten him ; he rests on a principle with^
in, which we cannot shake. To this m,an
you may, on any occasion, safely commit
your cause. He is incapable of betraying
his trust, or deserting his friend, or deny-
ing his faith. Th us his righteousness comes
forth as the light, and his judgment as the
noon- day.
. It is, accordingly, this steady inflexible
virtue, this regard to principle, superior to
all custom and opinion, which peculiarly
mark the characters of those, in any age,
who have shone as saints or heroes ; and
has consecrated their memory to all poste-
rity.
Multitude to do Evil. 37t'5
rity. It was this that obtained to ancient skrm
Enocli the most sinmilar testiuionv of ho- ^^^•
nour Iroui Heave n. He continued to walk
with God, wiien th»- world a[)o^tatised trom
him. He pleased (rod, and was beloved of
him ; so that, living amoni^ sinners, he was
translated to heaven without seeing^ <leath ;
Yea, speedilij v as he taken away, lest
wickedness should have altered his undei'-
standing, or deceit beguiled his soul. When
Sodom could not furnish ten righteous men
to save it, Lot remained unspotted amidst
the contagion. He lived like an angel
among spirits of darkness; and the destroy-
ing flame was not permitted to go forth,
till the good man was called away by a.
heavenly messenger from his devoted city.
When all flesh had corrupted their way
vpon the eaith, rl en lived Noah, a righte-
ous man, ar.d a ])reacher of righteousness.
He stood alone, and was scofl'ed by the pro-
fane crew. But they by the deluge were
swept away ; while on him Providence
conferred the immortal honour of being
ttie restorer of a better race, and the father
of a new world. Such examples as these,
and such honours conferred by God on
B b 4 them
376 On following the
SERM.them who withstood the multitude of evil
^^^' doers, should often be present to our minds.
Let us oppose them to the numbers of low
and corrupt examples which we behold
around us ; and when we are in hazard of
being swayed by such, let us fortify our
virtue, by thinking of those who, in former
times, shone like stars in the midst of sur-
rounding darkness, and are now shining in
the kingdom of heaven, as the brightness
of the firmament, for ever and ever. — As
our honour is thus deeply concerned in our
acting a stedfast and virtuous part, let us
also consider.
In the fifth place, How little, in point of
interest, can be gained by the favour of the
multitude, and how much will certainly be
lost, by following them to do evil. We
may, thereby, render ourselves more agreer
able to some with whom we are connected;
and by artful com})liances, may please
ourselves with the prospect of promoting
our fortune. But these advantages, such as
they are; remain doubtful and unceitain.
The wind of popular opinion is ever shift-
ing, it will often leave us at a loss what
course
Multitude to do Lvti 377
course to steer; and, after all our trouble serm.
and anxiety to catch tlie favourable gale, ,^,^^
it may on a sudden forsake us- For the
versatility of character; the meanness and
inconsistency of conduct, into which a de-
pendant on the multitude is betrayed, fre-
quently render him, in the end, an object
of contempt to those whom he sought to
please. But suppo^^ing" him successful in
his views, no worldly advantages, which
are purchased by dishonourable means, can
be either solid or lasting. They bring no
aenuine satisfaction to a man, who is con-
scions to himself of having given up his
principles to serve the world. As long as
he could be satisfied with his own conduct,
he might bear up under undeserved discou-
ragement ; but when he becomes despica-
ble in his own eyes, worldly honours lose
their lustre. What can the multitude do
for you, after you have followed them in
evil ? They cannot restore to you the
peace of an innocent mind, nor heal the
sorrows of a wounded spirit, nor shield you
from the displeasure of Go<l. They can do
little to support you in the hour of affliction,
and nothing to deliver your souls in the
day
378 On following- the
SERM. day of death. Forsaken and disconsolate,
^^^' the world, for the most pjiirt, casts off its
votaries in the end; and when you com-
pute the final amount, it will prove a very
small consolation, that, as you have had
sharers in guilt, you shall have companions
also in punishment.
Look forwanl to the issue of things. The
multitude of men possess now, in a great
measure, the distribution of praise and cen-
sure, of'successand disappointment, accord-
ing to their caprice. But this confused and
promiscuous distribution is not always to
subsist. The day cometh, \\ hen ^^e all are
to appear before a more discernino: Judffe,
and a more impartial tribunal. The day
cometh, when our Lord Jesns Christ shall
descend from heaven in all the glory of his
Father, to unveil every character, and to
render to every man according to his works.
At that day, how shall he lift up his head,
who hath been all his life the slave of the
world's opinion, who hath moulded his
principles, and his practice, solely to please
the nuiltitude ; who hath been ashamed of
his Saviour and his words; and to gain
favour with men, hath apostatised from the
nativp
Multitude to do Evil. 379
native sentiments and dirtates of his heart ? serw.
To say all in one word ; there is a contest ^'^*
now l)etvveen God and the world. These
form the opposite sides which divide man-
kind. Consider well to which of these
you will choose to adhere. On the one
side lie your allegiance, your honour, and
your interest; on the other lie youi guilt
and your shame. For the one, conscience
and reason, for tlie other passion and incli-
nation, plead. On the one hand are the
approbation of God, immortal honour, and
divine rewards ; on the other, — remember
and beware ! — are the stings of conscience,
endless punishment, and endless infamy.
[ 380 ]
SERMON XX
On the Wisdom of God.
1 Timothy i. 17.
N^ow unto the King eternal, immortal, iu'
visible, the only wise God, be honour and
i> lory for ever and ever ! Amen.
SERM. XT ^*» of the highest importance to religi-
^^ i OLis conduct, that our minds be filled
with suitable conceptions of the attributes
of God. They are the foundations of our
reverence for him ; and reverence is the
foundation of religion. All the Divine
perfections are interesting to man. Al-
mighty power, in conjunction with Eternity
and Omnipresence, naturally inspires so-
lemn
On the Wisdom of God. .181
lemn awe. Infinite Goodness relieves the skr\i.
mind tVoni that oppression vvliich Power ^J^
aloiie would {)ro(hice; and. from ourex|)e-
rience of present benefits, and our reiueni-
brance of the past, creates love, gratitude,
and trust. In the "middle between these
stands the contemplation of Divine Wis-
dom, which conjoins impressions of awe
with those of comfort ; and while it lium-
bles us into profound submissiun, encou-
ras^es, at the same time, our reliaMce on th^U
Kins: eternal, immortaL and invisible, who
is justly styled, in the text, the only wise
God-
Among: men, wisdom is a quality entirely
different from cunninc: or craft. It always
supposes good and fair intention in the per-
son who possesses it ; and imj)orts that
laudable ends are pursued by proper and
justifiable means. In like manper, wisdom
in the Supreme Being cannot be separated
from the rectitude of his nature. It is, in
him exertion of benevolence ; and imports,
that the purposes of justice and goodness
are carried on and accomplished* by means
the most effectual. To meditate on some
of those instances m which this divine wis-
doii)
382 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. dom is displayed, cannot but be liiarbly fa-
^^^ vonrable to tbe impressions both of piety
and of virtue.
It is difficult to say, whether the natural,
or the moral, world afford the most conspi-
cuous and striking displays of the wisdom
of God. Not one, nor many discourses,
nor indeed the study and labour of a whole
life, were in any degree sufficient to exf)lore
them. Of the proofs of wisdom which the
natural world affords, I cannot attempt
now to discourse. Any illustration of these
would lead to discussions of a scientific
kind, which more proi)erly belong to the
philosopher, and on which philosophy has
often employed itself with much utility and
honour. 1 shall only take notice, that in
proportion as human knowledge hath en-
larged its sphere of research and discovery,
in the same proportion hath the wisdom of
the Creator struck the minds of all inquir-
ers and observers, with the highest admi-
ration. All nature is in truth a scene of
wonders. In the disposition of the heaven-
ly bodies, and the general arrangement of
the system of the universe ; in the structure
oftheearth; in the endless variety of living
creatures
On the Wisdom of Cod. 3f^
creatures that fill it; and in the ])rovision serm.
made for tliem all^ to enable them to fulfil .^^^
the ends of their being"; it is not easy to
determine, whether, power, wisdom, or
goodness be most conspicuous. It belongs
not only to the heavens to declare the glory
of God, and to the firmament to shov) forth
his Jtandy work', in the smallest and most
inconsiderable, as well as in the most illus-
trious works of God, equal marks appear
of profound design and consummate art.
It has been justly said, that there is not
a vegetable that grows, nor an insect that
moves, but what issufficientto confound the
atheist, and to ati'ord the candid observer
endless materials of devout adoration and
praise.
When we turn to the moral world, the
field of admiration which opens to us is no
less extensive and striking. I can only
mention a few instances of that exquisite
wisdom which every where meets us
In the first place. Let us attend to the
constitution of human nature. Though
we are taught by revelation to consider it
SIS now impaired by the fall, yet as it stands,
we
XX.
384 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. we behold the traces of a noble structure,
planned and executed with the highest
skill. All the powers and faculties bestow-
ed on man are such, as perfectly suit his
condition, and adapt him to tlie purposes
for which he was designed. Senses were
given him, that he might distinguish what
is necessary for the preservation and wel-
fare of his body. — Now, suppose that any
one of those senses, the sight for instance,
or the hearing, or the touch, had been in a
considerable degree either more blunt, or
more acute, than it is at present, what an
unhappy change would this have made
upon our state? On the one hand, greater
imperfection of the organs would deprive
us of all the comfort and advantage which
we now enjoy from such powers. On the
other hand, a greater degree of exquisite
sensibility in them would have rendered
life a burden to us. Our senses, instead of
being inlets to knowledge and pleasure,
would then have become constant avenues
to uneasiness and pain. Their powers,
therefore, are skilfully adjusted to that
measure of strength, which allows them to
answer the purposes of health, safety, and
comfort ;
Onthe Wisdom of God. 385
comfort; witliout eitiier fallins*' short ofsERM.
this line ol uselulness^ or improperly and
hurtt'iilly stretchinj^ beyond it.
In the mind, appetites and passions were
placed, as the movinu powers of the soul,
to impel its activity. But as their impulse
required regulation and restraint, reason
was, at the same time, conferred as the
directing power. Of all our passions, self-
love, and tiie desire of self-preservation,
were, with the utmost propriety, made the
strongest, for a reason which the meanest
capacity may comprehend. Every man is
most immediately committed by Provi-
dence to his own care and charge. He
knows his own situation best ; and has
more opportunities of promoting his own
happiness, than he can have of advancing
the happiness of any other person. It was
therefore fit and wise, that, by the strongest
instinct, he should be prompted to attend
to himself. — At the same time, as no man
standing alone is sufficient for his own wel-
fare, it was necessary that, by mutual sym-
pathy and social instincts, we should be
drawn to give aid to one another. Here
it deserves our particular notice, that the
YOL. IV. C e force
".^/■V
386 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. iTorce of those social instincts is, with ad-
•^ mirable propriety, proportioned by Provi-
dence to the degree of their usefuhiess aan
importance. Thus, that parental affection,
which the helpless state of infancy and
childhood renders so needful, is made the
strongest of them all. Next, come those
ties of blood, which prompt mutual kind-
ness among those, who are intimately join-
ed together by brotherhood, and other
family connections. To these succeeds
that valuable instinct of pity, which impels
us to assist the distressed, wherever we
behold them. To take part with others in
their good fortune belongs to man's social
nature, and increases the sum of happiness.
At the same time, to take part with the
prosperous is less necessary than to sympa-
thise with the unhappy ; and therefore the
principle which prompts us to rejoice with
them that rejoice, is made not to be so
strong, as that which imjels us to weep
with them that weep.
But they are not only the laudable and
insportant parts of our disposition, which
discover the wisdom of the Author of our
frame ; even our imperii ctions and follies
are
On the Wisdain of God. 387
are by him rendered subservient to useful serm.
ends. Amidst those inequalities of condi- ^^'
tion, for instance, which the state of human
life required, wliere it was necessary that
some should be rich, and others poor, that
some should be eminent and distinguished,
and others obscure and mean, how season-
able is that good opinion which every one
entertainsof himself, that self-complacency
with which he compares himself toothers ;
and that fond hope, which is ever pleasing
him with the prospect of future pleasures
and advantages in life? Without those
flattering sensations, vain as they often are,
how totally insupportable would this world
become to many of its inhabitants? Where-
as, by means of them. Providence hath con-
trived to balance, in a great measure, the
inequalities of condition among mankind.
It hath contrived to diffuse pleasure
through all ranks, and to bring the high
and the low nearer to a level with each
other, than might at first be supposed. It
hath smoothed the most rugged tracts of
human life, and hath gilded with rays of
borrowed light its most dreary scenes.
One instance of Divme Wisdom, in fraro-
C c 2 ing
388 On the Wisdom of God.
snjiM. ing" our nature, is so remarkable as to de-
^^' niand particular attention ; that is, the
measure according to which God hath dis-
pensed knowledge and ignorance to man.
There is nothing of which we are more
ready to complain, tlian of our narrow and
con lined viev\s of nature, and of Provi-
dence, and of all things around us : And
yet, upon examination, it will be found,
that our views extend, on every side, just
as far as they ought ; and that, to see and
know more than is allowed us, instead ot
bringing any advantage, would produce
certain misery.— We pry, tor instance, with
impatient curiosity, into future events.
Happily for us, they are veiled and covered
up, and one peep behind that veil, were it
permitted, would be sufficient to poison
the whole comfort of our days, by the an-
ticipation of sorrow to come. — In like
manner, we often wish with eagerness to
penetrate into the secrets of nature, to look
into the invisible world, and to be made
acquainted with the whole destiny of man.
Our wish is denied; we are enviroind on
all hands with mystery ; and tliat mystery
is our happiness : for, were those great in-
visible
On the Wisdom of God. 389
visible objects fully disclosed, the sight oI'sekm.
them would confound and overwhelm us. ^„^
It would either totally "derange our feeble
faculties, or would engross our attention
to such a degree, as to lay us aside from
the business and concerns of this world.
It would have (he same effect, as if we ^
were carried away from the earth, and
mingled among the inhabitants of some
other planet. — The knowledge that is al-
lowed to us, was designed to tit us for act-
ing our part in our present state. At the
exact point, therefore, where usefulness
ends, knowledge stops, and ignorance com-
mences. Light shines upon us, as long as
it serves to guide our path ; but forsakes
us, as soon as it becomes noxious to the
eye ; and salutary darkness is appointed to
close the scene. — Thoughtless and stupid
must that man be, who, in all this furni-
ture of the human mind, in this exact ad-
justment of its several powers to the great
purposes of life, discerns not the hand of
adorable Wisdom, as well as of infinite
Goodness.
In the second place, Let us contemplate
C c 3 the
3d0 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. the same wisdom as exhibiting: itself to us
;^^ in the moral government of the world.
We are informed by revelation, that this
life is designed by Providence to be an
introductory part of existence to intelligent
beings ; a state of education and discipline,
where, creatures fallen from their original
rank, may gradually recover their rectitude
and virtue. Under this view, which is in
itself perfectly consonant to all that reason
discovers, we shall find the general course
of human affairs, confused as it may some-
times appear, to have been ordered with
exquisite wisdom. It was necessary to
such a state, that all the active powers of
man should be brought forth into exercise,
and completely tried. It became proper,
therefore, that there should be a mixture
of characters in the world, and that men
should be shown in a variety of situations.
Hence that diversity of tempers and dispo-
sitions which are found in society ; those
inequalities in rank and station, which we
see taking place, and those different talents
and inclinations which prompt men to dif-
ferent pursuits. By these means, every
department in society is filled up ; and
every
On the Wisdom of God. 391
every man has some sphere prepared for seru.
him, in which he can act. He is broiiyht .^^'
forth as on a busy stage, wliere opportunity
is ^iven for Ins character to <iisphiy itself
fully. His life is, with great propriety,
varied by interchanges of prosperity and
adversity. Always prosperous, he would
become dissipated, imloleiit and giddy.
Always atflicted, he would be fretful, de-
jected, and sullen. There are few persons,
therefore, or none, whose lot shares not of
both these states ; in order that every dis-
position of the heart may be explored, and
every mean of improvement afforded. As
man is ultimately designed for a higher
state of existence than the i)resent, it was
not proper that this world should prove a
paradise to him, or should afford him that
compdete satisfaction which he incessantly
pursues. Disappointments, therefore, are
often made to blast his hopes ; and even
while the comforts of life last, they are al-
ways mixed uith some troubles, in order
that an excessive atfachment to this world
may gradually be loosened. The course
of things is evidently so ordered by Provi-
dence, that occnrxences should be always
happening.
392 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. happening, to bring down the most prosper-
ous to a level with the rest of his brethren,
and to raise up, in their turn, the low and
the distressed.
In the midst of those vicissitudes, which
are so obviously conducive to imjivovement,
both wisdom and goodness required, that
the Supreme Governor of the world should
be seen to protect the interests, and favour
the side of virtue. But in tlie degree of
evidence, with which this was to be shown.,
it was no less requisite, tliat a proper tem-
perament should be observed. Had virtue
been always completely rewarded, and
made happy on earth, men would no longer
have had a motive for aspiring to a more
blessed state. In the case of every crime,
had divine justice interposed to bring com-
plete punishment on the head of the cri-
minal ; or had all the felicity which is pre-
pared for the just in a future world, and
all the misery which there awaits the
wicked, been already displayed to the view,
and rendered sensible to the feelings of men;
there would have been an end of that state
of trial, for which our whole condition on
earth was intended. It was necessary,
therefore.
On the Wisdom of God. 303
therefore, that, at present, we should see ser.m.
through a glass darkly. A certain decree ^^
of mystery and obscurity was, with perfect
wisdom, left on the conduct of the Al-
mighty. But, amidst that obscurity, suffi-
cient encouragement and support is in the
mean time given to virtue ; sufficient
ground is afforded for tlie full belief, that it
is what the Deity loves, and will finally
reward. His approbation of it is signified
to every man by the voice of conscience.
Inward satisfaction and peace are made
always to belong to it ; and general esteem
and honour for the most part to attend it.
On the other hand, the wicked, in no situ-
ation of life, are allowed to be truly happy.
Their vices and their passions are made to
trouble their prosperity ; and their punish-
ment to grow out of their crimes. Let any
one attentively recollect the material inci-
dents of his life ; and he will, for the most
part, be able to trace the chief misfortunes
which have befallen him to some guilt he
has contracted, or some folly he has com-
mitted. Such is the profouiul wisdom with
which Providence conducts its counsels,
that although it does not appear to inter-
pose.
394 On the Wisdo^n of God,
SERM. pose, men are made to reap froii) their ac-
:^^' tions, the fruits which they had deserved ;
their iniquities to correct them, and their
bachslidings to rejyroce them; and while
they suffer, they are forced to acknowledge
the justice of their punishment. These are
not matters of rare or occasional observa-
tion ; but deeply interwoven with the
texture of human affairs. They discover a
regular plan, a formed system, according to
which the whole train of Providence pro-
ceeds; and which manifests to every serious
observer the consumiiiate wisdom of its
Author. As thus^ in the constitution of
human nature, and in the moral govern-
ment of the world, divine wisdom so re-
markably appears, I must observe,
In the third place, That in the redemp-
tion of the world, and in the economy of
grace, it shines no less conspicuously. The
subject which opens to us here is too ex-
tensive to be fully illustrated at present,
but the great lines of it are obvious. In
carrying on a plan, by which forgiveness
was to be dispensed to an offending race,
wisdom required that the authority of the
legislator
On the Wisdom of God. 395
legislator should be fully preserved, and sEiat.
no such relaxation be introduced into go- ,^^
vernment, as might give licence or encou-
ragement to offenders. Accordingly, the
most admirable provision was made for
these important purposes by the interposi-
tion of the Son of God suffering and dy-
ing for sinners. The sovereign awe of
justice is maintained, while justice is tem-
pered with mercy. Men are bound to
righteousness, under the highest sanctions;
and ample security and consolation are, at
t\\e same time, afforded to the penitent.
By the instructions, and example of their
Saviour, they are instructed in their duty ;
and through a Mediator and Intercessor,
they are encouraged to offer their worship
and prayers to the Almighty. They are
assured that, in whatever is too ardious for
human nature to perform, they shall be
assisted by a divine Spirit, and under all
trials and difficulties, they are supported
by the express promise of that eternal life,
which is brought to light by the gospel. It
is not possible for the understanding to
conceive any method of salvation, planned
with more goodness, and executed with
more
396 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM. more wisdom, than what is shown in the
,^^ gospel of Christ. The consideration of this
constitution alone, gives us full reason to
join in that exclamation of the Apostle :
O the depth of the riches both of the wis^
dom and the knowledge of God/ How
unsearchable are his judgments, and his
ways past finding out !
From this short survey which we have
taken of Divine wisdom, as discovering
itself in the whole complex frame of the
moral work! ; in the constitution of human
nature ; in the government of human af-
fairs; and in the redemption of the human
race ; we cannot but perceive how much
reason we have to prostrate ourselves before
God, and with all humility to worsijip and
adore. When we view that immense struc-
ture of the universe in which we dwell ,
when we think of Him, whose wisdom has
' planned the whole system of bemg ; whose
mind comprehends, whose counsels direct,
the whole course of events, from the be-
ginning to the end of time ; by whom
nothing is so inconsiderable as to be over-
looked, or so transient as to be forgotten ;
^ who attends to the concerns of the poor
man
On the Wisdom of God. 397
man in his cottag-e, while he is steering the skrm.
sun and tlie moon in their course tljrouarh ' *,
the heavens ; into what astonishment and
selt-anniliih^tion do we fall ! Before liim
all our boasted knowledge is ignorance,
and our wisdom is folly. Wherever we
cast our eyes on his v. orks and ways, we
find all things adjusted in number, iveight,
and measure-, and after all that we can
survey, Lo ! these are t)ut a part of his
ways ; and how small a portion is heard of
him !
It is the power of God, which pro-
duces among the ujultitude of men any
impressions of religion. When thunder
roars in the heavens, or an earthquake
shakes the ground, they are struck with
awe, and disposed to worship an invisible
power. But such impressions of Deity
are occasional and transitory. The lasting
reverence of a Suiireme Being arises, in a
well-informed mind, from the display of
that intinite wisdom which all the universe
presents. Its operations are constantly,
though silently, going on around us We
may view it in the i)eaceful and sedate
state of the universe, as well as in its great-
est
398 On the Wisdom of God.
SERM.est commotions; we behold it in every
^^' insect that moves on the grouMd, at the
same time that we admire it in the revolu-
tion« of the celestial bodies. Happy for
us if the contemplation shall nourish that
temper of habitual devotion, which so well
becomes dependent beings, and is so inti-
mately connected with all virtue.
But the chief effect that ought to be pro-
duced by meditation on the Divine wisdom,
is perfect resignation to the Governor of the
universe, and entire trust in his adminis-
tration. Our private misfortunes and dis-
appointments are too often the subject of
querulous complaints, and even of unjust
suspicions of Providence. But, when in
the whole natural and moral world, we
behold an arrangement of things which
plainly discovers the most consummate
wisdom, can we l^elieve, that in the arrange-
ment of our petty concerns, this wisdom is
dormant and neglectful ? How much more
rea'ion is there to think, that our ignorance
of the Divine plans misleads our judgment,
than that the wisdom of the Almighty has
erred in directing our private affairs ? —
l)ivine wisdom, as I observed in the be-
ginning,
On the Wisdom of God. 399
ginning, is an exertion of Divine benevo- ^^^m
lence. It has, it can have, no otiier scope
than to accomplish the best ends by the
most proper means. Let the wisdom,
therefore, and the goodness of the Deity
be ever conjoined in our idea. Let every
new discovery of Divein wisdom, be a new
ground of hope, of joy, and of cordial sub-
mission, to every virtuous man. Let him
be thankful that he lives in a world, where
nothing happens to him by chance, or at
random ; but where a great, a wise, and be-
neficent Mind continually superintends
every event.
Under the faith of this great principle
of religion, let us proceed, in the course of
mir duty, with stedfast and undismayed
mmd. Let us retain faithful allegiance to
our Creator and our Redeemer ; and then
we may always hope the best ; and cast our
care upon hivi uho careth for us. Wail
on the Lord ; he of good courage, and he
shall strengthen your heart. Although
thou say est, thou canst not see him, yet
judgment is before him ; therefore trust
thvu hi him.-^Let us begin every under-
taking
400 On the Wisdom of God-
SERM. taking' with humble dependence on his
^^ assistance for enabling us to prosecute it
to the end. When our undertakings are
finished, and the close of life approaches,
with praise to him let us conclude all our
labours.
Unto the King eternal^ immortal, invisi-
ble, the only tvise God, be honour and glory
for ever and ever ! Amen,
L ^01 ]
S E R M O N XXI.
The CompaSsion and Beneficence of
the Deity.
[Preached before the Society for the Benefit of the Sons of the
Clergy of the Established Church of Scotland, 20th May, 1766.]
Jeremiah xlix. 11.
Leave thy fatherless children ; I will pre-
serve them alive \ and let thy widows
trust in me.
NO subject is more open to general ob- serm.
servation, or more confirmed, by
manifold experience, than the goodoess of
Ood. The contemplation of the universe,
in which we dwell, presents it perpetually
to our view. Amidst the vast extent of
creation, we discover no instance of mere
pomp, or useless grandeur, but behold
every thing contributing to the general
VOL. IV. D d goody
402 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. good, and rendered subservient to the wel-
^^^" fare oftlie rational or sensible world. In
the administration of Providence, the same
principle of beneficence is conspicuous.
The seasons are made regularly to return,
and the earth to flourish ; supply is boun-
tifully |)rovided for the wants of all crea-
tures ; and numberless comforts are pre-
pared to sweeten human life. Most justly
is he who hath established, and who up-
holds, liiis adtnirable order of things, to be
esteemed the Father of mercies: and, ac-
cordingly, in this view, he is often cele-
brated in Scripture. The earth is full of
the goodness of the Lord. His tender
mercies are over all his works. His mercy
is great unto the heavens, and it endureth
for ever.
It appears worthy of particular observa-
tion that there is one light, in which more
frequently than in any other, the goodness
of God is presented to us in the sacred writ-
ings, namely, the light of compassion to the
distresses of mankind. Most of the situa-
tions are mentioned in which men are
considered as most forlorn ; and in some
passages of Scripture God is represented as
interesting
of the Deity. 403
interesting- himself, in a peculiar manner, sernt,
for those who are in such situations. Par- ,i^i^
ticular emphasis is always laid upon this
circumstance, in the general views which
are given of his goodness. He is the Hearer
of prayer, unto whom all flesh shall come.
But he is described as listening with parti-
cular attention, to the cry of the poor ; and
regarding the prayer of the destitute : He
will prepare their heart, and cause his ear
to bear. All creatures are tlie objects of
his providential care. But the widow and
the fatherless, the bowed down and the
broken in heart, are particularly attended
to, and commiserated by him. The Lord
executeth judgmen t for the oppressed ; the
Lord preserveth the stranger ; he looseth
the prisoner, and giveth food to the hiin-
gry. He hath not despised nor abhorred
the affliction of the afflicted ; nor hides
he his face from them ; but hears uhen they
cry unto him. In short, when we are de-
prived of all human consolation and aid,
the Almighty is represented as then most
accessible to our prayers, and most disposed
to help and relieve us.
The words v/hich I have chosen for the
D d ? text
404 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. text afford a very amiable view of that
^^- compassion which Scripture so often as-
cribes to the Supreme Being. The context
in which they stand contains much dark
and mysterious prophecy relating to nations
in the neighbourhood of Judea, but leads
to no particular illustration of the text.
The words of it, taken by themselves, are
plainly to be understood as spoken by God
to an aged parent, who, in the view of ap-
proaching dissolution, is anxious about the
future condition of his family in the world,
and they present a most affecting display
of'^God's compassionate regard to the chil-
dren of those who have been his faithful
servants on earth. Leave thy fatherless
children-, 1 will preserve them alive '^ and
let thy widows trust in me. — It will be wor-
ihy of our attention at present to inquire
into the reasons why the Almighty is pleas-
ed to represent himself so often to us under
this view ; not only as the just and good
Ruler of the universe, which is the first and
leading idea we naturally form of him, but
as the Patron and Friend of the distressed
part of mankind.
It will be found that there are two very
important
of the Beit If. 40-3
important purposes wiiicli sucli discoveries skrm.
of the divine nature serve. First, they ^\J
furnish particular ground for trust in God,
amidst ail the vicissitudes of human life ;
and next, they exhibit the pattern of that
disposition, which we ought, in our mea-
sure, humbly to follow and isnitate.
I. The discoveries of <li vine compassion
were jiurposely intended to furnish to us
particular ground for trtist in God, amidst
all the vicissitudes of human life. Man,
during his abode on earth, is exposed to
various distresses. Even in liis most flou-
rishing state, his condition is extremely
precarious. Prosperous as he may at one
time seem to be, he cannot tell how soon,
by some unforeseen vicissitude, he may be
humbled to the dust ; and still less can he
tell what may in future befal his childrefl,
to whose fortunes he often looks with anxi-
ous solicitude. In the moments when his
mind is oppressed, either by the immediate
feeling of sorrows or by the dread of im-
j>ending evils, it is natural for him to fly to
that Supreme Being, under whose direction
all liuman events are placed, and earnestly
J)d3
406 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. to implore protection from him. But though
^^ he hold the belief that justice and goodness
are ever to be found at tlie throne of the
Almighty, yet, even there, particular dis-
couragements meet him. For that Supreme
Being, to whom he looks up, is a great and
awful Being. His nature is, to us, un-
known. He dwells in the secret place of
Eternity ; and is surrounded with clouds
and darkness. We hear his tremendous
voice in the thunder ; and in every com-
motion of the elements we behold the irre-
sistible hand of his power. A nature so
infinitely superior to our own cannot be
looked up to without some measure of dis-
may. It is overwhelming to the timid
apprehension of the distressed. It is con-
templated with that awful and mysterious
reverence which overpowers confidence
and trust.
It is for this reason that, in condescension
to human weakness, God has been pleased
so often to represent himself as actuated by
a [irinciple of compassion and pity. This
gives a shade and softening to the awful
greatness of the Divinity. It brings down
his goodness to the level of our conception,
and
''^^/-*J
of the Deity. 407
tind fits it to be the object of our trust, serm.
Compassion is a principle which we all ^_^^-
feel and know. We know that it is the
strongest of all benevolent instincts in our
nature, and that it tends directly to interest
us in behalf of those who need our aid. We
are tauglit to believe that a similar attri-
bute belongs to the divine nature ; in order
that, from that species of goodness which
we are best acquainted with, and which we
can most rely upon, we may be trained
both to love our ahuighty Benefactor, and,
as long as we are in the practice of our
duty, to trust to his protection, amidst
every distress. When we hear such a
voice of tenderness, as that which my text
utters, proceeding from the Almighty, our
h.earts are comforted. Distrust and dismay
are removed. We are no longer oppresed
by his greatness. We can draw near to him
as to a Father in heaven, before whom we
can, with humble confidence, pour out
our sorrows; and can trust that, though all
our earthly friends should neglect us, our
prayers will attract his compasssionate
regard.
Compassion to the unfortunate, as it is
D d 4 exerted
Vi*VV
408 The Compassion and Benejicence
SERM. exerted among men, is indeed accompa-
^^^* nied with certain disturbed and painlul
feelings, arising from sympathy with those
whom we pity. But every such feeling
we must remove from our thoughts, when
we ascribe an affection of thisnatisre to the
Deity. It is true, that, in Scripture lan-
guage, the Divine compassion is some-
times figured by strong allusions to the
relenting struggles and passionate meltings
of the human heart. But we easily per-
ceive that such representations are to be
understood with the allowances which fi-
gurative language requires. All that is
amiable in compassion belongs to God ;
but all that is imperfect in it must be left
to man. In the Supreme Being there can
be no perturbation or uneasiness ; no con-
trast of feelings, nor fluctuation of purpose.
His compassion imports a kind regard to
the circumstances of the unhappy. But
still it is such a regard as suits the per-
fection of the great Governor of the uni-
verse, whose benignity, undisturbed by
any violent emotion, ever maintains the
same tranquil tenor, like the unruffled
and
of the Deity. 409
and uninterrupted serenity of the highest serm.
heavens. ^'>^'i-
It is important to observe, that this pity
and compassion of our heavenly Father ex-
tends itself to our moral and spiritual con-
cerns, in like manner as to our natural and
external distresses. In that great dispen-
sation of the redemption of the world by
his Son Jesus Christ, he is always repre-
sented in Scripture as moved by pity for
our fallen and wretched estate. The same
principle which leads him to regard with
compassion the widow and the fatherless,
led him to look down with compassion on
an helpless and forlorn race, degraded from
their original honour. From iniinite mercy
he sent his Son to seek and to save that
tvhich was lost. According to the prophe-
tical language of the Old Testament, He
looked upon us; and his time teas a time of
love. He saw that there was no man ; He
beheld that there was no intercessor, and
his own arm brought Salvation He laid
his help on one who was mighty to save.
He saw us in our blood, and said. Live. —
Agreeable to this spirit of compassion, dis-
played i\\ our redemption, is the whole
dispensation
410 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. dispensation of divine grace towards man
^j^ in Lis present state of infirmity. It speaks
continually the doctrine of consolation
and merciful aid ; grace to he sufficient
for us, and strength to be made perfect in
our iveakness. As a father pitieth his
children, so the I^ord pitietli fliem that
fear him : for he knov)€th our frame ; he
remembereth that we are dust.
1 cannot conclude this head without ob-
serving, how tiiuch it adds to the value of
the Christian religion, that it hath disco-
vered the Deity to os in a light so amiable.
When the nations of the earth worshipped
a God unknown, or one whom they array-
ed in nothing but vengeful thunders, the
true God hath come forth from behind the
cloud, and made hiniself kiraown to us;
known not only as a just and good Ruler,
but as a compassionate Father, in whom,
amidst all their distresses, the virtuous
may trust and hope. I now proceed to
observe,
11. That such discoveries of the Divine
nature were designed, not only to adminis-
ter encouragement and consolation, but
also
of the Deity. 411
also to exhibit the pattern of that disposition serm.
>vl)ich we are bound, in our measure, to ^^^'
imitate and follow. To this purpose tend
the repeated exhortations of Scripture, to
be followers of God, as dear children, to
he merciful, a^s our Father in heaven is
merciful. That hardness of heart, which
renders men insensible to the distresses of
their brethren ; that insolence of prospe-
rity, which inspires them with contempt of
those who are fallen beUnv them, are al-
ways represented in Scrij)ture as disposi-
tions most opposite to the nature of God,
and most hateful in his sight. In order to
make this appear in the strongest light, he
hath turned his goodness chietiy into the
channel of compassionate regard to those
whoiu the selfish and the proud despise.
He hath avowedly taken up their canse,
that he might state himself as an antagonist
to such as would bear them down; that he
niight confound and put to the blush that
arroganceof men which makes them slight
any of their own brethren. For the op-
pression of the poor, for the sighing of the
needy , now ivill J arise, saith the Lord,
to set them in safety from him that pujfeth
at
412 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. at them. Lord, says the Psalmist, thou
hast heard the desire of the humble ; thou
wilt arise to judge the fatherless^ and the
oppressed, that the man of earth may op-
press no more.
Consider, 1 beseech you, whether any
virtue can admit of any higher recommen-
dation, than its being that disposition under
tliecharacterof which the Almighty chooses
to be peculiarly known to us : How can we
claim any relation to the Father of mercies,
or how to look up to him for compassion
and grace, if we show no bowels of mercy,
gentleness, and kindness, to one another ?
TJie whole plan, indeed, on which he hath
formed human nature, and all the circum-
stances in which he hath placed us on earth,
are plainly contrived to excite affections
of benevolence, and to enforce works of
mercy. Not only hath he planted com-
passion in the human breast, as one of the
strongest instincts there, but he hath so
connected us in society, as necessarily to
require that our benevolent instincts should
be brought into exenrise. For it is appa-
rent that no man, in any rank of life, even
the highest, is sufficient for his own well-
being
of tfte Deitt^. 413
being. He can neither supply his own slum.
wants, nor provide for his own comforts, ^^^
withonl the cO-operation of others. Tlie
dependence here is mutual between the
high and the low, the rich and the poor.
Each, in one way or other, calls on each
for aid. All are so linked together, as to
be impelled by a thousand motives to assist
one another in the time of need. This is
what nature, what society, what provi-
dence, all speak with a loud voice ; a voice
which may be said to have gone foith even
to the ends of the earth, and to have been
lieard and understood by the most barbar-
ous tribes of men. For among savage and
uncultivated nations, no less than among'
the most civilized and polished, the energy
of compassion is felt, and its claims are re-
cognized and obeyed.
In the course of human life, innumerable
occasions present themselves for all the ex-
ercises of that humanity and benignity, to
which we are so powerfully prompted.
The diversities of rank among men, the
changes of fortune to which all, in every
rank, are liable, the necessities of the poor,
the wants of helpless youth, the infirmities
of
414 The Compassion and JBeneficence
SERM. of declining age, are always giving oppor-
XXI. f^ii^ij^igj^ f(,i^ the display of humane affec-
tions. There is perhaps no form in which
benevolence appears more interesting, than
when it is employed in providing relief for
the families and children of those who
stand in need of md ; in order that the
young may be trained up by pro]>er educa-
tion for acting an useful part in the world.
Benefits conveyed by this channel are often
more important than any other acts of
liberality. Besides the great advantage
which they bring to society, they have the
pleasing effect of awakening all the virtu-
ous sensibilities of the heart, both in those
who confer, and in those who receive them.
They are often felt with a warmer relish by
a family in distress, and productive of more
tender gratitude, than could have been
raised by any other mode of beneficence.
This is rendered sensible to every heart by
the beautiful expression of the divine com-
passion in the text ; Leave thy fatherless
children ; 1 will preserve them alive; and
let thy widows trust in me.
By the train of sentiment we have pur-
mied, your thouglits, my brethren, will now
be
of the Deity. 415
be naturally led to the consideration of srhm.
that institution which has given occasion ^^^
to the meeting of this day ; The Society
formed for the Benefit of the Sons of
the Cleruy of the Established Church of
Scotland.
In entering on this part of the subject, I
trust that I may be [)ermitted to say a few
words concerning that order of men, in be-
half of wiiose descendants the favour of the
public is now requested. Though belong-
ing myself to that order, yet, as my advanc-
ed age and long experience may reasonably
be supposed to have corrected the preju-
dices, and cooled the ardour of partiality,
some weight, 1 hope, will be allowed to my
testimony; when now, in the fifty-fourth
year of my ministry, after having seen suc-
cessions of ministers, in various parts of
the country, rise and fall, and after long
acquaintance with many of divided senti-
ments among my brethren, I can with
confidence declare it as my opinion, that
there exists not any where a more respect-
able and useful class of men than the
Clergy of the Church of Scotland. Among
such
416 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM such a numerous })ody, I readily admit
^^^' that some exceptions will be found to the
character which I now give of them. Con-
sidering human frailty, this is no more
than was naturally to be expected. But,
taking the ministers of this church in gene-
ral, I can venture to assert, that they are
awell-iiiiormed and enlightened set of men ;
decent and irreproachable in their behavi-
our, conscientious in the discharge oif their
pastoral duties, and very generally esteem-
ed by the people under their care. There
was a time, when the Presbyterian clergy
lay under the imputation of being sour in
their tempers, narrow in their opinions,
severe and intolerant in their principles.
But as, together with the diffusion of know-
ledge, a more libera! spirit has prevaded
the clerical order in this part of Britain, it
will be found that their manners now are
conciliating ; that they study to promote
harmony and good order in their parishes ;
that they have shown themselves addicted
to useful literature, and in several branches
of it have eminently distinguished them-
selves ; and that while they are edifying
and
of the Deity. Ail
ana consolatory to tlie lowest, they have skiim.
acquired justrespect from the higher classes ^\J
of men.
As long:, therefore, as this country shall
be preserved from the contagion of that
false philosophy which, by overthrowing all
religious establishments, has engendered
so much imjuety, and wrought so much
mischief, in a neighbouring land ; as long
as the existence of Christian faith, and of
religious principles, shall be considered
as essential to the welfare of a nation, it
may reasonably, 1 think, be expected, that
such a body of men as I have mentioned
shall be held entitled to the regard and
good-will of their fellow-citizens and coun-
trymen.
Circumstances there are, which give par-
ticular occasion for this regard and good-
will to be called forth. You all know the
nature of that provision which is made by
the public for the established clergy of this
country. It is such as is suited to that
sober and frugal manner of living which is
expected from ministers of the gospel.
Though, in consideration of the growing
prosperity of this country, and of its natu-
voL. IV. E e ral
4J8 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. ral consequence, the increased rate of every
' expence, it has been found reasonable that,
of late years, some addition should be made
to the provision of many of the ministers,
yet still their condition approaches not to
what can be termed opulence in any degree.
It is such as to raise them above contempt,
such as to atford a decent subsistence for
themselves and their families ; but such as
seldom or never can enable them, without
some other sources of revenue, to make pro-
vision for their children when goin^ forth
into the world, especially if their family be
numerous.
It was the consideration of this circum-
stance, that lately gave rise to the Society
in favour of the Sons of the Clergy. Many
a minister who, for a tract of years, has
faithfully laboured in the discharge of
every duty to his flock, has felt, towards
the close of his days, what a blessing it
would have proved to him, if such a so-
ciety had existed in his time, to which he
could have looked for aid. Represent to
yourselves, my friend, one of this charac-
ter,— and the representation which I am
now
of the Deity. 4!0
now to give is not the work of fancy, but sbrm.
founded upon what often in fact takes ^^^*
place. Figure, 1 say, a worthy clergyman,
now in the decline of life, fore-seeing the
end of his labours drawing near, surround-
ed with a family of children, to whom his
chief care had been devoted, and in whom
his heart had been bound up. Their edu-
cation, from their earliest years, he had
conducted, or at least superintended him-
self, with paternal fondness. Whatever
his scanty stores could afford he had cheer-
fully expended, in giving all the advantage
to their education which his own village, or
the nearest county town could yield. He
had made every preparation that was in
his power to make, for their acting a pro-
per part in future life. But the time of
preparation is finished. The gay season of
childhood is over. The period is arrived
when they must go forth ; must leave that
paternal mansion where, in the midst of
their youthful companions, they had spent
many happy days; must go to provide for
themselves, the best they can, in a world,
which to them is unknown. And whither
they are to go ! Of the few friends theii
E e 2 father
420 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. father ever had, some are now arone down
XXI
v.^ to the dust. Others with whom he once
lived in familiar intimacy, lifted up now
with the pride of opulence, have forgotten
liim and his family. One of iiis sons, at
least, he fondly wished to have educated
for that profession to which he himself had
been so Jong- attached- But living at a
distance from any of the seats of learning,
and having no protector to whose assist-
ance he could look, he feels with regret
that he is unable for the attempt. Some of
his children he must send away to seek
their fortune in a distant land. Others
must be consigned to the dangers of the
ocean, or be reduced to gain their bread
by following some of the mean and labori-
ous occupations of life. Viewing the dark
and discouraging prospect that is before
them, the father's heart is sore, when he
bids adieu to his children. With tears in
his eyes, he gives them his blessing as they
depart. Little more it is in his power to
give them ; but he commits them to the
protection of their Father's God. How
happy, if, in these mournfnl moments, a
voice of such a nature as this could reach
his
of the Deity. 4:1
liis ears ; J^eave thy fatherless children ; 1 serm
will preserve them alive ; and let thy wi-
dows trust in me.
Aiiiinated by the desire of imitat'n^ that
spirit of divine compassion which breathes
in these words, a few respectable gentlemen
in this city fuimcd, f5ix years ago, the plan
of a Society for assisting the Sons of the
Clergy. The institntioii, as sooii as it was
known, met with public ap[>robation and
favour. It was early distinguished, and
amply assisted by Royal munificence. It
was incorporated by Royal charter ; and,
through the generosity of the public, has
prospered so i'ar, that the Society has al-
ready been enabled to give aid to a consi-
derable number of the sons of clergymen
of this church. The aid w liich the Society,
in an infant state, could as yet give, has
been small ; as it is confined to what the
interest of their cai)ital allows tliem to
bestov*^. They earnestly \^ish to become
more effectually useful, by enlarging their
provision for the education of Sons ; and
hope to be enabled, in due time, to give
assistance to the Daughters, as well as to
the Sons, of ministers ; so as to afford com-
fort
422 The Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. fort to a widowed mother, and to the whole
^^ of a disconsolate family. For it is to be
observed, that it is not merely to a literary
education, or to preparation for the church,
that the intentions of the Society are direct-
ed. They mean so to apply their benefi-
cence, that the famiUi^s of ministers may
be assisted to acquire the necessary qualifi-
cations for pursuing any useful employment
in the world, for which they appear to be
most fitted.
Among other inducements which may
encourage the public to promote this bene-
ficent plan, there is one which I cannot, on
this occasion, omit to mention ; that is, the
signal success with which many sons of
Scots clergymen have been blessed, in
filling with honour several of the important
departments of society. As I have not my-
self the honour of belonging to that class,
I can speak with more freedom on this
topic than some other of my brethren-
Not to mention the well-known and dis-
tinguished names of several who at present
])ossess, with much dignity, stations in the
church and chairs in the universities, and
some now gone, who will be long remem-
bered.
of the Deity. ' 423
bered, as liavingdone no small Iiononr, by sfrm.
their literary prodiicfioiis, to this part of ^^^'
the island ; let uie desire you to look round
on the most respectable stations of busy
life, and to consider how many of tliose
who now make a high figure at the bar,
some on the bench, many in the commer-
cial, the military, and the naval professions,
were born and bred under the humble roof
of a minister. — Nor is tliis success to be
ascribed to any favourable coincidence of
circumstances at this time more than any
other. Itis the natural result of tlie man-
ner in which they were brought up. Edu-
cated in good principles, and formed to
sober manners, by pious and virtuous
parents, they enter on the world less taint-
ed than otliers by fashionable vices and '
follies. By the situation of their pareiits
they were enured, from their earliest youth,
to temperance and habits of application.
They come forward, not altogether ignor-
ant and unlettered, like the children of the
meaner classes of men, but with the foun-
dations of good education and useful know-
ledge. At the same time, tliey see and
know tliat it is not to fortune and to friends,
but
424 The Compassion ana Beneficence
SERM. but to their own industry and exertions,
-^^^' they must trust for future success ; and
that only according to the opinion enter-
tained of their merit they can hope to be
patronized by others. Hence it comes to
pass, that young persons of this description
often advance themselves more quickly,
and act tlieir part more successfully, than
others who, from their birth and fortune,
have enjoyed the benefits of a more im-
proved and ornamented education ; but
whose opulence sometimes supersedes la-
bour, encourages indolence, and perhaps
fosters dissipation and love of pleasure.
These are considerations which tend to
bespeak public favour in behalf of the in-
stitution which I now recommend. Con-
sider, ray friends, that by befriending and
assisting it, you contribute to bring forward
a new race, who, like those of the same
rank that have gone before them, may
come, in their day, to be beneficial to their
country and to the world. It must not be
forgotten, that assistance to bring them for-
ward becomes now more necessary than
it was in the former race, in consequence
of the great additional expence which is
well
of the Deity. 425
well known now to attend every part of serm.
education. By seasonable generosity, on J^^
this occasion, you may be ripening' in secret
the seeds of future genius ; you may be
bringing forward to maturity those young
plants which shall flourish hereafter in the
land ; and which may peihaps attain such
strength, and rise to such a height, as to
protect others under their shade.
To the honour of the present ag-e, it must
be acknowledged not to be deficient in a
spirit of humanity. Frequent instances,
both of public and private beneficence,
come forth on every proper occasion. la
this city, many a noble monument appears
of charitable foundations and institutions ;
some destined to educate the children o'f
♦he needy ; others to furnish maintenance
for the poor, to provide for the aged, or to
receive and relieve the sick and the distress-
ed. By their means much timely succour is
given, and many a distress is mitigated.
The Institution, for the sake of which we
are now assembled, partaking of Hie same
benevolent spirit with the others, reaches
VOL. IV. F f to
426 Tk'i Compassion and Beneficence
SERM. to a more respectable class of men, and
^^^; aims at a more extensive object. Its pur-
pose is, to prevent those evils which would
arise to the public, from the children of
worthy parents being left to languish in
that hopeless indigence, which throws them
first as a burden on society, and may after-
wards render them a dangerous nuisance
to it. Instead of this, it aims at bringing
til em into such a state as affords a reason-
able prospect of their proving useful mem-
bers of the community, and perhaps of
their ranking among its ornaments an.,
supports.
So good a design Providence has al-
ready begun (o favour, and we hope will
continue to bless. After we are laid in the
dust, the generation that succeeds us may
experience its happy effects. They who
now contribute by their generosity to car-
ry it forward will, in the mean time,
enjoy the satisfaction of having adopted
the benevolent spirit of the Christian reli-
gion, tl;ey will enjoy the satisfaction of
having imitated, as they could, that com-
passion of our heavenly Father, which, in
so
of the Deity. 427
so affecting a manner, is expressed by the serm.
words of the text ; words, which I hope ^^
will continue to dwell, with a lasting
and tender impression, on all our hearts ;
Leave thy fatherless children ; I will pre^
serve them alive ; and lei thy ividows trust
in me '
END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME.
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