Sermons of the Rev. James Saurin, late pastor of the French Church at The Hague : From the French

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SERMONS

OF

THE REV. JAMES SAURIN,

1 ' &'•"

LATE PASTOR OF THE FRENCH CHURCH AT THE HAGUE,

FROM THE FRENCH,

BY THE

REV. ROBERT ROBINSON, REV. HENRY HUNTER, D. P

AND

REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE, A. M.

A NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL SERMONS

REVISED AND CORRECTED

BY THE REV. SAMUEL BURDER, A. M.

Late of Clare JIall, Cambridge; Lecturer of the United Parishes of Christ Church, Newgate
Street, and St. Leonard, Foster Lane, London.

WITH A LIKENESS OF THE AUTHOR, AND A GENERAL INDEX.

FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION.

WITH A PREFACE BY THE REV. J. P. K. HENSHAW, D. D.;

IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. II.

NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS,

NO. 82 CLIFF- STREET.

1846.

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME,

Page

Sermon LII. — Christian Casuistry, 3

Sermon LIII. — The necessity of Progres
sive Religion, ----- 9

Sermon LIV. — The Moral Martyr, - 18

Sermon LV. — The Fatal Consequences of
a Bad Education, - - - -22

Sermon LVI. — General Mistakes, - 28

Sermon LVII. — The Advantages of Piety, 35

Sermon LVI II. — The Repentance of the
Unchaste Woman, - - - - 42

Sermon LIX.— The Vanity of attempting
to oppose God, - - - - 52

Sermon LX. — Imaginary Schemes of Hap- >
piness, - - - - - - 58

Sermon LXI. — Disgust with Life, - 64

Sermon LXII.— The Passions, - - 71

Sermon LXII I. — Transient Devotions, - 82

Sermon LXIV. — The different Methods
of Preachers, - - - - - 92

Sermon LXV.— The Deep things of God, 98

Sermon LXVI. — The Sentence passed
upon Judas by Jesus Christ, - - 108

Sermon LXVII.— The Cause of the De
struction of Impenitent Sinners, - - 115

Sermon LXVIII— The Grief of the Righ
teous for the Misconduct of the Wicked, 121

An Essay on the Conduct of David at the
Court of Achish, - - - - 129

Sermon LXIX. — The Song of Simeon, - 140

Sermon LXX. — Christ's Valedictory Ad
dress to his Disciples — Part I. - - 147

Sermon LXX. — Christ's Valedictory Ad
dress to his Disciples — Part II. - - 151

Sermon LXXI. — Christ's Sacerdotal Pray
er—Part I. 156

Sermon LXXI.— Christ's Sacerdotal Pray
er— Part II. 159

Sermon LXX 1 1. — The Cruci-fixion — Part
I. 165

Sermon LXXIL— The Crucifixion— Part
II. 169

Sermon LXXIII. — Obscure Faith— Part I. 173

Sermon LXXIII. — Obscure Faith — Part
II. 177

Sermon LXXIV.— The Believer exalted
together with Jesus Christ — Part I. 181

Sermon LXXIV. — The Christian a Par
taker in the Exaltation of Jesus Christ
—Part II. 185

Sermon LXXV. — For a Communion Sab
bath — Part I. 190

Sermon LXXV. — For a Communion Sab
bath — Part II. 193

Sermon LXXVL— The Rapture of St.
Paul — Part I. 200

Sermon LXXVI.— The Rapture of St.
Paul— Part II. - - - - 203

Sermon LXXVI.— The Rapture of St.
Paul— Part III. - - - - 207

Sermon LXXV II. — On Numbering our
Days — Part I. ... 209

Page

Sermon LXXVII. — On Numbering our
Days— Part II. - - - - 214

Sermon LXXVIII.— The true Glory of a
Christian— Part I. - - - - 218

Sermon LXXVIII.— The true Glory of a
Christian— Part II. - - 222

Sermon LXXIX. — On the Fear of Death
—Parti. 225

Sermon LXXIX.— On the Fear of Death
—Part II. 229

Sermon LXXIX. — On the Fear of Death
— Part III. 232

Sermon LXXX.— On the Delay of Con
version — Part I. - - - - 241

Sermon LXXX. — On the Delay of Con
version — Part II. - - - - 251

Sermon LXXX.— On the Delay of Con
version — Part III. - 260

Sermon LXXXI. — On Perseverance, , 271

Sermon LXXXIL— On the Example of
the Saints — Part I. - - - 278

Sermon LXXXIII. — On the Example of
the Saints — Part II. - 285

Sermon LXXXIV.— St. Paul's discourse
before Felix and Drusilla, - - 293

Sermon LXXXV. — On the Covenant of
God with the Israelites, - 310

Sermon LXXXVL— The Seal of the
Covenant, - 307

Sermon LXXXVII.— The Family of Je
sus Christ, 313

Sermon LXXXVIIL— St. Peter's Denial
of his Master, .... 320

Sermon LXXXIX.— On the Nature of
the Unpardonable Sin, - 327

Sermon XC. — On the Sorrow for the
Deatli of Relatives and Friends, - 334

Sermon XCI.— On the Wisdom of Solomon, 341

Sermon XCII.— The Voice of the Rod, 347

Sermon XCIII.— Difficulties of the Chris
tian Religion, - 355

Sermon XCIV. — Consecration of the
Church at Voorburgh, - 363

Sermon XCV. — On Festivals, and parti
cularly on the Sabbath-Day, - - 370

Sermon XCVI. — The calamities of Eu
rope, 377

Sermon XCVIL— A Taste for Devotion, 384

Sermon XCVIII. — On Regeneration —
Parti. 391

Sermon XCVIII. — On Regeneration —
Part II. 394

Sermon XCVIII* — (NOW FIRST TRANS
LATED.) The Necessity of Regenera
tion — Part III. - - - - 400

Sermon XCIX. — (TRANSLATED BY M. A.
BORDER. NOW FIRST PRINTED.) The
Conduct of God to Men, and of Men
to God, 411

Sermon C.— The Address of Christ to
John an(* Mary, - 417

SERMON LIT.

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

PROVERBS iv. 26.

Ponder the path of thy feet, and all thy ways shall be established.

THE sentence which we have now read, in
cludes a subject of immense magnitude, more
proper to fill a volume, than to be comprised
in a single sermon; however, we propose to
express the subject of it in this one discourse.
When we shall have explained the subject, we
will put it to proof; I mean, we will apply it
to some religious articles, leaving to your piety
the care of applying it to a great number, and
of deriving from the general application this
consequence, if we " ponder the paths of our
feet, all our ways will be established."

I suppose, first, you affix just ideas to this
metaphorical expression, " ponder the path
of thy feet." It is one of those singular figures
of speech, which agrees better with the genius
of the sacred language than with that of ours.
Remark this once for all. There is one among
many objections made by the enemies of reli
gion, which excels in its kind; I mean to say,
it deserves to stand first in a list of the most
extravagant sophisms: this is, that there is no
reason for making a difference between the
genius of the Hebrew language and the idiom
of other languages. It would seem, by this
objection, that a book not originally written in
the idiom of the language of scepticism can not
be divinely inspired. On this absurd principle,
the Scripture could not be written in any lan
guage; for if a Greek had a right to object
against inspiration on this account, an Arabian,
and a Persian, and all other people have the
same. Who does not perceive at once, that
the inspired writers, delivering their messages
at first to the Jews, " to whom were committed
the oracles of God," Rom. iii. 2, spoke pro
perly according to the idiom of their language?
They ran no risk of being misunderstood by
other nations, whom a desire of being saved
should incline to study the language for the
sake of the wisdom taught in it.

How extravagant soever this objection is,
so extravagant that no infidel will openly avow
it, yet it is adopted, and applied in a thousand
instances. The book of Canticles is full of
figures opposite to the genius of our western
languages; it is therefore no part of the sacred
canon. It would be easy to produce other
examples. Let a modern purist, who affects
neatness and accuracy of style, and gives lec
tures on punctuation, condemn this manner of
speaking, " ponder the pafch of thy feet;" with
all my heart. The inspired authors had no
less reason to make use of it, nor interpreters to
affirm, that it is an eastern expression, which
signifies to take no step without first delibe
rately examining it. The metaphor of the
text being thus reduced to truth, another doubt

arises concerning the subject, to which it \0
applied, and this requires a second elucidation.
The term step is usually restrained in our lan
guage to actions of life, and never signifies a
mode of* thinking; but the Hebrew language
gives this term a wider extent, and it includes
all these ideas. One example shall suffice.
" My steps had well nigli slipped," Ps. Ixxiii.
2, that is to say, 1 was very near taking a false
step; and what was this step? It was judging
that the wicked were happier in the practice
of licentiousness, than the righteous in obeying
the laws of truth and virtue. Solomon, in the
words of my text, particularly intends to regu
late our actions; and in order to this he intends
to regulate the principles of our minds, and the
affections of our hearts. " Ponder the path of
thy feet, and all thy ways shall be established,"
for so I render the words. Examine your steps
deliberately before you take them, and you
will take only wise steps; if you would judge
rightly of objects, avoid hasty judging; before
you fix your affection on an object, examine
whether it be worthy of your esteem, and then
you will love nothing but what is lovely. By
thus following the ideas- of the Wise Man, we
will assort our reflections with the actions of
your lives, and they will regard also, some
times the emotions of your hearts, and the
operations of your minds.

We must beg leave to add a third elucida
tion. The maxim in the text is not always
practicable. I mean, there are some doctrines,
and some cases of conscience, which we cannot
fully examine without coming to a conclusion,
that the arguments for, and the arguments
against them, are of equal weight, and conse
quently, that we must conclude without a con
clusion; weigh the one against the other, and
the balance will incline neither way.

This difficulty, however, solves itself; fbr,
after I have weighed, with all the exactness of
which I am capable, two opposite propositions,
and can find no reasons sufficient to determine
my judgment, the part I ought to take is not
to determine at all. Are you prejudiced in
favour of an opinion, so ill suited to the limits
which it has pleased God to set to our know
ledge, that it is dangerous or criminal to sus
pend our judgments! Are your consciences so
weak and scrupulous as to hesitate in some
cases to say, I do not know, I have not deter
mined that question? Poor men! do you know
yourselves so little? Poor Christians! will you
always form such false ideas of your legislator?
And do you not know that none but such as
live perpetually disputing in the schools make
it a law to answer every thing? Do you not

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

[SER. LIT.

know, that one principal cause of that fury,
which erected scaffolds, and lighted fires in the
church, that ought to breathe nothing but
peace and love, was a rash decision of some
juestions which it was impossible for sensible
men to determine' Are you not aware that
one of the most odious ideas that can be formed
of God, one the least compatible with the emi
nence of his perfections, is, that God requires
of us knowledge beyond the faculties he has
given us? I declare I cannot help blushing
for Christians, and especially for Christians
cultivated as you are, when I perceive it need
ful to repeat this principle, and even to use
precaution, and to weigh the terms in which
we propose it, lest we should offend them. To
what then are we reduced, Great God, if we
have the least reason to suspect that thou wilt
require an account, not only of the talents
which it has pleased thee to commit to us? To
what am I reduced, if, having only received of
thee, my Creator, a human intelligence, thou
wilt require of me angelical attainments? —
Whither am I driven, if, having received a body
capable of moving only through a certain space
in a given time, thou Lord, requirest me to
move with the velocity of aerial bodies? At
this rate, when thou in the last great day shalt
judge the world in righteousness, thou, Judge
of the whole earth, wilt condemn me for not
preaching the gospel in Persia, the same day
and the same hour in which I was preaching
it in this assembly! Far from us be such de
testable opinions! Let us adhere to the senti
ments of St. Paul, God shall judge the Gentile
according to what he has committed to the
Gentile; the Jew according to what he has
committed to the Jew; the Christian according
to what he has committed to the Christian.
Thus Jesus Christ, " Unto whomsoever much
is given, of him much shall be required; and to
whom men have committed much, of him they
will ask the more," Luke xii. 48. Thus again
Jesus Christ teaches us, that God will require
an account of five talents of him to whom he
gave five talents, of two talents of him to whom
he gave two, and of one only of him to whom
he gave but one. What did our Redeemer
mean when he put into the mouth of the wicked
servant this abominable pretext for neglecting
to improve his Lord's talent? " Lord, I knew
thee that thou art a hard man," or, as it may
be better translated, a barbarous man, " reaping
where thou hast not sown, and gathering where
thou hast not strawed." I return to my sub
ject. When we have examined two contra
dictory doctrines, and can obtain no reasons
sufficient to determine our judgment, our pro
per part is, to suspend our judgment of the
subject, and not to determine it at all.

It will be said, that, if this be possible in
regard to speculative points; it is not applicable
to matters of practice. Why not? Such cases
of conscience as are the most embarrassing are
precisely those which ought to give us the
least trouble. This proposition may appear a
paradox, but I think I can explain and prove
it. I compare cases of conscience with points
of speculation; difficult cases of conscience with
such speculative points as we just now men
tioned. The most difficult points of specula
tion ought to give us the least concern; I mean,

we ought to be persuaded that ignorance on
these subjects cannot be dangerous. The
reason is plain: if God intended we should
see these truths in their full depth and clear
ness, he would not have involved them in so
much obscurity, or he would have given us
greater abilities, and greater assistances, to
, enable u« tc form adequate and perfect ideas
of them. si like manner, in regard to cases
of conscience, attended with insurmountable
difficulties, if our salvation depended on the
side we take in regard to them, God would
have revealed more clearly what side we ought
to take. In such cases as these, intention
supplies the place of knowledge, and proba
bility that of demonstration.

So much for clearing the meaning of the
Wise Man; now let us put his doctrine to
proof. " Ponder the path of thy feet, and all
thy ways shall be established." Wouldst thou
take only sure steps, at least as sure as is pos
sible in a world where " in many things we
offend all," weigh all the actions you intend
to perform first with the principle from which
they proceed; then with the circumstances in
which you ir" at the time; next with the man
ner in wnjcn you perform them; again with
the bounds which restrain them; afterward
with those degrees of virtue and knowledge at
which you are arrived; and lastly, with the
different judgments which you yourself form
concerning them.

I. An action good in itself may become
criminal, if it proceed from a bad principle.

II. An action good in itself may become
criminal, if it be performed in certain circum
stances.

III. An action good in itself may become
criminal by the manner in which it is per
formed.

IV. An action good in itself may become
criminal by being extended beyond its just
limits.

V. An action good in itself, when performed
by a man of a certain degree of knowledge
and virtue, may become criminal, if it be per
formed ly fc. jian of inferior knowledge and
virtue.

VI. In fine, an action good in itself now,
may become criminal at another time.

These maxims ought to be explained and
enforced; and here we are going, as I said at
first, to apply the doctrine of the Wise Man to
a few subjects, leaving to your piety the care
of applying them to a great number, which
will necessarily occur in the course of your
lives.

I. We ought to ponder our steps in regard
to the principle from which they proceed. An
action good in itself may become criminal, if
it proceed from a bad principle. The little
attention we pay to this maxim is one principal
cause of the false judgments we make of our
selves. Thus many, who allow themselves
very expensive luxuries, say, they contribute
to the increase of trade. To increase trade,
and to employ artists, considered in them
selves, are good works I grant; but is it a
desire of doing these good works that animates
you? Is it not your vanity? Is it not your
luxury? Is it not your desire of sparkling and
shining in the world?

SER. Lit.!

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

Thus our brethren, who resist all the exhor
tations that have been addressed to them for
many years, to engage them to follow Jesus
Christ " without the camp," reply, that were
they to obey these exhortations, all the seeds
of truth now remaining in the land of their
nativity would perish, and that the remnants
of the reformation would be entirely extirpated.
Diligently to preserve even remnants of the
reformation, and seeds of truth, is certainly an
action good in itself; but is this the motive
which animates you when you resist all our
exhortations? Is it not love of the present
world? Is it not the same motive that ani
mated Demas? Is it not because you have
neither courage enough to sacrifice for Jesus
Christ what he requires, nor zeal enough to
profess your religion at the expense of your
fortunes and dignities? Thus again they who
are immersed in worldly care tell us, that were
they to think much about dying, society could
not subsist, arts would languish, sciences de
cay, and so on. I deny this principle. I affirm,
society would be incomparably more flourish
ing were each member of it to think continu
ally of death. In such a case each would con
sult his own ability, before he determined what
employment he would follow, and then we
should see none elected to public offices except
such as were capable of discharging them; we
should see the gospel preached only by such as
have abilities for preaching; we should see ar
mies commanded only by men of experience,
and who possessed that superiority of genius
which is necessary to command them. Then
the magistrate, having always death and judg
ment before his eyes, would think only of the
public good. Then the judge, having his eye
fixed only on the Judge of all mankind, would
regard the sacred trust committed to him, and
would not consider his rank only as an oppor
tunity of making his family, accumulating
riches, and behaving with arrogance. Then
the pastor, all taken up with the duties of that
important ministry which God has committed
to him, would exercise it only to comfort the
afflicted, to visit the sick, to repress vice, to
advance the kingdom of that Jesus whose min
ister he has the honour to be, and not officious
ly to intrude into families to direct them, to
tyrannize over consciences, to make a parade
of gifts, and to keep alive a spirit of party.

But, not to carry these reflections any fur
ther, you say, society could not subsist, sciences
would languish, and arts decay, if men thought
much about dying. Very well. I agree. But
I ask, is this the motive which animates you
when you turn away your eyes from this
object? Is it fear lest the arts should decay,
science languish, society disperse?. Is it this
fear which keeps you from thinking of death?
Is it not rather because an idea of this " king
of terrors" disconcerts the whole system of
your conscience, stupified by a long habit of
sin; because it urges you to restore that ac
cursed acquisition, which is the fund that sup
ports your pageantry and pride; because it re
quires you to renounce that criminal intrigue
which makes the conversation of all compa
nies, and gives just offence to all good men?

My brethren, would you always take right
steps? Never takft one without first examin

ing the motive which engages you to take it.
Let the glory of God be the great end of all
our actions; '; whether we eat or drink, or
whatsoever we do, let us do all to the glory of
God," 1 Cor. x. 31. A motive so noble and
so worthy of that holy calling with which God
has honoured us, will sanctify all our steps,
will give worth to our virtues, and will raise
those into virtuous actions, which seem to
have the least connexion with virtue. A bust
ling trade, a sprightly conversation, a well-
matched union, a sober recreation, a domestic
amusement, all become virtues in a man ani
mated with the glory of God; on the contrary,
virtue itself, the most ardent zeal for truth,
the most generous charities, the most fervent
prayers, knowledge the most profound, and
sacrifices the least suspicious, become vices in
a man not animated with this motive.

II. Let us ponder our steps in regard to the
circumstances which accompany them. An
action, good or innocent in itself, may become
criminal in certain circumstances. This maxim
is a clue to many cases of conscience, in which
we choose to blind ourselves. We obstinately
consider our actions in a certain abstracted
light, never realized, and we do not attend to
circumstances which change the nature of the
action. We think we strike a casuist dumb,
when we ask him, what is there criminal in
the action you reprove? Hear the morality of
the inspired writers.

It is allowable to attach ourselves to a pioua
prince, and to push for port. Yet when Bar-
zillai had arrived at a certain age, he thought
it his duty to flee from court, and to quit his
prince, and he said to David, who invited him
to court, " I am this day fourscore years old,
and can I discern between good and evil? Can
thy servant taste what I eat, or what I drink?
Can I hear any more the voice of singing men,
and singing women? Let thy servant, I pray
thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine
own city, and be buried by the grave of my
father and of my mother," 2 Sam. xix. 35. 37.

It is allowable to erect houses proportional
to our fortunes and rank. Yet the buildings
of the Israelites drew upon them the most
mortifying censures, and the most rigourous
chastisements, after their return from captivity.
This was, because, while their minds were all
employed about their own edifices, they took
no thought about rebuilding the temple. " Is
it time for you," said the prophet Haggai, " Is
it time for you, O ye, to dwell in your ceiled
houses, and this house lie waste?" chap. i. 4.

It is allowable, sometimes, to join in good
company, and to taste the pleasures of the
table and society; yet Isaiah reproached the
Jews of his time in the most cutting manner,
for giving themselves up to these pleasures, at
a time when recent crimes, and approaching
calamities should have engaged them to acts
of repentance. " In that day did the Lord
God of hosts call to weeping, and to mourn
ing, and to baldness, and to girding with sack
cloth; and behold, joy and gladness, slaying
oxen, and killing sheep, eating flesh, and drink
ing wine. And it was revealed in mine ears
by the Lord of hosts; surely this iniquity shall
not be purged from you till ye die, saith the
Lord God of hosts," Isa. xxii. 12, &c.

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

[SER. LII

It is allowable to eat any tiling, without re
gard to the Levitical law. Yet St. Paul de
clares, " If meat make my brother to offend, I
will eat nc flesh while the world standeth," 1
Cor. viii. i3.

How many circumstances of this kind might
I add? Let us retain what we have heard, and
let us make these the basis of a few maxims.

The case of scandal is a circumstance which
makes a lawful action criminal. I infer this
from the example of St. Paul just now men
tioned. What is scandal? Of many defini
tions I confine myself to one.

A scandalous or offensive action is that
which must naturally make a spectator of it
commit a fault. By this touchstone examine
some actions, which you think allowable, be
cause you consider them in themselves, and
you will soon perceive that you ought to ab
stain from them. By this rule, it is not a ques
tion only, when it is agitated as a case of con
science, Is gaming criminal or innocent' The
question is not only, what gaming is to you,
who can afford to play without injuring your
family or fortune; the question is, whether you
ought to engage another to play with you,
who will ruin his. When a case of conscience
is made of this question — Can I, without
wounding my innocence, allow myself certain
freedoms in conversation? The question is not
only whether you can permit yourself to do so
without defiling your innocence, but whether
you can do so without wounding the innocence
of your neighbour, who will infer from the lib
erties you take, that you have no regard to
modesty, and who perhaps may avail himself
of the license you give him.

Another circumstance, which makes a law
ful action criminal, is taken from the passage
of Isaiah just now mentioned. I fear suppress
ing a sense of present sins and of approaching
calamities. I wish, when we have had the
weakness to commit such sins as suspend the
communion of a soul with its God, I wish we
had the wisdom to lay aside for some time, not
only criminal, but even lawful pleasures. I
wish, instead of going into company, even the
most regular, we had the wisdom to retire. I
wish, instead of relishing then the most lawful
recreations, we had the wisdom to mourn for
our offending a God whose law ought to be
extremely respected by us. To take the oppo
site course then, to allow one's self pleasure,
innocent indeed in happier times, is to discover
very little sense of that God whose commands
we have just now violated; it is to discover
that we have very little regard for our salva
tion, at a time when we have so many just
causes of doubting whether our hope to be
saved be well-grounded.

The afflicted state of the church is another
circumstance, which may make an innocent
action criminal: So I conclude, from the pas
sage just now quoted from Haggai. Dissipa
tions, amusements, festivals, ill become men,
who ought to be "grieved for the afflictions
of Joseph;" or, to speak more clearly, less still
become miserable people whom the wrath of
God pursues, and who, being themselves " as
firebrands" hardly " plucked out of the burn
ing," are yet exposed to the flames of tribula
tion, one in the person of his father, another

in those of his children, and all in a million
of their brethren.

Age, again, is another circumstance con
verting an innocent to a criminal action. This

1 conclude from the example of Barzillai. Let
a young man, just entering into trade, be all
attention and diligence to make his fortune;
he should be so: but that an old man, that a
man on the brink of the grave, and who has
already attained the age which God has mark
ed for the life of man, that such a man should
be all fire and flame for the success of his trade,
just as he was the first day he entered on it;
that he should, so to speak, direct his last sigh
towards money and the increase of his trade,
is the shame of human nature; it is a mark of re
probation, which ought to alarm all that bear it.

Let a young man in the heat of his blood, a
youth yet a novice in the world, and who may
promise himself, with some appearance of
truth, to live a few years in the world, some
times lay aside that gravity, which, however,
so well becomes men whose eyes are fixed on
the great objects of religion; let him, I say, I
forgive him; but that an old man, whom long
experience should have rendered wise, that he
should be fond of pleasure, that he should
rna'te a serious affair of distinguishing himself
by lhe elegance of his table, that he should go
ever/ day to carry his skeleton, wan and tot-
tenr.g, into company employed in the amuse
ments of youth; this is the shame of human
na:ure, this is a mark of reprobation, which
ou^ht to terrify all that bear it.

I/X Would we have all our ways establish
ed? Let us examine the manners that accom-
| pji.ny them. An action good in itself, yea,
more, the most essential duties of religion be
come criminal, when they are not performed
with proper dispositions. One of the most es
sential duties of religion is to assist the poor;
yet this duty will become a crime, if it be per
formed with haughtiness, hardness, and con
straint. It is not enough to assist the poor; the
duty must be done with such circumspection,
humanity, and joy, as the apostle speaks of,
when he says, " God loveth a cheerful giver,"

2 Cor. ix. 7. Another most essential duty of
religion is to interest one's self in the happi
ness of our neighbour; and if he turn aside
from the path of salvation, to bring him back
again. " Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy
neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him:" thus
God spoke by his servant Moses, Lev. xix. 17.
" Exhort one another daily:" this is a precept
of St. Paul, Heb. iii. 13. To this may be add
ed the declaration of St. James: " If any of
you do err from the truth, and one convert
him, let him know, that he which converteth
the sinner from the error of his way, shall save
a soul from death, and hide a multitude of
sins," chap. v. 19, 20. But this duty would
become a crime, were we to rebuke a neigh
bour with bitterness, were the reproof more
satire than exhortation, were we to assume airs
of haughtiness and discover that we intended
less to censure the vices of others, than to dis
play our own imaginary excellencies. It is
not enough to rebuke a neighbour; it must be
done with all those charitable concomitants,
which are so proper to make the most bitter
censures palatable; it must be done with that

SER. LIL]

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

modesty, or, may I say, with that bashfulness
which proves that it is not a spirit of self-suffi
ciency that reproves our neighbour, but that it
is because we interest ourselves in his happi
ness, and are jealous of his glory.

IV. Our fourth maxim is, that an action
good in itself may become criminal by being
extended beyond its proper limits. It was said
of a fine genius of the last age, that he never
quitted a beautiful thought till he had entirely
disfigured it. The observation was perfectly
just in regard to the author to whom it was
applied; the impetuosity of his imagination
made him overstrain the most sensible things
he advanced, so that what was truth, when he
began to propose it, became an error in his
mouth by the extreme to which he carried it.
In like manner, in regard to a certain order of
Christians, virtue becomes vice in their prac
tice, because they extend it beyond proper
bounds. Their holiness ought always to be
restrained, and after they have been exhorted
to righteousness and wisdom, it is necessary to
say to them with the Wise Man, " Be not
righteous overmuch, neither make thyself over-
wise," Eccles. vii. 17; an idea adopted by St.
Paul, Rom. xii. 3.

"Be not righteous overmuch, neither make
thyself over-wise" in regard to the mysteries
of religion. As people sometimes lose their
lives by diving, so sometimes people become
unbelievers by believing too much. It is not
uncommon to see Christians so eager to eluci
date the difficulties of the book of Revelation,
as not to perceive clearly the doctrine of evan
gelical morality.

" Be not righteous overmuch, neither make
thyself over-wise" in regard to charity. The
laws of equity march before those of charity;
or rather, the laws of charity are founded on
those of equity. To neglect to support a
family and to satisfy creditors, under pretence
of relieving the poor, is not charity, and giving
alms; but it is rapine, robbery, and iniquity.

" Be not righteous overmuch, neither make
thyself over-wise" in regard to closet devotion.
So to give one's self up to the devotion of the
closet, as to lose sight of what we owe to
society; to be so delighted with praying to God
as not to hear the petitions of the indigent; to
devote so much time to meditation as to reserve
lone for an oppressed person who requires our
assistance, for a widow who beseeches us to
pity the cries of her hungry children; this is
not piety, this is vision, this is enthusiasm, this
is sophism of zeal, if I may express myself so.

" Be not righteous overmuch, neither make
thyself over-wise" in regard to distrusting
yourselves, and fearing the judgments of God.
I know, the greatest saints have reason to
tremble, when they consider themselves in
some points of light. I know Jobs and Davids
have exclaimed, " If I should justify myself,
mine own mouth shall condemn me. If thou,
Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who
shall stand?" Job ix. 20; Ps. cxxx. 3. I know,
one of the most powerful motives which the
inspired writers have used, to animate the
hearts of men with piety, is fear, according to
this exclamation of Solomon, " Happy is the
man that feareth alway," Prov. xxviii. 14; and
according1 to this idea of St. Paul, " Knowing

the terror of the Lord, we persuade men," 2
Cor. v. 11. I know, the surest method to
strengthen our virtue is to distrust ourselves,
according to this expression. " Let him that
thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall," 1
Cor. x. 12.

However, it is certain, some fears of God
proceed rather from the irregularity of tho
imagination, than from a wise and well direct
ed piety. Fear of the judgment of God is
sometimes a passion, which has this in common
with all other passions, it loves to employ itself
about what favours, cherishes, and supports it;
it is reluctant to approach what would dimin
ish, defeat, and destroy it. Extremes of vice
touch extremes of virtue, so that we have no
sooner passed over the bounds of virtue, than
we are entangled in the irregularities of vice.

V. We said in the fifth place, that each
ought to ponder his path with regard to that
degree of holiness at which the mercy of God
has enabled him to arrive. An action good
in itself when it is performed by a man arriv
ed at a certain degree of holiness, becomes
criminal, when it is done by him who has only
an inferior degree. There never was an opin
ion more absurd and more dangerous than
that of some mystics, known by the name of
Molinists. They affirmed, that when the soul
was lodged at I know not what distance from
the body; that when it was in, I know not
what state which they called abandonment, it
partook no more of the irregularities of the
body which it animated, so that the most im
pure actions of the body could not defile it, be
cause it knew how to detach itself from the body.

What kind of extravagance can one ima
gine, of which poor mankind hath not given
an example? Yet the apostle determines this
point with so much precision, that one would
think it was impossible to mistake it. " Unto
the pure, all things are pure; but unto them

^t are defiled and unbelieving, nothing is
•e," Titus i. 15. I recollect the sense which
a celebrated bishop in the isle of Cyprus gave
these words in the first ages of the church. I
speak of Spiridion. A traveller, exhausted
with the fatigue of his journey, waited on him
on a day which the church had set apart for
fasting. Spiridion instantly ordered some re
freshment for him, and invited him by his own
example to eat. No, I must not eat, said the
stranger, because I am a Christian. And be
cause you are a Christian, replied the bishop
to him, you may eat without scruple; agreea
bly to the decision of an apostle, " Unto the
pure all things are pure." We cannot be 'ig
norant of the shameful abuse which some have
made of this maxim. We know some have
extended it even to the most essential articles
of positive law, which no one can violate with
out sin. We know particularly the insolence
with which some place themselves in the list
of those pure persons, of whom the apostle
speaks, although their gross ignorance and
novel divinity may justly place them in the op
posite class. But the abuse of a maxim ought
not to prevent the lawful use of it. There are
some things which are criminal or lawful, ac
cording to the degree of knowledge and holi
ness of him who performs them. " Unto the
pure all things are pure; but unto them that

8

CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY.

[SER. LII.

ere defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure.'
Would you then know how far to carry your
scruples in regard to some steps'? Examine
sincerely, and with rectitude, to what degree
you are pure in this respect. I mean, exam
ine sincerely and uprightly, whether you be
so far advanced in Christianity, as not to en
danger your faith and holiness by this step.

Do you inquire whether you may, without
scruple, read a work intended to sap the foun
dation of Christianity 1 Examine yourself. A
man arrived at a certain degree of know
ledge is confirmed in the faith, even by the ob
jections which are proposed to him to engage
him to renounce his religion. "Unto the pure
all things are pure." If you answer this de
scription, read without scruple Lucretius, Spi
noza, and all the other enemies of religion.
The darkness with which they pretend to co
ver it, will only advance its splendour in your
eyes. The blows which they gave it, will
only serve to convince you that it is invulnera
ble. But if you be yet a child in understand
ing, as an apostle speaks, such books may be
dangerous to you; poison without an antidote,
will convey itself into your vitals, and destroy
all the powers of your soul.

Would you know whether you may, with
out scruple, mix with the world 1 Examine
yourself. " Unto the pure all things are pure."
A man arrived at a certain degree of holiness,
derives, from an intercourse with the world,
only pity for the world. Examples of vice
serve only to confirm him in virtue. If you
answer this description, go into the world with
out scruple ; but if your virtue be yet weak,
if intercourse with the world disconcert the
frame of your mind, if the pleasures of the
world captivate your imagination, and leave
impressions which you cannot efface ; if, after
you have passed a few hours in the world,
you find it follows you, even when you w^a
to get rid of it, then what can you do so pro
per as to retreat from an enemy dangerous to
virtue 1 " Unto the pure all things are pure ;
but unto them that are defiled, nothing is
pure."

VI. In fine, if we wish our ways should be
established, let us weigh them with the differ
ent judgments which we ourselves form con
cerning them. The meaning of the maxims,
the substance of what we daily hear in the
world, and which the writings of libertines
have rendered famous, that youth is the sea
son for pleasure, and that we should make the
most of it ; that fit opportunities should not
be let slip, because they so seldom happen,
and that not to avail ourselves of them, would
discover ignorance of one's self ; the substance
of this sophism (shall I say of infirmity or im
piety 1) is not new. If some of you urge this
now, so did the Jews in the time of Isaiah.
This prophet was ordered to inform them, that
they had sinned to the utmost bounds of the.
patience of God; that there remained only
one method of preventing their total ruin, that
was fasting, mourning, baldness, and girding
with sackcloth ; in a word, exercises of lively
and genuine repentance. These profane peo
ple, from the very same principle on which the
prophet grounded the necessity of their con
version, drew arguments to embolden them in

sin ; they slew oxen, they killed sheep, they
gave themselves up to unbridled intemper
ance, and they said, "Let us eat and drink,
for to-morrow we shall die."

This is precisely the maxim of our liber
tines. Youth is the season for pleasure, and
we should improve it ; opportunities of enjoy
ment are rare ; we should be enemies to our
selves not to avail ourselves of them. Would
not one say, on hearing this language, that an
old man, going out of the world, must needs
regret that he did not give himself up to plea
sure in his youth 1 Would not one suppose
that the sick, in beds of infirmity and pain,
must needs reproach themselves for not spend
ing their health and strength in luxury and
debauchery 1 Would not one imagine, that
the despair of the damned through all eternity,
will proceed from their recollecting that they
checked their passions in this world 1

On the contrary, what will poison the years
of your old age, should you arrive at it; what
will aggravate the pains, and envenom the
disquietudes inseparable from old age, will be
the abuse you made of your youth.

So in sickness, reproaches and remorse will
rise out of a recollection of crimes committed
when you was well, and will change your
death-bed into an anticipated hell. Then,
thou miserable wretch, who makest thy belly
thy God, the remembrance of days and nights
consumed in drunkenness, will aggravate every
pain which thine intemperate lile has brought
upon thee. Then, thou miserable man, who
incessantly renderest an idolatrous worship to
thy gold, saying to it, in acts of supreme
adoration, " Thou art my confidence," then
will the rust of it be a witness against thee,
and eat thy flesh, as it were with fire. Then,
unhappy man, whose equipages, retinue, and
palaces, are the fruits of oppression and in
justice, then " the hire of the labourers which
have reaped down thy fields, which is of thee
kept back by fraud, will cry, and the cries of
the reapers will enter into the ears of the Lord
of Sabaoth ;" then " the stone shall cry out of
the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall
answer it." Then, miserable wretch, thou
who makest "the members of Christ the mem
bers of a harlot ;" then, that Drusilla, who
now fascinates thine eyes, who seems to thee
to unite in her person all manner of accom
plishments ; that Drusilla who makest thee for
get what thou owest to the world and the
church, to thy children, thy family, thy God,
and thy soul, that Drusilla will appear to theo
as the centre of all horrors ; then she, who
always appeared to thee as a goddess, will be
come as dreadful as a fury ; then, like that
abominable man, of whom the holy Scriptures
speak, who carried his brutality so far as to
offer violence to a sister, whose honour ought
to have been to him as dear as his own life;
then will "the hatred wherewith thou ha test
ler, be greater than the love wherewith thou
ladst loved her," 2 Sam. xiii. 15.

The same in regard to the damned ; what
will give weight to the chains of darkness with
which they will be loaded, what will augment
;he voracity of that worm which will devour
them, and the activity of the flames which will
consume them in a future state, will be the

SBR. LIIL]

THE NECESSITY OF, &c.

9

reproaches of their own consciences for the
headlong impetuosity of their passions in this
world.

My brethren, the best direction we can fol
low for the establishment of our ways, is fre
quently to set the judgment which we shall
one day form of them, against that which we
now form. Let us often think of our death
bed. Let us often realize that terrible mo
ment, which will close time, and open eternity.
Let us often put this question to ourselves,
What judgment shall I form of that kind of
life which I now lead, when a burning fever
consumes my blood, when unsuccessful reme
dies, when useless cares, when a pale physician,
when a weeping family, when all around, shall
announce to me the approach of death? what
should I then think of those continual dissipa
tions which consume the most of my time;
what of those puerile amusements, which take
up all my attention; what of these anxious
fears, which fill all the capacity of my soul;
what of these criminal pleasures, which infatu
ate me? what judgment shall I make of all these
things, in that terrible day, when the powers
of the heavens shall be shaken, when the foun
dations of the earth shall shake, when the
earth shall reel to and fro like a drunkard,
when the elements shall melt with fervent heat,
when the great white throne shall appear,
when the judge shall sit, and the books be
opened, in which all my actions, words, and
thoughts are registered?

If we follow these maxims, we shall see all
objects with new eyes; we shall tremble at
some ways which we now approve; we shall
discover gulfs in the road, in which we walk
at present without suspicion of danger.

I said at the beginning, my brethren, and I
repeat it again, in finishing this exercise, the
text we have been explaining includes a volu
minous subject, more proper to make the mat
ter of a large treatise than of a single sermon.
The reflections, which we have been making,
are only a slight sketch of the maxims with
which the Wise Man intended to inspire us.
All we have said will be entirely useless, un
less you enlarge by frequent meditation the
narrow bounds in which we have been obliged
to include the subject.

" Ponder the path of thy feet, and all thy
ways shall be established." Who weighs, who
calculates, who connects and separates, before
he believes and judges, before he esteems and
acts? The least probability persuades us; the
least object, that sparkles in our eyes, dazzles
us; the least appearance of pleasure excites,
fascinates, and fixes us. We determine ques
tions on which our eternal destiny depends,
with a levity and precipitancy, which we should
be ashamed of in cases of the least importance
in temporal affairs. Accordingly, the manner
in which we act, perfectly agrees with the in
attention with which we determine the reason
of acting. We generally spend life in a way
very unbecoming intelligent beings, to whom
God has given a power of reflecting: and more
like creatures destitute of intelligence, and
wholly incapable of reflection.

In order to obey the precept of the Wise
Man, we should collect our thoughts every
morning, and never begin a day without a
VOL. II.— 2

cool examination of the whole business of it.
We should recollect ourselves every night,
and never finish a day, without examining de
liberately how we have employed it. Before
we go out of our houses, each should ask him
self, Whither am I going? In what company
shall I be? What temptations will assault me?
What opportunities of doing good offer to me?
When we return to our houses, each should
ask himself; Where have I been? What has
my conversation in company been? Did I avail
myself of every opportunity of doing good?

My brethren, how invincible soever our de
pravity may appear, how deeply rooted soever
it may be, how powerful soever tyrannical ha
bits may be over us, we should make rapid
advances in the road of virtue, were we often
to enter into ourselves; on the contrary, while
we act, and determine, and give ourselves up
without reflection and examination, it is im
possible our conduct should answer our calling.
My brethren, shall I tell you all my heart?
This meditation troubles me, it terrifies me, it
confounds me. I have been forming the most
ardent desires for the success of this discourse;
and yet I can hardly entertain a hope that you
will relish it. I have been exhorting you with
all the power and ardour of which I am capa
ble; and, if you will forgive me for saying so.
with the zeal which I ought to have for your
salvation; I have been exhorting you not to be
discouraged at the number and the difficulties
of the duties which the Wise Man prescribes
to you; but, I am afraid, I know you too well
to promise myself that you will acquit your
selves with that holy resolution and courage
which the nature of the duties necessarily de
mands.

May God work in you, and m me, more
than I can ask or think! God grant us intelli
gent minds, that we may act like intelligent
souls! May that God, who has set before us
life and death, heaven and hell, boundless feli
city and endless misery, may he so direct our
steps, that we may arrive at that happiness
which is the object of our wishes, and which
ought to be the object of our care! God grant
us this grace! To Him be honour and glory
for ever. Amen.

SERMON LIIL

THE NECESSITY OF PROGRESSIVF
RELIGION.

1 CORINTHIANS, ix. 26, 27.

I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight L
not as one that beateth the air. But I keep
under my bochjj and bring it into subjection; lest
that, by any means, when I have preached to
others, 1 myself should be a cast-away.

MY BRETHREN,

THAT was a fine eulogium, which was made
on one of the most famous generals of antiquity.
It was said of him, that he thought tueie was
" nothing done, while there remained any thing
to do." To embrace such a system of war and
politics, was to open a wide field of painful
labour: but Cesar aspired to be a hero, and

10

THE NECESSITY OF

[Sen. LIU.

there was no way of obtaining his end, exoept
that which he chose. Whoever arrives at
worldly heroism, arrives at it in this way. By
this marvellous secret, the Roman eagles flew
to the utmost parts •>* Asia, rendered Gaul
tributary, swelled the Rhine with German
blood, subjugated Britain, pursued the shattered
remains of Pompey's army into the deserts of
Africa, and caused all the rivers that fell into
the Adriatic sea, to roll along the sound of
their victories. My brethren, success is not
necessarily connected with heroism; the hero
Cesar was a common misfortune, all his hero
ism public robbery, fatal to the public, and
more so to Cesar himself. But, in order to be
saved, it is necessary to succeed; and their is
no other way of obtaining salvation, except
that laid down by this great general, " thinking
nothing done, while there is any thing to do."
Behold, in the words of our text, behold a man,
who perfectly knew the way to heaven, a man
most sincerely aspiring to salvation. What does
he to succeed? What we have said; he counted
all he had done nothing, while there remained
any thing more to do. After he had carried
virtue to its highest pitch, after he had made
the most rapid progress, and obtained the most
splendid triumphs in the road of salvation, still
he ran, still he fought, he undertook new morti
fications, always fearing lest lukewarmness and
indolence should frustrate his aim of obtaining
the prize which had always been an object of
his hope; " I therefore so run, not as uncertainly;
so fight I, not as one that beateth the air. But
I keep under rny body, and bring it into sub
jection: lest that by any means, when I have
preached to others, I myself should be a cast
away."

St. Paul lives no more. This valiant cham
pion has already conquered. But you, you
Christians, are yet alive; like him, the race is
open before you, and to you now,' as well as
to him formerly, a voice from heaven cries,
" To him that overcometh will I grant to sit
with me in my throne," Rev. iii. 21. Happy,
if animated by his example, you share with
him a prize, which loses nothing of its excel
lence, by the number of those who partake of
it! Happy, if you be able one day to say with
him, "I have fought a good fight, I 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, and not to
me only, but unto all them that love his appear
ing," 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.

Let us first make a general remark on the
expressions of the text; they are a manifest al
lusion to the games which were celebrated
among the heathens. Fable, or history, tells
us, that Pelops invented them, that Hercules
and Atreus brought them to perfection, that
Iphitus restored them; all which signify very
little to us. What is certain is, that these
games were celebrated with great pomp. They
were so solemn among the Greeks, that they
made use of them to mark memorable events
and public eras, that of consuls at Rome, of
archons at Athens, of priestesses as Argos.
They passed from Greece to Italy, and were
so much in vague at Rome, that an ancient
author said, two things were necessary to the

Roman people — bread and public shows. It
is needless to repeat here what learned men
have collected on this subject, we will remark
only what may serve to elucidate our text, all
the ideas of which are borrowed from these
exercises.

1. In these games the most remarkable ob
jects was the course. The ground, on winch
the games were celebratedv was marked out
with great exactness. In some places lines
were drawn, and the place of combat railed,
and when he who ran went beyond the line,
he ran to no purpose. It was dangerous to
ramble, especially in some places, as in Greece,
where the space was bounded on one side by
the river Alpheus, and on the other by a soil.
of chevaux de frise, as at Rome; where before
the construction of the circus, which was after
ward built on purpose for spectacles of this
sort, an area was chosen, on one side of which
was a chevaux de frise, and on the other the
Tiber, so that the combatant could not pass
the bounds prescribed to him without exposing
himself to the danger either of being wounded
by the spikes, or drowned in the waves. This
is the first emblem, which our apostle uses
here; " I run," alluding to the course in gene
ral; " I do not run uncertainly," in allusion to
such combatants as, by passing the boundaries,
lost the fruit of their labour.

2. Among other games were those of wrest
ling and boxing. Address in these combats
consisted in not aiming any blow which did not
strike the adversary- He who had not this
address, was said to " beat the air;" and hence
came the proverb " to beat the air," to signify
labouring in vain.* This is the second allusion
of St. Paul, " I fight, not as one that beateth
the air."

3. The combatants observed a particular re
gimen, to render themselves more active and
vigorous. The time, the quantity, and the na
ture of their aliments were prescribed, and they
punctually complied with the rules. They laid
aside every thing likely to enervate them.
" Would you obtain a prize in the Olympic
games?" said a pagan philosopher, " a noble
design! But consider the preparations and
consequences. You must live by rule, you
must eat when you are not hungry, you must
abstain from agreeable foods, you must habitu
ate yourself to suffer heat and cold; in one
word, you must give yourself up entirely to a
physician."! By these means the combatants
acquired such health and strength, that they
could bend with the greatest ease such bows as
horses could hardly bend; hence the " health of
a champion" was a common proverbj to ex
press a strong hale state. As this regimen was
exact, it was painful and trying. It was ne
cessary not only to surmount irregular desires,
but all those exercises must be positively prac
tised which were essential to victorious com
batants: it was not sufficient to observe them a
little while, they must be wrought by long pre
paration into habits, without which the agility
and vigour acquired by repeated labours would
be lost; witness that famous champion, who,
after he had often and gloriously succeeded,

* Eustat. in Homer. Iliad.

f Epict. cap. 36. Vol. Plat, de kgibus, lib. 8.

t Hor. Art. Poet. Julian de Laud. Const-Oral, i

SEK. LIII.]

PROGRESSIVE RELIGION.

II

was shamefully conquered, because he had ne
glected the regimen for six months, during
which time a domestic affair had obliged him
to reside at Athens.* This is the third allusion
which our apostle makes in the text, " I keep
under my body, and bring it into subjection."

Let us observe, by the way, that these ex
pressions of our apostle have been abused to
absurd though devotional purposes; and, to
omit others, it was an abuse of these expressions
which produced the extravagant sect of the
Flagellants.f All Italy in the thirteenth cen
tury was seized with a panic, which ended in
the birth of this sect. The next century, the
Germans being afflicted with a plague, it filled
all Germany, and the folly of Henry III. king
of France, joined to that mean complaisance
which induces courtiers to go into all the ca
prices of their masters, introduced it into that
kingdom, and into that kingdom it went with
so much fury, that Charles, cardinal of Lor
raine, actually killed himself by adhering too
closely to its maxims during a rigorous win
ter.}

What a wide field opens here to our medita
tion, were it necessary to show the absurdity
of such devotions!

We might show, that they owe their origin
to Paganism. Plutarch says, that in the city
of Lacedsemon, they were sometimes pursued
even to death in honour of Diana. § Herodotus
speaks to the same purpose concerning the fes
tival of the great goddess in Egypt. || In like
manner Philostratus speaks of the devotions
performed in honour of the Scythian Diana.lT
Tims also Apuleius concerning the priests of
the goddess of Syria;** and thus authors more
credible, I mean the writers of the Book of
Kings, concerning the priests of Baal.

We might show the weakness of the argu
ments on which such practices are founded; as
fabulous miracles, and, among many others, a
letter brought by an angel from heaven to Je
rusalem, which declared, that the blessed vir
gin having implored pardon for the guilty, God
had replted, that their pardon should be granted
on condition they whipped themselves in this
manner.fl

We might produce the weighty reasons
which many of the R.oman communion, and
among others Gerson and De Thou, urged
against such practices, and the testimonies of
our Scriptures, which expressly forbid them;
but we will content ourselves with observing,
that the words of our text have nothing that
can serve even for a plausible pretence for these
superstitions. We said St. Paul alluded to the
regimen observed by combatants; combatants
observed that kind of life, which was most pro
per to fit them for their profession; in like man
ner, St. Paul observed what fitted him for his.
Were it possible to prove that mortifications and
macerations were necessary to this purpose, we

* Baudelot de Dairval. Hist, de Ptolomee Auletes, p. 61.
c. 9.

(• Hospinian. Hist. Monach. Boileau. Hiat. des Flagel-
lans.

J De Thou, Hist. liv. 59.

§ Plutarch Vit. Lycurg.
1 I] Kvitrop. liv. ii. ch. 41.

IT De Vit. Apollon. lib. vi. c. 20.

** L'Ane d'Or. liv. viii.

jf Bosius Anal, under the year 1349.

should not then have a right to determine that
the apostle had his eye on such services here.
For our parts, we think, he intended all acts
of repentance prescribed in Scripture, and ex
emplified by the saints; as silence, retirement,
fasting, abstinence from criminal pleasures, and
so on.

4. Further, there were persons who presided
over the pagan games. They were called he
ralds. The name given them in the Greek
language is precisely the same which in our
language is rendered preacher. Their office
was expressed by a word which signifies to
preach. It consisted in proclaiming the game,
directing the combatants, encouraging the
weak, animating the valiant, exposing the prize
to public view, and giving it to the victor. This
is the fourth allusion of our apostle, " lest when
I have preached to others." The original word
which we have translated preached, is the very
word which is used to describe the office of such
as presided at the games; and St. Paul, by using
this term, gives us a beautiful idea of the apos-
tleship, and, in general of the gospel ministry.
What is the office of a minister of the gospeP
We publish the race, we describe the "good
works, which God hath before ordained, that
we should walk in them;" we animate you by
often saying, " run with patience the race that
is set before you:" we lift up to public view the

I prize, and in the name of God we cry, "so run
that you may obtain." Happy if you all attend
to this voice, and if, while a few are eager] y
and constantly running the race set before tliem,
others do not run more eagerly across the space,
like those unhappy people just now mentioned,
who were wounded with iron spikes, or drown- •
ed in the waves.

5. In fine, The last remark we make on pa
gan games regards the different destiny of the
combatants. The conquered derived no advan
tages from their pains; but the victors were co
vered with honours and advantages; they were
distinguished in all public assemblies; they
were called by the high sounding name of
Olympian; they were crowned with great ce
remony; statues were erected to their honour,

! and breaches were made in the walls of cities

| to admit them with the greater pomp. This is

; the fifth allusion which the apostle here makes

, to the games, "lest I should be a cast-away."

A cast-away; the heathens applied this word to

such combatants as entered the lists but did not

obtain the prize.

Such were the games celebrated through all
Greece, and in particular at the city of Phi-
lippi, where St. Paul wrote this epistle, and in
that of Corinth to which it is addressed. The
believer is a stranger on earth, he sees there a
thousand delights of which he does not partake.
The eyes of Paul at Philippi, more properly his
ears (for St. Paul hardly attended public amuse
ments,) were struck with the fame and mag
nificence of these games. The Corinthians
were in the same condition. How hard is it to
live in a country and to be excluded from the
pleasures of the inhabitants! St. Paul strength
ens the Corinthians and himself against these
temptations; he rises from sensual to spiritual
pleasures, and says, he has also an area, a race,
a crown, a triumph. " I therefore so run, not
as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beat-

THE NECESSITY OF

. LIII

eth the air. But I keep under my body, and
bring it into subjection, lest that by any means,
when I have preached to others, I myself should
be a cast-away."

We have explained the terms and allusions
of the apostle. His meaning is sufficiently
clear. " I keep under my body," and so on,
does not mean, as some interpreters have it, I
halt between hope of salvation, and fear of de
struction; an interpretation directly opposite to
that assurance which St. Paul expresses in ma
ny parts of his epistles, and particularly in this
famous passage which we have elsewhere ex
plained, " I am persuaded that neither death,
nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor pow
ers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall
be able to separate us from the love of God,"
Rom. viii. 38, 39. But " I keep under my
body;" and the rest means, whatever progress
I have made in a career of virtue, all my past
efforts would be useless, should I spend the rest
of my life in idleness and indifference, and I
could not expect, even by the assistance of
grace, to arrive at glory.

Let us now justify this disposition of our
apostle, and let us prove this general truth, that
there is no point fixed, at which a Christian
may stop; that each portion of life has its task;
that to what degree soever we have carried our
sanctification, unless we carry it further, go on
and persevere, we should act contrary to the
spirit and temper of the gospel. This is the
principal design of this discourse.

1. Let us first examine the example of St.
Paul. St. Paul did not think that if he lived
hereafter in indolence without endeavouring to
make new advances, he had any right to expect
the benefits of the gospel: no Christian, there
fore, living in indolence, arid making no new
advances, ought to flatter himself that he is en
titled to the blessings of the gospel. In order
to perceive this consequence, form a just notion
of the virtue of our apostle, and consider Paul
as a zealot, Paul as a proselyte, Paul as an
apostle, and Paul as a martyr, and you will
allow he was a great character, a Christian of
the highest order; and that if, with all his emi
nent virtues, he thought himself obliged to ac
quire yet more eminent virtue, every Christian
ought to form the same idea of his own duty.

Consider Paul as a zealot. Perhaps you may
be surprised at our passing an encomium on
this part of his life. Certainly we shall not
undertake to make an apology for that cruel
and barbarous zeal which made use of fire and
Wood, and which put racks for arguments, and
gibbets for demonstrations. But the purest life
has its blots; and the most generous heart its
frailties. In that fatal necessity of imperfection
which is imposed on all mankind, there are
some defiled streams, so to speak, which flow
from pure springs; some people, and the apostle
was one, who sin from an excess of virtue.
What idea then must we form of this man, and
what shall we say of his virtues, since his vices
were effects of such an excellent cause? This
odious part of his life, which he wished to bury
in oblivion, that barbarity and madness, that
industry to inflame the synagogue, and to stir
up all the world, all this, strictly speaking, and
oroperly explained, was worthy of praise. He

I maintained error. Why? Because he thought

j it was truth, and respected it accordingly. He
persecuted, because he loved; he was mad, be
cause he was zealous; zeal, as I said just now,
misguided, but zeal, however; a criminal indis
cretion indeed, but an indiscretion, which in a
moral abstraction, may be considered as a vir
tue.

Consider Paul as a proselyte. A man edu
cated in opinions opposite to Christianity, in
fatuated with popular errors, prejudiced with

| ideas of a temporal Messiah, accustomed to
consider Jesus Christ as an impostor, and his
religion as a plot concerted by knaves, this
man changes his ideas, and his whole system
of religion, and worships the crucified Jesus,
who was " to the Jew a stumbling block, and
to the Greek foolishness," 1 Cor. i. 23. The
first lesson from heaven persuades him, the first
knock at the door of his heart opens it, his
conversion is affected in a moment. " I went
not up to Jerusalem," said he; " I conferred
not with flesh and blood," Gal. i. 16, 17.
What a fund of virtue instantly had this man
in his heart! Of all characters in life there are
few so respectable as that of a real proselyte.
A man who changes his religion on pure prin
ciples, has a greatness of soul above common
men. I venture to advance this general max
im, that a man who changes his religion, must
be consummate either in virtue or vice. If
he be insincere, he is a wretch; if he be not a
wretch, he is a hero. He is a hero if his virtue
be sincere, if he makes generous efforts to
correct errors imbibed in his earliest youth, if
he can see without trembling that path of tri
bulation which ia generally opened to such as
forsake their religion, and if he can bear all the
suppositions which are generally made against
them who renounce the profession of their
ancestors; if, I say, he'can do all this, he is a
hero. On the contrary, none but a wretch
can embark in such an undertaking, if he be
destitute of the dispositions necessary to suc
cess. When such a man forsakes his former
profession of religion, there is reason t<5 suppose
that human motives have done what love of
truth could not do; and that he embraces his
new religion, not because it appears to him
more worthy of his attention and respect, but
because it is more suitable to his interest. Now
to embrace a religion for worldly interest is
almost the highest pitch of wickedness. Our
maxim admits of very few exceptions, and
most proselytes are either men of eminent
virtue or abandoned wretches; and as we are
happy to acknowledge there are several of the
first kind in this age, so with sorrow we are
obliged to allow, that there are a great number
of the latter. Let St. Paul be judged by the
utmost rigour of this maxim. He was a hero
in Christianity. The principle that engaged
him to embrace the gospel, diffused itself
through all his life, and every one of his actions
verified the sincerity of his conversion.

St. Paul was born for great things; he it was
whom God chose for an apostle to the Gentiles.
He did not stop in the porch of the Lord's
house, he quickly passed into the holy placei
he was only a very short time a catechumen
in the school of Christ; he soon became a

I master, a minister, an apostle; and in all these

SER. LIIL]

PROGRESSIVE RELIGION.

13

eminent offices he carried virtue to a higher
pitch than it had ever been carried before him,
and perhaps beyond what it will ever be prac
tised after him. In effect, what qualities ought
a minister of the gospel to possess which St.
Paul did not possess in the highest degree? Is
it assiduity? " Ye remember, brethren," said
he, " our labour and travel, for labouring night
and day we preached unto you the gospel of
God," 1 Thess. ii. 9. Is it gentleness? " We
were gentle among you, even as a nurse cher-
isheth her children. You know how we ex
horted, and comforted, and charged every one
of you, as a father doth his children, that ye
would walk worthy of God," chap. ii. 7. 11,
12. Is it prudence? " Unto the Jews I became
as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to them
that are without law as without law, that I
might gain them that are without law. I am
made all things to all men, that I might by all
means save some," 2 Cor. ix. 20. 22. Is it
charity? " I could wish that myself were ac
cursed from Christ for my brethren," Rom.
ix. 3. " I will very gladly spend and be spent
for you," 2 Cor. xii. 15. Is it courage? He
resisted St. Peter, and " withstood him to the
face, because he was to be blamed," Gal. ii.
11. "He reasoned of righteousness, temper
ance, and judgment to come, before Felix and
Drusilla," Acts xxiv. 25. Is it disinterested
ness in regard to the world? " We sought not
glory of men, neither of you, nor yet of others.
We speak the gospel not as pleasing men, but
God, which trieth our hearts," 1 Thess. ii. 6.
4. Is it zeal? " His spirit was stirred in him
at Athens, when he saw the city wholly given
to idolatry," Acts xvii. 16. Then, like the
prophet of old, he became " very jealous for
the Lord of hosts," 1 Kings xix. 10. Is it to
support the honour of his ministry? "Let a
man so account of us, as of the ministers of
Christ," 1 Cor. iv. 1. "We are ambassadors
for Christ, as though God did beseecli you by
us," 2 Cor. v. 20. " It were better for me to
die, than that any man should make rny glory
ing void," 1 Cor. ix. 15. Jesus Christ was tiie
model, by which St. Paul formed himself; " be
ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ,"
chap. xi. 1. When students turn their atten
tion to the Christian ministry, models of such
as have distinguished themselves in this office
are proposed to their imitation. The imagina
tion of one, the judgment of another, the gra
vity of a third, and the learning of a fourth are
set before them, and from good originals very
often we receive bad copies. St. Paul chose his

Kattern. His master, his model, his original,
is all, was Jesus Christ; and he copied every
stroke of his original, " be ye followers of me,
even as I also am of Christ."

But, though it is always commendable to
discharge this holy office well, yet it is par
ticularly so in some circumstances; and our
apostle was in such, for he officiated when the
whole world was enraged against Christians.
Consider him then on the stage of martyrdom.
What would now be our glory was then his
disgrace; assiduity, gentleness, zeal, and all
ihe other virtues just now mentioned, drew
upon him the most envenomed jealousy, accu
sations the most atrocious, and persecutions the
most cruel. It was in this light, God set the

ministry before him at first, " I will show him
how great things he must suffer for my name
sake," Acts ix. 16. Show him how great
things he must suffer for my name sake! What
a motive to engage a man to undertake an
office! Now-a-days, in order to give a great
idea of a church, it is said, it has such and such
advantages, so much in cash, so much in small
tithes, and so much in great tithes. St. Paul
saw the ministry only as a path full of thorns
and briars, and he experienced, through all the
course of his life, the truth of that idea which
was given him of his office. Hear the catalogue
of his sufferings. " Of the Jews five times
received I forty stripes save one. Thrice was
I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I
suffered shipwreck; a night and a day have I
been in the deep. In journeyings often, in
perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils
by mine own countrymen, in perils by tho
heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the
wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among
false brethren; in weariness and painfulness,
in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in
fastings often, in cold and nakedness," 2 Cor.
xi. 24 — 27. Good God! What a salary for a
minister; hunger, thirst, fastings, nakedness,
peril, persecution, death! In our case, we car.
die but once, and virtue considers the proximity
of the crown of righteousness, which being
suspended immediately over the head of the
martyr, supports him under the pains of mar
tyrdom; but the ministry of St. Paul was a
perpetual martyrdom; his life was a continual
death. " I think that God hath set forth us
the apostles last, as it were appointed to death.
For we are made a spectacle unto the world,
and to angels, and to men," 1 Cor. iv. 9.

Here we finish the eulogium of our apostle,
and, by uniting the parts of this slight sketch,
we obtain a just portrait of the man. Do you
know a greater than St. Paul? Can you con
ceive virtue in a more eminent degree? Behold
a man fired with zeal, making what he thought
the cause of God his own cause, God's enemies
his enemies, the interest of God the interest of
himself. Behold a man, who turns his atten
tion to truth, and, the moment he discovers it,
embraces, and openly avows it. Behold a man
who, not content to be an ordinary Christian,
and to save himself alone, aspiring at the glory
of carrying through the whole world for public
advantage, that light which had illuminated
himself. Behold a man preaching, writing;
what am I saying? Behold a man suffering,
dying, and sealing with his own blood the
truths he taught. An ardent zealot, a sincere
convert, an accomplished minister, a bleeding
martyr, learned in his errors, and, if I may be
allowed to speak so, regular in his mistakes,
and virtuous even in his crimes. Show me in
the modern or primitive church a greater cha
racter than St. Paul. Let any man produce a
Christian who had more reason to be satisfied
with himself, and who had more right to pre
tend that he had discharged all his duties. Yet
this very man, this Paul, " forgat those things
which were behind!" This very Paul was
" pressing forward!" This is the man who
feared he should " be a cast-away!" And you,
" smoking flax," you " bruised reed," you,
who have hardly taken root in the Christian

14

THE NECESSITY OF

[SER. LIH.

soil, you, who have hardly a spark of love to
God, do you think your piety sufficient! Are
vou the man to leave off endeavouring to make
new advances!

Perhaps you may say, the text is not to be
taken literally, it is the language of humility,
and resembles what St. Paul says in another
place, I am the " chief of sinners;" agreeably
to his own direction, that each Christian
" should esteem another better than himself,"
and which he calls, very justly, " lowliness of
mind." No such thing, my brethren, you will
be convinced of the contrary by the following
reflections.

2. We ground the necessity of progressive
religion on the great end of Christianity. Form,
if it be possible, a just notion of Christianity.
I say if it be possible; for we have an unaccount
able reluctance to understand our own religion.
We have all a strange propensity to disguise
the character of a true Christian, and to keep
ourselves ignorant of it. We have the holy
Scriptures, and in them the gospel plan of re
demption before our eyes every day; and every
day we throw over them a variety of preju
dices, which suppress the truth, and prevent
us from seeing its beauty. One forms of Chris
tianity an idea of indolence and relaxation,
and, under pretence that the gospel speaks of
mercy and grace, persuades himself that he may
give a loose to all his natural evil dispositions.
Another imagines the gospel a body of discip
line, the principal design of which was to regu
late society; so that provided we be pretty good
parents, tolerable magistrates, and as good
subjects as other people, we ought all to be
content with ourselves. - A third thinks, to be
a Christian is to defend with constant heat
certain points which he elevates into capital
doctrines, essential to holiness here, and to
salvation hereafter. A fourth, more unjust
than all the rest, supposes the first duty of a
Christian is to be sure of his own salvation.
Each wanders after his own fancy.

It should seem, however, that the more we
consult the gospel, the more fully shall we be
convinced, that its design is to engage us to
aspire at perfection, to transform man, to render
him as perfect as he was wiien he carne out of
the hands of his Creator, "to renew him after
the image of him that created him," to make
him approach the nature of glorified saints, and,
to say all in one word, to transform him into
the divine nature. This is Christianity. This
it is to be a Christian; and consequently a
Christian is a man called to be u perfect as his
Father which is in heaven is perfect;" to be
one with God, as Jesus Christ is one with
God.

This definition of a Christian and of Chris
tianity, is justified by all we see in the gospel.
For why does it every where propose perfection
for our end, heaven to our hope. God for our
model? Why does it teach us to consider the
good things of the world as evils, and the evils
of the world as benefits, human virtues as vices,
and what men call vice as virtue? Why all
this? All beside the matter, unless the gospel
proposes to renew man, to transform him, and
to make him approach the perfect Being.

From these principles we conclude this. —
Since the gospel requires us to endeavour to

" be perfect as our Father which is in heaven
is perfect," we ought never to cease endea
vouring till we are " as perfect as our Father
which is in heaven is perfect." Since the
gospel requires us to labour to become, by a
transformation of our being, one with God, as
Jesus Christ is one with God, we ought never
to give over our endeavours till we do become
one with God. Moreover, as we shall never
in this life carry our virtue to so high a degree
as to be perfect as our Father is perfect, holy
as God is holy, one with God as .lesus Christ
is one with God, it follows to a demonstration,
that in no period of our life will our duty be
finished; consequently, we must make con
tinual progress, if we would answer our en
gagements; and consequently there is no point
fixed in the career of virtue, in which it would
be allowable to stop; and consequently, St.
Paul ought to be understood literally, when he
says of himself, " I count not myself to have
apprehended; I therefore so run, not as un
certainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth
the air. But I keep under rny body, and bring
it into subjection, lest that by any means, wheu

, I have preached to others, I myself should be

' a cast-away," Phil. iii. 13; and consequently,
of all the excuses, of all the pretexts, of all the
sophisms, which were ever invented to palliate
that slowness with which we walk in the way
of virtue, there are none more frivolous than
these — we are not saints, we cannot be perfect,
we cannot put off human nature; for it is be
cause you are not saints, it is because you are
not perfect, it is because you cannot put off

. human nature, it is on this account, that you
ought to make a continual progress in Chris
tian virtue, that the sincerity, and, so to speak,
the obstinacy of your efforts may make up for
imperfections.

i 3. Our third class of proofs is taken from the
fatal consequences of a cessation of our efforts, a

| suspension of our religious endeavours. Were
it literally true that we could arrive at that

, state of perfection which the gospel requires of

'

us; could we actually finish the morality of
religion it would still follow, that we must
make new efforts during our residence in this
world; and that without these our past labours
would be useless. A man employed in a me
chanical art prepares his materials, sets about
his work, and carries it on to a certain degree.
He suspends his labour for a while; his work
does not advance, indeed, bat our artist has at
least this advantage over us, when he returns
to his labour, he finds his work in the same for
wardness in which he left it. Heavenly exer
cises are not of this kind. Past labour is often
lost for want of perseverance; and, it is a cer
tain maxim in religion, that not to proceed is
to draw back.

Vice is closely connected with human pro
pensities. Virtue, on the contrary, is directly
opposite. As soon as you cease to endeavour
to retain what opposes your propensities, na
ture takes its course. You carry within you,
so to speak, a worker of iniquity, who con
stantly labours at the fatal work of your de
pravity. This workman is the old man. He
every day gets forward, every day confirms you
in sin, every day strengthens your attachment
to sensible objects, every day ties you with

SER. LIII.]

PROGRESSIVE RELIGION.

15

fresh bands to earthly things. If you do not op
pose labour against labour, reflection against re
flection, motive against motive, progress against
progress, you will be defeated.

In these observations we find an answer to
an objection, constantly repeated when we con
demn that perpetual dissipation, that exces
sive gaming, and those reiterated amusements
which consume the greatest part of your lives.
You perpetually complain, that we overstrain
matters, that we aggravate things, that the
yoke of Christ is easy, and his burden is light,
and that we make the one uneasy, and the
other heavy. You constantly allege, that re
ligion is not intended to put man on the rack,
but to conduct him to reason: that the gospel
is not contrary to a thousand pleasures which
society offers us, and that, after all, the things
we condemn are indifferent. I grant, religion
does not condemn pleasures. I grant more,
the pleasures you refer to are indifferent in
their nature, that they have no bad influence,
no treachery, no calumny in your conversation;
no fraud, no swearing, no sordid interest in
your gaming, no lax maxims, no profaneness,
no immodesty in your amusements; I grant all
this: Yet, after all, it is a fact, that, as the new
man suspends his work, the old man advances
his. It is always true, for example, that when
a sermon has made some impressions on your
hearts, when the lukewarm are aroused, when
the impenitent are terrified, those other objects
efface these impressions; and, though they may
not lead you into the commission of fresh
crimes, yet they make you relapse into that
first state of depravity from which you seemed
to be emerging.

4. A fourth source of proofs in favour of
the necessity of progress is, the advances them
selves which are made in the path of holiness.
The science of salvation in this respect resem
bles human sciences. In human sciences we
see a very singular phenomenon. A man of
great and real learning is humble, he always
speaks with caution, he pronounces always
with circumspection, he determines a point
trembling, and his answers to difficult questions
are not unfrequently confessions of his igno
rance. On the contrary, a pedant assumes the
state of a superior genius; he knows every
thing, and undertakes to elucidate and deter
mine every thing. Both these men are in
earnest, both are sincere. The learned man
speaks very sincerely: for, as he has made
great advances in literature, he knows the ex
tent of it; he knows that nature has difficul
ties, Providence has depths, religion has mys
teries: such a man becomes humble as he be
comes able, and the more he acquires, the more
he feels the need of acquiring. On the con
trary, a pedant does not even know what learn
ing is, he stops on the beach, sees a little way,
takes that little for the whole, and easily per
suades himself that he knows all.

Thus in the science of salvation, a man of
little religion, who has only a languishing re
gard for God, and a few superficial ideas of
virtue, soon flatters himself that he has done
all liis duty, employed all his love, and carried
fervour to its highest degree. A man of lively
and vigorous religion does not stop on the
shore, he goes aboard a fast sailer, weighs an

chor, and sets sail on that ocean of truth which
religion sets before him, and he soon finds im
mense spaces before him; or to speak without,
a figure, he finds his own virtues so few in
number, so limited in degree, so obstructed in
their course, and so mixed in their exercise,
that he easily comes into a well-grounded
judgment, that all he has attained is nothing
to what lies before him. As he meditates on
his sins, he finds them so great, so numerous,
so odious, so dangerous, that he cannot compre
hend how it is that his heart does, not break,
and his eyes become fountains of tears. As lie
meditates on the nature of this world, he finds
it so vain in its occupations, so puerile in its
pleasures, so void in its amusements, its friend
ships so deceitful, and its duration so short,
that he cannot comprehend what should detain
him in the world. As he meditates on the fe
licity of heaven, he finds it so substantial and
pure, so splendid and satisfactory, that he can
not conceive what should detain him, arid pre
vent his losing sight of the world and ascend
ing to heaven. As he meditates on the Crea
tor, he finds him so wise, so just, so good, so
lovely, that he cannot imagine why his heart
does not always burn with flames of love
to him.

Such is the effect of perseverance in a path
of virtue! Accordingly we find the greatest
saints the most eminent for humility. Abra
ham durst not " take upon him to speak unto
the Lord, because he was only dust arid ashes,"
Gen. xviii. 27. Job, "though he were right
eous, yet would not answer, but made suppli
cation to his judge," chap. ix. 15.

David " could not stand, if the Lord, should
mark iniquities," Ps. cxxx. 3. St. Paul did
not think he had attained, Phil. iii. 12. To
say all in one word, celestial intelligences, who
were never embodied, the seraphim placed im
mediately opposite the throne of God, with
two wings, ready to fly at the command of the
Creator, have also four wings to cover their
feet and faces, to express, that their zeal, how
fervent and flaming soever, cannot equal what
that God merits, whom they incessantly admire
and adore.

5. Our fifth class of proofs is taken from
the excellence of the ministry. St. Paul was
not an ordinary Christian: he was the minister
of the gospel, and the greatness of his charac
ter was to him a ground of humility and dif
fidence.

Although the duties of ministers, and the
duties of hearers, are essentially the same;
though there are not two ways to heaven, one
for the pastor, and another for the flock, yet, it
is certain, ministers have more motives to holi
ness than other men.

What would the people say, if the minister
of the pulpit, and the minister of society, were
two men? If the minister of the pulpit de
claimed against the vanities of the world, and
the minister of society were worldly? If the
minister of the pulpit were a man, grave, se
vere, fervent as a seraph: and the minister of
society were a man loose, and full of worldly
vices? Certainly people would say we sported
with their credulity; and many a mouth would
thunder in our ears this cutting reproach,
" Thou which teachest another, teachest thou

16

THE NECESSITY OF

. LIH,

not thyself ? Thou that preachest a.man should
not steal, dost thou steal? Thou that ab-
Vorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?"
Rom. ii. 21.

Besides, a minister has two works to do in
regard to salvation, his own soul to save, and
the souls of his people to save. Each of these
becomes a reason for his own sanctificatiou.
"For their sakes I sanctify myself," said the
Saviour of the world, " that they also might
be sanctified," John xvii. 19. Interpreters un
derstand by this sanctification, that separation
which Jesus Christ made of himself for the
salvation of his church; but may we not un
derstand the word sanctify in the first part of
the proposition, as we understand the same
word in the second? " For their sakes I sanc
tify myself," is as much as to say, I obey thee,
not only because, being a creature, I owe thee
an inviolable fidelity, but because, being the
master and teacher of thy church, I ought to
influence it by my own example.

Further, a minister of the gospel has extra
ordinary assistance, he is always with God,
virtue is constantly before his eyes, and though
almost all other employments in society have
connected with them particular temptations to
vice, the profession of a merchant to self-inte
rest, that of a soldier to cruelty, that of a ma
gistrate to pride, yet the ministry is itself an
inducement to virtue. Such being the impor
tance of our engagements, and the eminence
of our character, who can flatter himself with
having discharged all his duties? Who can
venture to lift up his eyes to heaven? Who
is not annihilated under a sense of his imper
fections and frailties? " O Lord, enter not into
judgment with thy servant," Ps. cxliii. 2.

Finally, The necessity of progressive sanc
tification appears by the end which God pro
posed in placing us in this world. We are of
ten troubled to conceive why God lodged man,
a creature so noble, in a theatre of vanity and
uncertainty. What is our life of thirty, forty,
or fourscore years, to the immense duration of
eternity? How can we reconcile the part we
act here, with the wisdom of him who placed
us here; and, if I may speak so, the littleness
of the world with the grandeur of its inhabi
tants? What destination do you assign to
man? What end do you attribute to his Crea
tor? Why did he place him in this world? Was
it to make him happy? But what! can he be
made happy among objects so very dispro-
portional to his faculties? Are not his fortune
and reputation, his health and his life, a prey
to all human vicissitudes? Was it to make him
miserable? But how can this agree with the
divine perfections; with that goodness, liber
ality and beneficence, which are essential to
God? Was it to enable him to cultivate arts
and sciences? But what relation is there be
tween an occupation so mean and a creature so
noble? Besides, would life then have been so
short' Alas, we hardly make any progress in
arts and sciences, before they become useless
to us! Before we have well passed out of in
fancy and novitiate, death puts a period to our
projects, and takes away from us all the fruits
of learning and labour. Before we have well
learned languages, death condemns us to eter
nal silence- Before we well know the world, we

are obliged to quit it; and we die when we are
just learning to live. If the famous Theo-
phrastus, at the age of one hundred and seven
years, regretted life, because he just then began
to live wisely, what lamentations must other
men make? What then was the design of
God in placing us here? Was it that we should
form and refine society? But how can a soci
ety composed of creatures transient and im
perfect, be considered as a real and substantial
body of bliss? If it has some solidity and re
ality, when considered abstractly, yet what is
it in itself? What is it to you? What is it to
me? What is it to any individual member?
Does not one law reduce all to dust?

My brethren, there is only one way out of
this labyrinth. One single answer is sufficient
for all these questions. This world is a place
of exercise, this life is a time of trial, which is
given us that we may choose either eternal
happiness or endless misery.

To this belong all the different ideas, which
the Holy Spirit gives us of life. Sometimes it
is a state of traffic, in which eternal reward is
given for a " cup of cold water only." Some
times it is a state of tribulation, in which
" light affliction, which is but for a moment,
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eter
nal weight of glory." Sometimes it is a pas
sage way, in which we are to behave as
" strangers and pilgrims." Sometimes it is an
economy of visitation, in which " richness of
goodness, and forbearance, and long-suffering,
are opened to us." Sometimes it is a " race,"
in which "all run, but one receivelh the
prize." Sometimes it is a fight, in which we
cannot hope to conquer, unless we fight with
courage and constancy.

To this subject belongs the Scriptural esti
mation of life. Sometimes it speaks of life as
mean and contemptible; and at other times, on.
the contrary, as great and invaluable. Some
times it heaps expression upon expression, im
age upon image, emblem upon emblem, to
make us consider it with contempt. It is "a
shadow, a vanity, a flower, a grass, a vapour,
a dream, a tale, a vain show, nothing" before
God. And yet this "vain shadow," this
" flower," this " vapour," this " dream," this
"tale," this "show," this "nothing," the
Scriptures teach us to consider as a time for us
to " redeem," as an " acceptable time," as a
"day of salvation," as a time after which
there will be "time no longer." Why this
different estimation? If you consider life in
regard to itself, and with a view to the connex
ions we form, the pleasures we relish, the tem
poral occupations we follow: if you consider it
in regard to sceptres and thrones, crowns and
establishments the most pompous and solid,
you cannot underrate life. On the contrary,
if you consider it in regard to the great design
of the Creator, in regard to the relation it lias
to eternity, in regard to that idea which we
have given you of it, you cannot value it too
highly. This world then is a place of exercise,
life is a time of trial, given us that we might
choose eternal happiness or endless misery.

This principle being allowed, our doctrine is
supported by a new class of arguments; for be
it granted that you remember nothing in your
past life contrary to your profession of Chris-

SER. LIIL]

tianity; be it that you resemble St. Paul in all
his excellencies after conversion, and in none
of the crimes which he committed before that
happy period; the only conclusion which you
have a right to draw is, that you have perform
ed a part of your task, but not that there re
mains nothing more for you to do. You are
nearer the end than they who have not run so
fast in the race as you have, but you have not
yet obtained the prize. You have discharged
the duties of youth, and the duties of manhood,
now the duties of old age remain to be dis
charged. You have discharged all the duties
of health, now the duties of sickness and dying
remain to be discharged. This world is a
place of exercise; while you are in it your ex
ercise is not finished; life is a time of trial; as
long as you live your trial remains.

Let us conclude. Were we to act rational
ly, we should always fix our minds on these
truths; we should never end a day without
putting this question to ourselves. What pro
gress have I made in virtue? Have I this day
approached the end of my creation? And as
the time of my abode here diminishes, do I
advance in proportion to the time that remains?
We should require of ourselves an exact ac
count of every day, every hour, every instant
of our duration; but this is not the gospel of
most Christians. What we have been propos
ing, seem to most hearers mere maxims of the
preacher, more proper to adorn a public dis
course, than to compose a system of religion.
Why are not ecclesiastical bodies as rigid
and severe against heresies of practice, as they
are against heresies of speculation? Certainly
there are heresies in morality, as well as in
theology. Councils and synods reduce the doc
trines of faith to certain prepositional points,
and thunder anathemas against all who refuse
to subscribe them. They say, Cursed be Ke
who does not believe the divinity of Christ:
cursed be he who does not believe hypostatical
union, and the mystery of the cross; cursed be
he who denies the inward operations of grace,
and the irresistible efficacy of the Holy Spirit.
I wish they would make a few canons against
moral heresies! How many are there of this
kind among our people? Among our people
we may put many who are in another class.
Let me make canons. In the first I would put
heresy too common, that is, that the calling
of a Christian consists less in the practice of
virtue, than in abstaining from gross vices;
and I would say, if any man think that he suf
ficiently answers the obligations of Christianity,
by not being avaricious, oppressive, and intem
perate, if he do not allow that he ought to be
zealous, fervent, and detached from the world,
let him be accursed. In a second canon, I
would put another heresy, equally general, and
equally dangerous, and which regards the delay
of conversion; and I would say, If any one
imagine that, after a life spent in sin, a few re
grets, proceeding more from a fear of death and
hell, than from a principle of love to God, are
sufficient to open the gates of heaven, let him
be accursed. In a third canon I would put
.... fill up the list yourselves, my brethren,
and let us return to our subject. To confine
one's self to a certain circle of virtues, to stop
at a fixed point, to be satisfied with a given
VOL. II.— 3

PROGRESSIVE RELIGION.

17

degree of piety, is an error; it is a heresy,
which deserves as many anathemas, and eccle
siastical thunders, as all the others which have
been unanimously denounced by all Christians.
My brethren, let us rectify our ideas, in or
der to rectify our conduct. " Let us run with
patience the race set before us," let us go on
till we can say with St. Paul, " I have finished
my course." Be not terrified at this idea of
progressive religion. Some great efforts must
have been made by all holy men in this place
to arrive at that degree of virtue which they
have obtained; but the hardest part of the
work is done; henceforward what remains is
easy. The way to heaven is narrow at the
entrance, but it widens as we go on. The
yoke of Christ is heavy at first, but it weighs
little when it has been long worn.

After all there is a way of softening all the
pains to which we are exposed, by continuing
our efforts. St. Paul practised this art with
great success; it consists in fixing the eye on
the end of the race. At the end of the race,
he saw two objects: — The first the prize. How
easy to brave the enemies of salvation, when
the eye is full of the prospect of it! How
tolerable appear the pains of the present state,
when the " sufferings of the present time are
compared with, and weighed against, the glory
that follows." Next, St. Paul saw Jesus Christ
at the end of the race, another object which
animated him. He was animated by the ex
ample of Christ, to finish his course with joy;
he was animated by the assistances which sup
ported him; he was animated by the promise
of Christ telling him, " He that overcometh
shall sit down in my throne;" he was animated
by the mercy, which he knew, how weak so
ever his efforts might be, would be approved
at the tribunal of Jesus Christ, provided they
were sincere; for Jesus himself conquered for
him, and himself acquired that prize for the
apostle at which he aspired; in a word, he was
animated by his love; Jesus Christ is at the
end of the race, and Paul loved Jesus Christ,
and longed to be with him. I said, he saw
;wo objects, the prize of victory, and Jesus
Christ; but these make only one object. St.
Paul's prize is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is
Paul's paradise. According to him, Christ is
;he most desirable part of celestial felicity:
' Whilst we are at home in the body, we are
absent from the Lord; we are willing rather to
)e absent from the body, and to be present
vith the Lord," 2 Cor. v. 6. 8. " I desire to
depart, and to be with Christ," Phil. i. 23, " I
>ress toward the prize of the high calling of
jod in Christ Jesus," chap. iii. 14. This
hought, that every step he took brought him
nearer to Jesus Christ, this thought rendered
him insensible to all the fatigue of the race,
and enabled him to redouble his efforts to
arrive at the end.

O flames of divine love! Shall we never
snow you except by the examples of the
>rimitive Christians! O flames of divine love,
which we have so often described, shall we
never feel you in our own souk? Fire us, in
flame us with your ardour, and make us un
derstand that all things are easy to the man who
sincerely loves God! God grant us this grace'
To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

18

THE MORAL MARTYR.

I.SER. LIV.

SERMON LIV.

THE MORAL MARTYR.

PSALM cxix. 46.
I will speak of thy testimonies also before kings,

and will not be ashamed.
MY BRETHREN,

IT is not only under the reign of a tyrant,
that religion involves its disciples in persecu
tion, it is in times of the greatest tranquillity,
and even when virtue seems to sit on a throne.
A Christian is often subject to punishments dif
ferent from wheels, and racks. People united
to him by the same profession of religion, hav
ing received the same baptism, and called with
him to aspire at the same glory, not unfre-
quently press him to deny Jesus Christ, and
prepare punishments for him, if he have cour
age to confess him. Religion is proposed to
us in two different points of view, a point of
speculation, and a point of practice. Accord
ingly, there are two sorts of martyrdom; a
martyrdom for doctrine, and a martyrdom for
-morality. It is for the last that the prophet
prepares us in the words of the text, and to
~the same end I dedicate the sermon which I
am going to address to you to-day. I come
into the place that affords a happy asylum for
confessors and martyrs, to utter in your hear
ing these words of Jesus Christ, " Whosoever
shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in
this adulterous and sinful generation, of him
also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when
he cometh in the glory of his Father with the
holy angels," Mark viii. 38.

In order to animate you with a proper zeal
for morality, and to engage you, if necessary,
to become martyrs for it, we will treat of the
subject in five different views.

I. We will show you the authors, or, as
they may be justly denominated, the execu
tioners, who punish men with martyrdom for
morality.

II. The magnanimity of such as expose them
selves to it.

III. The horrors that accompany it.

IV. The obligation which engages men to
submit to it.

V. The glory that crowns it.

We will explain these five ideas contained
in the words of the psalmist, " I will speak of
thy testimonies before kings, and will not be
ashamed;" and we will proportion these arti
cles, not to that extent to which they naturally
go, but to the bounds prescribed to these ex-

I. The authors, or as we just now called
them, the executioners, who inflict this punish
ment, are to be considered. The text calls
them kings; " I will speak of thy testimonies
before kings." What king does the psalmist
mean? Saul to whom piety was become odi
ous? or any particular heathen prince, to whom
the persecution of Saul sometimes drove our
prophet for refuge? The name of the God of
the Hebrews was blasphemed among these
barbarians; his worship was called superstition

by them; and it would have been difficult to
profess to fear him and avoid contempt.

It is not easy to determine the persons in
tended by the psalmist, nor is it necessary to
confine the words to either of the senses given;
they may be taken in a more extensive sense.
The word king in the eastern languages, as
well as in those of the western world, is not
confined to kings properly so called; it is
sometimes given to superiors of any rank.
Ask not the reason of this, every language has
its own genius, and custom is a tyrant who
seldom consults reason before he issues orders;
and who generally knows no law but self-will
and caprice. If you insist on a direct answer
to your inquiry concerning the reason of the
general use of the term, I reply, the same pas
sion for despotism which animates kings on
the throne, usually inspire such individuals as
are a little elevated above people around them;
they consider themselves as sovereigns, and
pretend to regal homage. Authority over in
feriors begins this imaginary royalty, and vanity
finishes it. Moreover, such as are called petty
gentry, in the world, are generally more proud
and absolute than real kings; the last frequently
propose nothing but to exercise dominion, but
the first aim both to exercise dominion and to
make a parade of the exercise, lest their im
aginary grandeur should pass unnoticed.

I understand, then, by the vague term kings,
all who have any pre-eminence over the low
est orders of men; and these are they who ex
ercise tyranny, and inflict the martyrdom for
which the prophet in the text prepares us. In
order to comprehend this more fully, contrast
two conditions in the life of David. Remark
first the state of mediocrity, or rather happy
obscurity, in which this holy man was born.
Educated by a father, not rich, but pious, he
was religious from his childhood. As he led a
country life, he met with none of those snares
among his cattle which the great world sets
for our innocence. He gave full scope without
constraint to his love for God, and could affirm,
without hazarding any thing, that God was
supremely lovely. What a contrast! This shep
herd was suddenly called to quit his sheep and
his fields, and to live with courtiers in the palace
of a prince. What a society for a man accustom
ed to regulate his conversation by the laws of
truth, and his conduct by those of virtue! What
a place was this for him to propose those just
and beautiful principles which the Holy Spirit
teaches in the Scriptures, and which are many
of them to be found in the writings of the
psalmist! " I have seen the wicked in power,
and spreading himself like a green bay-tree;
yet he has passed away, and lo, he was not; I
sought him, and he could not be found. Surely
men of high degree are a lie, to be laid in a
balance they are altogether lighter than vanity.
I said, ye are gods, and all of you are the
children of the Most High; but ye shall die
like men. Put not your trust in a prince, in
whom there is no help. His breath goeth forth,
he returneth to his earth, in that very day
bis thoughts perish. He that ruleth his spirit,
s better than he that taketh a city. My son,
the son of my womb, the son of my vows, give
not thy strength unto women, nor thy ways to
that which destroyeth kings. It is not for

SER. LIV.]

THE MORAL MARTYR.

ID

kings, O Lemuel, to drink wine, nor for princes
strong drink, lest they drink, and forget the
law, and pervert the judgment of any of the
afflicted." How would these maxims be re
ceived at some ofVyour courts? They were not
very pleasing at mat of Saul; David was, there
fore, censured by him and his courtiers for pro
posing them. Hear how he expressed him
self in this psalm. " O Lord! remove from
me reproach and contempt. Princes did sit
and speak against me, because thy servant did
meditate in thy statutes. The proud have had
me greatly in derision; yet have I not declined
from thy law," Psa. cxix. 22, 23. 51.

II. Let us pass to the second article, and
consider the magnanimity of such as expose
themselves to this martyrdom. This is natu
rally included in the former remark, concern
ing the executioners who inflict €he punish
ment. My brethren it is impossible to speak
of the testimonies of God before the tyrants in
question, without being accused either of a
spirit of rebellion, aversion to social pleasures,
or rusticity and pedantry; three dispositions
which the great seldom forgive.

The martyr for morality is sometimes taxed
with a spirit of rebellion. Perhaps you might
have thought I spoke extravagantly, when I
affirmed, that most men consider themselves
as kings in regard to their inferiors. I venture,
however, to affirm a greater paradox still; that
is, they consider themselves as gods, and de
mand such homage to be paid to their fancied
divinity as is due to none but to the true God.
I grant great men do not all assume the place of
God with equal arrogance. There are not many
Pharaohs who adopt this brutal language,
"Who is the Lord, that I should obey his
voice?" Exod. v. 2. There are but few Sen-
nacheribs, who are so extravagant as to say to
the people of God, "Beware lest Hezekiah
persuade you, saying, The Lord will deliver us.
Hath any of the gods of the nations delivered
his land out of the hand of the king of Assyria?
Where are the gods of Hamath and Arphad?
Where are the gods of Sepharvaim?" Isa.
xxxvi. 18, 19.

But, though the great men of the world do
not always assume the place of God with so
much brutal insolence, yet they do assume it.
Though they do not say to their inferiors in so
many words, Obey us rather than God, yet do
they not say it in effect? Is it possible to op
pose their fancy with impunity? Is it safe to
establish the rights of God in their presence?
What success had Elijah at the court of Ahab?
Micaiah at that of Jehosaphat? John the Bap
tist at that of Herod?

We need not go back to remote times.
What success have we had among you, when
we have undertaken to allege the rights of
God m some circumstances? For example,
when we have endeavoured to convince you,
that to aspire at the office of a judge, without
talents essential to the discharge of it, is to in
cur the guilt of all the unjust sentences that
may be pronounced; that to stupify the under
standing by debauchery, to drown reason in
intemperance, to dissipate the spirits by sensual
pleasures, when going to determine questions
which regard the lives and fortunes of mankind,
is to rob men of their property, and to plunge

a dagger into their bosoms; that to be so ab
sorbed in forming public treatises, and in the
prosperity of the states, as to lose sight of the
interests of religion, is equal t» placing hope
in the present life, and renouncing all expecta
tion of a life to come; that to render one's
self inaccessible to the solicitations of widows
and orphans, while we fill offices created for
their service, is to usurp honours for the sake
of emoluments; that to suffer the publication
of scandalous books, and the practice of public
debauchery, under pretence of toleration and
liberty, is to arm God against a state, though
states subsist only by his protection. Let us
not repeat forgotten grievances, let us not, by
multiplying these objects, run the hazard of in
creasing the number of arguments which justify
our proposition. " To speak of the testimo
nies of God before kings," is to expose one's
self to a charge of rebellion, and to such pun
ishments as ought to be reserved for real in
cendiaries and rebels.

2. As the great men of the world would
have us respect their rank, so they are equally
jealous of their pleasures; and most men form
ing maxims of pleasure more or less lax, ac
cording as their rank is more or less eminent,
licentiousness grows along with credit and for
tune. A man who made a scruple of being
absent- from an exercise of religion, when he
could hardly provide bread for the day, has
not even' attended the Lord's supper since he
became master of a thousand a year. A man
whose conscience would not suffer him to fre
quent some companies, when he walked afoot,
is become a subscriber to public gaming houses
now he keeps a carriage. A man who would
have blushed at immodest language in private
life, keeps, without scruple, a prostitute, now
he is become a public man. Lift your eyes a
little higher, lift them above metaphorical
kings, and look at kings properly so called.
Adultery, incest, and other abominations, more
fit for beasts than men? what am I saying?
abominations to which beasts never abandon
themselves, and of which men only are capable,
are not these abominations considered as sports
in the palaces of some princes? This is what
I said, licentiousness increases with credit and
fortune. The maxims which men form con
cerning pleasures, are more or less loose ac
cording as their rank is more or less eminent.
In general, that detachment from the world
which religion proposes to produce in our
hearts, that spirit of repentance with which it
aims to inspire us, those images of death which
it perpetually sets before us, those plans of fe
licity disengaged from matter, to which it in
vites us; all these ideas are tasteless to the
great; we cannot propose them amidst their
intoxicating pleasures without being considered
as enemies of pleasure, as scourges to society.

3. When we speak of the testimonies of God
before the great, we are taxed with rusticity
and pedantry. There is, among men, a mis
named science, without which we cannot ap
pear great in the world; it is called politeness,
or good-breeding. ' This science consists in
adopting, at least in feigning to adopt, all the
passions and prejudices of the great, in taking .
such forms as they like, in regulating ideas of
right and wrong by their caprice, in condemn-

20

THE MORAL MARTYR.

LIV.

ing what they condemn, and in approving what
they approve. In one word, politeness, in the
style of the great, is that suppleness which
keeps a man* always prepared to change his
system of morality and religion according to
their fancies. Not to have this disposition, to
have invariable ideas, and invariable objects
of pursuit, to be inconvertible in religion, to
have the laws of God always before our eyes,
or, as the Scripture speaks, to " walk before
him," is in the style of people of the world, to
have no breeding, to be a bad courtier, to be
possessed with that kind of folly which renders
it proper for us, though not to be confined with
lunatics, yet to be banished from the company
of people of birth and quality, as they call
themselves, and to be stationed in closets and
cells.

III. Thus we have seen both the execution
ers who punish morality with martyrdom, and
the magnanimity which exposes a man to the
punishment: and these are sufficient to expose
our third article, the horrors, that accompany
it. I have no ideas sufficiently great of the
bulk of my auditors, to engage me to be very
exact in expounding this third article. I fear,
were I to enlarge on this part of my subject,
I should raise insurmountable obstacles to the
end which I should propose in opening the
subject. Forgive an opinion so inglorious to
your piety, but too well adjusted to the imper
fections of it. We dare not form such a plan
for you as Jesus Christ formed for St. Paul,
when speaking of this new proselyte to Anani
as, he told him, " I will show him how great
things he must suffer for my name's sake,"
Acts ix. 16. Martyrdom for doctrines, I grant,
seems at first more shocking than martyrdom
for morality; but, taken altogether, it is per
haps less insupportable. To die for religion is
not always the worst thing in the calling of a
Christian. Virtue wakes up into vigour in
these circumstances, and renders itself invinci
ble by its efforts. Even worldly honours some
times come to embolden. That kind of he
roism which is attributed to a man making
such a splendid sacrifice, supports under ex
quisite torments.

There is another kind of suffering, longer
and more fatiguing, and therefore more diffi
cult. It is a profession, a detail, a trade of suf
fering, if I may express myself so. To see one's
self called to live among men whom we are al
ways obliged to contradict upon subjects for
which they discover the greatest sensibility; to
be excluded from all their pleasures; never to
be admitted into their company, except when
they are under afflictions and restraints; to
hear one's looks and habits turned into ridi
cule, as they said of the prophet Elisha, " He
is a hairy man, and girt with a girdle of leather
»about his loins," 2 Kings i. 8: What a punish
ment! Men who have withstood all the terrors
of racks and dungeons, have yielded to the vio
lence of this kind of persecution and martyr
dom. We will not be insensible of the frailty
of our auditors, and therefore, we will omit a
discussion of the acute and horrid pains of this
kind of martyrdom.

IV. We are to treat, fourthly, of the obliga
tion of speaking of the testimonies of God be
fore kings. We ground this on the nature of

this duty. You have heard, that it consists in
urging the rights of God before great men;
and, though it be at the hazard of all the com
forts and pleasures of life, in professing to re
spect the moral part of religion. We do not
mean an unseasonable and indiscreet manner
of doing so. The duty of confessing Jesus
Christ before tyrants, in regard to his doctrines,
has its bounds; and so has that of confessing
his morality. There was more enthusiasm
than true zeal in such ancient confessors as
voluntarily presented themselves before perse-
utors, and intrigued for the glory of martyr
dom. So, in regard to the present subject, in
our opinion, it is not requisite we should in
trude into the company of the great to reprove
them, when we have reason to believe our re
bukes would be injurious to ourselves, and con
tribute nothing to the glory of religion. All
the actions of a Christian should be directed by
prudence. We only expect you should never
blush for the precepts of your great Lawgiver,
never contribute, by mean adulation, or pro
found silence, to the violation of them; in short,
that you would openly profess to fear God al
ways when your profession is likely to con
vince a sinner, or to convert a saint.

This duty carries its own evidence along
with it. Let us here compare the doctrines
of religion with the precepts of it. The pre
cepts of religion are as essential as the doc
trines; and religion will as certainly sink if
the morality be subverted, as if the theology
be undermined. Moreover, doctrines are ab
solutely useless without morality, and the doc
trines of religion are only proposed to us as
grounds of the duties of it. The first doctrine
of religion, the foundation of all the rest, is,
that there is only one God; but why does
God require us to admit the doctrine of his
unity? It is that we may not divide supreme
love, the character of supreme adoration, be
tween the Supreme Being and creatures; for
on this subject it is said, " thou shalt love the
Lord thy God with all thine heart." Now,
were I to deny this second proposition, we
ought not to divide between God and any
creature that love which is the essence of su
preme adoration, should I be a less odious
apostate than if I denied the first? One of the
most essential points of our divinity is, that
there is a future state. But why does God re
quire us to believe a future state? It is that
we should regard the present life as the least
considerable period of our duration. If then I
deny this practical proposition, the present life
is the least considerable part of our duration,
am I an apostate less odious than if I deny this
proposition of speculation, there is a future
state? We say the same of all other doctrines.

If it be the duty of a Christian to confess the
doctrines of religion, and if a simple genuflex
ion, and the offering of one grain of incense,
be acts of denial of these truths of speculation,
I ask, are not one act of adulation, one smile
of approbation, one gesture of acquiescence,
also acts of denial in regard to practical truths?
Most certainly. In times of persecution it was
necessary to lift up the standard of Jesus Christ,
to confess him before Herod and Pilate, and
before all who took these persecutors of the
church for their examples. In like manner,

SER. LIV.]

THE MORAL MARTYR.

21

while the church enjoys the most profound
peace, if innocence be oppressed, if we see
modesty attacked, if we hear the sophisms of
sin, we must learn to say, each in his pro
per sphere, I am a Christian, I hate calumny,
I abhor oppression, I detest profaneness and
licentiousness, and so on.

The further you carry this comparison of
martyrdom for doctrines with martyrdom for
duties, the more fully will you perceive, that
the same reasons which establish the necessity
of the first, confirm that of the last, and that
apostates from morality are no less odious than
those from divinity. Let us for a moment ex
amine what makes the first martyrdom neces
sary, I mean that for doctrines. Some reasons
regard the believers themselves. Our attach
ment to the religion of Jesus Christ may be
doubtful to ourselves, before we suffer for it.
Martyrdom is a trial of this attachment. " Be
loved, think it not strange concerning the fiery
trial which is to try you, as though some strange
thing happened unto you," 1 Pet. iv. 12. Some
regard the spectators, in whose presence God
calls his children to suffer for religion. Chris
tians have made more disciples to the true re
ligion, by suffering persecution, than tyrants
have taken from it by persecuting. This is a
second view of martyrdom. A martyr may
say, with his divine Master, " I, if I be lifted
up, will draw all men unto me," John xii. 32.
Some of these reasons regard the honour of
religion, for which God calls us to suffer.
What can be more glorious for it than that
peace, and joy, and firmness, with which it in
spires its martyrs? How ravishing is this re
ligion, when it supports its disciples under the
most cruel persecutions! How truly great does
it appear, when it indemnifies them for the loss
of fortune, rank, and life; when it makes them
see, through a shower of stones, the object of
their hope, and impels them to exclaim with
St. Stephen, " Behold, I see the heavens open
ed, and the Son of Man standing on the right
hand of God!" Acts vii. 56. This is a third
view of martyrdom, and it would be as easy to
increase the list as it is to make the applica
tion. Let us apply to martyrdom for duties,
what we have said concerning martyrdom for
doctrines, and we shall be obliged to conclude,
that the same reasons establish the necessity of
both.

Let us not pass lightly over this article. If
there be a martyrdom of morality, how many
apostles have we among us? How often have
we denied our holy religion? How often, when
it has been jeeringly said to us, " Thou also
wast with Jesus," have we sneakingly replied,
" I know not what thou sayest?"

V. We come to our last article, the crown
of moral martyrdom. Here a new order of
objects present themselves to our meditation.
Pardon me, if I cannot help deploring the loss
or the suspension of that voice with which for
three and twenty years I have announced the
testimonies of God, so as to be clearly heard at
the remotest parts of this numerous auditory
However, I will try to present to you at least a
few of the truths which I dare not undertake
to speak of in their utmost extent.

The martyrdom of morality! A man who
eau say to God, as our prophet said, " I will

speak of thy testimonies before kings, and will
not be ashamed," finds a rich reward, first in
the ideas which a sound reason gives him of
shame and glory; secondly, in the testimony of
liis own conscience; thirdly, in the approba
tion of good people; and lastly, in the prero
gatives of martyrdom. These, if I may so ex
press myself, are four jewels of his crown.

1. Notions of shame and glory are not arbi-
rary, they are founded on the essence of those

things to which they are related; on these re-
"ations they depend, and not on the caprice of
different understandings. My first relation is
that which I have to God, it is the relation of
a creature to his Creator. The duty of this
relation is that of the most profound submis
sion. My glory is to discharge this duty, and
it is my shame to violate it. My second rela
tion is that which I have to men, a relation
between beings formed in the same image, sub
ject to the same God, and exposed to the same
miseries. The duty of this relation is that of
treating men as I wish they would treat me;
or, to use the words of Jesus Christ, " of doing
to them whatsoever I would they should do
o me," Matt. vii. 12. It is my glory to dis
charge this duty, and my shame to violate it;
and so of the rest. These ideas are not arbi
trary, they are founded in the nature of things.
No mortal, no potentate has a right to change
them. If, then, the great regard me with dis
dain, when I answer to my relations, and dis
charge the duties of them, I will not be asham
ed. The contempt which this conduct brings
upon me, falls back upon my despiser, because
shame is a necessary consequence of violating
these duties, and because glory is a necessary
consequence of practising them.

2. The martyrdom of morality is rewarded
by the testimony of conscience, and by the inef
fable joys with which the heart is overwhelm
ed. While the tribunals of the great condemn
the Christian, an inward judge absolves him;
and the decrees of the former are reversed by
the latter. " Our rejoicing is this, the testimo
ny of our conscience. I suffer; nevertheless I
am not ashamed, for I know on whom I have
believed," 2 Cor. i. 12; 2 Tim. i. 12.

3. The moral martyr is rewarded by the ap
probation of good people. Indeed, suffrages
will never be unanimous. There will always
be in the world two opposite systems, one of
virtue, another of sin. The partisans of a sys
tem of sin will always condemn the friends of
virtue as the friends of virtue will always con
demn the partisans of sin. You cannot be con
sidered in the same light by two such different
classes of judges. What the first account in
famous, the last call glory; and the last will
cover you with glory for what the first call
your shame. If you be obliged to choose one
of the two parties to judge you, can you possi
bly hesitate a moment on which to fix your
choice? The prophet indemnified himself by
an intercourse with the people of God, for the
injury done him by the great. " I am," said he,
" a companion of all them that fear tbee, and
of them that keep thy precepts," Ps. cxix. 33.
Suffer me to sanctify here the profane praise
which Lucan gave Pompey;* " The gods are

* Victrer Causa Deis Placuit; sed Victa Catoni.

22

THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF

[SER. LV.

for Cesar, but Cato is for Pompey." Yes, the
approbation of Cato is preferable to that of the
gods! I mean those imaginary gods, who fre
quently usurp the rights of the true God.

In fine, the martyr for morality is rewarded
by the prerogatives of martyrdom. It would
be inconvenient, in the close of a sermon, to
discuss a question that would require a whole
discourse; I mean that concerning degrees of
glory, but that, if there be degrees of glory,
the highest will be bestowed oh martyrs, will
admit of no dispute. This, I think, may be
proved from many passages of Scripture. St.
John seems to have taken pains to establish
this doctrine in the Revelation: " He that
overcometh, and keepeth my works unto the
end, to him will I give power over the nations,
and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; as
the vessel of a potter shall they be broken into
shivers," chap. ii. 26, 27. This regards mar
tyrs, and this seems to promise them pre-emi
nence. "Behold I come quickly; hold that
fast which thou hast, that no man take thy
crown. Him that overcometh will I make a
pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall
go no more out; and I will write upon him the
name of my God, and the name of the city of
my God, which is new Jerusalem, which com-
eth down out of heaven from my God," chap,
iii. 11, 12. This regards martyrs, and this
seems to promise them pre-eminence. " What
are these which are arrayed in white robes?
and whence came they? These are they which
came out of great tribulation, and have wash
ed their robes, and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before
the throne of God," chap. vii. 13 — 15. This
regards martyrs, and this also seems to promise
them pre-eminence.

Christians, perhaps your minds are offended
at the gospel of this day. Perhaps you are
terrified at the career which we have been
opening to you. Perhaps you are inwardly
murmuring at this double martyrdom. Ah!
rather behold " the great cloud of witnesses"
with which you are compassed about, and con
gratulate yourselves that you fight under the
same standard, and aspire at the same crown.
Above all, "look unto Jesus, the author and
finisher of faith, who endured such contradic
tion of sinners against himself;" and who, as
the same apostle Paul speaks, not only " en
dured the cross," but also " despised the
shame." Hark! he speaks to you from the
goal, and in this animating language addresses
you, " If any man hear my voice, I will come
in to him. To him that overcometh will I
grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I
also overcame, and am set down with my Fa
ther in his throne," Rev. iii. 20, 21. Happy
you, if you be accessible to such noble motives!
Happy we, if we be able to say to God, in
that solemn day in which he will render to
every one according to his works, "I have
preached righteousness in the great congrega
tion. Lo, I have not refrained my lips, O
Lord, thou knowest; I have not hid thy righte
ousness within my heart, I have declared thy
faithfulness and thy salvation, I have not con
cealed thy loving kindness! Withhold not
thou thy tender mercies from me, O Lord!"
God grant us this grace. Amen.

SERMON LV.

THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF A
BAD EDUCATION.

1 SAMUEL iii. 12, 13.

In that day, I will perform against Eli, all things
which I have spoken concerning his house;
when I begin, I will also make an end. For
I have told him, that I will judge his house for
ever, for the iniquity ivhich he knoweth; be
cause his sons made themselves vile and he re
strained them not.

THESE words are part of a discourse which
God addressed to young Samuel in a vision,
the whole history of which is well known to
us all. We intend to fix our chief attention
on the misery of a parent, who neglects the
education of his children: but before we con
sider the subject in this point of view, we will
make three remarks tending to elucidate the
history. The crimes of the sons of Eli, the
indulgence of the unhappy father, and the
punishment of that indulgence, demand our
attention.

Observe the crimes of the sons of Eli. They
supported their debaucheries by the victims
which the people brought to the tabernacle to
be offered in sacrifice. The law assigned them
the shoulders and the breasts of all the beasts
sacrificed for peace-offerings: but, not content
with these, they seized the portions which God
had appointed to such as brought the offerings,
and which he had commanded them to eat in
his presence, to signify their communion with
him. They drew these portions with flesh-
hooks out of the caldrons, in which they were
boiling. Sometimes they took them raw, that
they might have an opportunity of preparing
them to their taste; and thus by serving them
selves before God, they discovered a contempt
for those just and charitable ends which God
had in view, when he ordained that his minis
ters should live on a part of the sacrifices. —
God, by providing a table for the priests in his
own house, intended to make it appear, that
they had the honour of being his domestics,
and, so to speak, that they lived on his reve
nue. This was a benevolent design. God also,
by appointing the priests to eat after they had
sacrificed, intended to make them understand
that he was their sovereign, and the principal
object of all the ceremonies performed in his
palace. These were just views.

The excesses of the table generally prepare
the way for debauchery; and the sons of Eli
having admitted the first, had fallen into the
last, so that they abused " the women that as
sembled at the door of the tabernacle of the
congregation," chap. ii. 22; and to such a de
gree had they carried these enormities that the
people, who had been used to frequent the holy
place only for the purpose of rendering hom
age to Almighty God, were drawn thither by
the abominable desire of gratifying the inclina
tions of his unworthy ministers. Such were
the crimes of the sons of Eli.

Let us observe next the indulgence of the pa
rent. He did not wholly neglect to correct his

SEE. LV.]

A BAD EDUCATION.

sons, for the reproofs he gave them are record
ed in the second chapter. " Why do ye such
things?" said he to them, " for I hear of your
evil dealings by all this people. Do not so my
sons, for it is no good report that I hear." To
perform a duty of such importance with so
much indifference, was equal to an encourage
ment of the sin. Eli made use of petitions
and exhortations, when he ought to have ap
plied sharp reproofs, and alarming threaten-
ings. He censured and rebuked, when he
ought to have anathematized and thundered:
accordingly, after the Holy Spirit had related
the reproofs which Eli, in the words just now
cited, addressed to his sons, he tells us in the
text, by a seeming contradiction, but in words
full of truth and good sense, that Eli " restrain
ed them not."

Observe thirdly what terrible punishments
this criminal indulgence drew down upon the
guilty father, the profligate sons, and even the
whole people under their direction. A prophet
had before denounced these judgments against
Eli, in order to engage him to prevent the re
petition of the crimes, and the infliction of the
punishments. " Wherefore honourest thou thy
eons above me?" said the man of God. " I
said, indeed, that thy house, and the house of
thy father, should walk before me for ever:
but behold the days come that I will cut off
thine arm, and the arm of thy father's house,
that there shall not be an old man in thine
house. And thou shalt see an enemy in my
habitation, in all the wealth which God shall
give Israel. And the man of thine, whom I
shall not cut off from mine altar, shall be to
consume thine eyes, and to grieve thine heart.
And this shall be a sign unto thee, thy two
sons, Hophni and Phinehas in one day shall
both of them die," chap. ii. 29, &c.

These threatenings were accomplished in all
their rigour. The arm is in Scripture an em
blem of strength, and when the prophet threat
ened Eli, that the Lord would cut off his arm,
and the arm of his father's house, he meant to
foretell that the family of this priest should
fall into decay. Hophni and Phinehas perished
in battle when the Philistines conquered the Is
raelites. Ahitub and Ichabod, the sons of Phi
nehas, lived only a few years after the death
of their father. If we believe a tradition of
the Jews, this threatening was accomplished
many ages after it was uttered. We are told
in the Talmud, that there was at Jerusa
lem a family, in which no one outlived the
eighteenth year of his age; and that a famous
Rabbi found by inquiring into the origin of that
family, that it descended from Eli. A rival,
Zadok, was made high priest instead of Abia-
thar, a descendant of Eli. We are able to
prove by very exact registers that the high
priesthood continued in the family of Zadok
not only from the building of the temple to the
destruction of it, that is to say for the space
of four hundred years, but even to the time of
Antiochus Epiphanes. The rest of the mis
fortunes of Eli, the victory obtained by the
Philistines, the taking of the ark, the confusion
which brought on the labour and the death of
the wife of Phinehas, who expired, " saying,
name the child Ichabod, for the glory is de
parted from Israel," chap. iv. 19, &c. the

violent death of Eli; all these events are fully
known.

I hasten to the chief design of this discourse.
The extreme rigour which God used towards
Eli, and the terrible judgments with which
he punished the indulgence of this unhappy
parent, seemed to offend some who have not
attended to the great guilt of a parent, who
neglects to devote his children to God by a holy
education. I am going to endeavour to remove
this offence, and, in order to do so, I shall not
confine myself to my text, but shall treat of
the subject at large, and show you, as our time
will allow, first, the crimes and miseries of a
parent, who neglects the education of his fami
ly; and secondly, the means of preventing
them. We will direct our reflections so that
they may instruct not only heads of families,
but all our fearers, and so that what we shall
say on the education of children, by calling to
mind the faults committed in our own, may
enable us to correct them.

To neglect the education of our children is
to be ungrateful to God, whose wonderful power
created and preserved them. With what mar
vellous care does a kind Providence watch
over the formation of our infants, and adjust
all the different parts of their bodies?

With what marvellous care does a kind Pro
vidence provide for their first wants: for at first
they are like those idols, of which the prophet
speaks, "they have eyes and see not, they
have ears and hear not, they have feet and
cannot walk." Frail, infirm, and incapable
of providing for their wants, they find a suffi
cient supply in those feelings of humanity and
tenderness with which nature inspires all hu
man kind. Who can help admiring that, at a
time when infants have nothing that can please,
God enables them to move the compassion of
their parents, and to call them to their succour
by a language more eloquent and more pa
thetic than the best studied discourses?

With what marvellous care does a kind Pro
vidence preserve them amidst a multitude of
accidents which seem to conspire together to
snatch them away in their tenderest infancy,
and in all their succeeding years. Who but a
Being almighty and all-merciful could preserve
a machine so brittle, at a time when the least
shock would be sufficient to destroy it.

With what astonishing care does a kind Pro
vidence provide for those wants, which old age
incapacitates us to supply? Who can shut his
eyes against all these wonders without sinking
into the deepest stupidity, and withou expos
ing himself to the greatest misery?

To neglect the education of our children is
to refuse to retrench that depravity which we com
municated to them. Suppose the Scriptures
had not spoken expressly on the subject of ori
ginal depravity, yet it would argue great stu
pidity to question it. As soon as infants dis
cover any signs of reason, they discover signs
of depravity, and their malice appears as their
ideas unfold themselves. Sin in them is a fire
at first concealed, next emitting a few sparks,
and at last bursting into a great blaze, unless it
be prevented in time. Whence do they derive
so great an infection? Can we doubt it, my
brethrea? They derive it from us, and by com
municating our nature we communicate our

24

THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF

[SER. LV.

depravity. It is impossible, being our children,
that they should not be depraved, as we are;
for, to use the language of scripture, their "fa
thers are Amorites and their mothers are Hitt-
ites," Ezek. xvi. 13. Here I wish I could give
you some notion of this mortifying mystery; I
wish I could remove the difficulties which pre
vent your seeing it; I wish I could show you
what a union there is between the brain of an
infant and that of its mother, in order to con
vince you that sin passes from the parent to the
child.

What! can we in cool blood behold our chil
dren in an abyss, into which we have plunged
them; can we be sensible that we have done this
evil, and not endeavour to relieve them? Not
being able to make them innocent, shall we not
endeavour to render them penitent? Ah! vic
tims of my depravity, unhappy heirs of the
crimes of your parents, innocent creatures, born
only to suffer, 1 think I ought to reproach my
self for all the pains you feel, all the tears you
shed, and all the sighs you utter. Methinks,
every time you cry, you reprove me for my in
sensibility and injustice. At least, it is right,
that, as I acknowledge myself the cause of the
evil, I should employ myself in repairing it, and
endeavour to renew your nature by endeavour
ing to renew my own.

This reflection leads us to a third point. To
neglect the education of our children is to be
wanting in that tenderness, which is so much their
due. What can we do for them? What inhe
ritance can we transmit to them? Titles? They
are often nothing but empty sounds without
meaning and reality. Riches? They often
" make themselves wings and fly away," Prov.
xxiii. 5. Honours? They are often mixed with
disagreeable circumstances, which poison all
the pleasure. It is a religious education, piety,
and the fear of God, that makes the fairest in
heritance, the noblest succession, that we can
leave our families.

If any worldly care may lawfully occupy the
mind of a dying parent, when in his last mo
ments the soul seems to be called to detach it
self from every worldly concern, and to think
of nothing but eternity, it is that which has our
children for its object. A Christian in such cir
cumstances finds his heart divided between the
family, which he is leaving in the world, and
the holy relations, which he is going to meet in
heaven. He feels himself pressed by turns be
tween a desire to die, which is most advan
tageous for him, and a wish to live, which seems
most beneficial to his family. He says, " I am
in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to de
part, and to be with Christ, which is far better;
nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more need
ful for you," Phil. i. 23, 24. We are terrified
at that crowd of dangers, in which we leave
these dear parts of ourselves. The perils seem
to magnify as we retire from the sight of them.
One while we fear for their health, another
while we tremble for their salvation. My bre
thren, can you think of any thing more proper
to prevent or to pacify such emotions, than the
practice of that duty which we are now pressing
as absolutely necessary? A good father on his
death-bed puts on the same dispositions to his
children as Jesus Christ adorned himself with
in regard to his disciples immediately before the

consummation of that great sacrifice, which he
was about to offer to the justice of his Father.
The soul of our divine Saviour was affected
with the dangers to which his dear disciples
were going to be exposed. Against these
gloomy thoughts he opposed two noble reflec
tions. First, he remembered the care which
he had taken of them, and the great principlea
which he had formed in their minds: and se
condly, he observed that " shadow of the Al
mighty, under which he had taught them to
abide," Ps. xci. 1. "I have manifested thy
name unto the men which thou gavest me.
While I was with them in the world, I kept
them in thy name, and none of them is lost but
the son of perdition. They are not of the world,
even as I am not of the world," John xvii. 6,
12, 16. This is the first reflection. " Now I
am no more in the world, but these are in the
world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep
through thine own name those whom thou hast
given me, that they may be one, as we are. I
pray not that thou shouldst take them out of
the world, but that thou shouldst keep them
from the evil. Sanctify them through thy truth,
thy word is truth. Father, I will that they
also, whom thou hast given me, be with me
where I am," ver. 11, 15, 17. This is the se
cond reflection.

These two reflections are impenetrable
shields, and a parent should never separate
them. Would you be in a condition to oppose
the second of these shields against such attacks
as the gloomy thoughts just now mentioned
will make upon your hearts on that day in
which you quit the world and leave your chil
dren in it? endeavour now to arm yourself with
the first. Would you have them " abide under
the shadow of the Almighty?" Inculcate his
fear and his love in their hearts. Would you
be able to say as Jesus Christ did, " Holy Fa
ther, I will that they whom thou hast given me
be with me, that they may behold my glory;
keep them through thy name?" Put yourself
now into a condition to enable you then to say
to God as Christ did, "I have given them to
thy word, they are not of the world, even as I
am not of the world."

To neglect the education of our children is
to let loose madmen against the state, instead
of furnishing it with good rulers or good sub-
ects. That child intended for the church,
what will he become, if he be not animated
with such a spirit as ought to enliven a minister
of religion? He will turn out a trader in sacred
things, and prove himself a spy in our families,
a fomenter of faction in the state, who, under
pretence of glorifying God, will set the world
on fire. That other child intended for the bar,
what will he become, unless as much pains be
;aken to engage him to love justice as to make
lim know it, or to make him not disguise it as
well as understand it? He will prove himself
an incendiary, who will sow seeds of division
n families, render law suits eternal, and reduce
to indigence and beggary even those clients,
whose causes he shall have art enough to gain.
And that child, whom you have rashly deter
mined to push into the highest offices of state
without forming in him such dispositions as are
necessary in eminent posts, what will he be
come? A foolish or a partial judge, who will

SER. LV.]

A BAD EDUCATION.

pronounce on the fortunes and lives of his fel
low citizens just as chance or caprice may im
pel him: a public blood-sucker, who will live
upon the blood and substance of those whom
he ought to support: a tyrant, who will raze
and depopulate the very cities and provinces
which he ought to defend.

The least indulgence of the bad inclinations
of children sometimes produces the most fatal
effects in society. This is exemplified in the
life of David, whose memory may be truly re
proached on this article, for he was one of the
most weak of all parents. Observe his indulg
ence of Amnon. It produced incest. Remark
his indulgence of Absalom, who besought him
to allow his brethren to partake of a feast,
which he had prepared. It produced an assas
sination. See his weak fondness of the same
Absalom, who endeavoured to make his way
to the throne by mean and clownish manners,
affecting to shake hands with the Israelites, and
to embrace and kiss them (these are the terms
of Scripture,) and practising all such popular
airs as generally precede and predict sedition.
This produced a civil war. Remark how he
indulged Adonijah, who made himself chariots,
and set up a retinue of fifty men. The sacred
historian tells us, that " his father had not dis
pleased him at any time, in saying, why hast
thou done so?" 1 Kings, i. 6. This produced
a usurpation of the throne and the crown.

To neglect the education of your children is
to furnish them with arms against yourselves.
You complain that the children, whom you
have brought up with so much tenderness, are
the torment of your life, that they seem to re
proach you for living so long, and that, though
they have derived their being and support from
you, yet they refuse to contribute the least part
of their superfluities to assist and comfort you!
You ought to find fault with yourselves, for
their depravity is a natural consequence of such
principles as you have taught them. Had you
accustomed them to respect order, they would
not now refuse to conform to order: but they
would perform the greatest of all duties; they
would be the strength of your weakness, the
vigour of your reason, and the joy of your old
age.

To neglect the education of children is to
prepare torments for a, future state, the bare ap
prehension of which must give extreme pain to
every heart capable of feeling. It is beyond a
doubt, that remorse is one of the chief punish
ments of the damned, and who can question,
whether the most excruciating remorse will be
excited by this thought; I have plunged my
children into this abyss, into which I have
plunged myself?

Imagine a parent of a family discovering
among the crowd of reprobates a son, whom he
himself Jed thither, and who addresses to him
this terrible language. "Barbarous father,
what animal appetites, or what worldly views
inclined you to give me existence? to what a
desperate condition you have reduced me! See,
wretch that you are, see these flames which
burn and consume me. Observe this thick
smoke which suffocates me. Behold the heavy
chains with which I am loaded. These are the
fatal consequences of the principles you gave
me. Was it not enough to bring me into the
VOL. II,

world a sinner? was it necessary to put me in
arms against Almighty God? Was it not enough
to communicate to me natural depravity? must
you add to that the venom of a pernicious edu
cation? Was it not enough to expose me to the
misfortunes inseparable from life? must you
plunge me into those which follow death? Re
turn me, cruel parent, return me to nothing,
whence you took me. Take from me the fatal
existence you gave me. Show me mountains
and hills to fall on me, and hide me from the
anger of my judge; or, if that divine vengeance
which pursues thee, will not enable thee to do
so, I myself will become thy tormentor; I will
for ever present myself, a frightful spectacle be
fore thine eyes, and by those eternal howlings,
which I will incessantly pour into thine ears, I
will reproach thee. through all eternity I will
reproach thee, with my misery and despair."

Let us turn our eyes from these gloomy
images, let us observe objects more worthy of
the majesty of this place, and the holiness of
our ministry. To refuse to dedicate our child
ren to God by a religious education, is to refuse
those everlasting pleasures, which as much sur
pass our thoughts as our expressions.

It is a famous question in the schools, whe
ther we shall remember in heaven the connex
ions we had in this world? Whether glorified
spirits shall know one another? Whether a fa
ther will recollect his son, or a son his father?
And so on. I will venture to assert, that they
who have taken the affirmative side, and they
who have taken the negative on this question,
have often done so without any reason.

On the one side, the first have pretended to
establish their thesis on this principle, that
something would be wanting to our happiness
if we were not to know in a future state those
persons, with whom we had been united by the
tenderest connexions in this present world.

On the other hand, if we know, say the par
tisans of the opposite opinion, the condition of
our friends in a future state, how will it be
possible that a parent should be happy in the
possession of a heaven, in which his children
have no share; and how can he possibly relish
pleasure at the right hand of God, while he
revolves this dreadful thought in his mind, my
children are now, and will for ever be tor
mented with the devil?

It should seem, the proof and the objection
are equally groundless. The enjoyment of
Hod is so sufficient to satiate a soul, that it
annot be considered as necessary to the hap-
>iness of it to renew such connexions as were
x>rmed during a momentary passage through
;his world. I oppose this against the argument
br the first opinion: and I oppose the same
against the objection, for the enjoyment of God
's every way so sufficient to satiate a soul, that
t can love nothing but in God, and that its
felicity cannot be altered by the miseries of
those with whom there will then be no con
nexion.

A consideration of another kind has always
made me incline to the opinion of those who
take the affirmative side of this question. The
perfections of God are here concealed under
innumerable veils. How often does he seem
to countenance iniquity by granting a profusion
of favours to the contrivers of the most infernal

THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF

[SER. LV.

schemes? How often does he seem to declare
himself against innocence by the misfortunes
which he leaves the innocent to suffer? How
often have we seen tyrants on a throne, and
good people in irons? Does not this awful
phenomenon furnish us with an irrefragable
argument for the doctrine of a general judg
ment and a future state? Which of your
preachers has not frequently exhorted you to
"judge nothing before the time," 1 Cor. iv.
5; at the end of the time comes " the restitu
tion of all things," Acts iii. 21, which will
justify Providence?

Now, it should seem, this argument, which
none but infidels and libertines deny, and which
is generally received by all Christians, and by
all philosophers, this argument, I say, favours,
not to say establishes in an incontestable man
ner, the opinion of those who think that the
saints will know one another in the next life.
Without this how could we acquiesce in the
justice of the sentence, which will then be
pronounced on all? Observe St. Paul, whose
ministry was continually counteracted. What
motive supported him under so much opposi
tion? Certainly it was the expectation of seeing
one day with his own eyes the conquest which
he obtained for Jesus Christ; souls which he
had plucked out of the jaws of Satan; be
lievers whom he had guided to eternal happi
ness. Hear what he said to the Thessalonians,
" What is our hope, our joy, our crown of re
joicing? Are not even ye in the presence of
our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye
are our glory and joy," chap. ii. 19, 20.

Now, this is the hope, this is the crown,
which I propose to you, heads of families, to
engage you to dedicate your children to God
by a religious education.

It was this thought which supported one of
the wisest of the heathens against the fears of
death, I mean Cato of Utica. No man had a
greater affection for a son, than he had for his.
No man bore the loss with greater firmness and
magnanimity. " O happy day, when I shall
quit this wretched crowd, and join that divine
and happy company of noble souls, who have
quitted the world before me! I shall there meet
not only these illustrious personages, but my
dear Cato, who, I will venture to say, was one
of the best of men, of the best natural dispo
sition, and the most punctual in the discharge
of his duties, that ever was. I have put his
body on the funeral pile, whereas he should
have placed mine there; but his soul has not
left me, and he has only stepped first into a
country where I shall soon join him."

If this hope made so great an impression on
the mind of a pagan, what ought it not to pro
duce in the heart of a Christian? What infinite
pleasure, when the voice shall cry, " Arise ye
dead," to see those children whom God gave
you? What superior delight, to behold those
whom an immature death snatched from us,
and the loss of whom had cost us so many
tears? What supreme satisfaction, to embrace
those who closed our eyes, and performed the
last kind offices for us? O the unspeakable
'oy of that Christian father, who shall walk at
the head of a Christian family, and present
himself with all his happy train before Jesus
Christ, offering to him hearts worthy to serve

such a master, and saying to him, " behold me,
and the children which God hath given me,"
Heb. ii. 13.

We have been speaking of the fatal conse
quences of an irreligious education; and now
we wish we could put you all into a condition
to prevent them. But, alas! how can some of
you reduce our exhortations to practice? you
disconsolate fathers, you distressed mothers,
from whom persecution has torn away these
dear parts of yourselves, ye weeping Davids,
ye mourning Rachels, who, indeed, do not
weep because your children " are not," but
because, though they are, and though you gave
them existence, you cannot give them a reli
gious education? Ah! how can you obey our
voice? Who can calm the cruel fears, which
by turns divide your souls? What results from
all the conflicts, which pass within you, and
which rend your hearts asunder? Will you
go and expose yourselves to persecution? Will
you leave your children alone to be persecuted?
Will you obey the voice that commands, "flee
out of Babylon, and deliver every man his own
soul," Jer. i. 6; or that which cries, u Take
the young child?" Matt. ii. 20. O dreadful
alternative! Must you be driven, in some sort,
to make an option between their salvation and
yours? must you sacrifice yours to theirs, or
theirs to your own?

Ah! cruel problem! Inhuman suspense! Thou
tyrant, is not thy rage sufficiently glutted by
destroying our material temples? must you
lay your barbarous hands on the temples of
the Holy Ghost? Is it not enough to plunder
us of our property, must you rob us of our
families? Is it not enough to render life bitter,
would you make eternity desperate and intole
rable?

But, it is not to tyrants that we address
ourselves, they are inaccessible to our voice,
or inflexible to our complaints. It is to God
alone, who turns them as he thinks proper,
that we address our prayers. Hagar found
herself banished into a desert, and she had
nothing to support her but a few pieces of
bread, and a bottle of water. The water being
spent, her dear Ishmael was ready to die with
thirst. She laid him under a bush, and only
desired that she might not see him die. She
rambled to some distance, wept as she went,
and said, " Let me not see the death of the
child," Gen. xxi. 16, &c. See, she cannot
help it, she sits " over against him, lifts up her
voice, and weeps." God heard the voice of
the mother and the child, and, by an angel,
said unto her, " What aileth thee, Hagar? fear
not, for God hath heard the voice of the lad.
Arise, take hold of his hand, and lift him up,
for I will make him a great nation." See what
a source of consolation I open to you! Lift up
the voice and weep. " O Father of spirits,
God of the spirits of all flesh," Heb. xii. 9;
Numb. xvi. 22. Thou Supreme, whose essence
is love, and whose chief character is mercy,
thou who wast touched to see Nineveh repent,
and who wouldst not involve in the general
destruction the many infants at nurse in that
city, " who could not discern between their
right hand and their left," John iv. 11; wilt
not thou regard with eyes of affection and pity
our numerous children, who cannot discern

SER. LV.]

A BAD EDUCATION.

27

truth from error, who cannot believe, because
they have not heard, who cannot " hear with
out a preacher," and to whom, alas! no
preacher is sent? Rom. x. 14.

But you, happy fathers, you, mothers, fa
vourites of heaven, who assemble your children
around you "as a hen gathereth her chickens
under her wings," Matt, xxiii. 37; can you
neglect a duty, which is impracticable to others?
That tyrants and persecutors should display
their fury by making havoc of our children,
and by offering them to the devil, is, I allow,
extremely shocking, but there is nothing in it
very wonderful: but that Christian fathers and
mothers should conspire together in such a
tragical design would be a spectacle incompa
rably more shocking, and the horror of which
the blackest colours are unable to portray.

How forcible soever the motives, which we
have alleged, may be, I fear they will be inef
fectual, and such as will not influence the
greatest part of you. It must be allowed, that,
if there be any case, to which the words of our
Saviour are applicable, it is this of which we
are speaking, " strait is the gate, and narrow
is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few
there be that find it," Matt. vii. 14.

A reformation of the false ideas which you
form on the education of children, is, so to
speak, the first step which you ought to take
in the road set before you this day. No, it is
not such vague instructions as you give your
children, such superficial pains as you take to
make them virtuous, such general exhortations
as you address to them, is it not all this, that
constitutes such a religious education as God
requires you to give them. Entertain notions
more rational, and remember the few maxims,
which I am going to propose to you as the
conclusion of this discourse.

First maxim. Delays, always dangerous in
cases of practical religion, are peculiarly fatal
in the case of education. As soon as children
see the light, and begin to think and reason,
we should endeavour to form them to piety.
Let us place the fear of God in these young
hearts, before the world can get possession of
them, before the power of habit be united to
that of constitution. Let us avail ourselves
of the flexibility of their organs, the fidelity of
their memories, and the facility of their con
ceptions, to render their duty pleasing to them
by the ease with which they are taught to dis
charge it.

Second maxim. Although the end of the
divers methods of educating children ought to
be the same, yet it should be varied according
to their different characters. Let us study our
children with as much application as we have
studied ourselves. Both these studies are at
tended with difficulties; and as self-love often
prevents our knowing ourselves, so a natural
fondness for our children renders it extremely
difficult for us to discover their propensities.

Third maxim. A procedure, wise in itself,
and proper to inspire children with virtue, may
sometimes be rendered useless by symptoms of
passion, with which it is accompanied. We
cannot educate them well without a prudent
mixture of severity and gentleness. But on
the one hand, what success can we expect from

gentleness, if they discover, that it is not the
fruit of our care to reward what in them is
worthy of reward, but of a natural inclination,
which we have not the courage to resist, and
which makes us yield more to the motions of
our animal machine, than to the dictates of
reason? On the other hand, what good can
they derive from our severity, if they see, that
it proceeds from humour and caprice more than
from our hatred to sin, and our desire to free
them from it? If our eyes sparkle, if we take
a high tone of voice, if our mouths froth, when
we chastise them, what good can come of such
chastisements?

Fourth maxim. The best means of procuring
a good education lose all their force, unless
they be supported by the examples of such as
employ them. Example is also a great motive,
and it is especially such to youth. Children
know how to imitate before they can speak,
before they can reason, and, so to speak, before
they are born. In their mothers' Wombs, at
the breasts of their nurses, they receive impres
sions from exterior objects, and take the form
of all that strikes them. What success, mise
rable mother, can you expect from yo.ur exhor
tations to piety, while your children see you
yourself all taken up with the world, and its
amusements and pleasures; passing a great
part of your life in gaming, and in forming
criminal intrigues, which, far from hiding from
your family, you expose to the sight of all
mankind? What success can you expect from
your exhortations to your children, you wretch
ed father, when they hear you blaspheme your
Creator, and see you living in debauchery,
drowning your reason in wine, and gluttony,
and so on?

Fifth maxim. A liberty, innocent when it is
taken before men, becomes criminal, when it
is taken before tender minds, not yet formed.
What circumspection, what vigilance, I had
almost said, what niceties does this maxim en
gage us to observe? Certain words spoken, as
it were, into the air, certain imperceptible allu
sions, certain smiles, escaping before a child,
and which he has not been taught to suspect,
are sometimes snares more fatal to his inno
cence than the most profane discourses, yea,
they are often more dangerous than the most
pernicious examples, for them he has been
taught to abhor.

Sixth maxim. The indefatigable pains, which
we ought always to take in educating our chil
dren, ought to be redoubled on these decisive
events which influences both the present life,
and the future state. For example, the kind
of life to which we devote them, is one of
these decisive events. A good father regu
lates his views in this respect, not according
to a rash determination made when the child
was in the cradle, but according to observa
tions deliberately made on the abilities and
manners of the child.

Companions too are to be considered as de
ciding on the future condition of a child. A
good father with this view will choose such so
cieties as will second his own endeavours, he
will remember the maxim of St. Paul, " Evil
communications corrupt good manners," 1 Cor.
xv. 33; for he knows, that a dissolute compan-

GENERAL MISTAKES.

[SEE. LVI.

ion has often eradicated from the heart of a
youth all the good seeds which a pious family
had sown there.

Above all, marriage is one of these decisive
steps in life. A good father of a family, unites
his children to others by the two bonds of vir
tue and religion. How can an intimate union
be formed with a person of impious principles,
without familiarizing the virtuous by degrees
with impiety, without losing by little and little
that horror which impiety would inspire, and
without imbibing by degrees the same spirit?
So necessary is a bond of virtue. That of re
ligion is no less so, for the crime which drew
the most cutting reproofs upon the Israelites
after the captivity, and which brought upon
them the greatest judgments, was that of con
tracting marriages with women not in the cove
nant. Are such marriages less odious now,
when by a profane mixture people unite " light
and darkness, Christ and Belial, the temple of
God and idols?" 2 Cor. vi. 14, 15. Are such
marriages less hateful now, when, by a horrible
partition, the children, if there be any, are mu
tually ceded before hand, and in cold blood dis
posed of thus: the sons shall be taught the truth,
the daughters shall be educated in error, the
boys shall be for heaven, the girls for hell, a
son for God, a daughter for the devil.

Seventh maxim. The best means for the edu
cation of children must be accompanied with
fervent prayer. If you have paid any atten
tion to the maxims we have proposed, I shall
not be surprised to hear you exclaim, " Who
is sufficient for these things?" 2 Cor. ii. 16.
But, if it be the fear of not succeeding in edu
cating your children, which dictates this lan
guage, and not that indolence, which tries to
get rid of the labour, be you fully persuaded,
that the grace of God will triumph over your
great infirmities. Let us address to him the
most fervent prayers for the happiness of those
children, who are so dear to us, and let us be
lieve that they will return in benedictions upon
them. Let each parent collect together all his
piety, and then let him give himself up to the
tenderest emotions towards his children. O
God! who didst present thyself to us last Lord's
day under the amiable idea of a parent "pity
ing them that fear thee as a father pitieth his
children," Ps. ciii. 13. O God! who thyself
lovest thy Son with infinite tenderness and ve
hemence: O God! author of the tender affec
tions, which unite me to the children thou hast
given me, bless the pains I take in their edu
cation: disobedient children, my God, I disown.
Let me see them die in infancy, rather than go
along with the torrent of general immorality,
and " run" with the children of the world to
their "excess of riot," 1 Pet. iv. 4. I pray
for their sanctification with an ardour a thou
sand times more vehement than I desire their
fortune: and the first of all my wishes is to be
able to present them to thee on that great day,
when thou wilt pronounce the doom of all
mankind, and to say to thee then, " Lord, be
hold, here am I, and the children thou hast
given me." May God excite such prayers,
and answer them! To him be honour and
glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON LVI.

GENERAL MISTAKES.

ROMANS xii. 2.
Be not conformed to this world.

OF all the discourses delivered in this pulpit
those which deserve the greatest deference,
and usually obtain the least, are such as treat
of general mistakes. What subjects require a
greater deference? Our design in treating of
them, is to dissipate those illusions, with which
the whole world is familiar, which are author
ized by the multitude, and which, like epidemi
cal diseases, inflicted sometimes by Providence
on public bodies, involve the state, the church,
and individuals. Yet are any discourses less
respected than such as these? To attack gene
ral mistakes is to excite the displeasure of all
who favour them, to disgust a whole auditory,
and to acquire the most odious of all titles, I
mean that of public censor. A preacher is
then obliged to choose either never to attack
such mistakes as the multitude think fit to au
thorize, or to announce the advantages which
he may promise himself, if he adapt his sub
jects to the taste of his auditors, and touch their
disorders only so far as to accommodate their
crimes to their consciences.

Let us not hesitate what part to take. St.
Paul determines us by his example. I am go
ing, to-day, in imitation of this apostle to guard
you against the rocks, where the many are
shipwrecked. He exhorts us, in the words of
the text, not to take " the world for a model!"
" the world," that is, the crowd, the multitude,
society at large. But what society has he in
view? Is it that of ancient Rome, which he
describes as extremely depraved in the begin
ning of this epistle? Does he say nothing of
our world, our cities and provinces? We are
going to examine this, and I fear I shall be
able to prove to you, that our multitude is a
dangerous guide to show us the way to heaven;
and, to confine ourselves to a few articles. I
shall prove that they are bad guides to direct
us, first, in regard to faith; — secondly, in regard
to the worship which God requires of us; —
thirdly, in regard to morality; and lastly, in re
gard to the hour of death. In these four views,
I shall enforce the words of our text, " Be not
conformed to this world." This is the whole
plan of this discourse.

I. The multitude is a bad guide to direct our
faith. We will not introduce here the famous
controversy on this question, whether a great
number form a presumption in favour of any
religion, or whether universality be a certain evi
dence of the true Christian church? How often
has this question been debated and determined!
How often have we proved against one commu
nity, which displays the number of its professors
with so much parade, that if the pretence were
well-founded, it would operate in favour of pa
ganism, for pagans were always more numer
ous than Christians! How often have we told
them, that in divers periods of the ancient
church idolatry and idolaters have been en-

SER. LVL]

GENERAL MISTAKES.

29

throned in both the kingdoms of Judah and
Israel! How often have we alleged, that in the
time of Jesus Christ the church was described
as a " little flock," Luke xii. 32; that heathens
and Jews were all in league against Chris
tianity at first, and that the gospel had only a
small number of disciples! How often have
we retorted, that for whole centuries there was
no trace, no shadow of the opinions of modern
Rome! But we will not apply ourselves to
this controversy to-day by fixing your atten
tion on the sophisms of foreigners; perhaps we
might divert your eyes from your own; by
showing you our triumphs over the vain at
tacks made on us by the enemies of the refor
mation, perhaps we might turn away your at
tention from other more dangerous wounds,
which the reformed themselves aim at the
heart of religion. When I say the multitude
is a bad guide in matters of faith, I mean, that
the manner in which most men adhere to truth,
is not by principles which ought to attach them
to it, but by a spirit of negligence and preju
dice.

It is no small work to examine the truth,
when we arrive at an age capable of discus
sion. The fundamental points of religion, I
grant, lie in the Scriptures clear and perspicu
ous, and within the comprehension of all who
choose to attend to them: but when we pass
from infancy to manhood, and arrive at an
age in which reason seems mature, we find
ourselves covered with a veil, which either
hides objects from us, or disfigures them. The
public discourses we have heard in favour of
the sect, in which we were educated, the inve
terate hatred we have for all others, who hold
principles opposite to ours, the frightful por
traits that are drawn before our eyes of the
perils we must encounter, if we depart from
the way we have been brought up in, the im
pressions made upon us by the examples and
decisions of our parents, and masters, and teach
ers, the bad taste of those who had the care of
our education, and who prevented our acquir
ing that most noble disposition, without which
it is impossible ever to be a true philosopher,
or a real Christian, I mean that of suspending
our judgment on subjects not sufficiently pro
ved; from all this arise clouds that render the
truth inaccessible, and which the world can
not dissipate. We do not say, that natural ta
lents, or supernatural assistance are wanting;
we are fully convinced that God will never
give up to final error any man who does all in
his power to understand the truth. But the
world are incapable of this work. Why? Be
cause all the world, except a few, hate labour
and meditation in regard to the subjects which
respect another life; because all the world
would choose rather to . attach themselves to
what regards their temporal interests than to
the great interest of eternal happiness: because
all the world like better to suppose the princi
ples imbibed in their childhood true, than to
impose on themselves the task of weighing
them anew in the balance of a sound and severe
reason: because all the world have an invinci
ble aversion to suppose, that when they are ar
rived at manhood they have almost lost their
time in some respects, and that when they leave
school thev begin to be capable of instruction.

If the nature of the thing cannot convince
you, that the multitude continue through ne
gligence in the profession of that religion in
which they were born, experience may here
supply the place of reasoning. There is an
infinite variety of geniuses among mankind.
Propose to an assembly a question, that no
system has yet decided, and you will find, as
it is usually said, as many opinions as heads.

It is certain, if mankind were attached to a
religion only because they had studied it, we
should find a great number of people forsake
that in which they had been brought up, for it
is impossible, that a whole society should unite
in one point of error, or rather, it is clear, to a
demonstration, that as truth has certain char
acters superior to falsehood, the temples of
idols would be instantly deserted, erroneous
sects would be soon abandoned, the religion of
Jesus Christ, the only one worthy of being
embraced, the only one that deserves disciples,
would be the only one embraced, and would
alone be received by all sincere disciples of
truth.

Do not think, my brethren, that this reflec
tion concerning that spirit of negligence, which
retains most men in a profession of their own
religion, regards only such communions as lay
down their own infallibility for a fundamental
article of faith, and which prescribe ignorance
and blind submission as a first principle to
their partisans, for it is but too easy to prove,
that the same spirit of negligence reigns in all
communities. Hence it comes to pass, that in
general so few Christians can render a reason
for their faith. Hence it is that people are
usually better furnished with arguments to op
pose such societies as surround them, than with
those which establish the fundamental truths of
Christianity. If then you follow the direction
of the multitude in the study of religion, you
will be conducted by a spirit of negligence,
prejudice will be held for proof, education for
argument, and the decisions of your parents and
teachers for infallible oracles of truth.

II. The multitude is a bad guide in regard
to that worship, which God requires of us; they
defile it with a spirit of superstition. Super
stition is a disposition of mind that inclines us
to regulate all parts of divine worship, not by
just notions of the Supreme Being, nor by his
relation to us, nor by what he has condescended
to reveal, but by our own fancies. A super
stitious man entertains fantastical ideas of God,
and renders to him capricious worships; he not
unfrequently takes himself for a model of God:
he thinks that what most resembles himself,
however mean and contemptible, approaches
nearest to perfection. We affirm, this disposi
tion is almost universal.

It would be needless to prove this to you,
my brethren, in regard to erroneous commu
nities. Were superstition banished from the
world, we should not see men, who are made
in the image of God, disgrace their nature by
prostrating themselves before idols, and mar
mosets, so as to render religious honours to
half a block of wood or stone, the other half of
which they apply to the meanest purposes: we
should not see a crowd of idolaters performing
a ceremonial, in which conviction of mind has
no part, and which is all external and material,

30

GENERAL MISTAKES.

[San. LVI.

we should not see a concourse of people receiv
ing with respect, as the precious blood of the '
Saviour of the world, a few drops of putrefied
water, which the warmth of the sun has pro
duced by fermentation in the trunk of a decayed
tree: we should not see pilgrims in procession
mangling their flesh in the streets, dragging
along heavy loads, howling in the highways,
and taking such absurd practices for that re
pentance, which breaks the heart, and trans
forms and renews the life. You will easily
grant all this, for I have observed, it is often
less difficult to inspire you with horror for
these practices, than to excite compassion in
you for such as perform them.

But you ought to be informed, that there
are other superstitions less gross, and therefore
more dangerous. Among us we do not put a
worship absolutely foreign to the purpose in
the place of that which God has commanded
and exemplified to us, but we make an esti
mate of the several parts of true worship.
These estimates are regulated by opinions
formed through prejudice or passion. What
best agrees with our inclinations we consider
as the essence of religion, and what would
thwart and condemn them we think circum
stantial.

We make a scruple of not attending a ser
mon, not keeping a festival, not receiving the
Lord's Supper, but we make none of neglect
ing to visit a prisoner, to comfort the sick, to
plead for the oppressed. We observe a strict
decency in our religious assemblies while our
ministers address prayer to God, but we take
no pains to accompany him with our minds
and hearts, to unite our ejaculations with his
to besiege the throne of grace. We think it a
duty to join our voices with those of a whole
congregation, and to fill our places of worship
with the praises of our Creator, but we do not
think ourselves obliged to understand the sense
of the psalm, that is sung with so much fervour,
and, in the language of an apostle, to "sing
with understanding," 1. Cor. xiv. 15. We
lay aside innocent occupations the day before
we receive the Lord's Supper, but no sooner
do we return from this ordinance than we allow
the most criminal pleasures, and enter upon
the most scandalous intrigues. Who make
these mistakes my brethren? Is it the few?
" Be not conformed to this world," in regard
to the worship that God requires of you, the
multitude perform it in a spirit of superstition.

III. Neither are the many a better guide in
regard to morality. Here, my brethren, we
are going more particularly to describe that
class of mankind, among which we live, and of
which we ourselves are a part. Indeed, the
portraits we are going to draw will not be
flattering to them, for justice requires, that we
should describe men as they are, not as they
pretend to be. In order to exactness let us
consider them separately and apart. First, In
regard to the masters who govern them. Se
condly, In regard to the professions, which they
exercise. Thirdly, In regard to some maxims
generally received. Fourthly, In regard to
the splendid actions which they celebrate.
And lastly, In regard to certain decisive occa
sions, that, like touchstones, discover their
principles and motives.

1. Consider mankind in regard to the mas
ters who govern them. Here I congratulate
myself on the happiness of speaking to a free
people, among whom it is not reputed a crime
to praise what is praise-worthy, and to blame
what deserves blame, and where we may freely
trace the characters of some men of whom pru
dence requires us not to " speak evil, no not in
thought, no not in the bedchamber, lest a bird
of the air should carry the voice, and that
which hath wings should tell the matter,'
Eccles. x. 20. Is it in the palaces of the great
that humility reigns, humility which so well
becomes creatures, who, though crowned and
enthroned, are yet infirm, criminal, dying crea
tures, and who, in a few days, will become
food for worms, yea, perhaps victims in the
flames of hell? Is it in the palaces of the great,
that uprightness, good faith, and sincerity reign?
Yet without these society is nothing but a ban
ditti, treaties are only snares, and laws cob
webs, which, to use a well known expression,
catch only weak insects, while the fierce and
carnivorous break through. Is it in the pala
ces of the great that gratitude reigns, that
lawful tribute due to every motion made to
procure our happinesa* Is it there that the
services of a faithful subject, the labours of
an indefatigable merchant, the perils of an in
trepid soldiery, blood shed and to be shed, are
estimated and rewarded? Is it there that the
cries of the wretched are heard, tears of the
oppressed wiped away, the claims of truth ex
amined and granted? Is it in the palaces of
the great that benevolence reigns, that benevo
lence without which a man is only a wild beast!
Is it there that the " young ravens which cry"
are heard and fed? Ps. cxlvii. 9. Is it there
that they attend to the bitter complaints of an
indigent man. ready to die with hunger, and
who asks for no more than will just keep him
alive? Are the palaces of the great seats of
piety and devotion? Is it there that schemes
are formed for the reformation of manners? Is
it there that they are "grieved for the affliction
of Joseph," Amos vi. 6: and "take pleasure in
in dust and stones of Zion?" Ps. cii. 14. Is it
there that we hear the praises of the Creator?
do they celebrate the compassion of the Re
deemer of mankind?

What ideas are excited in our minds by the
names of such as Caligula, Nero, Dioclesian,
Decius, names detestable in all ages? What
ideas could we excite in your minds, were we
to weigh in a just balance the virtues of such
heroes as have been rendered famous by the
encomiums given them? You would be as
tonished to see that these men, who have been
called the delights of mankind, have often de
served execration, and ought to be considered
with horror. But I purposely forbear, and
will not put in this list all that ought to be
placed there, that is to say, all those who have
had sovereign power, except a very few, who
in comparison are next to none, and who are,
as it were, lost in the crowd among the rest.
And yet the elevation of kings makes their
crimes more communicable, and their exam
ples more contagious; their sins become a filthy
vapour infecting the air, and shedding their
malignant influence all over our cities and fa
milies, lightning, and thundering, and disturb-

SER. LVI.

GENERAL MISTAKES.

31

ing the world. Accordingly, you see in gene
ral, that what the king is in his kingdom, the
governor is in his province; what the governor
is in his province, the nobleman is in his do
main; what the nobleman is in his domain, the
master is in his family. The multitude is a
bad guide, mankind are a dangerous model,
considered in regard to the masters who govern
them.

2. Consider the many in regard to divers
profession^. What is the profession of a sol
dier, particularly of an officer of rank in the
army? It is to defend society, to maintain re
ligion, to be a parent to the soldiery, to bridle
the licentiousness of arms, to oppose power
against injustice, to derive from all the views
of death that lie open before him, motives to
prepare his accounts to produce before his
Judge. But what is the conduct of a soldier?
Is it not to brave society? Is it not to trample
upon religion? Is it not to set examples of de
bauchery, licentiousness, and vengeance? Is it
not to let out his abilities, and to sacrifice his
life to the most ambitious designs, and to the
most bloody enterprises of princes? Is it not to
accustom himself to ideas of death and judg
ment till he laughs at both, to stifle all remorse,
and to extirpate all the fears, which such ob
jects naturally excite in the consciences of
other men?

What is the profession of a judge? It is to
have no regard to the appearances of men, it is
to be affable to all who appeal to authority, to
study with application the nature of a cause
which he is obliged to decide, it is patiently to
go through the most fatiguing details of proofs
and objections. But what is often the conduct
of a judge? Is it not to be struck with the ex
terior difference of two parties appearing before
him? Is it not to be inaccessible to the poor,
to invent cruel reserves, and intolerable delays?
Is it not to grovel in ignorance, and to hate
study and labour?

What is the profession of a man learned in
the law? It is to devote his service only to
truth and justice, to plead only a good cause,
to assist even those who cannot reward his la
bours. What is the conduct of counsel? Is it
not to support both the true and the false, and
to maintain by turns both justice and iniquity?
Is it not to adjust his efforts to his own glory,
or to his client's ability to pay?

What is the profession of a merchant? It is
to detest false weights and measures, to pay
his dues, and never to found his fortune on
falsehood, fraud, and perjury. But what is
the conduct of a merchant? Is it not to use
false weights and measures? Is it not to cheat
the state of its dues? Is it not to indulge an
insatiable avidity? Is it not to enrich himself
by telling untruths, by practising frauds, by
taking false oaths?

What is the profession of a minister? It is
to devote himself wholly to truth and virtue,
to set the whole church an example, to search
into hospitals, and cottages, to relieve the mise
ries of the sick and the poor; it is to determine
himself in his studies, not by what will acquire
him reputation for learning and eloquence, but
by what will be most useful to the people over
whom he is set; it is to regulate his choice of
subjects, not by what will make himself shine,

but by what will most benefit the people
among whom he exercises his ministry; it is to
take as much care of a dying person in an ob
scure family, lying on a bed of straw, lost in
oblivion and silence, as of him, who with an
illustrious name lives amidst silver and gold,
and for whom the most magnificent and pomp
ous funeral honours will be prepared, it is to
" cry aloud, to lift up his voice like a trumpet,
and show the people their transgressions, and
the house of Israel their sins," Isa. Iviii. 1;
Mic. iii. 8; and 2 Cor. v. 16; "it is to know
no man after the flesh" when he ascends the
pulpit, boldly to reprove vice, how eminent so
ever the seat of it may be. What is the usual
conduct of a minister? O God! " En
ter not into judgment with thy servants, for
we cannot answer one complaint of a thou
sand!" Ps. cxliii. 2; Job ix. 3.

3. Consider the multitude in regard to some
general maxims which they adopt, and hold as
rules and approved axioms. Have you read
in the gospel the following maxims? Charity
begins at home. Youth is a time of pleasure.
It is allowable to kill time. We should not
pretend to be saints. Slander is the salt of
conversation. We must do as other people do.
It is unworthy of a man of honour to pocket
an affront. A gentleman ought to avenge him
self. Ambition is the vice of great souls. Pro
vided we commit no great crimes, we suffi
ciently answer our casing. Impurity is an in
tolerable vice in a woman, but it is pardonable
in a man. It would be easy to enlarge this

| catalogue. Which of these maxims, pray,
1 does not sap some of the first principles
of the religion of Jesus Christ? Yet which of
these maxims is not received in society as a
fundamental rule of action, which we should be
accounted singular and petulent to condemn?

4. Consider the multitude in regard to cer
tain actions, of which they lavish praise and write
encomiums. We do not mean to speak at
present of such crimes as the depravity of the
world sometimes celebrates under the notions
of heroical actions. Our reflections are of an
other kind. It is pretty clear, that depravity
is general, and piety in the possession of a very
few, when persons of a superficial knowledge
are praised for the depth of their understand
ing, and when such as perform very small and
inconsiderable actions of virtue are considered
as the wonders of the world. Sometimes I
hear the world exclaim, What benevolence!
What liberality! What generosity! I inquire
for the evidences of these virtues, on which
such lavish encomiums are bestowed; I expect
to find another St. Paul, who, "wished him
self accursed for his brethren," Rom. ix. 3. I
hope to meet with another Moses, praying to
be " blotted out of the book" of life rather
than see his nation perish, Exod. xxxii. 32.
But no; this boasted generosity and charity is
that of a man, who distributed to the poor on
one solemn occasion, once in his life, such a
sum of money as he expends every day in pro
digality and superfluity. It is that of a man,
who bestows on all the members of Jesus Christ
almost as much as he does on the walls of a
room, or the harness of a horse. I hear the
world exclaim in some circumstances, What
friendship! What tenderness! I inquire for

GENERAL MISTAKES.

[Sen. LVI.

this tender, zealous, generous friend. I expect
to find such an original as I have seen describ
ed in books, though I have never met with
such a one in society. I hope at least to see
one example of a friend saying to a dying man,
appoint me your executor, and leave me your
children to bring up, and your widow to pro
vide for. But no; I find nothing but the friend
ship of a man, who by improving the fortune
of another, attracts the chief advantage to him
self. I hear the world exclaiming in certain
circumstances, What virtue! What purity!
What a mother of a family! Again I look for
the object of these encomiums. I hope to see
such a woman as Solomon imagined, a mother
of a family, who makes her house a house of
God, and her children patterns of piety. But
no; I meet with a woman, who indeed does
not defile the nuptial bed, who only does not
outlive her income, and teaches her children
only the little course of domestic economy.
All these actions are praiseworthy. All these
examples ought to be imitated. But is there
any ground for exclaiming as if virtue had
been carried to its highest pitch? Are these
then such great eiforts of religion? Alas! my
brethren, complete characters must needs be
very scarce in the world, since the world is in
raptures on account of these imperfect virtues;
there must needs be a great dearth of wise
men in the world, since there is so much boast
ing of one man, who takes only one step in
the path of wisdom.

5. Consider mankind in regard to certain
decisive occasions, which, like touchstones, dis
cover their hearts. We do not know ourselves,
we form false ideas of ourselves, when our vir
tues have not been brought to the test. We
imagine we incline to be patient, clement, and
charitable, in cases where we are not tried,
where neither our fortune, nor our reputation;
nor our honour are affected: but the moment
a stroke is aimed at any of these, the counte
nance changes, the brain ferments, the mouth
foams, and we breathe nothing but hatred and
vengeance. Nothing is more common among
us than to talk highly of justice, to detest and
censure iniquity, and to engage ourselves in
violably to follow such rules of equity as are
marked out in the divine law. Let any man
bring an action against us, with reason or
without, and all these ideas vanish, we in
stantly become familiar with the very vices to
which we thought we had an invincible aver
sion. We disguise our cause, we suppress un
favourable circumstances, we impose on our
counsel, we try to take even the judges by sur
prise, we pretend to make great matters of the
importance of our rank, the worth of our
names, the credit of our families, the tone of
our voices, and all this we wish to incorporate
in our cause. A disinterested spirit is always
the subject of our utmost admiration and
praise. A generous man is the admiration of
all mankind, his noble actions unite all hearts,
and every man is eager to give such actions
their dignity and praise; but no sooner have
we a little business to do, in which we have no
kind of interest, but disinterestedness appears
odious to us, and magnanimity seems to us
more proper for a hero of a romance than for a
man living and acting in society, and generous

actions appear to us mere creatures of imagi
nation. O how little does the multitude de
serve consideration in regard to manners!

IV. No more ought they to be imitated in
regard to the manner, in which they quit the
world. Here I foresee, my brethren, you will
all side with one another against our doctrine,
and that we shall be obliged to blame both per
sons and things about dying people; such as
are dying, such as surround them, such as visit
them; in short, all are in disorder in the case
before us. Almost every person that dies is
canonized. If the light of Christianity had
not abolished deification, we should have filled
heaven with saints, and heroes, and deified
souls. Each house of mourning echoes with
the praises of the dead, none of his looks to
wards heaven are forgotten, not a sigh, not an
ejaculation has escaped notice. The funeral
convoys of persons the most worldly, whose
hearts had been the most hardened in sin, are
all uttering orations in praise of the dead. For
our parts, my brethren, we, who have seen a
great number of sick people, and attended
many in their dying hours, we freely grant,
that the salvation of many of them is probable.
We have hardly seen one, of whose salvation
we quite despair; but how seldom have we
been inclined to say, while we saw such people
expire uttering the language of the most emi
nent saints in Scripture, " Let us die the death
of these righteous" people, and "let our last
end be like theirs!" Numb, xxiii. 10. I will
give you a short list of general mistakes on this
subject.

The first mistake is this. Most sick people
are ingenuous to disguise the danger of their
illness. Be not conformed to this world. —
Whenever a dangerous illness attacks you, be
aware of your condition, and let each say to
himself, I have not long to live, at least this
may be my last illness. My brethren, this sup
position is never unseasonable, we are in little
danger of being deceived by thinking death at
hand, for the numberless accidents to which
we are exposed justify the thought. Is there
any thing extravagant, pray, in affirming that
sickness added to aL these accidents, renders
the near approach of death highly probable?

The second mistake is this. Most dying
people put off the regulation of their temporal
affairs too long. Be not conformed to this
world. You should take patterns from better
models, both for reasons of affection, and rea
sons of prudence. True affection to a family
engages a man to preclude in favour of hi1?
heirs such troubles and divisions as are the in
separable consequences of an undivided or per
plexed estate. Prudence, too, will foresee,
that while our minds are all occupied about
temporal affairs, a thousand ideas will intrude
to disturb our devotion. Do not wait till the
last moment to settle your affairs, to make your
will, to dispose of your family, and be not so
weak as to imagine that the discharge of these
necessary duties will hasten your death. Em
ploy yourselves wholly about the state of your
souls, and let each say to himself, since I have
been in the world I have hardly devoted one
whole day to devotion: since I have been 3
member of the church I have been exercised
about affairs which interest the whole society;

SER. LVI]

hut now that I am come to the end of my life,
now that I am passing out of this world, now
that I am going where I shall have no more
portion for ever in any thing done under the
sun, disturb me no more, ye worldly ideas; thou
fashion of this world passing away, appear no
more in my sight: ye wild fowls, interrupt my
sacrifice no more.

The third mistake is this. Most dying peo
ple delay sending for their ministers till the
last moment. They would have us do violence
to the laws of nature, they set us to exhort
trunks, to instruct carcasses, to prepare skin
and bones for eternity. " Be not conformed to
this world." Why should ye delay? Is there
any thing odious in our ministry? We do not
bring death along with us, we do not hasten its
approach: if we denounce the judgments of God
against you, it is not with a design to terrify
you, but to free you from them, and to " pull
you out of the fire," Jude 23.

To these I add a fourth mistake. Most dy
ing people think it a duty to tell their pastors
of excellent sentiments, 'which indeed they have
not, and they are afraid to discover their defects.
When death makes his formidable appearance
before them, they think religion requires them
to say, they are quite willing to die. We de
sire, say they, to depart, when alas! all their
desires are to make a tabernacle in the world,
for it is good, they think, to be there. They
tremble at the coming of Christ, and yet they
cry, " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." Ah!
" Be not conformed to this world," open thy
heart that it may be known, discover the mala
dies of thy soul, that we may apply such reme
dies as are proper. Do not imagine you will
acquire such sentiments and emotions as saints
of the first order had by talking their language;
but imbibe their principles in your mind, and
their tempers in your heart, before you make
use of their language.

The fifth mistake is this. Most dying people
speak to their ministers only in the presence of
a great number of attendants, and most attend
ants interfere in what ministers say on those
occasions. " Be not conformed to this world."
Two reasons may convince you of the necessity
of being alone. The first regards the pastor.
Surrounding attendants divert his attention
from the sick person. The second regards the
sick person himself. Would it be just or kind
to give him directions in public? What! would
you have us in the presence of a husband lay
open the intrigues of an immodest wife, and
endeavour to bring her to repent of her lasci-
viousness by convicting her of her crimes?
Would you have us reprove the head of a fa
mily for the iniquity that has disgraced his long
life, in the presence of his son? Would you have
us exhort a dying man to make restitution of
his ill-gotten wealth in the presence of a hun
gry heir, who already gluts his eyes, and sa
tiates his soul with hopes of succession? Were
we casuists after the Roman fashion, did we
compel consciences to reveal secrets to us,
which ought to be confessed to God alone, did
we interfere with your families and properties,
there would be some ground for your scruples:
but while we desire nothing but to exonerate
your consciences, and to awake your souls to a
sense of danger before they be plunged into an
VOL. II.— 5 '

GENERAL MISTAKES.

33

abyss of eternal misery, respect our conduct,
and condescend to submit to our instruction.

To these I add one mistake more. Most dy
ing people trust too much to their ministers, and
take too little pains themselves to form such
dispositions as a dying bed requires. " Be not
conformed to this world." It is not enough to
have external help to die well, we ourselves
must concur in this great work, we must, by
profound meditation, by frequent reflections,
and by fervent prayers, support ourselves under
this last attack, and thus put the last hand to
the work of our salvation. It is true, the in
firmities of your bodies will affect your minds,
and will often interrupt your religious exercises:
but no matter, God does not require of a dying
person connected meditations, accurate reflec
tions, precise and formal prayers, for one sigh,
one tear, one ejaculation of your soul to God,
one serious wish rising from the bottom of your
heart will be highly esteemed by the Lord, and
will draw down new favours upon you.

To conclude. The multitude is a bad guide
in regard to faith, in regard to manners, and in
regard to departing out of this life. A man
who desires to be saved, should be always upon
his guard lest he should be rolled down the tor
rent: he ought to compile in his closet, or rather
in his conscience, a religion apart, such as is,
not that of the children of the world, but that
of the disciples of wisdom. " Be not conformed
to this world."

I finish with two reflections. I address the
first to those who derive from this discourse no
consequences to direct their actions: and the
second to such as refer it to its true design.

First. I address myself to you who do not
draw any consequences from this discourse to
regulate your actions. You have seen a por
trait of the multitude. I suppose you acknow
ledge the likeness, and acquiesce in the judg
ment we have made. It seems, too many proofs
and demonstrations establish this proposition,
the multitude is a bad guide. Now you may
follow which example you please. You may
make your choice between the maxims of Jesus
Christ and the maxims of the world. But we
have a right to require one thing of you, which
you cannot refuse us, without injustice; that is,
that granting the genius of the multitude, when
you are told you are destroying yourselves, you
do not pretend to have refuted us by replying,
we conduct ourselves as the world does, and
every body does what you condemn in us.
Thanks be to God your proposition is not
strictly true! Thanks be to God, the rule has
some exceptions! There are many regenerate
souls, hidden perhaps from the eyes of men, but
visible to God. There are even some saints,
who shine in the sight of the whole world, and
who, to use the expression of Jesus Christ, are
a " city set on a hill," Matt. v. 14. What then,
you never cast your eyes on the most illustrious
objects in this world! Do you reckon for no
thing what alone merits observation in society,
and what constitutes the true glory of it? Have
you no value for men for whose sake the world
subsists, and society is preserved?

However, your proposition is indisputable in
a general sense, and we are obliged to allow it,
for our whole discourse tends to elucidate and
establish the point. Allege this proposition, but

34

GENERAL MISTAKES.

[SER. LVI.

do not allege it for the purpose of opposing the
censures you have heard, or of getting rid of
our reproofs. By answering in this manner
you give us an advantage over you, you lay a
foundation which you mean to destroy, you do
not furnish yourselves with a shield against
your ministers, but you yourselves supply them
with arms to wound and destroy you. Why
do we declaim against your conduct? What
do we mean when we reprove your way of liv
ing, except to convince you that it is not an
swerable to the Christian character which you
bear? What do we mean except that you break
the vows made for you in your baptism, and
which you yourselves have often ratified at the
Lord's table? What, in one word, except that
you do not obey the laws of the gospel? But
what can you advance more proper to strength
en the testimony which we bear against you
than that which you advance to weaken it, that
is, that you live as the world live?

All the world, say you, conduct themselves
as we do, and every body does what you cen
sure us for doing. But all the world conduct
themselves badly, all the world violate the spi
rit of religion, all the world attack the maxims
of Jesus Christ, all the world run in the broad
road of perdition, all the world are destroying
themselves, and the apostle exhorts us not to
take the world for an example.

Secondly, I address myself to you who sin
cerely desire to apply this discourse to its true
'design. I grant, the road opened to you is dif
ficult. To resist the torrent, to brave the mul
titude, to see one's self, like Elijah, alone on
the Lord's side, and, in this general apostacy,
in which a Christian so often finds himself,
when he desires to sacrifice all his duty, to re
collect motives of attachment to it, this is one
of the noblest efforts of Christian heroism.

However, after all, it would argue great pue
rility to magnify our ideas of the crowd, the
many, the multitude; it would be childish to be
too much struck with these ideas, every body
thinks in this manner, all the world act thus.
I affirm, that truth and virtue have more parti-
Bans than error and vice, and God has more
.disciples than Satan. What do you call the
crowd, the many, the multitude? What do you
mean by all the world? What! You and your
companions, your family, your acquaintances,
your fellow-citizens, the inhabitants of this
globe, to which the Creator has confined you;
is this what you call all the world? What lit
tleness of ideas! Cast your eyes on that little
molehill, occupied by a few thousand ants, lend
them intelligence, propose to one of these in
sects other maxims than those of his fellows,
exhort him to have a little more ambition than
to occupy a tiny imperceptible space upon that
molehill, animate him to form projects more
noble than that of collecting a few grains of
corn, and then put into the mouth of this little
emmet the same pretext that you make use of
to us; I shall be alone, all the world conduct
themselves in another manner. Would you not
,pity this insect? Would not he appear more con
.temptible to you for his mean and spiritless ideas

than for the diminutiveness of his body? Would
you not look with disdain on an ant, that had
no other ambition than that of taking for a mo
del other insects about him, and preferring their
approbation before that of mankind, who hold
a rank so high in the scale of the world? My
brethren, give what colours you will to this
imagination, it is however certain, that you
will form unjust ideas of this insect. An em
met has no relation to those beings, which you
propose to him for models. Such ideas of hap
piness as you trace to him have no proportion
to his faculties. Is an emmet capable of science
to be allured by the company of the learned?
Can an ant form plans of sieges and battles to
render himself sensible of that glory, which ex
ploits of war acquire, and for which the hero€&
of the world sacrifice their repose and their
lives?

It is you, who have that meanness of soul,
which you just now pitied in an ant. You in
habit cities and provinces, which, compared
with the rest of the world, resemble the size of
molehills; the whole globe itself is nothing, in
comparison of the immense spaces, in which
other works of the Creator are lodged. You
creep on earth with a handful of men much less
in comparison with the thousand thousands of
other intelligences than an ant hill is in com
parison of mankind. You have intimate rela
tions to these intelligences; you, like them, are
capable of great and noble functions; like them
you are capable of knowledge; like them you
are able to know the Supreme Being; you can
love like them; you can form tender and deli
cate connexions as they can; and like them you
are destined to eternal duration and felicity.

Do not say then, I shall be alone, nobody
lives as you would have me live. They are
the men, who surround you, that are nobody in
comparison of the intelligences, whom I proposa
to you for examples. It ill suits insignificant
men to consider themselves alone as in the cen
tre of divine benevolence, and as the only sub-
jects of a monarch, who reigns over all exist
ence. " He sitteth upon the circle of the earth,
whence the inhabitants appear to him as grass
hoppers. He bringeth princes to nothing, he
considereth the judges of the earth as vanity.
He shall blow upon them, and they shall wi
ther, and the whirlwind shall take them away
like stubble," Isa. xl. 22.

But ye, celestial intelligences, ye seraphim
burning with love, ye angels mighty in strength,
messengers of the divine will, spirits rapid as
the wind, and penetrating as fire, ye "redeemed
of all nations, all kindred, all people, all
tongues," Rev. v. 9; ye make the crowd, ye
fill the court of the sovereign of the world; and,
when we refuse to conform ourselves to this
world, we imitate you; and when the slaves of
the world shall :be loaded with chains of dark
ness, we shall share with you the " river of
pleasures" at the right hand of that God whom
you serve, and to whose service, we, like you,
devote ourselves. God grant us this grace!
To him be honour and glory for ever.
Amen.

LVII.]

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

35

SERMON LVII.

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

1 TIMOTHY iv. 8.
Godliness is profitable unto all things, having

promise of the life that now is, and of that

which is to come.

THERE never was a disposition more odi
ous, or more unjust than that of the profane
Jews, of whom Jeremiah speaks in the forty-
fourth chapter of his prophecies. He had ad
dressed to them the most pressing and patheti-
eal exhortations to dissuade them from wor
shipping the goddess Isis, and to divert them
from the infamous debaucheries, with which
the Egyptians accompanied it. Their reply
was in these words, " As for the word that thou
hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord,
we will not hearken unto thee: but we will
certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out
of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the
tjueen of heaven, and to pour out drink-offer
ings unto her, as we have done, we and our
fathers, our kings and our princes, in the cities
of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, for
then had we plenty of victuals, and were well
and saw no evil: but since we left off to burn
incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour
out drink-offerings unto her, we have wanted
all things, and have been consumed by the
sword, and by the famine," ver. 16 — 18. No
thing can equal the sacrifices which religion
requires of us; therefore nothing ought to
equal the recompense which it sets before us.
Sometimes it requires us, like the father of the
faithful, to quit our country and our relations,
and to go out, not knowing whither we go, ac
cording to the expression of St. Paul, Heb. xi.
8. Sometimes it requires us to tread in the
bloody steps of those who " had trial of cruel
mockings and scourgings, yea, of bonds and
imprisonment. Some were stoned, others were
sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with
the sword, wandered about in sheep skins, and
goat skins, being destitute, afflicted, torment
ed," ver. 36, 37. Always it calls us to triumph
over our passions, to renounce our own senses,
to mortify the flesh with its desires, and to
bring all the thoughts of our minds, and all
the emotions of our hearts into obedience to
Jesus Christ. To animate us to sacrifices so
great, it is necessary we should find in religion
a superiority of happiness and reward, and it
would be to rob it of all its disciples, to repre
sent it as fatal to the interests of such as pur
sue it.

As this disposition is odious, so it is unjust.
The miserable Jews, of whom the prophet
Jeremiah speaks, did indeed consult the pro
phets of God, but they would not obey their
voice; they would sometimes suspend their
idolatrous rites, but they would never entirely
renounce them: they discovered some zeal
for the exterior of religion, but they paid no
attention to the spirit and substance of it, and
as God refused to grant to this outside of piety
such advantages as he had promised to the

truly godly, they complained that the true re
ligion had been to them a source of misery.

Were they the Jews of the prophet's time?
Are they only Jews who make such a criminal
complaint? Are they the only persons, who,
placing religion in certain exterior perform
ances, and mutilated virtues, complain that
they do not feel that peace of conscience, those
ineffable transports, that anticipated heaven,
which are foretastes and earnests of eternal
joy? We are going to-day, my brethren, to
set before you the treasures, which God opens
to us in communion with him: but we are
going at the same time to trace out the cha
racter of those, on whom they are bestowed.
This is the design of this discourse, and for
this purpose we will divide it into two parts:
First, we will examine what the apostle means
by "godliness," in the words of the text: and
secondly, Point out the advantages affixed
to it. " Godliness is profitable unto all things,
having promise of the life that now is, and of
that which is to come."

I. What is godliness or piety? It is diffi
cult to include an idea of it in the bounds of
what is called a definition. Piety is a habit of
knowledge in the mind — rectitude in the con
science — sacrifice in the life — and zeal in the
heart. By the knowledge, that guides it, it is
distinguished from the visions of the supersti
tious: by the rectitude, from whence it pro
ceeds, it is distinguished from hypocrisy; by
the sacrifice, which justifies it, it .is distinguish
ed from the unmeaning obedience of him, who
goes as a happy constitution leads him; in fine,
by the fervour that animates it, it is distin
guished from the languishing emotions of the
lukewarm.

1. Piety supposes knowledge in the mind.
When God reveals a doctrine of religion to us,
he treats us as reasonable beings, -capable of
examination and reflection. He does not re-

Juire us to admit any truth without evidence,
f he would have us believe the existence of a
first cause, he engraves it on every particle of
the universe. If he would have us believe
the divinity of revelation, he would make
some character of that divinity shine in every
part of it. Would he have us believe the
immortality of the soul, he attests it in every
page of the sacred book. Accordingly, with
out previous knowledge, piety can neither
support us under temptations, nor enable us to
render to God such homage as is worthy of
him.

It cannot support us in temptation. When
Satan endeavours to seduce us he offers us
the allurements of present and sensible good,
and exposes in our sight the kingdoms of the
world and the glory of them. If we have no
thing to oppose against him but superficial
opinions of a precarious and ignorant system,
we shall not find ourselves in a condition to
withstand him.

Nor can piety destitute of knowledge ena
ble us to render to God such worship as is
worthy of him: for when do we render to
God worship suitable to his majesty? Is it
when submitting to the church, and saying to
a man, in the language of Scripture, Rabbi,
Rabbi, we place him on a sovereign throne,
and make our reason fall prostrate before his

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

[SKR. LVIL

intelligence? No, certainly; it is when, sub
mitting ourselves to the decisions of God, we
regard him as the source of truth and know
ledge, and believe, on his testimony, doctrines
the most abstruse, and mysteries the most sub
lime.

True piety is wise; it rises out of those pro
found reflections which the godly man makes
on the excellence of religion. " Open thou
mine eyes," said the prophet formerly, " that I
may behold wondrous things out of thy law.
I have more understanding than all my teach
ers, for thy testimonies are my meditation.
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light
unto my path. Mine eyes prevent the night
watches, that I might meditate in thy word,"
Ps. cxix. 18. 99. 105. 148.

This is the first character of godliness, and
this character distinguishes it from supersti
tion. A superstitious man does not derive his
principles from the source of knowledge. A
family tradition, a tale, a legend, a monkish
fable, the reverie of a confessor, the design of a
council, this is his law, this is his light, this is
his gospel.

2. Piety must be sincere, and this distin
guishes it from hypocrisy. A hypocrite puts
on all the appearance of religion, and adorns
himself with the most sacred part of it. Ob
serve his deportment, it is an affected gravity,
which nothing can alter. Hear his conversa
tion, he talks with a studied industry on the
most solemn subjects, he is full of sententious
sayings, and pious maxims, and so severo, that
he is ready to take offence at the most innocent
actions. Mind his dress, it is precise and sin
gular, and a sort of sanctity is affected in all
his furniture, and in all his equipage. Follow
him to a place of worship, there particularly
his hypocrisy erects its tribunal, and there he
displays his religion in all its pomp. There
he seems more assiduous than the most wise
and zealous Christians. There he lifts up his
eyes to heaven. There he sighs. There he
bedews the earth with his tears. In one word,
whatever seems venerable in the church he
takes pains to practise, and pleasure to dis
play.

Jesus Christ has given us the original of
this portrait in the persons of the pharisees of
his time; and the only inconvenience we find
in describing such characters is, that, speak
where we will, it seems as if we intended to
depict such individuals of the present age as
seem to have taken these ancient hypocrites
for their model. Never was the art of coun
terfeiting piety carried to such perfection by any
men as by the old Pharisees. They separated
themselves from a commerce with mankind,
whom they called in contempt " people of the
world."* They made long prayers. They
fasted every Monday and Friday. They lay
on planks and stones. They put thorns on the
bottom of their gowns to tear their flesh.
They wore strait girdles about their bodies.
They paid tithes, not only according to law,
but beyond what the law required. Above all,
they were great makers of proselytes, and this
was in some sort their distinguishing charac-

* See Godwin's Moses and Aaron. Book I. Chap. X.

Sect. 7.

ter, and when they had made one, they never
failed to instruct him thoroughly to hate all
such as were not of their opinion on particular
questions. All this was show, all this pro
ceeded from a deep hypocrisy: by all this
they had no other design than to acquire repu
tation for holiness, and to make themselves
masters of the people, who are more easily
taken with exterior appearances than with
solid virtue.

Such is the character of hypocrisy, a cha
racter that God detests. How often does Jesus
Christ denounce anathemas against people of
this character? How often does he cry con
cerning them, " wo, wo?" Sincerity is one
character of true piety, " O Lord, thou hast
proved my heart, thou hast visited me in the
night, thou hast tried me, and shall find no
thing; I am purposed that my mouth shall
not transgress. Lord, thou knowest all things,
thou knowest that I love thee," Ps. xvii. 3;
John xxi. 17. This character makes our love
to God resemble his to us. When God gives
himself to us in religion, it is not in mere ap
pearances and protestations: but it is with
real sentiments, emanations of heart.

3. Piety supposes sacrifice, and by this we
distinguish it from a devotion of humour and
constitution, with which it has been too often
confounded. There is a devotee of temper
and habit, who, really, has a happy disposi
tion, but which may be attended with danger
ous consequences. Such a man consults less
the law of God to regulate his conduct than
his own inclinations, and the nature of his con
stitution. As, by a singular favour of heaven,
he has not received one of those irregular con
stitutions, which most men have, but a happy
natural disposition, improved too by a good edu
cation, he finds in himself but little indispo
sition to the general maxims of Christianity.
Being naturally melancholy, he does not break
out into unbridled mirth, and excessive plea
sures. As he is naturally collected in himself,
and not communicative, he does not follow the
crowd through the turbulence and tumult of
the world. As he is naturally inactive, and
soon disgusted with labour and pains-taking,
we never see him animated with the madness
of gadding about every where, weighing him
self down with a multitude of business, not per
mitting any thing to happen in society without
being himself the first mover, and putting to it
the last hand. These are all happy incidents;
not to run into excessive pleasure, not to fol
low the crowd in the noise and tumult of the
world, not to run mad with hurry, and weary
himself with an infinity of business, to give up
the mind to recollection, all this is worthy of
praise; but what is a devotion of this kind,
that owes its birth only to incidents of this
sort? I compare it to the faith of the man
who believes the truths of the gospel only
through a headstrong prejudice, only because,
by a lucky chance, he had a father or a tutor
who believed them. As such a man cannot
have a faith acceptable to God, so neither can
he who obeys the laws of God, because, by a
sort of chance of this kind, they are conforma
ble to his natural temper, offer to him the sa
crifice of true obedience. Had you been na
turally inclined to dissipation, you would have

SER. LVIL]

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

37

been excessively dissipated, for the very sam
reason that you are now excessively fond oi
retirement Had you been naturally indus
trious, you would have exceeded in labouring
on the very principle which now inclines yoi
to be too fond of ease and stillness. Had you
been naturally inclined to mirth, you woulc
have shown excessive levity, on the very prin
ciple that now turns your gravity into gloom
and melancholy. Would you know your
selves? See, examine yourselves. You say
your piety inclines you to surmount all temp
tations to dissipation; but does it enable you to
resist those of retirement? it makes you firm
against temptations to pleasure, but does i
free you from sullenness? It enables you to
surmount temptations to violent exertions, bul
does it raise you above littleness? The same
may be said of the rest. Happy he, who ar
ranges his actions with a special regard to his
own heart, inquiring what he can find there
opposite to the law of God, attacking the strong
holds of Satan within himself, and directing
all his fire and force to that point. " They
that are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with
the affections and lusts. I beseech you, there
fore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye
present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy,
acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable
service. Sacrifice and offering thou dost not
desire, mine ears hast thou opened. Lo, I
come. I delight to do thy will, O my God,
yea, thy law is within my heart," Gal. v. 24;
Rom. x'ii. i; Ps. xl. 7, &c.

4. Zeal and fervour are the last characters
of piety. By this we know the godly man from
such lukewarm Christians as practise the duties
of religion in substance, but do so with a
coldness, that sinks the value of the service.
They can hear the afflictions of the church
narrated without emotion, and see a confused
heap of stones, sad remains of houses conse
crated to our God, without " favouring the
dust thereof," according to the expression of
Scripture. They can see the dimensions of
the "love" of God measured, the "breadth
and length, and depth and height," without
feeling the least warmth from the ardour and
flame of so vehement a love. They can be
present at the offering of one of those lively,
tender, fervent prayers, which God Almighty
himself condescends to hear and answer, and
for the sake of which he forgives crimes and
averts judgment, without entering at all into
the spirit of these subjects. Such men as these
require persuasion, compulsion, and power, to
force them.

A man, who truly loves God, has sentiments
of zeal and fervour. Observe David, see his
joy before the ark; neither the royal grandeur,
nor the prophetical gravity, nor the gazing of
the populace, nor the reproaches of an inter
ested wife, could cool his zeal. Observe Elijah,
" I have been," said he, " very jealous for the
Lord God of Hosts; for the children of Israel
have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down
thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the
sword, and I, even I only am left, and they
seek my life to take it away," 1 Kings xix.
10. Behold good Eli, the frost of fourscore
could not chill the ardour that inflamed him.
** What is there done, my son?" said he to the

unwelcome messenger, who came to inform
him of the defeat of his army: the messenger
replied, " Israel is fled before the Philistines,
and there hath also been a great slaughter
among the people, and thy two sons Hophni
and Phinehas are dead:" thus far he supported
himself; but the man went on to say, " the ark
of God is taken;" instantly on hearing that the
ark was gone, he " fell backward," the could
not survive the loss of that august symbol of
the divine presence, but died with grief. Ob
serve Nehemiah, to, -whom his royal master
put the question, " Why is thy countenance
sad?" said he, " Why should not my counte
nance be sad, when the city, the place of my
fathers' sepulchres lieth waste, and the gates
thereof are consumed with fire?" chap. ii. 2,
&c. Consider St. Paul, " We glory in tribu
lations, because the love of God is shed abroad
in our hearts, by the Holy Ghost which is
given unto us," Rom. v. 3. 5.

Do you imagine you truly love God, while
you have only languid emotions towards him,
and while you reserve all your activity and fire
for the world? There is between God and a
believer a tender and affectionate intercourse.
Godliness has its festivals and exuberances.
" Flesh and blood!" Ye that " cannot inherit
the kingdom of God," 1 Cor. xv. 50, ye im
pure ideas of concupiscence, depart, be gone
far away from our imaginations! There is a
time, in which the mystical spouse faints, and
utters such exclamations as these, " I sleep,
but my heart waketh. Set me as a seal upon
thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm, for love
is strong as death, jealousy as cruel as the
grave, the coals thereof are coals of fire, which
hath a most vehement flame. Many waters
cannot quench love, neither can floods drown
it," Cant. v. 2.

These are some characters of piety. Let us
go on to examine the advantages of it.

II. Our apostle says, " godliness is profitable
unto all things, having promise of the life that
now is, and of that which is to come." There
is an enormous difference between these two
sorts of blessings. The blessings of the life to
come are so far superior to the blessings of the
present life, that when we can assure ourselves
f the first, we ought to give ourselves very
ittle concern about the last. To add a drop
of water to the boundless ocean; to add a tem
poral blessing to the immense felicities, which
lappy spirits enjoy in the other life, is almost
;he same thing. St. Paul tells us, that the
idea of life to come so absorbs the idea of the
present life, that to consider these two objects
n this point of view, his eyes could hardly get
sight of the one, it was so very diminutive, and
lis mind reckoned the whole as nothing: " Our
ight affliction, which is but for a moment,
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory, while we look not at the things
which are seen, wl. 'ch are temporal, but at the
things which are not seen, which are eternal,"
2 Cor. iv. 17, 18.

Few imitate this apostle. The present, be
cause it is present; and in spite of its rapidity,
ixes our eyes, becomes a wall between us and
eternity, and prevents our perceiving it. We
should make many more converts to virtue,
;ould we prove that it would render mankind

38

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

[Sen. LVI1

happy here below, but we cannot change the
order of things. Jesus Christ and his apostles
have told us, that " in the world we shall have
tribulation," and that " all that will live godly
in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution," John
xvi. 33; 2 Tim. iii. 12. However, it is true,
that even here piety procures pleasures, which
usually surpass all those of worldly people: at
least, which are sufficient to support us in a
road leading to eternal happiness.

1. Consider first, how piety influences our
health. Our bodies decay, I allow, by number
less means. Death enters them by the air we
breathe, and by the elements that support them,
and whatever contributes to make them live,
contributes at the same time to make them die.
Let us allow, my brethren, that most maladies
take their rise in such excesses as the law of
God condemns. How can a man, devoured
with ambition, avarice and vengeance, a man
whose passions keep him in perpetual agitations,
depriving him of peace, and robbing him of
sleep; how can he, who passes whole nights
and days in gaming, animated with the desire
of gaining his neighbour's money, tortured by
turns with the hope of a fortune, and the fear
of a bankruptcy; how can he, who drowns
himself in wine, or overcharges himself with
gluttony; how can he, who abandons himself
without a curb to excessive lewdness, and who
makes every thing serve his voluptuousness;
how is it possible for people of these kinds to
expect a firm and lasting health? Godliness is
a bar to all these disorders; " the fear of the
Lord prolongeth days: it is a fountain of life
to guard us from the snares of death," Prov.
x. 27; and xii. 27. If then it be true that
health is an invaluable treasure, if it be that,
which ought to hold the first rank among the
blessings of life, if without it all others are of no
value, it is as certain that without love to the law
of God we cannot enjoy much pleasure in life.
The force of this reflection is certainly very
little felt in the days of youth and vigour, for
then we usually consider these as eternal ad
vantages, which nothing can alter: but when
old age comes, when by continual languors,
and by exquisite pains, men expiate the disor
ders of an irregular life, then that fear of God
is respected, which teaches us to prevent them.
Ye martyrs of concupiscence, ye victims of
voluptuousness, you, who formerly tasted the
pleasures of sin, and are now thoroughly feeling
the horrors of it, and who, in consequence of
your excesses, are already given up to an an
ticipated hell, do you serve us for demonstra
tion and example? You are become knowing
by experience, now teach our youth how bene
ficial it is to lead a regular life in their first
years, and as your intemperance has offended
the church, let the pains you endure serve to
restrain such as are weak enough to imitate
your bad examples. Those trembling hands,
that shaking head, those di tinted knees, that
extinguished resolution, that feeble memory,
that worn out brain, that body all infection and
putrefaction, these are the dreadful rewards
which the devil bestows on those on whom he
is preparing himself shortly to exercise all his
fury and rage. On this article, then, instead
of saying with the profane, " what profit is it
to keep the ordinances of God, and to walk

mournfully before the Lord of hosts?" Mai.
ii. 14. We ought to say with St. Paul, " What
fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye
are now ashamed? For the end of those things
is death," Rom. vi. 21.

2. Consider next how piety influences our
reputation. I am aware, that worldly men by
decrying piety, endeavour to avenge themselves
for the want of courage to practise it. I am
aware, too, that practise wickedness as much,
as often, and as far as ever we can, we shall
always find ourselves in a circle of companions
like ourselves. But after all, it is however
indisputable, that good people usually acquire
the respect of such as have not the laudable
ambition of imitating them. I appeal only to
your own conscience. Is it not true, that,
even while you are gratifying your own pas
sions, you cannot help admiring such as subdue
theirs? Is it not true, that, except on some
occasions, in which you want, and therefore
seek, accomplices in sin, you would rather
choose to form connexions, to make bargains,
and to deal with such as obey the laws of God,
than with those who violate them? And amidst
all the hatred and envy, which your irregula
rities excite against good people, is it not true,
that your heart feels more veneration for wise,
upright, and pious people, than for others, who
have opposite qualities? As these are your dis
positions towards others, know of a truth, they
are also dispositions of others towards you. Here
it is, that most men are objects of great pity.
The irregularities, which seem to conduct us to
the end we propose, are often the very causes
of our disappointment. May I not address one
of you thus? You trample upon all laws
human and divine; you build up a fortunate
house with the substance of widows, and or
phans, and oppressed people, and you cement
it with their blood; you sell your votes; you
defraud the state; you deceive your friends;
you betray your correspondents, and after you
have enriched yourself by such ways, you set
forth in a most pompous manner your riches,
your elegant furniture, your magnificent pa
laces, your superb equipages, and you think
the public take you fora person of great consi
deration, and that every one is erecting in his
heart an altar to your fortune. No such thing.
You deceive yourself. Every one says in pri
vate, and some blunt people say to your face,
you are a knave, you are a public blood-sucker,
and all your magnificence displays nothing but
your crimes. May I not say to another, You
affect to mount above your station by arrogant
language, and mighty assumptions. You deck
yourself with titles, and adorn yourself with
names unknown to your ancestors. You put
on a supercilous deportment, that ill assorts
with the dust which covered you the other day,
and you think by these means to efface the re
membrance of your origin. No such thing.
You deceive yourself. Every one takes plea
sure in showing you some of your former rags
to mortify your pride, and they say to one an
other, he is a mean genius, he is a fool, he re
sembles distracted men, who having persuaded
themselves that they are princes, kings, empe
rors, call their cottage a palace, their stick a
sceptre, and their domestics courtiers. May I
not speak thus to a third, You are intoxicated

SER. LVIL]

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

39

with your own splendour, and fascinated with
your own charms, you aspire at nothing less
than to make all mankind your worshippers,
offering incense to the idol you yourself adore;
with this view you break through the bounds
of law, and the decency of your sex; your
dress is vain and immodest, your conversation
is loose, your deportment is indecent, and you
think the world take you for a sort of goddess.
No such thing. You deceive yourself. Peo-
.ple say you have put off Christian modesty,
and laid aside even worldly decency, and as
they judge of your private life by your public
deportment, how can they think otherwise?
Fathers forbid their sons to keep your compa
ny, and mothers exhort their daughters to
avoid your bad example.

3. Observe how godliness influence^ our/or-
ttme, by procuring us the confidence of other
men, and above all by acquiring the blessing
of God on our designs and undertakings. —
You are sometimes astonished at the alarming
changes that happen in society, you are sur
prised to see some families decay, and others
fall into absolute ruin. You cannot compre
hend why some people, who held the other
day the highest places in society, are now fal
len from that pinnacle of grandeur, and involv
ed in the deepest distress. Why this atonish-
ment? There is a Providence, and though
God often hides himself, though the ways of
his providence are usually impenetrable, though
it would be an unjust way of reasoning to say,
such a person is wealthy, therefore he is holy,
such a one is indigent, therefore he is wicked;
yet the Lord sometimes comes out of that dark
ness in which he usually conceals himself, and
raises a saint out of obscurity into a state of
wealth and honour.

4. Consider what an influence godliness has
in our happiness by calming our passions, and
by setting bounds to our desires. Our faculties
are finite: but our desires are boundless. From
this disproportion between our desires and our
faculties a thousand conflicts arise, which dis
tress and destroy the soul. Observe the la
bour of an ambitious man, he is obliged to
sacrifice to his prince his ease, his liberty, and
his life; he must appear to applaud what he
inwardly condemns; and he must adjust all
his opinions and sentiments by the ideas of his
master. See wihat toils worldly honour im
poses on its votaries; a man of honour must
revenge an affront after he has pardoned it, and
to that he must expose his establishment and
his fortune, he must run the risk of being
obliged either to quit his country, or to suffer
such punishment as the law inflicts on those,
who take that sword into their own hands,
which God has put into the hand of the magis
trate, he must stab the person he loves, the
person who loves him, and who offended him
more through inadvertence than animosity; he
must stifle all the suggestions which conscience
urges against a man who ventures his salvation
on the precarious success of a duel, and who
by so doing braves all the horrors of hell.
Above all, what is the condition of a heart,
with what cruel alternatives is it racked and
torn, when it is occupied by two passions,
which oppose and counteract each other. Take
ambition and avarice for an example; for, my

brethren, the heart of a man is sometimes the seat
of two opposite tyrants, each of whom has views
and interests different from the other. Avarice
says keep, ambition says give, avarice says
hold fast, ambition says give up. Avarice
says retire, ambition says go abroad. Ambi
tion combats avarice, avarice combats ambi
tion, each by turns distresses the heart, and if it
groans under tyranny, whether avarice or am
bition be the tyrant is indifferent. The plea
sure of seeing one passion reign is always poi
soned by the pain of seeing the other subdued.
They resemble that woman, whose twin " chil
dren struggled together within her," and who
said during the painful sensations, If it must be
so, why was I a mother?

Piety prevents these fatal effects, it makes us
content with the condition in which Providence
has placed us: it does more, it teaches us to be
happy in any condition, how mean soever it
may be. "I have learned in whatsoever state
I am, therewith to be content: I know both
how to be abased, and I know how to abound.
Every where and in all things I am instructed,
both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound
and to suffer need," Phil. iv. 11, 12.

5. Consider the peace which piety diffuses
in the conscience. The prosperity of those
who desire to free themselves from conscience,
is such as to make them miserable in the midst
of their greatest success. What pleasure can
a man enjoy, who cannot bear to be one mo
ment alone; a man, who needs perpetual dis
sipation to hide from himself his real condition;
a man, who cannot reflect on the past without
remorse, think on the present without confu
sion, or the future without despair; a man,
who carries within himself that obstinate re
prover, on whom he cannot impose silence,
a man, who already feels the " worm that dieth
not" gnawing him; a man, who sees in the
midst of his most jovial festivals the writing
" of a man's hand," which he cannot read, but
which his conscience most faithfully and terri
bly interprets; I ask what pleasure can such a
man enjoy?

Godliness not only frees us from these tor
ments, but it communicates joy into every part
of the pious man's life. If the believer be in
prosperity, he considers it as an effect of the
goodness of God, the governor of this universe,
and as a pledge of blessings reserved for him in
another world. If he be in adversity, indeed
he considers it as a chastisement coming from
the hand of a wise and tender parent: and the
same may be said of every other condition.

6. In fine, consider how piety influences the
happiness of life, by the assurance it gives us of
a safe, if not a comfortable death. There is
not a single moment in life, in which it is not
possible we should die; consequently there is
not one instant, that may not be unhappy, if
we be not in a condition to die well. While
we are destitute of this assurance, we live in
perpetual trouble and agitation; we see the
sick, we meet funeral processions, we attend
the dying, and all these different objects become
motives of horror and pain. It is only when
we are prepared to die well, that we bid de
fiance to winds and waves, fires and ship
wrecks, and that, by opposing to all these
perilous casualties the hope of a happy death,.

40

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

. LVII.

we every where experience the joy with which
it inspires such as wait for it

Collect all these articles, and unite all these
advantages in one. I ask now, is it an impro
bable proposition, that virtue has a reward in
itself, sufficient to indemnify us for all we suf
fer on account of it, so that though there were
nothing to expect from this life, yet it would
be a problem, whether it would not be better,
all things considered, to practise godliness than
to live in sin.

But this is not the consequence we mean to
draw from our principles. We do not intend
to make this use of our observations. * We will
not dispute with the sinner whether he finds
pleasure in the practice of sin, but as he as
sures us, that it gives him more pleasure to
gratify his passions than to subdue them, we
will neither deny the fact, nor find fault with
his taste, but allow that he must know better
than any body what gives himself most plea
sure. We only derive this consequence from
all we have been hearing, that the advantages
which accompany godliness, are sufficient to
support us in a course of action, that leads to
eternal felicity.

This eternal felicity the apostle had chiefly
in view, and on this we would fix your atten
tion in the close of this discourse. " Godliness
hath promise of the life that now is," is a pro
position, we think, plain and clear: but how
ever, it is disputable you say, subject to many
exceptions, and liable to a great number of
difficulties: but "godliness hath promise of the
life that is to come," is a proposition which
cannot be disputed, it is free from all difficulty,
and can admit of no exception.

Having taken up nearly all the time allotted
to this exercise, I will finish with one reflection.
" Promise of the life to come," annexed to god
liness, is not a mere promise, it puts even in
this life the pious man in possession of one part
of the benefits, the perfect possession of which
he lives in hope of enjoying. Follow him
in four periods — First in society — Next in the
closet — Then in a participation of holy ordi
nances — And lastly, at the approach of death:
you will find him participating the eternal feli
city, which is the object of his hope.

In society. What is the life of a man, who
never goes into the company of his fellow crea
tures without doing them good; of a man who
after the example of Jesus Christ " goes about
doing good;" a man, who every where shows
the light of a good example, who endeavours
to win all hearts to God, who never ceases to
publish his perfections, and to celebrate his
praise, what, I ask, is the life of such a man? It
is an angelical life, it is a heavenly life, it is an
anticipation of that life which happy spirits
live in heaven, it is a foretaste and prelibation
of those pleasures which are at the " right hand
of God," and of that " fulness of joy," which
is found in contemplating his majesty.

Follow the pious man into the silent closet.
There he recollects, concentres himself, and
loses himself in God. There, iu the rich
source of religion, he quenches the thirst of
knowing, elevating, perpetuating, and extend
ing himself, which burns within him, and there
he feels how God, the author of his nature,
proportions himself to the boundless capacity of

the human heart. There, ye earthly thoughts,
ye worldly cares, ye troublesome birds of prey,
that so often perplex us in life, there you have
no access! There, revolving in his mind the
divers objects presented to him in religion, he
feels the various emotions that are proper to
each. Sometimes the rich gifts of God in
nature, and the insignificance of man the re
ceiver, are objects of his contemplation, and
then he exclaims, "O Lord, my Lord, how
excellent is thy name in all the earth! When I
consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,
the moon and the stars which thou hast ordain
ed," Ps. viii. I.Z.I cannot help crying, " What
is man that thou art mindful of him! and the
son of man that thou visitest him!" ver. 4.
Sometimes the brightness of the divine perfec
tions shining in Jesus Christ fixes his attention,
and then he exclaims, " Thou art fairer than
the children of men, grace is poured into thy
lips, therefore God hath blessed thee for ever!"
Ps. xlv. 2. Sometimes his mind contemplates
that train of favours, with which God has en
riched every believer in his church, and then
he cries, " Many, O Lord my God, are thy won
derful works which thou hast done, and thy
thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be
reckoned up in order before thee! Would I
declare and speak of them, they are more than
can be numbered!" Ps. xl. 5. Sometimes it is
the sacrifice of the cross, and then he says,
" Without controversy great is the mystery of
godliness; God was manifest in the flesh!"
1 Tim. iii. 16. Sometimes it is the joy of
possessing God, and then his language is, " My
soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness!"
Ps. Ixiii. 5. Sometimes it is the desire of en
joying God in a greater measure, and in a
richer abundance, and then he says with Asaph,
" My supreme good is to draw near to God.
When shall I come, O when shall I come and
appear before God!" Ps. Ixxiii. 28, and xlii. 2.

Follow this man in the participation of holy
ordinances. Represent to yourselves a man,
who after preparing himself some days, or
some weeks for the holy communion, bringing
thither a heart proportioned to the labour,
which he has taken to dispose it properly: ima
gine such a man sitting at this table along with
the ambitious, the impure, the revengeful, the
vain, all the members of this community; sup
pose this man saying to himself, they are not
only men who see and consider me, they are
angels, who encamp around such as love God;
it is Jesus Christ, who sits amidst his disciples
assembled in his name; it is God himself who
sees all, and examines all the dispositions I
bring to his table. It is not only an invitation
to this table given by ministers, it is " wisdom
who hath furnished her table, mingled her
wine," Prov. ix. 1, 2, and who cries, " Ho,
every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters,"
Isaiah Iv. It is my Saviour, who says to me,
" With desire I have desired to eat with you,'*
Luke xxii. 15. It is not only material bread
that I am receiving, it is a symbol of the body
and blood of Christ, it is his flesh and blood
under the elements of bread and wine. It will
be not only a little tranquillity of conscience,
which I shall receive at this table, if I enter
into the spirit of the mystery set before rne:
but I shall have consolations on my death-bed,

SER. LVIL]

THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY.

41

triumphs after death, and oceans of felicity and
glory for ever. God has not preserved me till
now merely to give me an opportunity of sit
ting here: but to open to me the treasures of
his patience and long-suffering; to enable me
to repent of my former negligence of breaking
the sabbath, profaning the communion, com
mitting iniquity, forgetting my promises, and
offending my Creator.

I ask, my brethren, what is the man who ap
proaches the Lord's table with such dispositions?
Is he a common man? Verily with eyes of
flesh, I see nothing to distinguish him from the
crowd. I see this man confounded with all
others, whom a lax discipline suffers to partake
of this ordinance, and to receive with unclean
hands and a profane mouth, the most holy
symbol of our religion; at most, I see only an
agitation of his senses, a spark shining in his
eye, a look cast towards heaven, emotions
which the veil of humility that covers him
cannot entirely conceal: but with the eyes of
my mind I behold a man of a superior order,
a man in paradise, a man nourished with plea
sure at the right hand of God, a man at whose
conversion the angels of God rejoice, a man
fastened to the triumphal car of Jesus Christ,
and who makes the glory of the triumph, a
man who has the happy art of making heaven
descend into his soul; I behold amidst the mi
series and vanities of the world, a man already
"justified," already "raised," already "glo
rified," already "sitting in heavenly places
with Jesus Christ," Rom. viii. 30; Eph. ii. 6.
I see a man ascending to heaven along with
Jesus Christ, amids the shouting of the hea
venly choir, " Lift up your heads, O ye gates,
and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and
let the King of glory in," Ps. xxiv. 7. I see a
man " with uncovered face beholding the glory
of the Lord," and changing "from glory to
glory by the Spirit of the Lord," 2 Cor. iii. 18.

But it is particularly in a dying bed that the
pious man enjoys foretastes of the life to come.
A worldling is confounded at the approach of
that dismal night, which hides futurity from
him; or rather, despair seizes his soul at the
rising of that dreadful light, which discovers
to him a dispensation of punishment, in spite
of his obstinate denial of it. Then he sees
fire, flames, devils, " a lake of fire, the smoke
of which ascendeth up for ever and ever."
Then he shrinks back from the bitter cup, the

dregs of which he must drink; he tries, though
in vain, to put off the end by his too late
prayer, and he cries at its approach " Moun
tains fall on me, hills cover me!" As for the
believer, he sees and desires nothing but that
dispensation of happiness, which he has already
embraced by faith, possessed by hope, and
tasted by the comforts of the Holy Spirit in his
soul; and hence comes that active fervour,
which makes his countenance luminous like
that of departing Stephen. I cannot better
express such sentiments than in the words of
the primitive saints, who so happily experi
enced them.

" I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord! I
know that my Redeemer liveth, and though
after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in
my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for
myself, and mine eyes shall behold and not an
other. Though thou slayest me, yet will I
trust in thee, O God! Though I walk through
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear
no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy
staff they comfort me. I know whom I have
believed, and I am persuaded, that he is able
to keep that which I have committed unto him
against that day. Neither count I my life dear
so that I might finish my course with joy, and the
ministry which I have received of the Lord.
I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is
far better. Lord Jesus receive my spiiit. I
have fought a good fight, I have finished my
course, I have kept the faith, henceforth there
is laid up for me a crown of righteousness. O
death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is
thy victory? In these things we are more than
conquerors, through him that loved us. As
the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so
panteth my soul after thee, O God! my soul
thirsteth for God, for the living God! When
shall I come and appear before God? How
amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts!
My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the
courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry
out for the living God. Blessed are they that
dwell in thy house, they will be still praising
thee! Thine altars, even thine altars, O Lord
of hosts, my King and my God."

May you all, my brethren, may every one of
you, know these truths by experience. God
grant you the grace. To him be honour and
glory for ever.

VOL. II.— 6

42

THE REPENTANCE OF

[San. LVIII.

SERMON LVIII.

THE REPENTANCE OF THE UN
CHASTE WOMAN.

LUKE vii. 36 — 50.
And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would
eat with him. And he went into the Pharisee's
house, and sat down to meat. And behold, a
woman in the city, which was a sinner, when
she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's
house, brought an alabaster box of ointment,
and stood at his feet behind him' weeping, and
began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe
them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his
feet, and anointed them with the ointment.
Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him,
saw it, he spake icithin himself, saying, this
man, if he were a prophet, would have known
who, and what manner of woman this is that
toucheth him: for she is a sinner. And Jesus
answering, said unto him, Simon, I have some
what to say unto thee. And he saith, Master,
say on. There was a certain creditor, which
had two debtors: the one owed five hundred
pence, and the other fifty. And when they had
nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.
Tell me therefore, which of them will love him
most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that
he to whom he forgave most. And he said unto
him, thou hast rightly judged. And he turned
to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou
this woman? I entered into thine house, thou
gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath
washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with
the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss;
but this woman, since the time I came in, hath
not ceased to kiss my feet. Mine head with oil
thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath
anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore

I say unto thee, her sins which are many, are
forgiven; for she loveth much: but to whom
little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And
he said unto her, thy sins are forgiven. And
they that sal at meat with him, began to say
within themselves, who is this that forgiveth sins
also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith
hath saved thee; go in peace.

II LET me fall into the hands of the Lord,
for his mercies are great: but let me not fall
into the hand of man," 2 Sam. xxiv. 14.
This was the request that David made in the
most unhappy moment of his life. A prophet
sent by an avenging God came to bring him a
choice of afflictions, " I offer thee three things,
choose one of them, that I may do it unto
thee. — Shall three years of famine come unto
thee in thy land? or wilt thou flee three months
before thine enemies, while they pursue thee?
or that there be three days pestilence in thy
land? Now advise, and see what answer I shall
return to him that sent me," ver. 12, Sac.

What a proposal was this to a man accus
tomed to consider Heaven as a source of bene
dictions and favours! Henceforth he was to
consider it only as a cavern of thunder and
lightning, flashing and rolling, and ready to
strike him dead! which of these punishments
would he choose? Which of them could he
choose without reproaching himself in future

that he had chosen the worst? Which would
you have chosen had you been in his place, my
brethren? Would you have determined for war?
Could you have borne the bare idea of it? Could
you have endured to see the once victorious
armies of Israel led in triumph by an enemy,
the ark of the Lord a captive, a cruel and bar
barous soldiery reducing a kingdom to ashes,
rasing fortresses, ravaging a harvest, and de
stroying in a moment the crop of a whole year?
Would you have determined for famine? Would
you have chosen to have the heaven become as
iron, and the earth brass, the seed dying in the
earth, or the corn burning before it was ripe?
" The locust eating what the palmer worm had
left, and the canker worm eating what the lo
cust had left," Joel i. 4; men snatching bread
from one another's hands, struggling between
life and death, and starving till food would af
ford no nourishment? Would you have chosen
mortality? Could you have reconciled your
selves to the terrible times in which contagion
on the wings of the wind carries its deadly poi
son with the rapidity of lightning from city to
city, from house to house; a time in which social
living is at an end, when each is wholly em
ployed in guarding himself from danger, and
has no opportunity to take care of others; when
the father flees from the sight of the son, the
son from that of the father, the wife avoids the
husband, the husband the wife; when each
dreads the sight of the person he most esteems,
and receives, and communicates poisonous and
deadly infection? These are the dreadful pu
nishments out of which God required guilty
David to choose one. These he was to weigh
in a balance, while he agitated the mournful
question, which of the three shall I choose for
my lot? However, he determines, " Let me fall
into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies are
great: but let me not fall into the hand of man."
He thought, that immediate strokes from the
hand of a God, merciful though displeased,
would be most tolerable. He could conceive
nothing more terrible than to see between God
and himself, men who would intercept his looks,
and would prevent his access to the throne of
grace.

My brethren, the wish of David under his
consternation may direct ours in regard to all
the spots that have defiled our lives. True, the
eyes of God are infinitely more pure than those
of men. He indeed discovers frailties in our
lives which have escaped our notice, and " if
our heart condemns us, God is greater than our
heart." It is true, he hath punishments to in
flict on us infinitely more dreadful than any
mankind can invent, and if men can " kill the
body, God is able to destroy both soul and body
in hell." However, this Almighty God, this
terrible, this avenging God, is a merciful God,
"great are his tender mercies;" but men, men
are cruel; yea, the very men who allow them
selves to live in the most shameful licentious
ness, men who have the most need of the pa
tience of others, men who themselves deserve
the most rigorous punishments, these very men
are usually void of all pity for their fellows.
Behold a striking example. The unchaste wo
man in the text experienced both, and by turns
made trial of the judgment of God, and the
judgment of men. But she met with a very

SER. LVIII.]

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

43

different treatment. In Jesus Christ she found
a very severe legislator, who left her awhile to
shed tears, and very bitter tears; a legislator,
who left her awhile to her own grief, and sat
and saw her hair dishevelled, and her features
distorted; but who soon took care to dry up her
tears, and to address this comfortable language
to her, " Go in peace." On the contrary, in
the hands of men she found nothing but bar
barity and cruelty. She heard a supercilious
Pharisee endeavour to arm against her the Re
deemer of mankind, try to persuade him to
denounce on her sentence of death, even while
she was repenting of her sin, and to do his ut
most to cause condemnation to flow from the
Very fountain of grace and mercy.

It is this instructive, this comfortable history,
that we set before you to-day, and which pre
sents three very different objects to our medi
tation, the conduct of the incontinent woman,
that of the Pharisee, and that of Jesus Christ.
In the conduct of the woman, prostrate at the
feet of our SaViour, you see the principal cha
racters of repentance. In that of the Pharisee
you may observe the venom which not unfre-
quently infects the judgments which mankind
make of one another. And in that of Jesus
Christ you may behold free and generous emo
tions of pity, mercy, and compassion. Let us
enter into jthe matter.

I. Let us first observe the incontinent woman
now become a penitent. The question most
controverted by interpreters, and very differ
ently answered by them, is that, which in our
opinion is the least important, that is, who was
this woman? Not that a perfect knowledge of
her person, and the history of her life, would
not be very proper, by explaining the nature of
her sins, to give us a just idea of her repentance,
and so contribute to elucidate the text: but be
cause, though we have taken a great deal of
pains, we have found nothing on this article
worthy to be proposed to critical hearers, who
insist upon being treated as rational men, and
who refuse to determine a point without evi
dence.

I know, some expositors, misled by a resem
blance between this anointing of Jesus Christ,
and that mentioned in the eleventh chapter of
St. John, when our Saviour supped with Laza
rus, have supposed that the woman here spoken
of was the same Mary, the sister of Lazarus,
who paid such a profound attention to the dis
course of Jesus Christ, and who, according to
the evangelist, " anointed the Lord with oint
ment, and wiped his feet with her hair." And
as other parts of the gospel speak of another
"Mary called Magdalen," some have thought
that Mary the sister of Lazarus, Mary Magda
len, " out of whom" it is said, Jesus Christ had
"cast seven devils," and the woman of our
text, were one and the same person.

We do not intend to enter on these discus
sions. It is sufficient to know, first, that the
woman here in question lived in the city of
Nain, which sufficiently distinguishes her from
Mary the sister of Lazarus, who was at Betha
ny, and from Mary Magdalen, who probably
was so called, because she was born at Magdala,
a little town in the tribe of Manasseh. Second
ly, the woman of our text was one of a bad life,
that is to say, guilty of impurity. The original

word signifies a sinner. This term sometimes
signifies in Scripture the condition of such as
lived out of the covenant, and in this sense it is
used in the epistle to the Galatians, where St.
Paul calls pagans sinners: but the word is ap
plied in Greek authors to those women who
were such as all the circumstances of our his
tory engage us to consider this woman. Though
it is easy to determine the sin of this woman in
general, yet it is not easy to determine the par
ticular kind, whether it had been adultery, or
prostitution, or only some one criminal intrigue.
Our reflections will by turns regard each of
these conditions. In fine, it is highly probable,
both by the discourse of the Pharisee, and by
the ointment, with which this woman anointed
the feet of Jesus Christ, that she was a person
of some fortune. This is all 1 know on this sort
of questions. Should any one require more, I
should not blush to avow my ignorance, and to
recommend him to guides wiser than any I have
the honour of being acquainted with, or to such
as possess that, which in my opinion, of all the
talents of learned men, seems to me least to be
envied, I mean that of having fixed opinions on
doubtful subjects unsupported by any solid ar
guments.

We will confine ourselves to the principal
circumstances of the life of this sinner; and to
put our observations into a kind of order, we
will examine first, her grief — next, the Saviour
to whom she applied — then, the love that in
flamed her — and lastly, the courage with which
she was animated. In these four circumstances
we observe four chief characters of repentance.
First, Repentance must be lively, and accom
panied with keen remorse. Our sinner weeps,
and her tears speak the language of her heart.
Secondly, Repentance must be wise in its appli
cation. Our sinner humbles herself at the feet
of him, "who is the propitiation for our sins,
and not for ours only, but also for the sins of
the whole- world," 1 John ii. 2. Thirdly, Re
pentance must be tender in its exercise, and
acts of divine love must take place of the love
of sin. Fourthly, Repentance must be bold.
Our sinner surmounts all the scruples dictated
by false honour, she goes into the house of the-
Pharisee, and acknowledges her misconduct in
the presence of all the guests, and was no more
ashamed to disavow her former crimes than she
had been to commit them.

We consider, in the repentance of this wo
man the grief with which she was penetrated.
Repentance must be accompanied with keen
remorse. It is the chief character of it. In
whatever class of unchaste people this woman
ought to be placed, whether she had been a
common prostitute, or an adulteress, or whe
ther being unmarried she had abandoned her
self for once to criminal voluptuousness, she
had too much reason to weep and lament. If
she had been guilty of prostitution, she could
not shed tears too bitter. Can any colours suf
ficiently describe a woman, who is arrived at
such a pitch of impurity as to eradicate every
degree of modesty; a woman letting herself out
to infamy, and giving herself up to the highest
bidder; one who publicly devotes .herself to the
greatest excesses, whose house is a school of
abomination, whence proceed those detestable
maxims, which poison the minds of men, and

44

THE REPENTANCE OF

. LVIII,

those infamous debaucheries, which infect the
body, and throw whole families into a state of
putrefactioa? It is saying too little to affirm
that this woman ought to shed bitter tears at
the recollection of her scandalous and dissolute
life. The priests and magistrates, and people
of Nain ought to have covered themselves in
sackcloth and ashes, for having tolerated such
a house, for not having one spark of the zeal
of " Phinehas the son of Eleazar," Numb. xxv.
1 1 . For having left one stone upon another as
a monument of the profligacy of the city, and
for not having rased the very foundations of
such a house, though they, who were employed
in the business, had been buried in the ruins.
One such a house suffered in a city is enough
to draw down the curse of heaven on a whole
province, a whole kingdom.

Rome, what a fair opportunity have I now
to confound thee! Am I not able to produce
in the sight of the whole world full proof of thy
shame and infamy? Do not a part of thy reve
nues proceed from a tax on prostitution?* Are
not prostitutes of both sexes thy " nursing fa
thers and nursing mothers?" Is not the holy
see in part supported, to use the language of
Scripture, by "the hire of a whore, and the
price of a dog?" Deut. xxxii. 18. But alas! I
should leave thee too much reason to retort.
I should fear, you would oppose our excesses
against your excesses. I should have too much
reason to fear a wound by the dart shot at thee.
I should tremble lest thou shouldst draw it
smoking from thine own unclean heart, and
lodge it in ours. O God! " teach my hands to
day to war, and my ringers to fight." My
brethren, should access to this pulpit be for ever
forbidden to us in future; though I were sure
this discourse would be considered as a torch
of sedition intended to set all these provinces in
a flame; and should a part of the punishment
due to the fomenters of the crime fall upon the
head of him who has the courage to reprove it,
I do, and I will declare, that the prosperity of
these provinces can never, no never, be well
established, while such affronts are publicly
offered to the majesty of that God, " who is of
purer eyes than to behold evil," Hab. i. 13.
Ah! proclaim no more fasts, convoke no more
solemn assemblies, appoint no more public pray
ers to avert the anger of heaven. " Let not
the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep be
tween the porch and the altar, let them not say,
spare thy people, O Lord, and give not thine
heritage to reproach," Joel ii. 17. All this ex
terior of devotion will be useless, while there
are amongst us places publicly set apart for
impurity. The filthy vapour that proceeds from
them will ascend, and form a thick cloud be
tween us and the throne of grace, a cloud which
the most ardent prayers cannot pierce through.

Perhaps our penitent had been guilty of adul
tery. What idea must a woman form of herself,
if she has committed this crime, and considers
it in its true point of light? Let her attentively
observe the dangerous condition into which she
has plunged herself, and that to which she is
yet exposed. She has taken for her model the
woman described by Solomon, and who has had
too many copies in latter ages, that " strange

* See Sermon xiiii. in the note.

woman in the attire of a harlot, who is subtle
of heart, loud and stubborn, her feet abiding not
in her house, now without, now in the streets,
lying in wait at every corner, and saying to
such among the youth as are void of under
standing, " I have peace-offerings with me, this
day have I paid my vows. I have decked my
bed with coverings of tapestry, with fine linen
of Egypt. I have perfumed my bed with myrrh,
aloes, and cinnamon. Come, let us take our
fill of love, for the good man is not at home, he
is gone a long journey, and will not come home
till the day appointed," Prov. vii. 5, &c. Is it
necessary, think you, my brethren, to alter
many of these descriptive expressions to give a
likeness of the manners of our times?

Are not modern dissipations described in the
perpetual motion of this "strange woman,
whose feet abide not in her house, who is now
without in the country, then in the streets,
and at every corner?" What are some curious,
elegant, and fashionable dresses, but the " at
tire of a harlot?" Are not the continual arti
fices, and accumulated dissimulations, which
some people use to conceal future designs, or
to cover past crimes, are not these features of
this "subtle woman?" What are those pains
taken to form certain parties of pleasure, but
features of this woman, who says, "I have
peace-offerings with me, I have this day paid
my vows, come, let us solace ourselves with
loves?" What are certain moments expected
with impatience, managed with industry, and
employed with avidity, but features of this
woman, who says " to fools among the youth,
the good man is not at home, nor will he
come home till the day appointed?" — I stop —
if the unchaste woman in the text, had been
guilty of adultery, she had defiled the most
sacred and inviolable of all connexions. She
had kindled discord in the family of him who
was the object of her criminal regard. She
had given an example of impurity and perfidy
to her children and her domestics, toj.he world
and to the church. She had affronted in the
most cruel and fatal manner the man, to whom
she owed the tenderest attachment, and the
most profound respect. She had covered her
parents with disgrace, and provoked such as
knew her debauchery to inquire from which
of her ancestors she had received such impure
and tainted blood. She had divided her heart
and her bed with the most implacable enemy
of her family. She had hazarded the legiti
macy of her children, and confounded the law
ful heir with a spurious offspring. Are any tears
too bitter to expiate such an odious complica
tion of crimes? Is any quantity too great to
shed, to wash away such guilt as this?

But we will not take pains to blacken the
reputation of this penitent: we may suppose
her unchaste, as the evangelist leads us to do,
without supposing her an adulteress or a pros
titute. She might have fallen once, and only
once. Her sin, however, even in this case,
must have become a perpetual source of sor
row: thousands and thousands of sad reflec
tions must have pierced her heart. Was this
the only fruit of my education? Is this all I
have learned from the many lessons, that have
been given me from my cradle, and which
seem so proper to guard me for ever against

SER. LVIIL]

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

45

the rocks where my feeble virtue has been ship
wrecked? I have renounced the decency of my
sex, the appurtenances of which always have
been timidity, scrupulosity, delicacy, and mo
desty. I have committed one of those crimes
which, whether it were justice or cruelty, man
kind never forgive. I have given myself up
to the unkindness and contempt of him, to
whom I have shamefully sacrificed my honour.
I have fixed daggers in the hearts of my pa
rents; I have caused that to be attributed to
their negligence, which was occasioned only
by my own depravity and folly. I have ban
ished myself for ever from the company of
prudent persons. How can I bear their looks?
Where can I find a night dark enough to con
ceal me from their sight?

Thus might our mourner think; but to refer
all her grief to motives of this kind would be
to insult her repentance. She has other mo
tives more worthy of a penitent. This heart,
the heart that my God demanded with so much
condescension -and love, I have denied him,
and given up to voluptuousness. This body,
which should have been a " temple of the Holy
Ghost," is become the den of an impure pas
sion. The time and pains I should have em
ployed in the work of my salvation, I have
spent in robbing Jesus Christ of his conquests.
I have disputed with my Saviour the souls he
redeemed with his blood, and what he came to
save I have endeavoured to sink in perdition.
I am become the cause of the remorse of my
accomplice in sin, he considers me with horror,
.he reproaches me with the very temptations,
to which he exposed me, and when our eyes
meet in a religious assembly, or in the perfor
mance of a ceremony of devotion, he tacitly
tells me, that I made him unworthy to be
there. I shall be his executioner on his death
bed, perhaps I shall be so through all eternity.
I have exposed myself to a thousand dangers,
from which nothing but the grace of God has
protected me, to a thousand perils and dreadful
consequences, the sad and horrible examples
which stain all history. Such are the causes
of the tears of this penitent. " She stood at
the feet of Jesus Christ, weeping, and washed
his feet with tears." This is the first character
of true repentance, it consists in part in keen
remorse.

Repentance must be wise in its application.
Our sinner did not go to the foot of Mount Si
nai to seek for absolution under pretence of
her own righteousness, and to demand justifi
cation as a reward due to her works. She was
afraid, as she had reason to be, that the lan
guage of that dreadful mountain proceeding
from the mouth of divine justice would pierce
her through. Nor did she endeavour to ward
off the blows of justice by covering herself with
superstitious practices. She did not say,
"wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and
bow myself before the high God? shall I come
before him with burnt-offerings, with calves of a
year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thou
sands of rams, or with ten thousand rivers of
oil? Shall I give my first-born for my trans
gression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my
soul?" Micah vi. 7. She did not even require
priests and Levites to offer propitiatory sacrl
fices for her. She discerned the sophisms of

error, and acknowledged the Redeemer of
mankind, under the veils of infirmity and po
verty that covered him. She knew that " the
blood of bulls and of goats" could not purify
the conscience. She knew that Jesus sitting
at table with the Pharisee was the only offer
ing, the only victim of worth sufficient to sat
isfy the justice of an offended God. She knew
that he was " made unto sinners wisdom, and
righteousness, and sanctification and redemp
tion:" that his name was " the only one among
men whereby they might be saved." It was
to Jesus Christ that she had recourse, bedew
ing with tears the feet of him who was about
to shed his blood for her, and receiving by an
anticipated faith the benefit of the death that
he was going to suffer, she renounced depend-
ance on every kind of satisfaction except his.

The third character of the repentance of this
sinner is love. It should seem, Jesus Christ
would have us consider all her actions as evi
dences of love, rather than as marks of repent
ance; "she hath loved much." These things
are not incompatible. Though " perfect love
casteth out fear," yet it does not cast out grief,
for the pardon of sin received by an elect soul,
far from diminishing the regret which it feels
for committing it, contributes to augment it.
The more we love God, the greater the pain felt
for offending him. Yea, this love that makes
the happiness of angels, this love that inflames
seraphim, this love that supports the believers
under the most cruel torments, this love is the
greatest punishment of a penitent. To have
offended the God we love, a God rendered
amiable by infinite perfections, a God so ten
der, so compassionate as to pardon the very sins
we lament; this love excites in a soul such
emotions of repentance as we should labour in
vain to express, unless your hearts, in concert
with our mouths, feel in proportion as we de
scribe.

Courage is the fourth character of the re
pentance, or, if you will, the love of this wo
man. She does not say, What will they say of
me? Ah, my brethren, how often has this sin
gle consideration, What will they say of me?
been an obstacle to repentance! How many
penitents have been discouraged, if not pre
vented by it! To say all in one word, how
many souls has it plunged into perdition! Per
sons affected by this, though urged by their
consciences to renounce the world and its plea
sures, have not been able to get over a fear of
the opinions of mankind concerning their con
version. Is any one persuaded of the necessity
of living retired? This consideration, What
will be said of me? terrifies him. It will be said,
that I choose to be singular, that I affect to
distinguish myself from other men, that I am
an enemy to social pleasure. Does any one
desire to be exact in the performance of Divine
worship? This one consideration, What loill
they say of me? terrifies. They will say, I af
fect to set myself off for a religious and pious
person, I want to impose on the church by a
specious outside; they will say, I am a weak
man, full of fancies and phantoms. Our peni
tent breaks through every worldly considera
tion. " She goes," says a modern author,
" into a strange house, without being invited,
to disturb the pleasures of a festival, by an ill-

THE REPENTANCE OF

. LVIII,

timed sorrow, to cast herself at the feet of the
Saviour, without fearing what would he said,
either of her past life, or of her present bold
ness, to make by this extraordinary action a
kind of public confession of her dissoluteness,
and to suffer for the first punishment of her
sins, and for a proof of her conversion, such
insults as the pride of the Pharisees, and her
own ruined reputation would certainly draw
upon her."* We have seen the behaviour of the
penitent; now let us observe the judgment of
the Pharisee. " If this man were a prophet, he
would have known who, and what manner of
woman this is that toucheth him, for she is a
woman of bad fame."

II. The evangelist expressly tells us, that the
Pharisee who thus judged, was the person at
whose table Jesus Christ was eating. Whether
he were a disciple of Jesus Christ, as is very
probable, and as his calling Christ Master seems
to import, or whether he had invited him for
other reasons, are questions of little import
ance, and we will not now examine them. It
is certain, our Saviour did often eat with some
Pharisees, who far from being his disciples,
were the most implacable enemies of his per
son and doctrine. If this man were a disciple
of Jesus Christ, it should seem very strange
that he should doubt the divinity of the mission
of Christ, and inwardly refuse him even the
quality of a prophet. This Pharisee was
named Simon; however, nothing obliges us
either to confound Simon the Pharisee with
Simon the leper, mentioned in Matthew, and
to whose house Jesus Christ retired, or the his
tory of our text with that related in the last
mentioned place, for the circumstances are
very different, as it would be easy to prove,
had we not subjects more important to propose
to you. Whosoever this Pharisee might be,
he said within himself, " This man, if he were
a prophet, would have known who, and what
manner of woman this is that toucheth him;
for she is a sinner." There are four defects in
this judgment — a criminal indolence — an ex
travagant rashness — an intolerable pride — an
anti- Christian cruelty. As we cannot help
condemning the opinion of the Pharisee for
these four defects, so we cannot avoid censur
ing most of the judgments, that people form
on the conduct of their neighbours for the same

Jl criminal indolence. That disposition of
mind, I allow, is very censurable, which in
spires a perpetual attention to the actions of
our neighbours, and the motive of it is suffi
cient to make us abhor the practice. We have
reason to think, that the more people pry into
the conduct of their neighbours, the more they
intend to gratify the barbarous pleasure of de
faming them: but there is a disposition far
more censurable still, and that is to be always
ready to form a rigorous judgment, on the
least appearances of impropriety, and without
taking pains to inquire, whether there be no
circumstances that diminish the guilt of an ac
tion apparently wrong, nothing that renders it
deserving of patience or pity. It does not be
long to us to set ourselves up for judges of the
actions of our brethren, to become inquisitors

* Flechier, panegyrique de la Magdeleine.

in regard to their manners, and to distribute
punishments of sin and rewards of virtue. At
least, when we usurp this right, let us not ag
gravate our conduct by the manner in which
we exercise the bold imperious usurpation.
Let us not pronounce like bold iniquitous
judges on the actions of those sinners, to whom
nature, society, and religion, ought to unite us
in an affectionate manner. Let us procure ex
act informations of the causes of such crimi
nals as we summon before our tribunals, and
let us not deliver our sentences till we have
weighed in a just balance whatever tends to
condemn, or to absolve them. This would
bridle our malignity. We should be constrain
ed to suspend for a long time our avidity to so
licit, and to hasten the death of a sinner. The
pleasure of declaring him guilty would be
counterbalanced by the pain of trying the
cause. Did this Pharisee give himself time to
examine the whole conduct of the sinner, as
he called her? Did he enter into all the discus
sions necessary to determine whether she were
a penitent sinner, or an obstinate sinner: whe
ther she were reformed, or hardened like a re
probate in the practice of sin? No, certainly
At the sight of the woman he recollects only
the crimes of which she had been guilty; he
did not see her, and he did not choose to see
her in any other point of light; he pronounced
her character rashly, and he wanted Jesus
Christ to be as rash as himself; this is a woman
of bad fame. Do you not perceive, my breth
ren, what wicked indolence animated this ini
quitous judge, and perverted his judgment?

The Pharisee sinned by rashness. See how
he judged of the conduct of Christ, in regard
to the woman, and of what the woman ought
to expect of Jesus Christ, on supposition his
mission had been divine, " this man, if he were
a prophet, would have known who and what
manner of woman this is that touched him,
for she is a sinner." This opinion supposes,
that a prophet ought not in any case to have
patience with a woman of this sort. As if it
were impossible for a prophet to have any de
sign impenetrable to the eye of a Pharisee!
As if any one had a right to censure the con
duct of a man under the direction of the infi
nite Spirit! But it is because this man is a
prophet, it is because he is more than a pro
phet, it is because he is the spring, the ocean,
from which all the prophets derived the super
natural knowledge of the greatest mysteries of
revelation, of predicting events the least likely
to come to pass, of seeing into the most distant
and impenetrable futurity; it is because of
this, that he is capable of forming a just notion
of the character of a sinner, and the nature of
a sin. Yes, none but God can form such a
judgment. " Who art thou, that judgest ano
ther?" Rom. xiv. 4. Such a judgment de
pends on so many difficult combinations, that
none but an infinite intelligence is capable of
making it with exactness.

In order to judge properly of a crime, and a
criminal, we must examine the power of the
temptations to which he was exposed, the op
portunities given him to avoid it, the force of
his natural constitution, the motives that ani
mated him, the resistance he made, the vir
tues he practised, the talents God gave him,

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

47

the education he had, what knowledge he had
acquired, what conflicts he endured, what re
morse he has felt. An exact comparison ought
to be made of his sins with his virtues, in or
der to determine whether sin prevails over
virtue, or whether virtue prevails over sin,
and on this confronting of evidence, a proper
idea of the sinner in question must be formed.
It must be examined whether he were seduced
by ignorance, or whether he were allured by
example, or whether he yielded through weak
ness, whether dissipation or obstinacy, malice,
or contempt of God and h.js law, confirmed
him in sin. On the examination of all these
articles depends the truth of the judgment,
which we form of a fellow creature. There
needs nothing but one circumstance, nothing
but one degree of more or less in a moral ac
tion to change the nature of it, to render it
pardonable or irremissible, deserving compas
sion or horror. Now who is he, who is the
man, that is equal to this combination? Ac
cordingly, nothing more directly violates the
laws of benevolence and justice than some de
cisive opinions, which we think proper to give
on the characters of our neighbours. It is in
deed the office of judges to punish such crimes
as disturb the peace of society; and each in
dividual may say to his brethren, this is the
path of virtue, that is the road of vice. We
have authority indeed to inform them that
" the unrighteous," that is " adulterers, idola
ters, and fornicators shall not inherit the king
dom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. Indeed we
ought to apprise them of danger, and to make
them tremble at the sight of the bottomless
pit, towards which they are advancing at a
great pace: but to make such a combination
as we have described, and to pronounce such
and such people reprobates is rashness, it is
to assume all the authority of the sovereign
judge.

There is in the opinion of the Pharisee a
selfish pride. What is it then that makes this
woman deserve his indignation? At what tri
bunal will she be found more odious than other
sinners who insolently lift their heads both in
the world and the church? It is at the tribu
nal of pride. Thou superb Pharisee! Open
thine eyes, see, look, examine, there is within
the walls, where thy feast is prepared, there is
even at thy table a much greater sinner, than
this woman, and that sinner is thyself! The
sin, of which thou art guilty, and which is
more abominable than unchastity, more abo
minable than adultery, more abominable than
prostitution itself, is pride, and above all Pha
risaical pride. The sin of pride is always
hateful in the eyes of God, whether it be pride
of honour, pride of fortune, or pride of power;
but pride arising from an opinion of our own
righteousness, is a direct crime against the di
vine Majesty. On what principles, good God!
is such a pride founded! What insolence has
he, who is animated with it when he presents
himself before God? He appears without fear
or dread before that terrible throne, in the
presence of which seraphim cover their faces,
and the heavens themselves are unclean. He
ventures to say to himself, I have done all my
as much respect for Al-

duty. I have had

mighty God as he deserves.

I have had as

much zeal and ardour in prayer as the exercise
requires. I have so restrained my tongue as
to have no word, so directed my mind as to
have no thought, so kept my heart as to have
no criminal emotion to reproach myself with;
or if I have had at any time any frailty, I have
so fully made amends for it by my virtue, that
I have sufficiently satisfied all the just demands
of God. I ask no favour, I want/nothing but
justice. Let the Judge of the world call me
before him. Let devouring fire, and eternal
flames glitter in my presence. Let the tribu
nal of retribution be prepared before me.
My arm shall save me, and a recollection of
my own righteousness shall support me in be
holding all these objects. You sufficiently
perceive, my brethren, what makes this dispo
sition so hateful, and we need not enlarge on
the subject. Humility is the supplement of
the virtues of the greatest saints. What ap
plication soever we have made to our duty, we
have always fallen short of our obligations.
We owe so much homage to God as to ac
knowledge, that we cannot stand before him,
unless we be objects of his mercy; and a crime
humbly acknowledged is more tolerable in his
eyes, than a virtue set forth with pride and
parade.

What above all poisons the judgment of the
Pharisee, is that spirit of cruelty which we
have observed. He was content, though all
the tears of true repentance shed by this wo
man were shed in vain, and wished, when the
woman had recourse to mercy, that God would
have assumed in that very instant a shocking
character, that is, that he would have " despis
ed the sacrifice of a broken and a contrite
heart," Ps. li. 17. It is delightful, my bre
thren, to combat such a fatal pretence. There
is a high satisfaction in filling one's mind with
just and elevated ideas of divine mercy. All
we say against the barbarity of the Pharisee
will serve to strengthen our faith, when Satan
endeavours to drive us to despair, as he en
deavoured once to destroy us by security:
when he magnifies the sins we have commit
ted, as he diminished them, when he tempted
us to commit them.

The mercy of God is not an abstract attribute,
discovered with great difficulty through shades
and darkness by our weak reason: but it is an
attribute issuing from that among his other
perfections, of which he has given the most
clear and sensible proofs, I mean his goodness.
All things preach to us, that God is good.
There is no star in the firmament, no wave of
the ocean, no production of the earth, no plant
in our gardens, no period in our duration, no
gifts of his favour, I had almost said no strokes
of his anger, which do not contribute to prove
this proposition, God is good.

Jin idea of the mercy of God is not particu
lar to some places, to any age, nation, religion,
or sect. Although the empire of truth does
not depend on the number of those that submit
to it, there is always some ground to suspect
we are deceived, when we are singular in our
opinions, and the whole world contradict us:
but here the sentiments of all mankind to a
certain point agree with ours. All have ac
knowledged themselves guilty, and all have
professed to worship a merciful God. Though

48

THE REPENTANCE OF

LVIII.

mankind have entertained different sentiments
on the nature of true repentance, yet all have
acknowledged the prerogatives of it.

The idea of the mercy of God is not founded
merely on human speculations, subject to er
ror: but it is founded on clear revelation; and
revelation preaches this mercy far morfe em
phatically than reason. These decisions are
not such as are expressed in a vague and ob
scure manner, so as to leave room for doubt
and uncertainty, but they are clear, intelligi
ble, and reiterated.

The • decisions of revelation concerning the
mercy of God do not leave us to consider it as
a doctrine incongruous with the whole of reli
gion, or unconnected with any particular doc
trine taught as a part of it: but they establish
it as a capital doctrine, and on which the whole
system of religion turns. What is our reli
gion? It is a dispensation of mercy. It is a
supplement to human frailty. It is a refuge
for penitent sinners from the pursuits of divine
justice. It is a covenant, in which we engage

and God condescends to accept our imperfect
services, and to pardon our sins, how enormous
soever they have been, on our genuine repent
ance. The promises of mercy made to us in
religion are not restrained to sinners of a par
ticular order, nor to sin of a particular kind;
but they regard all sinners and all sins of every
possible kind. There is no crime so odious, no
circumstance so aggravating, no life so obsti
nately spent in sin, as not to be pitiable and
pardonable, when the sinner affectionately and
sincerely returns to God. If perseverance in
evil, if the sin against the Holy Ghost exclude
people from mercy, it is because they render
repentance impracticable, not because they
render it ineffectual.

The doctrine of divine mercy is not founded
on promises to be accomplished at some re
mote and distant period; but experience has
justified these promises. Witness the people
of Israel, witness Moses, David, Ahab, Heze-
kiah, witness Manasseh, Nineveh, Nebuchad
nezzar. What has not repentance done? By
repentance the people of Israel suspended the
judgments of God, when they were ready to
fall on them and crush them. By repentance
Moses " stood in the breach, and turned away
the wrath of God." By repentance David re
covered the joy of his salvation, after he had
committed the crimes of murder and adultery.
By repentance even Ahab obtained a reprieve.
By repentance Hezekiah enlarged the term
of his life fifteen years. By repentance Ma
nasseh saved himself and his people. By re
pentance Nineveh obtained a revocation of the
decree that a prophet had denounced against
it. By repentance Nebuchadnezzar recovered
his understanding and his excellent majesty. It
would be easy to enlarge this list. So many
reflections, so many arguments against the
cruel pretence of the Pharisee.

III. You have seen in our first part the re
pentance of the immodest woman. In the se
cond you have seen the judgment of the Phari
see. Now it remains to consider the judgment
of Jesus Christ concerning them both. " There
was a certain creditor, which had two debtors:
the one owed five hundred pence, and the

other fifty. And when they had nothing to
pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me
therefore, which of them will love him most''
Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to
whom he forgave most. And he said unto him,
thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to
the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou
this woman? I entered into thine house, thou
gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath
washed my feet with tears, and wiped them
with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me
no kiss: but this woman, since the time I came
in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. Mine head
with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman
hath anointed my feet with ointment. Where
fore I say unto thee, her sins which are many
are forgiven: for she loved much: but to whom
little is given, the same loveth little." This is
our third part.

These words have occasioned a famous ques
tion. It has been asked whether the pardon
granted by Jesus Christ to this woman were
an effect of her love to Jesus Christ: or whether
her love to Jesus Christ were an effect of the
pardon she had received from him. The ex
pressions, and the emblems made use of in the
text, seem to countenance both these opinions.

The parable proposed by our Saviour favours
the latter opinion, that is, that the woman's
love to Jesus Christ was an effect of the par
don that she had received. " A certain creditor
had two debtors, when they had nothing to
pay, he frankly forgave the one five hundred
pence, and the other fifty. Which of them
will love him most?" The answer is, " He, I
suppose, to whom he forgave most." Who does
not see, that the love of this debtor is an effect
of the acquittance from the debt? And as this
acquittance here represents the pardon of sin,
who does not see that the love of this woman,
and of all others in her condition, is here stated
as the effect of this pardon? But the applica
tion which Jesus Christ makes of this parable,
seems to favour the opposite opinion, that is,
that the love here spoken of was the cause and
not the effect of pardon. " Seest thou this wo
man?" said Jesus Christ to Simon, "I entered
into thine house, thou gavest me no water for
my feet: but she hath washed my feet with
tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her
head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this wo
man, since the time I came in, hath not ceased
to kiss my feet. Mine head with oil thou didst
not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my
feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto
thee, her sins which are many are forgiven;
for she loved much." Does it not seem, that
the application of this parable proposes the par
don of the sins of this penitent, as being both
the cause and the effect of her love?

This question certainly deserves elucidation,
because it regards words proceeding from the
mouth of Jesus Christ himself, and on that ac
count worthy of being studied with the utmost
care: but is the question as important as some
have pretended? You may find some interpre
ters ready to excommunicate one another on
account of this question, and to accuse their
antagonists of subverting all the foundations of
true religion. There have been times (and
may such times never return) I say, there were
times, in which people thought they distin-

SER. LVIII.]

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

49

guished their zeal by taking as much pains to
envenom controversies, as they ought to have
taken to conciliate them; and when they ought
to serve true religion by aggravating the errors
of opposite religions. On these principles,
such as took the words of the text in the first
sense taxed the other side with subverting the
whole doctrine of free justification; for, said
they, if the pardon here granted to the sinner
be an effect of her love to Jesus Christ, what
become of all the passages of Scripture, which
say, that grace, and grace alone, obtains the
remission of sin? They of the opposite senti
ment accused the others with subverting all
the grounds of morality; for, said they, if this
woman's love to Jesus Christ be only an effect
of pardon, it clearly follows, that she had been
pardoned before she exercised love: but if this
be the case, what become of all the passages of
the gospel, which make loving God a part of
the essence of that faith without which there
is no forgiveness? Do you not see, my breth
ren, in this way of disputing, that unhappy
spirit of party, which defends the truth with
the arms of falsehood; the spirit that has
caused so many ravages in the church, and
which is one of the strongest objections that
the enemy of mankind can oppose against a
reunion of religious sentiments, so much desired
by all good men? What then, may it not be
affirmed in a very sound sense, that we love
God before we obtain the pardon of our sins?
Have we not declaimed against the doctrine of
such divines as have advanced that attrition
alone, that is to say, a fear of hell without any
degree of love to God was sufficient to open
the gates of heaven to a penitent? Recourse
to the Saviour of the world, such a recourse as
makes the essence of faith, ought it to have no
other motive than that of desiring to enjoy the
benefits of his sacrifice? Should it not be ani
mated with love to his perfections? But on the
other hand, may it not also be said, in a sense
most pure, and most evangelically accurate,
that true love to God is an effect of the pardon
we obtain of him? This love is never more
ardent, than when it is kindled at the flame
of that which is testified in our absolution. Is
our zeal for the service of God ever more fer
vent than when it is produced by a felt recon
ciliation to him? Are the praises we sing to
his glory ever more pure, than when they rise
out of such motives as animate glorified saints,
when we can say with them, " unto him that
loved us, and washed us from our sins in his
own blood, be glory, and dominion?" Rev. i.
5. Do different views of this text deserve so
much wormwood and gall?

But what is the opinion of the Saviour of
the world, and what would he answer to the
question proposed? Was the pardon granted
to the sinner the cause of her love, or the effect
of it? Which of the two ideas ought to pre
vail in our minds, that in the parable, or that
in the application of it? The opinion most
generally received in our churches is, that the
love of this woman ought to be considered as
the effect of her pardon, and this appears to us
the most likely, and supported by the best evi
dence: for the reason on which this opinion
is grounded, seems to us unanswerable. There
is neither a critical remark, nor a change of
VOL. II.— 7

version, that can elude the force and evidence
of it: "a creditor had two debtors, he forgave
the one five hundred pence, and the other fiftv,
the fir^t will love him most." Undoubtedly
this love is the effect, and not the cause of the
acquittance of the debt. On the contrary, the
reason on which the second opinion is founded
may be easily answered. It is grounded on.
this expression, " Her sins are forgiven, for she
loved much." The original reading is capable
of another sense. Instead of translating "for
she loved much," the words may be rendered
without any violence to the Greek text, "her
sins are forgiven, and because of that," or " on
account of that she loved much." There are
many examples of the original term being taken
in this sense. We omit quotations and proofs
only to avoid prolixity.

We must then suppose, that the tears now
shed by this woman were not the first, which
she had shed at the remembrance of her sins.
She had already performed several penitential
exercises under a sense of forgiveness, and the
repetition of these exercises proceeded both
from a sense of gratitude for the sentence pro*
nounced in her favour, and from a desire of
receiving a ratification of it. On this account
we have not assigned the fear of punishment
as a cause of the grief of this penitent, as we
ought to have done had we supposed that she
had not already obtained forgiveness. Our
supposition supported by our comment on the
words of the text, in my opinion, throw great
light on the whole passage. The Pharisee is
offended because Jesus Christ suffered a wo
man of bad character to give him so many
tokens of her esteem. Jesus Christ makes at
the same time an apology both for himself
and for the penitent. He tells the Pharisee,
that the great esteem of this woman proceeds
from a sense of the great favours, which she
had received from him: that the Pharisee
thought he had given sufficient proof of his
regard for Jesus Christ by receiving him into
his house, without any extraordinary demon
strations of zeal, without giving him " water
to wash his feet, oil to anoint his head," or
"a kiss" in token of friendship; and that what
prevented him from giving greater marks of
esteem was his considering himself in the con
dition of the first debtor, of whom only a little
gratitude was required, because he had been
released from an obligation to pay only a small
and inconsiderable sum: but that this woman
considered herself in the condition of the other
debtor, who had been forgiven "five hundred
pence;" and that therefore she thought herself
obliged to give her creditor the highest marks
of esteem. " Seest thou this woman? I entered
into thine house, thou gavest me no water for
my feet: but she hath washed my feet with
tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her
head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but she hath
not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil
thou didst not anoint: but she hath anointed
my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto
thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven."
On this account she hath loved much; and haa
given me all these proofs of affection which
are so far superior to those, which I have re
ceived at your table, " for he, to whom little ia
forgiven, loveth little."

50

THE REPENTANCE OF

. LVIII.

At length, Jesus Christ turns himself towards
the penitent, and, affected at her weeping
afresh, repeats his assurances of forgiveness,
and appeases that sorrow, which the remem
brance of her crimes excited in her heart,
though she no longer dreaded punishment.
" Go," says he, " thy sins are forgiven thee. . .
Go in peace."

Ye rigid casuists, who render the path of
life strait, and difficult, ye, whose terrifying
maxims are planted like briars and thorns in
the road of paradise; ye messengers of terror
and vengeance, like the dreadful angels who
with flaming swords kept guilty men from at
tempting to return to the garden of Eden;
ye who denounce only hell and damnation;
come hither and receive instruction. Come
and learn how to preach, and how to write,
and how to speak in your pulpits to your audi
tors, and how to comfort on a dying bed a
man, whose soul hovers on his lips, and is just
departing. See the Saviour of the world; be
hold with what ease and indulgence he receives
this penitent. Scarcely had she begun to weep,
scarcely had she touched the feet of Jesus
'Christ with a little ointment, but he crowned
her repentance, became her apologist, pardoned
'during one moment of repentance the excesses
of a whole life, and condescended to acknow
ledge for a member of " a glorious church, not
having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing,"
'this woman, and what kind of a woman? A
woman guilty perhaps of prostitution, perhaps
of adultery, certainly of impurity and fornica
tion. After this do you violently declaim
against conversion, under pretence that it is
not effected precisely at such time as you think
fit to appoint? Do you yet refuse to publish
pardon and forgiveness to that sinner, who in
deed has spent his whole life in sin, but who a
few moments before he expires puts on all the
appearance of true repentance, covers himself
with sorrow, and dissolves himself in tears,
like the penitent in the text, and assures you
that he embraces with the utmost fervour the
feet of the Redeemer of mankind?

Do I deceive myself, my brethren? I think
I see the audience quicken their attention.
This last reflection seems to suit the taste of
most of my hearers. I think, I perceive some
reaching the right hand of fellowship to me,
and congratulating me for publicly adjuring
this day of gloomy and melancholy morality,
more likely to drive sinners to despair than to
reclaim them.

How, my brethren, have we preached to
you so many years, and you after all so little
acquainted with us as to imagine that we have
proposed this reflection with any other design
than that of showing you the folly of it? Or
rather are you so little acquainted with your
religion, with the spirit of the gospel in gene
ral, and with that of my text in particular, as
to derive consequences diametrically opposite
to the design of the inspired writers? And
where, pray, are these barbarous men? Where
are these messengers of vengeance and terror?
Where are the casuists, whose maxims render
the road to eternal life inaccessible. Who are
the men, who thus excite your anger and in
dignation? What! Is it the man, who has spent
fifty or sixty years in examining the human

heart; the man, who assures you, that, after a
thousand diligent and accurate investigations,
he finds impenetrable depths of deception in the
heart; the man, who, from the difficulty of his
own examinations derives arguments to engage
you not to be satisfied with a superficial know
ledge of your conscience, but to carry the light
of the gospel into the darkest recesses of your
heart; the man, who advises you over and -over
again, that if you content yourselves with a
slight knowledge of yourselves, you must be
subject to ten thousand illusions, that you will
take the semblance of repentance for repentance
itself, that you will think yourselves " rich
and increased with goods," while you are
" wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind,
and naked," Rev. iii. 17. Is this the rigid
casuist, who offends and irritates you?

Perhaps, it is the man, who tells you that,
in order to assure yourselves that you are in a
state of grace, you must love God with an es
teem of preference, which will engage you to
obey him before all his creatures; the man,
who, judging by innumerable evidences that
you prefer " serving the creature more than
the Creator," Rom. i. 25; concludes from this
sad phenomenon that you have reason to
tremble: the man, who advises you to spend
at least one week in recollection and retirement
before you partake of the Lord's Supper; the
man, who would have you purify your hands
from the blood of your brethren, and your
heart burning with hatred and vengeance, and
on that account placed in a catalogue of mur
derers'' hearts, according to the spirit of the
gospel: the man, who forbids you to come to
the Lord's Supper while your wicked courses
are only suspended instead of being reformed,
and while your cruel exactions are only delay
ed instead of being entirely left off? Perhaps
this is the man! Is this the rigid casuist, who
'fiends and irritates you?

Or, probably, it is the man, who has attend
ed you three, four, or half a dozen times in fits
of sickness, who then saw you covered with
tears, every time acknowledging your sins, and
always calling heaven and earth to witness
your sincere intention to reform, and to change
your conduct, but who has always seen you
mmediately on your recovery return to your
former course of life, as if you had never shed
a tear, never put up a prayer, never made a
resolution, never appealed to heaven to attest
four sincerity: the man, who concludes from
such sad events as these that the resolutions of
sick and dying people ought always to be con
sidered as extremely suspicious; the man, who
tells you that during all his long and constant
attendance on the sick he has seldom seen one
converted on a sick-bed, (for our parts, my
rethren, we are mournful guarantees of this
awful fact,) the man alarmed at these frightful
examples, and slow to publish the grace of God
to dying people of a certain class; I say, pro-
ably, this is the man, who offends you! Is not
this the cruel casuist, who provokes you?

What! Is it the man, who sees the sentence
)f death written in your face, and your house
f clay just going to sink, to whom you appear
more like a skeleton than a living body, and
who fears every morning lest some messenger
should inform him that you was found dead in

SER.

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

51

your bed, who fears all this from your own
complaints? What am I saying? From you
own complexion, from the alarms of you
friends, and from the terrors of your own fa
milys the man, who is shocked to see that al
this makes no impression upon you, but thai
you live a life of dissipation and security, which
would be unpardonable in a man, whose firm
health might seem to promise him a long life
the man, who cries to you, " awake thou thai
sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ
shall give thee light," Eph. i. 11; improve th
remainder of life, the breath, which, though it
leaves thee to totter, prevents thy falling down
dead. Is this the man, the rigid casuist who
offends and irritates you? Such maxims, such
discourses, such books, such sermons, are they
systems of morality, which confound you, and
drive you to despair?

After all, where are the sinners whom these
casuists have driven to despair? Where are
those tormented and distracted consciences?
For my part, I see nothing, turn my eyes which
way I will, but a deep sleep. I see nothing
but security, lethargy, insensibility. How is
it possible that the history of our text, that the
language of Jesus Christ, " Woman, thy faith

hath saved thee,

that the voice

j go m peace

of eternal truth should incline you to raise
objections full of error and illusion? Is there
no difference between your case and that of
this penitent woman, none between Jesus Christ
and your casuists? Is there any thing in which
they agree? The casuist conversing with this
penitent was a prophet, a prophet! he was a
God, who "searched the reins and the hearts,"
who saw the bottom of her soul, and who
penetrated through all the veils, with which a
frail human heart is covered, and beheld the
truth of her conversion and the genuineness of
her grief: but you, my brethren, you have no
such casuists, and we can judge only by exter
nal performances, which ascertain your state
Only on condition that they proceed from your
heart. Our penitent lay prostrate at the feet
of the Lord of religion, who could save her,
if he pleased, by extraordinary means, and who
could deliver her from death and hell by a
singular effort of power, not to be repeated:
but your casuists are servants, who act by com
mission, under express directions and orders,
and who have no right to announce peace till
you answer the description given in the royal
instrument. Such ministers, whatever assu
rances of grace and pardon they affect to give,
ought never to cairn your consciences till you
have exactly conformed to the orders of their
and your sovereign master. Our penitent came
to ask pardon in a free and voluntary manner,
while she was in perfect health, all her actions
were unconstrained and spontaneous; but you
wait till death hales you to the tribunal of God,
you loiter till the fear of eternal flames fright
you away from such pleasures as you continue
to love, and to which you would most likely
return again, did not God spare you the shame
by not giving you an opportunity. The peni
tent of our text did all she could in her circum
stances to express the truth of her repentance,
there was no sacrifice so dear that she did not
offer, no victim so valuable that she did not
stab, if I may use such an expression, with the

knife of repentance, no passion so inveterate
that she did not eradicate, no marks of love
for her Saviour so tender that she did not with
all liberality express. Behold her eyes flowing
with tears over the feet of Jesus Christ, behold
her hair dishevelled, her perfumes poured out,
behold all the character of sincerity, which we
have observed in our first paper. Is there any
one mark of a true conversion which she does
bear? But you, how many reserves, how many
artifices have yoa? How many actions of your
lives, which we must not be allowed to state
to you in their true point of light? How many
tempers in your hearts, which must not yet be
touched? Here, it is an enemy, the bare sound
of whose name would increase your fever, and
hasten your death. There, it is an iniquitous
acquisition, which you reserve for your son to
enable him to take your name with greater
honour, and to support with more dignity that
vain parade, or rather that dust and smoke in
which you have all your life involved yourself.
Our penitent never deceived Jesus Christ: but
you, you have deceived your casuist a thousand
and a thousand times. Our penitent wept over
the odious parts of her life, and, far from being
too proud to confess her sins, gloried in her
confession while she blushed for her crimes:
but your eyes, on the contrary, your eyes are
yet dry, and it is Jesus Christ, who is weeping
at your feet, it is he who is shedding tears over
you, as formerly over Jerusalem, it is he who
is saying, O that " thou hadst known, even
thou, at least in this thy day, the things which
Belong unto thy peace! O that my people
tiad hearkened unto me, and Israel had walked
n my ways!" Luke xix. 42; Ps. Ixxxi. 13. It
is not then to you, but it is to your kind of re-
jentance, that sentences of absolution ought to
>e refused. The repentance of the unchaste
woman was exactly conformable to the cove
nant of grace, to the genius of the gospel, and
o the end of the mission of Jesus Christ. Hence
rom the mouth of the Saviour of the world
•roceeded, in spite of her former libertinism, in
pite of the cruel censure of the Pharisee, and
n spite of the murmuring of the guests, these
comfortable words, " Woman, thy sins are for
given thee. Woman, thy faith hath saved thee.
JJo, depart in peace."

Here, my brethren, the evangelist finishes
he history of the penitent woman! and here
we will finish this discourse. There is, how-
iver, one circumstance, which St. Luke has
unitted, and which, if I may venture to say
o, I wish he had recorded in the most severe
and circumstantial manner. What were the
uture sentiments of this woman after the cou-
ageous steps she had taken at her setting out?
What emotions did absolution produce in her
oul? What effects in her conscience did this
anguage of the Saviour of the world cause,
' Woman, thy sins are forgiven — thy faith hath
aved thee — go in peace?" But there is nothing
n this silence that ought to surprise us. Her
oy was not a circumstance that came under
lie notice of the historian. In the heart of
his frail woman, converted and reconciled to
God, lay this mystery concealed. There was
bat " peace of God, which passeth all under-
tanding. that joy unspeakable and full of glory,
hat white stone, and that new name, which

52

THE VANITY OF ATTEMPTING

[SER. LIX.

no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it."
May you receive it, my brethren, that you
may know it! May the grief of a Jjvely and
bitter repentance wound your hearts, that
mercy may heal and comfort them, and fill
them with pleasure and joy! God grant us
this grace! To him be honour and glory for
ever. Amen.

SERMON LIX.

THE VANITY OF ATTEMPTING TO
OPPOSE GOD.

PROVERBS xxi. 30.
There is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor

counsel against the Lord.
How mean and despicable soever the human
heart since the fall may be, there are always
found in it some principles of grandeur and
elevation. Like such superb edifices as time
has demolished, it discovers even in its ruins
some vestiges of its primitive splendour. What
ever presents itself to man under the idea of
great and noble, strikes and dazzles him:
whatever presents itself to him under the idea
of low and servile, shocks and disgusts him.
Accordingly one of the most formidable me
thods of attacking religion is to exhibit it as a
contrivance fit for narrow geniuses and mean
souls. One of the most proper means to esta
blish irreligion is to represent it as suited to
great and generous minds. To rise above
vulgar ideas, to shake off the yoke of con
science, to derive felicity and glory from self,
to make fortune, victory, Providence, and deity
itself yield to human will, these are pretensions,
which have, I know not what in them, to flat
ter that foolish pride, which an erroneous mind
confounds with true magnanimity. We propose
to-day, my brethren, to combat these danger
ous prejudices, to dissipate all such appearances
of grandeur and elevation, and to make you
feel the extravagance of all those, who have
the audacity to attempt to oppose Almighty
God. The Wise Man calls us to this medita
tion in the words of the text. " There is no
wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel against
the Lord."

Perhaps you will accuse us (and we will en
ter on the subject by examining this objection,)
perhaps you will accuse us of creating phan
toms to combat. Perhaps you will defy us to
find among the different classes of idiots,
whom society cherishes in its bosom, any one
who has carried his extravagance so far as to
presume to oppose God, or to pretend to con
strain him by superior knowledge or power

My brethren, one of the most difficult sub
jects in the study of the human heart is, when
a man leads a certain course of life, to deter
mine whether he has adopted the extravagant
principles on which his conduct is founded
and without which his conduct is the most pal
pable folly. Take which side we will, whether
that he acts on principles, or without them, the
case will appear extremely difficult. On the
one hand, we can hardly persuade ourpelves
that an intelligent creature, who is capable of

governing a state, regulating a large and ex
tensive commerce, and of arranging a variety
of systems, should entertain notions seemingly
incompatible with the very least degree of in
telligence. On the other hand, we know not
how to comprehend, that a course of action,
which is the natural effect of such notions, can
subsist without them.

Follow us a moment, my brethren, into
hese labyrinths of the human heart, or rather
et us endeavour to know ourselves, and to re
concile ourselves to ourselves, and let each of
us put a few questions to himself.

I, who have some idea of the perfections of

od, and who cannot doubt whether he knows
the most secret thoughts of my heart, can I
>romise myself to impose on him in his temple
»y a painted outside, by a grave deportment,
and by a mournful countenance, while my un
derstanding and my affections take no part in
•eligious exercises, while my ideas are con-
used, and while my passions promise me an
mmediate indemnity for the violence I have
'fFered them during the few moments of this
seeming devotion? But, if I have not this
bought, how is it then that I think to obtain
he favour of God by exercises of this kind?

I, who was educated in the Christian church,
can I imagine that God has less dominion over
me when the air is calm, the heavens serene,
and the earth firm under my feet, than when
the clouds are thick and black, the thunder
rolls in the air, the lightning flashes, and the
earth seems to open under my feet? But, if I
lave not adopted this opinion, how comes it to
pass that I commit the greatest crimes without
remorse in the first period, and in the second
reproach myself for the most pardonable of all
my frailties?

I, who am surrounded with the dying and
the dead; I, who feel myself dying every day:
I, who carry death in my face, who feel it in
my veins, who, when I lay on a sick bed a few
months ago, and thought myself come to the
last moment of life, felt the most violent re
morse; I, who would have then given the
whole world, had the whole world been at my
disposal, to have been delivered from sin, can
I persuade myself that I shall live here always?
Can I even persuade myself that I shall live
much longer? Or if I could, that when death
shall present itself to me, I shall be exempt
from remorse, and that the crimes, which now
make the pleasure of my life, will not be the
poison of my dying bed? But, if I be incapa
ble of adopting opinions so opposite to what I
know by feeling and experience, what am I do
ing? How is it possible for me to live as if I
thought myself immortal, as if I had made a
covenant with death and were at agreement with
the grave, as if I had stifled for ever the feel
ings of my conscience, as if I were sure of dic
tating myself the decree of divine justice con
cerning my own eternal state?

And, not to multiply examples, of which
the extravagance of the human mind would
furnish a great number, I, whose views are so
short, whose knowledge is so confined, whose
faculties are so frail, and whose power is so
limited, can I promise myself success in op
posing the designs of that God, who says in
his word, " My counsel shall stand, and I will

SER. LIX.]

TO OPPOSE GOD.

53

do all my pleasure?" Isa. xlvi. 10. Can I pro
mise myself to subdue a God " great in coun
sel, and mighty in work," Jer. xxxii. 19, and
to constrain him by superior power? But, if I
have not adopted such extravagant thoughts,
what mean the obstacles which I oppose against
his will? What signify my plans of felicity,
which are diametrically opposite to those which
he has traced for me in his word? Why do I
not direct all my intentions and actions to in
corporate in my interest him, whose will is pro
ductive and efficient5 Why do I not found my
system of living on this principle of the Wise
Man, " There is no wisdom, nor understand
ing, nor counsel against the Lord."

My brethren, explain to us these enigmas,
discover yourselves to yourselves, and recon
cile yourselves with yourselves. O miserable
man! What kind of madness animates thee?
Is it that of having conceived these extrava
gant thoughts, which are alone capable of var
nishing over thy conduct? Or is it that of act
ing without thought, which is a sort of raving
madness, for even erroneous opinions might
seem to thee to apologize for thine actions? O
" heart of man, deceitful above all things, and
desperately wicked, who can know thee!" Jer.
xvii. 9.

However, the knowledge of this heart so
difficult to be known, is not entirely unattain
able, it is even essential to our happiness.
How should we correct ourselves without
knowing ourselves? How should we acquire
real wisdom without knowing precisely what
our folly is, and by what means to get rid of it?

It should seem we ought to search for a so
lution of these difficulties in the artifices of our
own passions. The passions not only disguise
exterior objects, but they disguise even our
own thoughts, they persuade us that we do not
think what we do think, and in this manner
they confirm us in the most extravagant no
tions, the absurdity of which we could not
help seeing were we dispassionate and cool.
The work therefore to which we ought most
seriously to apply ourselves, is to take off such
coverings as our passions throw over our opin
ions, and which prevent our seeing that we
think as we do; to this important work I shall
address myself in the remaining part of this
discourse.

A modern philosopher has founded on this
principle the whole of his system on the dif
ference between right and wrong. He says,
justice consists in affirming that a thing is what
it is, and injustice in denying it. He explains
this thought by another, that is, that we affirm
and deny not only by words, but also by ac
tions, and that the second manner of affirming
or denying is more express and decisive than
the first. I will not examine whether this phi
losopher has not carried his principles too far:
but I am going to prove by the actions of men
that they pretend to oppose God, and that they
set four obstacles against his will, their gran
deur, their policy, their pleasures, and their
stoical obstinacy. I am going to prove at the
same time to worldly politicians and grandees,
to voluptuous and stoical people, that to un
dertake to resist God is the height of extrava
gance. " There is no wisdom nor understand
ing, nor counsel against the Lord."

I. We will consider our text in regard to
worldly grandeur. We sometimes see those,
who are called grandees in the world, resist
God, pretend to compel him by superior force,
or by greater knowledge. And whom do we
intend to characterize? Is it a Pharaoh, who
boldly demands, " Who is the Lord, that I
should obey his voice?" Is it a Sennacherib,
who uttered this insolent language, " Beware
lest Hezekiah persuade you, saying, the Lord
will deliver us. Hath any of the gods of the
nations delivered his land out of the hand of
the king of Assyria? Where are the gods of
Hamath and Arphad? Where are the gods of
Sepharvaim? Who are they amongst all the
gods of those lands, that have delivered their
land out of my hand, that the Lord should de
liver Jerusalem out of my hand?" Is it a Ne
buchadnezzar, to whom the prophet puts this
mortifying question, "How art thou fallen
from heaven, thou day star, thou son of the
morning? Thou who didst weaken the nations,
hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into hea
ven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of
God, I will sit also upon the mount of the
congregation in the sides of the north, I will
be like the Most High," Isa. xxxvi. IS. 20.
and chap. xiv. 12 — 14.

Is it a Nero, who could hear without trem
bling those blasphemous eulogies, " If the fates
had no other methods of placing Nero on the
throne than those civil wars, which deluged
Rome with blood, ye gods, we are content; the
most atrocious crimes, the most sanguinary ex
ecutions are agreeable at this price. Lift up
your eyes, Cesar, and choose your place among
the immortal gods, take the thunder of Jupi
ter, and succeed the father of gods and rnen.
Mount the chariot of the sun, and give the
world light, all the gods will count it felicity
and glory to submit to thy laws, and to give
up their place and their power to thee."

But nature produces few such monsters.
Our age has too much knowledge, and our
manners are too refined to suffer such plain
and open declarations. Yet how often is gran
deur even now in our times a patent for inso
lence against God! What, for example, is that
perpetual parade of the great, and that vain
ostentation, with which they dazzle the eyes
of their dependants, and of which they avail
themselves to rob God of the hearts of men?
What is that haughty confidence, which they
place in their forces, after they have guarded
their cities, built forts, and filled their treasu
ries, they live in security, even though they
have provoked God by acts of the most crying
injustice, by the most barbarous executions,
and by the most execrable blasphemies!
Whence that immoderate avidity of praise,
which makes them nourish themselves with
the incense of a vile flatterer, and live on the
titles of immortals, invincibles, arbiters of
peace and war? Whence that contempt of re
ligion, and that spirit of impiety and profane-
ness, which usually reigns in the hearts of
princes? WThence that dominion which some
of them exercise over conscience, and those
laws, which they dare to give mankind to serve
God against their own convictions, to form
ideas of him, which they think injurious to his
majesty, to perform a worship, which they

54

THE VANITY OF ATTEMPTING

[Sin. LIX,

think contrary to his express commands, and
to profess a religion directly opposite to what
they themselves believe to be the true religion
of Jesus Christ? Whence are all these disposi
tions, and what are all these actions? My bre
thren, open the folds of the human heart, take
off the coverings under which the turpitude is
concealed, penetrate into the principles of
men's actions, and you will find that to oppose
God, to pretend to control him by a superior
power is not a disposition of mind so rare as
you might at first sight have imagined. You
see the great worldling makes his opulence,
his titles, his grandeur, his navy, his army, a
force to set against Almighty God. But what
is such a man? An idiot. What are his titles
and grandeurs, his navies and armies, and all
his opulence? What is all this? A little chaff,
a little dust, a nothing in the presence of the
omnipotent God.

I recollect here a piece of instruction which
a king one day gave his courtiers. They were
calling him Lord of earth and sea. The mo
narch put on his robes, and caused himself to
be carried to the sea-shore. There he sat on
the beach, and said to the waves, " The land
on which I sit is mine, and you, sea, you are
under my dominion, I command you to respect
your king, and to come no farther.'1 The
waves, deaf to his voice, came rolling forward,
the first wetted his feet, the second seemed to
threaten to carry him away. " There," said
the king to his courtiers, " see what a lord I
am of earth and sea." Great lesson to all
worldly potentates! Insignificant man, put on
thy crown, dazzle thyself first with the glitter
of it, and then try to beguile the eyes of
others, deck thyself in thy royal robes, try thy
strength, show us the extent of thy power, say
to winds and waves, to fortune, and sickness,
and death, I command you to stop, and to re
spect your king.

O think of the glorious attributes, the sub
lime ideas, the deep counsels, and the abun
dant-power of that God whom thou opposest.
"He stretched out the north over the empty
place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing.
He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds.
The pillars of heaven tremble, and are asto
nished at his reproof. He divideth the sea
with his power, and by his understanding he
smiteth through the proud. He meteth out
heaven with a span, and comprehendeth the
dust of the earth in a measure. He weigheth
the mountains in scales, and the hills in a ba
lance. He sitteth upon the circle of the earth,
and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers.
Behold all nations are as the drop of a bucket,
and are counted as the small dust of the ba
lance. All things before him are as nothing,
and they are counted to him less than nothing,
and vanity. He bringeth princes to nothing,
he maketh the judges of the earth as vanity,"
Job xxvi. 7, 8. 11, 12; and Isa. xl. 12. 22.
15. 17. 23.

Think of thy soul, thou wilt find nothing
there but infirmity and ignorance. Thou art
confined as a man, and more confined still as a
great man, for grandeur usually contracts the
limits of knowledge and improvement.

Think of the author of those advantages ,
which swell thee with pride. Thou art indebted I

for them to that very Being whom thou pre-
tendest to resist. It is his breath that animates
thee, his arm upholds thee, his earth supports
thee, his food nourishes thee, and it his air
which thou borrowest to breathe.

Think what mortal blows of just vengeance
God has given to some insolent creatures, who
presumptuously oppose his majesty. So pe
rished Antiochus, who, in the language of the
book of Maccabees, a " little afore thought he
might command the waves of the sea, and
weigh the high mountains in a balance, was
now cast on the ground, so that the worms
rose up out of his body, his flesh fell away,
and the filthiness of his smell was noisome to
all his army," 2 Mac. ix. 8 — 10. So perished
Herod: " His bowels were consumed with an
inward fire. His entrails were full of ulcers.
The stench of his breath infected his room, and
drove away all his family." So perished Max-
iminus, of whom Lactantius gives this fright
ful account: " The wound gained his vitals,
there vermin engendered, the palace and the
city were infected, his body putrefied, the more
his sores were cleansed, the more innumerable
were the swarms of vermin that proceeded
from them, of which his entrails were an in
exhaustible source."*

Think of thine end. Look through the de
ceitful splendour that covers thee. See the
weakness of thine organs, behold thy hands
already shaking, thy knees already trembling,
thy head, all crowned and glittering as it is,
bending towards that earth from which it was
taken, and to which it will presently return.
Imagine thyself dying, cold, pale, groaning,
and vainly calling to thine assistance thy cour
tiers, thy sceptre, and thy crown. Is this the
immortal man? This the arm that ruled the
fate of whole nations? Is this the potentate,
whose looks made the world tremble? Oh!
how eloquent is humility, my brethren, to him
who is willing to hear it! Oh! how sufficient in
motives is the school of humility to him who
is willing to be taught there! How, how can a
creature so mean, so vile, so limited, so frail,
so momentary as man, how can he possibly op
pose Almighty God? How can he resist his
power? " Wilt thou yet say before him that
Siuyeth thee, I am God? But thou shalt be a
man and no god in the hand of him that slay-
eth thee," Ezek. xxvtii. 9.

II. Worldly policy is a second obstacle, which
some men set against the laws of heaven, and
by which they discover a disposition to resist
God, and to compel him by superior force.
Had the man, of whom I speak, other ideas, he
would lay down as first principles and grounds
of action — that the wisest maxims of state are
those of religion — that the best we can do for
society is to render God propitious — and that
the happiest people are they " whose God is
the Lord." When councils were held to deli
berate on peace or war, such a man would do
from religious principle what was anciently
done at Rome from the mere dictates of natu
ral justice. It would be examined not only
whether it would be advantageous to make
war in the present conjuncture, but whether it
were just; whether it proceeded from an insa-

Lactant. libro de mortib. persecutor. C. xxxuu

SER. LIX.]

TO OPPOSE GOD.

55

liable desire of dominion and wealth, or from
the right, which all mankind have to guard
and defend themselves. When the question
was, Whether any one should be invested with
magisterial authority, such a man would ex
amine with as much care the religious princi
ples as the political virtues of the candidate
for power; he would not consider whether
he were able to practise crimes of state, which
have been long successful, but whether he in
violably respected the laws of religion, the ex
ercise of which sooner or later must neces
sarily crown its adherents with prosperity and
victory. Never would he assist in placing at
the head of a political body a blasphemer or
an atheist.

But when we see men pursue a conduct di
rectly opposite to this, when we see men always
forget that they are Christians, when they de
liberate on the public good, and lay aside, if I
may be allowed to speak so, faith, conscience,
and the gospel, at the door of the council
room; when we see a certain disdainful air, a
look of affected pity put on at the proposals
of such as wish to direct the public good by the
principles of religion; when we see people of
this character pretend by their prudence to
avert public calamities; have we not a right to
say of such men, that they resist God, and
pretend to compel him with superior power?

But what are such men? Idiots. With
your pernicious maxims you banish religion and
piety, and by so doing deprive yourselves of all
the advantages which you might have derived
from the inclinations of a people well disposed to
be religious and good. Should the people live
by the rules of religion, they would pay taxes
with fidelity, obey their governors with respect,
generously prefer the public good before private
interest, and so establish such a correspondence
between subject and sovereign as can alone
render states prosperous and happy: but while
they see that their masters wander out of this
right road, they act towards you as you do to
wards God, they employ their power to resist
your authority, and their knowledge and ad
dress to elude your laws.

With these pernicious maxims you render
social interest a chimera. You consider a pub
lic body as a being, permanent, and in a man
ner eternal, which ought to employ itself about
what concerns it as a public body: but you
never recollect that this public body is com
posed of only individuals, one of whom has
only a few years, and another only a few months
to live in this world, so that the real interest
of such as compose this body has no relation
to the duration of the body, a duration which
individuals cannot expect, and which regards
them only to the end of their own days. You
labour to promote a general interest, in which
individuals have only a very small share, and
you act against the true interest of each, which
consists not in consolidating a world that he is
just quitting, but in learning to pass through it
with dignity, and to leave it with ease.

With these pernicious maxims you keep me
morable catastrophes out of sight, those terri
ble subversions of wicked societies; as the his
tory of the old world, that of Sodom and Go
morrah, that of the kingdom of Judah, that
vf the ten tribes, that of Babylon, that of the

seven eastern churches, and that of many others,
whose sad but edifying ruins should always be
before our eyes.

With these pernicious maxims, for the sake
of a few trifling directions which you give so
ciety for maxims of state, you deprive us of
the powerful protection of a God, who would
himself sit at the helm; you raise his justice
against us, you put into his hands thunder and
lightning to destroy us, and, instead of being
our parents and guides, you are disturbers of
the state, and the most implacable enemies of
sound civil polity.

O " pillar of a cloud!" O " wisdom that is
from above!" Animate, for ever animate, the
conductors of this people, preside in their coun
cils, march at the head of their armies, sanctify
their reflections, and engrave for ever on their
souls this maxim of my text, that " there is no
wisdom nor understanding, nor counsel against
the Lord," James iii. 17.

III. Our third article concerns the voluptu
ous. One of the most inviolable laws of God
is, that felicity should be the reward of virtue,
and misery the punishment of vice. What
does a voluptuous man oppose against the exe
cution of this law? Noise, company, diver
sions, refinements of lasciviousness. In these
he intrenches himself, and defies us to force
him thence. While the catechumen is studi
ously employing himself to clear away the dif
ficulties, and to determine the important ques
tions, on which all his future hopes depend;
while the believer is striving against the stream,
and endeavouring to subdue his own pas
sions; while the penitent feels and bows un
der the weighty remembrance of his sins;
while the martyr falls a victim to the rage of
his persecutors; the voluptuary feels a joy,
which he thinks unalterable, and creates a
kind of fool's paradise, in which he pretends
to brave God, and to be happy in spite of him,
whose sovereign command condemns him to
misery. Absurd tranquillity! Senseless secu
rity! I appeal to reason, I appeal to old age,
I appeal to^death, I appeal to judgment.

What a system is that of the voluptuary,
when it is examined at the bar of reason! There
he is taught, that he owes his existence to a
Supreme Being, and that he is under infinite
obligations to him; there he is made to feel
that he had no assurance of living four days,
that within fifteen, twenty, or thirty years, he
will be taken out of this world, and that at the
end of this term there will be before him noth
ing but cfeath, eternity, and hell. He knows
nothing against this, he agrees to all this, he
inwardly feels demonstrations of all this: but
instead of trying to avoid the evil day, lie tries
to forget it: and, as if the existence of beings
depended on the attention we paid to them, he
imagines he. has annihilated these dreadful
objects, because he has found the art of obli
terating them from his memory.

What a system is that of the voluptuary,
when it is examined at the tribunal of con
science! For, in fact, whatever efforts may be
employed to drown the voice of conscience,
it sometimes roars, and will be heard. Even a
depraved conscience has a kind of periodical
power, it cannot be always intoxicated with
worldly pleasure. Belshazzar, on a certain fes-

56

THE VANITY OF ATTEMPTING

. LIX.

tival day, was sitting at table with his court.
In order to insult the God of Israel, he ordered
the sacred vessels, which his father had brought
away from the temple of Jerusalem, to be
brought into company, that he and his " prin
ces, his wives and his concubines, might drink
therein, and praise the gods of gold and of sil
ver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone."
All on a sudden "his countenance changes,
and his thoughts trouble him; so that the
joints of his loins are loosed, and his knees
smite one against another," Dan. v. 2. 4. 6;
thus proving the truth of what the Wise Man
observes, that " the wicked flee when no man
pursueth," Prov. xxviii. 1. Unhappy king!
What is the occasion of all this terror and fear?
Dost thou see a sword hanging over thee by a
single thread, and ready to fall on thee, and cut
thee asunder? Have thine enemies, who are
besieging the capital, found a way into it? Does
the earth reel under thy feet? Is hell opening
to thine eyes? Do the infernal furies surround
thee, and cause the serpents on their heads to
hiss in thine ears? No: but a " hand is writing
over against the candlestick upon the plaster
of the wall," ver. 5. And what have you to
fear from that hand? You are not acquainted
with the characters. Perhaps the writing is
an encomium on thee. Perhaps it is an oracle,
foretelling thee some new acquisition of splen
dour and glory. Why, of two senses, of
which the writing is capable, dost thou ima
gine the worst? My brethren, behold the so
lution of this difficulty. These fingers of a
man's hand are not alone; the finger of God
accompanies them. The subject is not only
written on the wall of the royal palace; but it
is also inscribed on the heart of the king. His
eyes could not read the characters, but his con
science knew how to explain them. Ah! mi
serable hypocrite! cease calling for astrologers;
leave off consulting magicians and Chaldeans.
Listen to your own heart. The expositor is
within thee, and thy conscience will tell thee
more than all the wise men in thy kingdom.

What a system is that of a voluptuary con
sidered in the decline of life! A voluptuous
man, when his organs are become feeble, and
his faculties worn out, finds he has outlived
his felicity, yet he looks after the gods, of
which time has despoiled him, and in vain ex
pects that voluptuousness can rid him of the
painful reflections which torment and excru
ciate him.

What a system is that of a voluptuary consi
dered in regard to death and future punish
ment! These certainly, ought to alarm all
that expect them: but they ought above all
to terrify a voluptuous man. What will be
the sensibility of such a man? What will be
his despair, when he shall pass from a bed of
down to all-pervading pain, from pleasure to
eternal fire, from excessive lasciviousness to
chains of darkness, from the company of those
who ministered to his voluptousness, to that
of the executioners of divine vengeance.

IV. In fine, a stoical obstinacy is the fourth
obstacle, which some place against the pur
poses of God. Would you see this hardiness
represented in the most insolent language?
Would you see how far men have been able
to carry their extravagance on this article?

Hear one of the most admired of the ancient
philosophers, but the least worthy of admira
tion. Hear what an idea he gives of his wise
man: " There are neither walls nor towers,
which battering rams cannot subvert; but
there are no machines that can shake the
soul of a wise man. Do not compare him to
the walls of Babylon, which Alexander knew
how to destroy; nor to those of Carthage and
Numantia, which human power subverted. Do
not compare him either to the citadel or the
capital, where the marks of enemies attempt
ing to render themselves masters of them are
yet to be seen. Arrows shot at the sun never
reach him. Sacrileges committed in the tem
ples of the Deity, by breaking in pieces the
symbols, and by subverting the edifices, never
affect him. What am I saying? the gods them
selves may be buried in the ruins of their own
temples; but the wise man never can; or,
could he be overwhelmed, he could suffer no
damage. Jupiter hath nothing more than the
wise man, except his immortality. But the
wise man, in his turn, hath this superiority,
that he is perfectly happy during the short
space of this life. In this he is as much great
er than Jupiter, as it is more glorious to com
press all happiness into a narrow space than
to diffuse it through one more considerable,
and to possess as much felicity in one single
instant, as the greatest of the gods enjoys in
eternity."

Who would believe, my brethren, that men,
who were formerly the admiration of the
world, had been able to oppose such crude
and fanciful ideas against all the evidences of
their depravity and dependence? Who could
conceive, that they seriously set these against
sickness, poverty, pain, conscience, death, the
grave, the punishment of hell, and the majesty
of God?

Are there any of this extraordinary sect yet
subsisting? Hath Zeno any disciples now?
Are there any who yet follow and revere the
doctrine of the portico? Yes, my brethren,
there are yet people, who, under another
name, maintain the same sentiments. I know-
not whence the evil comes, whether from the
air we breathe in these provinces, or from our
diet, or from any other cause. I cannot tell
whether dulness of fancy produce in us what
excessive vivacity produces in other countries,
but it should seem, we have as many of this
sort among us as there are in other places.
We have people who affect an unshaken firm
ness, who glory in preserving their tranquillity
under all extremes of fortune; people who be
hold the king of terrors with intrepidity, and
who laugh at the horrors of death, alike im-
moveable in the hearing of the most alarming
truths, the most terrible descriptions of futurity,
censures the most sharp, and threatenings the
most dreadful. And whence do they derive
this calm intrepidity? From vows addressed to
heaven? No. Is it from the progress they have
made in religion? Not at all. Is it from the
clearness of a close, connected, and evident
system? Nothing of all this. Whence then
do they derive these sentiments? From I know
not what secret pride, from I know not what
absurd gravity, from I know not what infernal
inflexibility, from a sort of stoical, or shall I

SER. LIX.j

TO OPPOSE GOD.

rather call it brutal philosophy, which they have
revived. We ingenuously acknowledge that the
sight of people of this character always excites
emulation in us, at least it leads us to deplore
the inefficacy of religion in some people's
minds. Truth with all its brightness, virtue
with its graces, religion with its evidences,
eternity with its demonstrations, celestial feli
city with its pomp, all these things can hardly
hold some trembling Christians steady to their
profession, who yet seem to adhere to Jesus
Christ: while these men without light, with
out proofs, without demonstration, without
certainty, yea without hope discover a tran
quillity, which we should congratulate our
selves for producing, even after we have spent
twenty or thirty years in the ministry.

But how fair soever this exterior may seem,
how insurmountable soever this difficulty may
appear, how strong soever it may seem to pre
vent the judgments of God, and to dispose
of the terrors which they naturally excite in
the conscience, it is an effort of wickedness
easily defeated; and although this fourth way
seems to surpass the three others in wisdom,
yet it actually goes beyond them all in absur
dity and extravagance.

Do we impose on people of this kind? Let
them tell us on what their tranquillity is found
ed. Allowing the circumstances in which we
now are, there can be only two ways of ac
quiring tranquillity in prospect of death. The
first is, to prove that religion is a human con
trivance; that all we propose concerning a fu
ture state, a heaven and a hell, and concerning
the means of escaping the last and enjoying
the first, is either exaggerated or imaginary.
The second is, to bring full proof that we have
performed the duties, to which religion has
annexed a promise of freedom from misery,
and the possession of eternal felicity. In which
class shall I place the man I have been de
scribing?

He would complain of injustice should I put
him in the first class. He alwav:

himself a Christian. He has all his life long
been present at public worship, and has par
taken of our sacraments. In any case, if he
be an infidel, he is a mere idiot. Distracted
with the cares of life, he has never made such
inquiries as are absolutely necessary to refute
the system of religion, even supposing the
system could be refuted; and I pledge myelf,
let him take which side he will, to silence him,
whether he undertake to attack religion, or to
defend it, so grossly ignorant is he of every
thing that belongs to the subject.

Has he then obtained satisfaction by the se
cond method? A man, who has set his heart
entirely at ease, because he can give full proof
that he han performed the duties to which the
gospel has annexed a promise of exemption
from future misery, and a possession of endless
felicity; such a man is truly happy; he has ar
rived at the highest degree of felicity that can
possibly be obtained in this valley of tears; for
his tranquillity is that " joy unspeakable and
full of glory," of which our scripture speaks.
It is that " peace of God, which passeth all un
derstanding." It is the " white stone, which
no man knoweth saving him that receiveth
VOL. II.— 8

it " But is this the condition of the man
whom I have been describing?

On what conditions does religion promise
eternal life to a statesman? On condition that
he always sets before his eyes that King, " by
whom kings reign, and princes decree justice,"
Prov. viii. 15; on condition that he does not
regard the appearance of persons; on condi
tion that he take no bribes, which God de
clares "blind the eyes." You have not per
formed this condition, you are intoxicated
with your own grandeur, you are inaccessible
to the cries of widows and orphans, you are
flexible to presents, though you know they
are given you to be returned in actions dis
guised under the fair names of impartiality and
equity. And are you in a state of tranquillity?

On what condition does the gospel promise
eternal felicity to a counsellor? On condi
tion that he perform the oath administered to
him when he entered on his profession, an oath
in which he called God to witness that he
would never plead any but just causes. You
have not performed this condition, you have
been known to take either side of a cause, yea
both, when your interest required it; you have
been seen exercising your talents in varnishing
over such causes as you durst not state in their
true point of light, and straining every nerve
to mislead the judges. And you are in a
state of tranquillity, and will be so the day
you die.

On what condition does religion promise
eternal happiness to a man in possession of
property unjustly acquired? On condition of
his making restitution. You are, in this case,
I mean in the case of him who holds such pro
perty, for "the stone crieth out of the walls of
your houses, and the beam out of the timber
witnesses against you. The hire of the la
bourers which have reaped down your fields,
which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth,
and the cries are entered into the ears of the
Lord of Hosts," Hab. ii. 11; Jam. v. 4. You
have not made restitution; you will not even
suffer us to utter this frightful word, Restitu
tion; you are going to transmit this accursed
patrimony to your children, and you too are
tranquil and easy! What! are you also a phi
losopher? Are you also a stoic? Extravagant
stoicism, senseless philosophy, absurd tranquil
lity! Is it thus you pretend to oppose Al
mighty God! "There is no wisdom, nor un
derstanding, nor counsel against the Lord."

Let us conclude. The most reasonable part,
that an intelligent creature can take, is to sub
mit to his Creator. Happy, if it were as easy
to affect our hearts, as it is to convince our
judgments of this article! Happy, if the heart
never appealed from the dictates of reason,
and if the passions had no distinct and separate
system! A system the more dangerous, be
cause reason is present only in a few moments
of our attention; whereas the other, on the
contrary, always carries us away when we fol
low the suggestions of our passions, that is in
the usual course of our lives.

My brethren, let us act like intelligent crea
tures, let us form a just idea of sin, let us al
ways have before our eyes this image, which
the Wise Man has given us, and which is so

58

IMAGINARY SCHEMES

[SER. LX

proper to demonstrate to us the extravagance
of it. Let us remember, that a sinner is an
idiot, who attempts to resist God, who opposes
his laws, and who undertakes to counteract
him by superior skill or force. Let us seek in
a reconciliation to God those succours of which
our silly pride offers us only an appearance.
But you love grandeur, vou are struck with the
courage of a man, who opposes God, and who
pretends to resist and triumph over him. Well,
consider the path we open to you in this point
of light. This Almighty God is armed against
you, his anger is ready to crush you to atoms,
his thunder roars, his lightnings flash in your
eyes, his fire is kindled, and his justice requires
your destruction: but there is an art of disarm
ing God. This was the skill of Jacob, who
wept, and prayed, and said, " I will not let
thee go, except thou bless me," Gen. xxxii. 26.
This was the wisdom of Moses, who stood in
the breach to turn away the wrath of heaven,
of that Moses to whom God said, " Let me
alone, that I may consume this people," Exod.
xxxii. 10; but Moses said, "O forgive their sin,
and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of the book
which thou hast written," ver. 32. This is the
art which Jesus Christ taught us, " the king
dom of heaven suffereth violence, and the vio
lent take it by force," Matt. xi. 12. These are
powerful weapons, which God will not oppose.
These are arms always effectual. This was the
method which the Lord formerly taught his
people by the ministry of Isaiah, " Who would
set briars and thorns against me in battle? I
would go through them, I would burn them
together. O, let him take hold of my strength,
he may make peace with me, and he shall make
peace with me," Isa. xxvii. 4, 5. Let us not
make a vain parade before God of fanciful great
ness, let us rather appear in our own insignifi
cance, let us show ourselves as we are, " poor,
miserable, blind, and naked." Let us not pre
tend to surprise him with the wisdom of our
counsels; but let us endeavour to move his com
passion, by acknowledging our uncertainty,
our darkness, our ignorance, our superficial
thoughts on the government of the world, and
on that of our families. Let us not appear be
fore him intoxicated with pleasure, but morti
fied, contrite, bowed down under the weight of
our sins, prostrate in the dust, and wounded
with sincere repentance. Let us not resist him
with a brutal security, but let us lay before him
our timidity, our doubts, and our fears. Let
us conjure him, by the sad objects of our frailty
and insignificance to pity our condition. These
are invincible arms, these are impenetrable
shields, this is' the infallible art of prevailing
with Almighty God. May he deign to teach
us how to exercise it! May he condescend to
crown our efforts with success! Amen! To
him be honour and glory both now and for ever!
Amen.

SERMON LX.

IMAGINARY SCHEMES OF HAPPI
NESS.

ECCLESIASTES i. 9.

The thing that hath 6een, is that which shall be;

and that which is done, is that which shall be

done; and there is no new thing under the sun.

THERE are few people in the world, who do
not form in their minds agreeable plans of hap
piness, made up of future, flattering prospects,
which have no foundation, except in their own
fancies. This disposition of mind, which is so
general among mankind, is also one of the prin
cipal causes of their immoderate desire to live.
Some have questioned, whether any mortal
were ever so happy as to choose to live his life
over again, on condition of passing through all
the events through which he had gone from his
birth to his last hour. Without investigating
this problem, I venture to affirm that mankind
would be much less attached to the world, if
they did not flatter themselves with the hope
of enjoying more pleasure than they had hi
therto experienced. A child fancies, that as
soon as he shall arrive at a certain stature, he
shall enjoy more pleasure than he has enjoyed
in his childhood, and this is pardonable in a
child. The youth persuades himself that men,
who are what they call settled in the world, are
incomparably more happy than young people
can be at his age. While we think ourselves
condemned to live single, solitude seems intole
rable; and when we have associated ourselves
with others, we regret the happy days we spent
in the tranquillity of solitude. Thus we go on
from fancy to fancy, and from one chimera to
another, till death arrives, subverts all our
imaginary projects of happiness, and makes us
know by our own experience what the expe
rience of others might have fully taught us long
before, that the whole world is vanity; that
every state, all ages, and all conditions, have
inconveniences peculiar to themselves, and one
which is common to them all, I mean a cha
racter of disproportion to our hearts; so that by
changing our situation we often do no more
than change our kind of infelicity.

Of this vanity I would endeavour to-day to
convince you, my brethren, and I dedicate this
discourse to the destruction of imaginary
schemes of happiness. " The thing that hath
been, is that which shall be: and that which is
done, is that which shall be done: and there is
no new thing under the sun." It is not unjust
to reason thus; as I have hitherto found nothing
but vanity in all the enjoyments of the world,
which I singled out for myself as most likely to
make me happy, this experience of what has
been shall guide me in my expectations of what

SER. LX.]

OF HAPPINESS.

59

shall be. I have reason to suppose that the
world can offer me no object in future different
in its nature from those which I have always
hitherto found inadequate to my happiness.
All the past has been vanity, and all the future
will be vanity to the end of the world. " The
thing that hath been is that which shall be: and
that which is done is that which shall be done;
and there is no new thing- under the sun."

In order to enter into the views of the Wise
Man, we must observe three things: first, the
error which he attacks — next, the arms he em
ploys — and, lastly, the end he proposes in at
tacking it. Suffer me, before I enter on the
discussion of these articles, to give you a more
exact idea of my meaning, and to lead you more
fully into the plan of this discourse.

In ihe first article I shall try to develope the
idea of Solomon, and to engage you to enter
into the most intricate labyrinths of your own
hearts, and to make you acknowledge that we
are all, more or less, prejudiced in favour of
this bewitching opinion, that future life will
produce something more solid and satisfactory,
than we have hitherto found, especially if we
obtain some advantages, which we have long
had in prospect, but which we have not been
able to obtain.

In tha second part, we will prove, that even
supposing the happiest revolutions in our fa
vour, we should be deceived in our hopes, so
that whether they happen or not we shall be
brought to acknowledge that there is nothing
in this world capable of rendering us perfectly
happy.

In the last place, we shall conclude from these
two principles with the Wise Man, that though
a reasonable creature may be allowed to better
his condition, and to obtain a happier state in
this world than tha past or the present, yet he
ought by no means to promise himself much
success, and that, in one word, it is in God
alone, and in the hope of a future state of hap
piness in another life, that we ought to place
our felicity.

I. Let us first of all determine the sense of
the text, and examine what error the Wise Man
attacks. We have already explained the idea
we affix to his expressions, but as they are vague
and indeterminate, they must be, first of all,
restrained by the nature of the subjects of which
he speaks, and secondly, explained by the place
they occupy.

1. When the Wise Man says, "that which
hath been is that which shall be," he does not
mean to attribute a character of firmness and
consistency to such events as concern us. No
man ever knew better than he the transitoriness
of human affairs: but it is not necessary to our
knowledge of the subject to occupy a post as
eminent as that which he held; for a superficial
view of the condition of public bodies, and of
that of individuals, will be sufficient to open a
wide field to our reflections.

The condition of public bodies is usually
founded on materials so brittle, that there is no
room to be astonished at sudden and perpetual
variations. A spectator, young in his observa
tions, and distant from the central point, is
amazed at the rapid changes which he beholds
suddenly take place like the creation of new
worlds; he supposes whole ages must pass in

removing these enormous masses, public bodies,
and in turning the current of prosperity and
victory. But should he penetrate into the
spring of events, he would soon find, that a very
small and inconsiderable point gave motion to
that wheel, on which turned public prosperity,
and public adversity, and which gave a whole
nation a new and different appearance.

Sometimes all the wise counsels, the cool
deliberations, the well-concerted plans, that
constitute the prosperity of a nation, proceed
from the prudence of one single head. This
one head represses the venality of one, and the
animosity of another; the ambition of this man,
and the avarice of that. Into this head one
single vapour ascends; prosperity relaxes it,
death strikes it off. Instantly a new world
arises, and then that which was is no more, for
with that head well-concerted measures, cool
deliberations, and wise counsels, all vanished
away.

Sometimes the rare qualities of one single
general animate a whole army, and assign to
each- member of it his proper work; to the pru
dent, a station which requires prudence; to the
intrepid, a station which requires courage; and
even to an idiot a place where folly and ab
surdity have their use. From these rare quali
ties a state derives the glory of rapid marches,
bold sieges, desperate attacks, complete victo
ries, and shouts of triumph. This general
finishes his life by his own folly, or is supplanted
by a party cabal, or sinks into inaction on the
soft down of his own panegyrics, or a fatal bul
let, shot at random and without design, pene
trates the heart of this noble and generous man.
Instantly a new world appears, and that which
was is no more; for with this general, victory
and songs of triumph expired.

Sometimes the ability and virtue of one sin
gle favourite enable him to direct the genius
of a prince, to dissipate the enchantments of
adulation, to become an antidote against the
poison of flattery, to teach him to distinguisli
sober applause from self-interested encomiums,
and to render him accessible to the complaints
of widows and orphans. This favourite sinks
into disfavour, and an artful rival steps into
his place. Rehoboam neglected the advice of
prudent old counsellors, and followed the sug
gestions of inconsiderate youth. Any one of
these changes produces a thousand conse
quences.

It would be easy to repeat of individuals what
we have affirmed of public bodies, that is, that
the world is a theatre in perpetual motion, and
always varying; that every day, and in a man
ner, every moment, exhibits some new scene,
some change of decoration. It is then clear,
that the proposition in the text ought to be re
strained to the nature of the subject spoken of.

2. But these indeterminate words, "that
which hath been shall be, and there is no new
thing under the sun," must be explained by the
place they occupy. Our chief guide to deter
mine the meaning of some vague propositions
of an author is to examine where he placed
them, and what precise idea he had in his mind
when he wrote them. By observing this rule,
we find, that the same phrases are often taken
in different senses. Without quoting other ex
amples, we observe, that the words under con-

60

IMAGINARY SCHEMES

. LX.

sideration occur twice in this book, once in the
text, and again in the fifteenth verse of the
third chapter, where we are told, " that which
hath been is now, and that which is to be hath
already been." However, it is certain, that
these two sentences, so much alike in sound,
have a very different meaning. The design of
Solomon, in the latter passage, is to inform such
persons as tremble at the least temptation, that
they were mistaken. We complain, say they,
that God exercises our virtue more than he
does that of other men, and though he allows
these rude attacks, yet he does not afford us
strength sufficient to resist them. No, says
Solomon, whatever variety there may appear
to be in the conduct of God towards men, yet
there is always a certain uniformity, that cha
racterizes his conduct. Indeed he gives five
talents to one, while he commits only one ta
lent to another, and in this respect there is a
variety: but he does not require of him, to whom
he has committed one talent, an account of
more than one talent; while he calls him to ac
count for five talents, to whom he committed
five, and in this respect there is a perfect uni
formity in his conduct; and so of the rest. " I
know that whatsoever God doth (these are the
words of Solomon,) I know that whatsoever
God doth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be
put to it, nor any thing taken from it, and God
cloth it, that men should fear before him. That
which hath been is now, and that which is to
be hath already been, and God requireth that
which is past."

But in our text the same words, " the thing
that hath been is that which shall be," have a
different meaning. It is evident, by the place
in which the Wise Man put them, that he in
tended to decry the good things of this life, to
make the vanity of them appear, and to con
vince mankind, that no revolutions can change
the character of vanity essential to their con
dition. The connexion of the words establishes
the meaning. From what events do mankind
expect, says he, to procure to themselves a firm
and solid happiness in this life? What efforts
can be made greater than have been made?
Yet " what profit hath a man of his labour
which he taketh under the sun? One genera
tion passeth away, and another generation
cometh," but the world continues the same;
" the sun riseth, and the sun goeth down, and
hasteth to his place where he arose. The wind
goeth toward the south, and turneth about
unto the north, and the wind returneth again
according to his circuits. All rivers run into
the sea, and whence they come, thither they
return again, ver. 3 — 7. The moral world
resembles the world of nature. It is in vain to
expect any vicissitude that will render the
remaining part of life more happy than the
former. " The eye is not satisfied with seeing,"
ver. 8; or, as may be translated, " with con
sidering; nor the ear filled with hearing;" or,
as the words may be rendered, " the ear never
ceases to listen."* But this contention, which
makes us stretch all our faculties in search of

* Visus et auditus synecdochice ponuntur pro omnibus
rjuibus voluptatem percipimus. Horum aulem sensuurn
meminit, turn quia curiosissimi sunt; turn quia et ininimo
Jaborc et maxima cum delectatione exerceutur, Poli
Synopa. in loc. R.

something to fill the void, that all past and
present enjoyments have left in our hearts, this
does not change the nature of things; all will
be vanity in future, as all has been vanity in
former times. " The thing which hath been,
is that which shall be; and that which is done,
is' that which hath been done; and there is no
new thing under the sun."

Weigh these womb, my brethren, " the eye
is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled
with hearing." It seems this is precisely the
disposition of mind which the Wise Man at
tacks; a disposition, as I said before, common
to mankind, and one of the principal causes of
our immoderate attachment to life. Let each
of us study his own heart, and let us examine
whether we know the portrait that we are now
going to try to sketch.

We often declaim on the vanity of the world;
but our declamations are not unfrequently
more intended to indemnify pride, than to
express the genuine feelings of a heart disabus
ed. We love to declaim against advantages
out of our reach, and we take vengeance on
them for not coming within our grasp by ex
claiming against them. But such ideas as
these, how just soever they may appear, are
only superficial. It would be a fatal error
indeed, to persuade ourselves that we are really
undeceived, and consider the world in a true
point of light on this account.

A dying man is all taken up with his then
present condition. A desire of health occupies
all the capacity of his soul; but he does not
observe, that, should he recover, he would lind
the same troubles and pains as before, and on
account of which he has felt so much uneasiness,
and shed so many tears. A man waiting on
the coast, to go abroad, wishes for nothing but
a fair wind; and he does not think that he shall
find other, and perhaps greater calamities, in
another climate than those which compelled
him to quit his native soil. This is an image
of us all. Our minds are limited, and when an
object presents itself to us, we consider it only
in one point of view, in other lights we are not
competent to the examination of it.

Hence the interest we take in some events,
in the revolutions of states, the phenomena of
nature, and the change of seasons: hence that
perpetual desire of change; hence sportive
phantoms incessantly created by our imagina
tions; hence chimerical projects for ever re
volving in our minds; or, as the Wise Man
expresses it, " Eyes never satisfied with seeing,
and ears never filled with hearing." O, says
one, could I get cured of this illness, which
renders life a burthen — could I, says another,
get free from the company that poison all my
pleasures — could I go, says a third, and settle
in a country where maxims and laws are alto
gether different from those under which I live
— could I but obtain that place, which would
take me out of the obscurity in which I am
buried alive, and render me conspicuous — could
I acquire a sufficient fortune to support a cer
tain number of domestics, and to procure me
certain accommodations, then, in retirement
and silence, I would gratify the desire that
alone animates me, of employing my life in a
pursuit of wisdom, and virtue, and happiness!
Poor mortals! will you always run after phan-

SER. LX.]

OF HAPPINESS.

61

toms? No, it is not any of the revolutions you
so earnestly desire can alter the vanity essential
to human things: with all the advantages which
you so earnestly desire, you would find yourself
as void and as discontented as you are now.
" The thing which hath been, is that which
shall be; and that which is done, is that which
shall be done: and there is no new thing under
the sun." O that it were as easy to imprint
these truths on our hearts, as it is to give evi
dence that they are truths to the judgment!

II. Let us endeavour to admit these truths,
with all their effects (and this shall be the
second part of our discourse,) let us attempt
the work, though we have so many reasons to
fear a want of success. Let us first examine
the destination of man — next let us look into
the school of the world — then into the expe
rience of Solomon — and, lastly, let us review
the history of our own lives. These are four
barriers against imaginary projects; four proofs,
or rather four sources of demonstrations in
evidence of the truth of the text. ' ' The thing
that hath been, is that which shall be: and that
which is done, is that which shall be done: and
there is no new thing under the sun."

I. Let us first observe the appointment of
man, and let us not form schemes opposite to
that of our Creator. When he placed us in
this world, he did not intend to confine us to
it; but when he formed us capable of happiness,
he intended we should seek in it an economy
different from this. Without this principle
man is an inexplicable enigma; his faculties
and his wishes, his afflictions and his con
science, his life and his death, every thing that
concerns man is obscure, and beyond all eluci
dation.

His faculties are enigmatical. Tell us what
is the end and design of the faculties of man?
Why has he the faculty of knowing? What,
is it only to arrange a few words in his memory?
only to know the sounds or the pictures to
which divers nations of the world have associ
ated their ideas? Is it merely to learn Greek
and Hebrew, to collect a chaos of ancient his
tory, to go beyond remote ages, and to discover
with some degree of probability what were the
habits, the customs, and the follies, of the first
inhabitants of this universe? Has man intel
ligence only for the purpose of racking his
brain, and losing himself in a world of abstrac
tions, in order to disentangle a few questions
from metaphysical labyrinths? what is the origin
of ideas, what are the properties, and what is
the nature of spirit? Glorious object of know
ledge for an intelligent being! An object in
general more likely to produce skepticism, than
demonstration of a science properly so called.
Let us reason in like manner on the other facul
ties of mankind.

His desires are problematical. What power
can eradicate, what power can moderate his
desire to extend and perpetuate his duration?
The human heart includes in its wish the past,
the present, the future, yea eternity itself.
Explain to us, what proportion there can be
between the desires of man and the wealth
which he accumulates, the honours he pursues,
the sceptre in his hand, and the crown on his
head?

His miseries are enigmatical. This article

opens a more ample field of meditation than
the former, for the pleasures of mankind are
only a point, only an atom in comparison of
the miseries which pursue and overtake him.
Who can reconcile the doctrine of a good God
with that of a miserable man, with the doubts
that divide his mind, with the remorse that
gnaws his heart, with the uncertainties that
torment him, with the catastrophe that enve
lopes him, with the vicissitudes which are
always altering his situation, with the false
friends who betray him, with pain that con
sumes him, with indigence that contracts hid,
with neglect and contempt which mortify him,
and with such a number of other inconvenien
ces and calamities as conspire to embitter his
existence?

His /i/« is a mystery. What part, poor man,
what part are you acting in this world? Who
misplaced you thus? , ,

His death is enigmatical. This is the greatest
of all enigmas; four days of life, a life of sixty,
or a hundred years, is all that this creature
called man has to expect in this world; he dis
appears almost as soons as he makes his ap
pearance, he is gone in an instant from the
cradle to the coffin, his swaddling bands are
taken off, and his shroud is put on.

Lay down the principle which we have ad
vanced, grant that the great design of the Cre
ator, by placing man amidst the objects of this
present world, was to draw out and extend his
desires after another world, and then all these
clouds vanish, all these veils are drawn aside,
all these enigmas explained, nothing is obscure,
nothing is problematical in man.

His faculties are not enigmatical; the faculty
of knowing is not confined to such vain science
as he can acquire in this world. He is not
placed here to acquire knowledge, but virtue;
at least he is placed in this world to acquire
knowledge only so far as it contributes t® the
acquisition of virtue. If he acquire virtue, he
will be admitted into another world, where his
utmost desire of knowledge will be gratified.

His desires are not mysterious. When the
laws of order require him to check and control
his wishes, let him restrain them. When the
profession of religion requires it, let him deny
himself agreeable sensations, and let him pa
tiently suffer the cross, tribulations, and perse
cutions. Let him subdue his passion for ele
vation and grandeur, and let him humbly rest
in that mean situation where it has pleased
Providence to place him. Let him moderate
his love of riches, and let him patiently submit
to poverty and indigence. After he shall have
thus submitted to the laws of his Creator, he
may expect another period in which his desire
to be great will be satisfied.

His miseries are no more enigmatical; they
exercise his virtue, and will be rewarded with
glory.

His life ceases to be mysterious; it is a state
of probation, a time of trial, a period given
him to make choice of an eternity of happi
ness, or an eternity of misery.

His death is no longer a mystery, and it is
impossible that either his life or his death
should be enigmas, for the one unfolds the
other: the life of man is not an enigma, be
cause it tends to death, and death verifies,

IMAGINARY SCHEMES

[SER. LX.

proves, and demonstrates the idea we have
given of life.

We conclude, then, that the destination of
man is one great barrier against imaginary
schemes of happiness. Change the face of so
ciety, subvert the order of the world, put
despotical government in the place of a de
mocracy, peace in the place of war, plenty in
the place of scarcity, and you will alter noth
ing but the surface of human things, the sub
stance will always continue the same. " The
thing that hath been, is that which shall be
akid that which is done, is that which shal
be done: and there is no new thing under
the sun."

2. The school of the world opens to us a
cond source of demonstrations. Enter this
school, and you will renounce all vain schemes
of felicity.

There you will learn, that the greatest part
of the pleasures of the world, of which you
entertain such fine notions, are only phan
toms, which seem indeed at a distance to have
some solidity and consistence, but which van
ish the moment you approach and try to en
joy them.

There you will learn, that the extensive
views, the great designs, the plans of immor
tality and glory, which revolve in the mind of
on ambitious man, keep him continually upon
the rack, trouble his repose, deprive him of
sleep, and render him insensible to all the plea
sures of life.

There you will understand, that the friends
who attach themselves to us when we have
favours to bestow, are venal souls, who put up
their esteem at auction, and sell it to the high
est bidder: blood-suckers, who live upon the
substance of those round whom they twist and
twine; that the sacred names of friendship,
tenderness, zeal, and devotedness, are nothing
in their mouths but empty sounds, to which
they affix no ideas.

There you will find that those passions, which
men of high rank have the power of fully gra
tifying, are sources of trouble and remorse, and
that all the pleasure of gratification is nothing
in comparison of the pain of one regret caused
by the remembrance of it.

There you will learn, that the husbandman,
who all day follows the plough or the cart,
and who finds at home in the evening a family
of love, where innocent and affectionate chil
dren surround a table furnished with plain and
simple diet, is incomparably more happy, than
the favourite of victory and fortune, who rides
in a superb carriage attended by a splendid re
tinue, who sits at a table where art and nature
seem to vie with each other in lavishing out
their treasures, who is surrounded with cour
tiers watching their fate in the cast of his eye,
or the signal of his hand.

In a word, you will there understand, that
what may seem the most fortunate events in
your favour, will contribute very little to your
happiness.

3. But if the school of the world is capable
of teaching us to renounce our fanciful projects
of felicity, Solomon is the man in the world
the most learned in this school, and the most
able to give us intelligence. Accordingly, we

have made his declaration the third source of
our demonstrations.

When your preachers declaim against the
vanity of human things, you secretly say to
yourselves, their judgment merits very little
regard. You think that they, generally edu
cated in silence and retirement, having breath
ed only the dusty air of schools and libraries,
are unacquainted with that world against which
they declaim. I will not now examine this re
proach. People of our order, I grant, are very
apt to form false ideas of the world. But take
our word for one truth, for which we could al
lege a thousand proofs, that is, that if they
magnify worldly objects, it is because they are
strangers to the world. A hermit who has
spent all his days in dens and deserts; a nun
sequestered from society in her childhood, and
buried in the cells and solitary walks of a con
vent; a man who has grown gray over his
books; people of this kind generally imagine
that the world is full of pleasure, and that the
demon of voluptuousness has strewed all the
paths with flowers and perfumes in favour of
such as travel them. I know no one more pro
per to teach us a good course of morality than
an old reformed courtier, who chooses to re
tire after he has spent the prime of his life in
" 5sipation.

On this principle, what an impression ought
the declaration of Solomon to make on our
minds? But what an idea does he give us of
all the good things of which he had made an
experiment' " and this also," says he of each
particular, in the catalogue of the whole, "and
this also is vanity." This word seems to me
very remarkable, " THIS also, and this also is
vanity."

Few men are so fascinated with the world
as not to know that some things in it are vain
and vexatious. Most men say of some parti
cular object, this is vanity; but very few are
so rational as to comprehend all the good things
of this life in the same class, and to say of
each, as Solomon did, " this also is vanity."
A poor peasant, whose ruinous cottage does
not keep out the weather, will readily say, My
cottage is vanity: but he imagines there is a
great deal of solidity in the happiness of him
who sleeps in a superb palace. A man who is
admitted only into a small circle of company,
lardly known in society, will say without hesi
tation, my circle is vanity; but he fancies there
s a great deal of solidity in the happiness of
hose who are admitted into circles; or, shall I
•ather say, into that chaos, where Jews and
Greeks, Barbarians and Scythians, people of
all nations, and of every religion, seem to con-
ribute to a general disorder and confusion?

Solomon knew all these conditions of life,
and it was because he knew them all, that he
leclaimed against them; and had you, like
lim, known them all by experience, you would
orm such an idea as he did of the whole.
See what a list he makes, and observe, he says
hat of each, which he said of the whole,
this also is vanity." What! Is it vain to
>ossess great riches? Yes. " He that loveth
ilver shall not be satisfied with silver; this is
Iso vanity." Whatl^Is it vain to become a
elebrated author, a model of erudition? Yes,

SER. LX.] OF HAPPINESS.

says he, of making many books " there is no
end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
This also is vanity. Vanity of vanities, saith
the preacher, all is vanity."

4. To reflections on the experience of Solo
mon add your own, and to this purpose recol
lect the history of your life. Remember the
time when sighing and wishing for the condi
tion in which Providence has since placed you,
you considered it as the centre of felicity, and
verily thought, could you obtain that state you
should wish for nothing more. You have ob
tained it. Do you think now as you did then?

You, who formerly had hardly enough to
subsist on, now possess enough for your subsis
tence, and almost enough for your wishes,
have you less inclination now to augment your
superfluities than you had then to acquire a
maintenance?

You, who have been raised from the mean
est and most obscure employment in society to
one of the most conspicuous and brilliant of
fices, do you feel yourself less disposed to have
no equal, than you did formerly to have few

You, who are now come to manhood through
a sickly youth, in which you did not expect to
live half your days, have you less desire to ar
rive at a hoary old age, than you had formerly
to advance to manhood?

Realize all the fanciful schemes of happiness
that revolve in your minds, and you will find,
that the good things you acquire will leave you
as hungry, and as void, as these do which you
actually possess; and that the more you enter
into the spirit of this supposition, the more will
you be astonished at the exact conformities
there are between conditions which at first sight
appear to you so extremely different.

III. From all these reflections what conse
quences shall we draw? That all conditions
are absolutely equal? That as they who actu
ally enjoy the most desirable advantages of
life, ought to consider them with sovereign
contempt, so people who are deprived of them,
ought not to take any pains to acquire them,
and to better their condition? No, my brethren,
God forbid we should preach a morality so aus
tere, and so likely to disgrace religion.

On the one hand, they to whom God has
granted the good things of this life ought to
know the value of them, and to observe with
gratitude the difference which Providence has
made between them and others. Worldly
prosperity, I grant, is not the most substantial
good; however, it is not an imaginary advan
tage: it is not indeed that permanent good
which will continue ours after death; but it is,
however, capable of rendering the present state
more agreeable.

Do you enjoy liberty? Liberty is a great
good: feel the pleasure of liberty. Behold the
man who is enclosed in lofty and impenetrable
walls; who breathes only an infectious and un
wholesome air; who lies on straw in a dun
geon, and who, with the utmost attention and
pains, .can hardly perceive a ray of light, and
bless God that you are not in the condition of
that man.

Are you rich? Wealth is a great good: en
joy the pleasure of being rich. Behold the
man loaded with debts, destitute of friends,

pursued by inexorable creditors; having indeed
just enough to keep himself alive to-day, but
not knowing how he shall support life to-mor
row, and bless God you are not in the condition
of that man.

Do you enjoy your health? Health is a great
good: relish the pleasure of being well. Ob
serve the man lying on a sick bed, unable to
bear up a body loaded with infirmities, not able
to move himself without excruciating sensa
tions of pain, crawling towards the grave by
the horrible road of the gout or the stone.

Nothing but a fund of stupidity or ingrati
tude can render us insensrble to temporal bless
ings, when it pleases God to bestow them on
us. What! Did you, as soon as you opened
your eyes, see yourself crowned with a thou
sand advantages; did God seem to take plea
sure in making your condition a composition
of honour, wealth, and pleasure; did you find
yourself, without contributing to it the least
labour or attention, abundantly supplied with
every thing that can render life easy and deli
cious; and because, carry human felicity to
what pitch you will, there is nothing perfect in
it, do you give up yourself to grief and melan
choly, does a dark and gloomy temper within
you triumph over all the motives that ought
to inspire you with gratitude and joy?

As they, to whom Providence has granted
the comforts of life, ought to know the value
of them, and to enjoy them with gratitude, so
it is allowable, yea it is the duty of such aa
are deprived of them to endeavour to acquire
them, to meliorate their condition, and to pro
cure in future a condition more happy than
that to which they have hitherto been con
demned, and which has caused them so many
difficulties and tears. Self-love is the most
natural and lawful of all our passions. We
ought not to neglect to acquire any good, ex
cept the possession of it would be incompatible
with that of a greater good, and we ought not
to consent to suffer any ills, except enduring
them would prevent greater ills. But, other
things being equal, every one ought to endea
vour to procure himself an agreeable condition
of life in this world.

Besides the love of our neighbour, the duty
so much enforced by our great Lawgiver, the
love which our Master requires us to extend
as far to our neighbour as to ourselves, this
duty engages us to avail ourselves of all the
innocent means which are offered to us to ac
quire the good things of this life. The more
riches you have, the more able will you be to
assist the indigent. The higher you are ele
vated in society, the more will you have it in
your power to succour the oppressed. The
more learning, and knowledge, and accuracy
you have, the more will it be in your power to
press home the duties of religion, to defend the
truth, and to display the beauty and advantage
of virtue.

Our design, in restraining your projects, is
to engage you patiently to bear the inconve
niences of your present condition, when you
cannot remedy them; because whatever differ
ence there may seem to be between the most
happy and the most miserable mortal in this
world, there is much less, all things considered,
than our misguided passions imagine.

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

JER. LXI.

Our design, in checking the immoderate in
clination we have to contrive fanciful schemes
of happiness, is to make you enjoy with tran
quillity such blessings as you have. Most men
render themselves insensible to their present
advantages by an extravagant passion for future
acquisitions. The avidity, with which they
wish to acquire more riches, prevents their
enjoying what they actually possess; the avidity
with which they desire to obtain a station more
elevated in society, prevents their tasting the
pleasure of that in which Providence has placed
them. In a word, our design is to engage you
to proportion the pains you take to obtain
worldly advantages to the true value of them.

Above all, the design, the chief design we
have in denouncing a vain and unsatisfactory
being in this world, is to engage you to seek
after a happy futurity in the presence of God;
to engage you to expect from the blessings of
a future state what you cannot promise your
self in this. And what, my soul, canst thou
expect during the short period of this life, if the
remainder will resemble the past, if in future
years thy condition will resemble that of the
former days, if thou must pass through the
same vicissitudes, suffer the same maladies, be
witness to the same injustice, see the same in
fidelity, and the same perfidy?

But if all mankind ought to preserve them
selves from the disorder of fanciful schemes of
future pleasure, they above all are bound to
do so, who are arrived at old age, when years
accumulated bring us near the infirmities of
declining life, or a dying bed. Such a man
ought to say to himself, What can I henceforth
expect in this world? Should an unheard-of
revolution happen in my favour, should the
face of the universe be changed, should all the
advantages of the world unite, and present
themselves to me, what benefit could I derive
from them?

What advantage could I derive from a well-
furnished table? I, whose palate has lost the
faculty of tasting and relishing food? What ad
vantage could I derive from a numerous levee?
I, to whom company is become a burden, and
who am in a manner a burden to myself? What
advantage could I derive from elegant apart
ments, and extensive landscapes; I, whose eyes
are incapable of discerning objects, whose body,
almost motionless, is confined to an easy chair,
or a sick bed? In one word, what benefit can
I reap from a concurrence of all the advantages
of life, I, who am within a few steps of the
gates of death? Happy! when my life comes
to an end, to be able to incorporate my ex
istence with that of the immortal God! Happy!
when I feel this earthly tabernacle sink, to be
able to exercise that/at^, which is an " evidence
of things not seen!" Happy to ascend to that
"city, which hath foundations, whose builder
and maker is God!" Heb. xi. 1. 10.

May we all, my dear brethren, live, grow
old, and die in these sentiments! God grant us
the grace. To him to be honour and glory for
ever. Amen.

SERMON LXI.<

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

ECCLESIASTES ii. 17.

I hated life, because the work that is wrought
under the sun is grievous unto me.

WERE we to estimate life by the idea which
Solomon gives of it in the words of the text, it
should seem there was very little wisdom in
our congratulating one another, this morning,
on beginning a new year. There should seem
better reasons for deploring our fate, because
we are alive, than for congratulating one
another on the happiness of seeing another
new year's day. Ye desolate families, in which
death has made such cruel breaches! I think,
while this day naturally brings to your remem
brance those dear parts of yourselves, you
ought rather to shed tears of joy than sorrow!
And you, " Rachel, weeping for your children,"
you ought rather "to be comforted for the
children" that are, than for those that " are
not." It should seem that the benedictions of
the servant of God, who preceded us this
morning in this pulpit, and to which we are
going to join ours, were very unsuitable to the
tender affections we owe you, and to which
this solemnity adds a new degree of activity
and force.

Long may you live, said we this morning to
one another; may God bless you, your fellow-
citizens, your relations, your friends, and your
children, long may they live! Enjoy the bless
ings of peace, prosperity in commerce, stability
in freedom, riches and plenty in abundance!
Attain, and, if it be possible, go beyond the
usual limits of the life of man, and may every
day of that life be distinguished by some new
prosperity. These were the benedictions and
prayers which our friends uttered to us and we
to them. And yet the Wise Man tells us, that
riches and plenty, that the best established I,-
berty and the most prosperous trade, that the
blessings of peace and all the advantages of this
life, are nothing but vanity. He does more,
after he had experienced all the pomp of
worldly grandeur, and immensity of wealth,
the utmost refinement of pleasure, and the
most extensive reputation, after he had been
the happiest mortal that ever lived upon earth,
he tells us in the words of the text, " I hated
life, because the work that is wrought under
the sun is grievous unto me."

What then, must we revoke the congratula
tions of this morning? Do we come to pray to
God to send out his destroying angels to return
us that mortality which has been ravaging our
towns and provinces? Are we come to collect
all our prayers into this one of Jonah, "O
Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me, for
it is better for me to die than to live," chap.

* Preached on the first day of the year 1728.

LXL]

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

iv. 3; or, in this of Elijah, " It is enough, now,

0 Lord, take away my life, for I am not better
than my fathers!" 1 Kings xix. 4.

It is this contrast of ideas that we will en
deavour to reconcile, for in this point of light
we are going to consider the words of the text,
and to treat of disgust with the world and con
tempt of life. Happy! it we be able by any
observations of ours to abate the asperity of
your minds in regard to the hateful things of
life, and to engage you to make a holy use of
every thing agreeable in it. Happy! if, by
turning your attention to the amiable side of
life, we may inspire you with gratitude to God
for preserving it, in spite of the many perils to
which it is exposed; and if, by showing you
the other side, we may incline you to quit it
with joy, whenever it shall please God to re
quire it. This is the substance of all our ac
clamations and prayers in your favour to-day.
Almighty and most merciful God, condescend
to ratify in heaven what we are sincerely en
deavouring to effect on earth! Amen.

I suppose it is Solomon himself who speaks
the words of my text, and not any one of the
interlocutors, whom he introduces in his book.

1 suppose that he expresses in the words his
own sentiments, and not those of any other
person; and that he tells us not what he thought
while his reason was wandering, and he was
pursuing the vanities of the world, but what
he thought after his recovery, and when he
was under the direction of divine wisdom.

This observation is absolutely necessary for
the understanding of the text. The great dif
ficulty of the Book of Ecclesiastes is owing to
the great variety of persons who are introduced
there, each of whom proposes maxims con
formable to his own principles. Is it the same
man, who says in one place, " Go thy way,
eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with
a merry heart. Live joyfully all the days of
thy vanity, for that is thy portion in this life,
and God now accepteth thy works," chap. ix.
7. 9; and in another place, " Rejoice, O young
man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of
thy heart: but know thou, that for all these
things God will bring thee to judgment?" chap,
xi. 9. Is it the same man, who says in one
place, " I commended mirth, because a man
hath no better thing under the sun than to eat,
and to drink, and to be merry," chap. viii. 15;
and in another place, " I said of laughter, it is
mad; and of mirth, what doth it?" chap. ii. 2.
Is it the same man, who says in one place,
" The dust shall return to the earth as it was,
and the spirit shall return unto God who gave
it," chap. xii. 7; and in another place, " The
dead have no more a reward, for the memory
of them is forgotten: to him that is joined to
all the living there is hope, but the dead know
not any thing, for a living dog is better than a
dead lion?" chap. ix. 4, &c.

Expositors of this book, perhaps, have not
always paid a sufficient attention to this variety.
Which of us has not, for example, quoted
against the doctrine of invocation of saints these
words, " The living know that they shall die,
but the dead know not any thing; their love,
and their hatred is now perished, neither have
they any more a portion for ever in any thing
that is done under the sun?" chap. ix. 5, 6.
VOL. II.— 9

Yet I. think we have sufficient reasons to pre
sume, that the Wise Man puts these words into
the mouth of a libertine, so that though they
contain a truth, yet they cannot be proposed
in proof of a doctrine. I suppose we must en
tertain the same idea of another passage, which
seems to establish one of the finest maxims of
morality, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,
do it with thy might, for there is no work, nor
device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the
grave whither thou goest," chap. ix. 10. But
if you consider, that this is a consequence
drawn from the irony just before, " Go, eat thy
bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a
merry heart," ver. 7, you will suppose, as we
do, that it contains a pernicious maxim, like
that mentioned by the prophet, "let us eat
and drink, for to-morrow we shall die," Isa.
xxii. 13.

There are other inspired books, as well as
this of Ecclesiastes, subject to the same misin
terpretation. Under pretence that the Scrip
ture is divinely inspired, people quote texts in
discriminately. Certainly it is divinely inspired,
and for this reason we should always reject
such maxims as would tend to defeat the de
sign of it. Without this precaution you may
prove by Scripture things the most opposite to
the design of Scripture; you may prove that
God has violated his promises, because it is
said in Scripture, "where is the promise of his
coming?" Or you may prove that atheism is
preferable to religion, because the Scripture
says, "there is no God;" and so by a hundred
other passages you may prove a hundred simi
lar absurdities.

But the connexion of our text with preceding
and following verses, and its perfect harmony
with the design of the Wise Man, which was
to decry the world and its pleasures, and by his
own experience to undeceive such as made idols
of them, confirm, in my opinion, the judgment
we have formed of them; the whole authorizes
us to consider the words as proceeding from the
mouth of Solomon himself, expressive of his
own sentiments and not those of others, and
what he thought after his reconversion, and not
what his opinion was during his dissipation.

I. On this principle, we will first rid the text
of several false meanings, which it may seem at
first sight to countenance; for as there is a dis
gust with the world, and a contempt of life,
which wisdom inspires, so there is a hatred of
the world that arises from evil dispositions. We
may be disgusted with life from a principle of
melancholy — from a principle of misanthropy
— from a principle of discontent — and, which is
still more singular, we may be disgusted with
the world through an excessive esteem for the
world, and hate life through a too violent at
tachment to it.

1. We may hate life because we are melan
choly. Only he, whose ideas are disconcerted
by a dark and gloomy temper, can say fully and
without qualification, " I hate life." To attri
bute such a disposition to the Wise Man is to
insult the Holy Spirit who animated him. All
the advantages of life, I grant, cannot procure
us perfect happiness, yet every one may procure
us some satisfaction, transient but real, provided
we enjoy each with such moderation as wisdom
prescribes. Instead of exclaiming in inolau-

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

[SER. LXI,

choly mood against society, "What friends!
What friendships!" Enjoy the innocent plea
sures of society, and you will find that they can
contribute to suspend your pain, to dissipate
your anxieties, and to relieve your wearisome
attention to your misfortunes. Instead of ex
claiming against fortune, and saying, " Riches
and honours, what are they good for?" Enjoy,
as far as justice and benevolence will allow, the
advantages of fortune, and you will experience
that they may procure you some agreeable ac
commodations, which you are permitted, yea
commanded to relish. Instead of exclaiming
against reputation, and saying, "What doth it
signify to be known and esteemed among man
kind?" Enjoy the advantages of reputation,
and you will experience some satisfaction in
being respected by intelligent persons in society.
Though, in general, the world is unjust in esti
mating ability and virtue, yet there are many
rational members of society, who know how to
distinguish gold from tinsel, and real ability
from parade.

2. Some are disgusted with life from a prin
ciple of misanthropy. What is a misanthrope,
•or a hater of mankind? He is a man, who
avoids society only to free himself from the
trouble of being useful to it. He is a man, who
considers his neighbours only on the side of
their defects, not knowing the art of combining
their virtues with their vices, and of rendering
the imperfections of other people tolerable by
reflecting on his own. He is a man more em
ployed in finding out and inflicting punishments
on the guilty than in devising means to reform
them. He is a man, who talks of nothing but
banishing and executing,' and who, because he
thinks his talents are not sufficiently valued and
employed by his fellow-citizens, or rather, be
cause they know his foible, and do not choose
to be subject to his caprice, talks of quitting
cities, towns, and societies, and of living in dens
or in deserts. Intercourse with mankind is dis
agreeable, you say. Very well, I grant it.
But do you know what would make it infinitely
more disagreeable? I will tell you. It would
be, if all the members of society were animated
with your spirit. What a society would that
be, which should be composed of people with
out charity, without patience, without con
descension!

My text does not inculcate such sentiments
as these. The Wise Man had met with a great
many disagreeable events in society which had
given him a great deal of pain, but, far from
being driven out of it, he continued to reside in
the world, and to amend and improve it by his
wise counsel and good example. Read the
Book of Proverbs, and this of Ecclesiastes, and
observe how he endeavours to preserve society
from damage by exposing the snares into which
he hi mself had fallen. Behold , being converted
himself, he endeavours to " strengthen his bre
thren, and to teach transgressors the ways of
God!" How accurately does he describe all
conditions of life! With what charity does he
condescend, if 1 may venture to speak so, from
the cedars of Lebanon to the hyssop upon the
wall, so that there is no profession so mean,
nor any man so obscure in his profession, that
'"he does not either direct or improve. Disgust
with the world should never prevent our as

sisting the inhabitants of it, and our contempt
of life should always be accompanied with cha
rity for the living.

3. Sometimes a spirit of discontent produces
disgust with the world, and contempt of life.
To hear the people I mean, one would think it
was impossible that this world should be go
verned by a wise Being, because, forsooth, they
are doomed with the rest of mankind to live in,
a valley of trouble. But who art thou, thou
miserable man, to conceive ideas so false, and
to form opinions so rash! Learn to know thy
self, and to do thyself justice! If thou shouldst
be required by the rigorous judgment of God
to expiate thy crimes, it would not be in the
vanity of this world, it would be in the flames
of hell! It would not be in the society of men,
faithless in trade, inconstant in friendship, in
sipid in conversation, troublesome in applica
tion, perfidious in contracts, it would be in the
society of the devil and his angels! It would
not be in the narrow compass of this life, the
brevity of which may be justly compared to a
vapour lost in the air, a flower fading in the
sun, a dream vanishing in the morning, it will
be in a succession of ages, in the boundless gulfs
of eternity.

4. I said finally, my brethren, that we were
sometimes disgusted with the world through an
excess of fondness for the world, and hated life
through an over valuation of it. " Oh heart of
man, deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked!" Jer. xvii. 9. Who would not think,
to hear some men exclaim, " Ah human life, I
only wish to free myself from thy connexions,
and thou, wicked world, I detest thee!" Who
would not think that these people were con
vinced of the vanity of the world! But unde
ceive yourselves. Man enters the world as an
enchanted place. While the charm lasts, the
man I speak of is in raptures, and thinks he has
found the supreme good. He imagines that
riches have no wings, that splendid fortune has
no reverse, that the great have no caprice, that
friends have no levity, that health and youth
are eternal: but as it is not long before he re
covers his senses, he becomes disgusted with
the world in the same proportion as he had
been infatuated with it, and his hatred of life is
exactly as extravagant as his love of it had
been; that is to say, these sentiments, which
seem so just and respectable, do not proceed
from serious reflections on the views, which an
immortal soul ought to have: that is to say, you
would have consented to renounce all hopes of
future happiness, and to be for ever separated
from God, had not the spring of your life passed
away with so much rapidity, had your connex
ions been more durable, had your interest at
court been better supported.

How pitiable is your condition! In it you
unite the misfortunes of time with the miseries
of eternity. You disclaim both heaven and
earth, you are disgusted with the vanity of the
one, and you have no taste for the other. A
worldling indemnifies himself by present enjoy
ments for the loss of future bliss, of which he
has no prospect; and a Christian indemnifies
himself by enjoying pleasures in prospect for
the loss of sensual delights; but you! at what do
you aspire? Yaur condition is the height of
misery, *s jt is the height of absurdity.

SKR. LXL]

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

67

It is not in any of these senses that the Wise
Man says, " I hated life, because the work that
is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me.1'
He would have us understand, that the earth
has more thorns than flowers — that our condi
tion here, though incomparably better than we
deserve, is however inadequate to our just and
constitutional desires — that our inconveniences
in this life would seem intolerable, unless we
were wise enough to direct them to the same
end that God proposed by exposing us to suffer
them — in a word, that nothing but hope in a
future state formed on another plan can render
the disorders of this world tolerable. So much
may serve to explain the meaning of the Wise
Man.

II. Let us now proceed to justify the sense
given, and to this I shall devote the remainder
of this discourse, and all the moments of atten
tion which we shall take the liberty to require
of you.

I will make use of no artifice to obtain my
end. I will not affect, in order to detach you
from the world, to exhibit only the odious things
of the world; nor will I combat an excessive
love of life by opposing against it the pains and
the miseries of the living; but I mean to attack
your idols in their fort, to decry life by showing
its most amiable sides, and to endeavour to dis
gust you with the world by exposing the most
desirable objects in it.

The phantoms that seduced Solomon during
his dissipation may be reduced to two classes.
The first suppose in the dissipated man very
little knowledge, and very little taste; and it is
astonishing that a man so eminently endowed
with knowledge could set his heart upon them.
The second may more easily impose on an en
lightened and generous mind. In the first class
I place riches, grandeur, and voluptuousness,
with all their appendages. If these be, as they
certainly are, the most common idols of man
kind, it is for a reason inglorious to them, it is
because most men have very little knowledge
and very little taste.

The world has phantoms more specious, life
has charms more capable of seducing a generous
heart, and of imposing on a liberal mind. I
put these into three classes. In the first I put
the advantages of science — in the second the
pleasures of friendship — in the third the privi
leges, I mean the temporal privileges of virtue
and heroism. I will endeavour to unmask these
three figures, and to prove, that the very dis
positions which should contribute most to the
pleasure of life, mental abilities, tenderness of
heart, rectitude and delrcacy of conscience, are
actually dispositions which contribute most of
all to imbitter life.

I. If ever possessions could make man happy,
Solomon must certainly have been the happiest
of mankind. Imagine the most proper and the ,
most effectual means of acquiring knowledge,
joined to an avidity to obtain it, both were
united in the person of this prince. We indi
viduals, when we have received from Heaven
abilities for science, we generally want assist
ance to cultivate them. What individual is
able to send emissaries into distant climes to
make observations to perfect geography, physic,
astronomy, botany, navigation? An individual,
to make collections, to ascertain reports, to

procure materials, must carry on works, which,
in a word, more properly belong to the beasts
of burden of the learned world than to himself,
whose time should be better employed in exer
cising, and improving his own natural abilities.
An individual seldom has it in his power to
gain access to the museums of great men, and
to procure the productions of their pens, or to
consult the oracles that proceed from their
mouths. An individual is often condemned to
turn the studies that naturally employ his libe
ral mind into a mercenary trade, the only
means of providing bread for himself and hi«
family. In some protestant states youth are
but half educated for want of endowments, and
people choose rather to pluck the unripe fruits
of the finest genius than to furnish him with
the means of bringing them to perfection. A
king, a rich king like Solomon, is free from all
these difficulties. He has all the assistance
necessary to the cultivation of his mind, and
to the full gratification of his avidity for science.
He says, what perhaps you have not sufficiently
observed, " I turned myself to behold wisdom,"
that is, I applied myself to the sciences, and
" what can the man do that cometh after the
king?" chap. ii. 12. That is, who will ever
have such innumerable means of acquiring and
perfecting knowledge as those with which royal
advantages furnish me?

Accordingly the world was filled with the
science of this prince, and his science has given
occasion to a great many fabulous histories.
To him has been attributed a book entitled the
" Contradiction of Solomon," condemned by
Pope Gelasius, and other works named " In-
chantments, clavicula, necromancy, ideas, neo-
meenia, letters to king Hiram." Some ancient
fathers thought that the pagan philosophers
had read his writings, and that Aristotle in
particular had taken his " History of animals"
from the works of this prince. Josephus says,
that he composed a "book of charms" to heal
the incurable, and that one Eleazar, a Jew,
had found in it a secret, by which he freed a
person from possession, a reverie mentioned by
Origen. The schoolmen have agitated a great
many indiscreet questions concerning the
science of Solomon, and have inquired, whe
ther he were more learned than the angels and
the Virgin Mary; and they have persuaded
themselves not only that he was a great poet,
a great physician, and a great astronomer, but
also that he understood all the mysteries of the
theology of the schools, and was well acquaint
ed with the doctrine of transubstantiation.

We have better evidence of the science of
Solomon than these visionaries. The Scrip
ture itself informs us, that God "gave him a
wise and an understanding heart, so that there
was none like him before, neither after him
should any arise like unto him," 1 Kings iii.
12; that he was " wiser," that is a greater phi
losopher, " than all the children of the east
country, and all the Egyptians," chap. iv. 30,
31. By the children of the east we understand
the Arabian philosophers, Chaldeans, and the
Persians, so famous for their erudition, and
particularly for their profound knowledge of
astronomy. He was wiser than all. the -Egyp
tians, that is, the most consummate doctors of
Egypt, a country famous in the time of Moses

68

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

[SER. LXi

for its literature, called by the pagans the mo
ther of arts, and who boasted that they first of
all men knew how to take dimensions of the
stars, and to calculate their motions, as Macro-
bius, Diodorus of Sicily, and many other au
thors affirm. The Scripture says that Solomon
was " wiser than Ethan, Heman, Chalcol, and
Darda:" names which the Jews understand in
a mystical sense, meaning by Ethan Abraham,
by Heman Moses, and Chalcol Joseph. The
Scripture says farther, that he composed
"three thousand proverbs, and a thousand and
five songs; that he spake of trees, from the ce
dar tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hys
sop, that springeth out of the wall, also of
beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things,
and of fishes," ver. 32, 33. Some of these
works are a part of the canon of Scripture, but
the rest are lost.

Now what says this great man concerning
science? He acknowledges indeed that it was
preferable to ignorance, " the wise man's eyes,"
says he, " are in his head," that is, a man of
education is in possession of some prudential
maxims to regulate his life, whereas an illite
rate man " walketh in darkness:" but yet says
he "it happeneth even to rne, as it happeneth
to the fool, and why was I then wise?" ver. 15.
And again, " the eye is not satisfied with see
ing, nor the ear filled with hearing; for in
much wisdom is much grief, and he that in-
creaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow," chap.
i. 8. 18. So again, in another place, after he
had proposed some rules for the government
of life, he adds, " My son be admonished by
these, for of making many books there is no
end, and much study is a weariness of the
flesh," chap. xii. 12. I wish I could weigh
every expression. Observe however two im
perfections of science.

1. Observe first the little progress made in
science by those who pursue it to the highest
pitch. As they advance in this immense field
they discover, shall I say new extents, or new
abysses, which they can never fathom. The
more they nourish themselves with this rich
pasture, the more keen do their appetites be
come. " The eye is never satisfied with see
ing, nor the ear with hearing, and of making
many books there is no end."

2. Remark next the little justice done in the
world to such as excel most in science. " He
that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow,
and it happeneth even to me as it happeneth
to a fool." Yes! after you have spent all your
youth, after you have impaired your health,
after you have spent your fortune to improve
your own mind, and to enable you to improve
those of other men, " it will happen to you
even as it happeneth to a fool." You will be
told, that sciences have nothing in them that
deserve the attention of a man of quality. A
man of mean extraction, who carries himself
like a lord, will tell you that a man of birth
ought to aspire at something more noble than
meditating on questions of law, studying cases
of conscience, and explaining holy Scripture.
You will be told, that there is not half the
knowledge required to sparkle in political bo
dies, and to decide on a bench the lives, and
fortunes, and honours of mankind. Presump
tuous youths will judge, and without appeal

condemn your discourses and your publications,
and will pronounce with decisive tone this is
not solid, that is superficial! The superiority of
your understanding will raise up against you a
world of ignorant people, who will say, that
you corrupt the youth, because you would
guard them against prejudice; that you stab
orthodoxy, because you endeavour to heal the
wounds which pedantry and intolerance have
given it; that you trouble society, because you
endeavour to purify morality, and to engage
the great as well as the small, magistrates as
well as people, to submit to its holy laws.
They will prefer before you, both in the state
and in the church, novices who are hardly fit
to be your disciples.

Blessed idiots! You, who surrounded with a
circle of idiots like yourselves, having first
stupified yourselves with your own vanity, are
now intoxicated with the incense offered your
admirers; you, who, having collected a few
bombastic phrases, are spreading the sails of
your eloquence, and are bound for the ocean
of glory: you, whose sublime nonsense, stale
common-places, and pedantic systems, have
acquired you such a reputation for learning
and erudition as is due only to real merit: your
condition seems to me often preferable to that
of first-rate geniuses, and most accomplished
scholars! Ah! " Wisdom is vanity and vexa
tion of spirit — of making many books there is
no end — it happeneth even to me as it happen
eth to the fool — there is no remembrance cf
the wise more than of the fool, for all shall be
forgotten — therefore I hated life, because the
work that is wrought under the sun is grievous
unto me."

2. The second disposition, which seems as if
it would contribute much to the pleasure of
life, but which often embitters it, is tenderness of
heart. Let the sacred names of friendship and
tenderness" never come out of some mouths; let
them never be used by profane people to ex
press certain connexions, which far from hav
ing the reality have not even the appearance
of rational sensibility! Would you give these
names to such vague associations as are formed
only because you are a burden to yourselves;
to connexions in which the sentiments of the
heart have no share, in which nothing is in
tended except the mutual performance of some
capricious customs or the assuaging of some
criminal passions, to the impetuosity of which
you like brute beasts are given up? Would
you give these names to those unpleasant in
terviews, in which while you visit, you inward
ly groan under the necessity of visiting, in
which the mouth protests what the heart de
nies, in which, while you outwardly profess to
be affected with the misfortunes of another,
you consider them inwardly with indifference
and insensibility, and while you congratulate
them on the prosperity which Providence be
stows, you envy their condition, and sometimes
regard it with a malice and mortification you
cannot help discovering?

By friendship and tenderness, I mean those
affectionate attachments produced by a secret
sympathy, which virtue cements, which piety
sanctifies, which a mutual vigilance over each
other's interests confirms with indissoluble, I
had almost said eternal, bonds. I call a friend

SER. LXL]

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

an inestimable treasure which might for a
while render our abode on earth as happy as
that in heaven, did not that wise Providence,
that formed us for heaven and not for earth,
refuse us the possession of it.

It is clear by the writings of Solomon, and
more so by the history of his life, that his heart
was very accessible to this kind of pleasure.
How often does he write encomiums on faith
ful friends! "A friend," says he, "loveth at
all times, he is a brother born for adversity. A
friend sticketh closer than a brother," Prov.
xvii. 17, and xviii. 24. But where is this
friend, who sticketh closer than a brother?
Where is this friend, who loveth at all times?
One would think the Wise Man drew the por
trait only to save us the useless labour of in
quiring after the original. Perhaps you are in
capable of tasting the bitterness of friendship,
only because you are incapable of relishing the
sweetness of it.

What friends do we make upon earth? At
first lively, eager, full of ardour: presently dull,
and disgusted through the ease with which they
had been gratified. At first soft, gentle, all
condescension and compliance: presently mas
ters, imperious tyrants, rigorously exacting as
a debt an assiduity which can arise only from
inclination, pretending to domineer over our
reason, after they have vitiated our taste. At
first attentive and teachable, while prejudices
conceal their imperfections from us, ready to
acquiesce in any thing while our sentiments
are conformable to their inclinations: but pre- .
sently intractable and froward, not knowing j
how to yield, though we gently point out their
frailty, and endeavour to assist them to correct
it. At first assiduous, faithful, generous, while
fortune smiles on us: but presently, if she be
tray us, a thousand times more faithless, un
grateful, and perfidious than she. What an
airy phantom is human friendship!

I wish, however, through the favour of hea
ven, that what is only an airy nothing to other
men may become a reality in regard to you,
and I will take it for granted, that you have
found what so many others have sought in j
vain. Alas! I must, yes, here I must deplore '
your destiny. Multiplied, so to speak, in the
person of that other self, you are going to mul
tiply your tro ibles. You are going to feel in
that other self ills which hitherto you have felt
only in yourself. You will be disgraced in his
disgraces, sick in his sicknesses. If for a few
years you enjoy one another, as if each were
a whole world, presently, presently death will
cut the bond, presently death will dissolve the
tender ties, and separate your entwined hearts.
Then you will find yoursqlf in a universal soli
tude. You will think the whole world is dead.
The universe, the whole universe, will seem to
you a desert uninhabited, and uninhabitable.
Ah! You who experience this, shall I call you
to attest these sorrowful tuuths? Shall I open
again wounds which time has hardly closed?
Shall I recall those tremulous adieus, those
cruel separations, which cost you so many re
grets and tears? Shall I expose to view bones,
and infection, and putrefaction, the only re
mains of him who was your support in trouble,
your counsel in difficulty, your consolation in
adversity?

Ah, charms of friendship, delicious errors,
lovely chimeras, you are infinitely more capa
ble of deceiving than of satisfying us, of poi
soning life than of sweetening it, and of mak
ing us break with the world than of attaching
us to it! My soul, wouldst thou form unalter
able connexions! Set thy love upon thy trea
sure, esteem God, obey his holy voice, which
from the highest heavens says to thee, " Give
me thine heart!" In God thou wilt find a love
fixed and faithful, a love beyond the reach of
temporal revolutions, which will follow thee,
and fill thee with felicity for ever and ever.

3. In fine, I will venture to affirm, that if
any thing seems capable to render life agree-
ble, and if any thing in general renders it
disagreeable, it is rectitude, and delicacy of
conscience. I know Solomon seems here to
contradict himself, and the author of the Book
of Proverbs seems to refute the author of the
Book of Ecclesiastes. The author of the
Book of Ecclesiastes informs us, that virtue
is generally useless, and sometimes hurtful
in this world: but according to the author of
the Book of Proverbs virtue is most useful in
this world. Hear the author of Ecclesiastes.
" All things have I seen in the days of my vani
ty: there is a just man that perisheth in his
righteousness, arid there is a wicked man that
pfolongeth his life in his wickedness. All
things come alike to all, there is one event to
the righteous and to the wicked; to him that
sacrificeth, and to him that sacrificeth not:
as is the good so is the sinner; and he that
sweareth, as he that feareth an oath, chap,
vii. 15. ix. 2. Hear the author of the Book of
Proverbs. " My son, forget not my law: but
let thy heart keep my commandments; for
length of days, and long life, and peace shall
they add to thee. Let not mercy and truth
forsake thee: bind them about thy neck,
write them upon the table of thine heart. So
shalt thou find favour, and good understand
ing in the sight of God and man. Happy is
the man that findeth wisdom, and the man
that getteth understanding. For the mer
chandise of it is better than the merchandise
of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.
She is more precious than rubies; and all the
things thou canst desire are not to be compar
ed with her," chap. iii. 1 — 3. 13 — 15.

How shall we reconcile these things? To
say, as some do, that the author of Proverbs
speaks of the spiritual rewards of virtue, and
the author of Ecclesiastes of the temporal
state of it, is to cut the knot instead of unty
ing it. Of many solutions, which we have no
time now to examine, there is one that bids
fair to remove the difficulty; that is, that
when the author of the Book of Proverbs
makes temporal advantages the rewards of
virtue, he speaks of some rare periods of so
ciety, whereas the author of Ecclesiastes de
scribes the common general state of things.
Perhaps the former refers to the happy time,
in which the example of the piety of David
being yet recent, and the prosperity of his
successor not having then infected either the
heart of the king or the morals of his subjects,
reputation, riches, and honours, were bestow
ed on good men: but the second, probably,
speaks of what came to pass soon after. In

70

DISGUST WITH LIFE.

[SER. LXI.

the first period life was amiable, and living in
the world delicious: but of the second the
Wise Man says, " I hated life because the
work that is wrought under the sun is griev
ous unto me."

To which of the two periods does the age
in which we live belong? Judge by the de-
pcript ion given by the preacher as he calls him
self.

Then mankind were ungrateful, the public
did not remember the benefits conferred on
them by individuals, and their services were
unrewarded. " There was a little city be
sieged by a great king, who built great bul
warks against it, and there was found in it a
poor wise man, who by his wisdom delivered
the city, yet no man remembered that same
poor man," chap. ix. 14, 15.

Then courtiers, mean and ungrateful, base
ly forsook their old master, and paid their
court to the heir apparent. " I saw all the
living under the sun walking after the child,
who shall stand up next instead of the king,"*
chap. iv. 15.

Then strong oppressed the weak. " I con
sidered all the oppressions that are done un
der the sun, and behold, the tears of such as
were oppressed, and they had no comforters,
and on the side of their oppressors there was
power, but they had no comforter."

Then the courts of justice were corrupt. " I
saw the place of judgment, that wickedness
was there" ... chap. iii. 16. We will
not finish this disagreeable picture. " I hated
life, because the work that is wrought under
the sun is grievous unto roe."

Such is the idea the Wise Man gives us of
the world. Yet these vain and precarious ob
jects, this world so proper to inspire a rational
mind with disgust, this life so proper to excite
hatred in such as know what is worthy of es
teem, this is that which has always fascinated,
and which yet continues to fascinate the bulk
of mankind.

This it was that infatuated the inhabitants
of the old world, who, even after God had
pronounced this dreadful decree, " My spirit
shall not always strive with man, for he is
flesh, and after a hundred and twenty years
he shall be no more,"! forgot themselves in the
pursuit of present pleasure, " They were eat
ing and drinking, marrying and giving in mar
riage, until the day that the flood came, and
took them all away," Matt. xxiv. 38, 39.

This was what bewitched the whole hea
then world, who lived " without hope, and
without God in the world," Eph. ii. 12.

This was what enchanted that highly favour
ed nation, which God distinguished from the
rest of the world, and to which he gave his
laws, and intrusted his prophecies, yet they
"forsook the fountain of living waters, and

* The sense given to this passage by our author is
agreeable both to the French version, and to the origi
nal. J} al oui tous les vivuns qui marchent sous le so-
leel apres l} enfant, qui est la seconde personrte qui doit
etre en la place du rot. Per puerum secundum intellige,
regis filium et hxredem, quod a rege secundus est, ac
post eum regnaturus. Poli. Synops. in loc.

t Gen. vi. 3. The sense given by Mr. Saurin is that of
many commentators, and seems preferable to our English
text, which is obscure. Accipiuut de spatio pceniteutiae
isli IE tat i coucesso, &.C.

hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that
can hold no water," Jer. ii. 13.

This was what influenced Christians, more
inexcusable in this respect than Jews and Pa
gans,, because their religion breathes nothing
but disgust with the world, and alienation
from the idols of life: and yet they are as
much in love with worldly splendour, as eager
in pursuit of wealth, as much intoxicated
with diversions, gaming, amusements, and dis
sipations, as ever Jews and Pagans could pos
sibly be.

This was the charm that operated on your
ancestors; on those who governed the state
before you, magistrates: on those who ascend
ed this pulpit before you, ministers: on those
who attended the worship of God in this place
before you, Christian people: all these, except
a few, followed the multitude, ran, with the
world, to the same excess of riot, and made
the world their god, just as we all, except a
few, yet make the world our god, yet follow
the multitude, yet run with the wicked, to the
same excess of riot.

God, in order to undeceive mankind, and to
dissolve the charms that fascinated their eyes,
often showed them the world in its true light.
He often added extraordinary ills to the ordinary
calamities of life: he made winds his angels,
and flaming fires his ministers," Ps. civ. 4; he
sent war, mortality, flaming eruptions, pesti
lence, and earthquakes: in a word, he often
visited them, as he yet visits us, and with the
same design. To them he says, as he yet says
to us, " Love not the world, neither the things
that are in the world. Vanity of vanities, all
is vanity. Fear God, and keep his command
ments, for this is the whole duty of man," 1
John ii. 15; Eccles. i. 2, and xiii. 13. All this
was useless, just as it is now. Then man
kind made a god of the world, and so they
continue to do.

My brethren, taste is not subject to argu
ment, and if life seems to you supremely ami
able in spite of all the imperfections and sins
that imbitter it, in vain do I stand here de
scribing it to you. However, condescend at
least to see whither every living thing is tend
ing; and allow me to perform the duty of this
day, which requires me to treat of the dying and
the dead. A modern author has published a
book with this singular title, " Subterranean
Rome," a title full of instruction and truth,
a title that may serve to teach that living
haughty city, that there is another Rome
dead and buried, a natural image of what the
present Rome must shortly be. Such an ob
ject I present to you. I present you your re
public, not the republic you see composed of
living magistrates, generals, and heads of fami
lies; this is supeificial, the surface of your re
public: but I would fix your eyes on an interior
subterranean republic. There is a state under
your feet. Go down, go into the cells under
the earth. Lift up the lids of the coffins.
What do you see there, what have you found
there? My God! What inhabitants! What
citizens! What a republic!

This is not all. Go farther. Carry your
eyes beyond these caverns. Exercise that
faith which gives substance to things not seen.
Think of the souls which once animated this

SER. LXIL]

THE PASSIONS.

71

dust, and ashes, and bones. Where are they?
Some are in a state of felicity, others in depths
of misery. Some in the bosom of God, others
in prison with devils. Some drinking of rivers
of pleasures for evermore, others having their
portion in the lake of fire, the smoke rising
up for ever and ever, Ps. xxxvi. 8, and xvi.
11; and Rev. xix. 3. To say all in one word,
some for abandoning themselves to the world
are suffering such punishments as the world
inflicts on its slaves: and others for devoting
themselves to God, are receiving such rewards
as God bestows on his servants. May this
contrast penetrate, affect, and transform you
all! And thou, great God, give weight to our
exhortations, in order to give success to our
benedictions!

I gladly embrace the opportunity of assist
ing at this solemnity, of coming to you, my
dear brethren, at this auspicious season, and of
preaching to you, now that it is allowable to
open the bottom of a heart always full of most
respectful affection for this city and this church.*
Receive my good wishes as affectionately as
they are dictated.

Magistrates, to whom Providence has com
mitted the reins of government, you are above
our benediction. But we are ministers of a
Master who governs all mankind, and from that
source of splendour, magnificence, and wealth,
we derive the benedictions, which we diffuse
on your august heads. May God inspire you
with that elevation of mind, that magnanimity,
and holy ambition, which impel magistrates,
with whom he has intrusted the sword of jus
tice, to found all their deliberations and decrees
on equity! May God inspire you with such
charity, condescension, and affability, as may
blend the parent with the master! May God
inspire you with such humility and self-denial
as incline Christian magistrates to lay their
power at the feet of the great Supreme, and to
place their glory in rendering to God a faithful
account of their administration! Great will
that account be. You are, to a certain degree,
responsible both for the temporal and eternal
happiness of this people. The eternal happi
ness of a people often depends on the conduct
of their governors, on the care they take to
restrain licentiousness, to suppress scandalous
books, to make solemn festivals observed, to
procuie wise, zealous, and faithful ministers
for the church. Magistrates, who enter into
these noble designs, have a right to expect from
God all the assistance necessary to effect them.
To thee, Almighty God, we address our prayers
for such assistance for these illustrious persons!
O that our petitions may enter heaven, and
our prayers be heard and answered!

Ministers, my dear coadjutors in the great
work of salvation, successors of the apostles in
the work of the ministry " for the edifying of
the body of Christ!11 Eph. iv. 12, God has set
narrow limits to what the world calls our prefer
ment and fortune. The religion we profess I
dues not allow us to aspire after such high-
sounding titles, eminent posts, and splendid
equipages, as confound the minister of tempo
ral kings with the ministers of that Jesus whose
" kingdom is not of this world:" but what we

* Of Rotterdam.

lose in regard to the glittering advantages of
the world, we gain in regard to real and sub
stantial advantages; if we ourselves understand
that religion which we teach others, and if we
feel the spirit of that calling, with which God
has honoured us. May God grant, may the
God who has honoured us, grant us such
knowledge and virtue as are essential to the
worthy discharge of our duty! May he bestow
all that intrepidity, which is always necessary
to resist the enemies of our holy reformation,
and sometimes those, who under the name of
reformed, endeavour to counteract and destroy
it! May he support us under the perpetual
contradictions we meet with in the course of
our ministry, and invigorate us with the hopes
of those high degrees in glory, which await
such as "turn many to righteousness, who
shall shine as the stars for ever and ever!"
Dan. xii. 3.

Merchants, you are the pillars of this re
public, and you are the means of our enjoying
prosperity and plenty. May God continue to
bless your commerce! May he cause winds
and waves, nature, and every element, to unite
in your favour! Above all, may God teach
you the holy skill of placing your " heart where
your treasure is;" of making yourselves friends
of the " mammon of unrighteousness," Matt,
vi. 21; Luke xvi. 9; of sanctifying your pros
perity by your charity, especially on such a
day as this, in which we should make con
science of paying a homage of love to a " God
who is love," and whose goodness has brought
us to see this day.

Fathers and mothers of families, with whom
I have the honour and happiness of joining
myself, may God help us to consider our chil
dren not merely as formed for this world, but
as intelligent and immortal beings made for
eternity! May God grant, we may be infi
nitely more desirous to see them happy in
heaven than prosperous on earth! May God
continue these children, so necessary to the
pleasure of our lives, to our last moments!
God grant, if we be required to give them up
to the grave, we may have all the submission
that is necessary to sustain such violent shocks.

My brethren, this article cuts the thread of
my discourse. May God answer all the prayers
I have uttered, and that far greater numbej
which I have suppressed! Amen.

SERMON LXIL

THE PASSIONS.

•1 PETER ii. 2.

Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and
pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war
against the soul.

THE words you have heard, my brethren,
offer four subjects of meditation to your minds.
First, the nature of the passions — secondly, the
disorders of them — thirdly, the remedies to be
applied — and lastly, the motives that engage
us to subdue them. In the first place we will
give you a general idea of what the apostle
calls "fleshly lusts," or in modern style the

72

THE PASSIONS.

[Sun. LXH

passions. We will examine secondly, the war
which they wage "against the soul." Our
third part will inform you of the means of ab
staining from these fleshly lusts. And in the
last place we will endeavour to make you feel
the power of this motive, " as strangers and
pilgrims," and to press home this exhortation
of the apostle, " Dearly beloved, I beseech you
as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly
lusts, which war against the soul."

I. In order to understand the nature of the
passions, we will explain the subject by a few
preliminary remarks.

1. An intelligent being ought to love every
thing that can elevate, perpetuate, and make
him happy; and to avoid whatever can degrade,
confine, and render him miserable. This, far
from being a human depravity, is a perfection
of nature. Man has it in common with celes
tial intelligences, and with God himself. This
reflection removes a false sense, which the
language of St. Peter may seem at first to con
vey, as if the apostle meant by eradicating
" fleshly lusts" to destroy the true interests of
man. The most ancient enemies of the Christian
religion loaded it with this reproach, because
they did not understand it; and some super
ficial people, who know no more of religion
than the surface, pfetend to render it odious
by the same means. Under pretence that the
Christian religion forbids ambition, they say it
degrades man, and under pretence that it fbr-
bids misguided self-love, they say it makes man
miserable. A gross error! A false idea of
Christianity! If the gospel humbles, it is to
elevate us; if it forbids a self-love ill-directed,
it is in order to conduct us to substantial happi
ness. By " fleshly lusts," St. Peter does not
mean such desires of the heart as put us on
aspiring after real happiness and true glory.

2. An intelligent being united to a body, and
lodged, if I may speak so, in a portion of matter
under this law, that according to the divers
motions of this matter he shall receive sensa
tions of pleasure or pain, must naturally love
to excite within himself sensations of pleasure,
and to avoid painful feelings. This is agreea
ble to the institution of the Creator. He in
tends, for reasons of adorable wisdom, to pre
serve a society of mankind for several ages on
earth. To accomplish this design, he has so
ordered it, that what contributes to the support
of the body shall give the soul pleasure, and
that which would dissolve it would give pain,
so that by these means we may preserve our
selves. Aliments are agreeable; the dissolution
of the parts of our bodies is painful; love, hatred,
and anger1, properly understood, and exercised
to a certain degree, are natural and fit. The
stoics, who annihilated the passions, did not
know man, and the schoolmen, who to comfort
people under the gout or the stone, told them
that a rational man ought not to pay any re
gard to what passed in his body, never made
many disciples among wise men. This observa
tion affords us a second clew to the meaning
of the apostle: at least it gives us a second pre
caution to avoid an error. By " fleshly lusts"
he does not mean a natural inclination to pre
serve the body and the ease of life; he allows
love, hatred, and anger, to a certain degree,
and as far as the exercise of them does not

prejudice a greater interest. Observe well this
last expression, as far as may be without preju
dice to a greater interest. The truth of our
second reflection depends on this restriction.

3. A being composed of two substances, one
of which is more excellent than the other; a
being placed between two interests, one of
which is greater than the other, ought, when
these two interests clash, to prefer the more
noble before the less noble, the greater interest
before the less. This third principle is a third
clew to what St. Peter calls " lusts," or pas
sions. Man has two substances, and two in
terests. As far as he can without prejudicing
his eternal interest he ought to endeavour to
promote his temporal interest: but when the
two clash he ought to sacrifice the less to the
greater. " Fleshly lusts" is put for what is ir
regular and depraved in our desires, and what
makes us prefer the body before the soul, a
temporal before an eternal interest. That this
is the meaning of the apostle is clear from his
calling these passions or " lusts fleshly." What
is the meaning of this word? The Scripture
generally uses the word in two senses. Some
times it is literally and properly put for flesh,
and sometimes it signifies sin. St. Peter calls
the passions " fleshly" in both these senses; in
the first, because some come from the body, as
voluptuousness, anger, drunkenness; and in the
second, because they spring from our depravity.
Hence the apostle Paul puts among the
works of the flesh both those which have
their seat in the body, and those which have
in a manner no connexion with it. " Now the
works of the flesh are these, adultery, laseivs-
ousness, idolatry, heresies, envyings." Ac
cording to this the " works of the flesh" are not
only such as are seated in the flesh (for envy
and heresy cannot be of this sort,) but all de
praved dispositions.

This is a general idea of the passions: but
as it is vague and obscure, we will endeavour
to explain it more distinctly, and with this
view we will show — first what the passions do
in the mind — next what they do in the senses
— thirdly, what they are in the imagination —
and lastly, what they are in the heart. Four
portraits of the passions, four explications of
the condition of man. In order to connect the
matter more closely, as we show you what
" fleshly lusts" are in these four views, we will
endeavour to convince you that in these four
respects they " war against the soul." The
second part of our discourse therefore, which
was to treat of the disorders of the passions,
will be included in the first, which explains
their nature.

1 . The passions produce in the ntind a strong
attention to whatever can justify and gratify
them. The most odious objects may be so
placed as to appear agreeable, and the most
lovely objects so as to appear odious. There
is no absurdity so palpable but it may be made
to appear likely; and there is no truth so clear
but it may be made to appear doubtful. A
passionate man fixes all the attention of his
mind on such sides of objects as favour his pas
sion, and this is the source of innumerable false
judgings, of which we are every day witnesses
and authors.

If you observe all the passions, you will find

SEE. LXII.]

THE PASSIONS.

73

they have all this character. What is vengeance
in the mind of a vindictive man? It is a fixed
attention to all the favourable lights in which
vengeance may be considered; it is a continual
study to avoid every odious light in which the
subject may be placed. On the one side there
is a certain deity in thn world, who has made
revenge a law. This d)ity is worldly honour,
and at the bar of this judge to forget injuries is
mean, and to pardon them cowardice. On the
other side vengeance disturbs society, usurps
the office of a magistrate, and violates the pre
cepts of religion. A dispassionate man, ex
amining without prejudice this question, Ought
I to revenge the injury I have received? would
weigh all these motives, consider each apart,
and all together, and would determine to act
according as the most just and weighty rea
sons should determine him: but a revengeful
man considers none but the first, he pays no
attention to the last; he always exclaims my
honour, my honour; he never says my religion
and my salvation.

What is hatred? It is a close attention to a
man's imperfections. Is any man free? Is
any man so imperfect as to have nothing good
in him? Is there nothing to compensate his
defects? This man is not handsome, but he is
wise: his genius is not lively, but his heart is
sincere: he cannot assist you with money, but
he can give you much good advice, supported
by an excellent example: he is not either prince,
king, or emperor, but he is a man, a Christian,
a believer, and in all these respects he deserves
esteem. The passionate man turns away his
eyes from all these advantageous sides, and at
tends only to the rest. Is it astonishing that
he hates a person, in whom he sees nothing
but imperfection? Thus a counsellor opens
and sets forth his cause with such artifice that
law seems to be clearly on his side; he forgets
one fact, suppresses one circumstance, omits to
draw one inference, which being brought for
ward to view entirely change the nature of the
subject, and his client loses his cause. In the
same manner, a defender of a false religion
always revolves in his mind the arguments that
seem to establish it, and never recollects those
which subvert it. He will curtail a sentence,
cut off what goes before, leave out what follows,
and retain only such detached expressions as
seem to countenance his error, but which in
connexion with the rest would strip it of all
probability. What is still more singular is,
that love to true religion, that love, which,
under the direction of reason, opens a wide field
of argument and evidence, engages us in this
sort of false judging, when we give ourselves
up to it through passion or prejudice.

This is what the passions do in the mind,
and it is easy to comprehend the reason St.
Peter had to say in this view, " fleshly lusts
war against the soul." Certainly one of the
noblest advantages of a man is to reason, to
examine proofs and weigh motives, to consider
an object on every side, to combine the various
arguments that are alleged either for or against
a proposition, in order on these grounds to
regulate our ideas and opinions, our hatred and
our love. The passionate man renounces this
advantage, he never reasons in a passion, his
VOL. II.— 10

mind is limited, his soul is in chains, his " fleshly
passions war against his soul."

Having examined the passions in the mind,
let us consider them in the senses. To com
prehend this, recollect what we just now said,
that the passions owe their origin to the Crea
tor, who instituted them for the purpose of
preserving us. When an object would injure
health or life, it is necessary to our safety, that
there should be an emotion in our senses to
affect a quick escape from the danger; fear
does this. A man struck with the idea of sud
den danger has a rapidity which he could not
have in a tranquil state, or during a cool trial
of his power. It is necessary, when an enemy
approaches to destroy us, that our senses should
so move as to animate us with a power of re
sistance. Anger does this, for it is a collection
of spirits .... but allow me to borrow here
the words of a modern philosopher, who has
admirably expressed the motions excited by the
passions in our bodies. " Before the sight of
an object of passion," says he, " the spirits
were diffused through all the body to preserve
every part alike, but on the appearance of this
new object the whole system is shaken; the
greater part of the animal spirits rush into all
the exterior parts of the body, in order to put
it into a condition proper to produce such mo
tions as are necessary to acquire the good, or
to avoid the evil now present. If it happen
that the power of man is unequal to his wants,
these same spirits distribute themselves so as
to make him utter mechanically certain words
and cries, and so as to spread over his counte
nance and over the rest of his body an air
capable of agitating others with the same pas
sion with which he himself is moved. For as
men and other animals are united together by
eyes and ears, when any one is agitated he
necessarily shakes all others that see and hear
him, and naturally produces painful feelings in
their imaginations, which interest them in his
relief. The rest of the spirits rush violently
into the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the
other vitals, in order to lay all these parts under
contribution, and hastily to derive from them
as quick as possible the spirits necessary for the
preservation of the body in these extraordinary
efforts."* Such are the movements excited by
the passions in the senses, and all these to a
certain degree are necessary for the preserva
tion of our bodies, and are the institutions of
our Creator: but three things are necessary to
preserve order in these emotions. First, they
must never be excited in the body without the
direction of the will and the reason. Secondly,
they must always be proportional, I mean, the
emotion of fear, for example, must never be,
except in sight of objects capable of hurting
us; the emotion of anger must never be, except
in sight of an enemy, who actually has both
the will and the power of injuring our well-
being. And thirdly, they must always stop
when and where we will they should. When
the passions subvert this order, they violate
three wise institutes of our Creator.

The emotions excited by the passions in our
senses are not free. An angry man is carried

Malebranche, Recherche de la verite 1. 5. c. 3.

74

THE PASSIONS.

LXII.

beyond himself in spite of himself. A volup
tuous man receives a sensible impression from
an exterior object, and in spite of all the dic
tates of reason throws himself into a flaming
fire that consumes him.

The emotions excited by the passions in our
senses are not proportional; I mean, that a
timorous man, for example, turns as pale at the
sight of a fanciful as of a real danger; he some
times fears a phantom and a substance alike.
A man " whose god is his belly," feels his
appetite as much excited by a dish fatal to his
health as by one necessary to support his
strength, and to keep him alive.

The emotions excited by the passions in our
senses do not obey the orders of our will. The
movement is an overflow of spirits which no
reflections can restrain. It is not a gentle fire
to give the blood a warmth necessary to its
circulation; it is a volcano pouring out its flame
all liquid and destructive on every side. It is
not a gentle stream, purling in its proper bed,
meandering through the fields, and moistening,
refreshing, and invigorating them as it goes:
but it is a rapid flood, breaking down all its
banks, carrying every where mire and mud,
sweeping away the harvest, subverting hills and
trees, and carrying away every thing on all
sides that oppose its passage. This is what
the passions do in the senses, and do you not
conceive, my brethren, that in this second re
spect they " war against the soul?"

They " war against the soul" by the disorders
they introduce into that body, which they ought
to preserve They dissipate the spirits, weaken
the memory, wear out the brain. Behold those
trembling hands, those discoloured eyes,' that
body bent and bowed down to the ground;
these are the effects of violent passions. When
the body is in such a state, it is easy to con
ceive, that the soul suffers with it. The union
between the two is so close that the alteration
of the one necessarily alters the other. When
the capacity of the soul is absorbed by painful
sensations, we are incapable of attending to
truth. If the spirits, necessary to support us in
meditation, be dissipated, we can no longer
meditate. If the brain, which must be of a
certain consistence to receive impressions of
objects, has lost that consistence, it can recover
it no more.

They " war against the soul" by disconcert
ing the whole economy of man, and by making
him consider such sensations of pleasure as
Providence gave him only for the sake of en
gaging him to preserve his body as a sort df
supreme good, worthy of all his care and atten
tion for its own sake.

They " war against the soul" because they
reduce it to a state of slavery to the body, over
which it ought to rule. Is any thing more
unworthy of an immortal soul than to follow
no other rule of judging than an agitation of
the organs of the body, the heat of the blood,
the motion of animal spirits? And does not
this daily happen to a passionate man? A man,
who reasons fairly when his senses are tranquil,
does he not reason like an idiot when his senses
are agitated? Cool and dispassionate, he thinks,
he ought to eat and drink only what is neces
sary to support his health and his life, at most
to " receive with thanksgiving" such innocent

pleasures as religion allows him to enjoy: but
when his senses are agitated, his taste becomes
dainty, and he thinks he may glut himself with
food, drown himself in wine, and give himself
up without reserve to all the excesses of volup
tuousness. When his senses were cool and
tranquil, he thought it sufficient to oppose pre
cautions of prudence against the designs of an
enemy to his injury: but when his senses are
agitated, he thinks, he ought to attack him,
fall on him, stab him, kill him. When he was
cool, he was free, he was a sovereign: but now
that his senses are agitated, he is a subject, he
is a slave. Base submission! Unworthy slavery!
We blush for human nature when we see it in
such bondage. Behold that man, he has as
many virtues, perhaps, more than most men.
Examine him on the article of good breeding.
He perfectly understands, and scrupulously
observes all the laws of it. Examine him on
the point of disinterestedness. He abounds in
it, and to see the manner in which he gives,
you would say, he thought he increased his
fortune by bestowing it in acts of benevolence.
Examine him concerning religion. He re
spects the majesty of it, he always pronounces
the name of God with veneration, he never
thinks of his works without admiration, or his
attributes without reverence or fear. Place
this man at a gaming table, put the dice or the
cards in his hand, and you will know him no
more; he loses all self-possession, he forgets
politeness, disinterestedness, and religion, he
insults his fellow-creatures, and blasphemes his
God. His soul teems with avarice, his body
is distorted, his thoughts are troubled, his tem
per is changed, his countenance turns pale, his
eyes sparkle, his mouth foams, his spirits are in
a flame, he is another man, no, it is not a man,
it is a wild beast, it is a devil.

We never give ourselves up thus to our senses
without feeling some pleasure, and what is very
dreadful, this pleasure abides in the memory,
makes deep traces in the brain, in a word, im
prints itself on the imagination: and this leads
us to our third article, in which we are to
consider what the passions do in the imagi
nation.

If the senses were excited to act only by the
presence of objects; if the soul were agitated
only by the action of the senses, one single
mean would suffice to guard us from irregular
passions; that would be to flee from the object
that excites them; but the passions produce
other disorders, they leave deep impressions on
the imagination. When we give ourselves up
to the senses, we feel pleasure, this pleasure
strikes the imagination, and the imagination
thus struck with the pleasure it has found, re
collects it, and solicits the passionate man to
return to objects that made him so happy.

Thus old men have sometimes miserable re
mains of a passion, which seems to suppose a
certain constitution, and which should seem to
be extinct, as the constitution implied is no
more: but the recollection that such and such
objects had been the cause of such and such
pleasures is dear to their souls; they love to
remember them, they make them a part of all
their conversations; they drew flattering por
traits, and by recounting their past pleasures
indemnify themselves for the prohibition, uu-

SER. LXIL]

THE PASSIONS.

75

der which old age has laid them. For the
same reason it is, that a worldling, who has
plunged himself into all the dissipations of life,
finds it so difficult to renounce the world when
he comes to die. Indeed a body borne down
with illness, a nature almost extinct, senses
half dead, seem improper habitations of love
to sensual pleasure; and yet imagination struck
with past pleasure tells this skeleton, that the
world is amiable, that always when he went
into it he enjoyed a real pleasure, and that, on
the contrary, always when he performed reli
gious exercises he felt pain; and this lively, im
pression gives such a man a present aversion
to religion; it incessantly turns his mind to
wards the objects of which death is about to
deprive him, so that, without a miracle of
grace, he can never look towards the objects
of religion with desire and pleasure.

We go farther. We affirm, that the disor
ders of the passions in the imagination far ex
ceed those in the senses; the action of the
senses is limited: but that of the imagination
is boundless, so that the difference is almost as
great as that between finite and infinite, if you
will pardon the expression. A man, who ac
tually tastes pleasure in debauchery, feels this
pleasure, but he does not persuade himself that
he feels it more than he does: but a man, who
indulges his fancy, forms most extravagant
ideas, for imagination magnifies some objects,
creates others, accumulates phantom upon
phantom, and fills up a vast space with ideal
joys, which have no originals in nature. Hence
it comes that we are more pleased with imagi
nary ideas, than with the actual enjoyment of
what we imagine, because imagination having
made boundless promises, it gladdens the soul
with the hope of more to supply the want of
what present objects fail of producing.

O deplorable state of man! The littleness of
his mind will not allow him to contemplate
any object but that of his passion, while it is
present to his senses; it will not allow him then
to recollect the motives, the great motives,
that should impel him to his duty: and when
the object is absent, not being able to offer
it to his senses, he presents it again to his
imagination clothed with new and foreign

charms, deceitful ideas of which make up for
its absence, and excite in him a love more
violent than that of actual possession, when he
felt at least the folly and vanity of it. O horrid
war of the passions against the soul! Shut the
door of your closets against the enchanted ob
ject, it wil] enter with you. Try to get rid of
it by traversing plains, and fields, and whole
countries; cleave the waves of the sea, fly on
the wings of the wind, and try to put between
yourself and your enchantress the deep, the
rolling ocean, she will travel with you, sail
with you, every where haunt you, because
wherever you go you will carry yourself, and
within you, deep in your imagination, the be
witching image impressed.

Let us consider, in fine, the passions in the
heart, and the disorders they cause there. —
What can fill the heart of man? A prophet has
answered this question, and has included all
morality in one point, " my chief good is to
draw near to God," Ps. Ixxiii. 28; but as God
does not commune with us immediately, while

we are in this world, but imparts felicity by
means of creatures, lie has given these creatures
two characters, which being well examined by
a reasonable man, conduct him to the Creator,
but which turn the passionate man aside. On
the one hand, creatures render us happy to a
certain degree, this is their first character: on
the other, they leave a void in the soul, which
they are incapable of filling, this is their second
character. This is the design of God, and this
design the passions oppose. Let us hear a
reasonable man draw conclusions, and let us
observe what opposite conclusions a passionate
man draws.

The reasonable man says, creatures leave a
void in my soul, which they are incapable of
filling: but what effect should this produce in
my heart, and what end had God in setting
bounds so strait to that power of making me
happy, which he communicated to them? It
was to reclaim me to himself, to persuade me
that he only can make me happy; it was to
make me say to myself, my desires are eternal,
whatever is not eternal is unequal to my de
sires; my passions are infinite, whatever is not
infinite is beneath my passions, and God only
can satisfy them.

A passionate man, from the void he finds in
the creatures, draws conclusions directly oppo
site. Each creature in particular is incapable
of making me happy: but could I unite them
all, could I, so to speak, extract the substantial
from all, certainly nothing would be wanting
to my happiness. In this miserable supposition
he becomes full of perturbation, he launches
out, he collects, he accumulates. It is not
enough to acquire conveniences, he must have
superfluities. It is not enough that my name
be known in rny family, and among my ac
quaintance, it must be spread over the whole
city, the province, the kingdom, the four parts
of the globe. Every clime illuminated by the
sun shall know that I exist, and that I have a
superior genius. It is not enough to conquer
some hearts, I will subdue all, and display the
astonishing art of uniting all voices in my fa
vour; men divided in opinion about every thing
else shall agree in one point, that is, to cele
brate my praise. It is not enough to have
many inferiors, I must have no master, no
equal, I must be a universal monarch, and sub-
I due the whole world; and when I shall have
accomplished these vast designs, I will seek
other creatures to subdue, and more worlds to
conquer. Thus the passions disconcert the plan
of God! Such are the conclusions of a heart
infatuated with passion!

The disciple of reason says, creatures contri
bute to render me happy to a certain degree:
but this power is not their own. Gross,
sensible, material beings cannot contribute to
the happiness of a spiritual creature. If crea
tures can augment rny happiness, it is because
God has lent them a power natural only to
himself. God is then the source of felicity,

see elsewhere is only an emanation of
but if the streams be so pure,

and all
his

what is the fountain! If effects be so noble,
what is the cause! If rays be so luminous,
what is the source of light from which they
proceed!
The conclusions of an impassioned man are .

76

THE PASSIONS.

LXII.

directly opposite. Says he, creatures render
me happy to a certain degree, therefore they
are the cause of my happiness, they deserve all
my efforts, they shall be my god. Thus the
passionate man renders to his aliments, his
gold, his silver, his equipage, his horses, the
most noble act of adoration. For what is the
most noble act of adoration? Is it to build
temples' To erect altars? To kill victims?
To sacrifice burnt-offerings? To burn incense?
No. It is that inclination of our heart to union
with God, that aspiring to possess him, that
love, that effusion of soul, which makes us ex
claim, " My chief good is to draw near to God."
This homage the man of passion renders to the
object of his passions, " his god is his belly,"
his " covetousness his idolatry;" and this is
what " fleshly lusts" become in the heart.
They remove us from God, and, by removing
us from him, deprive us of all the good that
proceed? from a union with the supreme good,
ftnd thus make war with every part of our-
aelves, and with every moment of our dura
tion.

War against our reason, for instead of deriv-
T»g, by virtue of a union to God, assistance
necessary to the practice of what reason ap
proves, and what grace only renders practica
ble, we are given up to our evil dispositions,
Mid compelled by our passions to do what tfur
ywn reason abhors.

War against the regulation of life, for instead
of putting on by virtue of union to God, the
'•' easy yoke," and taking up the " light bur
den" which religion imposes, we become slaves
of envy, vengeance and ambition; we are
Weighed down with a yoke of iron, which we
have no power to get rid of, even though we
groan under its intolerable weightiness.

War against conscience, for instead of being
justified by virtue of a union with God, and
having " peace with him through our Lord
Jesus Christ," Rom. v. 1, and feeling that
heaven begun, "joy unspeakable and full of
glory." 1 Pet. i. 8, by following our passions
we become a prey to distracting fear, troubles
without end, cutting remorse, and awful earn
ests of eternal misery.

War on a dying bed, for whereas by being
united to God our death-bed would have be
come a field of triumph, where the Prince of
life, the Conqueror of death would have made
us share his victory, by abandoning ourselves
to our passions, we see nothing in a dying hour
but an awful futurity, a frowning governor, the
bare idea of which alarms, terrifies, and drives
us to despair.

III. We have seen the nature and the disor
ders of the passions, now let us examine what
remedies we ought to apply. In order to pre
vent and correct the disorders, which the pas
sions produce in the mind, we must observe
the following rules.

1. We must avoid precipitance, and suspend
our judgment. It does not depend on us to
have clear ideas of all things: but we have
power to suspend our judgment till we obtain
evidence of the nature of the object before us.
This is one of the greatest advantages of an
intelligent being. A celebrated divine has such
a high idea of this that he maintains this
hyperbolical thesis, that "always when we

mistake, even in things indifferent in them
selves, we sin, becausfe then we abuse our
reason, the use of which consists in never de
termining without evidence."* Though we
suppose this divine has exceeded the matter,
yet it is certain, that a wise man can never
take too much pains to form a habit of not
judging a point, not considering it as useful or
advantageous till after he has examined it on
every side. " Let a man," says a philosopher
of great name, " let a man only pass one year
in the world, hearing all they say, and believ
ing nothing, entering every moment into him
self, and suspending his judgment till truth and
evidence appear, and I will esteem him more
learned than Aristotle, wiser than Socrates,
and a greater man than Plato. "f

2. A man must reform even his education. In
every family the minds of children are turned
to a certain point. Every family has its pre
judice, I had almost said its absurdity; and
hence it comes to pass that people despise the
profession they do not exercise. Hear the
merchant, he will tell you that nothing so much
deserves the attention of mankind as trade, as
acquiring money by every created thing, as
knowing the value of this, and the worth of
that, as taxing, so to speak, all the works of
art, and all the productions of nature. Hear
the man of learning, he will tell you, that the
perfection of man consists in literature, that
there is a difference as essential between a
scholar and a man of no literature, as between
a rational creature and a brute. Hear the
soldier, he will tell you that the man of science
is a pedant who ought to be confined to the
dirt and darkness of the schools, that the mer
chant is the most sordid part of society, and
that nothing is so noble as the profession of
arms. One would think, to hear him talk,
that the sword by his side is a patent for pre
eminence, and that mankind have no need of
any people, who cannot rout an army, cut
through a squadron, or scale a wall. Hear him
who has got the disease of quality; he will tell
you that other men are nothing but reptiles
beneath his feet, that human blood, stained
every where else, is pure only in his veins.
That nobility serves for every thing, for genius,
and education, and fortune, and sometimes
even for common sense and good faith. Hear
the peasant, he will tell you that a nobleman
is an enthusiast for appropriating to himself
the virtues of his ancestors, and for pretending
to find in old quaint names, and in worm-eaten
papers, advantages which belong only to real
and actual abilities. As I said before, each
family has it prejudice, every profession has its
folly, all proceeding from this principle, because
we consider objects only in one point of view
To correct ourselves on this article, we must go
to the source, examine how our minds were
directed in our childhood; in a word, we must
review and reform even our education.

3. In fine, we must, as well as we can,
choose a friend wise enough to know truth, and
generous enough to impart it to others; a man
who will show us an object on every side, when
we are inclined to consider it only on one. I

Elie. Saurin. Reflex, sur la conscien. sect. 2.
Malebranche.

SER. LXII.]

THE PASSIONS.

77

say as well as you can, for to give this rule is
to suppose two things, ,both sometimes alike
impracticable; the one, that such a man can
be found, and the other, that he will be heard
with deference. When we are so happy as to
find this inestimable treasure, we have found a
remedy of marvellous efficacy against the dis
orders which the passions produce in the mind.
Let us make the trial. Suppose a faithful
friend should address one of you in this man
ner. Heaven has united in your favour the
most happy circumstances. The blood of the
greatest heroes animates you, and your name
alone is an encomium. Besides this you have
an affluent fortune, and Providence has given
you abundance to support your dignity, and to
discharge every thing that your splendid sta
tion requires. You have also a fine and acute
genius, and your natural talents are culti
vated by an excellent education. Your health
seems free from the infirmities of life, and if
any man may hope for a long duration here,
you are the man who may expect it. With
all these noble advantages you may aspire
at any thing. But one thing is wanting.
You are dazzled with your own splendour,
and your feeble eyes are almost put out with
the brilliancy of your condition. Your ima
gination struck with the idea of the prince
whom you have the honour to serve, makes
you consider yourself as a kind of royal per
sonage. You have formed your family on the
plan of the court. You are proud, arrogant,
haughty. Your seat resembles a tribunal, and
all your expressions are sentences from which
it is a crime to appeal. As you will never suf
fer yourself to be contradicted, you seem to be
applauded; but a sacrifice is made to your va
nity and not to your merit, and people bow
not to your reason but to your tyranny. As
they fear you avail yourself of your credit to
brave others, each endeavours to oppose you,
and to throw down in your absence the altar
he had erected in your presence, and on which
no incense sincerely offered burns, except that
which you yourself put there.

So much for irregular passions in the mind.
Let us now lay down a few rules for the govern
ment of the senses.

Before we proceed, we cannot help deploring
the misery of a man who is impelled by the
disorders of his senses, and the heat of his
constitution, to criminal passions. Such a man
often deserves pity more than indignation. A
bad constitution is sometimes compatible with
a good heart. We cannot think without trem
bling of an ungrateful man, a cheat, a traitor,
an assassin; for their crimes always suppose
liberty of mind and consent of will: but a
man driven from the post of duty by the heat
of his blood, by an overflow of humours, by
the fermentation and flame of his spirits, often
sins by constraint, and so to speak, protests
against his crime even while he commits it.
Hence we often see angry people become full
of love and pity, always inclined to forgive^ or
always ready to ask pardon; while others cold,
calm, tranquil, revolve eternal hatreds in their
souls, and leave them for an inheritance to
their children.

However, though the irregularity of the
senses diminishes the atrociousuess of the crime,

yet it cannot excuse those who do not make
continual efforts to correct it. To acknowledge
that we are constitutionally inclined to violate
the laws of God, and to live quietly in prac
tices directed by constitutional heat, is to have
the interior tainted. It is an evidence that
the malady which at first attacked only the ex
terior of the man, has communicated itself to
all the frame, and infected the vitals. We
oppose this against the frivolous excuses of
some sinners, who, while they abandon them
selves like brute beasts to the most guilty pas
sions, lay all the blame on the misfortune of
their constitution. They say their will has no
part in their excesses — they cannot change
their constitution — and God cannot justly
blame them for irregularities, which proceeded
from the natural union of the soul with the
body. Indeed they prove by their talk, that
they would be very sorry not to have a consti
tution to serve for an apology for sin, and to
cover the licentiousness of casting off an obli
gation, which the law of God, according to
them, requires of none but such as have re
ceived from nature the power of discharging
it. If these maxims be admitted, what be
comes of the morality of Jesus Christ' WThat
become of the commands concerning mortifi
cation and repentance? But people who talk
thus, intend less to correct their faults than to
palliate them; and this discourse is intended
only for such as are willing to apply means to
free themselves from the dominion of irregu
lar passions.

Certainly the best advice that can be given
to a man whose constitution inclines him to
sin, is, that he avoid opportunities, and flee
from such objects as affect and disconcert him.
It does not depend on you to be unconcerned
in sight of an object fatal to your innocence:
but it does depend on you to keep out of the
way of seeing it. It does not depend on you
to be animated at the sight of a gaining table:
but it does depend on you to avoid such whim
sical places, where sharping goes for merit.
Let us not be presumptuous. Let us make
diffidence a principle of virtue. Let us remem
ber St. Peter, he was fired with zeal, he thought
every thing possible to his love, his presump
tion was the cause of his fall, and many by
following his example have yielded to tempta
tion, and have found the truth of an apocry
phal maxim, " he that loveth danger shall per
ish therein," Eccles. iii. 26.

After all, that virtue which owes its firm
ness only to the want of an opportunity for
vice is very feeble, and it argues very little at
tainment only to be able to resist our passions
in the absence of temptation. I recollect a
maxim of St. Paul, " I wrote unto you not to
company with fornicators," but I did not mean
that you should have no conversation " with
fornicators of this world, for then must ye
needs go out of the world," 1 Cor. v. 9, 10.
Literally, to avoid all objects dangerous to our
passions, " we must go out of the world."
Are there no remedies adapted to the necessity
we are under of living among mankind? Is
there no such thing as correcting, with the as
sistance of grace, the irregularities of our con
stitution, and freeing ourselves from its domin
ion, so that we may be able, if not to seek our

THE PASSIONS.

[SER. LXII.

temptations for the sake of the glory of subdu
ing them, at least to resist them, and not suffer
them to conquer us, when in spite of all our
caution they will attack us? Three remedies
are necessary to our success in this painful un
dertaking; to suspend acts — to flee idleness — to
mortify sense.

We must suspend acts. Let us form a just
idea of temperament or constitution. It con
sists in one of these two things, or in both to
gether; in a disposition of organs in the nature
of animal spirits. For example, a man is an
gry when the organs which serve that passion,
are more accessible than others, and when his
animal spirits are easily heated. Hence it ne-
cessaril}' follows, that two tilings must be done
to correct constitutional anger; the one, the
disposition of the organs must be changed;
and the other, the nature of the spirits musi be
changed, so that on the one hand, the spirits
no longer finding these organs disposed to give
them passage, and on the other hand the spi
rits having lost a facility of taking fire, there
will be within the man none of the revolutions
of sense, which he could not resist when they
were excited.

A suspension of acts changes the disposition
of the organs. The more the spirits enter into
these organs, the more easy is the access, and
the propensity insurmountable; the more acts
of anger there are, the more incorrigible will
anger become; because the more acts of anger
there are, the more accessible will the organs
of anger be, so that the animal spirits will na
turally fall there by their own motion. The
spirits then must be restrained. The bias they
have to the ways to which they have been habi
tuated by the practice of sin must be turned,
and we must always remember a truth often

of the spirits this way rather than that. What
must happen then? We have supposed, that
some organs of a man constitutionally irregu
lar are more accessible than others. When we
are idle, and make no efforts to direct the ani
mal spirits, they naturally take the easiest way,
and consequently direct their own course to
those organs which passion has made easy of
access. To avoid this disorder, we must be
employed, and always employed. This rule
is neither impracticable, nor difficult. We do
n6t mean, that the soul should be always on
the stretch in meditation or prayer. An inno
cent recreation, an easy conversation, agreea
ble exercise, may have each its place in occu
pations of this kind. For these reasons we
applaud those, who make such maxims parts
of the education of youth, as either to teach
them an art, or employ them in some bodily
exercise. Not that we propose this maxim as
it is received in some families, where they think
all the merit of a young gentleman consists in
hunting, riding, or some exercise of that kind;
and that of a young lady, in distinguishing her
self in dancing, music, or needle-work. We
mean, that ^hese employments should be sub
ordinate to others more serious, and more wor
thy of an immortal soul, that they should
serve only for relaxation, so that by thus tak-
ng part in the innocent pleasures of the world,
we may be better prepared to avoid the guilty
pursuits of it.

The thjrd remedy is mortification of the senses,
a remedy which St. Paul always used, " I keep
under rny body, and bring it into subjection," 1
Cor. ix. 27. Few people have such sound notions.
Some casuists have stretched the subject be
yond its due bounds so as to establish this prin
ciple, that sinful man can enjoy no pleasure

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inculcated, that is, that the more acts of sin we | without a crime, because sin having been his

commit the more difficult to correct will habits
of sin become; but that when by taking pains
with ourselves, we have turned the course of
the spirits, they will take different ways, and
this is done by suspending the acts.

It is not impossible to change even the na
ture of our animal spirits. This is done by
suspending what contributed to nourish them
in a state of disorder. What contributes to
the nature of spirits? Diet, exercise, air, the
whole course of life we live. It is very diffi
cult in a discourse like this, to give a full cata
logue of remedies proper to regulate the ani
mal spirits and the humours of the body. I be
lieve it would be dangerous to many people.
Some men are so made, that reflections too ao
curate on this article would be more likely to
increase their vices than to diminish them.
However, there is not one person willing to
turn his attention to this subject who is not
able to become a preacher to himself. Let a
man enter into himself, let him survey the his
tory of his excesses, let him examine all cir
cumstances, let him recollect what passed
within him on such and such occasions, let him
closely consider what moved and agitated him,
and he will learn more by such a meditation,
than all sermons and casuistical books can
teach him.

The second remedy is to avoid idleness.
What is idleness? It is that situation of soul,
in which no effort is made to direct the course

delight, pain ought to be for ever his lot.
This principle may perhaps be probably consi
dered in regard to unregenerate men: but it
cannot be admitted in regard to true Chris
tians. Accordingly, we place among those
who have unsound notions of mortification, all
such as make it consist in vain practices, use
less in themselves, and having no relation to
the principal design of religion, " bodily exer
cises profiting little:" they are "command
ments of men," in the language of Scripture.
But if some having entertained extravagant
notions of mortification, others have restrained
the subject too much. Under pretence that
the religion of Jesus Christ is spiritual, they
have neglected the study and practice of evan
gelical morality: but we have heard the ex
ample of St. Paul, and it is our duty to imi
tate it. We must " keep under the body," and
"bring it into subjection," the senses must be
bridled by violence, innocent things must of
ten be refused them, in order to obtain the
mastery when they require unlawful things;
we must fast, we must avoid ease, because it
tends to effeminacy. All this is difficult, I
grant: but if the undertaking be hazardous,
success will be glorious.* Thirty, forty years,
employed in reforming an irregular constitu
tion, ought riot to be regretted. What a glory
to have subdued the senses! What a glory

* See a beautiful passage of f lato in his eighth book
De legibiu.

SER. LXII.J

THE PASSIONS.

79

to have restored the soul to its primitive supe
riority, to have crucified the "body of sin," to
lead it in triumph, and to destroy, that is to
annihilate it, according to an expression of
Scripture, and so to approach those pure spirits,
in whom the motions of matter can make no
alteration!

The disorders produced by the passions in
the imagination, and against which also we
ought to furnish you with some remedies, are
like those complicated disorders, which require
opposite remedies, because they are the effect
of opposite causes, so that the means em ployed
to diminish one part not unfrequently increase
another. It should seem at first, that the best
remedy which can be applied to disorders in
troduced by the passions into the imagination,
is well to consider the nature of the objects of
the passions, and thoroughly to know the world:
and yet on the other hand, it may truly be said,
that the most certain way of succeeding would
be to know nothing at all about the world. If
you know the pleasures of the world, if you
know by experience the pleasure of gratifying
a passion, you will fall into the misfortune we
wish you to avoid; you will receive bad impres
sions; you will acquire dangerous recollections,
and a seducing memory will be a new occasion
of sin: but if you do not know the pleasures of
the world, you will be likely to form ideas too
flattering of it, you will create images more
beautiful than the originals themselves, and by
the immense value you set upon the victim,
when you are just going to offer it up perhaps
you will retreat, arid not make the sacrifice.
Hence we often see persons whom the super
stition or avarice of their families has in child
hood confined in a nunnery (suppose it were
allowable in other cases, yet in this case done
prematurely,) 1 say, these persons not knowing
the world, wish for its pleasures with more ar
dour than if they had actually experienced
them. So they who have never been in com
pany with the great, generally imagine that
their society is full of charms, that all is plea
sure in their company, and that a circle of rich
and fashionable people sitting in an elegant
apartment is far more lively and animated than
one composed of people of inferior rank, and
middling fortune. Hence also it is, that they,
who, after having lived a dissipated life, have
the raro happiness of renouncing it do so with
more sincerity than others, who never knew the
vanity of such a life by experience. So very
different are the remedies for disorders of the
imagination.

But as in complicated disorders, to which we
have compared them, a wise physician chiefly
attends to the most dangerous complaint, and
distributes his remedies so as to counteract
those which are less fatal, we will observe the
same method on this occasion. Doubtless the
most dangerous way to obtain a contempt for
the pleasures of the world, is to get an experi
mental knowledge of them, in order to detach
ourselves more easily from them by the tho-
ough sense we have of their vanity. We ha
zard a fall by approaching too near, and such
very often is the ascendancy of the world over
us, trial we cannot detach ourselves from it
though we are disgusted with it. Let us en
deavour then to preserve our imagination pure;

let us abstain from pleasures to preclude the
possibility of remembering them; let retirement,
and, if it be practicable, perpetual privacy, from
the moment we enter into the world to the day
we quit it, save us from all bad impressions, se
that we may never know the effects which
worldly objects would produce in our passions
This method, sure and effectual, is useless ana
impracticable in regard to such as have received
bad impressions on their imagination. People
of this character ought to pursue the second
method we mentioned, that is to profit by their
losses, and derive wisdom from their errors.
When you recollect sin, you may remember the
folly and pain of it. Let the courtier whose
imagination is yet full of the vain glory of a
splendid court, remember the intrigues he has
known there, the craft, the injustice, tii<»
treachery, the dark and dismal plans that are
formed and executed there.

I would advise such a man,* when his pas
sions solicit him to sin, to call in the aid of
some other idea to strike and affect his ima
gination. Let him make choice of that out of
the truths of religion which seems most likely
to impress his mind, and let him learn the art
of instantly .opposing impression against im
pression, and image against image; for example,
let him often fix his attention on death, judg
ment, and hell; let him often say to himself, I
must die soon, I must stand before a severe tri
bunal, and appear in the presence of an impar
tial judge; let him go down in thought into that
gulf, where the wicked expiate in eternal tor
ments their momentary pleasures; let hirn think
he hears the sound of the piercing cries of the
victims whom divine justice sacrifices in hells
let him often weigh in his mind the " chains of
darkness" that load miserable creatures in hell;
let him often approach the fire that consumes
them; let hirn, so to speak, scent the smoke that
rises up for ever and ever; let hirn often think
of eternity, and place himself in that awful mo
ment, in which " the angel will lift up his hand
to heaven, and swear by him that liveth for
ever and ever, that there shall be time no lon
ger," Rev. x. 5, 6; and let the numerous re
flections furnished by all these subjects be kept
as corps de reserve, always ready to fly to his
aid, when the enemy approaches to attack him.

In fine, to heal the disorders which the pas
sions produce in the heart, two things must be
done. First, the vanity of all the creatures
must be observed; and this will free us from the
desire of possessing and collecting the whole in
order to fill up the void which single enjoyments
leave. Secondly, we must ascend from crea
tures to the Creator, in order to get rid of the
folly of attributing to the world the perfection
and sufficiency of God.

Let us free our hearts from an avidity for
new pleasures by comprehending all creatures
in our catalogue of vanities. I allow, incon
stancy, and love of novelty are in some sense
rational. It is natural for a being exposed to
trouble to choose to change his condition, and
as that in which he is yields certain trouble, to
try whether another will not be something ea
sier. It is natural to a man who has found
nothing but imperfect pleasure in former enjoy
ments, to desire new objects. The most noble
souls, the greatest geniuses, the largest hearts

80

THE PASSIONS.

[SuR. LXII.

have often the most inconstancy and love of
novelty, because the extent of their capacity
and the space of their wishes make them feel
more than other men, the diminutiveness and
incompetency of all creatures. But the mis
fortune is, man cannot change his situation
without entering into another almost like that
from which he came. Let us persuade our
selves that there is nothing substantial in crea
tures, that all conditions, besides characters of
vanity common to all human things, have some
imperfections peculiar to themselves. If you
rise out of obscurity, you will not have the
troubles of obscurity, but you will have those
of conspicuous stations; you will make talk for
every body, you will be exposed to envy, you
will be responsible to each individual for your
conduct. If you quit solitude, you will not
have the troubles of solitude, but you will have
those of society; you will live under restraint,
you will lose your liberty, inestimable liberty,
the greatest treasure of mankind, you will have
to bear with the faults of all people connected
with you. If heaven gives you a family, you
will not have the troubles of such as have none,
but you will have others necessarily resulting
from domestic connexions; you will multiply
your miseries by the number of your children,
you will fear for their fortune, you will be in
pain about their health, and you will tremble
for fear of their death. My brethren, I repeat
it again, there is nothing substantial in this life.
Every condition has difficulties of its own as
well as the common inanity of all human things.
If, in some sense, nothing ought to surprise us
less than the inconstancy of mankind and their
love of novelty, in another view, nothing ought
to astonish us more, at least there is nothing
more weak and senseless. A man who thinks
to remedy the vanity of earthly things by run
ning from one object to another, is like him,
who, in order to determine whether there be in
a great heap of stones any one capable of nou
rishing him, should resolve to taste them all
one after another. Let us shorten our labour.
Let us put all creatures into one class. Let us
cry, vanity in all. If we determine to pursue
new objects, let us choose such as are capable
of satisfying us. Let us not seek them here
below. They are not to be found in this old
world, which God has cursed. They are in
the " new heavens, and the new earth," which
religion promises. To comprehend all crea
tures in a catalogue of vanities is an excellent
rule to heal the heart of the disorders of passion.
Next we must frequently ascend from crea
tures to the Creator, and cease to consider them
as the supreme good. We intend here a devo
tion of all times, places, and circumstances; for,
my brethren, one great source of depravity in
the most eminent saints is to restrain the spirit
of religion to certain times, places, and circum
stances. There is an art of glorifying God by
exercising religion every where. " Whether ye
eat or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to
the glory of God," 1 Cor. x. 13. Do you enjoy
the pleasures of sense? Say to yourself, God
is the author of this pleasure. The nourish
ment I derive from my food is not necessarily
produced by aliments, they have no natural
power to move my nerves, God has communi
cated it to them; there is no necessary connexion

between the motions of my senses and agreeable
sensations in my soul, it is God who has esta
blished the union between motion and sensa
tion. The particles emitted by this flower
could not necessarily move the nerves of my
smell, it is God who has established this law;
the motion of my smelling nerves cannot natu
rally excite a sensation of agreeable odour in
my soul, it is God who has established this
union; and so of the rest. God is supreme hap
piness, the source from which all the charms
of creatures proceed. He is the light of the
sun, the flavour of food, the fragrance of odours,
the harmony of sounds, he is whatever is capa
ble of producing real pleasure, because he emi
nently possesses all felicity, and because all
kinds of felicity flow from him as their spring.
Because we love pleasure we ought to love
God, from whom pleasure proceeds; because we
love pleasure we ought to abstain from it, when
God prohibits it, because he is infinitely able to
indemnify us for all the sacrifices we make to
his orders. To ascend from creatures to the
Creator is the last remedy we prescribe for the
disorders of the passions. Great duties they
are: but they are founded on strong motives.

Of these St. Peter mentions one of singular
efficacy, that is, that we are " strangers and pil
grims" upon earth. " Dearly beloved, I be
seech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain
from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul."
The believers to whom the apostle wrote this
epistle, were " strangers and pilgrims" in three
senses — as exiles — as Christians — and as mor
tals.

1. As exiles. This epistle is addressed to
such strangers as were scattered throughout
Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithy-
nia. But who were these strangers? Com
mentators are divided. Some think they were
Jews who had been carried out of their country
in divers revolutions under Tiglath Pileser,
Salmaneser, Nebuchadnezzar, and Ptolemy.
Others think they were the Jewish Christians
who fled on account of the martyrdom of Ste
phen. Certain it is these Christians were
strangers and probably exiles for religion. Now
people of this character have special motives to
govern their passions.

Strangers are generally very little beloved in
the place of their exile. Although rational
people treat them with hospitality; though na
ture inspires some with respect for the wretched
of every character; though piety animates some
with veneration for people firm in their religious
sentiments; yet, it must be allowed, the bulk
of the people usually see them with other eyes;
they envy them the air they breathe, and the
earth they walk on; they consider them as so
many usurpers of their rights; and they think,
that as much as exiles partake of the benefits of
government, and the liberty of trade, so much
they retrench from the portion of the natives.

Besides, the people commonly judge of merit
by fortune, and as fortune and banishment sel
dom go together, popular prejudice seldom runs
high in favour of exiles. Jealousy views them
with a suspicious eye, malice imputes crimes to
them, injustice accuses them for public calami
ties we will not enlarge. Let an

inviolable fidelity to the state, an unsuspected
love to government, an unreserved conformity

SER. LXIL]

THE PASSIONS.

81

to religion, silence accusation, and compel, so
to speak, an esteem that is not natural and free.
Moreover, religious exiles have given up a great
deal for conscience, and they must choose either
to lose the reward of their former labours, or to
persevere. A man who has only taken a few
easy steps in religion, if he let loose his passions,
may be supposed rational in this, his life is all
of a piece. He considers present interest as the
supreme good, and he employs himself wholly
in advancing his present interest, he lays down
a principle, he infers a consequence, and he

makes sin produce all possible advantage. An
abominable principle certainly, but a uniform
train of principle and consequence; a fatal ad
vantage in a future state, but a real advantage
in the present: but such a stranger as we have
described, a man banished his country for reli
gion, if he continues to gratify fleshly passions,
is a contradictory creature, a sort of idiot, who
is at one and the same time a martyr to vice
and a martyr to virtue. He has the fatal secret
of rendering both time and eternity wretched,
and arming against himself heaven and earth,
God and Satan, paradise and hell. On the
one hand, for the sake of religion he quits every
thing dear, and renounces the pleasure of his
native soil, the society of his friends, family
connexions, and every prospect of preferment
and fortune; thus he is a martyr for virtue, by
this he renders the present life inconvenient,
and arms against himself the world, Satan, and
hell. On the other hand, he stabs the practical
part of religion, violates all the sacred laws of
austerity, retirement, humility, patience, and
love, all which religion most earnestly recom
mends; by so doing he becomes a martyr for
sin, renders futurity miserable, and arms against
himself God, heaven, and eternity. The same
God who forbade superstition and idolatry, en
joined all the virtues we have enumerated, and
prohibited every opposite vice. If men be de
termined to be damned, better go the broad
than the narrow way. Who but a madman
would attempt to go to hell by encountering
the difficulties that lie in the way to heaven!

2. The believers to whom Peter wrote were
strangers as Christians, and therefore strangers
because believers. What is the fundamental
maxim of the Christian religion? Jesus Christ
told Pilate, " My kingdom is not of this world,"
John xviii. 36. This is the maxim of a Chris
tian, the first great leading principle, " his
kingdom is not of this world;" his happiness
and misery, his elevation and depression, de
pend on nothing in this world.

The first principle is the ground of the apos
tle's exhortation. The passions destroy this
maxim by supposing the world capable of
making us happy or miserable. Revenge sup
poses our honour to depend on the world, on
the opinion of those idiots who have det%ermih-
ed that a man of honour ought to revenge an
affront. Ambition supposes our elevation to
depend on the world, that is, on the dignities
which ambitious men idolize. Avarice sup
poses our riches depend on this world, on gold,
silver, and estates.

These are not the ideas of a Christian. His

honour is not of this world, it depends on the

ideas of God, who is a just dispenser of glory.

His elevation is not of this world, it depends on

VOL. II.— 11

thrones and crowns which God prepares. His
riches are not of this world, they depend on
treasures in heaven, where " thieves do not
break through and steal," Matt. vi. 20. It is
allowable for a man educated in these great
principles, but whose infirmity prevents his al
ways thinking on them; it is indeed allowable
for a man, who cannot always bend his mind
to reflection, meditation, and elevation above
the world; it is indeed allowable for such a
man sometimes to unbend his mind, to amuse
himself with cultivating a tulip, or embellish
ing his head with a crown: but that this tulip,
that this crown, should seriously occupy such
a man; that they should take up the principal
attention of a Christian, who has such refined
ideas and such glorious hopes, this, this is en
tirely incompatible.

3. In fine, we are strangers and pilgrims by
necessity of nature as mortal men. If this life
were eternal, it would be a question whether
it were more advantageous for man to gratify
his passions than to subdue them; whether
the tranquillity, the equanimity, the calm of a
man perfectly free, and entirely master of him
self, would not be preferable to the troubles,
conflicts, and turbulence, of a man in bondage
to his passions. Passing this question, we will
grant, that were this life eternal, prudence and
self-love, well understood, would require some
indulgence of passion. In this case there
would be an immense distance between the
rich and the poor, and riches should be ac
quired; there would be an immense distance
between the high and the low, and elevation
should be sought; there would be an immense
distance between him who mortified his senses,
and him who gratified them, and sensual plea
sures would be requisite.

But death, death renders all these things
alike; at least, it makes so little difference be
tween the one and the other, that it is hardly
discernible. The most sensible motive there
fore to abate the passions, is death. The tomb
is the best course of morality. Study avarice
in the coffin of a miser; this is the man who
accumulated heap upon heap, riches upon
riches, see a few boards enclose him, and a few
square inches of earth contain him. Study
ambition in the grave of that enterprising
man; see his noble designs, his extensive pro
jects, his boundless expedients are all shatter
ed arid sunk in this fatal gulf of human pro
jects. Approach the tomb of the proud man,
and there investigate pride; see the mouth
that pronounced lofty expressions, condemned
to eternal silence, the piercing eyes that con
vulsed the world with fear, covered with a
midnight bloom, the formidable arm, that dis
tributed the destinies of mankind, without mo
tion and life. Go to the tomb of the noble-
and there study quality; behold his
magnificen^ titles, his royal ancestors, his flat
tering inscriptions, his learned genealogies, are
all gone, or going to be lost with himself in
the same dust. Studv voluptuousness at the
jrave of the voluptuous; see, his senses are
Jestroyed, his organs broken to pieces, his
tones scattered at the grave's mouth, and the
whole temple of sensual pleasure subverted
irom its foundations.
Here we finish this discourse. There is a

TRANSIENT DEVOTION.

ISER. LXIII.

great difference between this and other sub
jects of discussion. When we treat of a point
of doctrine, it is sufficient that you hear it, and
remember the consequences drawn from it.
When we explain a difficult text, it is enough
that you understand it and recollect it. When
we press home a particular duty of morality, it
is sufficient that you apply it to the particular
circumstance to which it belongs.

But what regards the passions is of univer
sal and perpetual use. We always carry the
principles of these passions within us, and we
should always have assistance at hand to sub
due them. Always surrounded with objects
of our passions, we should always be guarded
against them. We should remember these
tilings, when we see the benefits of fortune, to
free ourselves from an immoderate attachment
to them; before human grandeur to despise
it; before sensual objects to subdue them; be
fore our enemy, to forgive him; before friends,
children, and families, to hold ourselves disen
gaged from them. We should always exam
ine in what part of ourselves the passions hold
their throne, whether in the mind, the senses,
or the imagination, or the heart. We should
always examine whether they have depraved
the heart, defiled the imagination, perverted
the senses, or blinded the mind. We should
ever remember, that we are strangers upon
earth, that to this our condition calls us, our
religion invites us, and our nature compels us.

But alas! It is this, it is this general influ-
«nce, which these exhortations ought to have
over our lives, that makes us fear we have ad
dressed them to you in vain. When we treat
of a point of doctrine, we may persuade our
selves it has been understood. When we ex
plain a difficult text, we flatter ourselves we
have thrown some light upon it. When we
urge a moral duty, we hope the next occasion
will bring it to your memory: and yet how
often have we deceived ourselves on these arti
cles! How often have our hopes been vain!
How often have you sent us empty away, even
though we demanded so little! What will
be done to-day? Who that knows a little of
mankind, can flatter himself that a discourse
intended, in regard to a great number, to
change all, to reform all, to renew all, will be
directed to its true design!

But, O God, there yet remains one resource,
it is thy grace, it is thine aid, grace that we
have a thousand times turned into lascivious-
ness, and which we have a thousand times re
jected; yet after all assisting grace, which we
most humbly venture to implore. When we
approach the enemy, we earnestly beseech
thee, " teach our hands to war, and our fingers
to fight!" When we did attack a town, we
fervently besought thee to render it accessible
to us! Our prayers entered heaven, our ene
mies fled before us, thou didst bring us into the
strong city, and didst lead us into Edom, Ps.
Ix. 9. The walls of many a Jericho fell at
the sound of our trumpets, at the sight of thine
ark, and the approach of thy priest: but the
old man is an enemy far more formidable than
the best disciplined armies, and it is harder to
conquer the passions than to beat down the
walls of a city! O help us to subdue this old
man, as thou hast assisted us to overcome

other enemies! Enable us to triumph over
our passions as thou hast enabled us to succeed
in levelling the walls of a city! Stretch out
thy holy arm in our favour, in this church,
as in the field of battle! So be the protector
both of the state and the church, crown our
efforts with such success, that we may offer
the most noble songs of praise to thy glory.
Amen.

SERMON LXIII.'

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

HOSEA vi. 4.
0 Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? 0 Judah,

what shall I do unto thee? For your goodness

is as a moi'ning cloud, and as the early dew it

goeth away.

THE church has seldom seen happier days
than those described in the nineteenth chapter
of Exodus. God had never diffused his bene
dictions on a people in a richer abundance.
Never had a people gratitude more lively,
piety more fervent. The Red Sea had been
passed, Pharaoh and his insolent court were
buried in the waves, access to the land of pro
mise was opened, Moses had been admitted
on the holy mountain to derive felicity from
God the source, and sent to distribute it
amongst his countrymen; to these choice fa
vours promises of new and greater blessings
were yet added, and God said, "ye have seen
what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare
you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto
myself. Now therefore, if ye will obey my
voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye
shall be a peculiar treasure unto me, above
all people, although the earth be mine," ver.
4, 5. The people were deeply affected with
this collection of miracles. Each individual
entered into the same views, and seemed ani
mated with the same passion, all hearts were
united, and one voice expressed the sense of
all the tribes of Israel, " All that the Lord
hath spoken we will do," ver. 8. But this
devotion had one great defect, it lasted only
forty days. In forty days the deliverance out
of Egypt, the catastrophe of Pharoah, the pas
sage through the sea, the articles of the cove
nant; in forty days vows, promises, oaths, all
were effaced from the heart and forgotten.
Moses was absent, the lightning did not glitter,
the thunder claps did not roar, and the Jews
" made a calf in Horeb, worshipped that mol
ten image, and changed their glorious God into
the similitude of an ox that eateth grass," Ps.
cxi. 19, 20. It was this that drew upon Moses
this cutting reproof from God, Go, said he to
Moses, to that Moses always fervent for the
salvation of his people, always ready to plead
for them, " go, get thee down, for thy people,
which thou broughtest out of the land of
Egypt, have corrupted themselves. They have
quickly turned aside out of the way which I
commanded them," Exod. xxxii. 7, 8. They

* Preached the first Lord's day of the year 1710. The
Lord's Supper day.

SER. LXin.]

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

have quickly turned aside, tnis is the great de
fect of their devotion, this is that which ren
ders all devotion incomplete.

Do you know this portrait, my brethren?
Has this history nothing in it like yours? Are
any davs more solemn than such as we observe
in our present circumstances? Did God ever
draw near to us with more favours than he has
this day? Did we ever approach him with
more fervour? On the one hand, the beginning
of another year recalls to mind the serious and
alarming discourses, which the ministers of Je
sus Christ addressed to us on the last anniver
sary, the many strokes given, to whom? To the
enemies of God? Alas! To the state and the
church! Many cut off in the field of battle,
many others carried away in the ordinary and
inevitable course of things, many perils, in one
word, with which we were threatened, but which
thy mercy, O God, has freed us from! On the
other hand this sacred table, these august sym
bols, these earnests of our eternal felicity, all
these objects, do they not render this day one
of the most singular in our lives?

If heaven has thus heard the earth (we are
happy to acknowledge it, my brethren, and we
eagerly embrace this opportunity of publishing
your praise) the earth has heard the heaven.
To j udge by appearance, you have answered
our wishes, and exceeded our hopes. You
were exhorted to prepare for the Lord's supper,
you did prepare for it. You were called to
public worship, you came. You were exhort
ed to attend to the word of God, you did at
tend to it. You were required to form resolu
tions of a holy life, you made these resolutions.
It seemed, while we saw you come with united
ardour this morning to the table of Jesus Christ,
it seemed as if we heard you say, with the Is
raelites of old, " All that the Lord hath spo
ken we will do."

But we declare, my brethren, a 'cloud comes
over the bright scene of this solemnity. I fear,
shall I say the forty? alas, I fear the four suc
ceeding days! These doors will be shut, this
table will be removed, the voice of the servants
of God will cease to sound in your ears, and I
fear the Lord will say of you, " they have
quickly turned aside out of the way which I
commanded them."

Let us not content ourselves with foreseeing
this evil, let us endeavour to prevent it. This
is the design of the present discourse, in which
we will treat of transient devotions. To you,
in the name of God, we address the words, the
tender \vords, which will occasion more reflec
tions than they may seem at first to do, but
which no reflections can exhaust, " O Ephraim,
what ahall I do unto thee? O Judah, what
shall I do unto thee? For your goodness is as a
moii/mg cloud, and as the early dew it goeth
away."

O Almighty God! We humbly beseech thee,
enable us in the offerings we make to thee to
resemble thee in the favours which thou be-
stowest upon us! Thy gifts to us are without
repentance, thy covenant with us contains this
clause, u the mountains shall depart, and the
hills be removed, but my kindness shall not
depart from thee, neither shall the covenant
of my peace be removed. I have sworn that
I will not be wroth with thee!" O that our of

ferings to thee may be without repentance! O
that we may be able to reply, " the mountains
shall depart, and the hills be removed, but my
fidelity shall never depart from thee, neither
shall the dedication which I have made of myself
to thee, ever be removed! I have sworn, and I
will perform it, that I will keep thy righteous
judgments." Amen.

" O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O
Judah, what shall I do unto thee?" Ephraim,
Judah, are terms of the text that have very
little need of explication. You know that the
people of God were united in one state till the
time of Jeroboam, when he rent apart from
Rehoboam the son of Solomon, thus two king
doms were constituted, that of Judah and that
of Israel. Jerusalem was the capital city of
Judah, and of Israel Samaria was the metropo
lis, and it is sometimes called Ephraim in
Scripture. By Judah and Ephraim the prophet
then means both these kingdoms. This wants
no proof, and if there be any thing worth re
marking on this occasion, it is that most inter
preters, who are often the echoes of one an
other, describe the ministry of Hosea as direct
ed only to the kingdom of Israel, whereas it is
clear by the text, and by several other pas
sages, that it was addressed both to Israel and
Judah.

But of all unlucky conjectures, I question
whether there be one more so than that of
some divines, who think our text prophetical.
In their opinion the goodness mentioned in the
text is the mercy of God displayed in the
gospel. The dew signifies Jesus Christ. The
morning, " thy goodness is like the morning
dew," intends the covenant of grace. As every
one proposes his opinion under some appear
ance of evidence, it is said in favour of this,
that the expression, thy goodness, does not sig
nify the goodness of the people, but that which
is manifested to the people, and in proof of
this the idiom of the Hebrew tongue is alleg
ed, with divers passages that justify this tour
of expression, as this, " my people are bent to
heir backsliding," that is to backsliding from
me. The dew, say they, signifies the Messiah,
or he is promised under that emblem in many
passages of Scripture. They add farther, the
morning signifies the new dispensation of the
gospel, which is often announced under this
idea by the prophets, and all this text, " thy
goodness is as the early dew which goeth
away," opens a wonderful contrast between
the law and the gospel. The law was like a
storm of hail destroying the fruits of the earth,
but the gospel is a dew that makes every thing
Ttiitful. The law was a dark night, but the
gospel was a fine day; " thy goodness is like
.he morning dew which goeth away," that is
to say, which cometh. Here are many good
truths out of place. Thy goodness may signify,
or any thing we know, goodness exercised to
wards thee; the Messiah is represented as a
dew; the gospel economy is promised under the
emblem of the morning; all this is true, but all
this is not the sense of the text. The word
goodness, which is the first mistake of the ex-
josition just now given, may be understood of
)iety in general. It has that meaning in many
>assages of Scripture. The substantive derived
rom it is usually put for pious persons, and

84

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

. LXIIL

according to a celebrated critic, it is from the
word hasidim, the pious, thai the word Essenes
is derived, a name given to the whole sect
among the Jews, because they professed a
more eminent piety than others. A " good
ness like the morning dew" is a seeming piety,
" which goeth away," that is of a short dura
tion, and all these words, " O Ephraim, what
shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I
do unto thee? For your goodness is as a morn
ing cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away,"
are a reproof from God to his people for the
unsteadiness of their devotions. In this light
we will consider the text, and show you first
the nature — and secondly the unprofitableness
of transient devotions.

I. Let us first inquire the nature of the piety
in question. What is this goodness or piety,
that " is as a morning cloud, and goeth away
as the early dew?" We do not understand by
this piety either those deceitful appearances of
hypocrites, who conceal their profane and irre
ligious hearts under the cover of ardour and
religion, or the disposition of those Christians,
who fall through their own frailty from high
degrees of pious zeal, and experience emotions
of sin after they have felt exercises of grace.
The devotion we mean to describe goes farther
than the first: but it does not go so far as the
last.

The transient devotion, of which we speak,
is not hypocrisy. Hypocrisy cannot suspend
the strokes of divine justice one single moment,
and it is more likely to inflame than to extin
guish the righteous indignation of God. It is
not to hypocrites that God addresses this ten
der language, " O Ephraim, what shall I do
unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto
thee?" Their sentence is declared, their pun
ishment is ready. "Ye hypocrites, well did
Esaias prophecy of you, saying, this people
draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and
honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is
far from me. Wo unto you, scribes and Phari
sees, hypocrites. The portion of hypocrites
shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth," Matt.
xv. 7; xxiii. 31, and xxiv. 51.

Nor is the piety we mean to describe that
of the weak and revolting believer. How im
perfect soever this piety may be, yet it is real.
It is certainly a very mortifying consideration
to a believer that he should be at any time
hemmed in, confined, and clogged, in his de
votional exercises. In some golden days of his
life, forgetting the world, and wholly employ
ed about heavenly things, how happy was he,
how delicious his enjoyments, when he sur
mounted sense and sin, ascended to God like
Moses formerly on the holy mount, and there
conversed with his heavenly Father concern
ing religion, salvation, and eternity! O how
richly did he then think himself indemnified
for the loss of time in worldly pursuits by pour
ing his complaints into the bosom of God, by
opening all his heart, by saying to him with
inspired men, " Lord, thou knowest that I love
thee! it is good for me to draw near to God!
My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness,
and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful
lips!" I say, it is a very mortifying thing to
him, after such elevations in the enjoyment of
such magnificent objects, to be obliged through

the frailty of his nature to go down again into
the world, and to employ himself about what?
A suit of clothes, a menial servant, a nothing!
Above all, it is very mortifying to him, after
he has tasted pleasure so pure, to feel himself
disposed to sin! But after all, tins piety, though
very imperfect, is genuine and true. It should
humble us, but it should not destroy us, and
we should be animated with a spirit too rigid,
were we to confound this piety with that,
which " is as the morning cloud, and as the
early dew that goeth away."

The piety we speak of lies between these
two dispositions. As I said before, it does not
go so far in religion as the second, but it does
go beyond the first. It is sincere, in that it is
superior to hypocrisy; but it is unfruitful, and
in that respect it is inferior to the piety of the
weak and revolting Christian. It is sufficient
to discover sin, but not to correct it; sufficient
to produce sincere resolutions, but not to keep
them: it softens the heart, but it does not re
new it; it excites grief, but it does not eradi
cate evil dispositions. It is a piety of times,
opportunities, and circumstances, diversified
a thousand ways, the effect of innumerable
causes, and, to be more particular, it usually
ows its origin to public calamities, or to solemn
festivals, or to the approach of death: but it
expires as soon as the causes are removed.

1 . By piety, " like the early dew that goeth
away," we mean that which is usually excited
by public calamities. When a state prospers,
when its commerce flourishes, when its armies
are victorious, it acquires weight and conse
quence in the world. Prosperity is usually
productive of crimes. Conscience falls asleep
during a tumult of passions, as depravity
continues security increases, the patience of
God becomes weary, and he punishes either by
taking away prosperity, or by threatening to
take it away. The terrible messengers of di
vine justice open their commission. The winds
which he makes his angels, begin to utter their
voices: flames of fire, constituted his ministers,
display their frightful light. Pestilence, war,
famine, executioners of the decrees of heaven,
prepare to discharge their dreadful office. One
messenger called death, and another called hell,
receive their bloody commission, " to kill with
sword, and with hunger, and with death, the
fourth part of the earth," Rev. vi. 8. Each
individual sees his own doom in the public
decree. " Capernaum exalted to heaven ia
going to be thrust down to hell," Luke x. 15.
Jonah walks about Nineveh, and makes the
walks echo with this alarming proclamation,
" Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be over
thrown. Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be
overthrown," chap. iii. 4. Or, to lay aside
borrowed names, and to make our portrait like
the original, your ministers free from their
natural timidity or indolence, despising those
petty tyrants, or shall I rather say those diminu
tive insects, who amidst a free people would
have us- the only slaves; who while all kinds
of vices have free course would have the word
of God bound, and would reduce the exercise
of the reform ministry to a state more mean
and pusillanimous than that of court bishops,
or the chaplains of kings; I say, your ministers
have made you hear their voice, they have

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85

gone back to your origin, and laid before you
the cruel edicts, the sanguinary proscriptions,
the barbarous executions, the heaps of mangled
carcasses, which were, if I may so speak, the
first foundations of this republic. From what
you were then they have proceeded to what
you are now; they have represented to you the
end proposed by the Supreme Being in distin
guishing you by so many merciful advantages;
they have told you it was to engage you to in
form idolatrous nations of the truth, to nourish
and favour it in cruel and persecuting countries,
to support it at home, and so to cast out pro-
faneness, infidelity, and atheism. They have
repeatedly urged you to come to a settlement
of accounts on these subjects, and they have
delivered in against you such an interrogatory
as this; are the " hands which hang down, and
the feeble knees lifted up?" Does superstition
cover the truth in any places of your govern
ment? Is the affliction of Joseph neglected?
Does irreligion insolently lift its head among
you, and is it protected by such as are bound
to suppress it? They have shown you the
Deity ready to punish an obstinate perseverance
in sin, and, if you will forgive the expression,
they have preached, illuminated by lightning,
and their exhortations have been enforced by
thunder. Then every one was struck, all hearts
were united, every one ran to the " breach, to
turn away the wrath of God, lest he should
destroy us all," Ps. cvi. 23. The magistrate
came down from his tribunal, the merchant
quitted his commerce, the mechanic laid aside
his work, yea the very libertine suspended his
pleasures; vows, prayers, solemn protestations,
tears, relentings, promises, sincere promises,
nothing was wanting to your devotions. Then
the angels rejoiced, a compassionate God
smiled, the corn revived, war was hushed, and
was dying away; but along with the first tide
of prosperity came rolling back the former de
pravity, the same indifference to truth, the
same negligence of religion, the same infidelity,
the same profanity. This is the. first kind of
that piety, which is " as the early dew that
goeth away." Let us study ourselves in the
image of the Jews described in the context.
" Come," say they, when the prophet had pre
dicted the Babylonish captivity to Judah, and
the carrying away into Assyria to the ten tribes,
" come, and let us return unto the Lord, for
he hath torn, and he will heal us, he hath
smitten, and he will bind us up. After two or
three days he will revive us, and we shall live
in his sight," ver. 12. "After they had rest,
they did evil again before thee" (these are the
words of Nehemiah,) "therefore thou didst
leave them in the hand of their enemies. When
they returned, and cried unto thee, thou heard-
est them from heaven, and many times didst
thou deliver them, according to thy mercies.
O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Ju
dah, what shall I do unto thee? for your good
ness is as the morning cloud, and as the early
dew it goeth away," chap. ix. 28.

2. In a second class of transient devotions
we place that which religious solemnities pro
duce. Providence always watching for our
salvation, has established in the church not
only an ordinary ministry to cultivate our piety,
but some extraordinary periods proper to in-

vigo/ate and bring it to maturity, thus propor
tioning itself to our frailty. How considerable
soever the truths of religion are, it is certain
they lose their importance by our hearing
them always proposed in the same circum
stances, and the same points of light. There
are some days which put on I know not what
of the extraordinary, and put in motion, so to
speak, the first great powers of religion. To
this our festivals are directed, and this is one
of the principal uses of the Lord's Supper.
Were this ordinance not appointed with this
view as some affirm, had not God annexed
some peculiar benediction to it, yet it would
be a weak pretence to keep from the Lord's
table, and the use generally granted would
always be a sufficient reason to induce those to
frequent it who have their salvation at heart.
But however this may be, it is certain that such
days occasion the sort of devotion we are de
scribing, and usually produce a piety " like the
morning cloud, and the early dew that goeth
away."

We do not intend here to describe a kind of
Christians too odious to be put even into this
vicious class. For, my brethren, we have a
very singular sort of people among us, who,
though they live in the practice of all worldly
licentiousness, will frequent the Lord's table,
in spite of all the pains we take to show their
unworthiness, and to keep them away. They
will pass through a kind of preparation, and
for this purpose they retrench a little portion
of time from their course of licentiousness, set
out, however, with so much accurate calcula
tion that it is easy to see they consider devotion
more in the light of a disagreeable task than in
that of a holy enjoyment. They suspend their
habits of sin the whole day before, and all the
live long day after the communion. In this
interval they receive the Lord's Supper, all
the while determining to return to their old
course of life. What devotion! in which the
soul burns with love to worldly pleasure, while
it affects to play off the treacherous part of love
to religion and God! A devotion that disputes
with Jesus Christ a right to three days, gives
them up with regret and constraint, and keeps
all along murmuring at the genius of a reli
gion, which puts the poor insulted soul on the
rack, and forces it to live, three whole days
without gaming and debauchery! A devotion
deep in the plot of Judas to betray the Saviour
at his own table! These people need not be
characterized. We never administer the Lord's
Supper without protesting against them; we
never say any thing to them but " Wo, wo be
to you;" arid though, through a discipline of
too much lenity, they escape excommunication,
yet never can they escape the anathemas, which
God in his word denounces against unworthy
communicants.

We mean here people of another character.
It is he among Christians who does not live in
the practice of all sins, but who does reserve
some, and some of those .which, says the gospel,
they who commit " shall not inherit the king
dom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 10. This man does
not with a brutal madness commit such crimes
as harden him beyond reflection and remorse,
but he has a sincere desire to a certain degree
to correct himself. He takes time enough to

66

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

. LXIIL

prepare himself for the Lord's Supper,, and
then he examines his conscience, meditates on
the great truths of religion, the justice of its
laws, the holiness of every part, and the rich
present which God bestowed on the church in
the person of his own Son. He is affected
with these objects, he applies these truths to
himself, he promises God to reform: but, in a
few days after the communion, he not only
falls into one or two vicious actions, but he
gives himself up to a vicious habit, and per
sists in it till the next communion, when he
goes over again the same excesses of devotion
which end again in the same vices, and so his
whole life is a continual round of sin and re
pentance, repentance and sin. This is a second
sort of people whose devotions are transient.

3. But, of all devotions of this kind, that
which needs describing the most, because it
comes nearest to true piety, and is most likely
to be confounded with it, is that which is ex
cited by the " fear of death," and which van
ishes as soon as the fear subsides.

The most emphatical, the most urgent, and
the most pathetical of all preachers is death.
What can be said in this pulpit which death
does not say with tenfold force? What troth
can we explain, which death does not explain
with more evidence? Do we treat of the vanity
of the world? So does death; but with much
more power. The impenetrable veils which it
throws over all terrestrial objects, the midnight
darkness in which it involves them, the irrevo
cable orders it gives us to depart, the insur
mountable power it employs to tear us away,
represent the vanity of the world better than
the most pathetical sermons. Do we speak of
the horrors of sin? Death treats of this sub
ject more fully and forcibly than we; the pains
it brings, the marks it makes upon us while
we are dying, the grave, to which it turns our
eyes as our habitation after death, represent
the horror of sin more than the most affecting
discourses. Do we speak of the value of di
vine mercy? Death excels in setting this forth
too; hell opening under us, executioners of di
vine vengeance ranging themselves round our
bed, the sharp instruments held over us, repre
sent the mercy of God more fully than the
most touching discourses. No sermons like
these! When then a sickness supposed to be
mortal attacks a man, who has knowledge and
sentiment enough to render him accessible to
motives and reflections, but who has not either
respect enough for holiness, or love enough for
God thoroughly to attach himself to virtue,
then rises this " morning cloud, this early dew
thatgoeth away."

I appeal to many of you. Recall, each of
you, that memorable day of your life, in which
sudden fear, dangerous symptoms, exquisite
pain, a pale physician, and, more than all that,
a universal faintness and imbecility of your
faculties seemed to condemn you to a hasty
death. Remember the prudence you have had,
at least appeared to have, to make salvation
your only care; banishing all company, forbid
ding your own children to approach, and con
versing with your pastor alone. Remember
the docility with which, renouncing all reluc
tance to speak of your own faults, and all
desire to hear of those of other people, you re

spectfully attended to every thing we took the
liberty to say, we entered on the mortifying
subject, you submitted to the most humbling
and circumstantial detail, you yourself filled
up the list with articles unknown to us. Re
collect the sighs you uttered, the tears you shed,
the reproofs you gave yourself, yea, the odious
names by which you described yourself. Re
member the vows, the resolutions, the promises
you made. What are become of all these fine
projects of conversion and repentance, which
should have had an influence over all your life?
The degree of your piety was regulated by the
degree of your malady. Devotion rose and
fell with your pulse. Your zeal kept time
with your fever, and as the one decreased the
other died away, and the recovery of your
health was the resurrection of sin. This man,
this praying man, this holy soul, then full of
pious ejaculations and meditations, is now brim
ful of the world. You are the original of the
portrait in the text, and your piety is " as the
morning cloud, and as the early dew that goeth
away."

II. We have seen the nature, now let us at
tend to the insufficiency of this kind of devotion.
Let us endeavour in this second part of our dis
course to feel the energy of this reproof, " O
Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah,
what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is
as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it
goeth away."

1 . On a day like this, in which we have par
taken of what is most tender in religion, and in
which we ought to yield to the soft feelings
which religion is so fit to excite, let us advert
to a singular kind of argument proposed in the
text against transient devotions, that is, an ar
gument of sentiment and love.

Certainly all the images which it pleases God
to use in Scripture to make himself known to
us, those taken from our infirmities, our pas
sions, our hatred, or our love, all are too im
perfect to represent a God, whose elevation
above man renders it impossible to describe him
by any thing human. However, all these
mages have a bottom of truth, a real meaning
agreeable to the nature of God, and propor
tioned to his eminent and infinite excellence.

God represents himself here under the image
of a prince who had formed an intimate con
nexion with one of his subjects. The subject
seems deeply sensible of the honour done him.
The prince signifies his esteem by a profusion
of favours. The subject abuses them. The
jrince reprehends him. The subject is insen
sible and hard. To reproofs threatenings are
added, and threatenings are succeeded by a sus-
jension of favours. The subject seems moved,
affected, changed. The prince receives the
penitent with open arms, and crowns his re
formation with a double effusion of bountiful
donations. The ungrateful subject abuses them
again. The prince reproves him again, threat
ens him again, and again suspends his liberality.
To avert the same evil the selfish ingrate makes
use of the former method, avails himself of the
nfluence which the esteem of the prince gives
lim, and again he obtains forgiveness. The
>rince loves this violence: but the perfidious
subject knowing his goodness returns to his un
grateful behaviour as often as his bountiful lord

. LX11I.]

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

87

yields to his own inclination to mercy and es
teem, and thus becomes equally barbarous, whe
ther he seems affected with the benevolence of
his prince, or whether he seems to despise it.
For, my brethren, it is much less difficult to
separate one's self wholly from a faithless
friend, than to conduct one's self properly to
one who is faithless only by fits. These equivo
cal reformations, these appearances of esteem,
are much more cruel than total ingratitude,
and open avowed hatred. In an entire rupture
the mind is presently at a point: but in such
imperfect connexions as these a thousand oppo
site thoughts produce a violent conflict in the
mind. Shall I countenance ingratitude, shall
I discourage repentance? I repeat it again,
though this image is infinitely beneath the ma
jesty of God, yet it is that which he has thought
proper to employ. " O Ephraim, what shall I
do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto
thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud,
and as the early dew it goeth away." O
Ephraim, O Judah, why do you rend my heart
asunder by turns with your virtue and your
vice? Why not allow me either to give myself
entirely to you, or to detach myself entirely
from you? Why do you not suffer me to give
a free course either to my esteem or to my dis
pleasure? Why do you not allow me to glorify
myself by your repentance, or by your ruin?
Your devotions hold my hand: your crimes in
flame my anger. Shall I destroy a people ap
pealing to my clemency? Shall I protect a
people trampling upon my laws? " O Ephraim,
what shall I do unto thee? O J udah, what shall
I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morn
ing cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away."

2. Consider secondly, the injustice of these
devotions. Though they are vain, yet people
expect God to reward them. Hear these words,
" they seek me daily, and delight to know my
ways, as a nation that did righteousness:" but,
"say they, wherefore have we fasted, and thou
seest not? Wherefore have we afflicted our
coul, and thou takest no knowledge," Isa. Iviii.
2, 3. Though these complaints were unjust,
yet, what is very remarkable, God sometimes
paid attention to them; for though he sees the
bottom of men's hearts, and distinguishes real
from apparent piety, yet he has so much love
for repentance, that he sometimes rewards the
bare appearance of it. See how he conducts
himself in regard to Ahab. Ahab was a wick
ed king. God denounced judgments against
him, and was about to inflict them. Ahab tore
his garments, covered himself with sackcloth
and ashes, and lay in the dust. What said God
to Elijah? " Seest thou how Ahab humbleth
himself before me? Because he humbleth him
self before me, I will not bring the evil," 1
Kings xxi. 29. Not bring the evil! Why, has
Ahab prohibited idolatry? Has he restored Na-
both's vineyard? Has he renounced his trea
ties with the enemies of God? No. Yet "Ahab
humbleth himself, and because he humbleth
himself 1 will not bring the evil." So true it
is, that God sometimes rewards a mere shadow
of repentance.

The Jews knew this condescension of God,
and they insulted it in the most odious manner.
" Come, let us return unto the Lord, for he hath
torn, and he will heal us, he hath smitten and

he will bind us up. After two days will he
revive us, in the third day he will raise us up;"
and when he has "raised us up," and re-esta
blished us, we will follow our former course of
life. When the tempest is over, we will again
blaspheme the Creator of storms. Is not this
the very summit of injustice!

3. There is, let us observe, a manifest con-
tradiction between these two periods of life, be
tween that of our devotion and that of our sin.
What destroys one, necessarily subverts both;
and a reasonable man acting consistently ought
to choose, either to have no periods of devotion,
or to perpetuate them. Yes, we should choose
either a real inward piety to influence our prac
tice, or none of the superficial sentiments that
produce a profession of it. We should choose
either to act openly like an unmoveable phi
losopher, or shall I rather say a brute beast,
when we seem to be upon the verge of the grave,
or that the piety excited then should continue
as long as we live in case of recovery. There
is a palpable contradiction in having both these
dispositions. When the state is in danger, and
a solemn fast is kept, what is supposed? That
there is a just God governing the universe, dis
pensing good and evil, sooner or later destroy
ing rebellious nations, and exercising a justice
more or less severe according to the duration
of his patience. If we believe all this, we should
endeavour to regulate the state by these prin
ciples, and if we do not believe it, we should
not humble ourselves, and fast, and " bow down
our heads like a bulrush." What is supposed
by the prayers, and tears, and protestations we
bring to the table of Jesus Christ? That God
loves us, that he has so loved us as to give us
his Son, that a Christian ought to return Jesus
Christ love for love, and life for life. If we be
lieve this, we ought to be always faithful to
God, and if we do not bejieve it, we ought not
to communicate, to pray, to weep, to promise.
What is supposed by all the appearance of de
votion we have in sickness? That the soul is
immortal, that there is a future state, that an
eternity of happiness or misery awaits us. If
we believe this, we ought to regulate our ac
tions by these truths, and if we ^lo not believe
it, if the soul be not immortal, if heaven and
hell be phantoms, we ought not to put on an
appearance of religion in prospect of death.
But such is our littleness, when we lose sight
of a thing, we think it ceases to be. When we
find the art of forgetting truth, it should seem
truth is no more. When we cease thinking of
our judge, it seems to us there is no judge. We
resemble children who shut their eyes to hide
themselves from the sight of their nurses.

4. Every part of devotion supposes some
action of life, so that if there be no such action
the whole value of devotion ceases. We hear
a sermon, in this sermon we are taugtit some
truth of religion which has a close and insepa
rable connexion with our moral conduct. We
are told that a judge must be upright, a friend
disinterested, a depository faithful. We do
well to be attentive to this sermon: but after we
have heard it, we violate all the rules, if we be
corrupt judges, ungrateful friends, faithless de
positaries; and if because we have heard our
duty we think ourselves discharged from the
necessity of doing it, do we not pervert the

58

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

[SER LXIII.

order and destination of this discourse? We
receive the Lord's Supper, there we go to con
firm our faith, to detach ourselves from the
world, to prepare ourselves for a future state.
We do well to receive the Lord's Supper: but
if after we have received it we become lax in
believing, fastened to the world, and without
thought of a future state, and if we neglect
these duties, under pretence that we took steps
relative to these duties, do we not pervert the
Lord's Supper? This reasoning is so clear, that
it seems needless to pretend to elucidate it.
Yet many people reason in this manner, I have
been to a place of worship, I have heard a ser
mon, I have received the communion, and now
I may give a loose to my passions: but it is be
cause you have been to a place of worship, it is
because you have heard a sermon, and received
the communion, it is on account of this, that
you ought wholly to employ yourself about that
work, to promote which all these devotions
were appointed.

5. Transient devotions are inconsistent with
the general design of religion. This design is to
reform man, to renew him, to transform him
into the likeness of glorified saints, to render
him like God. But how does a rapid torrent
of devotion attended with no moral rectitude
contribute to this end? If while I fast I eradi
cate the world from my heart, if while I ac
knowledge the enormity of my past life I en
deavour to reform it, if while I give mortal
blows to the old man I form the new man in
my heart, and if I thus build the edifice of grace,
where once the temple of depravity stood, then
I direct a fast day towards the great end of re
ligion. But what says God of another kind of
fasting? " Is it such a fast that I have chosen,
that a man should afflict his soul for a day? Is
it to bow down the head as a bulrush, and to
spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Wilt
thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to
the Lord? Isa. Iviii. 5. And what says God of
exterior devotions in general? " To what pur
pose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me?
saith the Lord. I am full of burnt-offerings and
incense. Your new moons I cannot away with.
Who hath required this at your hand? chap. i.
1 1 . The answer seems ready. Didst not thou ,
Lord, establish this worship, order an elegant
temple to be built, and command the Jews to
go up to Jerusalem? Sabbaths, solemn assem
blies, new moons, do they not owe their origin
to thee? No: when they are destitute of love
and obedience, " 1 hate new moons and Sab
baths, and solemn assemblies I cannot away
with." In like manner, of all devotions of
•every kind, when they are not attended with
uniform moral obedience, we say, and in par
ticular of the Lord's Supper we say, " I am
weary" of your preparations, " I am full" of
momentary devotions, and your pretended holy
resolutions " I cannot away with." " O
Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah,
what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is
as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it
goeth away."

6. Transient devotions must render promises
of grace to you doubtful, even supposing you
should ever, after a thousand revolutions of
transient piety, be in possession of true and real
religion. What think you of this question? A |

man who has spent his life in sin is taken ex
tremely ill. His illness, a review of his life,
and a fear of death, rouse his conscience. He
sends for a minister, he opens to him all hia
heart, he confesses his sins, he weeps, he groans,
he protests ten thousand times that he hates his
past life, and that he is determined to reform.
He persuades himself, and all about him, that
he is really converted. The minister promises
him peace, and displays before him all the com
fortable declarations, which it has pleased God
to bestow in the gospel. The sick man recovers
his health, returns to the world, forgets all his
designs of conversion and repentance, and pur
sues his former course of intrigue, and passion,
and arrogance. He falls sick a second time,
sends a second time for his minister, and again
he opens his heart, accuses himself, sheds floods
of tears, and once more vows amendment and
conversion. The minister on the same prin
ciple as before encourages him to hope again.
He recovers again, and perjures himself again,
as. he did the first time. A third time his ill
ness returns, and he takes the same steps, and
would embrace the same promises, if they could
be addressed to him. Now we ask, how a
minister ought to conduct himself to such a
man? What think you of this question? You
know our commission, it is to preach peace to
such as return to God with sincerity and good
faith. The marks of sincerity and good faith
are good works, and where circumstances ren
der good works impossible, protestations and
promises are to be admitted as evidences of sin
cerity and good faith. These evidences have
been deceitful in the man we speak of. His
transition from promising to violating was as
quick as that from violating to promising.
Have we any right to suppose the penitent
knows his heart better this third time than he
did the first and second? How should we be
able to determine his state, how can we ad
dress to him any other than doubtful promises,
since God, in some sort, adopts such senti
ments in the text? " O Ephraim, what shall ]l
do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto
thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud
that goeth away."

1. Consider finally, the imprudence of a man
who divides his life in this manner into periods
of devotion and periods of sin. It seems at
first to be the height of wisdom to find the un
heard-of art of uniting the reward of virtue,
with the pleasure of vice. On the one side,
by devoting only a few moments to religion he
spares himself the pains which they experience
who make conscience of giving themselves en
tirely ,up to it: and by suspending only for a
little while the exercise of his passions, he en
joys the pleasure of hoping fully to gratify
them. On the other side, he quiets the storms
of divine justice that threaten his rebellion,
and thus obtains by devotions of a moment a
protection, which others devote a whole life to
acquire Let us undeceive ourselves. A heart
divided in this manner cannot be happy. The
chief cause of the difficulties we meet with in
the way of salvation is owing to our partial
walking, and to the fluctuation of the soul be
tween religion and the world. The world com
bats religion, religion combats the world. The
divided heart is the field of battle where this

SER. LXIIL]

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89

violent combat is fought. To desire to enjoy the
pleasures of both virtue and sin is to enjoy nei
ther, and to partake of the inconveniences of
both. To be at a point, to take a part, and to
take the wise part, is the source of true peace
and solid felicity.

Besides, this state of suspension which God
assumes in the text is violent, and cannot last
long. Like motives of patience do not concur
at all times: witness the kingdom of .Judah
mentioned in the text, which was at length
given up to the fury of the Chaldeans; witness
this Ephraim, I mean the kingdom of the ten
tribes, concerning whose destiny the prophet
seems in the text to waver; however, at length
God determined their dispersion, and the tribes
were confounded with those idolatrous and
wicked people, whose immorality and idolatry
they had too exactly copied. All the help of
history, and all the penetration of historians
are necessary to discover any trace of these
people: if indeed the penetration of historians
and travellers have discovered any thing about
them.

But why go back to remote periods of the
world to prove a truth which our own eyes
now behold in abundance of bloody demonstra
tions? If there ever were a year from the
foundation of the world, if there has ever been
a year proper to prove these terrible truths, it
is that which lately came to an end. The
dreadful events that distinguished it, and of
which we were if not the victims, at least the
witnesses, are too recent and too well known,
to need description. This year will be propos
ed to the most distant posterity as one of the
most alarming periods of divine vengeance.
Future preachers will quote it as St. Jude for
merly did the subversion of Sodom, arid the
universal deluge. They will tell your posterity,
that in the year one thousand seven hundred
and nine the patience of God, weary with Eu
rope, enveloped in one general sentence friend
and foe, almost the whole of that beautiful part
of the world. They will say that all the
scourges of heaven in concert were let loose
to destroy guilty nations. They will lead their
auditors over the vast kingdoms of the north,
and show them the Borysthenes stained with
blood, contagion flying rapidly as on the wings
of the winds, from city to city, from province
to province, from kingdom to kingdom, ravag
ing in one week so many thousand persons, in
the next so many thousand more. They will
tell them of the kingdoms which were claimed
by two princes, and by lively images of the
cruel barbarities practised there, they will ren
der it doubtful whether it were a desire of con-
Suering or depopulating these kingdoms that
irected the arms of these rivals. They will
represent that theatre of blood in Flanders,*
and describe in glowing colours troops on both
sides animated with equal fury, some to defend
posts which seemed to need no defence but
themselves, others to force intrenchments

* Our author refers to the battle of Malplaquel, fought
September the llth, 1709, between the French army con
sisting of one hundred and twenty thousand men com
manded by Marshal Villars, and the confederate army
consisting of nearly an equal number under the command
of the Duke of Marlborough. The confederate army ob
tained t'ne victory at the price of twenty thousand of their
be§t troops.

VOL. II.— 12

which nature and art seemed to have rendered
impregnable. They will describe both armies
animated with a fury unknown before, disput
ing in carnage and blood with efforts unparal
leled both for the greatness of the slaughter,
and the glory of the victory. They will re
present the most fruitful kingdom of Europe
under all the misery of scarcity, in this more
cruel than famine, it inflicts a more slow and
lingering death. They will speak of the la
bourers howling for bread in the public roads;
and will tell of " a sudden ferocity next to
madness possessing multitudes, men seizing
public convoys, snatching the bread from one
another's hands, decency, fidelity, and religion
being dead."*

So many victims sacrificed to divine ven
geance, my brethren, so many plagues wasting
Europe, so many shocks of the earth, above
all, so great a share as our crimes had in kind
ling the anger of God, should seem to shake
the foundations of this state, and to convulse
and kill the greatest part of this auditory.
Yet this state still subsists, thanks to thine in
finite mercy my God, the state yet subsists, and
though afflicted, distressed, and weary with a
long and cruel war, it subsists as rich and as
splendid as any country in the world. These
hearers too, yet subsist, thanks to thy mercy
my God, our eyes behold them, and by a kind
of miracle they have been preserved to the be
ginning of another year. Preserved did I say?
They have been crowned. And how does this
year begin, this year which we never expected
to see, after a year distinguished by the three
great evils, pestilence, famine, and war, how
does it begin with us? It begins with the
smiles of heaven, with a participation of what
s most august in religion, with the descent of
the Holy Spirit into our hearts, with the re
newing of our covenant with God, and, if I
may be allowed to say so, it begins with an ac
knowledgment on God's part, that his love
will not allow of our destruction, how much
soever we deserve to be destroyed. "O
Ephraim, how shall I give thee up? O Israel,
how shall I deliver thee up? How shall I
make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as
Zeboim? Mine heart is turned within me, my
repentings are kindled together." Ah! why
must a joy so pure be mixed with a jtfst fear
that you will abuse his goodness? Why, across
such a multitude of benefits must we be con
strained to look at vengeance behind? O re
public! nourished by heaven, " upon which
the eyes of the Lord thy God are always fixed,
from the beginning of the year even unto the
end of the year," Deut. xi. 12; why must we
be driven to-day to utter unpleasant omens,
along with the most affectionate benedictions?
And you believers who hear us, why, now that
we wish you a happy new year, must we be
obliged to foretell an unhappy one?

For what security have we that this year
will be more holy than the last? have we any
certainty that this communion will be more
effectual than others? What security have we
that the resolutions of this day will have more
influence over our lives than all before? Can
we be sure that the devotion of this day will

Flechier's pastoral letter.

90

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

[SER. LXIII.

not be " as a morning cloud, and as the early
dew that goeth away?" And consequently
what security have we that this will not be the
last year of this republic, the last communion,
the last invitation of mercy that will ever be
given to all this assembly?

Ah, my brethren, my dear brethren, behold
the God who heweth us by his prophets, behold
nim who has slain men by the words of his
mouth, behold him, who in the presence of his
angels waiting in this assembly, behold him
once more saying to you, "O Ephraim, what
shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I
do unto thee? for your goodness is as the morn
ing cloud, that goeth away!"

There are two great motives among many
others, which chiefly urge your conversion to
day: your receiving the Lord's Supper this
morning, and the uncertainty of living all this
year.

This morning you received the Lord's Sup
per, and with it peace of conscience, inward
consolation, ineffable pleasure, "joy unspeak
able and full of glory," if indeed you did feel
this, and if these are not in regard to you
sounds without meaning. What! shall four
days, shall four days efface all these impres
sions? What! shall a worldly society, will a
sensual temptation, can a profane raillery bring
you to violate all your resolutions, and to be
guilty of perjury towards God? Do not fall
into the puerility mentioned a little while ago,
do not think the great truths you have felt to
day will cease to be, because you cease to think
of them. Jesus died for you, Jesus gave him
self for you, Jesus demands your heart, Jesus
promises you an eternity of happiness; this is
true to-day, this will be true to-morrow and
all next week, during all your temptations and
pleasures; and what, pray, can the world offer
you in lieu of the heaven, that came into your
conscience? what to supply the place of that
Redeemer, who this morning gave himself to
you in a manner so affectionate?

To this first motive add the other, the vanity
of life, a vanity described by the renewing of
the year. I am aware how feeble this motive
is to many of us. The past insures us for the
future, and because we have never died, it
seems to us as if we never should die.

My brethren, you compel us to-day to set
before you the most mournful images, which
can possibly strike your eyes. You oblige us
to open wounds beginning to heal, and to an
ticipate the sorrows of the present year; but
what can be done? If we cannot detach men from
the world, we must tear them away by force.

Did we deceive you last year when we told
you, that many who were present in this place
on new year's day, would not live through the
year? Has not the event fully verified the
sad prediction? Answer me, ye disconsolate
widows, who saw your husbands, objects of the
purest and tenderest love, expire in your arms.
Answer me, ye children in mourning, who fol
lowed your parents to the grave. How many
afflicted Jacobs are weeping for the loss of a
mother? How many Davids are saying in the
bitterness of their heart, " O my son Absalom,
O Absalom, my son, my son. Would God I
had died for thee!" How many " Benonis, sons
of sorrow," born at the " departing of the soul"

of their parents? How many IVfarthas and
Marys, bedewing the grave of a brother with
their tears, a brother dead four days, and by
this time infectious? How many plaintive
voices are heard in Rama? How many Ra
chels weeping and refusing to be comforted,
because their " children are not?"

Having considered the last year, turn your
attention to this, which we are now beginning.
If, instead of such vague discourses as we address
to you, God should this moment give us %ht
into futurity, a sight of his book of decrees, a
foreknowledge of the destiny of all our hearers,
and impel us to inform each of you how this
new revolution would interest you, what cries
would be heard in this auditory! There you
would see that haughty man, full-blown with
vanity, confounded in the same dust with the
meanest of mankind. Here you would see
this voluptuous woman who refuses nothing to
her senses, lying on a sick-bed, expiring in
agony between the pain of a mortal malady
and the just fear of falling into the hands of an
angry God. Yonder you would behold that
officer now crowned with laurels, and about to
reap a new harvest of glory in the next cam
paign, covered with tragical dust, weltering in
his own blood, and finding a grave where his
imagination appointed victory to meet him. In
all parts of this auditory, on the right hand, on
the left, before, behind, by your side, in your
own pew, I should show you carcasses, and
probably he who hears us with the most indif
ference, and who secretly despises such as
tremble at our preaching, would himself serve
to prove the truth we are delivering, and occupy
the first place in this fatal list.

My brethren, Providence has not honoured
us with any new revelations, we have not a
spirit of prophecy: but you have eyes, you have
a memory, you have reason, and you are cer
tain death will sacrifice many of you in the
course of this year. On whom will the tem
pest fall? Who will first verify our predictions?
You cannot tell; and on this ground you will
brave death, on this you build castles of vanity,
which attach you to the world.

My brethren, establish your tranquillity and
happiness on foundations more firm and solid.
If you be affected with the motives set before
you this day, and now resolve to labour in the
work of your salvation, only you fear the weak
ness of your resolutions, we will give you one
more lesson easy and practicable, that is, that
every day of this year you retire one quarter
of an hour and think of death. There put on
in thought your shroud, lie down in your coffin,
liht our f

light your funeral tapers. There, observe
family weeping, your physician aghast, your
long and melancholy train. There consider
your friends, your children, your titles, your
treasures removed for ever. Inhere strike your
imagination with the salutary ideas of books
opened, thrones prepared, actions weighed in
just balances. There lose yourself in the dark
economy of a future state.

Having heard our exhortations, receive our
benedictions. First, I turn myself toward the
walls of that palace, where laws of equity, the
glory and felicity of these provinces, are made;
where the important questions which influence
religion and the state, and shake all Europe,

SER. LX1IL]

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS.

are agitated. Ye protectors of the church, our
masters and sovereigns, may God confirm the
power that you possess with so much glory
May God continue in your hands the reins of
this republic which you hold with so much
moderation and wisdom! God grant you may
first share the prosperity and glory which you
diffuse among all this people! Under your ad
ministration God grant religion may flourish
justice and peace flow over the whole world,
the Belgic name be respected, and the nation
victorious, and after you have been elevated to
the pinnacle of terre'strial grandeur, may God
elevate you to everlasting glory!

I turn myself also to you, illustrious per
sonages, who represent in these provinces the
chief heads of the Christian world, and who in
a manner exhibit in this assembly princes,
electors, republics, and monarchs, may God
open his richest treasures in favour of those
sacred persons who are gods upon earth, and
whose august characters you bear to enable
them to support sovereign power with dig
nity! God grant they may always have such
ministers as you, who understand how to make
supreme authority both respected and feared!
God grant a confederacy formed for the secu
rity of all nations and people may be continued!
And that my wishes may be more worthy of
the majesty of this place, and the holiness of
my ministry, I pray God to unite you not only
by the same temporal interest but by the same
religion; may you have the same God for your
Father, the same Jesus for your Redeemer, the
same spirit for your guide, the same glory for
your hope! I own at the sight of these lords
of the universe, to whom I have the honour to
address myself, I feel my insignificance, and I
had suppressed all these wishes in my heart,
had I not known that I speak the sense of all
this assembly, the benedictions of all the
church, and the congratulations of the state.

You also we bless, Levites holy to the Lord,
ambassadors of the King of kings, ministers of
the new covenant, who have written on your
foreheads " holiness to the Lord," and on your
breasts " the names of the children of Israel;"
and you, elders and deacons of this church,
who are as it were associated with us in the
work of the ministry, may God animate you
with the zeal of his house! God grant you
may always take for your model the " chief
Shepherd and Bishop of our souls!" God grant
after you have " preached to others, you may
not be cast away!" May you " turn many to
righteousness," and afterward " shine as the
stars for ever and ever!"

Receive our benediction, fathers and mothers
of families, happy to see yourselves born again
in the persons of your children, happier still to
bring those into the "assembly of the first
born," whom you have brought into this valley
of trouble! God grant your houses may be
sanctuaries, and your children offerings to the
" Father of spirits," the " God of the spirits
of all flesh!"

Accept our good wishes, officers and soldiers,
you, who after so many battles are going to
war again, you, who after escaping so many
dangers are entering on a new march of perils:
may the God of battles fight incessantly for
you! May victory constantly follow your

steps! While you subdue your enemies may
you experience this maxirn of the Wise Man,
" he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that
taketh a city."

Young people, receive our blessing: may you
ever be preserved from the contagion of the
world you are entering! May you devote the
inestimable days you enjoy to your salvation!
Now may you " remember your Creator in the
days of your youth!"

Receive our good wishes, old people, who
have already one foot in the grave, let us
rather say, who have already " your heart in
heaven where your treasure is:" May you find
your "inward man renewed day by day, as
your outward man perisheth!" May you feel
your soul strengthened as your bodies decay,
and when your house of clay falls may the
gates of heaven open to you!

Desolate countries, to you also we extend
our good wishes and prayers. You have been
many years the unhappy theatre of the most
bloody war that ever was. May the " sword
of the Lord drunk with blood," retire into its
" scabbard, rest and be still!" May the destroy
ing angel who ravages your fields, cease to
execute his commission! May your " swords
be beaten into ploughshares, and your spears
into pruning-hooks," and may the dew of
heaven succeed the shower of blood that for so
many years has been falling upon you.

Are our benedictions exhausted? Alas! on
this joyful day can we forget our griefs? Ye
happy inhabitants of these provinces, so often
troubled with a recital of our afflictions, we
rejoice in your prosperity, will you refuse
to compassionate our misfortunes? And you,
firebrands plucked out of the burning," sad
and venerable ruins of our unhappy churches,
rny dear brethren, whom the misfortunes of the
times have cast on this shore, can we forget the
miserable remnants of ourselves? O ye groan
ing captives, ye weeping priests, ye sighing
virgins, ye festivals profaned, ye ways of Zion
mourning, ye untrodden paths, ye sad com
plaints, move, O move all this assembly. " O
Jerusalem, if I forget thee, let my right hand
forget her cunning. Not remember thee! let
my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I
prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy! O
Jerusalem, peace be within thy walls, and pros
perity within thy palaces. For my brethren
and companions' sake, I will now say peace be
within thee!" May God be moved, if not with
the ardour of our prayers, yet with the excess
of our afflictions; if not with our misfortunes,
yet with the desolation of his sanctuaries, if
not with the bodies we carry all about the
world, yet with the souls that are torn from us!
And thou dreadful prince, whom I once
lonoured as my king, and whom I yet respect
as a scourge in the hand of Almighty God,
thou also shall have a part in my good wishes.
These provinces which thou threatenest, but
which the arm of the Lord protects; this coun
try which thou fillest with refugees, but fugi
tives animated with love; these walls which
contain a thousand martyrs of thy making, but
whom religion renders victorious, all these yet
resound benedictions in thy favour. God grant
he fatal bandage that hides the truth from
hine eyes may fall off! May God forget the

THE DIFFERENT METHODS

[SER. LXIV.

rivers of blood, with which thou hast deluged i
the earth, and which thy reign has caused to
be shed! May God blot out of his book the
injuries which thou hast done us, and while he '
rewards the sufferers, may he pardon those |
who exposed us to surfer! O may God, who
has made thee to us, and to the whole church,
a minister of his judgments, make thee a dis
penser of his favours, an administrator of his
mercy!

I return to you, my brethren, I include you
all in my benedictions. May God pour out his
Holy Spirit upon all this assembly! God grant
this year may be to us all an acceptable year,
a preparation for eternity! " Drop down ye
heavens from above, let the skies pour down
righteousness, let the earth open, and let them
bring forth salvation."

It is not enough to wish for these blessings,
they must be procured, and we must derive
them from the source. It is not sufficient that
a frail man utters benedictions in your favour,
we must pray for a ratification of them by the
happy God. We must go to the throne of God
himself, wrestle with him, earnestly beseech
him with prayers and tears, and " not let him
go except he bless us." Magistrates, people,
soldiers, citizens, pastors, flock, come let us
bow our knees before the Monarch of the
world: and you birds of prey, devouring cares,
worldly anxieties, be gone, and interrupt not
our sacrifice.

SERMON LXIV.

THE DIFFERENT METHODS OF
PREACHERS.

1 CORINTHIANS iii. 11 — 15.
Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid,
which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man build
upon this foundation, gold, silver, precious
stones; wood, hay, stubble; every man's icork
shall be made manifest; for the day shall declare
if, because it shall be revealed by Jire; and the
fire shall try every man's work of what sort it
is. If any man's work abide, which he hath
built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If
any man's work shall be burnt, he shall suffer
loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by
fire.

HAD rules of preaching sermons no con
nexion with those of hearing them, we would
not have treated of this text in this place. Sa
tisfied with meditating on it in the study, we
would have chosen a subject in which you
would have been more directly interested. But
what doctrine can we preach to you, which
does not engage you to some dispositions, that
cannot be neglected without hazarding the
great salvation, for the sake of which you as
semble in this holy place? Are we such ene
mies to truth, or do we so ill understand it, as
to teach you a doctrine contrary to that, which
the Holy Spirit has laid down in Scripture?
If so, you should remember the saying of an
apostle, and, animated with a holy indignation,
should exclaim, " Though you, or an angel
from heaven, preach any other gospel unto us
than that which we have received, let him be

accursed!" Gal. i. 8, 9. Do we always keep
in sight while we are working in the building
of the church, "the pattern showed to us in
the mount?" Heb. viii. 5. You ought to be
attentive, diligent, and teachable. Do we
make an odious mixture of truth and error,
" Christ and Belial, light and .darkness? you
ought to exercise your senses to discern good
from evil. It is this inseparable connexion of
your duty with ours, which determined me to
explain the text. It directly regards the vari
ous methods of the preachers of the gospel:
but as the terms are metaphorical and obscure,
it will be necessary to develope the meaning of
the apostle in the following manner.

First, we will examine what gave occasion
for the words — next, we will observe the design
of the apostle in writing them — in the third
place, we will explain the several figures made
use of— and lastly, we will apply the subject to
practice.

I. The occasion of the text will appear by a
little attention to the- connexion in which it
stands. St. Paul had been endeavouring to
put an end to the divisions of the church at
Corinth, and to destroy the party-spirit of the
Corinthians. Ought we to be astonished, that
churches are so little unanimous now, when
we see diversity often among apostles and pri
mitive Christians? If peace, left by Jesus
Christ as an inheritance to his apostles, could
not be maintained in churches gathered by
these blessed men, where must we look for it?
Perhaps, division was partly owing to the im
prudence of some preachers in their primitive
churches: but certainly their hearers had a
chief hand in fomenting them. The teachers
had different gifts, and their hearers divided
into parties under their ministry. It is always
allowable to distinguish men, who have re
ceived great talents from God, from such as
have received abilities not so great; but these
Corinthian Christians affected to exalt those of
their ministers, who they thought, were men
of the most eminent abilities, to the depres
sion and discouragement of the rest, and under
pretence of paying homage to God the giver
of these talents, they very indiscreetly idolized
the men who had received them. Moreover,
they made as many different religions, as God
had given different commissions, and different
abilities to ministers to execute them. Each
party at Corinth chose out of these pretended
religions, that which appeared most conform
able to its prejudices. The converted Pagans
were for St. Paul, to whom the conversion of
the gentiles had been committed, and who had
brought them to the knowledge of Jesus Christ,
and they said, for our parts, " we are of
Paul." Such as had a taste for eloquence were
for Apollos, who was an " eloquent man, and
mighty in the Scriptures," and they said,
" we are of Apollos." The converted Jews
were for Peter, who discovered a great deal of
moderation towards their ceremonies, and who
had even "compelled the gentiles to live as
the Jews did," that is to mix the simple wor
ship of the New Testament witli the ceremo
nial observances of the law, and they said, as
for us, " we are of Cephas." And those Jews,
who obstinately continued the ceremony of
circumcision, pretended that they had no need

SER. LXIV.]

OF PREACHERS.

93

of the authority either of Paul, or of Apollos,
or of Cephas, for the example of Jesus Christ,
who had himself been circumcised, was suffi
cient for them, and for their parts, they were
" of Christ."

St. Paul tells these Corinthians, that, as
long as they should continue in this disposi
tion, he should consider them as novices in the
Christian religion, able at most only to under
stand the first principles, not to comprehend
the whole design. He tells them, that there
were in this religion "treasures of wisdom and
knowledge," but into which men could never
enter, who mixed their passions with truths
intended to mortify them; and that this defect
in them prevented him from attempting to lay
before them these riches. " I, brethren, could
not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as
unto carnal, even as unto babes in Christ. I
have fed you with milk and not with meat:
for hitherto ye were not able to bear it, neither
yet now are ye able. For ye are yet carnal,
for whereas there is among you envying and
strife and divisions, are ye not carnal, and
walk as men," 1 Cor. iii. 1 — 3, that is, as men
of the world?

Having reproved the folly, and repeated the
descriptive censure, he leads them to the true
motive that should induce them to avoid it.
Although, as if he had said, the talents of
your ministers are not all equal, yet they
all received them from the same source, that
is, from the grace of God; and how amply so
ever any of them may be endowed with abili
ties, they can have no success, except the same
grace bestows it. " Who then is Paul, and
who is Apollos, but ministers by whom ye be
lieved, as the Lord gave to every man," ver.
5, that is, as the blessing of God accompanied
their ministry? " I have planted, Apollos wa
tered: but God gave the increase. So then
neither is he that planteth any thing, neither
he that watereth, but God that giveth the in
crease," ver. 8. A great lesson for those to
whom God has given gifts to preach the gos
pel! A fine example of humility, which they
ought always to have before their eyes! And
what were the gifts, with which God enriched
the first heralds of the gospel? What is a lit
tle vivacity of imagination, a little grace of elo
cution, a little reading, a little justness of rea
soning? What are these talents in comparison
with the gifts of men, who spoke several fo
reign languages, who understood all mysteries,
who altered the laws of nature, who were dis
pensers of the divine power, who raised the
dead, who slew the wicked, with the breath of
their lips, who struck dead at their feet Ana
nias and Sapphira, and to say more still, who
were immediately conducted by the spirit of
God in their ministry? Yet behold the man,
who was first in this class of extraordinary
men, behold this chosen vessel, behold the man
who could say, " I was not a whit behind the
very chiefest apostles," 2 Cor. xi. 5, behold
him, doing homage for all his own talents, and
all those of his colleagues, to that grace, from
which they came, and which blessed the ad
ministration of them. " Who is Paul? Who is
Apollos? He that planteth is nothing, he that
watereth is nothing, but God that giveth the
fcicrease."

II. It was to be feared (we proceed to the
design of the text,) it was to be feared, that
under pretence that all the ministers of the
gospel were united in one point of equality,
under pretence that none of them were any
more than servants of God, and canals by
which he communicated himself to the church;
I say it was hazardous, and much to be sus
pected, whether teachers themselves would not
abuse this equality by applying what the apos
tle meant only of the abilities of preachers,
to the very doctrines themselves which they
taught.

If this were doubtful in regard to the preach
ers, it was no less so in regard to the hearers.
People have, I think, a natural bias to super
stition. They easily show that respect, which
is due only to the character of a minister of
the living God, to all that put it on, even to
such as use it only for the perverting of the
gospel, yea to those who endeavour to subvert
it entirely. Because we ought not to hear the
gospel in a spirit of chicanery and sophistry, it
is supposed we ought to lay aside a spirit of
discernment. Hence this way of speaking, so
superstitious, and at the same time so common
among us, that is, that whatever difference
there may be in preachers, yet they all preach
the word of God. But it is not impossible,
that from a text which is the word of God,
explications may be given, which are only the
word of man. Not impossible, did I say! 1
believe it seldom, if ever happens, that two
ministers treat of one subject without at least
one of them mixing with the word of God
some expressions which are only the word of
man. Why? Because the conformity of their
sentiments can never be so perfect, but they
will differ on some questions. Now, of two
men, one of whom takes the affirmative side
of a question, and the other the negative, one
of them must of necessity, in this respect,
preach the word of God, and the other the
word of man. You should not, therefore, pay
a superstitious attention to our discourses. —
You should not, under pretence that all your
ministers thus pv^acii the word of God, con
found the word of God with the word of man.
Whatever patience you may be obliged to have
with our imperfections, you ought not equally
to esteem two discourses, the greatest part of
one of which you call, and have reason to call,
the word of God, and the greatest part of the
other the word of man.

The design of St. Paul in our text is to rec
tify our judgment on this subject. For thia
purpose he divides preachers into three classes.
The first are such as preach the word of man,
not only different from the word of God,
but directly in opposition to it. The second
preach the pure word of God without human
mixtures. The third do indeed make the word
of God the ground of their preaching, but
mix with it the explications and traditions of
men. The apostle characterizes these three
kinds of preachers, informs us of their destina
tion, and what account God will require of
their ministry.

1. " Other foundation can no man lay than
that is laid.*' This is directed against such mi
nisters as preach the word of man in direct op
position to the word of God, or the doctrine

THE DIFFERENT METHODS

. LX1V.

of Jesus Christ. What will be the destina
tion of such ministers? St. Paul tells us by
affirming, " no man can preach, no man can
lay any other foundation than that is laid."
No man can! Not that this can never hap
pen. Alas! This has too often happened; wit
ness many communities, which 'under the
Christian name subvert all the foundations of
the Christian religion. But no man can do so
without rendering himself guilty of the great
est crime, and exposing himself to the greatest
punishment.

2. " If any man build upon this foundation,
gold, silver, precious stones." These are mi
nisters, who preach the pure word of God.
They not only retain all the fundamental points
of the Christian religion^ in opposition to the
former who subvert them: but they explain
these truths so as to affirm nothing inconsistent
with them. All the inferences they draw
from these great principles naturally proceed
from them, and their whole doctrine is agreea
ble to the foundation on which it is built. On
this account it is compared to " gold, silver,
and precious stones." What shall be the des
tiny of these ministers in the great day of
judgment, when their doctrine shall be exam
ined? They " shall receive a reward." They
shall share the glorious promises made to faith
ful ministers of religion.

3. " If any man build upon this foundation,
wood, hay, stubble." These are ministers who
really make the word of God the ground of
their preaching: but who mix the word of
man with it, and disfigure it with their fanci
ful sophistry. When the doctrine of these mi
nisters shall be examined in the great day of
judgment, what shall their destiny be? " They
themselves shall be saved," because they have
taught nothing directly contrary to the essen
tial truths of Christianity: but they shall have
no reward for exercising a ministry, in which
they rendered the word of God of less effect by
mixing with it the traditions of men, and they
shall be " saved, yet so as by fire," that is, with
difficulty, because their preaching occupied
the time and attention of their hearers, in a
manner unworthy of the disciples of Jesus
Christ.

This is, my brethren, a general view of the
design of our text: but this is not sufficient to
give an exact knowledge of it. In a discourse
intended to prevent, or to eradicate a certain
kind of superstition, nothing ought to be pro
posed that is likely to cherish it. You should
not be required to believe any thing without
the most full and convincing evidence. Hav
ing therefore shown you the general design
of the text, we will proceed to our third arti
cle, and explain the several metaphors made
use of in it.

III. Although all these figurative expres
sions are selected with caution, and very bold,
yet they are not all alike obscure to you.
Which of you is such a novice, I do not say
only in the style of the inspired authors, as not
to know the idea affixed to the term founda
tion? In architecture they call those massy
stones laid in the earth, and on which the
whole ^building rests, foundations; and thus in
moral things, particularly in sciences, founda

tions signify some propositions, without which
all the rest that make the body cannot sub
sist.

The foundation is Jesus Christ. These terms
are to be understood in this place, as in many
others, of the Christian religion, which is call
ed Jesus Christ, not merely because Jesus
Christ taught it to the world, but because his
history, that is, his sufferings, his death, and
his resurrection, are the principal subjects.
In this sense, the apostle says, " he determin
ed not to know any thing among" the Corin
thians " save Jesus Christ and him crucified,"
that is, the Christian religion, of which the
crucifixion of Christ is a principal article.

The other emblems, " wood, hay, stubble;
gold, silver, precious stones," seem evidently
to convey the ideas which we just now affixed
to them. As St. Paul here represents the doc
trine of preachers under the similitude of an
edifice, it is natural to suppose, that " wood,
hay, and stubble," especially when they are
opposed to "gold, silver, and precious stones,"
should mean doctrines less considerable, either
because they are uncertain, or unimportant.

For the same reason, " gold, silver, precious
stones," signify in the edifice of the church, or
in the system "of preachers, such doctrines as
are excellent, sublime, demonstrable. In this
sense the prophet Isaiah, describing the glory
of the church under the government of the
Messiah, says, "behold,' I will lay thy stonea
with fair colours, and thy foundations with
sapphires. And I will make thy windows of
agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all
thy borders of pleasant stones," chap. liv. 11,
12, and, by way of explaining this metaphori
cal language, he adds in the very next words,
" All thy children shall be taught of the Lord,
and great shall be the peace of thy children."

There is a little more difficulty, at least
there are many more opinions on the meaning
of those words, " Every man's work shall be
made manifest, for the day shall declare it, be
cause it shall be revealed by fire, and the fire
shall try every man's work, of what sort it is."
Without detailing, and refuting erroneous opin
ions on these words, let it suffice that we point
out the true sense. By the " day" we under
stand the final judgment. This day is called
in many passages of Scripture the day " of the
Lord," the " day," or that day by excellence.
Thus the apostle, " Jesus Christ shall confirm
you unto the end, that ye may be blameless in
the day of our Lord," chap. i. 8. Thus, also,
speaking of the temporal punishment of the
incestuous person, he says, " deliver such a
one unto Satan, for the destruction of the
flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day
of the Lord Jesus," chap. v. 5. So again, "I
know whom I have believed, and I am per
suaded, that he is able to keep that which I
have committed unto him against that day," 2
Tim. i. 12. In that day " every man's work
shall be revealed," or " made manifest by fire."
It is not astonishing, that fire should be joined
here with the day of judgment. The Scrip
ture teaches us in more than one place, that
the terrible day of judgment will verify in the
most dreadful of all senses this declaration,
" God maketh winds his angels," and " flam

SER. LXIV.]

OF PREACHERS.

95

ing fire his ministers."* Hence the psalmist
says, " the mighty God, even the Lord hath
spoken, and called the earth from the rising
of the sun unto the going down thereof. A
fire shall devour before him," Ps. 1. 1. Agree
ably to which our apostle says, " the Lord
Jesus, when he shall come to be glorified in
his saints, and to be admired in all them that
believe, shall be revealed from heaven in flam
ing fire, taking vengeance on them that know
not God," 2 Thes. vii. 10. 8. Though all
these passages cast light on the text, yet strict
ly speaking, I think the apostle presents the
fire of the day of judgment here under an
idea somewhat different from that given in all
these passages. In these, fire is represented
as punishing only the wicked, the righteous do
not feel the action of it: but here in the text
it is described as alike kindled for the righte
ous and the wicked; at least it is said that the
works of both shall be " revealed by fire."
Now we should be obliged to have recourse to
some subterfuge to make sense of the text, if
we understood the apostle speaking of the fire
of hell. How can the works of the righteous
and the wicked be equally manifested by the
fire of hell?

I think a much more simple and natural ex
position may be given of the words of the text.
The chief design of a day of judgment is to
examine the actions of men, and to distinguish
bad actions from good, and good from better.
This is an idea contained in a thousand pas
sages of Scripture, and it would be useless to
prove it. Now the apostle, in order to make
us understand that the evidence shall be com
plete, represents it under the similitude of the
most perfect and best known trials among
men, of which that of metal by fire certainly
excels in its kind. Hence it is, that the sacred
writers have chosen this to explain the trials
which God makes his children go through in
this world. I select only one passage out of a
great number, " That the trial of your faith,
being much more precious than of gold that
perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might
be found unto praise, and honour, and glory,
at the appearance of Jesus Christ," 1 Pet. i.
7. The trial of your faith is a remarkable
word in the original. Good Greek authors
use it for the trial of metals in the fire. Iso-
crates uses the term exactly as St. Peter does,

* Psalm civ. 4. The English version is — Who maketh
his angels spirits: his ministers a flaming fire. Mr.
Saurin understands the words, as above, expressive of
the divine influence over the power of nature, and reads,
who maketh winds and fires, literally, his instruments, or
figuratively, his messengers. This is perfectly agreeable
— first, to the original terms — secondly, to the context,
who walketh upon the wings of the wind — who maketh
clouds his chariot — who sitteth on waters — whose canopy
is the heavens. Whose clothing is light. This whole
psalm, the most sublime of all essays on nature, makes
all parts of the universe particles of one body of majestic
size, and exact symmetry, of which the Psalmist's God
JEHOVAH, is the soul; the earth, the deep, mountains,
valleys, beasts, fowls, grass, herbs, oil, wine, man, and
all his movements, the skill that builds, and sails a ship,
and the sensations that make leviathan play, all these,
all the parts and powers of nature, are formed, animated,
and directed by God. Thirdly, this sense is agreeable
to other passages of Scripture— the Lord rained fire,
Gen. xix. 24. The Lord caused the sea to go back by a
•trong east wind, Exod. xiv. 21. Fire and hail, snow
and vapour, stormy wind, fulfilling hia word, Ps. cxlviii.

ice try gold in the fire. I return to the text,
which I left only for the sake of explaining it
the better. St. Paul here represents the day of
judgment as a time of the most exact and
severe trials of the actions of men, and parti
cularly of the doctrines of ministers of the
gospel. For this purpose he compares the
trial with that of metals by fire. Says he,
the different doctrines of ministers of the gos
pel shall then be put into a crucible that they
may be fully known, as by the same process
pure gold is separated and distinguished from
foreign matter mixed with it: " Every man's
work shall be made manifest, for the day,"
that is, the day of judgment, "shall declare
it," because it shall be "revealed by fire,"
that is, the day of judgment like " fire," ap
plied to metals " shall try every man's work,
of what sort it is."

The apostle, pursuing the same metaphor,
adds, "If any man's work abide, which he
hath built thereupon, he shall receive a re
ward," that is, if the doctrine which a minis
ter of the gospel shall have taught, and built
on " the foundation that is laid," if this doc
trine shall abide the trial of the day of judg
ment, as gold abides that of fire, the preacher
shall receive a reward: but if his doctrine
burn, if it will not abide this trial, if it be like
the foreign matter mixed with gold, and which
burns when gold is tried with fire, then the
preacher will lose the honour and pleasure of
his work, he will have no reward for his minis
terial services: but as to himself, perhaps he
may be saved, however, he will be saved with
difficulty, " he will be saved as by fire." Why
may he be saved? Because his doctrine did
not go to the subversion of the principal truths
of the Christian religion. Why will he be
saved with difficulty? Because his doctrine
was inconsistent with the dignity of Christi
anity. Why is the salvation of such a man
uncertain? Because it is possible, that the
motives which induced him to preach such a
doctrine, and to prefer it before what St. Paul
compares to "gold and precious stones," may
have been so detestable as to deserve all the
punishments denounced against such as shall
have subverted the foundation of the gospel.
If you doubt whether the sense we have given
to this metaphorical expression, " saved as by
fire," be just, we beg leave to observe in three
words that it is well founded.

First, the sense given is riot forced, for no
thing is more natural than to express a great
difficulty by similitudes taken from difficult
things, thus we say a man escaped from ship
wreck, to describe a man who has escaped
from any great danger: and the same idea is
expressed with equal aptness, when we say a
man freed from some great danger has es
caped the fire.

Secondly, the metaphor is not only just but
beautiful in itself, but it is common in profane
writers. In this manner jEmilius Paul us, to
show that he had hardly escaped the rage of
the populace during his first consulship, says,
that he escaped a popular conflagration, in
which he was half burnt. In like manner Ci
cero, speaking of the miseries of life, says, that
it would be better not to be born, but that if
we have the misfortune to be born, the most

THE DIFFERENT METHODS

. LXIV.

advantageous tiling is to die soon, and to flee
from the hands of fortune as from a conflagra
tion,

Thirdly, the metaphor in the text is common
in other parts of Scripture, as in Amos, " I
have overthrown some of you, as God over
threw Sodom and Gomorrah, and ye were as a
firebrand plucked out of the burning," chap.
iv. 11. The apostle Jude adopts the same
figure, and says, "save others with fear, pull
ing them out of the fire," ver. 13.

By establishing the true sense of the text on
solid grounds, I think we have sufficiently re
futed all erroneous opinions concerning it, and
yet there are two, which for different reasons
I cannot help mentioning.

The first is the opinion of those, who think
the apostle meant by the fire in the text the
destruction of Jerusalem. This opinion has
an air of probability, yet I do not think it
certain. The time of the destruction of Jeru
salem is often called in Scripture, as well as
the time of the final judgment, that day, the
day of the Lord, and the calamities of the day
are represented under the idea of fire, and
literally speaking, fire did make sad ravages in
Jerusalem and in the temple. However there
is a deal of perplexity in the paraphrase given
of the text by such as are of this opinion. This
is it, exactly as we have transcribed it from a
celebrated scholar. " The fire of the destruc
tion of Jerusalem will prove whether the doc
trines of your teachers be those of the gospel,
or whether they be foreign notions. He whose
doctrine will abide this trial, shall receive a
reward: but he whose doctrine will not abide
it, will lose the fruitof his ministerial labours."

We said this opinion was probable: but we
cannot say so with the least shadow of truth of
the opinion of some of the church of Rome,
who pretended that the apostle speaks here of
the fire of purgatory.

Because, suppose purgatory were taught in
other passages of Scripture, which we are very
far from granting, great violence must be done
to this text to find the doctrine here; for on
supposition the apostle speaks of purgatory,
what do these words mean? The fire of pur
gatory shall try the doctrines of the ministers
of the gospel, so that substantial doctrines, and
vain doctrines shall be alike tried by this fire!

Because St. Paul says here of this fire things
directly opposite to the idea which the church
of Rome forms of purgatory. They exempt
saints of the first order, and in this class St.
Paul certainly holds one of the most eminent
places: but our apostle, far from thinking him
self safe from such a " trial by fire" as he speaks
of in the text, expressly says, " every man's
work" shall be tried, that is the work of minis
ters who shall have built on the foundation
" gold, silver, precious stones," shall be tried,
as well as that of other ministers, who shall
have built on the foundation "wood and
stubble."

But the chief reason for our rejecting the
comment of the church of Rome is the nature
of the doctrine itself, in proof of which they
bring the text. A heterodox doctrine, which
enervates the great sacrifice that Jesus Christ
offered on the cross for the sins of mankind; a
doctrine directly opposite to a great number of

passages of Scripture, which tell us that " there
is no condemnation to them that are in Christ
Jesus, that "he that beiieveth is passed from
death unto life," that when " the righteous
dieth, he is taken from the evil to come, and shall
enter into peace," Rom. viii. 1; John v. 24;
and Isa. Ivii. 1,2. A doctrine founded on a
thousand visions and fabulous tales, more fit
for times of pagan darkness than days of evan
gelical light; a sordid doctrine that evidently
owes its being to that base interest, which it
nourishes with profusion, luxury, and extrava
gance; a barbarous doctrine, which produces
in a dying man a dreadful expectation of pass
ing from the agonies of dying to whole ages of
greater agony in flames of fire.

IV. Let us now proceed to examine with
what eye we ought to consider the three sorts
of preachers, of which the apostle speaks, and
so apply the subject to practice. The first are
such as " lay another foundation" besides that
which is laid. The second are those who
" build on the foundation," laid by the master-
builder, " wood, hay, and stubble." The third
are such as build on the same foundation " gold,
silver, and precious stones."

Thanks be to God we have no other con
cern with the first of these articles except that
which compassion obliges us to take for the
wickedness of such teachers, and the blindness
of their hearers!

What a strange condition is that of a man
who employs his study, his reading, his medi
tation, his labours, his public and private dis
courses to subvert the foundations of that edi
fice which Jesus Christ came to erect among
mankind, and which he has cemented with his
blood! What a doctrine is that of a man, who
presumes to call himself a guide of conscience,
a pastor of a flock, an interpreter of Scripture,
and who gives only false directions, who poi
sons the souls committed to his care, and dark
ens and tortures the word of God! Jesus
Christ, to confound the glosses of the false
teachers of his time, said, " ye have heard that
it was said by them of old time" so and sot
" .but I say unto you" otherwise. The teachers,
of whom I speak, use another language, and
they say, you have heard that it was said by
Jesus Christ, so and so: but I say to you
otherwise. You have heard that it was said
by Jesus Christ, " Search the Scriptures:" but
I say to you, that the Scriptures are danger
ous, and that only one order of men ought to
see them. You have heard, that it has been
said in the inspired writings, " prove all things:"
but I say unto you, it is not for you to examine,
but to submit. You have heard that it has
been said by Jesus Christ, that " the rulers
over the Gentiles exercise lordship over them,
but it shall not be so among you." But I say
unto you, that the pontiff has a right to domi
neer not only over the Gentiles, but even over
those who rule them. You have heard that it
has been said, " blessed are the dead which die
in the Lord," that the soul of Lazarus " was
carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom:"
but I, I say unto you, that the dead pass from
the miseries of this life, only into incompara
bly greater miseries in the flames of purgatory.

If this disposition be deplorable considered
in itself, it becomes much more so by attending

SER. LX1V.]

OF PREACHERS.

97

to the motives that produce it. Sometimes it
is ignorance, which makes people sincerely
crawl in the thickest darkness, arnidst the finest
opportunities of obtaining light. Sometimes it
is obstinacy, which impels people to maintain,^
for ever to maintain, what they have once af
firmed. Sometimes it is pride, that will not
acknowledge a mistake. Sometimes it is in
terest, which fixes them in a communion that
opens a path to riches and grandeurs, benefices
and mitres, an archiepiscopal throne and a tri
ple crown. Always, it is negligence of the
great salvation, which deserves all our pains,
vigilance the most exact, and sacrifices the
most difficult.

My brethren, let us acknowledge the favour
conferred on us by Providence in delivering us
from these errors. Let us bless the happy
days of the Reformation, in which our socie
ties were built on the foundation laid by Jesus
Christ and his apostles. Let us never disho
nour it by an irregular life. Let us never re
gret the sacrifices we have made to it. Let us
be always ready to make more. We have al
ready, many of us, given up our establishments,
our fortunes, and our country; let us give up
our passions, and, if it be requisite, our lives.
Let us endeavour to perpetuate and extend it,
let us defend it by our prayers, as well as by
our labour and vigilance. Let us pray to God
for this poor people, from whose eyes a fatal
bandage hides the light of truth. Let us pray
for such of our brethren as know it, but have
not courage to profess it. Let us pray for those
poor children, who seem as if they must re
ceive it with their first nourishment, because
their parents know it: but who do not yet
know it, and who perhaps, alas! will never
know it. If our incessant prayers for them
continue to be rejected; if our future efforts to
move in their favour the compassion of a mer
ciful God, be without success, as our former
efforts have been; if our future tears, like our
former sorrows, be in vain, yet we will exclaim,
" O Lord, how long! O wall of the daughter
of Zion, let tears run down like a river day and
night, give thyself no rest, let not the apple of
thine eye cease! O ye that make mention of
the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no
rest, till he establish, and till he make Jeru
salem a praise in the earth," Rev. vi. 10;
Lament, ii. 18; and Isa. Ivii. 6, 7.

It is not the limit prescribed to this sermon,
that forbids my detailing the two .remaining
articles: but a reason of another kind. I fear,
should I characterize the two kinds of doc
trines, which are both built on the foundation,
but which, however, are not of equal value, I
myself should lay another foundation. The
religion of Jesus Christ is founded on love.
Jesus Christ is love. The virtue which he
most of all recommended to his disciples, is
love.

I appeal here to those, who have some ideas
of remnants of divisions yet amongst us. How
can I, without rekindling a fire hid under em
bers, and which we have done all in our power
entirely to extinguish, show the vanity of dif
ferent classes of divers doctrines of wood, hay,
and stubble?

In a first class, it would be necessary to
expose a ministry spent in questions of mere
VOL. II.— 13

curiosity, and to contrast it with that which is
employed only to give that clear knowledge,
and full demonstration of the great truths of
religion of which they are capable.

In the second class, it would be necessary to
contrast discourses of simple speculation tend
ing only to exercise the mind with such prac
tical discourses as tend to sanctify the heart,
to regulate the life, to render the child obedi
ent to his parent, and the parent kind and equi
table to his child, the subject submissive to the
laws of his rulers, and the ruler attentive to
the happiness of the subjects, the rich charita
ble, and the poor humble and patient.

In the third class, I should be obliged to con
sider some productions of disordered minds,
fancies attributed to the Spirit of God, charg
ing religion with the tinsel of the marvellous,
more proper to divert children than to satisfy
inquisitive minds, and to contrast these with
the productions of men who never set a step
without the light of the gospel in their hands
and infallible truth for their guide.

In a fourth class, we ought to contrast those
miserable sophisms which pretend to support
truth with the arms of error, and include with
out scruple whatever favours, and whatever
seems to favour the cause to be maintained,
with clear ideas, close reasonings, and natural
conclusions, such as a preacher brings, who
knows how to weigh in a just balance truth
and falsehood, probability and proof, conjecture
and demonstration.

In the fifth class, I should have to lay open
the superficial ideas, sometimes low and vul
gar, of a man without either elevation or pene
tration, and to contrast them with the dis
courses of such happy geniuses as soar up to
God, even to the inaccessible God.

All these dissimilitudes it would be my duty
to show: but I will not proceed, and I make a
sacrifice to charity of all the details which the
subject would bear. I will not even describe
the miseries which are denounced against such
as build hay and stubble on the foundation of
the gospel, nor the unhappiness of those, who
shall be found at last to have preferred such
doctrines before the " gold, silver, and precious
stones," of which the apostle speaks. Let
them weigh this expression of the holy man,
"he shall be saved, yet so as by fire." Let
the first think of the account they must give
of their ministry, and the second of the use
they have made of their time, and of their
superstitious docility.

I would rather offer you objects more at
tracting, and urge motives more tender. We
told you at the beginning of this discourse that
your duties, Christian people, have a close con
nexion with ours, and we may add, our desti
nation is closely connected with yours.

What will be the destiny of such as shall
have built on the foundations of Christianity
" gold, silver, and precious stones?" What will
be the destiny of those, who shall have exer
cised such a ministry? What will be the des
tiny of such as have incorporated themselves
with it? Ah! my brethren, I place my hap-'
piness and glory in not being able fully to an
swer this question. I congratulate myself for
not being able to find images lively enough to
represent the pomp, with which I hope, my

98

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

[SER. LXV.

most beloved auditors, you will one day be
adorned. Yet I love to contemplate that great
day, in which the work of faithful ministers,
and faithful Christians will be made manifest
by fire. I love to fill my mind with the day,
in which God will " come to be glorified in his
saints, and admired in all them that believe,"
2 Thess. i. 10; when he shall call to the hea
vens " from above, and to the earth, that he
may judge his people," Ps. 1. 4, saying, " Ga
ther my saints together unto me, those that
have made a covenant with me by sacrifice,"
ver. 5. I love to satiate my soul with ideas
of the redeemed of every kindred, and tongue,
and people, and nation, in company with ten
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of
thousands of angels, Rev. v. 9. 11. At the
head of this august body I see three chiefs.

The first is " Jesus Christ, the author and
finisher of our faith," Heb. xii. 2. I see this
divine leader presenting himself before his father
with his wounds, his cross, and his blood, and
t&ying, " Father, 1 have finished the work
which thou gavest me to do. And now, O
Father, glorify thou me with thine own self,
with the glory which I had with thee before the
world was," John xvii. 4, 5. Having glorified
the head, glorify the members, save my people.
Then will the eternal Father crown such just
and holy petitions with success. Then will be
accomplished in regard to Jesus Christ this
magnificent promise, " Ask of me and I shall
give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and
the uttermost parts of the earth for thy posses
sion," Ps. ii. 8. Such as oppose thine empire
govern " with a rod of iron, and dash them in
pieces like a potter's vessel:" but enter thou
unto thy kingdom with thy subjects, thy saints,
thy well beloved, and share with them thy
glorious inheritance.

The second leaders are prophets, evangelists,
and apostles, appearing before God with the
conquests they made, the nations they convert
ed, the persecutions they endured for the love
of God and his gospel. Then will the promises
made to these holy men be accomplished, " they
that turn many to righteousness shall shine as
the stars for ever and ever. When the Son of
man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye
also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the
twelve tribes of Israel." Daniel xii. 4; Matt.
xix. 28.

The third will be such ministers as have
been " followers of the apostles even as they
also were of Christ." I think I see these
ministers humbled for their faults, convinced
of their frailty, imploring the divine mercy for
the blemishes of their ministry: but yet with
that humble confidence which the compassion
of God allows, and saying, behold us, the doc
trine we have preached, the minds we have
informed, the wanderers we have reclaimed,
and with the hearts which we have had the
honour of animating with thy love. What, in
that great day, what will be your destiny,
Christian people? Will yours be the hearts
which we shall have animated with divine love,
or those from which we never could banish the
love of the world? Shall you be among the
backsliders whom we shall have reclaimed, or
among such as shall have persisted in sin?
Shall yours be the minds we have enlightened,

or among those who shall have lain in darkness
and ignorance?

Ah! My brethren, the first of our wishes, the
most affectionate of our prayers, our secret
meditations, our public discourses, whatever
we undertake, whatever we are, we consecrate
to prepare you for that great day. " What is
our hope, or joy, or crown of. rejoicing? Are
not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus
Christ at his coming? Ye are our glory and
our joy," 1 Thess. ii. 19, 20. To God be
honour and praise for ever and ever. Amen.

SERMON LXV.

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

ROMANS xi. 3.

0 the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and
knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his
judgments, and his ways past finding out!

ONE of the principal causes of the depravity
of mankind is, that they form mean ideas of
God. The idea of the God we adore, and the
notion of the morality we ought to practise,
are two things closely connected together. If
we consider God as a being elevated, great and
sublime, our morality will be great, sublime,
and elevated too. If, on the contrary, we con
sider God as a being whose designs are narrow,
whose power is limited, and whose plans are
partial, we shall practise a morality adapted to
such an imaginary God.

My brethren, there are two very different
ways of forming this sublime idea, which has
such an influence over religion and morality.

The magnificence of God may be understood
by what is known of God, by the things that
are made, by the brilliancy of the sun, by the
extent of the firmament, and by all the various
creatures which we behold; and judging of the
workman by the work, we shall exclaim in
sight of so many wonderful works, " O Lord,
how excellent is thy name in all the earth*
Thou hast set thy glory above the heavens.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy
fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast
ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful
of him? And the son of man that thou visitest
him?" Rom. i. 19, 20; PP. Iviii. 1. &c.

But there is another way to know the mag
nificence of God, a way less accessible indeed,
but more noble, and even more plain to the
man, the eyes of whose understanding are en
lightened, Eph. i. 18, that is, to judge of God,
not by the things that are seen, but by the
things that are not seen, not by what we know,
but by what we do not know. In this sublime
way the soul loses itself in a depth of divine
magnificence, like the seraphims, covers its face
before the majesty of God, and exclaims with
the prophet, " verily thou art a God that hidest
thyself," Isa. xlv. 15. "The secret things
belong unto the Lord oui God, but those things
which are revealed belong to us, and to our
children for ever," Deut. xxix. 29. It is on
this obscure side, that we propose to show you
the Deity to-day.

Darkness will serve us for light, and the im-

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

SER. LXV.]

penetrable depth of his decrees will fill our
minds with sound and practical knowledge.
" O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom
and knowledge of God! How unsearchable
are his judgments, and his ways past finding
out!"

In order to enter into the mind of the apostle,
it is necessary to observe the subject to which
he applies the text, and never to lose sight of
the design of this whole epistle. The apostle
chiefly proposes to counteract a scandalous
schism in the church of Rome. This church
'was composed of two sorts of Christians, some
converts from Judaism, others from Paganism.
The Jews considered the Gentiles with con
tempt, as they always had been accustomed to
consider foreigners. For their parts, they
thought they had a natural right to all the
benefits of the Messiah, because, being born
Jews, ,they were the legitimate heirs of Abra
ham, to whom the promise was made, whereas
the Gentiles partook of these benefits only by
mere favour. St. Paul attacks this prejudice,
proves that Jews and Gentiles, being all alike
under sin, had all an equal need of a covenant
of grace; that both derived their calling from
the mercy of God; that no one was rejected
VLB a Gentile, or admitted as a Jew: but that
they only should share the salvation published
by the Messiah who had been elected in the
eternal decrees of God. The Jews could not
relish such humbling ideas, nor accommodate
this doctrine to the prerogatives of their nation;
and much less could they admit the system of
the apostle on predestination. St. Paul em
ploys the chapter from which we have taken
our text, and the two chapters before to remove
their difficulties. He turns himself, so to
speak, on every side to elucidate the subject.
He reasons, proves, argues; but after he has
heaped proofs upon proofs, reasonings upon
reasonings, and solutions upon solutions, he
acknowledges, in the words of the text, that
he glories in falling beneath his subject. In
some sense he classes himself with the most
ignorant of his readers, allows that he has not
received a sufficient measure of the Spirit of
God to enable him to fathom such depths, and
he exclaims on the brink of this great profound,
" O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom
and knowledge of God! How unsearchable
are his judgments, and his ways past finding
out!" The apostle therefore wrote these words
of the "deep things of God" chiefly with a
view to the conduct of God with regard to such
as he appoints to glory, and such as he leaves
in perdition. I grant, were this text to be
accurately discussed, it ought to be considered

99

four different views, to open to you four great
deeps, and to give you four reasons for exclaim
ing with the apostle, "O the depth!"

The four ways in which God reveals himself
to man, are four manners to display his perfec
tions, and at the same time they are four abysses
in which our imperfect reason is lost. These
ways are — first, an idea of the Deity — secondly,
of nature — thirdly, of Providence— and fourth
ly, of revelation; four ways, if I may venture
to speak thus, all shining with light, and yet
all covered with adorable darkness.

1. The first mirror in which we contemplate
God, and at the same time the first abyss in
which our imperfect reason is lost, is the idea
we have of the divine perfections. This is a
path leading to God, a mirror of the Deity.
To prove this, it is not necessary to examine
how we came by this idea, whether it be natural
or acquired, whether we derive it from our
parents or our tutors, whether the Creator has
immediately engraven it on the mind, or whe
ther we ourselves have formed it by a chain of
principles and consequences; a question much
agitated in the schools, sometimes settled, and
sometimes controverted, and on which both
sides affirm many clear and substantial, though
opposite propositions. Of myself, I am always
fully persuaded that I have an idea of a Being
supremely excellent, and one of whose perfec
tions I am not able to omit without destroying
the essence of the Supreme Being to whom it
belongs. I know too that there must be some
where without me an object answering to my
idea; for as I think, and as I know I am not
the author of the faculty that thinks within me,
I am obliged to conclude that a foreign cause
has produced it. If this foreign cause is a being
that derives its existence from another foreign
cause, I am necessarily obliged to proceed from
one step to another, and to go on till I find a
self-existent being, and this self-existent being
is the infinite Being. I have then un idea of
the infinite Being. This idea is not a phantom
of my creation, it is the portrait of an original
that exists independently of my reflections.
This is the first way to the Creator; this is the
first mirror of his perfections.

O how long, how infinitely extended is this
way! How impossible for the mind to pervade
a distance so immense! How obscure is this
mirror! How is my soul dismayed when I at
tempt to sail in this immeasurable ocean!
An infamous man, who lived in the beginning
of the last century, a man who conceived the
most abominable design that ever was, who
formed with eleven persons of his own cast a
college of infidelity, from whence he might

in regard to these events, and these doctrines; ' send his emissaries into all the world to rase
but nothing hinders our examining it in a more out of every mind the opinion of the existence
nsive view. The apostle lays down a of a God, this man took a very singular me-

thod to prove that there was no God, that was

extensive

general maxim, and takes occasion from a

particular subject to establish a universal truth, I to state the general idea of God. He thought,

that is, that such is the magnificence of God ' to define was to destroy it, and that to say what

God is, was the best way to disprove his exist
ence. " God," said that impious man, " God
is a being who exists through infinite ages, and
yet is not capable of past or to comn, he fills
all without being in any place, he is fixed with-

that it absorbs all our thought, and that to
attempt to reduce the conduct of God to a level
with our frail reason is to be guilty of extreme
rashness.

This is what we will endeavour to prove. .,.,„.,..-,

Come, Christians, follow us, and learn to know I out situation, he pervades all without motion,
yourselves, and to feel your insignificance, he is good without quality, great without quan
tity, universal without parts, moving all tin

We are going, by showing you the Deity in |

imgs

TOO

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

[SER. LXV

without being moved himself, his will consti
tutes his power, and his power is confounded
with his will, without all, within all, beyond
all, before all, and aRer all."*

But though it be absurd to argue against the
existence of God from the eminence of his
perfections, yet it is the wisdom of man to de
rive from this subject inferences humbling to
his proud and infatuated reason. We detest
the design of the writer just now mentioned,
but we approve of a part of the definition
which our atheist gives of God. Far from
pretending that such a definition degrades the
object of our worship from his supreme rank
in the scale of beings, it inclines us to pay him
the most profound homage of which creatures
are capable, and to lay down our feeble reason
before his infinite excellence.

Yes, " God is a being who exists through in
finite ages; and yet is not capable of past or to
come." The vast number of ages which the
rapidity of time has carried away, are as pre
sent to him as this very indivisible moment,
and the most distant futurity does not conceal
any remote event from his eyes. He unites in
one single instant, the past, the present, and
all periods to come. He is by excellence, " I
am that I am." He loses nothing by ages
spent, he acquires nothing by succession. Yes,
" God fills all without being in any place.
Ascend up into heaven, he is there. Make
your bed in hell, behold he is there. Take the
wings of the morning, and dwell in the utter
most part of the sea, even there shall his hand
lead you. Say, surely the darkness shall cover
me, even the night shall be light about you,"
Ps. cxxxix. 8, &c. Yet he has no place, and
the quality by which our bodies are enclosed in
these walls, and adjusted with the particles of
air that surround us, cannot agree with his spi
rituality. " God pervades all without mo
tion." The quickness of lightning, which in
an instant passes from east to west, cannot
equal the rapidity with which his intelli
gence ascends to the highest heavens, descends
to the deepest abysses, and visits in a moment
all parts of the universe. Yet he is immovea-
ble, and does not quit one place to be present
in another, but abides with his disciples on
earth, while he is in heaven, in the centre of
felicity and glory. " His will constitutes his
power, and his power does not differ from his

* The book from which our author quoted the above
passage, is entitled Jlmpitheatrum aeternae providen-
tiae—adversus atheos, 8tc. Lyons. 1615. 8vo. The au
thor Vanini was a Neapolitan, born in 1585. He was
educated at Rome, and ordained a priest at Padua. He
travelled into many countries, and was persecuted in
most. In 1614 he was imprisoned in England for forty-
nine days. After his enlargement he became a monk in
Guienne. From the convent he was banished for his im
morality. He found, ho weYer, powerful patrons. Mares-
chal Bassompiere made him his chaplain, and his famous
Ampitheatre was approved by four persons, a doctor of
divinity, the vicar general of Lyons, the king's proctor,
and the lieutenant general of Lyons, in which they affirm,
" that having read the book, there was nothing in it con
trary to the Roman Catholic faith." one example of the
ignorance or carelessness, with which licensers of the
press discharge their office, and consequently one argu
ment among thousands for the freedom of the press. This
unfortunate man was condemned at Thoulouse to be burnt
to death, which sentence was executed Feb. 19, 1619.
The execution of this cruel sentence, cast into logical
form, runs thus: Vanini denied the being of a God — the
parliament of Thoulouse burnt Vanini— therefore there
u a God.

will." All creatures in the universe owe their
existence to a single act of his will, and a thou
sand new worlds wait only for such an act to
spring from nothing and to shine with glory.
" God is above all," all being subject to his
power. " Within all," all being an emana
tion of his will. "Before all, after all."
Stretch thine imagination, frail but haughty
creature, try the utmost efforts of thy genius,
elevate thy meditations, collect thy thoughts,
see whether thou canst attain to comprehend
an existence without beginning, a duration
without succession, a presence without circum
ference, an immobility without place, and agi
lity without motion, and many other attri
butes which the mind can conceive, but which
language is too imperfect to express. See,
weigh, calculate, " It is as high as heaven,
what canst thou do? Deeper than hell, what
canst thou know? Canst thou by searching
find out God? Canst thou find out the Al
mighty unto perfection?" Job ix. 7, 8. Let us
then exclaim on the border of this abyss, " O
the depth!"

II. The second way that leads us to the
Creator, and at the same time the second abyss
in which our reason is lost, is the works of na
ture. The study of nature is easy, and all the
works of nature have a bright and luminous
side. In the style of a prophet, " the heavens
have a voice, which declare the glory of God:"
and, as an apostle expresses it, " creation is a
visible image of the invisible things of God:"
yet there is also a dark obscure side. What a
prodigious variety of creatures are there be
yond the sphere of our senses! How many
thousands, how many " ten thousand times ten
thousand spirits called angels, archangels, che
rubim, seraphim, thrones, dominions, princi
palities, and powers," of all which we know
not either the properties, the operations, the
number, or the employment! What a prodi
gious multitude of stars and suns, and revolv
ing worlds, in comparison of which our earth
is nothing but a point, and of all which we
know neither the variety, the glory, nor the ap
pointment! How many things are there on
earth, plants, minerals, and animals, into the
nature and use of which the industry of man
could never penetrate! Why so much treasure
hid in the depths of the sea? Why such vast
countries, such impenetrable forests, and such
uninhabited climes as have never been sur
veyed, and the whole of which perhaps will
never be discovered? What is the use of some
insects, and some monsters, which seem to be
a burden to nature, and made only to disfigure
it? Why does the Creator deprive man of
many rich productions that would be of the
greatest advantage to him, while he abandons
them to beasts of the field or fishes of the sea,
which derive no benefit from them? Whence
came rivers, fountains, winds, and tempests,
the power of the loadstone, and the ebbing and
flowing of the tides? Philosopher! reply, or
rather avow your ignorance, and acknowledge
how deep the ways of your Creator are.

But it is but little to humble man to detect
his ignorance on these subjects. It is not as
tonishing that he should err in paths so sub
lime, and it is more glorious to him to have at
tempted these impracticable roads, than shame-

SER. LXV.]

ful to have done so without success. There
are other objects more proper to humble hu
man reason. Objects in appearance less sub
ject to difficulty absorb the mind of man, when
ever he attempts thoroughly to investigate
them. Let hirn consider himself, and he wil
lose himself in meditating on his own essence
What is man? What is that soul which thinks
and reflects? What constitutes the union of a
spirit with a portion of matter? What is tha
matter to which a spirit is united? So many
questions, so many abysses, so many unfathom
able depths in the ways of the Creator,

What is the soul of man? In what does its
essence consist? Is it the power of displaying
his faculties? But then this consequence would
follow, that a soul may have the essence of a
soul, without having ever thought, reasoned
or reflected, provided it has the power of doing
so. Is it the act of thinking? But then it
would follow, that a spirit, when it ceases to
think, ceases to be a spirit, which seems con
trary to experience. What then is a soul? Is
it a collection of successive thoughts? But
how can such and such thoughts, not one of
which apart is essential to a soul, constitute
the essence of it when they are joined together?
Is it something distinct from all these? Give
us, if it be possible, a clear idea of this subject.
What is a soul? Is it a substance immaterial,
indivisible, different from body, and which can
not be enveloped in its ruins? Certainly: but
when we give you this notion, we rather tell
you what the soul is not, than what it is. You
will say, you remove false notions, but you
give us no true and positive ideas; you tell us
indeed that spirit is not body, but you do not
explain what spirit is, and we demand an idea
clear, real, and adequate.

As I confound myself by considering the na
ture of my soul, so I am perplexed again when
I examine the union of this soul with this body.
Let us be informed, by what miracle a sub
stance without extension and without parts,
can be united to a substance material and ex
tended? What connexion is there between
willing to move and motion? What relation
has a trace on the brain to an idea of the mind?
How does the soul go in search of ideas before
ideas present themselves? If ideas present them
selves, what occasion for search? To have re
course to the power of God is wise, I grant,
if we avail ourselves of this answer to avoid
our iTnorance; but if we use it to cover that,
rf we pretend to explain every thing by saying
God is omnipotent, and can do all these things,
we certainly deceive ourselves. It is to say, I
know nothing, in philosophical terms, and
when, it should seem, we affect to say, I per
fectly understand it.

In fine, I demand an explication of the hu
man body. What am I saying? the human
body! I take the smallest particle of it; I take
only one atom, one little grain of dust, and I
give it to be examined by all the schools, and
all the universities in the world. This atom
has extent, it may be divided, it is capable of
motion, it reflects light, and every one of these
properties furnishes a thousand and a thousand

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

101

questions, which the greatest philosophers can
never answer.
. My brethren, when we are in the schools,

when we occupy the chair of a professor, when
we make it a law to answer every question, it
is easy to talk, and, as the Wise Man expresses
it, to " find a great deal to say."* There is an
art, which is called maintaining a thesis, and
this art is very properly named, for it does not
consist in weighing and solving difficulties, or
in acknowledging our ignorance; but in per
sisting to affirm our own position, and obsti
nately to defend it. But when we retire to
our studies, coolly meditate, and endeavour to
satisfy ourselves, if we hav,e any accuracy of
thought, we reason in another manner. Eve
ry sincere and ingenuous man must acknow
ledge that solidity, weight, light, and extent,
are subjects, on which many very curious, and
very finely imagined things have been said, but
which to this day leave the mind almost in as
much uncertainty as before. Thus the sub
lime genius, this author of so many volumes,
this consummate philosopher cannot explain
what a grain of dust is, so that one atom, one
single atom, is a rock fatal to all his philoso
phy, against it all his science is dashed, ship
wrecked, and lost.

Let us conclude that nature, this mirror de
scriptive of God, is dark and obscure. This is
emphatically expressed by two inspired writers,
the apostle Paul and holy Job. The first says,
" God hath made all nations of men, the earth,
the appointed seasons, and the bounds of men's
habitation, that they should seek the Lord, if
haply they might feel after him and find him,"
Acts xvii. 26. 29. " This is both a passable
road to God, and an unfathomable abyss."
' That they might seek the Lord;" this is a way
leading to God. " That they might find him
by feeling after him;" this is the abyss. In like
manner Job describes in lively colours the mul
titude and variety of the works of the Creator,
and finishes by acknowledging, that all we
tnow is nothing in comparison of what we are
gnorant of. u He stretched out the north over
;he empty place, and hangeth the earth upon
nothing. He hath compassed the waters with
>ounds. The pillars of heaven tremble, and
are astonished at his reproof. He divideththe
;ea with his power. By his spirit he hath gar-
lished the heavens, his hand hath formed the
xooked serpent." Yet " these are only part
of his ways!" Job xxvi. 7, &c. Weigh these
expressions well. This firmament, this earth,
these waters, these pillars of heaven, this bound
less space, the sun with its light, heaven with
its stars, the earth with its plants, the sea with
its fish, these, "lo, these are only parts of his
ways, but how little a portion is heard of him!"
The glorious extent of his power who can un
derstand! Let us then, placed as we are ou the
borders of the works of nature, humbly exclaim,
" O the depth!"

III. Providence is the third path to God, and
affords us new motives to adore his perfections:
but which also confounds the mind, and makes

* Ecclcs. vii. 29. The English translation of this text
is, man has sought out many inventions. The French
Bible reads, Ont cherche beaucoup de descours, that is,

ud

mankind has found out a great many questions to ask, an
a great many sophisms to affirm on this subject; or in
other words, a great deal to say concerning the original
rectitude of man. The original vague terms are ren
dered by some critics, Jpse se infinites miseuerit yuaes-
tionibus.

102

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

[SER. LXV

us feel that God is no less incomprehensible in
his manner of governing the world than in that
of creating it. It would be easy to prove this,
if time would allow us to examine the secret
way, which Providence uses to govern this uni
verse. Let us be content to cast our eyes a
moment on the conduct of Providence in the
government of the church for the last century
and a half.

Who would have thought that in a neigh
bouring kingdom a cruel and superstitious
king,* the greatest enemy that the Reformation
ever had, he, who by the fury of his arms and
by the productions of his pen, opposed this great
work, refuting those whom he could not perse
cute, and persecuting those whom he could not
refute, who would have thought that this mo
narch should first serve the work he intended
to subvert, clear the way for reformation, and
by shaking off the yoke of the Roman pontiff
execute the plan of Providence, while he seemed
to do nothing but satiate his voluptuousness and
ambition?

Who would have thought that the ambitious
Clement,! to maintain some chimerical rights,
which the pride of the clergy had forged, and
which the cowardice of the people and the
effeminacy of their princes had granted, who
would have believed, that this ambitious pope,
by hurling the thunders of the Vatican against
this king, would have lost all that great
kingdom, and thus would have given the
first stab to a tyranny, which he intended to
confirm?

Who would have imagined that Zuinglius
would have had such amazing success among
the people in the world the most inviolably at
tached to the customs of their predecessors, a
people scrupulously retaining even the dress of
their ancestors, a people -above all so inimical
to innovations in religion, that they will hardly
bear a new explication of a passage of Scripture,
a new argument, or a modern critical remark,
who would have supposed, that they could have
been persuaded to embrace a religion diametri
cally opposite to that which they had imbibed
with their mothers' milk? •

Who would have believed that Luther could
have surmounted the obstacles that opposed the
success of his preaching in Germany, and that
the proud emperor,]; who reckoned among his
captives pontiffs and kings, could not subdue
one miserable monk?

Who would have thought that the barbarous
tribunal of the inquisition, which had enslaved
so many nations to superstition, should have
been in these provinces one of the principal
causes of our reformation?

And perhaps the dark night, which now en
velops one part of the church, will issue in a
bright morning. Perhaps they, who in future
time speak of Providence, will have reason to
add to a catalogue of the deep things of divine
government, the manner in which God shall
have delivered the truth oppressed in a king
dom, where it once flourished in vigour and
beauty. Perhaps the repeated blows given to
the reformed may serve only to establish the
reformation. But we abridge this third article,

* Henry VIII. of England.
1 Chirks V.

t Pope Clement VII.

and proceed to the fourth, in which we are to
treat of the deptlis of revelation.

IV. Shall we produce the mortifying list of
unanswerable questions, to which many doc
trines of our religion are liable; as for example
those which regard the Trinity, the incarnation,
the satisfaction, the union of two natures in Je-
j sus Christ, the secret ways of the Holy Spirit
' in converting the souls of men. the precise na
ture of the happiness to be enjoyed in the inter
mediate state between our death and our resur
rection, the faculties of glorified bodies, the
recollection of what we shall have seen in this
world, and many more of the same kind?

All this would carry us too far from the prin
cipal design of the apostle. It is time to return,
to the precise subject, which inspired him with
this exclamation. The words of the text are,
as we have intimated, the conclusion of a dis
course contained in the ninth, tenth, and ele
venth chapters, of this epistle. Those chapters
are the cross of divines. The questions there
treated of concerning the decrees of God are so
abstruse, that in all ages of the church, and
particularly since the schism of Pelagius, di
vines, orthodox and heterodox, have employed
all their efforts to give us a system free from
difficulties, and they have all failed in their
design.

To enable you to comprehend this, we are
going succinctly to state their different systems;
and the short view we shall take will be suffi
cient to convince you, that the subject is beyond
the reach of the human mind, and that though
the opinion of our churches has this advantage
above others, that it is more conformable to
right reason, and to the decisions of Scripture,
yet it is not without its abysses and depths.

Let us begin with the system of Socinus and
his followers. God, according to them, not
only has not determined the salvation of his
children, but he could not even foresee it.
Whatever man resolves depends on his own
volition, and whatever depends on human vo
lition cannot be an object of the knowledge of
God, so that God could not foresee whether I
should believe or not believe, whether I should
obey or not obey, whether I should receive the
gospel or reject it. God made no other decree
than that of saving such as believe, obey, and
submit to his gospel: these things depend on my
will, what depends on my will is uncertain, aa
uncertain object cannot be an object of certain
knowledge: God therefore cannot certainly
foresee, whether my condition will be eternally
happy, or eternally miserable.

This is the system. Thanks be to God, we
preach to a Christian auditory. It is not ne
cessary to refute these errors, and you feel, I
persuade myself, that to reason in this manner
is not to elucidate, but subvert religion; it is at
once to degrade God from his deity, and Scrip*
ture from its infallibility.

This system degrades God, for what, pray, is
a God, who created beings, and who could not
foresee what would result from their existence?
A God who formed spirits united to bodies by
certain laws, and who did not know how to
combine these laws so as to foresee the effects
they would produce? A God forced to suspend
his judgment? A God who every day learns
something new, and who does not know to-day

SER. LXV.]

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

103

what will happen to-morrow. A God who can
not tell whether peace will be concluded, or
war continue to ravage the world; whether re
ligion will be received in a certain kingdom, or
whether it will be banished; whether the right
heir will succeed to the crown, or whether the '
crown will be set on the head of a usurper? For
according to the different determinations of the
wills of men, of kipgs, or people, the prince
will make peace, or declare war, religion will
be banished or admitted, the tyrant or the law
ful king will occupy the throne: for if God
cannot foresee how the volitions of men will be
determined, he cannot foresee any of these
events. What is this but to degrade God from
his Deity, and to make the most perfect of all
intelligences a being involved in darkness and
uncertainty like ourselves.

Farther, to deny the presence of God is to
degrade Scripture from its infallibility, for how
can we pretend to respect Scripture when we
deny that God knows the determinations, and
volitions of mankind? What then are we to
'understand by all the express declarations on
this subject? For example, what does the
psalmist mean? " O God, thou hast searched
and known me. Thou knowest my down-
sitting and up-rising, thou understandest iny
thoughts afar off. Thou art acquainted with
all my ways, for there is not a word in my
tongue but thou knowest it altogether," Ps.
cxx.xix. I, &c. What means God himself,
speaking by Ezekiel? " Thus saith the Lord to
the house of Israel, I know the thoughts that
carne into your mind every one of them," chap,
xi. 5. And again by Isaiah; " I know that thou
wouldst deal very treacherously," chap, xlviii.
8. What did St. Peter mean? speaking of his
own thoughts, he said, " Lord, thou knowest all
things," John xxi. 17. What does the Wise
Man mean, who assures us, not only that God
knows the hearts of kings, but that he has them
" in his hand, and turneth them whithersoever
he pleaseth as rivers of water!" Prov. xxi. 1.

Above all, how can this principle be recon
ciled to many express prophecies of events
which being closely connected with the volitions
of men could not have been certainly foretold,
unless God at the time had a certain knowledge
of these determinations? " The prescience of
God," says Tertullian, " has as many witnesses
as there are prophets and prophecies."* Had
not God foreseen that Jesus Christ would preach
the gospel in Judea, that the Jews would hate
him, that they would deliver him to Pilate, that
they would solicit his death, that Pilate would
have the meanness and pusillanimity to yield
to their entreaties; had not God known all these
things, how could he have predicted them?

But the men we oppose do not much respect
the decisions of Scripture. The principle to
which all this system tends, is, that reason is to
decide on the doctrines of Scripture, and not
that the doctrines of Scripture are to direct
reason. This principle once granted, all the
doetriijes of our faith are subverted, as expe
rience proves. See into what rash declarations
this principle had conducted Socinus and his
followers. What decision of Scripture, what
doctrine of faith, what truth however esta
blished, repeated, and enforced, has it not

* In bis second book against Marciou.

allured them to deny? The bondage of the hu
man will seems to destroy the nature of man:
this bondage must be denied. But the doctrine
of absolute decrees seems to disagree with the
liberty of man: these absolute decrees must be
denied. But the foreknowledge of God cannot
be allowed without the doctrine of decrees; the
foreknowledge of God must be denied. But a
thousand prophecies prove this prescience; the
mystical sense of these prophecies must be de
nied. But Jesus Christ has verified them: then
Jesus Christ must be denied his titles, his at
tributes, his works, his worship, his satisfaction,
his divinity, his union to God, his incarnation,
must all be denied: he must be made a mere
man, a prophet, a teacher, distinguished from
others only by some extraordinary talents: the
whole system of the gospel of salvation, and of
redemption must be denied. To follow these
ideas, my brethren, is to tumble from precipice
to precipice without knowing where we shall
stop.

We propose in the second place the system
of our brethren of the confession of Augsburgh,
and that of Arminius; for though they differ
in other articles, yet they both agree pretty
nearly in this point. Their system is this.
They grant foreknowledge; but deny foreap-
pointment. They allow indeed that God al
ways foresaw who would be happy in heaven,
and who victims in hell; but they tremble at
the thesis, which affirms that God predestinated
the first to felicity, and the last to misery. Ac
cording to them, God made no other decree
than to save believers, and to condemn infidels;
he gave all men assistance sufficient to enable
them to believe, and having only foreseen who
would believe, and who would not believe, he
made no decree to secure the faith of some,
and the unbelief of the rest.

Although it is never our custom to envenom
controversy, and to tax people with heresy for
not being of our opinion; though we would
rather reconcile opposite opinions than triumph
in refuting them; yet we cannot help making
three reflections. First, this system does not
agree with itself — secondly, it is directly oppo
site to many decisions of the Holy Spirit, and
particularly to the doctrine of the three chap
ters before us — and thirdly, should we grant
the whole, a thousand difficulties would re
main in the doctrine of the decrees of God,
and we should always be obliged to exclaim,
as these brethren must on this article, " O the
depth!"

1. We affirm, that this system is inconsist
ent with itself, that the doctrine of prescience
supposes that of predestination, and that un
less we deny that God foresaw our salvation,
we are obliged by our own thesis to affirm that
he predestinated us to it. I grant there is a
sense, in which it is tru6 that to foresee a thing
is different from determining to bring it to
pass: but there is another sense, in which to
foresee and foreappoint is one and the same
thing. If I foresee that a prince sending arm
ed troops into the house of the widow and or
phan will expose that house to pillage, it is
certain, my foresight has no influence in the
fate of that house, and in this case to foresee
the act of plundering is not a determination to
plunder. But if the prince foresee the event,

104

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

. LXV.

if he know the rage and fury with which his
soldiers are animated, if he knew by experi
ence that in such conjectures they have com
mitted such crimes, if, in spite of this pre
science, he send his madmen into this house,
if he allow them their armour, if he lay them
under no restraint, if he do not appoint any
superior officer to bridle their fury, do you not
think, my brethren, that to foresee and to re
solve this case are in him one and the same
thing?

Apply these reflections to our subject. Let
us suppose that before the creation of this
world God had subsisted alone, with one other
spirit such as you please to imagine. Suppose,
when God had formed the plan of the world,
he had communicated it to this spirit that sub
sisted with him. Suppose, that God who
formed the plan, and the intelligence to whom
he had communicated it, had both foreseen
that some men of this world would be saved
and others lost; do you not perceive, that there
would have been an essential difference be
tween the prescience of God, and the prescience
of the spirit we have imagined? The fore
knowledge of this last would not have had any
influence either over the salvation, or destruc
tion of mankind, because this spirit would
have foreknown, and that would have been all.
but is not the foreknowledge of God of another
kind? Is that a speculative, idle, and uninflu-
ential knowledge? He not only foresaw, but
he created. He not only foresaw that man be
ing free would make a good or ill use of his
liberty, but he gave him that liberty. To fore
see and to foreappoint in God is only one and
the same thing. If indeed you only mean to
affirm, by saying, that these are two different
acts, that God does no violence to his crea
tures, but that notwithstanding his prescience,
the one hardens himself freely, and the other
believes freely: if this be all you mean, give
us the right hand '-of fellowship, for this is ex
actly our system, and we have no need to as
perse one another, as both hold the same doc
trine.

There is a second inconvenience in the sys
tem of bare prescience, that is, that it does not
square with Scripture, which clearly establishes
the doctrine of predestination. We omit many
passages usually quoted in this controversy;
as that Jesus Christ said to his father, " I thank
,thee, O Father, that thou hast hid these things
from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed
them unto babes. Even so, Father, for so it
seemed good in thy sight," Matt. xi. 25. And
this of St. Paul, " God hath chosen us in him
before the foundation of the world, having pre
destinated us to the adoption of sons," Eph. i.
4. As this famous passage, " whom he did
foreknow them he did predestinate, and whom
he did predestinate them he also called," Rom.
viii. 28, 29.

We omit all these passages because our op
ponents dispute the sense we give of them, and
because it is but justice either to hear and an
swer their objections (which the limits of these
exercises will not allow) or not to make use of
them, for that would be taking for granted
what is not allowed, that is, that these pas
sages speak of predestination in our sense of
.the term. Let us content ourselves to oppose

against the doctrine of prescience without pre
destination these three chapters in Romans, of
which the text is the close.

I am aware of what is objected. It is said
that we make phantoms to combat, that the
meaning of St. Paul is clear, that the end he
had in view puts the matter out of doubt, and
that his end has no relation to absolute decrees
much less did he design to establish them.
The apostle had laid down this position, that
the gospel would hereafter be the only econo
my of salvation, and consequently that an ad
herence to the Levitical institution would be
fatal. The Jews object to this, for they could
not comprehend how an adherence to a divine
institution could lead to perdition. St. Paul
answers these complaints, by telling them that
God had a right to annex his grace to what
conditions he thought proper, and that the
Jews, having rejected the Messiah who brought
salvation to them, had no reason to complain,
because God had deprived them of a covenant)
the conditions of which they had not perform
ed. According to these divines this is all the
mystery of these chapters, in which say they,
there is no trace of predestination.

But how can this be supposed to contain the
whole design of the apostle? Suppose a Jew
should appear in this auditory, and make these
objections against us. You Christians form an
inconsistent idea of God. God said, the Mo-
saical worship should be eternal: but you say
God has abolished it. God said, "he that
doth these things shall live by them;" but you
say, that he who does these things shall go in
to endless perdition for doing them. God said,
the Messiah should come to the children of
Abraham; but you say, he has cast off the
posterity of the patriarch, and made a cove
nant with Pagan nations. Suppose a Jew to
start these difficulties, and suppose we would
wish simply to remove them, independently of
the decrees we imagine in God, what should
we say to this Jew? We should tell him first,
that he had mistaken the sense of the law;
and that the eternity promised to the Levitical
economy signified only a duration till the ad
vent of the Messiah. Particularly we should
inform him that his complaints against the
Messiah were groundless. You complain, we
should say, that God makes void his fidelity
by abandoning you, but your complaint is
unjust. God made a covenant with your fa
thers, he promised to bless their posterity, and
engaged to send your Redeemer to bestow
numberless benedictions and favours upon you.
This Redeemer is come, he was born among
you in your nation, of a family in one of your
own tribes, he began to discharge his office
among you, and set salvation before you; you
rejected him, you turned his doctrine into ridi
cule, you called him Beelzebub, you solicited
his death, at length you crucified him, and
since that you have persecuted him in his min
isters and disciples. On the contrary, the Gen
tiles display his virtues, and they are prodigal
of their blood to advance his glory. Is it sur
prising, that God so dispenses his favours as to
distinguish two nations so very different in the
manner of their obedience to his authority?

Instead of this, what does St. Paul? Hear
his answers. " Before the children were born^

SER. LXV.]

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

105

before they had done either good or evil, that
the purpose of God according to election might
stand, he saith, the elder shall serve the
younger. Jacob have I loved, but Esau have
I hated. I will have mercy on whom I will
have mercy, and I will have compassion on
whom I will have compassion. The Scripture
saith to Pharaoh, for this purpose have I raised
thee up that I might make my power known.
He hath mercy on whom he will have mercy,
and whom he will he hardeneth. Who art
thou who repliest against God? Shall the
thing formed say to him that formed it, why
hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter
power over the clay, of the same lump to make
one vessel to honour, and another to dishonour?
What if God willing to show his wrath, and
make his power known, endures with much
long-suffering the vessels of wrath prepared to
destruction?" Rom. ix. 11, &c. In all these
answers, St. Paul has recourse to the decrees
of God. And one proof that this is the doc
trine he intends to teach the converted Jew,
to whom he addresses himself, is, that this Jew
makes some objections, which have no ground
in the system we attack, but which are pre
cisely the same that have been always urged
against the doctrine of predestination. " Why
doth he yet find fault' For who hath resisted his
will?" Thus the system of prescience without
predestination does not agree with Scripture.

We ask, thirdly, what is the system good
for? Does it cast any light on the ways of
Providence? Does it fill up any of the depths
which absorb our imperfect reason? In a word,
is it not subject to the very same difficulties as
that of predestination? These difficulties are
the following, how could a God supremely
good create men, who he knew must be some
day infinitely miserable? How could a God in
finitely holy permit sin to enter the world?
How is it, that a God of infinite love to justice,
does not bestow on all mankind succour suffi
cient to render them perfectly holy? How it
came to pass that a God, who declares he
" would have all men to be saved," did not
reveal his will for the space of four thousand
years to any but the single nation of the Jews?
How is it that at this present time he does not
extend our conquests to the ends of the earth,
that we might carry thither the light of Chris
tianity, preach the gospel in idolatrous climes,
and the mosques of Mohammed? How does
he afford life, and health, and strength, and
courage, and opportunity to a creature, while
he prosecutes black and horrible crimes, which
make nature tremble? These are great diffi
culties in Providence. Let any one inform us
of a system without them, and we are ready
to embrace it: but in this system now before us
all these difficulties are contained, and should
we grant its advocates all they require, they
would be obliged however to exclaim with us
on the borders of the ways of God, " O the
depth!"

The third system is that of such divines as
are called Supralapsarians. The word supra-
lapsarian signifies above the fall, and these di
vines are so called because they so arrange the
decrees of God as to go above the fall of man,
as we are going to explain. Their grand prin
ciple is, that God made all things for his own

VOL. II.— 14

glory; that his design in creating the universe
was to manifest his perfections, and particular
ly his justice and his goodness; that for this
purpose he created men with design that they
should sin, in order that in the end he might
appear infinitely good in pardoning some, and
perfectly just in condemning others; so that
God resolved to punish such and such persons,
not because he foresaw they would sin, but he
resolved they should sin that he might damn
them. This is their system in a few words.
It is not that which is generally received in our
churches, but there have been many members
and divines among us who adopted and defend
ed it: but whatever veneration we profess for
their memory, we ingenuously own, we cannot
digest such consequences as seem to us neces
sarily to follow these positions. We will just
mention the few difficulties following.

First, we demand an explanation of what
they mean by this principle, " God has made
all things for his own glory." If they mean
that justice requires a creature to devote him
self to the worship and glorifying of his Creator,
we freely grant it. If they mean that the at
tributes of God are displayed in all his works,
we grant this too. But if this proposition be
intended to affirm that God had no other view
in creating men, so to speak, than his own
interest, we deny the proposition, and affirm
that God created men for their own happiness,
and in order to have subjects upon whom he
might bestow favours.

We desire to be informed in the next place,
how it can be conceived, that a determination
to damn millions of men can contribute to
" the. glory of God?" We easily conceive that
it is for the glory of divine justice to punish
guilty men: but to resolve to damn men with
out the consideration of sin, to create them that
they might sin, to determine that they should
sin in order to their destruction, is what seems
to us more likely to tarnish the glory of God
than to display it.

Thirdly, we demand, how according to this
hypothesis it can be conceived that God is not
the author of sin? In the general scheme of
our churches, God only permits men to sin,
and it is the abuse of liberty that plunges man
into misery. Even this principle, moderate as
it seems, is yet subject to a great number of
difficulties: but in this of our opponents, God
wills sin to produce the end he proposed in
creating the world, and it was necessary that
men should sin; God created them for that.
If this be not to constitute God the author of
sin, we must renounce the most distinct and
clear ideas.

Fourthly, we require them to reconcile this
system with many express declarations of
Scripture, which inform us, that " God would
have all men saved." How does it agree with
such pressing entreaties, such cutting reproofs,
such tender expostulations as God discovers in
regard to the unconverted; " O that my people
had hearkened unto me! O Jerusalem, Jeru
salem, how often would I have gathered thy
children together, even as a hen gathers her
chickens under her wings, and ye would not?"
Matt, xxiii. 37.

Lastly, we desire to know how it is possible
to conceive a God, who being in the actual

106

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

[SER. LXV.

enjoyment of perfect happiness, incomprehen
sible and supreme, could determine to add this
degree though useless to his felicity, to create
men without number for the purpose of con
fining them for ever in chains of darkness, and
burning them for ever in unquenchable flames.

Such are the gulfs opened to us by these
divines! As they conceive of the ways of God
in a manner so much beyond comprehension,
no people in the world have so much reason as
they to exclaim, " O the depth! How un
searchable are the ways of God!" For my
part, I own I cannot enough wonder at men,
who tell us in cool blood, that God created this
universe on purpose to save one man, and to
damn a hundred thousand; that neither sighs,
nor prayers, nor tears, nor groans, can revoke
this decree; that we must submit to the sen
tence of God, whose glory requires the creation
of all these people for destruction! I say I
cannot sufficiently express my astonishment at
seeing people maintain these propositions with
inflexibility and insensibility, without attempt
ing to mitigate or limit the subject, yea, who
tells us that all this is extremely plain and free
from every difficulty, and that none of our
objections deserve an answer.

Such being the difficulties of the several
systems of the decrees of God, it should seem
there is but one part to take, and that is to
embrace the plan of our churches; for although
it is evident by the reflections we have made,
that the subject is obscure, yet it is that of all
which is most conformable to the light of rea
son, and to the Holy Scriptures. We believe
that God from a principle of goodness, created
mankind — that it was agreeable to his wisdom
to form man free — that the root of mankind,
Adam, our unhappy father, abused this liberty
— that his descendants have added their natural
depravity, and to the sins of their ancestors,
many crimes of their own — that a conduct so
monstrous rendered parents and children wor
thy of eternal misery, so that without violating
the laws of justice God might for ever punish
both — that having foreseen from all eternity'*
these misfortunes, he resolved from all eternity
to take from this unworthy mass of condemned
creatures a certain number of men to be saved
— that for them he sent his Son into the world
— that he grants them his Spirit to apply the
benefits of the death of his Son — and that this
Spirit conducts them by the hearing of the
word to sanctification, and from sanctification
to eternal felicity. This in a few words is the
system of our churches.

Hereupon, if you ask how it happens that
two men to whom Christ is preached, the one
receives and the other rejects him? We an
swer with St. Paul, this difference is, " that
the purpose of God according to election might
etand." If you ask again whence comes this
choice, how is it that God chooses to give his
Spirit, and to display his mercy to one, and
that he chooses to make the other a victim to
his justice? We answer, " God hath mercy
on whom he will have mercy, and whom he
will he hardeneth," that is, leaves him to
his own insensibility. If you inquire farther
how God can without injuring his holiness,
leave a man to his own hardness? We re-
.ply, tliat God is master of his creature, and

that "the potter hath power over the clay
of the same lump to make one vessel unto
honour, and another unto dishonour." If you
still demand, what then is the use of our
ministry, and what right has God to complain
that so many sinners persist in impenitence,
since he has resolved to leave them in it? To
this we answer, " who art thou that replies!
against God? Shall the thing formed say to him
that formed it, why hast thou made me thus?"

After all these questions should you appeal to
our consciences to know whether our own an
swers fully satisfy ourselves; whether our argu
ments may not be turned against us; whether
the objections we have made against others do
not seem to conclude against ourselves; and
whether the system we have proposed to you
appears to ourselves free from difficulty; to this
we reply by putting our finger upon our mouth:
we acknowledge our ignorance, we cannot
rend the veil under which God has concealed
his mysteries: we declare, that our end in
choosing this subject was less to remove diffi
culties than to press them home, and by these
means to make you feel the toleration which
Christians mutually owe to one another on this
article. It was with this view that we led you to
the brink of this abyss of God, and endeavour
ed to engage you to exclaim here, as well as
on the borders of other abysses, " O the depth
of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge
of God! How unsearchable are his judgments,
and his ways past finding out!"

So much for the deep things of God consider
ed us objects astonishing and transporting the
mind. Now let us consider them as objects
productive of virtue and holiness. As the doc
trine we have been establishing is most sublime
in speculation, so is it most effectual in practice.
Recall what we said on the darkness in which
God conceals himself. Remember this obscu
rity is every where mixed with light, a sort of
twilight. There is obscurity in our natural
ideas, obscurity in the works of nature, obscu
rity in the conduct of Providence, obscurity in
many doctrines of revelation. Amidst all this
darkness, I discover one certain principle, one
particle of pure light emitting brightness with
out obscurity, one truth which natural ideas,
the whole creation, the ways of Providence,
and the language of revelation, concur to teach
us, that is, that a holy life is necessary.

We do not make this reflection by way of
introducing skepticism, and to diminish the
certainty of the doctrines, which it has pleased
God to reveal. Wo be to us, if while we la
bour with one hand to establish the foundations
of religion, we endeavour to subvert them with
the other! Far from us be those modern Va-
ninis, who, under pretence of making us con
sider the Deity as covered with holy darkness,
would persuade us that he is an inconsistent
being, and that the religion he addresses to us
shocks reason, and is incompatible with itself.
But whence is it, pray, that amidst all the
obscurities that surround us, God has placed
practical duties in a light so remarkably clear?
Whence is it that doctrines most clearly re
vealed are however so expressed as to furnish
difficulties, if not substantial and real, yet likely
and apparent: and that the practical part is so
clearly revealed that it is not liable to any

SER. LXV.]

THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD.

107

objections which h^ve any show or colour of
argument' My brethren, either we must deny
the wisdom of the Creator, or we must infer
this consequence, that wh^t is most necessary
to be known, what vill be most fatal to man
to neglect, what we ought most inviolably to
preserve, is practical religion. Let us apply
this general reflection to the deep decrees of
God. If the " foundation of God stands sure,"
you can have no true joy or solid content, till
you have each of you decided this great ques
tion; am I one of the " vessels of mercy de
creed unto glory?" Or am I one of the " ves
sels of wrath fitting to destruction?" But how
can I satisfy myself on this question at the same
time so obscure and so important? The decree
is impenetrable. The book of life is sealed.
We have told you a thousand times, that there
is no other way" than by examining whether you
bear the marks of election, and your whole
vocation is to endeavour to acquire them.
These characters, you know, are patience,
gentleness, charity, humility, detachment from
the world, and all other Christian virtues. It
belongs to you to exercise them. A little less
speculation and more practice. Let us become
less curious, and try to be more holy. Let us
leave God to arrange his own decrees, and for
our parts let us arrange our actions, and regu
late our lives. Do not say, if I be predesti
nated to salvation I shall be saved without en
deavouring. You would be wicked to make
this objection, for although you are persuaded
that your days are numbered, yet you do not
omit to eat, and drink, and take care of your
health. In this manner you should act in re
gard to your salvation.

And we, ministers of Jesus Christ, what is
pur duty? Why are we sent to this people? Is
it to fathom the decrees of predestination and
reprobation? As the Spirit of God has reveal
ed these mysteries, it is right to treat of them
in the course of our ministry, and we should
" think more highly of ourselves than we ought
to think," were we to suppress this part of re
ligion. But after all, must we stop here? Must
this be the principal subject of our sermons?
God forbid we should so ill understand the end
of our ministry! I would as willingly see a
physician, when he is consulted in a dangerous
illness, employ himself in discoursing on the
term of human life, haranguing his patient,
telling him that his days are numbered, and
that a hair of his head could not fall without
the will of God. Unseasonable orator, leave
talking, and go to work, consult the symptoms
of my illness, call art and nature to my assist
ance, leave God to execute his own decrees,
prescribe the remedies I must take, and the
regimen I must follow, endeavour to strengthen
this tottering body, and to retain my breath
just ready to evaporate. Let us apply this
image. Let us think of the account we must
give to the master who sent us. Let us take
care that he does not say to us in the great day
of judgment, Get ye behind me ye refractory
servants! I sent you to make the church holy,
and not render it disputatious: to confirm my
elect, and not to engage them in attempts to
penetrate the mysteries of election, to announce
my laws, and riot to fathom my decrees.

But not to confine ourselves to these general

remarks, let us observe, thai obscurity in regard
to God affords powerful arguments against th»
rash divine, the indiscreet zealot, the Jimorou*
Christian, and the worldly man attached to
sensible objects.

This subject addresses itself to you rash di
vines, you who perplex your mind by trying
to comprehend incomprehensible truths, to you
whose audacious disposition obliges you to run
into one of these two extremes, either to em
brace error or to render truth doubtful by the
manner of explaining it. For understand, my
brethren, the man who rejects a truth because
he cannot comprehend it, and he who would
fully comprehend it before he receives it, both
sin from the same' principles, neither under
stands the limits of the human mind. These
two extremes are alike dangerous. Certainly
on the one hand we must be very rash, we
must entertain very diminutive ideas of an in
finite God, we must be very little versed in
science to admit only principles which have
no difficulty, and to regard the depth of a sub
ject as a character of falsehood. What! A
miserable creature, an ignorant creature, a
creature that does not know itself, would know
the decrees of God, and reject them if they be
unfathomable! But on the other hand, we
must have very narrow views, we must have
a very weak mind, we must know very little
of the designs of God, not to feel any difficulty,
to find every thing clear, not to suspend our
judgment upon any thing, to pretend not only
to perceive the truth of a mystery, but to go to
the bottom of it. Insignificant man, feel thy
diminutiveness. Cover thyself with dust, and
learn of the greatest of divines to stop where
you ought to stop, and to cry on the brink of
the ocean, " O the depth!"

The deep things of God ought to confound
the indiscreet zealot, who decries and reviles
all opinions different from his own, though in
matters in themselves dark and obscure. Here
we pour our tears into the bosoms of our bre
thren of Augsburgh, some of whose teachers
describe us in the most odious colours, dip their
pen in gall when they write against us, tax us
with making of the Deity a God cruel and
aarbarous, a God who is the author of sin, and
who by his decrees, countenances the depravity
and immorality of mankind. You see, whether
this be our doctrine. You see, we join our
voices with those of seraphims, and make our
assemblies resound with " Holy, holy, holy is
the Lord of hosts." You see, we exhort our
people to " enter in at the strait gate," and

" work out their salvation with fear and
trembling." But, say you, do not the conse
quences we impute to you follow from your
principles? To grant for a moment that they
io follow, is it not sufficient that we disown
and condemn them? Does not such an answer
irom you concerning another doctrine satisfy
us? Accuse us of being bad reasoners: but do
not accuse us of being wicked men. Accuse
us of reasoning inconclusively; but do not ac
cuse us of exercising a faithless ministry. But,
say you, you have divines among you who
poison controversy, who refute with bitterness,
who excommunicate such as are not of their
sentiments on predestination, and who, had
they power equal to their will, would establish,

108

THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS

[SER. LXVI.

every opinion with fire and blood. Have we
such divines? Ah! may God deliver us from
them! They follow their own spirit, and not
the spirit of our churches. Our churches never
separated any person from their communion
for not believing predestination. You know
this by experience. Do we not open our arms
to you? Do we not receive you into our com
munion? Have we not a sincere and ardent
desire to be in union with you? O that God
would hear our prayers! Spouse of Jesus
Christ! O that God would put an end to the
intestine wars that tear thee asunder! Chil
dren of the Reformation! O that you had but
the wisdom to unite all your efforts against the
real enemy of the Reformation, and of the re
formed! This is our wish, and these shall in
cessantly be our prayers.

The depths of the ways of God may serve
to reprove the timid and revolting Christian;
a character too common among us. Our faith
forsakes us in our necessities; we lose the sure
anchor of hope in a storm; we usually dash
against rocks of adversity; we are confounded
when we see those projects vanish, on the suc
cess of which we rested our happiness, and the
prosperity of the church. My brethren, let
us be more firm in our principles. Christian
prudence indeed will oblige us to put our hand
to every good work. We must be vigilant,
assiduous, exact in our own affairs. In like
manner in public dangers, we must assemble
wise men, raise armies, and every one must
endeavour to do what is in his power, and carry
a stone towards the building of the temple: but
when our designs fail, let us be steady, im-
moveable, unchangeable. Let us remember
that we are only little children in comparison
with the Intelligence at the helm of the world;
that God often allows us to use just and
rational means, and at length frustrates all
our designs in order to deliver us by unexpected
methods, and to save us with more conspicuous
power and glory.

When I am to penetrate this truth, I fix my
ey"es on the great enemy of religion. I see
him at first equalling, yea surpassing the most
superb potentates, risen to a point of elevation
astonishing to the whole world. His family
numerous, his armies victorious, his territories
extended far and wide, at home and abroad.
I see places conquered, battles won, and every
blow aimed at his throne, serving only to esta
blish it. I see a servile idolatrous court ele
vating him above men, above heroes, and
likening him to God himself. I see all parts
of the world overwhelmed with his troops,
your frontiers threatened, religion trembling,
and the Protestant world at the brink of ruin.
At the sight of this tempest, I expect every
moment to see the church expire, and I exclaim,
O thou little boat, driven with the wind, and
battered in the storm! Are the waves going
to swallow thee up? O church of Jesus Christ!
against which the gates of hell were never to
prevail, are all my hopes come to this! — Be
hold Almighty God makes bare his holy arm,
discovers himself amidst all this chaos, and
overwhelms us with miracles of love, after
having humbled us by the darkness of his Pro
vidence. Behold! In two campaigns,* more

Of Hochstet and Ramillies,

than a hundred thousand enemies are either
buried in the waves, or killed by our troops,
or trodden to death by our horse, or taken
prisoners. Behold! whole provinces yield to
our arms. Behold! our noble army covered
with more laurels than we had ever seen be
fore. Behold the fatal power that was just
now exalted to heaven, shaking, falling, and
about to be cast down to hell. My brethren,
let these events make us wise. Let us not
judge of the conduct of God by our own ideas,
but let us learn to respect the depths of his
Providence.

But what! shall we always live in shades
and darkness! Will there always be a veil be
tween the porch and the sanctuary? Will God
always lead us among chasms and gulfs? Ah!
my brethren, these are precisely the ejacula
tions, these are the desires with which we
would inspire you; and this we affirm, that
the deep things of God expose the folly of a
worldly man, who immoderately loves the pre
sent life. Presently this night, this dark night,
shall be at an end; presently we shall enter
into that temple, " where there is no need of
the sun, because the Lamb is the light there
of," Rev. xxi. 23. Presently we shall arrive
at that blessed period, when that which is in
part shall be done away. In heaven we shall
know all things. In heaven we shall under
stand nature, providence, grace, and glory. In
heaven, Jesus Christ will solve all our diffi
culties and objections. In heaven we shall see
God face to face. O how will this knowledge
fill us with joy! O how delightful will it be to
derive knowledge and truth from their source!
My soul, quit thy dust! Anticipate these pe
riods of felicity, and say with Moses, " Lord,
show me thy glory!" O Lord, dissipate the
clouds and darkness that are around thy throne!
O Lord shorten the time that separates us! ...
" No man can see my face and live." Well!
Let us die then. Let us die to become im
mortal. Let us die to know God. Let us
die to be made partakers of the divine nature.
<Happy to form such elevated wishes! Happier
still to see them accomplished! Amen.

SERMON LXVI.

THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS
BY JESUS CHRIST.

MATTHEW xxvi. 24.

The Son of man goelh as it is written of him:
but wo unto that man by whom the Son of man
is betrayed: it had been good for that man, if he
had not been born.

THIS verse is part of a period beginning at
;he seventeenth, and ending with the twenty-
ifth verse, in which the evangelist narrates
two events, the last passover of Jesus Christ,
and the treason of Judas. One of my col-
eagues will explain the other parts of this pas
sage of sacred history, and I shall confine my-
jelf to this sentence of our Saviour against Ju
das, " It had been good for that man, if he had
not been born."

This oracle is unequivocal. It conveys a

SER. LXVL]

BY JESUS CHRIST.

109

most melancholy idea of the condition of the
unhappy criminal. It should seem, Jesus Christ
enveloped in qualified terms a truth the most
dreadful imaginable. These words^ "It had
been good for that man, if he had not been
born," are equivalent to these, Judas is for ever
excluded from the happiness of heaven; Judas
is for ever condemned to the punishment of
hell. It is the same truth, which the apostles
expressed, after the example of their master,
in milder terms, " Thou Lord, which knowest
the hearts of all men, show whether thou hast
chosen Justus or Matthias, that he may take
part of this apostleship, from which Judas by
transgression fell, that he might go to his own
place," Acts i. 24 — 28. What is this place?
The answer is easy, though some ancient here
tics affirm extravagant things about it. It is
the place reserved for those against whom the
door of mercy is shut: it is the place reserved
for those who must for ever serve for victims
of divine justice.

If you recall to mind all the most guilty
persons, and those whose condition is the most
desperate, you will not find one of whom that
can be said without rashness which is here af
firmed of Judas, Judas is the only person, lite
rally the only person, whom we are allowed
with certainty to declare is in the torments of
hell. Certainly we cannot help forming la
mentable ideas of the condition of some sin
ners, who died in perpetrating their crimes; as
of some who were less men than monsters of
humanity, and who died blaspheming God,
and attacking religion and morality, as Pha
raoh, Belshazzar, Julian, and others; but after
all, it is not for us to set limits to the mercy of
God. The Holy Spirit has ways unknown to
us to convert the hearts of men. Judas is the
only one without exception, of whom I dare
venture to affirm, he is irrecoverably lost. And
when I form this judgment of his destiny, I do
not ground it merely on his betraying Jesus
Christ; for it is not impossible that after he
had committed that crime he might have ob
tained forgiveness by repentance. I do not
ground it on the manner of his death, for he
was distracted, and madness is sometimes
caused by trouble, and in such a case reason
has no share, and divine justice does not im
pute sin to a man deprived of his senses. I
ground my judgment of the punishment of
Judas on the words of my text, " It had been
good for that man, if he had not been born;"
words never denounced by the Spirit of God
against any other wretch that ever was. Thus
the object which I exhibit to your view to-day,
is not only a particular object, but is even an
unique, a sole, a single object.

But perhaps, because it is a singular case,
you think it does not regard you, and that you
need not make any inferences concerning your
own eternal destiny from it. And does not this
object regard your Alas! My brethren, I dare

not but however hear me; condescend

to accompany me in this mortifying and (I
must tell you, how improper soever it may
seem to reconcile your attention) deign to ac
company us in this alarming meditation.
Come and examine wha.t a melancholy like
ness there is between the features of some of
our hearers, and those of the miserable Judas.

How like are their dispositions! How sad so
ever the examination may be, there is at least
one comfortable consideration, at least one dif
ference between them and this traitor, that is,
Jesus Christ has pronounced the decree of his
condemnation, whereas he has not yet pro
nounced the sentence on my hearers; the door
of mercy is yet open to them, the time of their
visitation is not yet quite expired. O that
they would avail themselves of the few inesti
mable moments that remain! O that they
would throw themselves at the feet of that
Jesus whom they have so often betrayed! O
that they may be washed in that blood which
they have so unworthily trodden under foot!
God Almighty grant, for his great mercy's
sake, that this may be the effect of this dis
course! Grant, O God, that such of us as are
3est established in piety may be filled with
holy fear, by seeing to what excess self-interest
may be carried! " O Lord, incline my heart
unto thy testimonies, and not unto covetous-

ss." Amen.

" It had been good for that man if he had
not been born," or what is the same thing in
this place, " If he had never existed, and were
not to exist any longer." Let us first explain
the meaning of Jesus Christ by a few reflec
tions, and justify the idea I have given you of
the words.

1 . Existence is the foundation of happiness
and misery. Nothing has no properties. Not
to exist is to be neither happy nor miserable.
To exist is to be capable of one or the other,
or both together. Existence considered in it
self, is indifferent to the being existing; it is
the happiness or the misery with which it is
accompanied, which determines the value of
it. If it were possible for a man to exist with
out being either happy or miserable, his exist
ence would be in some sort useless and indif
ferent, and it would be true in regard to him,
that it would be neither good nor evil to him
to be born or not to be born. If the existence
of a man be accompanied with equal degrees
of happiness and misery, we must form the
same judgment; misery is compensated by
happiness, and happiness by misery, the ba
lance is equal, and preponderates neither way.
If there be more happiness than misery in his
existence, it is true in regard to him, that it is
better for him to be than not to be; on the
contrary, if misery exceed happiness, ....
finish this proposition yourselves, and apply it
to the subject in hand. " It had been good for
Judas if he'had not been born." So Jesus
Christ declares. The existence of Judas then
must be attended with more misery than hap
piness. This is our first reflection.

2. To judge whether a man be happy or
miserable, whether it would be better for him
to exist or not to exist, we must not consider
him in regard to a few moments, but in the
whole of his existence; we must examine
whether all things considered good be greater
than evil, or evil greater than good. The
good and ills of past life generally leave no im
pression on our minds, they contribute only
to our present happiness or misery, and there
remains nothing but a remembrance of them.
If you can judge of the happiness or misery of
man by his actual condition, you will say ia

lie

THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS

LXVI.

each moment of his happiness, it is better for
him to be than not to be; and during every
moment of his misery, you will say, it is better
for him not to exist. But, as I said before, it
is not in regard to a single instant that a man
Ought to be considered to determine whether
he be happy or miserable; it is in the whole
of his existence.

I make this reflection to prevent your sup
posing that when Jesus Christ said, " It had
been good for Judas if he had not been born,"
he meant Judas should be annihilated. Had
Judas been annihilated after death, it must be
Said, according to our first proposition, that
Judas after death would not be either happy
or miserable; that it would not have been
either good or evil for him to be born or not to
be born. In this case, to form a just idea of
(he value of the existence of Judas, it would
be necessary to compare the misery of his end
with the happiness of his .life, and as we have
no reason to think he had been more miserable
than happy in his life, as we have reason to
presume, on the contrary, that having been in
a middling state of life, he had enjoyed the
gifts of nature with some kind of tranquillity,
it could not be affirmed, strictly speaking, that
because he died a violent death, " it had been
good for him if he had not been born." The
death of Judas separated from its consequences
was not more miserable than that of a man
who dies in his bed after lying ill some days;
and as we cannot affirm of a man, who after
enjoying a tranquil life dies by an illness of
some days, that " it had been good for that
man if he had not been born," so neither can
we affirm of Judas, if he had been annihilated
after death. When Jesus Christ says, " it had
been good for that man if he had not been
born," he supposes he would subsist after
death. He compares the condition he would
be in after death with all the good he had en
joyed, and would enjoy during life; and by
thus forming his judgment on the whole of
existence, he determines that the existence of
this traitor would be accompanied with more
evil than good, and he pronounces. " it would
have been good for that man if he had not been
born," that is to say, if he never had existed,
and if he never were to exist any longer. This
is our second reflection.

3. Whatever misfortunes attend the present
life, there are few men, who, all things consi
dered, would not rather choose to live for ever,
as we live in this world, than to be annihilated
after living a few years. I do not inquire
whether their choice be good; I only say it is
their choice, the fact is incontestable. If few
men be of the mind of Meecenas, who said,
" Let me suffer, let me be despised, and mise
rable, yet I would rather exist than not exist,"
if there be, I say, few men of the opinion of
this favourite of Augustus, there are few also
who adopt the sentiment of the Wise Man, or
shall I say of the fool? (for there is some rea
son to doubt, whether it be the language of
Solomon or the fool introduced in the book,")
*' I praised the dead which are already dead,
more than the living which are yet alive: yea,
better is he than both they, which hath not yet
been," Eccles. iv. 2, 3. To consider things as
they usually are, whatever misfortunes attend

life, mankind prefer life before annihilation.
Whether their taste be good or bad, we do not
inquire now, we speak of a fact, and the fact is
indisputable. Jesus Christ speaks to men, he
supposes their ideas to be what they are, and
he speaks according to these ideas. When he
says, " it had been good for Judas, if he had
not been born," he means that his misery
would be greater after death than it had been
during his life; for how disgusting soever life
may be, mankind prefer it before annihilation;
and if Judas had no other punishment to suf
fer for his perfidy than such as belonged to the
present state, Jesus Christ would not have
said, "it had been good for that man if he had
not been born." He intended we should un
derstand that. Judas would be more miserable
in a future economy, than we are in this life,
in spite of the maladies to which our frailty
exposes us, in spite of the vicissitudes we ex
perience, and in spite of the sacrifices, which
we are daily required to make.

4. If, as vve said at first, the sentence of
Jesus Christ against Judas be expresssed in
mild terms, we must, in order fully to compre
hend the sense, lay aside the soft language,
and advert to the terrible subject. But can we
without rashness change the terms of a sen
tence which the Saviour pronounced, and givo
the whole of what he spoke only in part? Yes,
provided the part we add be taken not from
our own systems, but from that of Jesus Christ,
who only can fill up the space which sufficient
I reasons induced him to leave vacant when he
gave out this sentence. Now we find two
things in the system of Jesus Christ on this
subject. First, that the misery denounced
against Judas is of the most dreadful kind.
And secondly, that Jesus Christ denounces
against him the greatest degree of misery of
this kind. Or to express myself more clearly,
my first proposition is, that every place in hell
is intolerable. My second proposition is, that
Jesus Christ doomed Judas to the most intole
rable place in hell.

t Does our first proposition need proving? I
lay aside what the Scripture tells us of the
"lake," the "bottomless pit," the "brim
stone," the " smoke," the " darkness," the
" chains of darkness," the " worm that never
dies, and the fire that is never quenched."
Frightful objects! I have no need to recollect
you to form gloomy images of the state of the
damned. My idea of heaven is sufficient to
give me a horrible image of hell. " Pleasures
at God's right hand for evermore;" joy of an in
telligent creature finding his knowledge for ever
on the increase; calm of a conscience washed
in the blood of the Lamb; freedom from all
the maladies that afflict poor mortals, from all
the inquietudes of doubt, and from all the
turbulence of the passions: society of angels,
archangels, cherubim, and all that multitude
of intelligences, which God has associated
both in rectitude and glory: close communion
with the happy God; felicity of heaven: it is
you that makes me conceive the horrible state
of hell! To be for ever deprived of your
charms, this alone is enough to make me trem
ble at the idea of hell.

But if every place in hell be intolerable,
some are more so than others. When, by fol-

SER. LXVI.]

BY JESUS CHRIST.

Ill

lowing the genius of the gospel, you examine
for whom divine justice reserves the most dread
ful punishments, you easily conceive it is for
such men as Judas, and you will agree (with
out our staying now to prove it) that as Jesus
Christ denounced the worst kind of punish
ment against him, so he doomed him to suffer
the greatest degree of that kind of punishment.

In fine, our last remark on the words of Je
sus Christ is, that when he said, " it had been
good for that man if he had not been born" or
" had he never existed," he supposed not only
that the punishment of Judas did not exist in
annihilation, but that it would not be in his
power not to exist. He supposed that Judas
Was not master of his own existence, and that
it did not depend on him to continue or to put
an end to it, as he should think proper. Ex
istence considered in itself is indifferent. We
have explained in what sense, and we have
proved that it is the happiness or misery, which
attends it, that determines the worth of it. —
Now, whatever the pain of hell may be, it need
not alarm us, if the Creator when he caused
us to exist gave us the power of remaining in
it or quitting it. In this case it would always
depend on us to get rid of punishment, because
it would depend on us to cease to exist, and we
might enter into that state of annihilation
which we said was neither happy or misera
ble, but we have not this power over ourselves.
As an act of omnipotence was necessary to
give us existence, so is it to deprive us of it;
and as it belongs to none but Almighty God to
perform the first of these acts, so it belongs
only to him to effect the second: so absolute,
so entire is our dependence upon him!

I do not know what is intended by the " star"
mentioned in the ninth chapter of Revelation.
St. John represents it as " falling from heaven
unto the earth," as having " the key of the
bottomless pit," as causing a " smoke to arise,"
by which the " sun and the air were darkened,"
and out of which came "locusts upon the
earth." But I am persuaded, that in a system
of irreligion nothing can be imagined more
dreadful than the miseries which the Holy
Spirit here says these infernal locusts inflict
upon mankind. These were commanded "not
to kill," but to "torment five months" such
men as " had not the seal of God in their
foreheads." And " in those days shall men
seek death, and shall not find it, and shall de
sire to die, and death shall flee from them. It
is a miserable relief, I grant, to destroy one's
self to avoid divine punishment. But does
death put an end to our existence? Is a sinner
less in the hand of God in the grave, than he
is during this life? " Whither shall I go from
thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy
presence?" Ps. cxxxix. 7.

What misery in the eyes of an irreligious
man to be tormented through life, and to be
deprived of a relief which the wretched almost
always have in view, I mean death! For how
many ways are there of getting rid of life?
And to what degree of impotence must he be
reduced who is not able by any means to put
an end to life? " In those days shall men seek
death, and shall not find it, and shall desire to
die, and death shall flee from them."

But if the greatest misery in the account of

an irreligious man be not to have the power of
getting rid of the troubles of a few years by
destroying himself, what will be the state of
the damned to see themselves under a fatal ne
cessity of existing for ever, and of not having
the power of terminating their existence, and
of sinking into nothing? What despairing and
cruel complaints will this necessity of existing
cause? In vain will they seek refuge in " dens"
and chasms of the earth! In vain will they
implore " mountains and rocks to fall on them
and hide them!" In vain will they " curse the
day," and execrate " the night of their birth!"
They will be obliged to exist, because A.
mighty God will refuse them that act of om
nipotence, without which they cannot be an
nihilated.

Such will be the misery of the damned, and
such is the extreme misery to which Jesus
Christ adjudges Judas. But this man, you
will say, had a dark perfidious soul, he was a
traitor, he had the infamy to betray his Saviour,
and to sell him for thirty pieces of silver; this
man was such a monster as nature hardly pro
duces in many centuries. My brethren, I am
come now to the most odious but most neces
sary part of my discourse. I must enter on
the mortifying task of examining whether there
be any resemblance between some of this as
sembly and the unhappy Judas. What a task
to perform in such an auditory as this! What
a gospel to preach to Christians! What mur
murs are we going to excite in this assembly!
" The word of the Lord was made a reproach
unto me, and a derision daily. Then I said, I
will not make mention of him, nor speak any
more in his name. But his word was in mine
heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones,
arid I was weary with forbearing, and I could
not stay," Jer. xx. 8, 9.

Do not think that I intend to conclude my
discourse by abusing the liberty given me of
speaking in this pulpit, by attempting to make
an ingenious essay on a subject the most grave
and solemn; be not afraid of my extenuating
the crimes of Judas, and exaggerating yours.
How is it possible to extenuate the crimes of
Judas? When I represent to myself a man
whom the Saviour distinguished in a manner
so remarkable, a man who travelled with him,
a man to whom he had not only revealed the
mysteries of his kingdom, but whom he asso
ciated with himself to teach them to the world,
to subvert the empire of Satan and set his cap
tives free, and to preach this gospel, "lay not
up for yourselves treasures upon earth, but lay
up for yourselves treasures in heaven, for where
your treasure is there will your heart be also.
Sell that you have, and give alms, provide
yourselves bags that wax not old, a treasure in
the heavens that faileth not," Matt. vi. 19, &c.
Luke xii. 33. When I consider this man freely
opening his heart to the demon of avarice, par
leying with the most obstinate enemies of his
divine master, proposing to deliver him up to
their barbarity, agreeinar on the price of trea
son, executing the horrible stipulation, coming
at the head of the most vile and infamous mob
that ever was, giving the fatal signal to his un
worthy companions, kissing Jesus Christ, and
saying while he saluted him, " hail master;"
when I consider this abominable man, far from

THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS

[SER. LXVI.

attempting to extenuate his crime, I can find
no colours dismal enough to describe it. No:
I tremble at the bare idea of this monster, and
involuntarily exclaim, " O execrable love of
money! to what wilt thou not impel the hearts
of men!"*

But does this odious picture resemble none
but Judas? Ah! When I imagine a Christian
born in this age of knowledge, a Christian
with the gospel in his hand, convinced of the
truth and beauty of religion, a Christian com
municant at the table of Jesus Christ, who has
vowed a hundred times an eternal obedience
to God, and has " tasted the good word of God,
and the powers of the world to come:" when
I consider this Christian full of contrivances,
intriguing in certain circles, exposing to the
world a spectacle of immodesty, resisting the
ministry, exclaiming against such religious dis
courses as his depravity forbids him to obey;
or, to confine myself to the disposition of Ju
das, when I observe this Christian-like Judas
possessed with the demon of avarice, harden
ing his heart against the cries of the wretched,
pillaging the widow and the fatherless of their
daily bread, selling his own soul and the souls
of his children rather than break through a pa
pal interdict, rather than quit a country where
truth is hated and persecuted, where there is
no public worship during life, no consolations
at the hour of death: when I consider such
Christians, I protest, I almost pity Judas, and
turn all my indignation against them.

My brethren, I said, and I repeat it again,
the task is mortifying, the matter is offensive,
but I must come to it, " if I seek to please men,
I shall not be the servant of Christ." Let us
lay aside vague ideas, and let us enter on some
detail. Let us describe Judas, but let us not for
get ourselves, too much resembling this ugly
man. Let us examine, first, the passion that
governed him — next, the crime to which it im
pelled him — then, the circumstances in which
he committed it — fourthly, the pretexts with
which he covered it — and finally, the confes
sion he was compelled to make.

1. What passion governed Judas? Every
one knows it was avarice. Which of us is
given up to this passion? Rather which of us
is free from it?

Avarice may be considered in two different
points of light. It may be considered in those
men, or rather those public bloodsuckers, or,
as the officers of the Roman emperor Vespa
sian were called, those sponges of society, who
infatuated with this passion seek after riches
as the supreme good, determine to acquire it
by any methods, and consider the ways that
lead to wealth, legal or illegal, as the only road
for them to travel. Let the laws be violated,
let the people be oppressed, let equity be sub
verted, let a kingdom be sacrificed to their ir
resistible passion for wealth, let it be across a
thousand depopulated countries, a thousand
ruined families, let it be over a thousand piles
of mangled carcasses that they arrive at for
tune, provided they can but acquire it, no mat
ter what it costs.

This is our first notion of avarice. But in
this point of light who of us has this passion!

Q,uid nou mortalia, &c. Virg. JEneid. L. 3.

Nobody, not one person, T except none. I
leave to the Searcher of hearts to determine
whether it be the vehemence of our piety, or
the impotence of our condition, that prevents
our carrying avarice to this length; whether it
be respect for the laws or dread of them, that
keeps us from violating them; whether we ab
stain from oppressing mankind because we love,
or because we fear them; whether sacrificing
our country to our love of wealth be prevented
by love to our country, or by a despair of suc
cess. Yes, I leave the decision of this ques
tion to the Searcher of hearts. I would, as far
as I can without betraying my ministry, form
the most favourable judgment of my hearers;
therefore I affirm not one of us is avaricious in
this first sense.

Avarice, however, must be considered in a
second point of light. It not only consists in
committing bold crimes, but in entertaining
mean ideas, and practising low methods, in
compatible with such magnanimity as our con
dition ought to inspire. It consists not only in
an entire renunciation of the "kingdom of
God and the righteousness thereof," but in not
" seeking it first" in the manner proposed. It
consists not only in always endeavouring to in
crease our wealth, but in harbouring continual
fears of losing it, and perplexing ourselves in
endless methods of preserving it. It consists
not only in wholly withholding from the poor,
but in giving through constraint, and in always
fearing to give too much. It consists not only
in omitting to serve God, but in trying to asso
ciate the service of God with that of mam
mon. Which of us is free from avarice consi
dered in this second point of light? Strictly
speaking, nobody, no, not one person.

2. But what right have we to pronounce
that no one is denied with avarice considered
in the first point of light? Let us consider
this passion in regard to the odious crimes
which it impels us to commit. Let us review
the articles just now mentioned. Are we guilty
of only trying to associate God and mammon?
And do we never lay aside the service of God
wholly, when it clashes with that of mammon?
Are we guilty of nothing more than giving
through constraint? do we not often avoid
giving at all? do we not always omit cha
rity, when we can do so without being branded
with infamy? Are we to blame only for fear
ing to lose our wealth, are we not also always
occupied about increasing it, so that this desire
follows us every where, through all the tumult
of the day and all the silence of the night,
into every company, into private prayer and
public devotion? Are we guilty of only not
"seeking first the kingdom of God," are we
not also ready to renounce it, when we cannot
enter it without losing some of our wealth?
Are we guilty of violating only the laws of
charity, do we not also violate those of equity?
By what unheard of secret then have some of
us so rapidly acquired large fortunes? What
sudden revolution then has so quickly changed
the appearance of some families? What re
markable Providence then has made such an
extreme difference between your ancestry and
your posterity? What motive then retains so
many of our protestant brethren in their native
country, and why are there in this assemblv so

. LXVI.]

BY JESUS CHRIST.

113

many dismembered families? Why are no
children with their parents, and parents wit.
their children in this free country, both conten
to have their " lives for a prey?" Ah! m
brethren, what a scandalous history is that o:
Judas! What a horrible crime did his avaric
impel him to commit! And also what a sa
resemblance is there between that wretch an
some Christians, who profess to abhor him!

3. As the avarice of Judas appears odiou
considered in itself, and more so considered in
regard to the crime he committed through it
so it will appear more offensive still, if yo
consider it in view of the circumstances ir
which he was when he gave himself up to it
for how far soever the wickedest of men be
from the practice of some virtues, there an
occasions on which they seem to turn their at
tention to them. The most barbarous souli
cannot help relenting, when they see the ob
jects of their hatred reduced to extreme misery
Hearts the most lukewarm towards religion,
feel, I know not what emotions of piety, wher
religion is exhibited in some eminent point of
light, and when the love of God to his crea
tures, and his compassion for sinners, are de
scribed in lively colours.

On this principle, what opinion must we
form of Judas? What a time did he choose to
betray his master to his enemies, and to give
himself up to Satan? Jesus Christ was eating
the passover with his disciples, and telling
them, "with desire I have desired to eat this
passover with you before I suffer." Jesus
Christ was taking leave of his disciples at a
love-feast, and going, as soon as the company
broke up, to substantiate the shadow exhibited
in the paschal supper, by offering himself in
their stead a sacrifice for sin. Judas partook
of this paschal lamb, and sat at the table with
Jesus Christ at this feast of Jove, yet in these
circumstances so proper to eradicate avarice,
' at least to suspend the growth of it, it became
more vigorous, and ripened in his unworthy
soul.

My brethren, when we judge our own hearts,
let us keep this principle in view. A passion
hateful in itself, and hateful on account of the
crimes it makes us commit, may become more
so by circumstances. What is an innocent
freedom in some circumstances may become
licentiousness in other circumstances, and as
circumstances alter, what is licentious may be
come a great crime; and thus an innocent free
dom, at most an act of licentiousness, at most
a crime, may become an atrocious outrage,
and unpardonable on account of circumstances
in which it was committed. This maxim is
self-evident, it is an axiom of morality.

O God, Judge of the whole earth, do not
pass sentence on this assembly according to the
rigour of this maxim! This is passion week,
and we are in circumstances, in which Jesus
Christ most powerfully attacks our vices. You
need not be a saint to have emotions of piety
in these circumstances, it is sufficient to be a
man; but you must be a monster, a disciple of
Judas, to have none. To hate in these circum
stances, to hate when Jesus Christ loves, and
while he is saying of his executioners, " Fa
ther, forgive them, for they know not what
they do." To shut our hearts against the cries
VOL. II.— 15

of our wretched fellow^reatures, while Jesus
Christ is pouring out his blood, his life, his
soul for poor mortals; to give ourselves up to
worldly pleasures, while nothing is treated of
among us but the sufferings of Jesus Christ,
while he is represented as sweating great drops
of blood, contending with divine justice, fas
tened to a cross, and uttering these lamentable
complaints, " my soul is exceeding sorrowful,
very heavy, sorrowful even unto death. O
my Father, if it be possible let this cup pass
from me! My God! rny God! why hast thou
forsaken me!" At such a time, and in such cir
cumstances, to pursue worldly pleasures ....
My brethren, finish this article yourselves, and
pronounce your own sentences.

4. Consider the pretexts with which Judas
covered his avarice. One of the principal
causes of our indignation at the irregularities
of our neighbours, and our indulgence for our
own is, that we see the first without the colour
ings, which they who commit them make use
of to conceal their turpitude from themselves,
whereas we always consider our own through
such mediums as decorate and disguise them.
Now as we palliate our own passions, we ought
to believe that other people palliate theirs.

Who can imagine that Judas considered his
rime in its own real horrid colours? Can any
body suppose that he said to himself, " I am
determined to violate the most solemn obliga
tions for thirty pieces of silver; I arn resolved
to betray the Saviour of the world, for thirty
>ieces of silver: I would rather see him cruci-
ied than be deprived of this unworthy price
f treason: this contemptible reward I prefer
jefore all the joys of heaven?" No, no, Judas
did not reason thus. Judge what he did on
his occasion by what he did on another. A
joman poured a box of costly ointment on the
"eel of Jesus Christ; Judas was hurt to see this
>rey escape his avarice, he therefore covered
he sordid disposition of his soul, with the
goodly pretence of charity, "this ointment
night have been sold for three hundred pence,
nd given to the poor," John xii. 4 — 6. Thus
n the present case, " perhaps Jesus Christ will
scape from his enemies, as he has often done
efore. Perhaps his looks will deter them,
^erhaps he will fell them to the earth with his
ower. Perhaps the angels of heaven will
urround, protect, and defend him. Perhaps I
nyself shall contribute to save the world by
ffering the sacrifice that is to procure salva-
.on. Perhaps too, 1 may have formed ideas
oo high of this Jesus. Perhaps God does not
nterest himself in his preservation, as I have
itherto supposed. Perhaps he has assumed a
daracter which does not belong to him, and is
othing but a phantom of Messiah. (Who
an tell what extravagant reasonings may be
:>rmed by a mind given up to a passion, and
etermined to justify it?) After all, should I
dd one more crime to what I have already
ommitted, the number will not be so very
reat. The blood I am going to assist in shed-
ing, will obtain my pardon for contributing to
led it. And I cannot persuade myself that a
aviour, who came into the world on purpose
o publish a general pardon to all sinners, will
loose to make an exception against me,

114

THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS

. LXVI.

Brethren, fs tfifs source of sophistry closed
in regard to you? If I may venture to speak
so, did the logic of your passions expire when
Judas died? Which of us is not, so to speak,
two different, yea opposite men according to
the agitation of our spirits, and the dominion
of our passions? Let any one of us be consult
ed concerning a crime which we have no in
terest in committing or palliating, and we shall
talk of nothing but equity, rectitude, and re
ligion; but let us be questioned concerning the
same crime when we have some interest in the
commission of it, and behold! another lan
guage, another morality, another religion, or
to say all in one word, behold another man.

To come to the point, under what pretext
does not avarice conceal itself? How many
forms does it take to disguise itself from the
man who is guilty of it, and who will be
drenched in the guilt of it till the day he dies!
Sometimes it is prudence, which requires him
to provide not only for his present wants, but
for such as he may have in future. Sometimes
it is charity, which requires him not to give
society examples of prodigality and parade.
Sometimes it is parental love, obliging him to
save something for his children. Sometimes it
is circumspection, which requires him not to
eupply people who make an ill use of what
they get. Sometimes it is necessity, which
obliges him to repel artifice by artifice. Some
times it is good conscience, which convinces
him, good man, that he has already exceeded
in compassion and alms-giving, and done too
much. Sometimes it is equity, for justice re
quires that every one should enjoy the fruit of
his own labours, and those of his ancestors.
Sometimes it is incompetence, perhaps indeed
a little part of my wealth may be subject to
eome scruples, for who can assure himself that
every farthing of his fortune has been acquired
with the most strict regard to evangelical rec
titude, but then I cannot tell to whom this res
titution should be made, and till that is made,
justice is not satisfied, there is no room for

generosity. Sometimes what am ^

about? who can make a complete list of all the
pretences with which a miser disguises himself
in his own eyes, and imagines he can disguise
himself in the eyes of others!

5. Finally, let us consider the confession
which the truth forced from Judas, in spite of
his reigning passion, and in the same article,
let us observe the remorse inspired by his pas
sion, and the reparation his remorse compelled
him to make. Presently I see the unhappy
Judas recover himself from his infatuation.
Presently Tie sees through the pretexts, which
for a while disguised his passion, and concealed
the horror of the crime he was going to com
mit. Presently I hear him say, " I have sinned
in that I have betrayed innocent blood," Matt,
xxvii. 4. See, he hates the abominable thirty
pieces of silver, the charm of which had allured
him to commit the blackest crime, and to
plunge himself into the deepest wo; see, he
casts down the pieces of silver at the feet of
those of whom he received them.

Christians, blush! Here the comparison of
Judas with some Christians is greatly to the
.disadvantage of the latter. I am aware, that
the confession of Judas was not sanctified by

faith, and that the restitution proceeded more
from despair than true repentance; however,
he did repent, he did say, " I have sinned,"
and he did restore the thirty pieces of silver,
which he had so basely acquired.

But where are the Christians who repent
of the extortions of which their avarice has
caused them to be guilty? Where are Christians
saying, " I have sinned?" Particularly, where
are those Christians, who have made restitu
tion? It is said there are some. I believe so,
because credible people affirm it. But I declare
solemnly, I have never seen one, and yet I
have seen many people, whose hands were de
filed with the accursed thing, whose magnifi
cence and pomp were the fruit of the cursed
thing. Extortioners of this kind have I never
seen, I have never seen one of them repenting,
and saying, " indeed I have sinned, and thus
and thus have I done." I have never seen
one, who has not invented as many pretexts to
keep his ill-gotten wealth as he had invented
to get it. In one word, I never saw one who
understood, or was willing to learn the elements
of Christian morality on the doctrine of resti
tution. How rare soever the conversion of
sinners of other kinds may be, thanks to divine
mercy, we have sometimes seen edifying ex
amples of such conversions. We have seen
voluptuous people groan at the recollection of
their former debaucheries, efface the dissipa
tions of their youth by the penitential grief,
and pious actions of their mature age, and affix
that body in a mortal illness to the cross of
Christ, which, during health and strength they
had devoted to luxury. We have seen assas
sins ready, if it were possible, to replace the
blood they had shed with their own. We have
seen vindictive people embrace inveterate ene
mies, and cover them with affectionate tears.
But among that great number of dying people,
who, we know with the utmost certainty, had
become rich by oblique means; among the
great number of soldiers and officers, who had
robbed, plundered, and sacked; among the
great number of merchants and tradesmen
who had been guilty of falsehood, deceit,
cheating, and perjury, and who by such means
had acquired a splendid fortune; among all this
great number, we have never seen one who
had the resolution to assemble his family round
his dying bed, and take his leave of them in
this manner: " My dear children, I have been
a scandal to you through life, I will now edify
you by my death. I am determined in these
last moments of my life to give glory to God
by acknowledging my past transgressions. The
greatest part of my fortune was acquired by
artful and wicked means. These elegant apart
ments are furnished with my oaths and perju
ries. This strong and well-finished house is
founded on my treachery. My sumptuous and
fashionable equipage is the produce of my ex
tortions. But I repent now of my sins. I
make restitution to church and state, to the
public and individuals. I choose rather to be
queath poverty to you, than to leave you a
patrimony under a curse. You will gain more
by the example I give you of repentance, than
you will by all my unjust acquisitions." An
age, a whole century, does it furnish one such
iple?

SER. LXVII.]

THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION, &c.

115

Such is the face of mankind! Such the con
dition of the church! And what dreadful dis
coveries should we now make, could we look
into futurity as easily as we can examine the
present and the past! When Jesus Christ, that
good master, uttered this painful prophecy to
his family sitting1 round him, " Verily I say unto
you, one of you shall betray me," all his disci
ples were exceeding sorrowful, and every one
said unto him, " Lord, is it I?" How many
subjects for grief would rise to view, should God
draw aside the veil that hides the destiny of all
this assembly, and show us the bottomless abyss
into which the love of money will plunge many
who are present.

Let us prevent this great evil. Let us purify
the spring from whence our actions and their
consequences flow. Let us examine this idol,
to which we sacrifice our all. Judge of the
value of the riches in pursuit of which we are
so eager, by the brevity of life. The best course
of moral instruction against the passions, is
death. The grave is a discoverer of the ab
surdity of sin of every kind. There the am
bitious may learn the folly of ambition. There
the vain may learn the vanity of all human
things. There the voluptuous may read a mor
tifying lesson on the absurdity of sensual plea
sure. But this school, fruitful in instructions
that concern all the passions, is profusely elo
quent against avarice. I recollect an anecdote
of Constantino the Great. In order to reclaim
a miser, he took a lance and marked out a space
of ground of the size of a human body, and told
him, " add heap to heap, accumulate riches
upon riches, extend the bounds of your pos
sessions, conquer the whole world, in a few
days, such a spot as this will be all you will
have." I take this spear, my brethren, I mark
out this space among you, in a few days you
will be worth no more than this. Go to the
tomb of the avaricious man, go down and see
his coffin and his shroud, in four days these will
be all you will have.

I conclude, and I only add one word of Jesus
Christ. Our divine Saviour describes a man
revolving in his mind great projects, thinking
of nothing but pulling down and rebuilding,
dying the same night, void, destitute, miserable,
and terrified at seeing all his fancied projects
of felicity vanish; on which our Lord makes this
reflection, " so is every one who layeth up trea
sure for himself and is not rich towards God,"
Luke xii. 21. My God! how poor is he, though
among piles of gold and silver, amidst all riches
and plenty, who is not rich towards God! On
the contrary, how enviable is the condition of
a man hungry, indigent, and wrapped in rags,
if he be rich towards God! Rich men! This is
the only way to sanctify your riches. Be rich
towards God. Ye poot people, this is all you
want to support you under poverty, and to en
able you to triumph even in your indigence.
May we be all rich towards God! Let us all
accumulate a treasure of good works, it is the
most substantial wealth, and that only which
will yield a bountiful harvest at last. " There
be many that say, Who will show us any good?
Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance
upon us. Thou hast put gladness in my heart,
more than in the time that their corn and their
wine increased," Ps. iv. 6, 7. Amen.

SERMON LXVII.

THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION
OF IMPENITENT SINNERS.

HOSEA xiii. 9.

0 Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is
thine help.

THESE words are so concise in the Hebrew
text that no distinct idea can be affixed to them,
unless we supply something. All expositors
allow this. The only question is, what word
ought to be supplied to express the prophet's
meaning.

Some supply, " thine idols, or thy calves,
have destroyed thee:" and by these they under
stand the images which Jeroboam placed at
Samaria to prevent the ten tribes, who had re
volted under his direction from the government
of Rehoboam, from returning to that prince, as
probably they might have been tempted to do,
had they gone to worship the true God at Je
rusalem.

Others supply, "thy king hath destroyed
thee, O Israel," meaning Jeroboam, who had
led the people of Israel into idolatry.

But not to trouble you with a list of the va
rious opinions of expositors, I shall content my
self with observing that which I think best
founded, that is, the sense given by the ancient
Latin version, Thy destruction is of thyself, O
Israel, or, Thou art the author of thine own
ruin. This translation which supplies less to
the original, is also perfectly agreeable to the
idiom of the Hebrew language. With this the
version of our churches agrees, "thou hast de
stroyed thyself, or thou art destroyed," which
is much the same, because others cannot destroy
us unless we contribute by our negligence to
our own destruction. This translation too is
connected with what precedes, and what fol
lows, and in general with the chief design of
our prophet.

This chief design is very observable in most
chapters of this prophecy. It is evident, the
prophet intended to convince the Israelites, that
God had discovered in all his dispensations, a
desire to fix them in his service, to lead them
to felicity by the path PI virtue, and that they
ought to blame none but- themselves if judg
ments from heaven should overwhelm them,
giving them up to the Assyrians in this life, and
to punishment after <fcath. This design seems
to me most fully Discovered in the latter part
of this chapter, s few verses after the text, " I
will ransom them from the power of the grave;
I will redeem them from death. O death, I
will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy de
struction." You know, rny brethren, St. Paul
informs us that this promise will not be accom
plished till after the general resurrection;
" Then shall be brought to pass the saying that
is written, Death is swallowed up in victory
O death where is thy sting? O grave, wheie
is thy victory?" But, adds our prophet, " Sa
maria shall become desolate, for she hath re
belled against her God." The text is therefore
connected with the foregoing and following
words according to this translation, " O Israel
thou hast destroyed thyself."

THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION

[SER. LXVIL

I class the text then among those passages
of Scripture in which God condescends to exo
nerate his conduct in regard to sinners by de
claring, that they ought to take the whole
blame of their own destruction on themselves:
and in this point of view 1 am going to consider
it. The difficulties of this subject chiefly pro
ceed from three causes, either from our notion
of the nature of God — or the nature of religion
—or the nature of man. We will examine
these difficulties, and endeavour to remove
them in the remaining part of this discourse.

I. " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself.
The first difficulties that seem to belong to this
truth, are taken from the nature of God, who,
having created nothing of which he had not an
idea before, and having realized no idea, all the
consequences of which he had not foreseen, is
the author not only of every being that exists,
but also of every thing that results from their
existence, and seerns for this very reason the
only cause of the miseries of his creatures.

It is much to be wished, my brethren, that
mankind were so apprised of the narrow limits
of their own understanding, as not to plunge
themselves into some deep subjects which they
are incapable of fathoming, and so as to attri
bute to their natural incapacity, their incom-
petency to answer some objections against the
perfections of God. Some pagans have been
more aware of this than many Christians; and
the Persians, followers of Mohammed, have
endeavoured to make their disciples compre
hend it by an ingenious fable.

" There were, say they, three brethren, who
all died at the same time; the two first were far
advanced in age; the elder had always lived in
a habit of obedience to God: the second, on the
contrary, in a course of disobedience and sin;
and the third was an infant, incapable of dis
tinguishing good from evil. These three bro
thers appeared before the tribunal of God; the
first was received into paradise, the second was
condemned to hell, the third was sent to a mid
dle place, where there was neither pleasure nor
pain, because he had not done either good ort
evil. When this youngest heard his sentence,
and the reasons on which the Supreme Judge
grounded it, sorry to be excluded from para
dise, he exclaimed, Ah, Lord! hadst thou pre
served my life as thoa didst that of rny good
brother, how much better would it have been
for me? I should have lived as he did, and then
I should have enjoyed as he does the happiness
of eternal glory! My chitf, replied God to him,
I knew thee, and I knew haCst thou lived longer
thou wouldst have lived liks thy wicked bro
ther, and like him wouldst ha\q rendered thy
self deserving of the punishmeni of hell. The
condemned brother hearing this discouise of
God, exclaimed, Ah Lord! why didat thou not
then confer the same favour upon me as upon
my younger brother, by depriving me of a life
which I have so wickedly misspent as to bring
myself under a sentence of condemnation? I
preserved thy life, said God, to give thee an
opportunity of saving thyself. The younger
brother, hearing this reply, exclaimed again,
Ah! why then, my God, didst thou not preserve
my life also, that I might have had an oppor
tunity of saving myself? God, to put an end

to complaining and disputing, replied, because
my decree had determined otherwise."*

Were I to follow my own inclination, I should
imitate this cautious reserve; but as silence on
this subject is sometimes an occasion of ima
ginary triumph to the enemies of religion, and
as it sometimes causes scruples in weak con
sciences, I think it absolutely necessary to say
something towards removing this objection;
and to prove, at least, that though we are in
capable of fully satisfying ourselves on this
subject, yet there is nothing in this incompe-
tency favourable to the insults of infidels, or
the doubts and fears of the scrupulous.

Now, my brethren, it seems to me, we cannot
possibly imagine any more than two ways to
satisfy ourselves on this subject: the one is to
obtain a complete idea of the decrees of God,
and to compare them so exactly with the dis
position of sinners as to make it evident by this
comparison, that sinners are not under a ne
cessity of committing such crimes as cause their
eternal destruction. The second is, to refer the
subject to the determination of a being of the
most unsuspected knowledge and veracity,
whose testimony we may persuade ourselves is
unexceptionable, and whose declaration is an
infallible oracle.

The first of these ways is impracticable. To
be able to demonstrate, by an exact comparison,
of the decrees of God with the nature of man,,
that sinners are not necessitated to commit such
crimes as cause their eternal destruction, is, in
my opinion, a work more than human. Many
have attempted it, but though we cannot refuse
the praise due to their piety, yet, it should
seem, we owe this testimony to truth, that they
have not removed all the objections to which
the subject is liable.

I say more, I venture to predict, without
pretending to be a prophet, that all future
efforts will be equally unsuccessful. The rea
son is, because it is an attempt to infer conse
quences from principles unknown. Who can
boast of knowing the whole arrangement, all
the extent, and all the combinations of the de
crees of God? The depth of these decrees, the
obscure manner in which the Scripture expres
ses them, and if I may be allowed to say so,
the darkness in which attempts to elucidate
them have involved them, place them infinitely
beyond our reach. As this method has been?
mpracticable to this day, probably it will con
tinue so to the end of the world.

Let us try the second. The question is,
whether, allowing the decrees of God, God does
any violence to sinners, compelling them to
commit sin? Has not this question been fully
answered by a Being, whose decisions are in
fallible oracles, and of whose testimony we
cannot possibly form any reasonable doubt?
Yes, my brethren, we know such a Being; we
know a Being infinitely capable of deciding
this question, and who has actually decided it.
This Being is God himself.

To explain our meaning, and to show the
connexion of the answer with the question, I
will suppose you to put up this petition to God^
— Does the eternal destination, which thou

Voyag. de M. Chardin, torn. vii. p. 33.

SER. LXVII.J

OF IMPENITENT SINNERS.

117

hast made of .my soul before I had a being
force my will? do what they call predestination
and reprobation in the schools destroy this pro
position, that if I perish, my destruction pro
ceeds alone from myself? My God, remove this
difficulty, and lay open to me this important
truth. I suppose, my brethren, you have pre
sented this question, and that God answers in
the following manner: The frailty of your
minds renders this matter incomprehensible to
you. It is impossible for men finite as you are
to comprehend the whole extent of my decrees,
and to see in a clear and distinct manner the
influence they have on the destiny of man: But
I who formed them perfectly understand them.
I am truth itself, as I am wisdom. I do de
clare to you then, that none of my decrees offer
violence to my creatures, and that your destruc
tion can proceed from none but yourselves.
As to the rest, you shall one day perfectly
understand what you now understand only in
part, and then you shall see with your own
eyes what you now see only with mine. Cease
then to anticipate a period, which my wisdom
defers, and laying aside this speculation attend
you to practice, "fully persuaded that you are
placed between reward and punishment, and
may have a part in which you please. Is it
not true, my brethren, that if God had answer
ed in this manner, it would be carrying, I do
not say rashness, but insolence to the highest
degree to object against the testimony, or to
desire more light into this subject at present?
Now, my brethren, we pretend that God has
given this answer, and in a manner infinitely
more clear than we have stated it.

He has given this answer in those pathetical
expostulations, in those powerful applications,
and in those exhortations, which he employs to
reclaim the greatest sinners. Now if the de
crees of God forced sinners, if they did violence
to their liberty, would the equity of God allow
him to call men out of bondage, while he him
self confined them in chains?

God has given this answer by tender com
plaints concerning the depravity of mankind;
yea, by tears of love shed for their miseries.
" O that my people had hearkened unto me!
O that thou hadst known, even thou, at least
in this thy day, the things which belong unto
thy peace!" Ps. Ixxxi. 14, Luke xix. 42. Now
if the decrees of God force sinners, if they
offer violence to their liberty, I am not afraid
to say, this sort of language would be a sport
unworthy of the divine majesty.
• He has given this answer by express assu
rances, that he would have all men to be saved;
that " he hath no pleasure in the death of the
wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way
and live;1' that he is not willing that any should
perish, but that all should come to repentance.
Now if the decrees of God force sinners, and
do violence to their liberty, contrary propositions
are true; it would be proper to say, God will
not have ail men to be saved, he will not have
the sinner come to repentance, he is determined
the sinner shall die.

He has published this answer by giving us
high ideas of his mercy; when he prolongs the
time of his patience and long-suffering, he calls
it " riches of goodness, forbearance, and long-
suffering." Now if the decrees of God force

sinners, if they offer violence to their liberty,
God would not be more merciful, if he grants
fourscore years to a wicked man to repent in,
than if he took him away suddenly on the com
mission of his first sin.

He has given this answer expressly in the
text, and in many other parallel passages, where
he clearly tells us, that after what he has done
to save us, there are no difficulties insurmount
able in our salvation, except such as we choose
to put there. For if the divine decrees force
men to sin, and offer violence to their liberty,
the proposition in the text would be utterly
false, and the prophet could not say on the
part of God, "O Israel, thou hast destroyed
thyself."

As the first way of removing our difficulties
is absolutely impossible, the second is fully
open. God has not thought proper to give us
a distinct idea of the connexion between his
decrees and the liberty of sinners: but he has
openly declared that they do not clash together.
Let us make no more vain efforts to explain
mysteries, a clear demonstration of which God
has reserved for another life: but let us attend
to that law, which he has required us to obey
in the present state.

But men will run counter to the declarations
of God in Scripture. " Things that are re
vealed, which belong unto us and our children,
for ever," we leave, and we lay our rash hands
on "secret things, which belong unto the Lord
our God." We lay aside charity, moderation,
mutual patience, duties clearly revealed, power
fully pressed home, and repeated with the ut
most fervour, and we set ourselves the task of
removing insuperable difficulties, to read and
turn over the book of God's decrees. We
regulate and arrange the decrees of God, we
elevate our pretended discoveries into articles
essential to salvation and religion, and at length
we generate doubts and fears, which distress us
on a death-bed, and oblige us to undergo the
ntolerable punishment of trying to reconcile
doctrines, the clearing of which is beyond the
capacity of all mankind.

No, no: it was not thy decree, O my God,
hat dug hell, and kindled the " devouring fire,"
he "smoke of which ascendeth up for ever
and ever!" In vain the sinner searches in a de
cree of reprobation for what comes only from
us own depravity. Thou dost not say to thy
creatures, yield, yield miserable wretches to
my sovereign will, which first impels you to
sin, in order to compel you to suffer that pun-
shment, which I have decreed for you from all
ternity. Thou reachest out thy charitable
rrns, thou applies! to us motives the most
iroper to affect intelligent minds. Thou open-
>st the gates of heaven to us, and if we be lost
imidst so many means of being saved, " to thee
>elongeth righteousness, and to us shame and
confusion of face. " O Israel, thou hast de
stroyed thyself."

II. You will see the evidence of this propo
sition much better, my brethren, if you attend
to the discussion of the second class of difficul
ties, to which the subject is liable. They are
taken from the nature of religion. There are
men so stupid, or rather so wicked, as to con
sider religion, that rich present which God in
his great love made mankind, as a fatal present

118

THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION

[SER. LXVIL

given in anger. The duties required seem to
them vast valleys to fill up, and huge moun
tains to level, and attributing insuperable dif
ficulties to religion, which are creatures only
of their own cowardice and malice, they can
not comprehend how men can be punished for
not performing such impossible conditions. Let
us examine this religion; nothing more is ne
cessary to remove this odious objection.

1. Observe the first character of evangelical
morality, how clearly it is revealed. Let heresy
attack the truths of our mysteries. If demon
strative arguments cannot be produced, pro
bable ones may; if the doctrines cannot be ex
punged from the letter of Scripture, at least
they may be disguised; if they cannot be ren
dered contemptible, they may for a while be
made difficult to understand: but propositions
that concern moral virtues are placed in a light
so clear, that, far from extinguishing it, nothing
can diminish its brightness. Religion clearty
requires a magistrate to be equitable and a
subject obedient; a father tender, and a son
dutiful; a husband affectionate, and a wife
faithful; a master gentle, and a servant diligent;
a pastor vigilant, and a flock teachable. Re
ligion clearly requires us to exercise moderation
in prosperity, and patience in adversity. Re
ligion clearly requires us to be wholly attentive
to the divine majesty, when we are at the foot
of his throne, and never to lose sight of him
after our devotions are finished. Religion
clearly requires us to perform all the duties of
our calling through the whole course of life,
and wholly to renounce the world when we
come to die. Except some extraordinary cases,
(and would to God, my brethren, we had ar
rived at such a degree of perfection as rendered
it necessary for us to examine what conduct
we ought to observe in some circumstances,
which the law seems not to have fully explain
ed!) I say, except such cases, all others are
regulated in a manner so clear, distinct, and
intelligible,' that we not only cannot invent
any difficulties, but that, except a few idiots,
nobody has ever pretended to invent any. ,,

2. The next character of Christian morality
is dignity of principle. Why did God give us
laws? Because he loves us, and because he
would have us to love him. Why does he
require us to bear the cross? Because he loves
us, because he would have us love him, and
because infatuation with creatures is incom
patible with this twofold love. Wh^ does he
require us to deny ourselves? Because 'he loves
us, and because he would have us love him,
because it is impossible for him to love us and
yet to permit our ill-directed self-love to hurry
us blindly into a gulf of misery, because it is
impossible if we love him to love ourselves in
a manner so inglorious to him. How pleasant
is it to submit to bonds, which the love of God
imposes on us! How delightful is it.to yield to
obligations, when the love of God supports us
under the weight of them!

3. The third character of Christian morality
is the justice of its dominions. All its claims
are founded on reason and equity. Examine
the laws of religion one by one, and you will
find they all bear this character. Does religion
prescribe humility? It does; but what is this
humility? Is it a virtue that shocks reason, and

degrades the dignity of human nature? By no
means, the gospel proposes to elevate us to the
highest dignity that we are capable of attaining.
But what then does it mean by requiring us to
be humble? It means, that we should not esti
mate ourselves by such titles and riches, such
dignities and exterior things, as we have in
common with men like Caligula, Nero, Helio-
gabalus, and other monsters of nature, scourges
of society. Does religion require mortification?
It does, it even describes it by the most painful
emblems. It requires us to cut off a right
hand, to pluck out a right eye, to tear asunder
all the ties of flesh and blood, nature and self-
love. But what does it mean by prescribing
such mortification as this? Must we literally
hate ourselves, and must we take as much pains
hereafter to make ourselves miserable as we
have taken hitherto to make ourselves happy?
No. my brethren, on the contrary, no doctrine
has ever carried self-love, properly explained,
so far. The Christian doctrine of mortifica
tion means, that by a few momentary acts
of self-denial we should free ourselves from
eternal misery, and that by contemning " tem
poral things which are seen" we should obtain
" things which are not seen, but which are
eternal."

4. But, say you, this perfection required by
the gospel, is it within our reach? Is it not
this religion which exhorts us to be " perfect as
God is perfect?" Is not this the religion that
exhorts us to be " holy as God is holv?" Does
not this religion require us to be "" renewed
after the image of him that created us?" In
deed it does, my brethren: yet this law, severe
as it may seem, has a fourth character exactly
according to our just wishes, that is, it has a
character of proportion. As we see in the doc
trines of religion, that although they open a
vast field to the most sublime geniuses, yet
they accommodate themselves to the most con
tracted minds, so in regard to the moral parts
of religion, though the most eminent saints are
required to make more progress, yet the first
efforts of novices are acceptable services, pro
vided they are sincerely disposed to persevere.
Jesus Christ, our great lawgiver, "knoweth
our frame, and rernembereth that we are dust;
he will not break a bruised reed, and smoking
flax he will not quench:" and the rule by which
he will judge us, will not be so much taken
from the infinite rights acquired over us by
creation and redemption as from our frailty,
and the efforts we shall have made to sur
mount it.

5. Power of motive is another character of
evangelical morality. In this life we are ani
mated, I will not say only by gratitude, equity,
and reason, motives too noble to actuate most
men: but by motives interesting to our pas
sions, and proper to inflame them, if they be
well and thoroughly understood.

You have ambition. But how do you mean
to gratify it? By a palace, a dress, a few ser
vants, a few horses in your carriages? False
idea of grandeur, fanciful elevation! I see in a
course of Christian virtue an ambition well
directed. To approach God, to be like God,
to be made a " partaker of the divine nature;'*
this is true grandeur, this is substantial glory.

You are avaricious, hence perpetual care.

SER. LXVIL]

OF IMPENITENT SINNERS.

119

hence anxious fears, hence never ending move
ments. But how can your avarice bear lo
think of all the vicissitudes that may affect

four fortune? In a course of Christian virtue
see an avarice well directed. The gospel
promises a fortune beyond vicissitude, and di
rects us to a faithful correspondent, who will
rel urn us for one grain thirty, for another sixty,
for another a hundred fold.

You are voluptuous, and you refine sensual
enjoyments, tickle your appetite, and sleep in
a bed of down!. I see in a course of virtue a
"joy unspeakable and full of glory, a peace
that passeth all understanding," pleasures
boundless in prospect, and delicious in enjoy
ment, pleasures greater than the liveliest ima
gination can conceive, and more beautiful than
the most eloquent lips can describe.

Such is religion, my brethren. What a fund
of stupidity, negligence, and corruption, must
a man have to resist it? Is this the religion
we must oppose in order to be damned? " O
Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself."

III. Well, well, we grant, say you, we are
stupid not to avail ourselves of such advanta
ges as religion sets before us, we are negligent,
we are depraved: but all this depravity, neg
ligence, and stupidity, are natural to us; we
bring these dispositions into the world with us,
we did not make ourselves; in a word, we are
naturally inclined to evil, and incapable of do
ing good. This religion teaches, of this we
are convinced by our own feelings, and the ex
perience of all mankind confirms it.

This is the third difficulty concerning the
proposition in the text, and it is taken from
the condition of human nature. In answer to
this, I say, that the objection implies four vague
notions of human depravity, each erroneous,
and all removable by a clear explication of
the subject.

1. When we speak of our natural impotence
to practise virtue, we confound it with an in
surmountable necessity to commit the greatest
crimes. We may be in the first case without
being in the second. We may be sick, and in
capable of procuring medicines to restore
health, without being invincibly impelled to
aggravate our condition by taking poison for
food, and a dagger for physic. A man may be
in a pit without ability to get out, and yet not
be invincibly compelled, to throw himself into
a chasm beneath him, deeper and darker, and
more terrible still. In like manner, we may
be so enslaved by depravity as not to be able
to part with any thing to relieve the poor, and
yet not so as to be absolutely compelled to rob
them of the alms bestowed on them by others,
and so of the rest.

It seems to me, my brethren, that this dis
tinction has not been attended to in discourses
of human depravity. Let people allege this
impotence to exculpate themselves for not
practising virtue, with all my heart: but to
allege it in excuse of odious crimes practised
every day freely, willingly, and of set purpose,
is to form such an idea of natural depravity
as no divine has ever given, and such as can
never be given with the least appearance of
truth. No sermon, no body of divinity, no
council, no synod ever said that human de
pravity was so great as absolutely to force a

man to become an assassin, a murderer, a
slanderer, a plunderer of the fortune, and a
destroyer of the life of his neighbour, or, what
is worse than either, a murderer of his reputa
tion and honour. Had such a proposition been
advanced, it would not be the more probable
for that, and nothing ought to induce us to
spare it. Monsters of nature! who, after you
have taken pains to eradicate from your hearts
such fibres of nature as sin seems to have left,
would you attempt to exculpate yourselves?
you who, after you have rendered yourselves
in every instance unlike God, would carry
your madness so far as to render God like
yourselves by accusing him of creating you
with dispositions, which oblige you to dip your
hands in innocent blood, to build your houses
with the spoils of widows and orphans, and to
commit crimes subversive of society? Cease
to affirm, these are natural dispositions. No,
they are acquired dispositions. That part of
religion which prohibits your excesses, is practi
cable by you without the supernatural aid neces
sary to a thorough conversion.

2. When we speak of natural depravity, we
confound the pure virtue that religion inspires
with other virtues, which constitution, educa
tion, and motives of worldly honour, are suffi
cient to enable us to practise. I grant, you
cannot practise such virtues as have the love
of God for their principle, order for their mo
tives, and perfection for their end: but you
may at least acknowledge your natural depra
vity, and exclaim, " O wretched man that I ana,
who shall deliver me from the body of this
death?" You may at least exclaim with the
magician mentioned by a poet, I see and ap
prove of the best things, though I practise the
worst. You may do more, you may practise
some superficial virtues, which the very hea
thens, not in covenant with God. exemplified.
You may be cautious like Ulysses, temperate
like Scipio, chaste like Polemon, wise like So
crates. If then you neglect this sort of virtue,
and if your negligence ruin you, " your destruc
tion is of yourselves."

3. When we speak of natural depravity, we
confound that of a man born a pagan with only
the light of reason with that of a Christian,
born and educated among Christians, and
amidst all the advantages of revelation. This
vague way of talking is a consequence of the
miserable custom of taking detached passages
of Scripture, considering them only in them
selves without any regard to connexion of time,
place, or circumstance, and applying them in
discriminately to their own imaginations and
systems. The inspired writers give us dread
ful descriptions of the state of believers before
their being called to Christianity: they call
this state " a night, a death, a nothing," in re
gard to the practice of virtue, and certainly
the state of a man now living without religion
under the gospel economy may be properly
described in the same manner: but I affirm,
that these expressions must be taken in a very
different sense. " This night, this death, this
nothing," if I may be allowed to speak so, have
different degrees. The degrees in regard to a
native pagan are greater than those in regard
to a native Christian. What then, my bre
thren, do you reckon for nothing all the cam

120

THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION

[SER. LXVII.

taken of you in your infancy, all the instruc
tions given you in your childhood by your
pious fathers and mothers, all the lessons they
procured others to give you, all the tutors who
have given you information! What! agreea
ble books put into your hands, exhortations,
directions, and sermons, addressed to you, you
reckon all these things for nothing! What!
•you make no account of the visits of your
pastors, when you thought yourselves dying,
of the proper discourses they directed to you
concerning your past negligence, of your own
resolutions and vows! I ask, do you reckon
all this for nothing? All these efforts have
been attended with no good effect: but you are
as ambitious, as worldly, as envious, as covet
ous, as eager in pursuit of lasciviousness, as
ever the heathens were, and you never blush,
nor ever feel remorse, and all under pretence
that the gospel teaches us we are frail, and can
do nothing without the assistance of God!

4. In fine, my brethren, when we speak of
the depravity of nature, we confine the con
dition of a man, to whom God has given only
exterior revelation, with the condition of him
to whom God offers supernatural aid to assist
him against his natural frailty, which prevents
his living up to external revelation. Does he
Jiot offer you this assistance? Does not the
holy Scripture teach you in a hundred places
that it is your own fault if you be deprived
of it?

Recollect only the famous words of St.
James, which were lately explained to you in
this pulpit with the greatest clearness, and
pressed home with the utmost pathos.* "If
any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,
that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraid-
eth not, and it shall be given him." God gives
to all men liberally, to all without exception,
and they who are deprived of this wisdom
ought to blame none but themselves, not God,
who gives to all men liberally, and upbraids not.

True, to obtain it, we must ask with a de
sign to profit by it; we must ask it " nothing
wavering," that is, not divided between the
hope and the fear of obtaining it: we must not
be like those " double-minded men, who are
unstable in all their ways," who seem by ask
ing wisdom to esteem virtue, but who discover
by the abuse they make of that wisdom they
have, that virtue is supremely hateful to them.
We must not resemble the " waves of the sea"
which seem to offer the spectator on a shore a
treasure, but which presently drown him in
gulfs from which he cannot possibly free him
self. Did God set this wisdom before us at a
price too high? Ought we to find fault with
him for refusing to bestow it, while we refuse
to apply it to that moral use which justice re
quires? Can we desire God to bestow his grace
on such as ask for it only to insult him?

O! that we were properly affected with the
greatness of our depravity, and the shame of
our slavery! But our condition, all scanda
lous and horrible as it is, seems to us all full of
charms.

When we are told that sin has subverted
nature, infected the air, confounded in a man-

* This remark indicates a generous temper in Sauriu
to speak handsomely of his colleagues.

ner cold with heat, heat with cold, wet with
dry, dry with wet, and disconcerted the beau
tiful order of creation, which constituted the
happiness of creatures; when we cast our eyes
on the maladies caused by sin, the vicissitudes
occasioned by it, the dominion of death over
alL creatures, which it has established; when
we see ourselves stretched on a sick bed, cold,
pale, dying, amidst sorrows and tears, fears
and pains, waiting to be torn from a world
we idolize; then we detest sin, and groan under
the weight of its chains. Should that Spirit,
who knocks to-day at the door of our hearts, say
to us, open, sinner, I will restore nature to its
beauty, the air shall be serene, and all the ele
ments in harmony, I will confirm your health,
reanimate your enfeebled frame, lengthen your
life, and banish for ever from your houses death,
that death which stains all your rooms with
blood: Ah! every heart would burn with ardour
to possess this assistance, and every one of my
hearers would make these walls echo with,
Come, Holy Spirit, come and dry up our tears
by putting an end to our maladies.

But when we are told, that sin has degraded
us from our natural dignity; that it has loaded
us with chains of depravity; that man, a crea
ture formed on the model of the divine perfec
tions, and required to receive no other laws
than those of order, is become the sport of un
worthy passions, which move him as they
please, which say to him, go and he goeth,
come and he corneth, which debase and vilify
him at pleasure, we are not affected with
these mortifying truths, but we glory in our
shame!

Slaves of sin! Captives under a heavier
yoke than that of Pharaoh, in a furnace more
cruel than that of Egypt! Behold your Deli
verer! He comes to-day to break your bonds
and set you free. The assistance of grace is
set before you. What am I saying? An
abundant measure is already communicated to
you. Already you know your misery. Al
ready you are seeking relief from it. Avail
yourselves of this. Ask for this succour, and
if it be refused you, ask again, and never
cease asking till you have obtained it.

Recollect, that the truths we have been
preaching are the most mortifying of religion,
and the most proper to humble us. It was
voluntarily, that we so often rebelled against
God. Freely, alas! freely, and without com
pulsion we have, some of us, denied the truths
of religion, and others given mortal wounds to
the majesty of its laws. Ah! Are there any
tears too bitter, is there any remorse too cut
ting, any cavern in the earth too deep, to expi
ate the guilt of such a frightful character!

Remember, the truths we have been leadi
ng are full of consolation. This part of my
text, " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself,"
is connected with the other part, " but in me
is thine help." God yet entreats us not to de
stroy ourselves. God has not yet given us up.
He does not know, pardon this expression, he
is a stranger to that point of honour, which
often engages us to turn away for ever from
those who have treated us with contempt. He,
he himself, the great, the mighty God does not
think it beneath him, not unworthy of his
glorious majesty, yet to entreat us to return.

SER. LXVIIL]

THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS, &c.

121

o him and be happy. O "mercy," that
'reacheth to the heavens!" O "faithfulness,
caching1 unto the clouds!" What consolations
low from you to a soul afraid of having ex
hausted you!

Above" all, think, think, my brethren, that
the truth we have been preaching will be
come one of the most cruel torments of the
damned. Devouring flame, kindled by divine
vengeance in hell, I have no need of your
light; smoke ascending up for ever and ever,
I have no need to be struck with your black
ness; chains of darkness that weigh down the
damned, I have no need to know your weight,
to enable me to form lamentable ideas of the
punishments of* the reprobate, the truth in my
text is sufficient to make me conceive your
horror. Being lost, it will be remembered
that there was a time when destruction might
have been prevented. One of you will recol
lect the education God gave you, another the
sermon he addressed to you, a third the sick
ness he sent to reform you: conscience will be
obliged to do homage to an avenging God, it
will be forced to allow, that the aid of the
Spirit of God was mighty, the motives of the
gospel powerful, and the duties of it practica
ble. It will be compelled to acquiesce in this
terrible truth, "thou hast destroyed thyself."
A condemned soul will incessantly be its own
tormentor, and will continually say, I am the
author of my own punishment, I might have
been saved, I opened and entered this horrible
gulf of myself.

Inculcate all these great truths, Christians,
let them affect you, let them persuade you,
let them compel you. God grant you the
grace! To him be honour and glory for ever.
Amen.

SERMON LXVIIL

THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS FOR
THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED.

PSALM cxix. 36.

Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, because
they keep not thy law.

FEW people are such novices in religion as
not to know, that sinners ought not to be
troubled for their own sins; but it is but here
and there a man, who enters so much into the
spirit of religion as to understand how far
the sins of others ought to trouble us. David
was a model of both these kinds of penitential
grief.

Repentance for his own sins is immortalized
in his penitential psalms: and would to God,
instead of that fatal security, and that unmean
ing levity, which most of us discover, even af
ter we have grossly offended God, would to
God, we had the sentiments of this penitent!
His sin was always before him, and imbittered
all the pleasures of life. You know the lan
guage of his grief. " Have mercy on me, O
Lord, for I am weak, my bones are vexed.
Mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as
a heavy burden they are too heavy for me.
Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O
VOL. II.— 16

Lord. I acknowledge my transgression, and
my sin is ever before me. Deliver me from
blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my sal
vation. Restore unto me the joy of thy salva
tion, that the bones which thou hast broken
may rejoice."

But as David gives us such proper models
of penitential expressions of grief for our own
sins, so he furnishes us with others as just for
lamenting the sins of others. You have heard
the text, " rivers of waters run down mine
eyes, because they keep not thy law." Read
the psalm from which the text is taken, and
you will find that our prophet shed three sorts
of tears for the sins of others. The first were
tears of zeal: the second flowed from love:
the third from self-interest. This is a kind of
penitence, which I propose to-day to your emu
lation.

In the first place, I will describe the insults
which a sinner offers to God, and will endea
vour to show you, that it is impossible for a
good man to see his God affronted in this man
ner without being extremely grieved, and
shedding tears of zeal.

In the second place, I will enumerate the
miseries, into which a sinner plunges himself
by his obstinate perseverance in sin, and 1 will
endeavour to convince you, that it is impossi
ble for a good man to see this without shed
ding tears of pity and love.

In the third place, I shall show you, if I per
ceive your attention continue, the disorders
which sinners cause in society, in our cities
and families, and you will perceive, that it is
mpossible for a good man to see the prosperity
of society every day endangered and damaged
ay its enemies without shedding tears of self-
interest.

Almighty God, whose " tender mercies are
over all thy works," but whose adorable Pro
vidence condemns us to wander in a valley of
tears; O condescend, " to put our tears into
thy bottle," and to gather us in due time to
that happy society in which conformity to thy
laws is the highest happiness and glory!
Amen.

I. David shed over sinners of his time, tears
of zeal. Thus he expresses himself in the
psalm from which we have taken the text,
" My zeal hath consumed me, because mine
enemies have forgotten thy words." But
what is zeal? How many people, to exculpate
themselves for not feeling this sacred flame,
ridicule it as a phantom, the mark of an enthu
siast? However, there is no disposition more
real and sensible. The word zeal is vague and
metaphorical, it signifies fire, heat, warmth,
and applied to intelligent beings, it means the
activity and vehemence of their desires, hence,
in common style, it is attributed to all the pas
sions indifferently, good and bad: but it is
most commonly applied to religion, and there
has two meanings, the one vague, the other
precise.

In a vague sense, zeal is put less for a parti
cular virtue, than for a general vigour and
vivacity pervading all the powers of the soul
of a zealous man. Zeal is opposed to luke-
warmness, and lukewarmness is not a particu
lar vice, but a dulness, an indolence that ac
companies and enfeebles all the exercises of

122

THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS

[SER. LXVIII.

the religion of a lukewarm man. On the con
trary, zeal is a fire animating all the emotions
of the piety of the man who has it, and giving
them all the worth and weight of vehemence.

But as the most noble exercises of religion
are such as have God for their object, and
as the virtue of virtues, or, as Jesus Christ ex
presses it, " the first and great commandment1'
is that of divine love, zeal is particularly taken
(and this is the precise meaning of the word,)
for loving God, not for a love limited and mo
derate, such as that which we ought to have
for creatures, even creatures the most worthy
of esteem, but a love boundless and beyond
moderation, so to speak, like that of glorified
spirits to the Supreme Intelligence, whose per
fections have no limits, whose beauties are
infinite.

The idea thus fixed, it is easy to compre
hend, that a soul animated with zeal, cannot
see without the deepest sorrow, the insults of
fered by sinners to his God. What object is
it that kindles flames of zeal in an ingenuous
soul? It is the union of three attributes: an at
tribute of magnificence, an attribute of holi
ness, and an attribute of communication. This
union can be found only in God, and for this
reason God only is worthy of supreme love.
Every being in whom any one of these three
attributes is wanting, yea, any being in whom
any degree is wanting, is not, cannot be an ob
ject of supreme love.

In vain would God possess attributes of cha
ritable communication, if he did not possess
attributes of magnificence. His attributes of
communication would indeed inspire me with
sentiments of gratitude: but what benefit should
I derive from his inclination to make me happy,
if he had not power sufficient to do so, and if
he were not himself the happy God, that is,
the origin, the source of all felicity, or, as an
inspired writer speaks, " the parent of every
good and every perfect gift?" Jarnes i. 17. In
this case he would reach a feeble hand to help
me, he would shed unavailing tears over my
miseries, and I could not say to him, my su
preme " good is to draw near to thee; whom
have I in heaven but thee? and there is none
upon earth that I desire beside thee," Ps. Ixxiii.
28. 25.

In vain would God possess attributes of ho
liness, if he did not possess attributes of com
munication. In this case he would indeed be
an object of my admiration, but he could not
be the ground of my hope. I should be struck
with the contemplation of a virtue always pure,
always firm, and always alike: but in regard to
me, it would be only an abstract and metaphy
sical virtue, which could have no influence
over my happiness. Follow this reasoning in
regard to the other attributes, and you will
perceive that nothing but a union of these
three can render an object supremely lovely;
and as this union can be found only in God, it
is God only who can be the object of zeal, or,
what is the same thing, expressed in other
words, God alone is worthy of supreme love.

As we make a progress in our meditation,
and in proportion as we acquire a just notion
of true zeal, we shall enter into the spirit and
meaning of the words of our psalmist. Do
jou. love God as he did? Does your heart burn

like his, with flames of divine zeal? Then you
can finish the first part of my discourse, for
you know by experience this disposition of
mind, " my zeal hath consumed me, because
mine enemies have forgotten thy words. Ri
vers of waters run down mine eyes because
they keep not thy law."

Sinners, I do not mean such as sin through
infirmity and surprise, the text does not speak
of them, I mean such as sin openly, freely, and
deliberately, these sinners attack the perfec
tions of God, either his attributes of magni
ficence, or those of holiness, or those of com
munication, and sometimes all three together.
They endeavour to disconcert the beautiful
harmony of the divine perfections, and so to
rob us of all we adore, the only worthy object
of our esteem.

They attack the magnificence of God. Such
are those madmen who employ all the depths
of their erudition, all the acuteness of their
genius, and all the fire of their fancy to ob
scure the eternity of the first cause, the infi
nity of his power, the infallibility of his wis
dom, and every other perfection that makes a
part of that complexure, or combination of
excellences, which we call magnificence. —
Such, again, are those abominable characters,
who supply the want of genius with the de
pravity of their hearts, and the blasphemies of
their mouths, and who, not being able to attack
him with specious reasons and plausible so
phisms, endeavour to stir up his subjects to
rebel, defying his power, and trying whether it
be possible to deprive him of the empire of the
world.

Some sinners attack the attributes of holi
ness in the perfect God. Such are those de
testable men, who presume to tax him with
falsehood and deceit, who deny the truth of
his promises, who accuse his laws of injus
tice, and his conduct of prevarication, who
would persuade us, that the reins of the uni
verse would be held much more wisely by their
impure hands than by those of the judge of all
the earth.

Some sinners attack the attributes of com
munication. Such, in the first instance, are
those ungrateful persons, who, while they
breathe only his air, and live only on his ali
ments, while only his earth bears, and only
his sun illuminates them, while they neither
live, nor move, nor have a being, but what
they derive from him, while he opens to them,
the path to supreme happiness, I mean the
road to faith and obedience, pretend that he is
wanting in goodness, charge him with all the
miseries into which they have the madness to
plunge themselves, dare to accuse him with
taking pleasure in tormenting his creatures,
and in the sufferings of the unfortunate; who
wish the goodness of the Supreme Being were
regulated by their caprice, or rather by their
madness, and will never consent to worship
him as good, except he allows them with im
punity to gratify their most absurd and guilty

Observe too, people may be profane by ac
tion as well as by system and reasoning. If
sinners attack the attributes of God directly,
it is equally true, they make an indirect attack
upon the same perfections.

SER. LXVIIL]

THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED

123

Here I wish, my brethren, each of us had
accustomed himself to derive his morality from
evangelical sources, to hear the language of
inspired writers, and to judge of his own ac
tions, not by such flattering portraits as his own
prejudices produce, but by the essential pro
perties of morality as it is described in the
word of God.

For example, what is a man who coolly puts
himself under the protection of another man
without taking any thought about the guar
dianship of God? He is a profane wretch, who
declares war against God, and attacks his at
tributes of magnificence by attributing more
power to the patron, under whose wing he
creeps and thinks himself secure, than to that
God who takes the title of King of kings. —
What I say of confidence in a king, I affirm
of confidence in all other creatures, whoever
or whatever they be. On this principle the
psalmist grounded this exhortation, put not
your trust in princes, nor in the son of man,
in whom there is no help. His breath goeth
forth, he returneth to his earth, in that very
day his thoughts perish." On this principle is j
this other declaration of a prophet founded, j
"cursed be the man that trusteth in man, j
and maketh flesh his arm." And it is on <
this principle that sacred history imputes so 1
great a crime to Asa, because when he fell '
sick, and saw himself reduced to extremity, I
" he sought to the physicians, and not to the ;
Lord."

What is a man who gives up his heart to I
idolize any particular object? What is a man |
who follows certain sympathies, a certain se- |
cret influence, certain charms omnipotent to
him, because he chooses to yield to their om
nipotence? He is a profane wretch, who
declares war against God, and who attacks
his attributes of communication; he is a man,
who attests by his conduct that there is more
pleasure in his union to his idol than there
can be in communion with God; he is a
man, who maintains by his actions that this
creature to whom he gives himself up without
reserve, merits more love, and knows how to
return love with more delicacy and constancy
than that God, who is the only model of per
fect love; he is a man who resists this invita
tion of eternal wisdom, " my son, give me
thine heart," and who disputes a truth, that
ought to bo considered as a first principle in a
system of love, " in thy presence is fulness of
joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for
evermore," Ps. xvi. 11.

Let us abridge this part of our discourse,
and let us return to the chief end proposed.
A sinner, who sins openly, freely, of set pur
pose, attacks the attributes of God, either his
attributes of greatness, or his attributes of com
munication, or his attributes of holiness, some
times all the three together. A good man,
who sincerely loves God, can he look with in
difference on such insults offered to the object
of his love? And in which of the saints whom
the inspired writers have proposed as exam
ples to you, have you discovered this guilty in
difference?

Behold Moses! He comes down from the
holy mountain, he hears the acclamations of
those madmen who were celebrating a foolish

feast in honour of their idol, and he replies to
Joshua, who thought it was a war shout, " Ah!
no, it is not the voice of them that shout for
mastery, neither is it the voice of them that
cry for being overcome, but the noise of them
that sing do I hear," Exod. xxxii. 18. Con
vinced by his own eyes, he trembles at the
sight, breaks the tables of the law, on which
God had engraven with his own adorable hand
the clauses of the covenant which this people
were now violating, he runs to the " gate of
the camp," and cries, " who is on the Lord's
side? Let him come unto me!" And when
" all the sons of Levi gathered themselves unto
him, he said unto them, put every man his
sword by his side, and go in and out from gate
to gate, throughout the camp, and slay every
man his brother, and every man his compan
ion, and every man his neighbour," ver. '26, 27.
See Phinehas. He perceives Moses and Aaron
" weeping at the door of the tabernacle," be
cause the people had forsaken the worship of
God, and gone over to that of Baal-peor;
touched with their grief he " rises up," quits
the congregation, " takes a javelin in his hand"
and stabs an Israelite (with the immodest Mi-
dianite,) who had enticed the people, into this
abominable idolatry. Behold Elijah. " I am
very jealous," says he, " for the Lord God of
hosts, for the children of Israel have forsaken
his covenant, thrown down his altars, and slain
his prophets with the sword," 1 Kings xix. 10.
Remark St. Paul. " His spirit was stirred in
him, to see a nation, in other respects the most
learned and polite, rendering to " an unknown
God" such homage as was due to none but the
Most High, whose " glory the Heavens declare,
and whose handy work the firmament showeth."
Behold the royal prophet, " Do not I hate them,
O Lord, that hate tliee? And am I not grievod
with those that rise up against thee? I hate
them with perfect hatred, I count them mine
enemies," Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22. " My zeal hath
consumed me, because mine enemies have for
gotten thy words. Rivers of waters run down
mine eyes, because they keep not thy law."
" Rivers of tears," tears of which my zeal for
thy glory is the first cause.

II. Although the sinner be hateful as a sin
ner, yet as an unhappy person he is an object
of pity, and it is possible he may preclude fu
ture ills by repentance. As to love God with
all the heart is the first and great command
ment, so " the second is like unto it, thou shalt
love thy neighbour as thyself." Sin is a source
of misery to a sinner, and it is impossible for a
good man to see, without shedding tears of
love and pity, the depths of wo into which peo
ple united to him by bonds of affection plunge
themselves by their obstinacy in sin.

Every tiling favours this subject. In regard
to the present life, a man living according to
laws of virtue is incomparably more happy
than he who gives himself up to vice. So the
Holy Spirit has declared, " godliness hath pio-
mise of the life that now is," 1 Tim. iv. 8.
Though this general rule has some exceptions,
yet they cannot regard the serenity of mind,
the peace of conscience, the calm of the pas
sions, the confidence of good men, their stea
diness in the calamities of life, and their in
trepidity at the approach of death. All these

124

THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS FOR

[SER. LXVIII.

advantages and many others, without which
the most brilliant condition, and the most de
licious life, are only a splendid slavery, and a
source of grief, all these advantages, 1 say, are
inseparable from piety. A charitable man can
not see, without deep affliction, objects of his
tenderest love renounce such inestimable ad
vantages, poison the pleasure of their own life,
open an inexhaustible source of remorse, and
prepare for themselves racks and tortures.

But, my brethren, these are only the least
subjects of our present contemplation. We
have other bitter reflections to make, and other
tears to shed, and there is an exposition of
charity more just, and at the same time more
lamentable, of the words of my text, " Rivers
of waters run down mine eyes, because they
keep not thy law."

I am thinking of the eternal misery in which
sinners involve themselves. We are united to
sinners by ties of nature, by bonds of society,
and by obligations of religion, and who can help
trembling to think that persons round whom so
many tendrils of affectionate ligaments twine,
should be threatened with everlasting torments!
Some people are so much struck with this
thought, that they think, when we shall be in
heaven all ideas of people related to us on earth
will be effaced from our memory, that we shall
entirely lose the power of remembering, that
we shall not even know such as share celestial
happiness with us, lest the idea of such as are
deprived of it should diminish our pleasure, and
imbitter our happiness. It would be easy, in
my opinion to remove this difficulty, if it were
necessary now. In heaven order, and order
alone will be the foundation of our happiness;
and if order condemns the persons we shall have
most esteemed, our happiness will not be af
fected by their misery. We shall love only in
God; we shall feel no attachment to any, who
do not love God as we do: their cries will not
move us, nor will their torments excite our
compassion.

But while we are in this world, God would
have us affected with the misery that threatens
a sinner, that our own feelings may excite us
to prevent it. You have sometimes admired
one of the most marvellous phenomena of na
ture; nature has united us together by invisible
*bonds, it has formed our fibres in perfect unison
with the fibres of our neighbour; we cannot see
him exposed to violent pain without receiving
a counter blow, an unvaried tone that sounds
relief to him, and forces us to assist him. This
is the work of that Creator, whose infinite good
ness is seen in all his productions. He intends
that these sentiments of commiseration in us
should be so many magazines to supply what i
the temporal miseries of our neighbours require.
So in regard to eternity, there is a harmony,
and, if you will allow the expression, there is a
unison of spirits. While we are in this world,
an idea of the eternal destruction of a person
we esteem suspends the pleasure, which a hope
of salvation promised to ourselves would other
wise cause. It is the work of the Creator,
whose goodness shines brighter in religion than
in the works of nature. That horror, which is
caused by a bare appearance, that the man we
BO tenderly love should be reserved for eternal
torments, I say, the bare suspicion of such a

calamitous event compels us to flee to the aid
of the unhappy object of our esteem, to pluck
him from the jaws of destruction by reclaiming
him from his errors with the force of exhorta
tion and the power of example. To combat
these sentiments is to oppose the intention of
God; to tear these from our hearts is to disrobe
ourselves of that charity, without which there
is no religion.

Accordingly, the more a mind becomes per
fect in the exercise of this virtue, the more it
has of this kind of sensibility. Hence it was
that St. Paul so sharply reproved the Corin
thians, because they had not mourned on ac
count of that incestuous person, who had dis
graced their church. Hence it was that Moses,
when he discovered that gross idolatry of which
we just now spoke, gave himself up to the deep
est sorrow, and said to the Lord, "Oh, this
people have sinned a great sin! Yet now, for
give their sin, and if not, blot me, I pray thee,
out of thy book." Hence it was that Jeremiah
said to the Jews of his time, who were going
captives into a foreign land, where they would
be destitute of the comfort of religion, "give
glory to God before he cause darkness, and
before your feet stumble upon the dark moun
tains. But if ye will not hear it, my soul shall
weep in secret places for your pride, and mine
eyes shall weep sore, and run down with tears,
because the Lord's flock is carried away cap
tive." Hence this declaration of Paul to the
Philippians, " Many walk, of whom I have told
you often, and now tell you even weeping, that
they are the enemies of the cross of Christ."
Hence it was that Jesus Christ, the chief model
of charity, when he overlooked the unhappy
Jerusalem, and saw the heavy judgments
coming upon it, " wept over it," saying, " O
that thou hadst known, even thou, at least in
this thy day, the things which belong unto thy
peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes."
Here I venture to defy those of you, who
glory in insensibility, to be insensible and void
of feeling. No, nothing but the most confirmed
'nattention to futurity, nothing but the wretch
ed habit we have formed of thinking of nothing
but the present world can hinder our being
affected with subjects which made the deepest
repressions on the soul of the psalmist. Con
sider them as he did, and you will be affected
as he was. You hardest hearts, try your in
sensibility, and see whether you can resist such
reflections as these! This friend, who is my
counsel in difficulty, my support in trouble, my
comfort in adversity; this friend, who consti
tutes the pleasure of my life, will be perhaps for
ever excluded from that happiness in heaven,
to which all my hopes and wishes tend: when
I shall be in the society of angels, he will be in
the company of devils: when he shall knock at
the door of the bridegroom who opened to me,
he will receive this answer, " Verily, I say unto
you, I know you not." This catechumen, in
whose mind I endeavoured to inculcate the
truths of religion; a part of the men, whom I
thought I had subdued to Jesus Christ; a great
number of these hearers, whom I often told,
that they would be my joy and crown in the
day of the Lord (certainly "you are our joy
and crown,") will perhaps be one day disowned
by Jesus Christ in the face of heaven and earth.

SER. LXVIII.]

THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED.

125

This pastor, whom I considered as my guide in
the way to heaven, this pastor will himself ex
perience all the horrors of that state, of which
he gave me such dreadful ideas. This husband
to whom Providence united me, this husband
whom I esteemed as part of myself, I shall per
haps one day consider as my most mortal foe,
I shall acquiesce in his damnation, I shall praise
God and say, " Hallelujah, power belongeth
unto the Lord our God! True and righteous
are his judgments! Hallelujah, the smoke of
the torment" of him whose company once con
stituted my happiness, " shall rise up for ever
and ever!" This child, in behalf of whom I
feel I exhaust all that the power of love has of
tenderness, this child whose least cry pierces
my soul, and who feels no pain without my
feeling a thousand times more for him, this
child will be seized with horror, when he shall
see coming in the clouds of heaven surrounded
with holy angels that Jesus whose coming will
overwhelm me with joy: this child will then
seek refuge in dens, and caverns, and chasms,
he will cry in agony of despair, " Mountains
and rocks, fall on me and hide me from the
wrath of the Lamb!" He will be loaded with
chains of darkness, he will be a prey to the
Worm that never dies, and fuel for the fire that
will never be quenched, and when Jesus Christ
shall say to me in that great day, " Come, thou
blessed of my Father," I shall hear this dread
ful sentence denounced against this child, " de
part, thou cursed, into everlasting fire prepared
for the devil and his angels. " Too j ust a subject
of grief! " Rivers of waters," tears of love and
pity, " run down mine eyes: because they keep
not thy law."

III. So earnestly do I desire to have your
attention fixed on the objects just now men
tioned, that I shall hardly venture to finish the
plan proposed, and to proceed to a third part
of this discourse. I wish you were so alarmed
with the eternal misery that threatens to over
whelm your fellow-citizens and friends, your
husbands and children, and so employed to pre
vent it, that you were become as it were in
sensible to the temporal ills to which the ene
mies of God expose you. However, we do not
pretend that love to our neighbours should
make us forget what we owe ourselves. As
the excesses of the wicked made our prophet
shed tears of charity, so they caused him to shed
tears of self-interest.

The wicked are the scourges of society.
One seditious person is often sufficient to dis
turb the state; one factious spirit is often enough
to set a whole church in a flame; one profligate
child is often enough to poison the pleasure of
the most happy and harmonious family. Good
people are generally the butts of the wicked.
A wicked man hates a good man. He hates
him, when he has not the power to hurt him,
because he has not had the pleasure of hurting
him; he hates him, after he has injured him,
because he considers him as a man always ready
to revenge the affront offered him; and if he
thinks him superior to revenge, he hates him
because he is incapable of vengeance, and be
cause the patience of the offended and the rage
of the offender form a contrast, which renders
the latter abominable in the eyea of all equitable
people.

A good man, on the contrary, is happy in the
company of another good man. What coun
trymen feel, when they meet in a foreign land
where interests and customs, maxims and
views, all different from those of the land of
their nativity, resembles the pleasures believers
experience when they associate in a world
where they are only strangers and pilgrims.
Accordingly, one of the most ardent wishes of
our prophet was, to be always in company with
people of this kind, " I am a companion of all
them that fear thee, and of them that keep thy
precepts," said he to God. In another place,
" I will early destroy all the wicked of the land,
that I may cut off all wicked doers from the
city of the Lord." And again, "All my delight
is in the excellent saints that are in the earth."
But how few of these saints did he find!
Most of his misfortunes were brought on him
by the very sinners whose depravity he deplores*
They were the poison of his life, and them he
always saw standing ready to persecute him,
and to discharge against his person the impotent
malice they had against that God whose servant
he considered it as his glory to be.

Does our age differ in this respect from that
of David? Are saints more numerous now than
they were then? May a good man promise
himself among you more approbation, more
countenance and support, than the psalmist
found?

Tins is an odious question, and our doubts
may seem to you illiberal. Well, we will not
press it. But if the bulk of you be saints, this
country must be the most delicious part of the
whole universe. A good man must be as hap
py as it is possible to be in this world. In these
provinces, free by constitution, opulent by
trade, invincible by alliances, and perfectly safe
by the nature of their government from tyrants
arid tyranny, if the number of saints be greater
in these provinces than that of the wicked, it
must be the most delicious of all residences in
this world for a good man: if he stumbles, you
will charitably save him from falling, if he errs,
you will patiently bear with him, and gently
reclaim him; if he be oppressed, you will assist
him with firmness and vigour; if he form
schemes of piety, charity, and reformation, you
will second him with eagerness and zeal; if he
sacrifice his health, and ease, and fortune, for
our good, you will reward him with gratitude,
yea with profusion. May a good man promise
himself all this among you? Alas! to be only
willing to devote himself to truth and virtue, is
often sufficient to cause him to be beset round
; with a company of contradictors and opposers.
But we will not engage too deeply in such
gloomy reflections, we will finish the discourse,
and can we finish it in a manner more suitable
i to the emotions of piety that assembled you in
1 this solemn assembly, than by repeating the
' prayer with which we began? Almighty God!
' whose adorable judgments condemns us to wan-
! der in a valley of trouble, and to live, sometimes
! to be united by indissoluble ties, among men
; who insolently brave thy commands, Almighty
! God! grant we may be gathered to that holy
! society of blessed spirits, who place their hap-
; piness in a perfect conformity to thine august
! laws.
t The occupation of the blessed in heaven,

126

THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS, &c.

[SER. LXVIII.

(and this is one of the most beautiful images
under which a man who loves his God, can
represent the happiness of heaven,) the em
ployment of the blessed in heaven is to serve
God; their delight is to serve God; the design
of all the plans, and all the actions, and the
motions of the blessed in heaven, is to serve
God. And as the most laudable grief of a be
liever in this unhappy world, which sin makes
a theatre of bloody catastrophes, and a habita
tion of maledictions, is to see the unworthy
inhabitants violate the laws of their Creator, so
the purest joys of the blessed, is to see them
selves in a society where all the members are
always animated with a desire to please God,
always ready to fly where his voice calls them,
always collected in studying his holy laws.

This is the society to which you, my dear
brethren, are appointed; you who, after the
example of Lot, vex your righteous souls from
day to day at seeing the depravity of the world;
you, I mean, " who shine as lights in the midst
of a crooked and perverse nation." Into that
society those happy persons are gone, whom
death has taken from us, and a separation from
whom has caused us so many sighs and tears.
Behold, faithful friend! behold the company
where now resides that friend to whom your
soul was knit, as the soul of Jonathan was knit
with the soul of David! See, thou weeping
Joseph! See that society where thy good fa
ther now is, that good Jacob whom thou didst
convey to the grave with tears so bitter, that
the inhabitants of Canaan called the place
where thou didst deposit the body, " Abel-
Mizraim, a grievous mourning to the Egyp
tians." Look, frail father! look at that society,
there is thy son, at whose death thou didst ex
claim, "O Absalom, my son, would God I had
died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!"
And you, too, distressed Rachels! whose voices
are heard lamenting, weeping, and mourning,
refusing to be comforted, because your children
are notj see, behold there in heaven your chil

dren, the dear objects of your grief and your
love!

Oh! " Blessed are the dead that die in the
Lord! I shall go to him, but he shall not return
to me." Let us apply this thought of the pro
phet to ourselves, and may the application we
make, serve for a balm to heal the wounds,
which the loss of our friends has occasioned!
" They shall not return to us," they shall never
return to this society. What a society! A so
ciety in which our life is nothing but a mise
rable round of errors and sins; a society where
the greatest saints are great sinners; a society
in which we are often obliged to communicate
with the enemies of God, with blasphemers of
his holy name, violaters of his august laws!
No, they shall not " return to us," and this is
one consolation. But (and this is the other,)
but " we shall go to them." They have done
nothing but set one step before us into eternity;
the pleasures they enjoy are increased by the
hope of our shortly enjoying the same with
them. They, with the highest transports, be
hold the mansions which Jesus Christ has pre
pared for us in the house of his Father. " I
ascend unto my Father and your Father, and
to my God and your God," said our divine
Redeemer, to raise the drooping spirits of his
apostles, stunned with the apprehension of his
approaching death. This is the language we
have heard spoken, this is the declaration we
have heard made by each of those whom we
have had the consolation of seeing die full of
the peace of God, " I ascend unto my Father
and your Father, and to my God and your
God." O may we be shortly united in the
bosom of this adorable Being with our departed
friends, whose conversation was lately so de
lightful to us, and whose memory will always
continue respected and dear! May we be
united with the redeemed of all nations, and
kindreds, and people, and tongues, in the pre
sence of the blessed God! God grant us this
grace! To him be honour and glory, for ever.
Amen.

AN

ESSAY

ON THE

CONDUCT OF DAVID

AT THE

COURT OP ACHISH, KING OF GATH,

ITU A

LETTER OF MR. DUMONT

PASTOR OF THE FRENCH CHURCH AT ROTTERDAM, AND PROFESSOR OF THE ORIENTAL
LANGUAGES, AND ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY

TO

MR. SAURIN, AT THE HAGUE

TRANSLATED BY ROBERT ROBINSON.

ADVERTISEMENT.

GABRIEL DUMONT, author of the following essay, was born at
Crest, in Dauphiny, August 19th, 1680, and died at Rotterdam, Janu
ary 1st, 1748. He was a refugee for religion, pastor of the Waloon
church at Rotterdam, and professor of Oriental languages and Ecclesi
astical history. He published nothing himself during his life; 4)ut,
after his decease, Mr. Superville, his colleague, published, with a
short preface, one volume of his sermons, containing twelve discourses,
the most plain, artless, and edifying that I have ever had the happiness
of reading; not so disputatious as those of Amyraut, not so grave as
those of Superville, not so stiff as those of Torne and Bourdaloue, not
so far-fetched and studied as those of Massillon, nor so charged with
colouring as those of Saurin: but placid, ingenious, gentle, natural,
and full of evidence and pathos: just as " wisdom from above" should
be, " pure, peaceable, mild — full of mercy and good fruits — sown in
peace to make peace," James iii. 17, 18. The public owe this volume
to Mademoiselle de Heuqueville, the pious patroness and friend of the
author, who had, as it were, extorted them from him before his death.

Mr. Saurin, who published this essay in his dissertations on the
Bible, says, " I follow our version, and the general sense of interpre
ters* A learned man (Mr. Dumont,) has investigated the subject at
large, and, if he does not furnish us with demonstrations in favour of
the system he proposes, yet his conjectures are so full of erudition, and
so very probable, that we cannot help admiring them, while we feel an
inclination to dispute them."

For my part, I own, if I may venture a conjecture, I think Mr. Du
mont has placed his opinion in a light both beautiful, and, in a very
high degree, probable. To sum uj) his meaning, he would read the
passage thus: —

1 SAMUEL, chap. xxi.

Ver. 10. And David fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to
Achish, the king of Gath.

11. And the servants of Achish said unto him, Is not this David the
king of the Land? did they not sing one to another of him in dances,
saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands?

12. And David was struck to the heart with these words, and was
sore afraid of Achish, king of Gath.

13. And he changed countenance before them, and fell convulsed
into their hands, and he hurt and marked himself against the posts of
the gate, and he frothed on his beard.

14. Then said Achish unto his servants, Lo, you see the man is
epileptic: wherefore then have you brought him unto me?

15. Have I need of epileptics, that ye have brought this man to fall
into convulsions in my presence? Shall this fellow come into my
house?

AN ESSAY

THE CONDUCT OF DAVID AT THE COURT OF ACHISH,
KING OF GATH.

SIR,

I MAY venture to call the letter I have the
honour to write you, " An apology for the con
duct of David at the court of king Achish,"
for my design is to prove three things: First,
that if David had counterfeited madness on the
occasion mentioned in the twenty-first chapter
of the first book of Samuel, he would not have
committed any sin. Secondly, that David did
not feign himself mad, as is generally sup
posed. And thirdly, that this heir apparent
to the crown of Israel, had not, at the court of
Gath, the least degree of madness, either real
or feigned.

I. If you were a man who decided a point
of morality by human authority, I might al
lege, in favour of this first article, the follow
ing distich of Cato:

Insipiens esto, cum tempus postulat, aut res;
Stultitiam simulare loco, prudentia summa est.*

Independently of this author, of whom we hard
ly know either the true name, the religion, the
country, or the age, every body will allow that
there is a good deal of wisdom required to
play the fool properly. Madness is no sin, it
is a disease of the mind, or rather of the brain.
David, it is to be observed, during his pre
tended madness, said nothing criminal. He
did a few apparent acts of a person insane.
Why might he not be allowed to free himself
from imminent danger by this prudent dissimu
lation? To treat of this question fully and ac
curately, it would be necessary to go to the
bottom of the subject, and examine the grounds
and principles of the obligations men are un
der to speak and act sincerely to one another.
It might not be improper to investigate this
matter by inquiring, whether, in this recipro
cal engagement, there be any difference be
tween deceiving by words known and agreed
on between mankind, and misleading, by ac
tions, the natural signs of the sentiments of
our hearts. Particularly, it should be examin
ed, whether there be no cases in which this
kind of contract is in a sort suspended, and
whether David were not in one of these cases,
m which he was not obliged so to act, as to
convey to king Achish his true and real senti
ments. But as I know, sir, you have examin
ed this subject in the case of Samuel, I will
confine myself to two arguments, supported by
a few facts, relative to the conduct attributed
to David in order to justify him.

First, his life was in danger; and will not a

* Disticha de mocibus, lib. ii, Dial. 18.

VOL. II.— 17

man give all that he has for life? Have we
not a right to do every thing except sin to
avoid death? Blame, and welcome, the cruel
policy of Dionysius of Sicily,* who sometimes
spread a report that he was sick, and some
times that he had been assassinated by his sol
diers, with a design to discover, by the un
guarded conversation of his subjects, how they
stood affected to his government, that he might
have a pretence for proscribing such as were
ill affected to his despotism. Censure, if you
please, the king of Ithaca, and the astronomer
Metonf for pretending to have lost their senses,
the first for the sake of his continuing with his
dear Penelope, and the last to avoid accom
panying the Athenians in an expedition against
Sicily. Pity, if you will, the two monks Si
meon and Thomas,! who affected to play the
fool, lest the extraordinary holiness of their
lives should not be perceived. I freely give
up these tyrants and hypocrites to the most se
vere criticism; and I am inclined to be of the
opinion of Cicero, § who calls the finesse of
Ulysses, non honestum consilium, a disingenu
ous conduct. Form, if you think proper, the
same opinion of the stratagem of the famous
St. Ephraim,|| who, understanding that he was
chosen bishop, and that they were going to
force him to be ordained, ran into a public
place, walked irregularly, let fall his robe,
went eating along the streets, and did so many
actions of this kind, that every body thought
he had lost his senses. He watched his oppor
tunity, fled aixl concealed himself, and con
tinued to do thus till they had nominated
another bishop. I will not pretend to say,
whether this proceeded from his contempt of
vain glory, as SozomenlT pretends, or from his
great love of retirement, for he was XO-O%»M;
«*,- »r*v epxa-ryii. For my part, I make no scru
ple to say of this artifice, as well as of the
trick ho played Apollinaris,** non honestum
consilium. But you, sir, who are such a good
citizen, will you condemn the wise Solonff
for counterfeiting distraction, in order to divert
his fellow-citizens of Athens from their resolu
tion to abandon Salamin, his country, to the
inhabitants of Megara? You, sir, who are no

* Polyaenus Stratag. 1. v. cap. 2. S. 15, 16.

f jElian variar. historiar. lib. xiii. cap. 12.

J Eyagrius. Hist. Eccles. lib. iv. cap. 34.

§ Cic. de officiis. lib. iii. cap. 26.

II Sozomen Hist. Eccl. lib. iii. cap. 16.

1T Soz. ibid.

** Greg, de Nyssen Paneg. de S. Ephr.

tf Diogenes Laert. lib. i. in Solone.

130

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS.

enemy to prudence, will you disapprove the
opinion given of Lucius Junius Brutus,*

Brutus erat stulti sapiens imitator.

He affected to be stupid, lest he should become
suspected by Tarquin the proud, who had put
to death his father and his eldest brother, for
the sake of seizing their great wealth. It
should seem, that on supposition David acted
a part when he was in danger of his life, in a
place where he had fled for refuge, it would be
a sufficient justification of his character to say,
that he thought he might innocently make use
of such a stratagem.

2. If the danger of losing his life be not suf
ficient, let it be observed farther, that the de
ception was directed to the Philistines, with
whom the Israelites were then at war. This
is a second argument to justify the conduct of
David. When was it ever unlawful to use
stratagems in war? Did not God, himself,
order the Israelites to "lie in ambush" and
" to flee" before the inhabitants of Ai, in order
" to draw them from the city?" Is there any
less evil in affecting cowardice than there is
in pretending to be deprived of reason? Where
is the general, who would not be glad to take
cities at the same price as Callicratidas of Cy-
renef took the fort of Magnesia, by introduc
ing four soldiers, who pretended to be sick?
You have observed, sir, in Buchanan's excel
lent history of Scotland,;}; the manner in which
king Duncan defeated the army of Swen king
of Norway, who was besieging him in Perth.
He sent the besiegers a great quantity of wine
and beer, in which some herbs of noxious
qualities had been infused, and while this so
porific was taking effect, he went into the
camp, and put the whole army to the sword,
except the prince of Norway, and^en soldiers,
who had suspected the present made them by
the enemy, and had not tasted the beverage.
The herb is supposed to be the solatium or
strychnos of Pliny,§ the night shade, which in
a certain quantity stupifies, in a greater quan
tity distracts, and if more than two drachms,
causes death. For these two reasons, then,
I conclude that my first proposition is suffi
ciently clear. I said, if David had counter
feited madness, and played the fool, he would
not have committed any sin: first, because
his life was in danger: and secondly, be
cause the Philistines were at war with his
country.

II. If any continue obstinately to maintain
that the dissimulation of David was criminal,
and opposite to sincerity and good faith, I
have another string to my bow, to defend this
illustrious refugee. I affirm that David did
not play the fool, and act a part; but that, be
ing seized with extreme fear at hearing the
conversation of the ministers of state, in the
court of king Achish, he fell under a real ab
sence of mind, and behaved, in a few instances,

* Dion. Halicarn. Antiquitat. Roman, lib. 4.

t Polyaenus Stratag. lib. ii. cap. 27, S. I.

\ Buchanani Hist. Scotica. — Rem. This tale is not
credited by some historians, and indeed it appears
highly improbable in itself. Mr. Outhrie calls it an
infamous and improbable story. — Hist, of Scot. Vol. I.
p. 234.

$ Plin. Hist. Nat. lib. »i. cap. 31.— Salmas ad Solin.
p. 1086.

like a man disordered in his senses.
tian Schmidt,* a celebrated Lutheran divine,
proposed as a kind of problem, whether Pro
vidence might not permit David to be terri
fied into a momentary delirium, in order to
effect his deliverance. Mr. John Christian
Ortlob, a learned man of Leipsicf published a
dissertation, in 1706, on the delirium of David
before king Jlchish, in which he shows, that
the whole of the sacred text in Samuel natu
rally leads us to judge that David was so
struck with the fear of sudden death, that for
a few moments his understanding was absent.
As this thesis is little known in this country,
and as it is curious in itself, you will not be
displeased, sir, if I give you here a sketch of
what he says.

1. Mr. Ortlob shows, that dissimulation was
impracticable in David's condition. Either
he affected to play the fool the moment he
was seized by the servants of the king, or
only while he was in the presence of Achish.
The text is contrary to the first, for it express
ly assures us that this madness of David was
in consequence of the conversation that passed
between Achish and his officers in the pre
sence of David. The second supposition is
not at all likely, for it would have been very
imprudent for him to begin to act his part in
the presence of Achish; his officers would
have discovered the artifice, and would have
informed their master: beside, it is incon
ceivable that David should continue from his
being first taken to that moment as mute as a
fish, in order to conceal a design which re
quired a state of mind more tranquil than that
of David could be, in a danger so imminent.

2. Next, Mr. Ortlob proceeds to prove,
that David had a true and natural alienation
of mind.

The first proof is, his fear of danger. Da
vid, says the twelfth verse, " laid up the words
in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish the
king of Gath." The terror that seized his
soul affected the organs of his body, and dis
concerted the fibres of his brain. There are
many examples of persons affected in like
manner with sudden fear. Our learned au
thor relates the case of a girl of ten years of
age,J who was so terrified with thunder and
lightning in a furious tempest, that she was
seized with violent convulsions in her left
arm and her left leg. Though she did not
lose her senses, yet she was constrained to
flee on the other foot along the wainscot of
the chamber, and the company could not stop
her.

The next proof is taken from the expressions
of the inspired writer, which simply and lite
rally explained, signify a real madness.

" David changed his behaviour." It is in
the Hebrew, his taste, that is his reason, for
reason is, in man, what taste is in regard to
aliments.

" And he became mad." The Hebrew verb

| halal, in the conjugation hithpael, as it is here,

always signifies in Scripture real, and not

* D. Sebast. Schmidius in 1 Sam. xxi.

f Davidis delirium coram Achis. Lipsiae, 1706, 4. p.
24.

J Ephemer. Med. Phyg, Germ. Academiae, curioeo-
rum, An. 8. Obsenr. 71.

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS.

131

feigned madness; and there is nothing in the
text which obliges us to depart from a sense
that perfectly agrees with the simplicity of
the history. The French and English versions
render it, he feigned himself mad; but they are
wrong, for the original says nothing about
feigning.

" He scrabbled on the doors of the gate."
Cornelius a Lapide thinks he wrote the letter
tau to form the figure of the cross. Rabbi
Schabtai, in a German book entitled Esrim
Vearba,* was better informed, and he says
David wrote on the gates of the palace, " The
king owes me a hundred thousand guilders,
and his kingdom, fifty thousand." Mr. Ortlob,
learned as he is, does not know so much as the
Rabbi and the Jesuit. He contents himself
with observing, that David, all taken up with
his delirium, and having no instrument in his
hand to write, scratched the gate with his
fingers, like people in a malignant fever. He
observes also, that the indecent manner in
which David " let his spittle fall down upon
his beard," is a natural and usual consequence
of a delirium.

His third proof is taken from the connexion
of the whole history, which supposes and indi
cates real madness. " David changed his be
haviour:" the sacred author explains first in
what this change consisted, it was in becoming
mad in the presence of the king and his officers;
and he adds two actions of madness, the one
scratching and writing on the gates with his
fingers, and the other drivelling on his beard.

The last proof our author takes from the
consequences. Achish gives David his life and
liberty, as a man beneath his resentment. He
was angry with those who brought a madman
to him. David, on his side, escaped the
danger, recovered his spirits, and became him
self. There is no reason to question whether
he observed the precept given by himself in
the thirty-fourth Psalm, which he composed,
as well as the fifty-sixth, to praise God for his
deliverance, " keep thy lips from speaking
guile," ver. 13.

My second proposition was, that David did
not feign himself mad, as is usually supposed;
and Mr. Ortlob, in this treatise, has justified
David from the charge of every kiiiu of dis
simulation, and so far it gives me pleasure to
follow him; for this is an opinion more tole
rable than the former, but I must beg leave to
dissent from this learned writer, and to state
in the next place my own opinion, for I do not
think, as Mr. Ortlob does, that David had
any degree of madness.

III. I think the whole passage ought to be
understood of an epilepsy, a convulsion of the
whole body, with a loss of sense for the time.
Judge, sir, of the reasons on which I ground
this third proposition.

1. My first reason is taken from the original
terms, which perfectly agree with an epilepsy.
This is not easy to discover in our modern
versions; but it is very plain in the Septuagint,
and in the old Latin version, which our inter
preters often very injudiciously despise. The
authors of both these versions were in a better
condition than we are, to understand the force

* Printed in 1703.

and the real signification of Hebrew words and
idioms. I am fully persuaded we ought to
prefer these versions in the present case.

David, said the sacred historian, changed his
behaviour, or his taste. The Septuagint reads
it iixA.oitt><rs TO jrpocrcoTrov, au-rov., and the Vulgate,
immutavit os suum, he changed countenance. I
think this translation is better than that of Mr.
Ortlob, his reason was changed: because it is
added, before them, or in their sight, and in the
thirty-fourth psalm, before Jlbimelech, or in his
presence. It is well known, that the counte
nance of a person taken with an epilepsy is
suddenly changed. But should we retain the
I word reason, we might with equal justice say,
I that the reason, or the taste is changed in an
epileptic fit, because for a few moments reason
is absent.

2. Our version adds, he feigned himself mad
in their hands. The Septuagint seems to me
to have rendered the words much better,

TrufXCieiTO sv TO.IS ^igtriv ao-rov. He Struggled Or

tossed himself in their hands. (For I think the
preceding words in this version, " in that day
he feigned," is one of those interpolations,
which passed from the margin to the text;
and that the words, *«» «™ /tv»v *£«i/ m-i T«<; &u?».s
T»S 5TOA...OS, are of some other version, and have
got into the text as the former.) The He
brew word halal is a general term, which sig
nifies to agitate one's self, to shake, either by
twinkling like the stars, or by applauding like
some one, or by boasting of any thing of our
own, which the Latins call jactare, jactare se:
or by moving ourselves involuntarily, as a
paralytic man does, or a madman, or a person
in convulsions, or one in excessive joy. The
Septuagint could not translate the word here
better than by sragaipe pso-a^S, because srap«ipo|)oj
among the Greeks* is put for a distracted per
son, a demoniac, and because a body irregu
larly and involuntarily agitated is said =r<*p*<p e-
eea-iixt. , Aristotlef uses it in the same sense.
Having said that there seems something in the
soul of an intemperate man beside reason, and
opposite to it, he adds, he is like a paralytic
body, the patient aims to move the right hand
or the right foot, and the left hand and the left

foot mOVe TOUV*I/T»OI/ 6*5 T« Kfio-Tigx, x«,px$epST»t.

The only difference is, we perceive irregular
motions of the body, whereas those of the soul
are invisible. The Vulgate translates in a
manner more favourable still to my opinion,
et collabebatur inter manus eorum, he fell into
their hands. The term collabi, as well as ca-
dere, and corruere, are applied to the epilepsy,
which the Hebrews, like us, called the falling
sickness. All these Latin words may be seen
in this sense in the first apology of Apuleius.J
He addresses himself to JEmilianus, his adver
sary, to justify himself from the accusation of
having bewitched one Thallus, who was fallen
extremely ill with an epilepsy. Imo si verum
velis, JSmiliane, tu potius caducus qui jam tot
calumniis, cecidisti, neque enim gravius est
corpore quam corde collabi, pede potius quani
mente corruere, in cubiculo despui, quam iu
isto splendidissimo caetu detostari.

* Phavorinus in voce 7r«p«(*>opos.

t Aristot. Ethicor. ad Nichomacum, lib. 1. cap. 13.

$ Apuleius Apol. pro se ipso prima.

132

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS.

3. *And he marked the posts of the gates.
This is the version of the late Mr. Martin, but
allow me to lay aside all the versions of our
modern divines, and even those of the most
celebrated Rabbies, and to abide by my Sep
tuagint and my Vulgate. The Septuagint
renders it **v txumv «»•« T^,- 6up«; THS 5n,\>jS, and
the Vulgate says, et impingebat in ostia portice
and he hurt himself, or he dashed himself against
the posts of the gate. Munster* pretends indeed
that the Latin interpreter first wrote, etpingebat
in ostia portice, and that it was afterwards
changed into impingebat; but though this in
genious conjecture has been adopted by able
critics, yet it seems to me futile, because on
the one hand the Vulgate evidently follows the
Septuagint, and on the other, because the Latin
interpreter would have contradicted himself, col-
labebatur inter manus eorum, et pingebat in ostia
portice, if he fell into their hands how could he
write, or scratch with his fingers on the gate
or the door? Nor is it necessary with the cele
brated Lewis Capelf to suppose the change of
a letter, and to say that the Septuagint reads
vajatoph, instead of vajetau. The verb tava
signifies to mark, to make an impression, or
some print with the hand, or an instrument,
and to shake, and make the body tremble
where the mark is imprinted. David was
violently hurt against the posts of the gate, so
that marks were left in his flesh. This signifi
cation of the verb is agreeable to the Chaldean
language, in which teva signifies to tremble, to
shiver, and in the Arabic, where the same root
signifies to be troubled or astonished.

4. King Achish uses another word, which
modern translations render fool, madman. Lo,
you see the man is mad. Have I need of mad
men, and so on. The Septuagint, which I
follow step by step, and the authors of which
understood Hebrew better than we, translates it,
«Jou «JcT£ «vj?56 sTi^s'-Toi' and so on: Why have
you brought this man.-1 Do you not see that
he is attacked with an epilepsy? Have I need of
epileptics, that you have brought him to fall
into convulsions in my presence? This single
testimony of the Septuagint ought to determine
this question.

2. My second class of arguments is taken
from the scope of the place, and I think, even
supposing the original terms were as favourable
to the idea of folly or madness as they are to that
of an epilepsy, yet we should be more inclined
to the latter sense than to the former.

First, if there be some examples of persons
frightened into folly or madness, there are
more of persons terrified into an epilepsy.
Among the various causes of this sickness, the
author of a book on the subject, supposed to be
Hippocrates,;}; has given sudden fright as one.
It would be needless to multiply proofs when
a sorrowful experience daily gives us so many!
But I recollect one instance of the zeal of St.
Barnard,§ which deserves to be related, I do

not say to be applauded. William the Xth
Duke of Aquitain, and Count of Thoulouse,
declared himself against Innocent the lid in
favour of Peter de Leon, an antipope who had
taken the name of Anacletus the lid. The
Duke had driven the Bishops of Poictiers, and
of Limoges, from their sees. St. Barnard was
sent into Guienne to engage him to reconcile
himself to the holy see, and to re-establish the
two bishops, but he could not prevail with him
to be reconciled to the bishop of Poictiers.
While they were talking at the church gate,
St. Barnard went up to the altar and said mass.
Having consecrated the host, and pronounced
the benediction on the people, he took the body
of the Lord in a patine, and going out with a
countenance on fire, and with eyes in a flame,
he addressed with a threatening air these terri
ble words to the Duke: " We have entreated
you, but you have despised us. In a former
interview, a great number of the servants of
God besought you, and you treated them with
contempt. Behold, now the Son of the Virgin
comes to you, the head and lord of the church
you persecute. Behold your judge, at whose
name every name in heaven, earth, and hell,
bow. Behold the avenger of your crimes, into
whose hand, sooner or later, your stubborn
soul shall fall. Have you the hardiness to de
spise him? And will you contemn the master
as you have done the servants?" The specta
tors were all dissolved in tears, and the count
himself, unable to bear the sight of the abbott,
who addressed him with so much vehemence,
and who held up to him all the while the body
of the Lord, fell all shaking and trembling, to
the earth. Being raised up by his soldiers, he
fell back again, and lay on his face, saying no
thing and looking at nobody, but uttering deep
groans, and letting his spittle fall down on his
beard, and discovering all the signs of a person
convulsed in an epilepsy. St. Barnard ap
proached, pushed him with his foot, commanded
him to rise, and to stand up and hear the de
cree of God. " The bishop of Poictiers, whom
<you have driven from his church, is here; go
and reconcile yourself to him; and by giving-
him a holy kiss of peace become friendly, and
reconduct him yourself to his see. Satisfy the
God you have offended, render him the glory
due to his name, and recall all your divided
subjects into the unity of faith and love. Sub
mit yourself to pope Innocent; and as all the
church obeys him, resign yourself to this eminent
pontiff chosen by God himself. At these words
the count ran to the bishop, gave him the kiss
of peace, and re-established him in his see."

2. I return, sir, from this digression, which
is not quite foreign to my subject, to observe,
in the second place, that the sacred historian
attributes to David the three characteristical
marks of the falling sickness, falling, convul
sion, and frothing. Falling, for it is said he

* Munsterus ia h. 1. in criticis
Achish. Rem. C.

f L. Capellus criticise sacra libro. iv. cap. 5. S. 35.

\ Hippocrates Trif «£?<*s voo-oo. T. ii. S. xi. p. 336.

§ Vita Sancti Bernardi. lib. ii. cap. 6. n. 38. Roga-
vimus te, et sprevisti nos, supplicavit tibi in altero
quara jam tecum habuimus, conventu servorum Dei
ante te adunata multitude, et contempsisli. Ecce ad te

I processit filius Virginia, qui est caput et Dominus

Iecclt'siae, quam tu persequeris. Adest Judex luus, in
, cujus nomine omne genu curvatur caelestium, terrestriurn
et infernorum. Adest vindex tuus, in cnjus manua ilia
anima tua deveniet. Nunquid et ipsum spernes? Nun-
quid et ipsum sicut servos ejus cpntemnea?

Elevatus a militibus, rursum in faciem ruit, nee quip-
piam alieni loquens, aut intendens in aliquem, saKois in
barbam deftuentibus, cum profundis efflatis gemitibus,
epilepticus videbatur.

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS.

133

fell " into the hands" of the officers of the
king: convulsion, for he hurt himself against
the " posts of the gate:" and frothing, for he
let fall his " spittle upon his beard." These
are symptoms, which Isidore of Seville gives
of an epilepsy,* cujus tanta vis est, ut homo
valens concidat, spumetque. We may see the
cause, or at least what physicians say of it, in
the work of Hippocrates just now quoted, in
the posthumous works of Mr. Manjot, and in
all the treatises of pathological physic, The
manner in which Hippocrates explains the
symptom of froth seems very natural, «<?po0 Si
fx TOU <TTOM«TO?, &c. The froth, that comes
out of the mouth, proceeds from the lungs,
which, not receiving any fresh air, throw up
little bubbles, like those of a dying man.

3. The horror of king Achish concerning the
condition of David, is a third reason, which
confirms our opinion. " You see," said this
prince to his officers, " this man is epileptic,
shall such a man come into my house? And
he drove him away," as it is said in the title
of the thirty-fourth psalm. According to the
common opinion, David feigned himself a na
tural, a fool, not a madman: he did actions of
imbecility, and silliness, not of madness and
fury. Now the ancients, far from having any
aversion to this sort of fools, kept them in
their palaces to make diversion. Tarquin the
proud kept Lucius Junius Brutus in his family
less as a relation of whom he meant to take
care, than as a fool to please his children by
absurd discourses and ridiculous actions. Ana-
charsis, who lived about three hundred years
after David, could not bear this custom of the
Greeks. This wise Scythian said, " Man was a
thing too serious to be destined to a usage so
ridiculous."! Seneca, in one of his letters to
Lucilius, speaks of a female fool, whom his
wife had left him for a legacy, and who had
suddenly lost her sight.J She did not know
she was blind, and was always asking to be let
out of a house where she could see nothing.
Seneca says, that he had a great dislike to this
kind of singularities; that if ever he should
take it into his head to divert himself with a
fool, he need not go far in search of one, that
he would make a fool of himself: and he agree
ably compares mankind with their defects to
Harpasta the fool of his wife. Every body
knows, adds this philosopher,^ ambition is not
my vice, but we cannot live otherwise at
Rome. I dislike luxury, but to live at a great
expense is essential to living in this great city;
and so on. Pliny the younger, writing to one
of his friends, complained of having misspent
his time at an elegant supper through the im
pertinence of these fools, who interrupted con
versation: he says, that every one had his own
whim; that he had no relish for such absurdi
ties; but that some complaisance was necessary
to the taste of our acquaintances.

It was not the same with madmen, and
particularly epileptics. Every body carefully

* Isidor, Hispaliensis originum lib. iii. cap. 7. De
ehronieis morbis, voce Epilepsia. p. 33. Col. A. lit. c.
Hippocrat. ut supra.

f Apud Eustathium in Homerum.

I Seneca. Epist. 30.

6 Hoc, quod in ilia videmus, omnibus nobis accidere
liqueat tibi.— Plin. Ep. lib. ix. 17.

avoided them, and thought, to meet them was
a bad omen. Dion Cassius says, the Roman
senate always broke up, when any one of them
happened to be taken with an epilepsy, for
which reason it was called morbus comitialis,*
witness these verses of Serenus Sammonicus:

Est subiti species ir.orbi, cui nomen ab illo est,
Quod fieri nobis suffragia justa recusat:
Saepe etenim membris acri languore caducis,
Consilium populi labes horrenda diremit.

Pliny the elder,f who relates the same thing,
informs us of another custom, that was, to spit
at the sight of an epileptic: Despuimus comi-
tiales morbos, hoc est, contagia regerimus;
simili modo et fascinationes repercutimus,
dextrseque clauditatis accursum. There was
then as much superstition in this custom as
aversion to the illness. Accordingly Theo-
phrastes has not forgotten, in his character of
a superstitious man, to represent him seized
with horror, and spitting at meeting a mad
man, or an epileptic.J This was so common,
and so much confined to an epilepsv, that it
was frequently called the sickness to be spitted
at: Thus Plautus, in the comedy of the Cap
tives, where Tyndarus, to prevent Hegio from
staying with Aristophontes, accuses him of be
ing subject to the illness that is spit at.§

In this custom of spitting at the sight of an
epileptic, I think I have formed a very proba
ble conjecture on another famous passage of
Scripture; but, sir, I shall do myself the honour
to treat of this in a future letter to you. At
present, I avail myself of this custom to explain
why Achish discovered so much indignation
against his courtiers, and so much disdain for
David, and why he drove him so quickly from
his palace.

4. In fine, I think, it is easy to see in the
thanksgiving psalms, which David composed
after he had escaped this imminent danger,
several indications of the nature of the illness
that had seized him so suddenly. It is agreed
that he composed the thirty-fourth and the
fifty-sixth on this occasion, as the titles assure
us, and to them I add the thirty-first and the
hundred and sixteenth, concerning which I beg
leave to make two remarks.

First, that the hundred and sixteenth has so \
much connexion with the fifty-sixth, and the
thirty-first with the hundred and sixteenth,
that it is very evident these three psalms were
composed at the same time, and in view of the
same deliverance: with this difference, how
ever, that in the fifty-sixth David confines
himself to the malignity of his enemies, to the
punishment they might expect, and to his own
confidence in God, who engaged him to despise
all their efforts; whereas in the thirty-first he
expresses more clearly the terror which had
been excited in him by the conversation of
Achish and his officers, and the prayers which
he had addressed to the Lord in his distress.
In the hundred and sixteenth he attends more
to the success of these prayers, and to the gra
titude he felt for deliverance from his great
danger, and to the profound impression which

* Dio Cassius. lib. 37.
f Plin. lib. xxviii. cap. 4.

j Theophrastes Charact. trig < £Ei<r<£cc(/*ov<c«$.
§ Plut. Capt. Act. iii. Seen. 4. ver. 15, &c. morbus qui
insputatur.

134

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS

his late situation had made on his mind. A
bare parallel of these three hymns discovers a
great resemblance both in sentiment and ex
pression. Compare Ps. Ivi. verses 5. 9. 11 —
14, with cxvi. 8. 12, 13. 17. 14. 18. 8. 9. — and
cxvi. 1—3. 11. 16, with xxxi. 23, 24. 3. 10, 11.
23. 17.

The second observation I make on the thirty-
first and hundred and sixteenth psalm is, that
they perfectly agree with the occasion of the
two other psalms, and that some passages seem
to refer to the supposed epileptic fit. The
cause is remarked Ps. xxxi. 10, 11. 14. The
effects and consequences are spoken of in the
same psalm, ver. 12, 13. The condition to
which the illness had reduced David is de
scribed Ps. cxvi. 11. — Ps. xxxi. 23, (22 in the
English version,) " I said in my haste, I am cut
off from before thine eyes. All men are liars."
However the Hebrew words rendered in my
haste be translated, either with the Septuagint
in my ecstacy, or with Symmachus in my swoon
or fainting fit, or with the old Italian version,
tn my great dread, or with St. Jerome in my
stupefaction,* either of the senses supposes and
confirms my opinion. Suidas explains the word
ecstacy, which the Septuagint uses here by
e*vft»<r/tef xot. <*A.\o«««r<?. This last word is the
same as that in the title of the thirty-fourth
psalm, where David is said to have changed
countenance, for so I think it should be trans
lated.

In regard to the two psalms before mentioned,
which were always understood to be composed
on this occasion, they both of them furnish a
great deal to establish our opinion.

In the fifty-sixth psalm, there is a verse, the
seventh I mean, which modern interpreters
seem not to have well understood. David
there, speaking of his enemies, says, according
to our version, " Shall they escape by iniquity?
In thine anger cast down the people, O God."
I think the words may be rendered, without
violence to the original, O God, because of
their iniquity spue them out, and cast down
the people in thine anger;f because the Hebrew
word palleth, which in the conjugation kal
signifies to escape, when it is in the conjugation
piel signifies to vomit , to reject; so the celebrated
Rabbi David Kimchi says. Indeed the Chaldee
paraphrastj uses it in two places in this sense,
Lev. xviii. 28. 25, " The land itself vomiteth
out her inhabitants — That the land spue not
you out also, as it spued out the nations before
you." Jon. ii. 10, "The fish vomited out
Jonah." This word is used in the Talmud,
which forbids a disciple ever to vomit in the
presence of his master; for, according to this
Rabinnical code of law, he who spits before
his master, is worthy of death. According to
Mr. d'Arvieux,§ the Arabians religiously ob
serve this custom to this day. Among them
no man ever spits before his superior, it would
be considered as treating them with disrespect
and contempt. The Chaldee paraphrast un
derstood this psalm in this sense, and rendered
the passage thus, because of the falsehood that

* Hierom, in Epist. 135.
f Hammond's Annotations on Ps. Ivi. 7.
1 Mag. Lex. Chaldaic. Thalm. et Rabbinicum Bux
torf. in verb, palteth.
§ La Roque Voyage dans la Palestine, p. 140.

is in their hands, spit them, or vomit them out.
Now, sir, would it be improper to apply this
verse to my explication, and to affirm, that
David here manifestly alludes to two of the
symptoms of an epilepsy, which he himself
had lately experienced? This holy man prays
to God that his enemies might be treated in a
manner which had some resemblance to the
illness they had caused him; that as he had
frothed and cast out his spittle, so God would
spit or vomit them out of his mouth; and as
he fell to the ground through their hands, so
they might be degraded and cast out. The
former image is used by an inspired writer,
Rev. iii. 16, "Because thou art lukewarm, I
will spue thee out of my mouth."

Perhaps, sir, you will think another obser
vation which I am going to make, not suffi
ciently solid. David says, while he is cele
brating the deliverance God had granted him,
Ps. xxxiv. 20, that " the Lord keepeth all the
bones of the righteous man, not one of them is
broken." It is not worth while to refute the
Jews on this article, for they quote these words
in proof of a little bone, which they call luz,
and which they place in the form of a small
almond at the bottom of the back bone. They
pretend that David had this bone in view;
that nothing, neither fire, nor water, nor time,
can destroy it, and that it is the germ of the
resurrection of the body. Probably it was
from this Jewish tradition that Peter Lom
bard,* the master of the sentences, derived his
little piece of flesh, which every man inherits
from the flesh of Adam, and which renders us
all corrupt, and on account of which we are
called the children of Adam. Much less will
I pretend to dispute the application which St.
John makes of this oracle to our Lord Jesus
Christ, of whom it was both predicted and
prefigured, that not one of his bones should be
broken, chap. 36; Exod. xii. 46; Numb. ix. 12.
Nothing hinders our taking this verse in its
literal sense. David here blesses his God for
watching so marvellously to prevent him, that
in spite of his violent epileptic fit, and of the
$.11, that might have broke all his bones,
especially as he was so hurt by falling against
the posts of the gate, as to receive marks or
scars in his flesh, yet not one of his bones was
broken.

For the rest, if any one should think proper
to take occasion, from this one convulsion fit,
to dispute the inspiration of the excellent psalms
of David, or only to diminish our esteem for
the works or the person of this prince, the
following considerations may set aside such a
frivolous objection.

1. As soon as the malady is over, the mind
recovers its freedom and firmness, and is pre
sently as well as before.

"2. Even supposing frequent attacks to en
feeble the mind, yet this would not effect David,
for he had only one fit.

3. Great men have been subject to this ill
ness, but they have not been the less esteemed
on that account; as for example a Julius
Cesar,f wno was ne^ by h*8 army in more than

* Pet. Lemb. lib. ii. Distinct. 30. N. p. m. 218.
Transmisit adam modicum quid de substantia sua in cor
pora siliorum, quando eos procrcavit, &c.

f Plutarch in Caesare. T. i. f. 715. Suidas in voce.

DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS.

135

admiration; Plotinus too, that celebrated Pla
tonic philosopher, to whom, after his death,
altars were erected in divers places.

4. Far from deriving from my explication a
consequence so unreasonable, we ought, on the
contrary, naturally to conclude, that there is a
good and wise Providence, which knows how
to deliver its children by means unthought of,
and even when their ruin seems certain. A
Christian, now afflicted with this sad disorder,
may find in our sentiment a solid ground of
consolation. The man after God's own heart
had an epileptic fit; but he was not the less

esteemed of God, and so a Christian may rea
son, believing himself to be beloved of God,
and an heir of his kingdom, though afflicted
all his days with this malady, provided he imi
tate the zeal and piety of David. I submit, sir,
all my conjectures to the penetration of your
judgment, and I have the honour to be, with
all imaginable respect,

Sir, Your most humble

And most obedient servant,

DUMONT.
ROTTERDAM,
September 2, 1725.

SERMONS

OF

REV. JAMES SAURIN,

TRANSLATED

BY THE REV. H. HUNTER, D. D.

VOL. II.— 18

PREFACE,

BY THE REV. HENRY HUNTER, D. D.

THE name of SAURIN, as a preacher and a
Scripture critic, is so well known, and so
highly respected, as to render any panegyric
or recommendation of mine altogether unne
cessary. His great work, entitled " Discourses
Historical, Critical, Theological, and Moral,
on the most memorable Events recorded in
the Old and New Testaments," is in the
hands of ajmost every Protestant Divine who
understands the French language. Of this the
first volume only has been given to the Eng
lish public, by a respectable layman, John
Chamberlayne, Esq., of the city of Westmin
ster, presently after the publication of the ori
ginal at the Hague, in 1723. Unhappily for
the world, Mr. Saurin did not Jive to accom
plish that arduous undertaking: 'his valuable
labours being interrupted by the stroke of
death, before he had quite finished the sixth
discourse of vol. iii., which contains the period
of Solomon's piety and prosperity. The work
was, however, very creditably continued and
completed by Messrs. Roques and De Beauso-
bre. A republication of Mr. Chamberlayne 's
volume, and a translation of the other five,
would be an important, and no doubt an accep
table addition to English literature.

The late Reverend Robert Robinson, of
Cambridge, has given a very good translation
of five volumes of the " Sermons" of " Sau
rin," selected from twelve, of which the origi
nal consists; to these he has prefixed " Me
moirs of the Reformation in France," and of
" Saurin's Life." This work has been so well
received all over Great Britain, that a third
large impression of it is already nearly exhaust
ed: a striking proof, surely, of the author's ex
traordinary merit as a Christian orator, espe
cially if it be considered that this approbation
is expressed in an age and a country daily en
riched with original displays of pulpit eloquence,
and whose taste is rendered fastidious by pro
fusion and variety of excellence.

But the public, it would appear, is still dis
posed to receive more of Mr. Saurin's Ser
mons, for I have been frequently and impor
tunately solicited to undertake the translation
of what remains: a request with which, I ac
knowledge, I felt no great reluctance to com

ply; being thoroughly convinced that no com
positions of the kind are more calculated to be
useful to mankind. By the reception given to
this volume I shall be enabled to determine
whether it is proper to desist, or to go on.

The attentive reader will readily perceive
that I have made the arrangement of the sub
jects part of my study. When I found any of
the links of my chain anticipated by my re
spectable predecessor in the works of transla
tion, I refer to it, that those who choose to read
in a series may be saved the trouble of tracing
it from volume to volume.

As the originals are much longer than the
generality of modern sermons, and as I sup
pose these may probably be adopted by fami
lies as part of their serious domestic reading,
I have taken the liberty to divide most of them
into two, and some into three parts, in the
view of relieving the exertion of the person
who reads, and the attention of the hearers:
introducing nothing of tny own, except some
times a few lines of recapitulation, where it
seemed necessary to connect the several mem
bers of the subject.

To one advantage only over my predeces
sor, do I presume to lay claim, congeniality of
sentiment with my author on certain points of
doctrine, of riles and ceremonies, of church dis
cipline, and some others, in which Mr. Robin
son differs from him. There must be many
passages, accordingly, which he disapproved,
while he translated; and some sermons he pro
bably omitted altogether, because they coin
cided not with his religious belief. Under this
disadvantage I did not labour in executing my
task; as I agree in almost every point with my
great original, and possibly translated with
peculiar satisfaction what Mr. Robinson had
reluctantly, or saw it his duty entirely to
leave out. His readers and mine will, un
doubtedly, exercise the same right of private
judgment, and, I trust, practise the same can
dour and forbearance which he and I thought
ourselves obliged by precept and by example
to recommend. H. H.

BETHNAL- GREEN ROAD,
24th June, 1796.

140

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

[SER. LXIX.

SERMON LXIX.

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

LUKE ii. 25 — 30.

•And behold there was a man in Jerusalem, whost
name was Simeon; and the same man was jus
and devout, waiting for the consolation of Is
rod: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. Jlni
it was revealed to him by the Holy Ghost, tha
he should not see death, before he had seen th(
Lord's Christ. Jlnd he came by the Spirit int
the temple: and when the parents brought in
the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom
of the law; then he took him up in his arms
and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettes
thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy sal
vation.

"Now let me die, since I have seen thy
face, because thou art yet alive," Gen. xlvi.
30. This was the exclamation of an affection
ate father; might I not have said, of a weakly
affectionate father, on a memorable occasion
in his life. If such an emotion savour not of
heroism, it is at least an effusion of nature.
Joseph had been the centre of a fond parent's
tenderest affections. Jacob had for more than
twenty years been impressed with the belief
that this dearly beloved son was devoured by
an evil beast. He displayed every token of
affliction that could be expressed by the pater
nal heart, on the loss of a child, a darling child,
thus cruelly torn from him. After so many years
of mourning, he is informed that his son is yet
alive, that he is exalted to the most eminent
state of power and splendour which the king
of Egypt could bestow; that he had sent to
bring his father down to him. Every instant
now appears ah age to the good old man, till
the period of their reunion arrives. Every
thing that retards the accomplishment of his
wishes seems to defeat it. He trembles to
think on the length of the way, on the dan
gers of such a journey, on his own debilitated
frame. He departs at length, he reaches the
desired haven: he beholds with his eyes the
endeared object of so many earnest prayers.
He feels himself in the embrace of his Joseph, he
feels his visage bedewed with the tears of filial
love. Joy deprives him of the powers of ut
terance, and with difficulty the faultering tongue
can pronounce the words which Moses, if I may
be allowed the expression, seems to have de
rived from the bowels of paternal tenderness:
" Now let me die, since I have seen thy face,
because thou art yet alive."

A greater than Jacob, my brethren, or ra
ther a greater than Joseph, is here. Simeon
had received from God the assurance of hav
ing his life prolonged till his eyes should see
the promised Messiah. On the accomplish
ment of that promise depended the solution of
these anxious inquiries, so interesting to the
wretched posterity of Adam: — Is there any
mitigation to be expected of that fatal denun
ciation, " in the day thou eatest of the fruit of
the tree of good and evil, thou shalt surely
die?" Gen. ii. 17. Did so many oracles, which
announce a Redeemer, proceed from God, or

from men? Is it possible that the love of God
should rise so high, as to immolate his own
Son in the room of the guilty? In a word, is
the expectation of Israel well founded, or is it
chimerical? The promise is at last fulfilled:
that divine infant at last appears, whom God
had " prepared before the face of all people, a
light to lighten the gentiles, and the glory of
Israel," Luke ii. 31, 32. Already has an an
gel of the Lord announced his advent to the
shepherds: already has a multitude of the hea
venly host made the air resound with these
triumphant strains, " glory to God in the high
est, and on earth peace, good will towards
men." Luke ii. 14. Already have the sages
of the east arrived to render him supreme
homage, as to their sovereign. What remain
ed to Simeon, after having seen the Saviour
of the world, but to take possession of the
long expected salvation? He accordingly takes
the child in his arms: his faith is now changed
into vision, and his hope into enjoyment, and
he in transport exclaims, " Lord, now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy sal
vation."

This devout rapture is to be the subject of
our present discourse, and its import we shall
attempt to unfold, after having made a few re
flections of a different kind, tending to eluci
date the text.

I. We are to make a few preliminary re
flections, for elucidating the text. And here
it is natural, in the first place, to inquire, who
this Simeon was, who acts such a distinguished
part, at this period of the gospel history? But
all that can be added to the narration of the
evangelist is merely a tissue of conjectural
traditions palpably false, or, at best, extremely
uncertain. Cardinal Baronius,* on the au
thority of some ancient doctors of the church,
insists that he must have been of the sacerdo
tal order. This they attempt to prove from
the words of the passage under review, " He
took the infant Jesus in his arms," as if to pre
sent him to the Lord; an idea not supported
by any one of the circumstances recorded in
the gospel. Certain modern doctors! believe
him to have been the son of the celebrated
Hillel, who was chief of the sect of the Phari
sees. They even go so far as to assert, that
he was the father of that Gamaliel at whose
feet Paul was brought up. With respect to his
condition, a variety of fables are retailed de
scriptive of his person; such as that he was
3lind,J and recovered his sight on receiving
our Saviour into his arms: and that other, of
biis being one of the interpreters of the Sep-
tuagint version;^ that having found many pas
sages which predicted that the Messiah was to
je born of a Virgin, he refused to translate
them; nay, that he substituted the term Woman
in place of Virgin, in translating the noted
irediction of Isaiah vii. 14: that having closed
lis tablets, on opening them to resume his
abour, he found the word Virgin miraculously
substituted in place of Woman; that he besought

* Annal. Eccles. Antv. 1612. A. C. 1. p. 58. torn. 1.

f Consult Lightfoot, torn. 2. Horse Hebr. in Luc. ii
25. p. 498. Rot. 1686.
Baronius ut supra.

$ Allatius de Eccl. Occid. Col. 1648. Niceph. Hist.
Eccl. lib. i. cap. 2. Paris, 1630.

SER. LXIX.]

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

God to grant him an explanation of this won
derful phenomenon, and his prayer was an
swered: once more;* that having seen in the
temple various women presenting their chil
dren, he had' distinguished the holy Virgin by
certain rays of light which surrounded her
person, on which he thus addressed the other
mothers: " Wherefore do you present these
children before the altar? Turn round, and
behold this one, who is more ancient than
Abraham." Fictions, of no higher authority
than what is farther related of him, namely,
that the Jews,j jealous of his talents and vir
tues, and, more especially, scandalized at the
testimony which he had borne to Jesus Christ,
had refused him the honours of sepulchre: that
his remains, after having reposed a long time
at Constantinople,! in a chapel dedicated by
James, denominated the Less, were conveyed
to Venice§ in the thirteenth century.

Dropping, then, legends of such doubtful
authority, let us satisfy ourselves with exhibit
ing Simeon under three authentic characters,
which while they lead us to an acquaintance
with the man himself, will give us an idea of
the state of the Jewish nation, at the era of
the Messiah's birth. The first respects the
faith of Simeon; " he waited for the consola
tion of Israel." The second respects his piety
and moral conduct; " he was just and devout."
The third respects his gifts and privileges; "he
was divinely inspired, and it was revealed to
him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see
death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ."

1. " He waited for the consolation of Israel,"
that is, for the Messiah. This phraseology was
adopted by the ancient Jews, and is still in use
among the modern. " The years of the con-
solation,"|| *s a usual expression employed by
them to denote the years of the Messiah, One of
their most solemn oaths is that which appeals to
the consolation: and one of their most common
formularies is to this effect; " So may I see the
consolation, as I have done such or such a
thing; so may I see the consolation, as my tes
timony is consistent with truth." The pro
phets themselves employ the same style: "Com
fort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God:
speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem," Isa. xl. 1.
" The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; be
cause the Lord hath anointed me to preach
good tidings unto the meek .... to proclaim

the acceptable year of the Lord; and

to comfort all that mourn," Isa. Ixi. 1, 2.
" Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and
break forth into singing, O mountains; for the
Lord hath comforted his people," Isa. xlix. 13.

It were easy to prove, that these are so many
oracular predictions, which the inspired authors
of the New Testament, the only infallible inter
preters of the Old, understood as descriptive of
the Messiah. And proofs would multiply upon
us without end, were we more particularly to
undertake to demonstrate, that the title of the
consolation is peculiarly adapted .to our Lord

* Baronius ut supra,

\ From a passage of St. Epiphanius misunderstood.
See Epiph. torn. 2. de Vit. Proph. p. 150. Paris, 1622.

} Codin, Orig. Const, p. 56. Lut. 1655.

6 Tillemont, Memoir. Eccles. torn. i. p. 448. Par,
1693.

U Lightfoot, in supra.

Jesus Christ: but however instructive such re
flections might be of themselves, they would
carry us too far from the present object of
pursuit.

We could only wish, that the faith of Simeon
might assist you in forming an idea of the state
of the Jewish church prior to the coming of
the Messiah. Believers, under that dispensa
tion, entertained the same expectation with
Simeon: like him they waited for " the conso
lation of Israel."

We by no means presume to affirm that their
ideas on this subject were exempted from pre
judice. We well know that they assigned to
most of the oracles, which announced a Re
deemer, a sense conformable to the colour of
their passions. Isaiah, who represented him
as "despised and rejected of men," Isa. liii. 3,
had, undoubtedly, a more just conception of
him than the sons of Zebedee adopted, Mark
x. 37, when they requested of him the most
distinguished honours of his kingdom. Daniel,
who predicted that " Messiah should be cut
off," Dan. ix. 26, entered, undoubtedly, much
more profoundly into the view of his coming
into the world, than Peter did, who having
heard him speak of the death which he was to
suffer, " began to rebuke him, saying, Be it
far from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee,"
Matt. xvi. 22; Job, who contemplated him by
the eye of faith, " as standing at the latter day
upon the earth," Job xix. 25, 26; and who
hoped to behold him eye to eye, even after
" worms should have destroyed his body,"
knew incomparably better the blessings which
he was to purchase for mankind, than those
grovelling spirits who expected from him tem
poral enjoyments merely. Even those of the
Jews whose understanding was most clearly
enlightened, had much less penetration into
the mystery of the cross than the meanest of
Christians, and according to the saying of Jesus
Christ, " He that is least in the kingdom of
heaven, is, in this respect, greater than John
Baptist," Matt. xi. 11, and then all the pro
phets; nevertheless they all lived in expectation
of a deliverer: they all considered him as the
centre of every divine grace: they all waited
for him as " the consolation of Israel." This
is the first character given us of Simeon.

2. He was just and devout. The epithet just
must not be taken in a literal and exact sense.
Beware how you give a lie to revelation, to
experience, to your own heart, whose concur
ring testimony evinces that " there is none
righteous" upon the earth, "rio not one;"
imagine not that Simeon by his virtues merited
the privilege of "seeing the Lord's Christ,"
and of partaking of the fruits of his incarnation.
The righteousness of Simeon consisted in the
efforts which he made to work righteousness:
his perfection, in the desire with which he was
animated to go on to perfection, and in the
regret which he felt that his attainments were
so inconsiderable. The sacrifices which he
made to God, derived all their value from the
mercy of that God who was the object of his
fear. Let this great principle of Christian
theology be deeply impressed on your minds:
lose sight of it, no not for a moment, and be con
stantly vigilant lest the impure doctrine of the
merit of good works find admission among you.

142

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

[SER. LXIX.

But wherefore suggest cautions to this effect?
Wherefore should these walls so frequently
resound with truths of this class? My brethren,
you have so effectually excluded, by your cold
ness in the performance of good works, the
doctrine of their merit, that there is little room
to entertain the apprehension of its ever finding
an establishment in the midst of us. And it is
an undeniable fact, that this error has gained
no partisans in our churches; at least, if there
be any, they have kept themselves invisible.
We have seen many persons who, under the
power of illusion, imagined they had fulfilled
the conditions upon which the promises of sal
vation are founded; but never did we find one
who advanced a plea of merit. But what we
have seen, and what we have cause every day
to deplore, and what is involving multitudes in
utter ruin, is our frequently deceiving ourselves
with the belief, that because righteousness and
the fear of God are not meritorious, they are
therefore unnecessary. What we have seen,
and what we have cause every day to deplore,
is the unhappy persuasion prevailing with
many who bear the Christian name, that be
cause the advent of the Messiah is a dispensa
tion of grace, it gives encouragement to licen
tiousness and corruption. Let us not employ
such ingenious pains to deceive ourselves. —
Multiply without end, ye " disputers of this
world," your questions and controversies, it
will never be in your power to prevent my
clearly discerning, in the doctrine of the gospel,
this twofold truth: on the one hand, that the
best preparation for receiving the reign of
grace, is that which Simeon made; " he was
just and devout, and he waited for the conso
lation of Israel." On the other hand, that the
most insurmountable obstacle which can be
opposed to this reign, is impiety and injustice.
" Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make
straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be exalted, and every moun
tain and hill shall be made low: and the crook
ed shall be made straight, and the rough places
plain, and all flesh shall see the salvation of
God," Isa. xl. 3; Matt. iii. 3; Luke iii. 6. This
was the voice of the forerunner of Jesus Christ,
and wherein did he make this preparation to
consist? The preparation of him who had " two
coats" was to " impart to him who had none,"
Luke iii. 11. The preparation of him who
had meat was to act in like manner. That of
the publicans was to " exact no more than that
which was appointed them," ver 13. That
of the soldier was to "do violence to no man,
to accuse no one falsely, and to be content with
his wages," ver. 14. The preparation of all
was to " bring forth fruits worthy of repent
ance," ver. 8. Without these, the reign of
grace was the reign of wrath: without these,
" the axe was already laid unto the root of the
tree; and every tree which brought not forth
good fruit was to be hewn down, and cast into
the fire," ver. 9; and this Messiah, this Re
deemer of mankind, was to come with " his
fan in his hand, thoroughly to purge his floor;
to gather the wheat into his garner; but to
burn the chaff with fire unquenchable," ver. IT.
Ah! if at this period of the gospel dispensa
tion, when we are exercising, in some manner,
the functions of John Baptist, if in these days

wherein we come to announce the revival of
the reign of Jesus Christ in the midst of us, by
the celebration of his incarnation and birth; by
the commemoration which we are to make
next Lord's day in the sacrament of the supper:
if at this season, when we are crying aloud to
you in the words of St. John, " prepare ye the
way of the Lord:" should you with the multi
tudes who attended his ministry, inquire, say
ing, " and what shall we do?" We would
reply, wait for "the consolation of Israel," as
Simeon waited for it: " bring forth fruits worthy
of repentance."

" Prepare the way of the Lord," ye great
ones of the earth; lead the way in a procession
of penitents, as the king of Nineveh did, when
the preaching of Jonah thundered impending
destruction in his ears, Jon. iii. 4. 9. " Hum
ble yourselves under the mighty hand of God,"
1 Pet. v. 6, "by whom kings reign, and princes
decree justice," Prov. viii. 15. Employ the
power with which Providence has intrusted
you, not in a vain display of furniture more
magnificent, or of equipages more splendid;
not by assuming a deportment more lofty and
intimidating; but in curbing bold and insolent
vice; but in maintaining the cause of truth and
justice; but in wiping away the tears of the
widow and the orphan; but in rewarding ser
vices rendered to the state; but in procuring
respect to the solemn institutions of religion;
but in preventing the circulation of indecent
and corruptive publications; and, as far as in
you lies, in levelling to the ground that mon
ster infidelity, which is rearing its daring fore
head in the midst of you.

" Prepare the way of the Lord," ye pastors
of the flock. Distinguish yourselves from pri
vate individuals, not only by the habit which
you wear, and by the functions which you dis
charge; but by your zeal for the church of
Christ; by your unshaken firmness and forti
tude in opposing those who impudently trans
gress; but by preserving a scrupulous distance
from every thing characteristic rather of the
slaves of this world, than of the ministers of
the living God.

"Prepare ye the way of the Lord," profess
ing Christians. Celebrate your solemn feasts,
not only by frequenting our religious assem
blies, but by a holy abstinence from those se
cret abominations, and those public scandalous
practices which have so long inflamed the
wrath of heaven against us; -which even now
are scattering the seeds of discord through
these provinces; which are draining the re
sources of our country, which are tarnishing
her glory, which present to our eyes, in a low
ering futurity, vicissitudes still more calami
tous and more deeply ensanguined than those
which have already cost us so many tears, and
so much blood.

This, this is the only effectual method of
waiting for deliverance and redemption. Far
removed from us be those frivolous terrors,
which would suggest, that to be subjected to
the yoke of Jesus Christ, is to derogate from
his merits! And let us not deceive ourselves;
there is not a single particular in the system of
the gospel; there is not a single article of Chris
tian theology, but what preaches terror, if we
are destitute of that righteousness, and of that

SER. LXIX.]

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

143

fear of God with which Simeon " waited for I have the commencement of the latter days
the consolation of Israel." In order to our j Here we behold the prophetic illumination re-
having an interest in the pardoning mercy I appearing in all its lustre. Here the hallowed
which the Messiah has purchased for us, we j fire is rekindling, and celestial revelations en-
m,lct « f^ar dnA » s>a Simnrm Hi/I- wro mnot hfi lighten a dark world. These exalted.privileges

are communicated first to Zacharias, who be
holds an angel of the Lord " standing on the
right side of the altar- of incense," Luke i. 11.
They are next bestowed on the blessed Virgin,
whom the angel thus addresses, " Hail thou
that art highly favoured, the Lord is with

must " fear God," as Simeon did; we must be
just as he was; we must hold sin in detestation;
we must be " of a poor and of a contrite spirit,"
Isa. Ixvi. 2, because of it; we must " cease to
do evU, and learn to do well," Isa. i. 16, 17.
In order to our having an interest in sanctify
ing grace and in the spirit of regeneration,
communicated to us by the Messiah, we must
"fear God" as did Simeon; we must be just
like him, we must love wisdom; we must " ask
it of God .... nothing wavering," James i.
5, 6; or, as the passage of St. James to which
I refer might be rendered, not halting, or hesi
tating between the choice of wisdom and folly;
we must not be like "a wave of the sea,"
which seems to be making a movement to
wards the shore, but anon returns with impetu
osity into the gulf from which it issued.

Farther, in order to our having a knowledge
of the doctrines which were taught by the
Messiah, we must " fear God" as did Simeon,
we must be just like him; for "the secret of
the Lord is with them that fear him; and he
will show them his covenant," Ps. xxv. 14,
and " if any man will do his will, he shall
know of the doctrine whether it be of God, or
whether I speak of myself," John vii. 17. In
order to our having an interest in the promises
of the glory to be revealed, which are made to
us by the Messiah, we must " fear God" as did
Simeon, we must be just like him, for "with
out holiness no man shall see the Lord," Heb.
xii. 14, and "having these promises, let us
cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh
and of the spirit," 2 Cor. vii. 1. If we would
attain the assurance of salvation, we must
"fear God," as did Simeon, we must be just
like him: " Let him that thinketh he standeth,
take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12, and "if
God spared not the natural branches, take
heed lest he also spare not thee," Rom. xi. 21.

3. Finally, we are informed by the evange
list, that " the Holy Ghost was upon Simeon;
and it was revealed to him by the Holy Ghost,
that he should not see death, before he had
seen the Lord's Christ."

On this particular, I shall confine myself to
a single reflection. It supplies us with an ex
plication of several ancient oracles, and parti
cularly that of the prophet: " And it shall
come to pass afterward, that I will pour out
my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and
your daughters shall prophecy, your old men
shall dream dreams, your young men shall see
visions," Joel ii. 28. The Jews themselves
acknowledge,* that the spirit of prophecy was
one of the prerogatives, which had been denied
to the second temple. This gift seems to have
expired with Malachi. For an uninterrupted
series of more than four hundred years no pro
phet had arisen. This high privilege was not
to be restored to the church till the latter days
should come; and conformably to the style of
the Old Testament, the latter days denote the
dispensation of the Messiah. Here then, we

* Talmud Hieros. Taanilb, fol. vi. 1. Babylon. Joma,
fol. xxi. 2.

thee: blessed art thou among women," ver. 28.
They are extended even to the shepherdj, to
whom another angel announces the birth of
the Saviour of the world, and who " suddenly
hear a multitude of the heavenly host, praising
God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good-will towards men,"
Luke ii. 13, 14. They are poured down upon
Simeon; and we shall presently behold the
whole Christian church inundated with an
overflowing flood of divine irradiation. Let
this suffice as to the character of Simeon.

II. We are to attempt to unfold the import
of the devout rapture which he felt. And
here let us give undivided attention to the ob
ject before us, and let every power of thought
be applied to discover, and to display, the
emotions by which this holy man of God wag
then animated. He1 takes Jesus Christ in his
arms: he blesses God, and says, " Lord, now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, ac
cording to thy word; for mine eyes have seen
thy salvation." " Lettest thou thy servant de
part:" the Greek phrase literally rendered, is,
thou unloosest, or settest free thy servant. The
sense of the expression cannot, in my appre
hension, be disputed in this place. To un
loose, in the writings of certain profane au
thors, and the meaning is the same in our text,
signifies that act of Deity which separates the
soul from the body. Thou liber atest thy servant
in peace, that is, thou permittest thy servant to
die in peace. This object which strikes the
eye of Simeon, is to him a complete security
against the terrors of death. Wherefore should
he wish to live longer in this world? Could it
be to behold some wonderful event, or to ac
quire some valuable possession? But his whole
soul is rapt in admiration of the object with
which his eyes are feasted; the delight he feels
in contemplating the Redeemer, " the Lord's
Christ," absorbs every faculty. Could the fear
of the punishment of sin suggest a wish to live
longer? He holds in his arms the victim which
is going to be offered up to divine justice.
Could he desire longer life from any doubt he
entertained respecting the doctrine of a life to
come? He is at the very source of life, and
needs only to be released from a mortal body,
to arrive at immortality. Three sources of
meditation, well worthy, I am bold to say, of
all the attention you are able to bestow.

1. The desire of beholding some wonderful
and interesting event, is one of the most usual
causes of attachment to life. There are cer
tain fixed points, in which all our hopes seem
to be concentrated. Nothing is more common
among men, even among those whose charac
ter as Christians is the least liable to suspicion,
than to say, could I but live to see such and
such an event take place, I should die content:

144

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

[SBR. LXIX.

could I but live to see that adversary of the
church confounded: could I but live to see that
mystery of Providence unfolded: could I but
live to see Zion arise out of her ruins, and the
chains of her bondmen broken asunder: could
I but live to see my son attain such and such a
period. Such emotions are not in every case
to be condemned as unlawful; but how much
do they frequently savour of human infirmity!
Let it be our study to die in peace with God,
and we shall be disposed to die, whenever it
shall please him, who has sent us into the
world, to call us out of it again.

Death draws aside the curtain, which con
ceals from our eyes what is most worthy of our
regard, of our desire, of our admiration. If
thou diest in a state of reconciliation with God,
thine eyes shall behold events infinitely more
interesting and important than all those which
can suggest a wish to continue longer in this
world. Thou shalt behold something unspeaka
bly greater than the solution of some particular
mystery of Providence: thou shalt discern a uni
versal light, which shall dispel all thy doubts, re
solve all thy difficulties, put to flight all thy dark
ness. Thou shalt behold something incompa
rably surpassing the confusion of those tyrants,
whose prosperity astonishes and offends thee:
thou shalt behold Jesus at the right hand of
his Father, holding " a rod of iron," ready to
" dash in pieces, like a potter's vessel," Ps. ii.
9, all those who dare oppose his empire. Thou
shalt behold something incomparably more
sublime than the dust of Zion reanimated:
thou shalt behold the "new Jerusalem," of
which " God and the Lamb," are the sun and
temple, Rev. xxi. 2. 22, 23. Thou shalt be
hold something incomparably more interesting
than the chains of the bondmen broken asun
der: thou shalt behold the souls of a thousand
martyrs invested with white robes, Rev. vi. 11,
because they fought under the banner of the
cross: thou shalt hear them crying one to an
other; " Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipo
tent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and
give honour to him; for the marriage of the
Lamb is come, and his wife hath made hers^f
ready," Rev. xix. 6, 7. Thou shalt behold
something incomparably more interesting than
the establishment of that son, the object of so
many tender affections: thou shalt behold those
multitudes of glorified saints who are eternally
to partake with thee in the felicity of the ever
blessed God: thine eyes shall behold that ado
rable face, the looks of which absorb, if I may
use the expression, all those of the creature.

Let it be admitted, at the same time, that if
ever any one could be justified in expressing a
wish to have the hour of death deferred, it
was in the case of those believers, who lived
at the period when the Messiah was expected.
This was the case with Simeon. Brought up
under an economy in which every thing was
mysterious and emblematical, he is justifiable,
should he have expressed a wish to see the elu
cidation of all these sacred enigmas. When a
prince is expected to visit one of our cities;
when we behold the sumptuous equipages by
which he is preceded, the train of messengers
who announce his approach; palaces decorated,
and triumphal arches reared, for his reception:
does not all this excite a desire of obtaining a

nearer view of the person of whom so lofly an
idea is conveyed from preparations so magnifi
cent11 All these preparations, however, are in
many cases, not so much the badges of the real
greatness of the personage whom they an
nounce, as of his vanity. It has oftener than
once been felt, that the object of the least im
portance in a splendid procession, was the very
man who acted as the hero of it. But what
could the Levitical dispensation furnish, to
convey an idea of the Messiah, but what fell
infinitely short of the Messiah himself?

Simeon at length beholds this Messiah, so
eagerly expected through so many ages. Si
meon, more highly favoured than Jacob, who,
on his dying bed exclaimed, " I have waited for
thy salvation, O Lord!" Gen. xlix. 8. Simeon
exulting, says, " Lord, I have seen thy salva
tion:" more highly favoured than so many
kings, and so many prophets, who desired to
see the Redeemer, but did not see him, Luke
xi. 24, more highly privileged than so many
believers of former ages, who saw only the
promises of him "afar off, and embraced
them," Heb. xi. 13, he receives the effect of
those promises; he contemplates, not afar off,
but nigh, "the star which was to come out of
Jacob," Numb. xxiv. 17, he beholds the ac
complishment of the prophecies, " Christ the
end of the law for righteousness to every one
that believeth," Rom. x. 4, the ark, the She-
chinah, the habitation of the Deity in his tem-

Ele, he in whom " all the fulness of the God-
ead dwelleth bodily," Col. ii. 9, he sees the
manna, and more than the manna, for "your
fathers did eat manna in the wilderness and are
dead," John vi. 58, but, "wfc^so eateth my
flesh and drinketh my blood, hatti eternal life,"
ver. 54. " Father of day," exclaimed a Pagan
prince, " thou radiant Sun, I thank thee that
before I leave the world, I have had the felicity
of seeing Cornelius Scipio in my kingdom and
palace; now I have lived as long as I can de
sire." It is the very emotion with which Si
meon is animated: he has lived long enough,
because he has seen " the salvation of God."
Let the Roman republic henceforth extend her
empire, or let its limits be contracted; let the
great questions revolving in the recesses of
cabinets be determined this way or that; let the
globe subsist a few ages longer, or crumble im
mediately into dust; Simeon has no desire to
see any thing farther: " Lord, now lettest thou
thy servant depart in peace, according to thy
word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."
Secondly, Simeon remains no longer at
tached to life from terror of the punishment of
sin after death. " The sting of death is sin;"
that sting so painfully acute to all mankind, is
peculiarly so to the aged. An old man has
rendered himself responsible for all the stations
which he occupied, for all the relations which
he formed in social life, and in the church.
And these in general, become so many sources
of remorse. Generally speaking, it is not se
paration from the world merely which renders
death an object of horror; it is the idea of the
account which must be given in, when we leave
it. If nothing else were at stake, but merely
to prepare for removing out of the world, a
small degree of reflection, a little philosophy, a
little fortitude, might answer the purpose.

SER. LXIX.]

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

145

What is the amount of human life, especially
to a man arrived at a certain period of existence?
What delight can an old man find in society,
after his memory is decayed, after his senses
are blunted, after the fire of imagination is ex
tinguished, when he is from day to day losing
one faculty after another, when he is reduced
so low as to be the object of forbearance at
most, if not that of universal disgust and dere
liction? But the idea of fourscore years passed
in hostility against God, but the idea of a thou
sand crimes starting into light, and calling for
vengeance; by their number and their atrocity
exciting " a fearful looking for of judgment"—
this, this presents a just ground of terror and
astonishment.

But all such terrors disappear in the eyes of
Simeon; he knows the end for which this child
was born, whom he now holds in his arms: he
directs his eyes beyond the cradle, to his cross;
by means of the prophetic illumination which
was upon him, he perceives this Christ of God
*' making his soul an offering for sin," Isa. liii.
10. He expects not, as did his worldly-minded
countrymen, a temporal kingdom; he forms far
juster ideas of the glory of the Messiah; he con
templates him "spoiling principalities and pow
ers, making a show of them openly, nailing
them to his cross," Col. ii. 15. Let us not be
accused of having derived these ideas from the
schools, and from our courses of theological
study: no, we deduce this all important truth
immediately from the substance of the gospel.
Ponder seriously, I beseech you, what Simeon
himself says to Mary, as he showed to her the
infant Jesus: " Behold this child is set for the
falling and rising again of many in Israel; and
for a sign which shall be spoken against: yea,
a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also,"
Luke ii. 34, 35.

What could be meant by that sword with
which the mother of our Lord was to have her
" soul pierced through?" That anguish, un
doubtedly, which she should undergo, on seeing
her Son nailed to a cross. What an object for
a mother's eye! Who among you, my brethren,
has concentrated every anxious care, every ten
der affection on one darling object, say a be
loved child, whom he fondly looks to, as his
consolation in adversity, as the glory of his
family, as the support of his feeble old age?
Let him be supposed to feel what no power of
language is able to express: let him put himself
in the place of Mary, let that beloved child be
supposed in the place of Jesus Christ: faint
image still of the conflict which nature is pre
paring for that tender mother: feeble com
mentary on the words of Simeon to Mary,
"yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own
soul also." Mary must lose that son whose
birth was announced to her by an angel from
heaven; that Son on whose advent the celestial
hosts descended to congratulate the listening
earth; that Son whom so many perfections,
whom such ardour of charity, whom benefits so
innumerable should have for ever endeared to
mankind: already she represents to herself that
frightful solitude, that state of universal deser
tion in which the soul finds itself, when, having
been bereaved of all that it held dear, it feels
as if the whole world were dead, as if nothing
else remained in the vast universe, as if every

VOL. II.— 19

thing that communicated motion and life had
been annihilated.

And through what a path was she to behold
this Son departing out of the world? By a spe
cies of martyrdom, the bare idea of which scares
the imagination. She beholds those bountiful
hands which had so frequently fed the hungry,
which had performed so many miracles of mer
cy, pierced through with nails: she beholds that
royal head, which would have shed lustre on
the diadem of the universe, crowned with
thorns, and that arm, destined to wield the
sceptre of the world, bearing a reed, the emblem
of mock-majesty; she beholds that temple in
which " dwelleth all the fulness of the godhead
bodily," Col. ii. 9, with all his wisdom, with all
his illumination, with all his justice, with all
his mercy, with all the perfections which enter
into the notion of the supreme Being; she be
holds it assaulted with a profane hatchet, and
an impious spear: she hears the voices of the
children of Edom crying aloud, concerning this
august habitation of the Most High, " Rase it,
rase it, even to the foundation thereof."

But if even then, while she beholds Jesus
expiring, she could have been permitted to ap'-
proach him, to comfort him, to collect the last
sigh of that departing spirit! Could she but
have embraced that dearly beloved Son, to
bathe him with her tears, and bid him a last
farewell! Could she but for a few moments
have stopped that precious fluid draining off in
copious streams, and consuming the sad remains
of exhausted nature! Could she but have been
permitted to support that sacred, sinking head,
and to pour balm into his wounds! But she
must submit to the hand of violence: she too is
borne down by " the power of darkness," Luke
xxii. 53. She has nothing to present to the
expiring sufferer but unavailing solicitude, and
fruitless tears: " a sword shall pierce through
thy own soul also:" Simeon understood, then,
the mystery of the cross: he looked to the effi
cacy of that blood which was to be shed by the
Redeemer whom he now held in his arms, and
under that holy impression exclaims, "Lord,
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen
thy salvation."

3. Finally, Simeon no longer feels-an attach
ment to this world, from any doubt or suspicion
he entertained respecting the doctrine of a life
to come. He is now at the very fountain of
life, and all that now remains is to be set free
from a mortal body, in order to attain immor
tality. We may deduce, from the preparations
of grace, a conclusion nearly similar to that
which we draw from the preparations of nature,
in order to establish the doctrine of a future
state of eternal felicity. How magnificent are
the preparations which nature makes! What
glory do they promise after death! The author
of our being has endowed the human soul with
an unbounded capacity of advancing from
knowledge to knowledge, from sensation to
sensation. I make free here to borrow the
thought of an illustrious modern author:* "A
perpetual circulation," says he, " of the same
objects, were they subject to no other incon
venience, would be sufficient to give us a dis-

Mentor, torn. iii. Disc. cxli. p. 340.

146

THE SONG OF SIMEON.

[SER. LXIX.

gust of the world. When a man has beheld
frequently reiterated vicissitudes of day and
night, of summer and winter, of spring and au
tumn; in a word, of the different appearances
of nature, what is there here below capable of
satisfying the mind? I am well awasp," adds
he, "how brilliant, how magnificent this spec
tacle is, I know how possible it is to indulge in
it with a steady and increasing delight; but I
'likewise know that, at length, the continual
recurrence of the same images cloys the ima
gination, which is eagerly looking forward to
the removal of the curtain, that it may con
template new scenes, of which it can catch only
a confused glimpse in the dark perspective of
futurity. Death, in this point of view, is a
transition merely from one scene of enjoyment
to another. If present objects fatigue and ex
cite disgust, it is only in order to prepare the
soul for enjoying, more exquisitely, pleasures
of a different nature, ever new, and ever satis-

The conclusion deducible from the prepara
tions of nature, may likewise be derived from
the preparations of grace. Let us not lose sight
.of our leading object. How magnificent had
the preparations of grace appeared in the eyes
of Simeon! This we have already hinted: the
whole of the Levitical dispensation consisted of
preparations for the appearance of the Messiah;
if we form a judgment of the blessings which
he was to bestow upon the human race, from
the representations given us of him, it is im
possible to refrain from drawing this conclusion.
That the Messiah was to give unbounded scope
to the desires of the heart of man, was to com
municate to him that unspeakable felicity, for
the enjoyment of which nature had already
prepared him, but which nature had not the
power to bestow. There, I mean in the Le
vitical dispensation, you found the shadows
which retraced the Messiah; there you found
types which represented him; there oracles
which predicted him; there an exhibition in
which were displayed his riches, his pomp, his
magnificence; there you heard the prophets
crying aloud: " Drop down, ye heavens, from
above, and let the skies pour down righteous
ness: let the earth open, and let them bring
forth salvation; and let righteousness spring up
together," Isa. xlv. 8. " For unto us a Child
is born, unto us a Son is given, and the govern
ment shall be upon his shoulder; and his name
shall be called, Wonderful, Counsellor, The
mighty God, The everlasting Father, The
Prince of Peace," Isa. ix. 6. "Lift up your
eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth
beneath: for the heavens shall vanish away like
smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a gar
ment, and they that dwell therein shall die in
like manner; but my salvation shall be for ever,
and my righteousness shall not be abolished,"
Isa. li. 6.

Now, what state of felicity could possibly
correspond to conceptions raised so high by pre
parations of such mighty import? What!
amount to no more than that which the Mes
siah bestows in this world? What! no more
than to frequent these temples? What! no
more than to raise these sacred eongs of praise:
to celebrate our solemn feasts: to eat a little
bread, and to drink a little wine at the com

munion table! And then to die? And then to
exist no more? And can this be all that salva
tion which the earth was to bring forth? And
can this be all that righteousness which the skies
were to pour doion? And can this be the dew
which the heavens were to drop down from above?
And can this be the whole amount of the
achievements of that Counsellor, of that Won
derful one, of that Prince of Peace, of that Fa
ther of Eternity? " Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace, according to thy word,
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Good
Simeon, what meaning do you intend to convey
by these words? Into what peace art thou wish
ing henceforth to depart, if these eyes, which
behold the Messiah, are going to be doomed to
the darkness of an eternal night' If these
hands, which are privileged to hold, and to
embrace him, are going to become a prey to
worms? And if that life which thou wast en
joying before thy Redeemer appeared, is going
to be rent from thee, because he is already come?

Ah! my brethren, how widely different are
the ideas which this holy man of God enter
tained! " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace." Wherefore now? Because
now I know, from the accomplishment of thy
promise, what was before a matter of presump
tion only, namely, that my soul is not a mere
modification of matter, and a result of the
arrangement, and of the harmony of my organs:
because I am now convinced, that this soul of
mine, on being separated from the body, shall
not become a forlorn wanderer in a strange and
solitary land: because now I no longer entertain
any doubt respecting my own immortality, and
because I hold in my arms him who has pur
chased it, and who bestows it upon me: because
to see Jesus Christ, and to die, is the highest
blessedness that can be conferred on a mortal
creature.

Permit me, my beloved brethren, to repeat
my words, and with them to finish this dis
course: to see Jesus Christ, and to die, is the
highest blessedness that can be conferred on a
mortal creature. Enjoy, my friends, enjoy the
felicity which the Saviour bestows upon you,
during the course of a transitory life: gratify,
as you this day turn a wondering eye to the
manger in which this divine Saviour lies, and
as you celebrate the memory of his incarnation,
gratify the taste which you have for the great
and the marvellous: and cry out with an en
raptured apostle, " Without controversy, great
is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest
in the flesh," 1 Tim. iii. 16. Gratify, as in
the retirement of the closet you devote your
selves to the study of the doctrine of this Jesus,
gratify the desire you feel to learn and to know:
draw constant supplies of light and truth from
those " treasures of wisdom and knowledge,'
Col. ii. 3, which he opens to you in his gospel.
Gratify, as you receive, next Lord's day, the
effusions of his love, gratify the propensity
which naturally disposes you to love him. Let
every power of the soul expand on hearing the
tender expressions which he addresses to you
in the sacrament of the supper: " Come unto
me, all ye that labour and are heaven laden,
md I will give you rest," Matt. xi. 28. "Be
hold I stand at the door and knock; if any man
hear my voice, and open the door, I will come

SER. LXX.]

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS, &c.

14?

in to him, and will sup with him, and he with
me," Rev. Hi. 20.

But after all, it is not during the course of a
transitory life, at least it is not while you con
sider death as still remote, that you are capable
of knowing the pleasure there is in being a
Christian. No, it is neither in the retirement
of the closet, nor seated at the table of the
Lord: it is not in your solemn feasts, that you
are capable of relishing the sweetness which is
to be found in beholding Jesus Christ, in em
bracing him, in believing on him: it is in the
last moments of life; it is when stretched on a
death-bed. Till then, your passions will some
times call it in question, whether the man of
the world does not actually enjoy more hap
piness than the Christian; whether the com
merce of society, whether spectacles, plays, the
splendour of a court, do not confer more real
pleasure than that which flows from commu
nion with Jesus Christ.

But when you shall find yourselves, like
Simeon, in a state of universal dereliction; but
when you shall behold nothing around you save
unavailing solicitudes, save ineffectual medi
cines, save fruitless tears, then you will know
what the religion of Jesus Christ is; then, my
brethren, you will taste the delight of being a
Christian; then you will feel all the powerful
attraction of that peace which is mentioned in
the text: " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace, according to thy word, for
mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

May these ideas of the Christian religion at
tach us inviolably unto it. Let us, with Simeon,
embrace the Saviour of the world; let us, with
the wise men of the East, present unto him our
gold, and frankincense, and myrrh: or rather,
let us present unto him hearts penetrated with
admiration, with gratitude, with love. Yes,
divine infant, desire of all nations, glory of
Israel, Saviour of mankind! divine infant, whom
so many oracles have predicted, whom so many
prophets have announced, whom so many types
have represented, and whose radiant day so
many kings and prophets were desirous to be
hold: my faith pierces through all those veils
which overspread and conceal thee; I behold, in
the person of a creature feeble and humbled, my
God, and my Redeemer: I contemplate thee
not only as born a few days ago at Bethlehem
of Judah, but subsisting " before the mountains
were brought forth, before the earth was form
ed, even from everlasting to everlasting," Ps.
xc. 2. I behold thee not only lying in a man
ger, wrapped in swaddling cloths, but I behold
thee seated on a throne of glory, " highly ex
alted," having " a name that is above every
name," adored by angels and seraphim, en
circled with rays of divinity.

Every power of my understanding shall
henceforth be devoted to the knowledge of
thee: it shall be my constant endeavour to
please thee, my supreme delight to possess
thee; and it shall be my noblest ambition to
prostrate myself one day before thy throne,
and to sing with the innumerable multitudes
of the redeemed of every nation, and people,
and tongue: " Unto him who sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb, be honour and
glory, and power, for ever and ever. Amen."

SERMON LXX.

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS
TO HIS DISCIPLES.

JOHN xiv. xv. xvi.

Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in Gorf,
believe also in me,* &fc.

WE begin, this morning, with explaining to
you the texts which refer to our blessed
Saviour's passion. If the knowledge of the
Christian be all reducible to this, "to know
Jesus Christ, and him crucified," 1 Cor. ii. 2,
it is impossible to fix your eyes too frequently
on the mysteries of the cross. Very few dis
courses, accordingly, are addressed to you, in
which these great objects are not brought for
ward to view. Nay, more; it is the pleasure
of this church, that, at certain stated seasons,
the doctrine of the cross, to the exclusion of
every other, should be the subject of our
preaching: that all the circumstances attend
ing it should be detailed, and every view of it
displayed. But whatever powers may be ap
plied to the execution of this work, it cannot
possibly be accomplished within the space of a
few weeks. We have especially had to lament
that our Saviour's last address to his disciples
should be omitted: I mean the discourse which
he addressed to them, a little while before he
retired into the garden of Gethsemane, and
which St. John has preserved to us in the xiv.
xv. and xvi. chapters of his gospel. This part
of the history of the passion is, unquestionably,
one of the most tender and most interesting.
We propose to make it pass in review before
you this day, as far as the bounds prescribed to
us will permit.

Were it proper to make the place where I
stand a vehicle for communications of this kind,
I am ready ingenuously to acknowledge, that a
particular circumstance determined my choice
on this occasion. A few days only have elapsed
since I was called to be witness of the dying
agonies of a valuable minister,! whom Provi
dence has just removed from the superintend
ence of a neighbouring church. God was
pleased to visit him for some months past, if
we may presume to speak so, with a " tempta
tion," more than " is common to man," 1 Cor.
x. 13; but he granted him a fortitude more
than human to support it. I was filled with
astonishment at the violence of his sufferings-
and still more at the patience with which he
endured them; I could not help expressing a
wish to know, what particular article of reli
gion had contributed the most to produce in
him that prodigy of resolution: "Have you
ever paid a close attention, my dear brother,"
said he to me, "to the last address of Jesus
Christ to his disciples? My God," exclaimed
he, " what charity! what tenderness! but above
all, what an inexhaustible source of consola
tion in the extremity of distress!" His words

* Those who wish to derive benefit from the following
discourse, must previously peruse, with attention, the xi?
xv. and jrvi. chapters of John's gospel.

f Mr. Begnon, pastor of the church at Leyden.

148

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS

LXX.

filled me with astonishment: my thoughts were
immediately turned towards you, my dearly
beloved brethren; and I said within myself, I
must furnish my hearers with this powerful
defence against suffering and death. I enter
this day on the execution of my design. Con
descend to concur with me in it. Come and
meditate on the last expressions which fell from
the lips of a dying Saviour; let us penetrate
into the very centre of that heart which the
sacred flame of charity animated.

I must proceed on the supposition that your
minds are impressed with the subject of the
three chapters of which I am going to attempt
an analysis. The great object which our Lord
proposes to himself, in this address, is to fortify
his disciples against the temptations to which
they were about to be exposed. And, in order
to reduce our reflections to distinct classes,
Jesus Christ means to fortify his disciples,

I. Against the offence of his cross.

II. Against the persecution which his doc
trine was going to excite.

III. Against forgetfulness of his precepts.

IV. Against sorrow for his absence.

I. First, Jesus Christ means to fortify his
disciples against the offence of the cross. A
man must be a mere novice in the history of
the gospel if he know not how extremely con
fused their ideas were with respect to the mys
tery of redemption. Those who ascribe to them
superior illumination are mistaken, both in the
principle, and in the consequences which they
deduce from it. Their principle is, that the
Jewish church was perfectly well acquainted
with the whole mystery of the cross; an opinion
supported by no historical monument what
ever.

But granting we were to admit this principle,
we must of necessity resist the consequences
deduced from it, with respect to the apostles.
It is very possible to have a clouded under
standing amidst a luminous dispensation, and
to grovel in ignorance be the age ever so en
lightened. Had we a mind to demonstrate to
what a degree the age in which we live sur
passes those which preceded it, whether irl
physical discovery, or in metaphysical and
theological speculation, would we go to collect
our proofs among our common mechanics, or
from among the fishermen who inhabit our sea
ports?

Let us call to remembrance the indiscreet
zeal of Peter, when Jesus Christ declared to
him, " How he must go unto Jerusalem, and
suffer many things— and be killed," Matt. xvi.
21, "Be it far from thee, Lord: this shall not
be unto thee,'1 ver. 22. Recollect the reply
which Jesus made to that disciple: " Get thee
behind me, Satan: thou art an offence to me,"
ver. 23. Recollect farther the question which
the apostles put to their master some time be
fore his ascension: " Lord, Wilt thou at this
time restore again the kingdom to Israel?" Acts
i. 6. Above all, recollect the conversation
which passed between certain of them imme
diately after his resurrection: " we trusted that
it had been he which should have redeemed
Israel: and besides all this, to-day is the third
day since these things were done," Luke xxiv.
21. " You trusted that it had been he which
should have redeemed Israel!" Well! and

wherefore trust no longer? Whence then arises
this diffidence? Wherein has his promise failed?
What oracle of the prophets has he neglected
to fulfil? " O fools, and slow of heart to believe
all that the prophets have spoken! Ought not
Christ to have suffered these things, and to
enter into his glory?" ver. 25, 26.

Taking it for granted, then, that the apos
tles had but confused ideas of the mystery of
the cross, what offence must they not have
taken when they were called to be witnesses of
that fearful spectacle! From our being ac
customed to hear the punishment of crucifixion
spoken of in terms of high dignity, we lose
sight of what was ignominious and humiliat
ing in it. Represent to yourself a man whom
you had made the centre, the fixed point of all
your hopes. Represent to yourself a man, a
God-man, to whom you had been accustomed
to yield all the homage of adoration: repre
sent to yourself this divine personage, whom
you believed to have descended from heaven
to remedy the woes of mankind; to remove
your private distresses; to re-establish your
credit, and to restore to your country all its
splendour and all its importance: represent to
yourself this divine personage bound by the
hands of an insolent rabble; dragged along
from one tribunal to another; condemned as a
felon, and nailed to a tree. Can this be that
Messiah, into whose hand God was to put a
" rod of iron to break the nations, and to dash
them in pieces like a potter's vessel?" Ps. ii. 9.
Can this be that Messiah who should "have
dominion from sea to sea, and from the river
unto the ends of the earth?" Ps. Ixxii. 8. Can
this be the Messiah who was to make us " sit
on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel?"
Luke xxii. 30. As.this was the grand offence
with the apostles, their Master supplies them
with more than one buckler to repel it.

1. The first buckler for repelling the offence
of the cross — The miserable condition of a
lost world. " I tell you the truth; it is expe
dient for you that I go away; for if I go not
away, the Comforter will not come unto you,"
ch. xvi. 7. Had not Jesus Christ been offered
in sacrifice, there had been no Comforter, and
no consolation for the wretched posterity of
Adam. The anger of a righteous God was
kindled against them. They had nothing to
look for from heaven, but thunderbolts and " a
horrible tempest," to crush their guilty heads.
On the cross it was that Jesus Christ restored
a blessed correspondence between heaven and
earth; " for it pleased the Father, that in him
should all fulness dwell; and, having made
peace through the blood of his cross, by him
to reconcile all things unto himself, whether
they be things in earth, or things in heaven,"
Col. i. 19,20.

2. The second buckler against the offence
of the cross — The downfall of the enemy of
mankind, I mean the devil and his angels:
" the prince of this world is judged," ch. xiv.
30, xvi. 11. The crucifixion of the Redeemer
of the world, it is true, seemed to complete the
triumph of Satan, but it was, in reality, pre
cisely the point of his decline and fall. He
" bruised the heel" of the promised seed, but
Jesus Christ "bruised his head," Gen. iii. 16.
On the cross it was that Jesus executed the

SER. LXX.]

TO HIS DISCIPLES.

149

design of his coming into the world, namely, to
"destroy the works of the devil " 1 John iii. 8.
On the cross it was that Jesus Christ poured
out the precious blood which was going to be
come the true seed of the church. On the
cross it was that he dashed down to the ground
the trophies of idolatry, and there he "spoiled
principalities and powers, and made a show of
them openly, triumphing over them in it,"
Col. ii. 15.

3. The third buckler against the offence of
the cross — The sovereign command of his
heavenly Father: "the prince of this world
cometh, and hath nothing in me. But that
the world may know that I love the Father;
and as the Father gave me commandment,
even so I do," chap. xiv. 30, 31. What was
the commandment given of the Father to Je
sus Christ? You know it, my brethren; the
commission which he had given him, was to
deliver from the dreadful abysses of hell a
world of miserable wretches, whom divine
justice had there doomed to undergo the pun
ishment of everlasting fire. This was the su
preme will which the Redeemer had continu
ally before his eyes. For this it was that he
says, when he corneth into the world: " sacri
fice and offering thou didst not desire: but a
body hast thou prepared for me: burnt-offering
and sin-offering hast thou not required: then
said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book

it is written of me: I delight to do thy will, O
my God," Ps. xl. 6 — 8. For this it was that,
dismayed, and cast down, as it were to the
ground at Gethsemane, at the bare apprehension
of approaching sufferings, he prayed, saying:
" O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup
pass from me," but immediately added, " never
theless, not as I will, but as thou wilt,
xxvi. 39.

your children," Luke xxiii. 28. You shall be
hold the Jews driven to desperation, imploring
assistance from the rocks and from the moun
tains, to shelter them from the strokes of that
divine vengeance which pursues them: you shall
behold that Jerusalem, that murderess of the
prophets, deluged with her own blood: two
millions of Jews offered in sacrifice to the
justice of that God, who requires at their hands
the blood of the Messiah.

5. The fifth buckler against the offence of
the cross — The spectacle of charity which Jesus
Christ presents to his disciples: " Greater love
hath no man than this, that a man lav down
his life for his friends," chap. xv. 13. Accord
ingly, when this divine Saviour had arrived
at the period of his death, and had formed, if I
may use the expression, the ultimate resolution
to die, every flood-gate of his charity is set
open: from this fountain of love, whence
emanated the heroic purpose of immolating
himself for his disciples, we behold every other
proof of affection gushing out in copious
streams: " Henceforth I call you not servants,
for the servant knoweth not what his lord
doeth: but I have called you friends; for all
things that I have heard of my Father I have
made known unto you," chap. xv. 15. If you
have been faithful to me while I was giving
you strong proofs of my tenderness, is it possi
ble you should be unfaithful, now that I am

preparing to give you a demonstration of it
still more irresistible? Is it possible you should
choose the time of my crucifixion to betray me?
Is it possible you should deny your Redeemer,
precisely at the moment when he is dying to
accomplish the work of your redemption?

II. Our blessed Lord having spoken to the
Matt, j disciples, of the cross which he was about to
| suffer, and this is the second article of media-

4. The fourth buckler against the offence of ' tion, proceeds to speak to them concerning
the cross — The idea of the storm whicli was j their own. He disguises not either the horror
ready to burst on the authors of those surfer- I or the weight of it: "These things I have

ings, and upon a whole guilty nation which
had obstinately rejected his ministry: " If I had
not come and spoken unto them, they had not

spoken unto you, that you should not be of
fended. They shall put you out of the syna
gogues: yea, the time cometh, that whosoever

had sin: but now they have no cloak for their ! killeth you will think that he doeth God ser-

sin. He that hateth me, hatetli my Father
also," chap. xv. 22, 23. This parricide filled
up the measure of the incredulity and barbari.-
ty of the Jews: it was going to put the last
hand to an accumulation of criminality. But
let not the impatience of the flesh hurry the
spirit into the formation of precipitate judg
ment: let not the libertine and the profane
here display their abominable system; let them
not say, as they point to the cross of the Sa
viour, on which innocence is immolated to ini
quity, where is that Providence which guides
the helm of the universe? Where are those
eyes which go up and down through the earth,
to contemplate the actions of men? Where is
that righteous judge of all the earth, ever ready
to administer justice? Have a little patience,
and you shall see, that as this parricide con
stituted the most atrocious of all crimes, it
was likewise speedily followed by the most
tremendous of all punishments. You shall be
hold the accomplishment of that prophetic
denunciation: " Daughters of Jerusalem, weep
not for me, but weep for yourselves and for

vice," chap. xvi. 1, 2. But while he utters a
prediction so melancholy and discouraging, he
softens it, and supplies them with motives the
best adapted to fortify and sustain them against
the fearful accomplishment of it. The objects
which Jesus Christ presents to the eyes of his
disciples, in the three chapters which we are
attempting to analyze, are the same which have
supported our own martyrs and confessors in
this age of fire and blood, when the enemies
of religion have taken for their models the per
secutors of Christ and of his apostles.

I suffer, I die for the gospel, said each of
our confessors and martyrs within themselves,
in the extremity of their sufferings: I suffer, I
die for the gospel: it is my highest glory; it is
my badge of conformity to my adorable Sa
viour: "I fill up that which is behind of the
afflictions of Christ in my flesh," Col. i. 24.
" I bear in my body the marks of the Lord
Jesus," Gal. vi. 17. It is one of the motives
which our Lord himself proposes to the apos
tles: " if the world hate you, you know that it
hated me before it hated you. The servant ia

150

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS

[SER. LXX,

not greater than his lord. If they have per
secuted me, they will also persecute you,"
chap. xv. 18. 20.

I suffer, I die for the gospel. The world
places before me a theatre of misery and per
secution only: but it is because I am not of
this world I am looking and longing for an
other establishment of things, and every stroke
aimed at me by the men of the world, is a
pledge of my being a citizen of another, of a
heavenly country. This is a farther motive
suggested by Jesus Christ to the disciples: " If
ye were of the world, the world would love his
own: but because ye are not of the world, but
I have chosen you out of the world, therefore
the world hateth you," chap. xv. 19.

I suffer, I die for the gospel. How glorious
it is for a man to devote himself in such a
cause! How glorious it is to be the martyr of
truth and of virtue! Our Lord suggests this
likewise as a motive to his disciples: " all these
things will they do unto you for my name's
sake, because they know not him who sent
me," chap. xv. 21.

I suffer, I die for the gospel; but God is
witness of my sufferings and death: he feels j
every stroke which falls upon me: " he who j
toucheth me, toucheth the apple of his eye," j
Zech. ii. 8. And as he is the witness of the
barbarity of my tormentors, he will likewise
be the judge and the avenger. This likewise |
is a motive suggested by our Lord to his dis- j
ciples: " he that hateth me hateth my father
also," chap. xv. 23.

I suffer, I die for the gospel: but I have be
fore my eyes the great pattern of patience and
fortitude. I derive the support which I need
from the same source whence my Saviour de
rived his: I look to " the author and finisher of
my faith, who for the joy that was set before
him endured the cross, despising the shame,"
Heb. xii. 2, and I aspire after the same triumph.
This is a motive suggested by Jesus Christ to
his disciples; " in the world ye shall have tri
bulation: but be of good cheer, I have over
come the world," chap. xvi. 33. What cross
would not appear light, when the mind is sup
ported by motives so powerful?

III. We observed, in the third place, that
our blessed Lord is, in this address cautioning
his disciples against forgetfulness of his com
mandments. The presence of a good pastor is
a bulwark against error and vice. The re
spect which he commands by his exemplary
conduct, and the lustre which his superior in
telligence diffuses, impress truth upon the un
derstanding, and transfuse virtue into the
heart. He has his eyes ever open upon the
various avenues through which the enemy
could find admission into the field of the Lord,
to sow it with tares, and by the exercise of
constant vigilance defeats the cunning of the
wicked one.

Conformably to this idea, one of the most
grievous solicitudes which, at a dying hour,
have oppressed the minds of those extraordi
nary men to whom God committed the over
sight of his church, proceeded from the ap
prehension of that corruption into which their
charge was in danger of falling after their own
departure; and the object of their most anx
ious concern has been to prevent this. Be

hold Moses approaching the last closing scene
of life: "Take this book of the law," says he
to the Levites, " and put it in the side of the
ark of the covenant of the Lord your God,
that it may be there for a witness against thee,
for I know thy rebellion and thy stiff neck:
behold, while I am yet alive with you this
day, ye have been rebellious against the Lord;
and how much more after my death?" Deut.
xxxi. 26, 27. Behold St. Paul: consider the
terrors which he feels as he prepares to go up
to Jerusalem: it is not that of being made a
partaker of his master's sufferings: " no," says
he, " the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city,
saying, that bonds and afflictions abide me at
Jerusalem. But none of these things movo
me, neither count I my life dear unto myself,
so that I might finish my course with joy, and
the ministry which I have received of the
Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace
of God," Acts xx. 23, 24. But that which
fills him with painful apprehension is the dan
ger of apostatizing, to which his beloved Ephe-
sians, among whom he has been so successful,
were going to be exposed after he had left
them: for this reason it is, that in bidding them
a final adieu, he expresses an ardent wish that
a last effort should indelibly impress on their
hearts the great truths which had been the
subject of his ministry among them; " I take
you to record this day, that I am pure from
the blood of all men: for I have not shunned
to declare unto you all the counsel of God.
Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to
all the flock over which the Holy Ghost hath
made you overseers, to feed the church of
God, which he hath purchased with his own
blood. For I know this, that after my depart
ing shall grievous wolves enter in among you,
not sparing the flock," Acts xx. 26 — 29.

Jesus Christ, in like manner, is ready to
finish the work which his heavenly Father has
given him to do: he shrinks from it no longer:
he advances forward, braving the cross, being
"now ready to be offered," 2 Tim. iv. 6.
" Arise," says he to them, " arise," (he was
still in the house where he had just eaten the
passover, when he pronounced the discourse
which we are endeavouring to explain) " let
us go hence," chap. xiv. 31. I must pass no
more time with my beloved disciples; I am
going to be delivered lip to my executioners;
I must " no more drink" with you " of the
fruit of the vine," Luke xxii. 18, in a feast of
love; it is time for me to go and drink to the
very dregs the cup which the justice of my
Father is putting into my hands: " let us go
hence:" let us go to Gethsemane: let us ascend
to Golgotha. But, " Simon, S;rnon, behold,
Satan hath desired to have you, that he may
sift you as wheat," Luke xxii. 31. But, " all
ye shall be offended because of me this night,"
Matt. xxvi. 31. But, the devil, and the world,
and all hell, are going to unite their efforts to
dissolve your communion with me. What
does he oppose to danger so threatening?
What means does he employ to prevent it?
What ought to be done by a good pastor
when stretched on a death-bed; not only ear
nest prayers addressed to heaven, but also
tender exhortations addressed to men. He
gives them an abridgment of the sermons

SER. LXXI.]

TO HIS DISCIPLES.

151

which, during the period of his intercourse
with them, had been the subject of his min
istrations: "if ye love me, keep my command
ments," chap. xiv. 15.

But what merits especial attention in the
last address of Jesus Christ to his apostles, is
the precept on which he particularly insists;
and the subject of that precept is charity: "by
this shall all men know that ye are my disci
ples, if ye have love one to another," chap,
xiii. 35. " A new commandment I give unto
you, that ye love one another; as I have loved
you, that ye also love one another," ver. 34;
a precept which they were bound to observe
as Christians, and more especially as ministers
of his gospel.

1. As Christians: without charity Christi
anity cannot possibly subsist. A society, the
individuals of which do not love each other,
cannot be a society of the disciples of Jesus
Christ. Tell me not of your passing whole
days and nights in meditation and reading the
Scriptures; of your uninterrupted assiduity in
exercises of devotion; of your fervour and
frequency of attendance at the table of the
Lord. The question still recurs, where is thy
charity? Lovest thou thy neighbour? Makest
thou his interest thy own? Is his prosperity a
source of satisfaction to thee? Canst thou bear
with and overlook his infirmities? Respectest
thou, recommendest thou his excellencies?
Defendest thou his reputation? Labourest
thou to promote his salvation? Such ques
tions are so many touchstones to assist us in
attaining the knowledge of ourselves: so many
articles of condemnation to multitudes who
bear the Christian name. Of charity, alas,
little more is known than the name: and the
whole amount of the practice of it is reduced
to a few of the functions altogether insepara
ble from mere humanity: when a man has
given away a small portion of his superfluity
to relieve the poor; when he has bestowed a
morsel of bread to feed that starving wretch;
when he has covered those shivering limbs
from the inclemency of the air, he considers
himself as having satisfied the demands of
charity: he founds, shall I venture to say it,
he founds on this symptom of love a title to
warrant his indifference, his vengeance, his
hatred: he backbites without control, he ca-
luminates without hesitation, he plunges the
dagger without remorse: he pines at the pros
perity of another, and his neighbour's glory
clothes him with shame.

2. But if the disciples of Jesus Christ are
engaged as Christians to love one another,
they more especially are so as ministers of the
gospel . Where are we to look for charity,
if not in the heart of those who are the her
alds of charity? What monster so detestable
as a minister destitute of charity! The more
that charity is inculcated by the religion
which he professes to teach, the more it must
expose him as a most unnatural being, if he is
capable of resisting the power of motives so
tend«r. The more venerable that his minis
try is, the more liable must it be to suspicion
and contempt, when exercised by a man who
is himself a stranger to charity. He will warp
the truths of religion according to seasons
and circumstances; he will accommodate his

preaching to his interest; he will carry his
passions with him into the pulpit; he will
conceal the heart of a wolf under the clothing
of a sheep, and will avail himself of the law
of charity itself, to diffuse through the whole
church the pestilential air of that hatred, ani
mosity, and envy, which torment and prey
upon his own mind.

It was, in a peculiar manner, the desire of
Jesus Christ, that charity should be the reign
ing principle in the college of the apostles,
that united together in bands of the tenderest
affection, they might lend each other effectual
support in the great work of publishing the

Never does the devil labour with
more success against a church, than when he
acquires the power of disuniting the ministers
who have the oversight of it. Call to the
pastoral charge of a flock persons of the great
est celebrity, preachers the most eloquent,
geniuses the most transcendant, unless they
are closely united in the bands of charity,
small will be their progress; they will sepa
rate the hearts which they were bound to
unite; they will foster the spirit of party;
they will encourage the fomenters of discord;
they will instruct one to say, " I am of Paul;"
and another, " I am of Cephas;" and another,
" I am oT Apollos," 1 Cor. iii. 4. They will be
in constant mutual opposition. Apollos will
do his utmost to pull down what Cephas has
built up; Cephas will attempt to rear what
Paul had demolished. Discover the art, on
the contrary, of uniting the hearts of those
who have the care of a flock, and you ensure
their success; they will strengthen each other's
hands; they will attack the common enemy
with concentrated force; they will concur in
pursuing the same object. " A new com
mandment I give unto you, that ye love one
another. By this shall all men know that ye
are my disciples, if ye have love one to an
other." O charity! the livery of the disciples
of Jesus Christ, must it needs be that thou
shouldst be as rare as thou art indispensable!
Banished from the rest of the universe, flee for
refuge to the church. Exert thy sovereign
power at least in the sanctuary. Bind together
in bands of indissoluble affection the shep
herds of this flock. Let all animosity, let dis
cord, let envy, be for ever banished from the
midst of us, my beloved companions " in the
work of the ministry," Eph. iv. 12.

SERMON LXXI.

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS
TO HIS DISCIPLES.

PART II.

JOHN xiv. 1.
Let not your hearts be troubled: ye believe in God;

believe also in me.

IV. THE fourth and last great end which
our blessed Lord had in view, in addressing
this farewell discourse to his disciples, was to
furnish them with supplies of consolation un
der the sorrow which his absence was going to
excite in them. This sorrow is one of those

152

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS

[SER. LXXI.

dispositions of the soul which no powers of
language are capable of expressing. The
apostles tenderly loved their master. Though
the history of their life had not conveyed to
us this idea of them; though the gospel had
not traced, for our information, certain parti
cular traits of their affection; had nothing been
mentioned of the tenderness of the disciple
whom Jesus loved, nothing of the vehemence
of St. Peter, always ready to kindle into a
flame when the glory and the life of his mas
ter were concerned, the very nature of the
thing would be sufficient to give us the assu
rance of it. Who could have known Jesus
Christ without loving him?

Is it possible to conceive the idea of a cha
racter more amiable? Have you found in the
history of those excellent ones, who were the
delight of mankind; or even in the produc
tions of those who have communicated to us
imaginary ideas of excellency and perfection,
have you found in these higher instances of
delicacy, of magnanimity, of cordial affection?
If it be impossible for you to apply your
thoughts to this great object without being
transported, what must have been the feelings
of the disciples? Continual hearers of the gra
cious words which fell from the lips of the
blessed Jesus, the constant witnesses of his vir
tues, the spectators of his wonderful works,
admitted to the most intimate familiarity with
him, and honoured with the most unbounded
confidence, what must have been the love to
him which inflamed their hearts? Now this is
the gracious Master, this the delicious inter
course, this the tender-hearted friend whom
they are going to lose.

What charm can the world possess after we
have had the infelicity of surviving certain per
sons who were dear to us? No, neither the
mourning of Joseph, when he accompanied
with tears to " the threshing floor of Atad" the
coffin of Jacob his father, Gen. i. 10; no, nor
the loud lamentation of David, when he ex
claimed, in an agony of wo, " O my son Absa
lom; my son, my son Absalom, would God I
had died for thee: O Absalom, my son, my son!"
2 Sam. xviii. 33; no, nor the anguish of Rachel
" weeping for her children, and refusing to be
comforted because they are not," Matt. ii. 18.
No, nothing is capable of conveying an idea of
the condition to which the disciples were going
to be reduced on beholding their Master expire.
One must have survived Jesus Christ in order
to be sensible what it is to survive Jesus Christ.
This fatal stroke was to become to them an in
exhaustible fountain of tears. This death ap
peared to them the utter annihilation of all
things: it seemed as if the whole universe were
dying together with him. " Now I go my way
to him that sent me; and none of you asketh
me, Whither goest thou? but because I have
said these things unto you, sorrow hath filled
your hearts," chap. xvi. 5, 6. u A little while
and ye shall not see me," ver. 16. "Verily,
verily, I say unto you, Ye shall weep and la
ment, but the world shall rejoice; and ye shall
be sorrowful," ver. 20.

There can be no room to doubt that Jesus
Christ, who himself loves with so much delicacy
of affection, and who was animated with such
a predilection in behalf of his disciples, tenderly

participated in their sorrow. As the loss, which
they were about to sustain, was the deepest
wound in their soul, he pours into it the most
powerful balm of divine consolation. And here,
my dearly beloved brethren, here it is that I
stand in need of, not all the attention of your
intellectual powers, but of all the sensibility of
which your heart is susceptible, that while you
partake in the sorrow of the apostles, you may
likewise partake with them in the consolation
which their Lord and ours was pleased to ad
minister.

I shall sometimes turn aside from those holy
men, rny dear hearers, to address myself to you,
and to supply you with abundant consolation,
under the most oppressive ills which you may
be called to endure on the earth; I mean under
the loss of those who were most dear to you in
life. I could wish to convince you, that the
Christian religion is " profitable for all things:"
that it will serve us as a bulwark and a refuge
in our greatest sorrows, if we have but the wis
dom to resort to it. Only take care to apply,
every one to his own particular situation, the
truth which I am going to propose to you.
Derive your consolations from the same sources
which Jesus Christ opened to his disciples, and
to a participation of which we now, after his
example, cordially invite you: prayer, the mis
sion of the Comforter, the place to which your
Redeemer is gone, the foretastes of the glory
which he is there preparing for you, his spi
ritual presence in the midst of you, and the cer
tainty and nearness of his return.

1. In all your distresses have recourse to
prayer. " Verily, verily, I say unto you, What
soever ye shall ask the Father, in my name, he
will give it you. Hitherto ye have asked no
thing in my name: ask and ye shall receive,
that your joy may be full," chap. xvi. 23, 24.
This ought to be adopted as a new form of
prayer in the Christian world. Scarcely do we
find any trace of it in the devotions of the faith
ful of ancient times. They indeed sometimes
introduce the names of Abraham, of Isaac, and
of Jacob; but nowhere, except in the prophecy
of Daniel, do we find a prayer put up in the
hame of the Messiah. This at least is the sense
which may be assigned to those words of that
prophet: " Now, therefore, O our God, hear the
prayer of thy servant, and his supplication, and
cause thy face to shine upon thy sanctuary, that
is desolate, for the Lord's sake," Dan. ix. 17.

But this unexampled form, or of which there
s at most so few examples in the ancient
church, was to be henceforward adopted by all
Christians: it is the first source of consolation
which Christ opened to his disciples, and it is
ikewise the first which we, after him, would
sropose to you. Perhaps there may be many
among us to whom Jesus might still say, as
brrnerly to his disciples, " hitherto have ye
asked nothing in my name." To pray, arid to
)ray in the name of Christ, is the Christian's
jrand resource. Resort to it in all your tribu-
ations. Have you reason to apprehend that
some stroke from the hand of God is going to
'all heavy upon you? Do you believe yourself
>n the eve of hearing some melancholy tidings?
Are you called to undergo some painful and
dangerous operation on your person? And, to
.y every thing in one word, are you threatened

SER. LXXI.]

TO HIS DISCIPLES.

153

with the loss of the most valuable, the most
generous, the most tender friend that Heaven
could bestow? Have recourse to prayer: God
still subsists when all things else have become
dead to thee. God continues to hear thee,
when death has reduced to a state of insensi
bility all that was dear to thee. Retire to thy
closet; prostrate thyself at the footstool of the
throne of the Father of mercies. Pour out your
heart into his bosom: say to him, " O Lord, my
strength, teach my hands to war, and my fin
gers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. Lord, take pity on
thy creature; Lord, proportion my trials to the
strength thou shall be pleased to administer to
sustain them; " O my God, hear the prayer of
thy servant; cause thy face to shine upon me,
for the Lord's sake," Dan. ix. 17. This exer
cise, rny friend, will render thee invulnerable:
this exercise will communicate strength on
which thou mayest, with confidence, rely, far
beyond what thou durst have expected: it will
place thee under the shadow of the Almighty,
and will establish thee " as Mount Zion, which
cannot be removed, but abideth for ever," Ps.
cxxv. 1.

2. In all your distresses call to remembrance
the promise of the Comforter, which Jesus
Christ gave to his disciples: " I will pray the
Father, and he shall give you another Com
forter; that he may abide with you for ever,"
chap. xiv. 16. This promise contained some
thing peculiar, relatively to the apostles, and
to the then state of the infant church. It de
noted the economy of miracles, which was not
to commence till Jesus Christ had reascended
into heaven; and this is precisely the meaning
of these words: "If I go not away, the Com
forter will not come unto you," chap. xvi. 7; it
is likewise the meaning to be assigned to that
passage, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that
believeth on me, the works that 1 do shall he
do also; and greater works than these shall he
do; because 1 go unto my Father," chap. xiv.
By the works which the apostles were to do, we
are to understand miracles. Those works were
to be greater than the works of Jesus Christ,
with respect to their duration, and with respect
to the number of witnesses in whose presence
they were to be performed.

This is, farther, the idea which we are to
affix to those other words of our Saviour: " I
have yet many things to say unto you, but you
cannot bear them now. Howbeit. when he,
the Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you
into all truth," chap. xvi. 12, 13. This refers
to those extraordinary gifts which the Holy
Spirit was to pour down upon the apostles, the
aid of inspiration, and the grace of infallibility,
which were going to be communicated to them.
It is likewise of these peculiar circumstances,
that we must explain the effects which Jesus
Christ ascribes to that Spirit whom he promises
to send to his disciples: "And when he the
Comforter is come, he will reprove the world
of sin, because they believe not on me," chap,
xvi. 8, 9; or, as it might have been translated,
" he shall convince them of their criminality in
refusing to believe on me:" in other words, that
the mission of the Holy Spirit, which Jesus
Christ had promised to his disciples, should be
a new proof of the divinity of his own mission,
VOL. II.— 20

and should render those persons inexcusable
who presumed to call it in question.

Again, "he shall reprove them of righteous
ness, because I go to my Father," ver. 10, that
is, the miraculous gifts communicated to the
first heralds of the gospel should demonstrate,
in a sensible manner, that Jesus Christ was in
heaven, and should, from that very circum
stance, evince that he was perfectly righteous,
although he had been condemned as an im
postor, seeing God had thus exalted him to the
highest pinnacle of glory.

Once more, " he shall reprove them of judg
ment, because the prince of this world is judg
ed," ver. 11; in other words, that the triumphs
which the Christian religion was about to ob
tain, through the miraculous endowments of its
ministers, were to be an awful forerunner of the
judgments which should overtake those who
persisted in their unbelief. All this is peculiar
to the apostles; all this relates to the circum
stances of the primitive church.

But this promise, my beloved brethren, has a
reference to us also; and let it be our support in,
the midst of tribulation. Jesus Christ has pro
mised to us also, the Comforter. His Spirit is
within us: " Greater is he that is in us, than he
that is in the world," 1 John iv. 4. Let us
yield ourselves to the guidance of this Spirit:
he will not grant us to exercise authority over
insensible beings, to control the powers of na
ture, and to rule the elements; but he will exalt
us to a glorious superiority over flesh and blood;
he will support us under every pressure of ca
lamity, and make us " more than conquerors"
over every foe.

$. In all your distresses, call to remembrance
the place to which Jesus Christ is gone. " If
ye love rne, ye would rejoice, because I said, I
go unto the Father," chap. xiv. 28. It is the
desire of Jesus Christ, that his disciples, on be
ing separated from him, should not confine their
thoughts to their own interest merely. It is his
wish, that the glory to which he was about to
be exalted, should sweeten to them the bitter
ness of separation. Jesus Christ teaches us
how to love. We frequently imagine, that we
are inspired with love to a person excruciated
with agonizing pains, whereas it is only self-
love in disguise. When death has removed a
person, who was justly dear to us, we dwell
only on the loss which we have sustained, but
make no account of what our friend has gained.
Whence proceed those tears which stream from
your eyes? Whence these sighs and sobbings?
What dreadful event can thus have rent your
heart, and excited those piercing shrieks which
rend the air? You have just beheld one who
was the object of your tenderest affection depart
out of this valley of tears; he has breathed out
his soul into the hands of his Creator, and the
blessed " angels, who rejoice over a sinner that
repenteth," Luke xv. 10, experience new trans
ports of delight, when a believer who had been
combating under the banner of the cross of
Christ, comes to be admitted to a participation
in his triumph: and can you consider this as a
ground of affliction to you? Do you call this
love? No: you know not how to love.

Ah! if the departed could see what is passing
below the sun! if the supreme order of the Al-

154

CHRIST'S VALEDICTORY ADDRESS

. LXXI.

mighty would permit those who are in heaven
to maintain a communication with their sur
viving friends on the earth! the person, whose
loss you so bitterly deplore, would reproach you
with that excess of grief. He would address
you in the words of the Saviour to his disciples:
" If you loved me, ye would rejoice, because I
said, I go unto the Father, for the Father is
greater than I." Would you tear ine from the
bosorn of that Father? Would you recall me
to this scene of tribulation and distress? Do
you wish to see me again struggling with the
calamities which are inseparable from the life
of wretched mortals?

But there is something farther which chal
lenges our attention. All that our blessed
Lord has done for himself, has an intimate re
lation to us. All the glory which rests on our
illustrious head extends its influence to each of
its members. All the parts of the economy
into which he has entered for our salvation,
have a direct reference to our salvation. " He
was delivered for our offences, and was raised
again for our justification: He is even at the
right hand of God, where he also maketh in
tercession for us," Rom. iv. 26;'viii. 34. In
all your distresses, reflect not only on the place
to which Christ is gone, but likewise on what
he has thither gone to do, on your behalf. " In
my Father's house are many mansions: if it
were not so I would have told you. 1 go to
prepare a place for you," chap. xiv. 2. God
no longer dwells in " light which no man can
approach unto," 1 Tim. vi. 16. Direct your
eyes to heaven. There are no longer " cheru
bim, and a flaming sword," Gen. iii. 24, to ob
struct your passage. " Whither I go ye know,
and the way ye know:" .... "Jesus Christ
is the way, and the truth, and the life," chap,
xiv. 4. 6. Keep but yourselves closely united
to the Redeemer in the hour of tribulation;
place continually before your eyes this model
of patient suffering, and lie will himself con
duct you to those mansions of glory.

4. But an impenetrable veil conceals from
our eyes those mansions in our Father's house:
but there is an infinite distance between this^
little corner of the world, into which God has
been pleased to send us, as into a state of
exile, and the place which Christ is preparing for
us. God is still, with respect to us, " a strong
God, who hideth himself," Isa. xiv. 15. Well,
you must learn to look through that veil.
You must learn to fill up the mighty void
which is between heaven and earth, and to see
this God who still conceals himself from our
eyes. " Faith is the substance of things hoped
for, and the evidence of things not seen,"
Heb. xi. 1. The Christian is instructed to
unite the present to futurity. The Christian is
instructed to anticipate periods the most re
mote. The Christian is a man already " quick
ened together with Christ; already glorified;
already seated in heavenly places with Christ
Jesus," Eph. ii. 5. How so? By the fore
tastes of those blessings which are the object
of his expectations. This is the fourth source
of the consolation which our Lord opens to his
disciples, and which we, after him, open to you.
" From henceforth ye know the father, and
have seen him: he that hath seen me hath seen
the Father: peace I leave with you; my peace

I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give
1 unto you," chap. xiv. 7. 9. 27.

My soul, if these are mere empty ideas with
respect to thee, to thyself alone is the evil to
be imputed. Thou hast corrupted thy taste:
thou art plunging thyself in the world; dis
tracting1 thyself with its projects: eagerly hunt
ing after its pleasures: thou art suffering thy
self to be fascinated with its charms: thou art
devoting no portion of thy immortal capacity
to the perception of that delight which the
regenerated man enjoys, when he can say to
himself, " I know the Father;" he is such as I
know the Son to he, full of love, full of cha
rity, full of goodness and long-suffering. Jesus
Christ has " left me his peace;" I bear within
me the testimony of " a conscience void of
offence:" 1 give myself up to the joy of re
flecting that my salvation is secure." Thou
renderest thyself insensible to these sublime at
tractions: and then, when the world betrays
thee; when thy " gods are taken away from
thee," Judg. xviii. 24; when thou art bent on
every side with a " great sight of affliction,"
thou findest thyself destitute of every resource.
Reform thy depraved taste. Call down para
dise to reside within thee; anticipate that glo
rious period, when thou " shalt see God as he
is," 1 John iii. 2. Call to remembrance these
words of thy Saviour: " From henceforth ye
know the father, and have seen him: he that
hath seen me hath seen the father: peace I
leave with you; my peace I give unto you;
not as the world giveth, give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be
afraid."

5. There is a fifth source of consolation
which Jesus Christ disclosed to his disciples,
and which we, after him, disclose unto you.
it is the assurance of his spiritual presence,
and of the presence of his heavenly Father in
the midst of you. " I will not leave you com
fortless," or, as it might have been rendered, I

will not leave you orphans " If a

man love me, he will keep my words; and my
father will love him, and we will corne unto
him, and make our abode with him:" chap. xiv.
18. 23. In all your distresses call to remem
brance that God is with you of a truth. With
what fortitude did this reflection inspire those
holy men whom the Scriptures have proposed
to us as models!

With what fortitude was Moses animated by
it! " Wherein shall it be known here," said
of old time that eminent servant of God, " that
I and thy people have found grace in thy
sight? Is it not in that thou goest with us?
So shall we be separated, I and thy people,
from all the people that are upon the face of
the earth:" Ex. xxiii. 16. With what forti
tude did it animate the prophet, when he said,
" When my father and my mother forsake me,
then the Lord will take me up!" Ps. xxxvii. 10.
With what fortitude did it inspire Jesus Christ
himself, under that universal desertion which
he experienced at the hour of death? " Be
hold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that
ye shall be scattered every man to his own,
and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not
alone, because the Father is with me," chap,
xvi. 32.

Let us never lose sight of God in the day of

SER. LXXI.]

adversity. Let us ever dwell with complacen
cy and joy on that expression of the Redeemer,
" I will not leave you orphans." Let us ap
ply to ourselves what God said of his ancient
people: " Surely they are my people, children
that will not lie: so he was their Saviour. In
all their affliction he was afflicted, and the an
gel of his presence saved them," Isa. Ixiii. 8, 9;
and let us exult in the fulness of a Christian
confidence: " I have set the Lord always be
fore rne: because he is at my right hand, I
shall not be moved," Ps. xvi. 8.

6. Finally, the last source of consolation
which Jesus Christ disclosed to his disciples,
and which we, after his example, would dis
close unto you, is the nearness of his return:
" Ye now have sorrow: but I will see you
again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your
joy no man taketh from you," chap. xvi. 22.
In all your distresses call to remembrance, that
if Jesus Christ be not now sensibly present in
the midst of you, the time is at hand when he
will certainly be so. Call to remembrance
what the angels said unto the apostles, when
lost in astonishment at beholding a cloud re
ceive him out of their sight; " Ye men of Ga
lilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven?
this same Jesus which is taken up from you
into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as
ye have seen him go into heaven," Acts i. 11.
Call to remembrance that Jesus Christ will
quickly reappear; " Yet a little while, and he
who shall come, will come, and will not tarry,"
Heb. x. 37.

No, this economy is not made for eternity.
The world is waxing old; ouv years are hasten
ing to fill up their measure: we are advancing
with rapid strides towards the tomb. The de
corations of the* universe are speedily to be
changed with respect to us. The universe it-

TO HIS DISCIPLES.

155

of the fulness of joy. Till that blessed period,
church of Jesus Christ, " thou afflicted, tossed
with tempest, and not comforted," Isa. liv. 2,
a fearful night must involve thee in thick dark
ness. Till that blessed period, weep; weep,
dejected Christian, disciple of the crucified Je
sus, weep and lament, and let " the world re
joice because ye are sorrowful," but ere long,

" your sorrow shall be turned into joy

I will see you again, and your heart shall re
joice, and your joy no man taketh from you."

What powers of thought are equal to a
happy termination of this subject of medita
tion! What pencil is capable of depicting the
joys of the sons of God, in that eventful day,
in which they shall behold again, in which
they shall embrace, a father, a friend, a child,
from whom death had once separated them!
Let imagination soar to the highest object
which the mind is capable of contemplating.
Let nothing divide the love which we entirely
owe to our adorable Redeemer, or damp the
delight which we derive from the exalted hope
of seeing him return to us in the clouds of hea
ven, with his "angels that excel in strength."

Who is capable of representing the transport
which the return of this Jesus shall kindle in
the bosoms of the faithful! There he is, that
Jesus in whom we believed: this is he, that Je
sus whom we loved, and to whom we were
faithful even unto death." Come, Redeemer
of our souls, come and wipe away the tears
which thy departure drew from our eyes: come,
and compensate to us the heaviness of so long
a separation from thee; come and receive the
effusions of our gratitude and joy: suffer us,
suffer us to yield to the transports of that love
which absorbs every faculty, which constrains
us, which exalts us to seraphic ardour.

This is the last source of consolation which

self is about' to undergo a real change. The } Jesus Christ disclosed to his disciples; this is

state of the world, that now is, presents a state
of violence, which cannot be of long duration.
The last trumpet must ere long utter its voice:
yet a little while, and those thunders must be
heard which shall shake the pillars of the
earth: " arise ye dead," and leave your tombs.
Yet a little while, and we shall see again those
whose death hath cost us so many tears, and
we shall be reunited to them. Yet a little
while, and " the sign of the Son of man shall
appear in heaven," Matt. xxiv. 30. Yet a little
while, and this Son of man shall himself ap
pear in his own, and in his " Father's glory,
with all his holy angels."

Ah! my brethren, till that blessed period ar
rive, we dare not promise you the possession

that consolation which flows out in copious
streams towards you, Christian, confounded,
overwhelmed with wave upon wave, in all thy
fears, thy sorrows, thy sufferings. O religion
of the blessed Jesus, how powerful are thy at
tractions! What charms dost thou possess for
a wretched creature who feols the whole earth
a cheerless void: let this religion, rny beloved
brethren, be the object of our most ardent af
fection. Let us go on unto perfection: let us
transmit it to our children, as the goodliest por
tion, as the fairest inheritance: let us live with
Jesus Christ: let us die vvth Jesus Christ.
May God grant us this supreme felicity. To
him be honour and glory id* ver and ever.
Amen.

156

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

[SER. LXXII.

SERMON LXXII.

CH-RIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

PART I.

JOHN xvii.

These words spake Jesus, and lifted up his eyes to
heaven, and said, Father, the hour is come; glo
rify thy Son, that thy Son may also glorify thee.
•3s thou hast given him power over all flesh, that
he should give eternal life to as many as thou
hast given him. And this is life eternal, that
they might know thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent. I have glo
rified thee on the earth: I have finished the work
which thou gavest me to do. And now, 0 Fa
ther, glorify thou me with thine own self, with
the glory which I had icith thee before the world
was. I have manifested thy name unto the men
which thou gavest me out of the world: thine
they were, and thou gavest them me; and they
have kept thy word. Now they have known,
that all things, whatsoever thou hast given me,
are of thee: For I have given unto them the
words which thou gavest me; and they have re
ceived them, and have known surely that I came
out from thee, and they have believed that thou
didst send me. I pray for them; I pray not for
the world, but for them which thou hast given me;
for they are thine. Jlnd all mine are thine and
thine are mine; and I am glorified in them.
And now I am no more in the world, but these
are in the world, and I come to thee. Holy
Father, keep through thine own name those
whom thou hast given me, that they may be one,
as ice are. While I was with them in the
world, I kept them in thy name; those that thou
gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost,
but the son of perdition; that the Scripture
might be fulfilled. And now come I to thee;
and these things I speak in the world, that they
might have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I
have given them my word: and the icorld hath
hated them, because they are not of the world,
even as I am not of the world. I pray not that
thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that
thou shouldst keep them from the evil. They
are not of the world, even as I am not of the
world. Sanctify them through thy truth: thy
word is truth. As thou hast sent me into the
world, even so have I also sent them into the
world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself,
tiiat they also might be sanctified through the
truth. Neither pray I for these alone, but for
them also which shall believe on me through
their word; that they all may be one; as thou,
Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also
may be one in us; that the world may believe
that thou hast sent me. And the glory which
thou gavest me I have given them; that they
may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and
thou in me, that they may be made perfect in
one; and that the world may knmo that thou
hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast
loved me. Father, I will that they also whom
thou hast given me be with me where I am; that
they may behold my glory, which thou hast given
me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation
of the world. 0 righteous Father, the world

hath not known thee: but I have known thee,
and these have known that thou hast sent me.
And I have declared unto them thy name, and
will declare it; that the love wherewith thou
hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.
THE words of dying persons usually sink
deep into the listening ear, and touch the in
most soul. Ah! why are not the impressions
which they produce as lasting as they are lively!
The words of a dying pastor, more especially,
seem calculated to produce an extraordinary
effect.

At these last solemn moments of life, every
motive of self-interest, or of vain-glory, by
which he might have been actuated through
the course of his ministry, vanishes away.
Then it is that a faithful minister derives from
the bosom of that religion which he has taught
to others, the means of fortifying himself
against the idea of a futurity all gloom, if a
man has mere human reason for his only guide,
but all light and joy to him who follows the
spirit of revelation. Then it is that he feels a
more particular concern and tenderness for the
church, and that now, himself lifted up, he
would draw all men after him.

When it is a pastor of the ordinary rate that
expires, no other consequence can be deduced
from his perseverance to the last but this, that
he had preached what he believed to be the
truth, not what was so in fact. And it is pos
sible he may deceive himself when he is dying,
is he pretended not to infallibility while he
lived. But the death of those extraordinary
men, who have established, by their testimony,
the facts on which all religion rests, is the
touchstone of the doctrines which they taught.
As it was impossible they should have been de
ceived in the points which they attest, there
can remain no other suspicion to affect their
testimony, but this, that it was their intention
to impose upon others: and this suspicion falls
',o the ground, when we behold them, without
deviation, persisting to the end in the faith
which they professed, attesting it by new ap-
jeals to heaven, calling God to witness their
sincerity, and their innocence.

All these different considerations unite in the
jerson of Jesus Christ: all these motives to at-r
;ention, and in an order infinitely superior, fix
our meditation on the words which have been
read. Come and behold the sentiments of your
•saviour unfolded, without disguise: come an4
>ehold the most lofty display of the human soul
hat ever was exhibited: come and behold whe-
her he, for one moment, doubted, whether he
hrunk back: above all, come and behold the
iharity by which he was animated. Charity
brmed the plan of the sacrifice which he should
ffer, and charity is hastening to accomplish it.
Every thought of this dying Jesus is employ
ed on his disciples: is employed about you, my
>eloved brethren. "Thine they were, and
hou gavest them me. I pray for them. I
>ray for those whom thou hast given me: keep
hem through thine own name. Neither pray
for these alone, but for them also which shall
>elieve on me through their word."

Such are the objects, my friends, which I

vould this day present to your contemplation.

put aside all the theological controversies

which have taken their rise from the passage

SER. LXXIL]

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

157

under review. My only aim shall be to recom
mend to your most serious attention the ex
pressions, one after another, the heart-affect
ing, the penetrating expressions of the dying
Saviour of mankind. So far from going abroad
in quest of enemies to combat, I could even
wish to confine my address, at the present
hour, to such of my hearers as have a heart
susceptible of those tender sentiments with
which the religion of Jesus Christ inspires all
who cordially embrace it. On hearts possessed
of such sensibility I could wish to engrave the
last expressions of the Redeemer's love: I
could wish this sermon might accompany you
up to your dying hour: I could wish that, in
the moment of expiring agony, you might be
enabled to oppose, to the fearful threats of the
king of terrors, these fervent petitions of the
Saviour of the world, which set open to you
the gates of heaven, and which establish your
eternal felicity on a foundation more unmove-
able than those of heaven and earth: " Father
I will that they also whom thou hast given me
be with me where I am; that they may behold
my glory which thou hast given me.*' Amen.
We shall arrange our subject in the order of
the three following ideas, and shall endeavour
to point out to you,

I. The relation in which Jesus Christ stands
to God.

II. The relation which subsists between the
apostles and Jesus Christ.

III. The relation subsisting between believ
ers and the apostles.

We shall distinguish these three ideas only
for the purpose of afterward establishing and
sublimating the mystery of their union. For
the perfect obedience which Jesus Christ yield
ed to the supreme will of his heavenly Father,
has united him to God in a manner ineffable,
so that he is one with God, not only as par
taking of the divine nature, but considered as
a creature.

Again, the glorious manner in which the
apostles have executed the functions of their
apostleship; having not only believed the doc
trines which their master taught them, but
diffused them over the whole world; and, like
him, sealed them with their own blood, has
united them in the closest intimacy with Jesus
Christ, so that they are " one with them as
Jesus Christ is one with the Father."

Finally, the respect with which believers
receive, and acquiesce in, the doctrine of the
apostles, and that of Jesus Christ, raises them
to a participation of the same exalted glory
and felicity, so that believers being united with
the apostles, the apostles with Jesus Christ,
and Jesus Christ with God, there results, from
this union, a society, a whole, noble, sublime,
possessing the perfection of glory and blessed
ness.

Now it is the complete union of this whole,
it is the perfection of this communion among
all these orders of beings, that Jesus Christ
here asks of the Father.

I. Let us first examine the relations in which
Jesus Christ stands to God. Jesus Christ may
be considered under two different ideas, as
God, and as Mediator.

There are, accordingly, two kinds of rela

tion, subsisting between God and Jesus Christ:
1. A relation of nature; and 2. A relation of
economy. Jesus as God is " one with the Fa
ther;" he is likewise so in his character of Me
diator.

1. There subsists between God and Christ a
unity of nature.

We perceive more than one proof of this in
the words of my text. For what are we to
understand by " that glory" of which Jesus
Christ speaks, which he " had with the Father
before the world was," unless it be that he is
God, as the Father is God?

I am well aware that in the very chapter we
are attempting to explain, some have pretend
ed to discover an argument which militates
against this doctrine. The enemies of the di
vinity of our "blessed Lord have frequently em
ployed the words which we have recited, as a
bulwark to defend their error: "this is life
eternal, that they might know thee the only
true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast
sent," ver. 3. They tell us, that Jesus Christ
here distinguishes himself from "the true
God," arid they have thence concluded, that
he is of a different nature. But it is an easy
matter to refute this objection by permitting
Jesus Christ to explain his own meaning, and
interpreting Scripture by Scripture. Let us,
from other passages, see how Jesus Christ has
distinguished himself from the true God. Is it
because he is not a true God? By no means;
for it is expressly declared in another place,
that he is " the true God, and eternal life," 1
John, v. 20.

If then, Jesus Christ has referred to two
classes, every brancli of Christian knowledge:
if he has placed in one class the knowledge
relating to " the true God," and in the other
class, all knowledge relating to the Son, whom
the true God has sent into the world, this is
simply reducing the whole of Christian theo
logy to the two great questions which were the
subject of discussion in his time, and which
contained a summary of all the topics which
can be discussed on the subject of religion.
The first was the point in dispute between the
pagan and the Jew: the other, between the
Jew and the Christian.

The matter in dispute between the pagan and
the Jew was, whether there were only one God,
or more than one. Respecting this question,
Jesus Christ pronounces a clear decision: that
" eternal life consists in knowing the one true
God." The point in dispute between the Jew
and the Christian relates to Christ's being the
Messiah, the sent of God. But this Jesus whom
God has sent, is he, God Creator, or is he a
creature merely? Neither the negative nor
the affirmative side of this question is directly
established in these words: " this is life eternal,
to know thee the only true God, and Jesus
Christ whom thou hast sent." Once admit
what Jesus Christ demands on the subject of
the first two questions, and the third will
presently resolve itself. For if we know that
there is only one God, and that Jesus Christ is
sent by him, we must receive, without hesita
tion, the doctrine which God has taught us by
this Son whom he has sent: and if we receive
this doctrine, we must believe from the doctrine

158

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

[Sen. LXXIL

itself, that he who is sent must be God: be
cause the divinity of his nature is one point of
the doctrine which he has taught.

There are, therefore, relations of nature be
tween Jesus Christ and God. There is a unity
of Jesus Christ as God with his Father. There
is a glory which Jesus Christ " had with God,
before the world was." and which he always
possessed, even at the period of his deepest
humiliation. This union is as unchangeable as
Deity itself. The glory which Jesus Christ
derives from it is not susceptible of increase or
diminution. All that he prays for in respect
of it, is, that it might be known among men:
and in this sense we may understand the ex
pression in our text: " Father, glorify me with
the glory which I had with thee, before the
world was," ver. 5. But,

2. There subsists likewise a relation of eco
nomy between Jesus Christ and the Father.
Jesus Christ as Mediator is "one with God."
I have a conception of three kinds of Unity in
this respect: 1. Unity of idea: 2. Unity of will:
3. Unity of dominion.

(1.) There is a unity of idea. I mean, that
the human soul of Jesus Christ Mediator was
endowed with so much intelligence, that he
had the same ideas with God, that he formed
the same judgments, and that he possessed
the same infallibility. This truth had been
predicted of him by the prophets: "the Spirit
of the Lord God is upon me: because the Lord
hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto
the meek," Is. Ixi. 1. It was taught by Jesus
Christ himself: "my doctrine is not mine, but
his that sent me," John vii. 16. "I am the
light of the world: he that followeth me shall
not walk in darkness, but shall have the light
of life," John viii. 12. It is the foundation of
the faith which we have, in the truths which
flowed from his lips.

But however perfect this unity may have
been, it. was nevertheless susceptible of degrees.
Jesus Christ, considered as Mediator, never
could be in an error, but he did not always know
the whole truth. He had not in the cradle the
same extent of knowledge which he possessed,
at the age of " twelve years," Luke ii. 42;
when in the temple, he, by his profound know
ledge, excited astonishment in the most learned
of the doctors. Most probably, likewise, he
did not yet possess at the age of twelve years,
the illumination which he attained unto in the
sequel of his ministry. The evangelist ex
pressly remarks that " he grew, and waxed
strong in spirit, filled with wisdom," Luke ii.
40. Never did he attain during his abode on
earth that height of intelligence which he had,
after his ascension into heaven. It is expressly
said, that, as " the Son of man," he " knew
not the day" of judgment. The soul, to which
his mortal body was united, acquired, un
doubtedly, after that body left the tornb, an
extension of knowledge which it had not, so
long as the body to winch it was united was
yet in a mortal condition. This is the first
glory that Jesus Christ asks of his Father. He
prays that he would grant him to partake, in
a manner more intimate, in his counsels, and
to draw from the unbounded ocean of light
more abundant supplies of divine wisdom and
knowledge: " Father, the hour is come, glorify

thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee,"
ver. 1.

(2.) The second unity, subsisting between
Jesus Christ Mediator and the Father, is a
unity of will. Observe to what an extent it
has been carried. The incarnation was an
effect of the entire submission of this divine
Saviour to the will of his Father: " when he
cometh into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and
offering thou wouldst not, but a body hast
thou prepared me: in burnt-offerings and sa
crifices for sin thou hast had no pleasure: then
said I, Lo, I come (in the volume of the book
it is written of me,) to do thy will, O God,"
Heb. x. 5—7. When Joseph and Mary found
fault with him for having parted company
with them, he replied, "how is it that ye
sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about
my Father's business?" Luke ii. 49. When
his disciples presented him with food, " saying,
Master eat: he said unto them, I have meat
to eat that ye know not of: .... my meat is
to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish
his work," John iv. 31, &c.; and, in the text,
he says, that for the " sake" of the disciples
whom the Father had given him, he "sancti
fied himself."

It is, however, demonstrably certain, that in
proportion as the human soul acquires more
light and knowledge, according as it is less dis
tracted by the sinless infirmities of nature, it
takes the loftier flight towards the love of
order, and conceives a more powerful attach
ment to the sovereign will of Heaven. There
were certain moments in the life of Jesus
Christ, during his abode on earth, in which he
was entirely absorbed by those objects which
incessantly engage the attention of the angels
of God. He was led of the Spirit into the
wilderness; there " he fasted forty days and
forty nights," Matt. iv. 2; and these days and
nights were, undoubtedly, passed in contem
plation, in rapture, in an ecstacy of zeal and
fervour. But after these forty days and forty
nights were over, " he was afterwards an hun
gered."

In like manner, he beheld the glory of God
on the holy mountain, and the transfiguration
which he underwent, kindled to a higher and
a higher degree, the desire which he felt, to
discharge, in a manner worthy of his exalted
character, the commission which he had re
ceived of the Father. But those rays of glory
were to be eclipsed, and from that sacred place
he must descend. During the whole course
of his life, he kept constantly in view the end
of his mission, he expressed many an ardent
wish to accomplish the sacrifice which he came
into the world to offer up.

But at the idea of death he is for a season
in heaviness: there is an appearance of desir
ing, as it were, to compound matters with
Deity; and this, some interpreters consider as
the sense of these words: " Father, if it be
possible, let this cup pass from me, that I may
not drink it," Matt. xxvi. 39; and, perhaps, it
is likewise the sense of those which follow:
"n0w is my soul troubled: and what shall I
say? Father, save me from this hour," John
xii. 27. Not that Jesus Christ ever thought
he could be saved from that hour, or delivered
from drinking that cup which was going to

SER. LXXII.]

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

159

be put into his hand, but it was the language
of innocent human infirmity, excited by the
first ideas of extreme approaching agony. It
is only in the possession of perfect blessedness,
that our virtues shall acquire all the activity,
all the extent, of which they are susceptible.
And it is, yes, it is this activity, it is this ex
tent of virtue, which had the power of still
farther strengthening the hand which united
Jesus Christ to his Father. For this reason it
is that he promises to the glory of God, that
return and increase of glory which he asks of
him: " Father, glorify thy Son, that thy Son
also may glorify thee," ver. 1.

(3.) In the third place, there subsists be
tween the Father and the Son, a unity of do
minion. Magnificent displays of this were
visible even while our blessed Lord tabernacled
among men. Is the expression too strong, if
we say, that God Almighty, when he sent Je
sus Christ into the world, made him the de
positary of his omnipotence? The winds, the
waves, men, devils, life, death, the elements,
universal nature, all, all submitted to his sove
reign will.

But, if the power of Jesus Christ was un
bounded, as considered in itself, it was limited,
however, in its exercise. It was no easy
matter, to discover the depositary of the di
vine omnipotence in the person of that Man,
consigned over to the hands of executioners,
dragged before a tribunal of iniquity, and
nailed to a cross. There is a dominion, with
which it implies a contradiction to suppose
Jesus Christ invested before he suffered death,
for this dominion was to be expressly the re
ward of suffering: " he humbled himself, and
became obedient unto death, even the death
of the cross. Wherefore, God also hath high
ly exalted him, and given him a name which
is above every name; that at the name of Je
sus every knee should bow, of things in heaven,
and things in earth, and things under the
earth: and that every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God
the Father," Phil. ii. 8 — 11: and in the second
Psalm, ver. 8, 9, " Ask of me, and I will give
thce the heathen for thine inheritance, and the
uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron,
thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's
vessel,"

This is the dominion of which he took pos
session. On the third day after his death,
angels alight upon his tomb, not to effect his
resurrection from the dead, but to admire the
wonders of it; to render their profoundest
homage to that divine Man, the only dead
person who had ever revived by his own power;
and to yield obedience to that mandate of the
great Supreme: " let all the angels of God
worship him," Heb. i. 6. Forty days after his
resurrection, he makes a cloud to serve him as
a triumphal chariot, on which he is borne aloft,
and disappears from the eyes of his beloved
disciples. As he ascends through the regions
of the air, to occupy a throne above the skies,
the church triumphant, and all the spirits in
bliss, unite in celebrating his return to heaven,
with songs of praise: the celestial arches re
sound with their joyful acclamations, while
they cry aloud, " lift up your heads, O ye gates,

and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the
King of glory shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7.

On his arrival at the habitation of his glory,
he assumes his place at the Father's right
hand. And thence it is that he exercises the
dominion to which his sufferings and death
have exalted him: thence it is he beholds the
impotent designs of the enemies of the church,
and, to use the expression of Scripture, " laughs
at them," Ps. ii. 4. Thence it is he brings
down to the ground the heads of the haughtiest
potentates; thence it is he controls the power
of tyrants, or permits it to act, and to acdom-
plish his purpose; thence it is he bends his eyes
upon us, my brethren; that he hears, and re
gards, and answers the prayers which, in our
indigence, we present at the throne of grace;
thence it is he beholds St. Stephen, and grants
the petition of that martyr, from amidst the
shower of stones which is overwhelming him:
" Lord Jesus, receive my spirit," Acts vii. 59.
Thence it is he draws to himself the souls of
our expiring believers, and says to all those
who combat under the banner of the cross:
" To him that overcometh will I grant to sit
with me in my throne," Rev. iii. 21. "Be
thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a
crown of life," Rev. ii. 10.

Such is the glory which must follow the
sufferings and death of the Saviour of the
world. Such must be the perfection of that
unity which subsists between Jesus Christ the
Mediator and his Father: " Father, the hour
is come: glorify thy Son, that thy Son also
may glorify thee. ... I have manifested thy
name unto the men whom thou gavest me out
of the world. . . . Those that thou gavest me
I have kept, and none of them is lost but the son
of perdition. ... I have glorified thee on the
earth: I have finished the work which thou
gavest me to do: and now, O Father, glorify
thou me with thine own self, with the glory I
had with thee, before the world was."

SERMON LXXII.

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

PART II

JOHN xvii. 18 — 21

Jls thou hast sent me into the world, even so have
I also sent them into the "world. Jlnd for
their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also
might be sanctified through the truth. Neither
pray I for these alone, but for them also which
shall believe on me through their word: that
they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me,
and I in thee, that they also may be one in us:
that the world may believe that thou hast sent
me.

WE have seen the relation which subsists
between Jesus Christ and his heavenly Father.
1. A relation of nature, implied in that " glory
which he had with the Father before the world
was." 2. There is a relation of economy:
Jesus Christ as Mediator is " one with God."
And this relation consists of three particulars:
1. Unity of idea: 2. Unity of will: 3. Unity of
dominion. Let us,

160

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

[SER. LXXII

II. Consider the relation subsisting between
Jesus Christ and his apostles, not in their cha
racter simply, of believers in Christ, but prin
cipally in the view of their public character as
apostles. Let us inquire, in what sense it is
that Jesus Christ makes it his request, that
they may be one, with the Father and with
himself, as he was one with the Father. This
is the second object, this the second mystery,
to which we now call upon you to direct your
serious attention.

Weigh the import of these remarkable
words: " As thou hast sent me into the world,
even so have I also sent them into the world:
and for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they
also might be sanctified through the truth."
Jesus Christ had entered into the plan of the
eternal Father, respecting the salvation of the
human race; and had come into the world to
put it in execution. It was necessary, in like
manner, that the apostles should enter into
the plan of this divine Saviour, and to the
utmost extent of their ability, should labour,
together with him, in executing the merciful
design. And as Jesus Christ, in order to ac
quit himself, with success, of this ministry
which was committed unto him, must have
possessed, with the Father, a unity of idea, of
will, and of dominion, it was likewise neces
sary that the apostles should possess this three
fold unity with Jesus Christ, and this precisely
is the substance of what Jesus Christ prays for
in their behalf.

1. In order to acquit themselves successfully
of the functions of their ministry, it was ne
cessary that the apostles should participate in
the ideas of Jesus Christ, and in the infalli
bility of his doctrine. He had himself said to
them, " He that heareth you heareth me,"
Luke x. 16. He had given them this com
mission: " Go ye, and teach all nations, bap
tizing them in the name of the Father, of the
Son, and of the Holy Spirit: and, lo, I am
with you, always, even to the end of the
world," Matt, xxviii. 19, 20.

How could they possibly have" executed
this commission to any advantage, unless they
had participated in the ideas of Jesus Christ,
and in the infallibility of his decisions? What
dependance could we repose on their testi
mony had it been liable to error? How should
We implicitly admit the oracles which emanat
ed from the apostolic college, if they were to
be subjected to examination at the tribunal of
human reason, as those of mere human teach
ers? The slightest alteration affecting the as
sertion of the infallibility of the doctrine of
these holy men, subverts it from the very
foundation. The moment that human reason
assumes a right to appeal from their decisions,
it is all over, and we are at once brought back
to the religion of nature. And the moment
we are brought back to the religion of nature,
we are bewildered in all the uncertainty of the
human understanding; we are still "seeking
the Lord, if haply we might feel after him and
find him," Acts xvii. 27, as did the Pagan
world. We are still saving, as did the greatest
philosophers of the gentile nations, respecting
inquiries of the highest importance to man
kind; Who can iell? Peradventure. We are

treating St. Peter and St. Paul, as we do So
crates and Seneca.

Now, if such be our condition, what advan
tage has the Christian over the pagan? Where
in consists the superiority of the gospel over
the systems of mere human philosophy? Away
with a suspicion so injurious to the great Au
thor and Finisher of our faith. He has sup
plied his church with every thing necessary to
a clear knowledge, and a well grounded be
lief of all needful truth. When he committed
to the hands of his disciples the ministry of his
gospel, he obtained for them, in substance, the
illumination which himself possessed, for the
successful exercise of it.

2. But is it sufficient to possess superior il
lumination, in order to the honourable and
useful exercise of the Christian ministry? Is
it sufficient to "speak with the tongues of men
and of angels?" Is it sufficient to be endowed
with the "gift of prophecy: to understand all
mysteries, to have all knowledge?" 1 Cor. xiii.
1. Ah! how fruitless are the most pathetic
sermons, if the preacher himself pretends to
exemption from the obligations which he
would impose upon other men! Ah! how
the most dazzling and sublime eloquence lan
guishes, when tarnished by the vices of the
orator! This position, my brethren, admits
not of a doubt: and let the reflection, however
humiliating, be ever present to our thoughts:
one of the most insurmountable obstacles to
the efficacy of preaching, is the irregular lives
of preachers.

If this reflection, at all times, rests on a solid
foundation, it was particularly the case with
regard to those ministers whom God set apart
to the office of laying the very first founda
tions of his church, and to be themselves " the
pillar and ground of the truth," 1 Tim. iii. 15
With what dreadful suspicions must not our
minds have been perplexed, had we seen in
the persons whom Jesus Christ himself im
mediately chose to be his successors, the abo
minations which are visible in many of those
who, at this day, pretend to fill his place in
the church? What dreadful suspicions would
agitate our minds, had St. Peter lived in the
manner of some of those who have called
themselves the successors of St. Peter? If out
of the same mouth, from which issued those
gracious maxims which the Holy Spirit has
preserved for our instruction, there had pro
ceeded, at the same time, those iniquitous sen
tences, those sanguinary decrees, those insolent
decisions, which have fulminated from the
mouths of certain pontiffs bearing the Chris
tian name? If these same apostles, who preach
ed nothing but superiority to the world, no
thing but humility, but charity, but patience,
but chastity, had been, like some of their pre
tended successors, addicted to the spirit and
practice of revenge, of ambition, of simony;
magicians, fornicators; men polluted with
abominations which the majesty of this place,
and the sanctity of the pulpit, hardly permit
me to insinuate? What must not have been
the infamy of committing such things, when
the bare idea of them puts modesty to the
blush?

O how much better has Jesus Christ, our

SER. LXXIL]

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

161

great leader and commander, provided what
ever was necessary for the good of his church
During the whole course of his life, he pre
sented a model of the most pure and consum
mate virtue. One of the great ends of his de-
votedness to death, was to engage his belovec
disciples thence to derive motives to the prac
tice of holiness; this is the sense which may
oe assigned to that expression in the prayer,
which he here addresses to his Father: " For
their sakes I sanctify myself, that they may be
sanctified," ver. 19. " For them I sanctify my
self:" the meaning may be, " I labour inces
santly to excite thy love within me to a bright
er and a brighter flarne, not only because it is
a disposition of soul the most becoming an in
telligent creature, but that I may serve as a
model to them who are to diffuse the know
ledge of my gospel over the world."

Or, according to the interpretation of others,
" for them I sanctify myself, that they may be
sanctified," that is, " I devote myself to death
for my disciples, to the end that, beholding in
my sacrifice the horrors of sin, which I am
about to expiate, and the overflowings of my
affection for those in whose place I am sub
stituting myself, they may be engaged to ex
hibit an inviolable attachment to thy holy
laws." Which ever of these two senses we af
fix to the words of our blessed Lord, they
strongly mark that intense application of
thought by which he was animated, to insp/re
his disciples with the love of virtue.

This is not all, he is expressing an earnest
wish, that assistance from Heaven might sup
ply what his absence was going to deprive
them of: " For them I sanctify myself, that
they may be sanctified." But now I leave the
world. My disciples are going to lose the be
nefit of my instructions, and of my example.
May a celestial energy, may divine communi
cations of resolution and strength occupy my
place: " I pray not thou shouldst take them
out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep

them from the evil Sanctify them

through thy truth: thy word is truth: as thou
hast sent me into Uie world, even so have I
also sent them into the world; and for their
sakes J sanctify myseJf, that they also might
be sanctified through the truth."

5. Finally, Jesus Christ asks, in behalf of
his disciples, a participation in the dominion of
which he himself had taken possession. He
had already, in part conveyed to them that
dominion: " The glory which thou gavest
me, I have given them; that they may be
one, even as we are one," ver. 22. What is
that glory, which the Father had given to Jesus
Christ, and which Jesus Christ had given to
his apostles? Among a variety of ideas which
may be formed of it, we must, in a particular
manner, understand it as implying the gift of
miracles. In virtue of this power, those sa
cred ministers were enabled to carry convic
tion to the human mind, with an energy of
eloquence altogether divine. The resurrection
of one who had been dead is the great exor
dium of their sermons. This argument they
oppose to all the sophisms of vain philosophy:
" This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we
all are witnesses; therefore being by the right

of God exalted he hath shed

VOL. II.— 21

forth this which ye now see and hear," Acts
ii. 32, 33. They confound those who continue
proof against conviction. They call down the
most formidable strokes of celestial indigna
tion on some of those who had dared to trifle
with the oath of fidelity plighted to their di
vine Master. Ananias and Sapphira fall dead
at their feet, Acts v. 9. " The weapons of
our warfare are not carnal, but mighty, through
God, to the pulling down of strong holds, cast
ing down imaginations, and every high thing
that exalteth itself against the knowledge of
God, and bringing into captivity every thought
to the obedience of Christ: and having in a
readiness to revenge all disobedience," 2 Cor.
x. 4—6.

But this is not the whole of that authority,
and the whole of that power, which. Jesus
Christ wishes to be conferred on his disciples.
He asks, in their behalf, that when they had,
like him, finished the work which they* had
given them to do, they should be exalted to the
same glory; that after having " turned many
to righteousness," they might "shine as the
brightness o/" the firmament, and as the stars
for ever and ever," Dan. xii. 3. This is what
he had promised them: " I appoint unto you a
kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto
me, that ye may eat and drink at my table in
my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the
twelve tribes of Israel." This is what he asks
for them: " Father, I will that they also whom
thou hast given me be with me where I am;
that they may behold my glory which thou hast
given rne: for thou lovedst me before the foun
dation of the world .... that they all may
je one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in
hee: that they also may be one in us," ver.
24. 21.

We conclude this head with a reflection of
no small importance: namely this, that among
,he graces which Jesus Christ prays for in be-
lalf of his apostles, must be comprehended those
which were necessary to the persons who were
after them to exercise the gospel ministry.
Whatever difference there may be between
,hese two orders of ministers, they are the ob-
ects of the same prayer. Their talents were
o differ only in degree, and God, at this day,
imits the measure of them, only because cir
cumstances have varied, and miracles are no
onger necessary to the church. But as the
apostles had, in substance, the same gifts with
Fesus Christ, the ministers of the gospel like
wise partake in the gifts of the apostles, because
hey have received the same commission, and
are called to build up the church, of which those
loly men laid the foundations.

Lofty idea of the apostleship! lofty idea of
.he office of the gospel ministry! The apostles
entered with Jesus Christ into the plan of the
redemption of mankind, as Jesus Christ entered
nto it with God. And the ministers of the
gospel, to this day, enter into the same plan
with the apostles, as the apostles entered into
t with Jesus Christ. The eternal Father,
' before the foundation of the world," Matt,
xxv. 34, foreseeing the deplorable misery in
which the wretched progeny of Adam were to

* The French reads, qu'il leur donne a faire, which he
had given them to do. I. S.

162

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

LXX1I.

involve themselves, traced the plan of redemp
tion: from that period he provided the victim:
from that period he set apart for us a Redeemer:
from that period, he prepared for us a kingdom.
Jesus Christ, in the fulness of time, came and
executed this plan. He assumed our flesh.
He lived among us. He suffered. He died.
" I have glorified thee upon the earth. I have
finished the work which thou gavest me to do,"
ver. 4.

The apostles succeeded their Master. And
these holy men, with that heroic courage which
the idea of a commission so honourable inspires
into generous minds, braved and surmounted
all the difficulties which opposed their progress.
*' They trod upon the lion and adder: the young
lion and dragon they trampled under feet," Ps.
xci. 13. " Power was given them to tread on
serpents and scorpions, and over all the power
of tne enemy," Luke x. 19. They took as a
model in their course (it is an idea of the psalm
ist,) that glorious orb of day, whose " going
forth is from the end of the heaven, and his
circuit unto the ends of it," Ps. xix. 6. " Yes,
verily, their sound went into all the earth, and
their words unto the ends of the world," Rom.
x. 18. They rose superior to the powers of
sense and nature: they subdued the passions
which have naturally the greatest influence
over the heart of man: they " knew no mail
after the flesh," 2 Cor. v. 16. They carried on
their souls the impress of their Saviour's vir
tues, as they bare his marks imprinted on their
bodies.

The ministers of Jesus Christ assume the
place of the apostles: they have one and the
same vocation: they are called to the same
work: they have to teach the same truths; the
same vices to reprove; the same maxims to
establish; the same threatenings to denounce;
the same consolations to administer; the same
felicity and the same glory to promise. "Who
is sufficient for these things?" 2 Cor. ii. 1 6. But
we are upheld by you, all-powerful intercession
of Jesus Christ with his Father! From your
energy it is that we obtain, in our retirement,
that attention, that composure, that conceit-
tration of thought of which we stand in need,
in order to penetrate into those lively oracles
which it is our duty to announce to this people.
From your powerful energy it is we obtain that
clearness, that fervour, that courage, that ele
vation of spirit of which we stand in need in
this chair of verity, to exalt us above the ma
lignant censure of a murmuring multitude, ever
disposed to find fault with those who preach the
truth. To you we must stand for ever indebted
for the success of our ministry, and for the hope
we entertain that this people, to whom we mi
nister in holy things, shall one day be " our joy
and our crown," 1 Thess. ii. 19.

III. Thus are we led forward, my brethren,
to the third division of our discourse, in which
you are most particularly interested. It is truly
delightful to behold " the Author and Finisher
of our faith" united, in a manner so intimate
with the Deity. It is delightful to behold those
apostles, whose writings are in our hands, and
whose doctrine is the rule of our faith, inti
mately united to Jesus Christ as he is with God
There is, however, something behind still more
particular and more consolatory. All these

different relations, of Jesus Christ with God,
of the apostles with Jesus Christ, have been
formed only in the view of producing others,
and these affect you. Attend to the interest
which you have in the prayer of Jesus Christ:
"Neither pray I for these alone, but for them
also which shall believe on me through their
word: that they all may be one, as thou, Father,
art in me, and I in thee; that they also may be
one in us," ver. 20, 21.

Awake to a sense of the dignity of your high
calling, contemplate the unbounded extent of
your privileges. Behold to what a height of
glory you are encouraged to aspire, and what
unspeakable benefits you already derive from
the religion of the blessed Jesus! Already you
possess with God, as does Jesus Christ, a unity
of ideas, and you partake, in some sense, of his
infallibility, by subjecting your faith to his di
vine oracles, and by seeing, if I rnay use the
expression, by seeing with his eyes. Already
you have with God, as Jesus Christ has, a unity
of will, by the reception of his laws, and by
exerting all your powers, that his will may be
done on earth as it is done in heaven. Already
you enjoy with God, as does Jesus Christ, a
unity of dominion: "all things are yours; whe
ther Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world,
or life, or death," 1 Cor. iii. 21, 22. "You
are already partakers of a divine nature," 1
Pet. i. 4. " You are already transformed into
the same image, from glory to glory, even as
by the spirit of the Lord," 2 Cor. iii. 18.

Bui how is this union still marred and in
terrupted! How imperfect still this "participa
tion of the divine nature" and this "trans
formation inlo the same image!" Let this be
to us, my brethren, a source of humiliation, but
not of dejection. A more glorious state of
things is to succeed the present: " it doth not
yet appear what we stall be; but we know that
when he shall appear we shall be like him; for
we shall see him as he is." 1 John iii. 2. A
new influx of light with which the soul shall be
replenished, a new influx of divine love with
which the heart shall be inflamed, a new influx
of felicity and delight with which tbe immortal
nature shall be inundated, are going, ere long,
to place in its brightest point of view, all the
sublimity, all the excellency of our condition.
" Father, I pray not for rny disciples alone, but
for them also who shall believe in me through
their word: that they all may be one; as thou
Father, art in me, and I in thee; that they also
may be one in us."

But how is it possible for the miserable pos
terity of Adam, how is it possible for wretched
creatures born in sin, how is it possible for frail
mortals, a compound of dust and ashes, "that
dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in
the dust, which are crushed before the moth,"
Job iv. 19, how is it possible for beings so mean,
so degraded, to become " one" with God, as
Jesus Christ is "one" with him?

Away, Christians, away with every shade of
incredulity. Nothing is too great for this pray
er to procure. There is nothing that God can
deny to this dying' Intercessor. Let the mind
be filled to its utmost capacity, with all that is
vast and affecting in the sacrifice which Jesus
Christ was about to present to his Father.
Consider that " God is love," 1 John iv. 16.

SER. LXXII.]

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

163

And what could the God who is " love" refuse
to the Redeemer of the world, at the momen
when he was going to devote himself, with such
ardour of affection, for the salvation of man
kind? Behold him the Redeemer of a lost
world, behold him ready to affix the seal to the
great work which God had committed to him
behold him prepared to be " led as a lamb to
the slaughter, and as a sheep, dumb before her
shearers," Isa. liii. 7; behold him prepared to
undergo that punishment, the bare idea of
which makes nature shudder: behold him pre
pared to enter into " the deep mire where there
is no standing," of which the prophets speak,
Ps. Ixix. 2, and all this out of that love, and all
this from that principle of charity which glowed
m his compassionate breast.

At that moment of love, at that moment
which embraces an eternity — pardon me the
expression, my friends, and condemn me not,
if in a subject which has nothing human, I am
constrained to employ modes of speech which
are not in common use among men — at that
moment which embraces a whole eternity,
when charity was carried as far as it could go,
this Redeemer presents himself before the God
of love, and asks of him, that in virtue of this
sacrifice of love, which he is going to offer up,
all the faithful, this people, you, my dearly be
loved brethren, you might be crowned with the
felicity and with the glory with which he him
self was to be crowned; but to which, love would
have rendered him insensible, had he not pro
mised himself to communicate them, one day,
to men, the objects of his tenderest affection.

O mysteries of redemption, how far you
transcend all expression, all thought! Ye an
gels of light, who live in the bosom of glory,
turn aside your eyc-s from beholding wonders
which dazzle the heaven of heavens: bend lowly
over the mystical ark, and search it to the bot
tom. And you, for whom all these wonders
are wrought, children of fallen Adam, bow
down in gratitude and adoration, and measure,
if you can, the dimensions, " the length, the
breadth, the height, the depth, of that abyss
which passeth knowledge," Eph. iii. 18, 19.

My brethren, there is an air of credulity and
superstition in what passes between a dying
person, and a minister who is endeavouring to
fortify him against the fears of death. The
minister has the appearance of an impostor, and
the dying person of a visionary. We promise
to a man extended on a sick bed, to a man who
is in a few days to be shut up in a tomb, and
to become a prey to worms, we promise him an
eternal abode, and rivers of pleasures: we assure
him that he is the favourite of heaven, at the
very moment when he is going to become the
abhorrence of the earth, at the very moment
when corruption and rottenness are hastening
to put to flight from his person his most affec
tionate friends. These pretensions are, how
ever, incontestable. They aie founded on the
charitable prayers which the Redeemer of men
addressed to the God of love, at the titne when
he himself was perfected in love: "I have glo
rified thee on the earth: I have finished the
work which thou gavest me to do," and I am
going to seal with my blood that awful ministry
whicli thou hast committed unto me. Grant
to my obedience, grant to the prayers and to

the blood of thy expiring Son, that which is
most capable of supporting him amidst those
fearful objects with which he is surrounded; it
is the salvation of that world of believers, who
are to embrace my doctrine: " Father, I will
that where I am, those whom thou hast given
me may may be there also with me, that they
may behold my glory: and I pray not for them
only, but also for those who shall believe in
thee through their word."

These prayers, my brethren, are still pre
sented. Jesus Christ is still doing in heaven,
what, in the days of his flesh, he did upon earth:
he is " even at the right hand of God," where
he still " rnaketh intercession for us," Rom.
viii. 34. He is still " able to save them to the
uttermost, that come unto God by him, seeing
he ever liveth to make intercession for them,"
Heb. vii. 25. But do we avail ourselves of
these prayers? But are we seconding this inter
cession? Alas! I was preparing to set open to
you all the treasures of consolation which we
see issuing from a dying Saviour's prayers.
But I find, in that prayer, one word which stops
me short; one word which terrifies me; one
word which suggests an inquiry that awakens
a thousand solicitudes: are we in the class of
those for whom Jesus Christ prayed to the Fa
ther; or are we of those for whom, he tells us,
he prayed not? Does it contain the sentence
of our absolution; or that of our eternal con
demnation? You have heard this word; but
have you seriously weighed its import? Have
you listened to it with that composure, and
with that application which it demanda? The
word is this: " I pray not for the world; I pray
for those whom thou hast given me," ver. 9.
My disciples for whom I pray to thee, " are not
of the world, even as I am not of the world,"
ver. 14.

We frame for ourselves a' morality that suits
our own fancy. We look upon a worldly spirit
as a matter of trivial importance, which it is
scarcely worth while to think of correcting. A
preacher who should take upon him to condemn
this disposition of mind, wouW pass for a mere
declaimer, who abused the liberty given him,
of talking alone from the pulpit. A worldly
life, wasted in dissipation, in pleasure, at play,
at public spectacles, has nothing terrifying in
our eyes. But be pZeased to learn from Jesus
Christ whether or not a worldly spirit be a tri
vial matter. But learn of Jesus Christ what
are the fatal effects of a worldly mind. It is an
exclusion from the glorious catalogue of those
[or whom Jesus Christ intercedes. It destroys
the right of pretending to those blessings which
;he Saviour requests in behalf of his church:
' J pray not for the world; I pray for them
whom thou hast given me." My disciples, for
whom I pray to thee, "are not of the world,
even as I am not of the world."

Would you wish to know whether Jesus
Dhrist is an intercessor for you? Would you
vish to know whether you are of the number
)f them who shall, one day, be where Jesus
Christ is? See whether you can distinguish
yourself by this character, " they are not of the
vorld, even as I am not of the world." And
what is it not to be of the world?

Not to be of the world, is not to live in de
serts and in solitudes: it is not for a man to bury

164

CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER.

. LXXII,

himself before he is dead, and to pass his life as
it were in a tomb. Jesus Christ and his apos
tles lived in society; but they sanctified society
by useful instruction and by a holy example;
but they were the light of the world, and if they
mingled " in the midst of a crooked and per
verse nation," they were " blameless and harm
less, and without rebuke;" and shone among
them.

Not to be of the world, is not to abandon the
reins of government to ruffians. Jesus Christ
and his apostles permitted Christians to occupy
the most distinguished stations in society; but
it was their wish and endeavour, that while they
filled such stations, they should guard against
the illusions of their own lustre: that they
should not imagine themselves exalted to ter
restrial greatness merely to display their own
vain self-importance, but that they should ever
keep in view the necessities of those whose hap
piness is intrusted to their care.

Not to be of the world, is not to break off all
relation with the world, to be always absorbed
in meditation, in contemplation, in ecstacies.
No, religion is adapted to the various relations
of human life; to fathers, to children, to mas
ters, to servants.

But not to be of the world, is never to lose
sight, even in the distraction of worldly con
cerns, of the end which God proposed to him
self, when he placed us in the world: it is con
stantly to recollect that we have a soul to be
saved; an account to render; a hell to shun; a
heaven to gain: it is habitually to direct, towards
these great objects, the edge of our spirit., the
vivacity of our passions, the ardour of our de
sires: it is to be able to say, at the close of life,
with Jesus Christ, as far as the infinite distance
between the sanctity of this divine Saviour and
ours can permit: " Father, I have glorified thee
on the earth, I have finished the work which
thou gavest me to do. I have fought the good
fight; I have kept the faith," 2 Tim. iv. 7. Wo
be to the man who, at that fatal period, shall
be reduced to the necessity of holding an op
posite language, and of saying, " Scarcely have
I, as yel, put my hand to the works which thou<<
gavest me to do. Scarcely have I employed an
instant of my time in meditating on eternity."
Wo be to the man who shall then have cause
to say: and ah! how many such are there, under
the name of Christians! I have employed part
of my life in cultivating my estate, in swelling
my revenue, in "pulling down my barns and
building greater," Luke xii. 18. I have de
voted another part to the delights of a present
life, to refinement in pleasure. A third has
been employed in gratifying the most criminal
appetites, in vomiting out blasphemy against
my Benefactor, in waging war with religion,
morals, and common decency, in scandalizing
the church of God by my impurities and excess.
Let us not be ingenious in practising illusion
upon ourselves. Let us not amuse ourselves
with unprofitable speculations respecting the
meaning of these words, "I pray not for the
world." What bold and rash researches have
the schools pursued on the subject of this saying
of Christ' What chimerical consequences have
not been deduced from it? But from these I
must still revert to this grand principle: Are
you of the world, or are you not of the world?

" Say not in thine heart, Who shall ascend into
heaven? or, Who shall descend into the deep?
the word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and
in thy heart," Rom. x. 6—8. " The friendship
of the world is enmity with God," James iv. 4.
If you are of the world, you are not of the num
ber of those for whom Jesus Christ pleads. If
you are not of the world, you are within the
decree of his election: he has interceded for you,
and you are warranted to expect all the fruits
of his intercession. •

These reflections will probably excite, in
some, many a painful apprehension, amounting
to a conviction that you are in the dreadful clas?
of those for whom Christ intercedes not. But
if it be high time to renounce this world, by
acts of penitence, of mortification, of a sincere
return unto God, let us proportion these acts
to the degree of criminality which renders them
necessary. The love of the world has inspired
a taste for voluptuousness: let us deny ourselves
by a course of abstinence, during the passion
weeks, even from what is necessary to nature.
The love of the world has transported us into
excesses of worldly joy: let us clothe ourselves
in sackcloth and ashes, during the passion
weeks, or rather let us present unto God the
"sacrifice of a broken and contrite heart," Ps.
li. 19. Let us make extraordinary efforts to
disarm his wrath, ever enkindled against the
abominations of the Christian world. Let us
say to him a thousand and a thousand times-,
as we turn our eyes towards the cross of Jesus
Christ: " O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto
thee, but unto us confusion of faces:" Dan. ix.
7. Let us entreat him by those bowels of love
which prompted him to restore a fallen world,
that he would disunite us from the creature,
and unite us to himself.

If we act in this manner, we have every thing
to expect from a God whose great leading cha
racter is love. He will take pity on this
wretched people. He will have compassion on
these miserable provinces, in which it seerns ap
if every individual had undertaken the task of
shutting his own eyes, in order to precipitate
himself, with the greater indifference, into the
abyss which is gaping to swallow us up: he will
repress those sea-piracies which have reduced
so many families, and impaired the general
commerce: he will remove those dreadful
plagues which have ruined so many respectable
communities as well as individuals: he will stop
those fearful inundations which have already
committed such devastation in the midst of us,
and which still occasion so many well-grounded
alarms: he will reconcile the hearts of the po
tentates of Europe, and engage them to use
their united efforts to promote the happiness and
the glory of the Christian world.

Much more, if we are not of the world, we
shall partake of delights which the world knows
not of, and which it cannot take from us, as it
cannot bestow. If we are not of the world, we
shall have cause of self-gratulation, with our
divine Master, that we are not like those des
perate madmen who seem resolutely bent on
mutual and self-destruction; and in these senti
ments shall thus address ourselves to God: "O
righteous Father, the world hath not known
thee: but I have known thee," vcr. 25. If we
are not of the world, we shall be animated with

SER. LXXIIL]

THE CRUCIFIXION.

165

a holy intrepidity, when death takes us out of
the world, nay, when the world and its founda
tions crumble into dust beneath our feet.

We shall be filled with joy unspeakable when
we reflect, that we are leaving a world of which
we were not, to go to that of which we are
citizens. We shall say, amidst the tears and
lamentations of a last adieu: " It is true, my
dear children, it is true my dear friends, I leave
you upon the earth: but my Jesus is in heaven,
and I go to be where he is: " having a desirejo
depart, and to be with Christ, which is far bet
ter," Phil. i. 23; it is true, I tear myself from
you, and it is like tearing me from myself; but
this mournful, is not an everlasting separation.
Jesus Christ has prayed equally for you and for
me. He has asked for me and for you, that
we should all be " where he is, that we may all
be one in him and with the Father:" and I only
go before you a few instants into this state of
blessedness.

Ah! God grant, that after having preached
the gospel to you, we may be enabled to say,
with Jesus Christ, at our dying hour; " Father,
those that thou gavest me 1 have kept> and
none of them is lost!" ver. 12. God grant that
there may be no "son of perdition" in this as
sembly! May God vouchsafe to hearken to the
prayer which we present in your behalf, in this
place, and which we shall present to him on a
dying bed: or rather may God vouchsafe to hear
the prayer which Jesus Christ presents for us:
" Father, I will that they whom thou hast given
me, be with me where I am; that they may be
hold my glory!" Amen. To the Father, to
the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, be honour and
glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXIIL

THE CRUCIFIXION.

PART I.

MATTHEW xxvii. 45 — 53.
•/Vote from the sixth hour there was darkness
over all the land unto the ninth hour. Jlnd
about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud
voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that
is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me? Some of them that stood there,
when they heard that, said, This man calleth
for Elias. Jlnd straightway one of them ran,
and took a sponge, and Jilled it with vinegar,
and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.
The rest said, Let be, let us see whether Elias
will come to save him. Jesus, when he had
cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the
ghost. Jlnd, behold, the veil of the temple
was rent in twain from the top to the bottom:
and the earth did quake; and the rocks rent;
and the graves were opened; and many bodies
of saints which slept, arose, and came out of
the graves after his resurrection, and went into
the holy city, and appeared unto many.
WE are going to set before you this day,
my Christian friends, the concluding scene of
the most dreadful spectacle that ever the sun
beheld- On beholding the order, the prepa
rations, and the approaching completion of the

sacrifice of Isaac, the soul is thrown into as
tonishment. A father binding his own son
with cords, extending him upon a funeral pile,
raising up an armed right hand to pierce his
bosom; and all this by the command of Hea
ven! What a prodigy! At such a sight reason
murmurs, faith is staggered, and Providence
seems to labour under an indelible imputation.
But a seasonable and happy interposition dis
sipates all this darkness. An angel descends
from heaven, a voice pierces the yielding air:
" Abraham, Abraham, lay not thy hand upon
the lad: for now I know that thou fearest God,
seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son from me," Gen. xxii. 12. And this
revolution silences the murmurings of reason,
re-establishes our faith, and vindicates the ways
of Providence.

A greater than Isaac, my brethren, a greater
than Abraham is here. This sacrifice must be
completed; this victim must die; this burnt-
offering must be reduced to ashes. In the
preceding chapter you have seen the command
given, the scaffold erected, the arm extended
to smite the devoted Jesus. You are going to
behold him expire; no victim substituted in
his room; no revocation of the decree; and in
stead of inquiring like Isaac, " Behold the fire
and the wood; but where is the lamb for a
burnt-offering?" ver. 7, he says, " Lo, I come;
. ... to do thy will, O my God," Ps. xl. 7,
8. Jesus expires: the dead leave their tombs:
the sun withdraws his light: nature is convuls
ed at the sight of her Creator dying upon a
cross. And the Son of God's love, before he
utters his last sigh, gives a free course to his
complaints, and makes an astonished world
re-echo those mournful sounds: " My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me?" ver. 46.

And you, Christians, what are you to be
come, at beholding this spectacle; and what
effects are these objects to produce, that shall
be in any proportion to their magnitude? With
whatever success our happiest addresses to you
may be crowned, your actions must ever fall
far short of your obligations and engagements.
It is possible, however, that on certain points,
we may have commendation only to bestow.
When restitution is the theme, some one per
haps conscience-struck, some Zaccheus is in
duced to restore four fold. When the doctrine
of forgiveness and reconciliation is preached,
some one, smitten to the heart, is, it may be,
disposed to open his arms to an estranged bro
ther. But what fruit can this discourse pro
duce, capable of, I do not say, fulfilling yeur
obligations, but that shall bear any manner of
proportion to them? Were your hearts, hence
forward, to burn with the purest and most ar
dent affection; were your eyes to become a
living fountain of tears: were every particle of
your frame to serve as a several victim to peni
tence; were this vaulted roof to cleave asunder;
were the dead, deposited in these tombs, to
start up into life: what would there be in all
this that is not absorbed by the objects which
we are going to display?

Come and clothe yourselves in mourning
with the rest of nature. Come, with the cen
turion, and recognise your Redeemer and your
God; and let the sentiments which severally
occupy all these hearts and minds unite in this

166

THE CRUCIFIXION.

. LXXIIL

one: " I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless
I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and
the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by
the faith of the Son of God, who loved me,
and gave himself for me,'1 Gal. ii. 20. Amen.

That you may derive from the words which
we have read, the fruit which the Holy Spirit
presents to us in them, we shall, 1. Attempt
some elucidation of the letter of the text: and
then, 2. Endeavour to penetrate into the spirit
of it, and dive to the bottom of the mysteries
which it contains.

I. We begin with attempting some elucida
tion of the letter of the text.

1. Our first remark turns on the time which
the evangelist assigns to the first events which
he is here relating: " from the sixth hour,"
says he, " there was darkness unto the ninth
hour: and about the ninth hour Jesus cried
with a loud voice," and so on. Respecting
which, it is to be observed, that the Jews com
puted the hours of the day from sun-rising.
The first from sun-rising was called one hour,
the second two, and so of the rest: " from the
sixth hour to the ninth hour;" in other words,
from noon till three of the clock afternoon.

But what merits a more particular attention
is this, that the evangelists appear here to vary
in their testimony; at least St. Mark tells us,
chap. xv. 25, that part of the events which the
other evangelists say took place about the ninth
hour, happened at the third hour. A single
remark will resolve this difficulty. The Jews
employed another method in computing time,
beside.s that which we have indicated. They
divided the day into four intervals. The first
comprehended the space from the first to the
third hour of the day inclusively: the second
from the end of the third hour of the day to
the sixth: and so of the rest. This mode of
computation, if certain doctors are to be cre
dited, took its rise from the custom which was
observed in the temple, of presenting prayers
and sacrifices at the third, the sixth, and the
ninth hour. Now the Jews sometimes deno
minated the whole of this first interval, which
contained three hours of the day, one hour, or,
the first hour. The second interval they de
nominated two, or the second hour, which con
tained the second three hours, and so of the
rest. This remark solves the apparent diffi
culty which we pointed out. Some of the
evangelists have followed the first mode of
computation, and others have adopted the se
cond. The ninth hour in the style of St. Mat
thew, and the third hour in the style of St.
Mark, denote one and the same season of the
day; because the one computes the hours elaps
ed from sun-rising, and the other that third in
terval of three hours which commenced pre
cisely at the ninth hour.

2. Our second remark will lead us into an
examination of certain questions started, rela
tive to the prodigies recorded by our evange
lists. It is said,

1. That "there was darkness over all the
land." It appears from astronomical calcula
tion, and from the very nature of solar eclips
es, which are occasioned by the interposition
of the body of the moon between us and the
orb of day, which can take place only at the
change, whereas it was then at the full, being

the fourteenth day of the month of March; it
appears. I say, from these considerations, that
this darkness was not an eclipse properly so
called, but an obscuration effected by a special
interference of Providence, which we are un
able clearly to explain.

If we are incapable of assigning the cause,
we are equally incapable of determining the
extent of this wonderful appearance. The ex
pression in the original, " there was darkness
o/er all the land," or, according to St. Luke's
phraseology, " over all the earth," chap, xxiii.
44, which presents at first to the mind an idea
of the whole globe, is frequently restricted in
Scripture, sometimes to the land of Judea,
sometimes to the whole Roman empire; and
this ambiguity, joined to the silence of the sa
cred historians, renders it impossible for us to
decide whether the darkness overspread the
land of Judea only, or involved all the rest of
our hemisphere.

Neither do we deem it of importance to
dwell on an examination of the monuments
supposed to be (bund in antiquity respecting
the truth of the prodigy of which we have been
speaking. Among those which are transmit
ted to us on this subject, there is one which
bears visible marks of forgery. I speak of the
testimony of Dionysius, falsely denominated
the Areopagite, who affirms that he himself
saw, in Egypt, the darkness mentioned by the
evangelists, which drew from him this excla
mation: " Assuredly either the God of nature
is suffering, or the frame of the universe is
going to be destroyed."* The learned have so
clearly demonstrated that the author of this
book is an impostor, who, though he did not
live till the fourth century, would neverthe
less pass for the Dionysius who was converted
to Christianity, by the preaching of St. Paul
on Mars-hill, Acts xvii. 34, that this author/
transfixed with a thousand wounds, is fallen,
never to rise again.

Much more dependence is, undoubtedly, to
be placed on what is said by Phlegon, surnam-
ed the Trallian, the emperor Adrian's freed-
man. He had composed a history of the Olym
piads, some fragments only of which have
reached us: but Eusebius the historian has
preserved the following passage from it:j " In
the fourth year of the two hundred and second
Olympiad, there was an eclipse of the sun,
much greater than any one which had ever
before been observed. The night was so dark
at noon-day that the stars were perceptible,
and there were such violent earthquakes in
Bithynia, that the greatest part of the city of
Nicea was swallowed up by it." These are the
words of Eusebius: but the inquiries to which
they might lead could not be prosecuted in an
exercise like the present, and they would en
croach on that time which we destine to sub
jects of much higher importance.

2. The evangelists tell us in the second
place, that " the veil of the temple was rent in
twain, from the top to the bottom." There
were two veils in the temple at Jerusalem;
that which was suspended over the door that

* Dionys. Areopag. torn. ii. p. 91. and Aiinot. Gorder.
p. 33. and 102. Edit. Antwerp, 1634.

f Euscb. Pamph. Thesaurus Temporum, p. 158. Edit.
Amst. 1658.

SER. LXXIIL]

THE CRUCIFIXION.

167

separated the holy place from the exterior o
the temple, which Josephus calls " a Babyloni
an hanging," embroidered curiously with gol
purple, scarlet, and fine flax.* There was als<
a veil over the door which separated the hoi
place from the Holy of Holies. The expres
sion in the text the veil, described in Exod
xxvi. 31, and denoted the veil by way of ex
cellence, makes it presumable that the secon
is here meant.

3. The evangelist relates that "the grave
were opened; and many bodies of saints whicl
slept, arose, and went into the holy city, am
appeared unto many." This has induced in
terpreters to institute an inquiry, who those
dead persons were? It is pretended by som
that they were the ancient prophets; others
with a greater air of probability, maintain tha
they were persons lately deceased, and wel
known to those to whom they appeared. Bui
how is it possible to form a fixed opinion, when
we are left so entirely in the dark?

4. Our last remark relates to the interpreta
tion affirmed to the Syriac words which Jesus
Christ pronounced; " Eli, Eli, lama sabachtha-
ni," and which St. Mark gives in the Chaldaic
form. The evangelist tells us, that some of
those who heard Jesus Christ thus express him
self, said that "he called for Elias." The
persons who entertained this idea, could not be
the Roman soldiers, who assisted at the execu
tion. By what means should they have known
any thing of Elias? They were not the Jews
who inhabited Jerusalem and Judea; how could
they have been acquainted with their native
language? They must have been, on the one
hand, Jews instructed in the traditions of their
nation, and who, on the other, did not under
stand the language spoken at Jerusalem. Now
this description applies exactly to those of the
Jews who were denominated Hellenists, that is
to say, Greeks: they were of Jewish extraction,
and had scattered themselves over the different
regions of Greece.

But whence, it will be said, did they derive
the strange idea, that Jesus Christ called for
Elias? I answer, that it was not only from the
resemblance in sound between the words Eli
and Elias, but from another tradition of the
Jews. It was founded on those words of the
prophet Malachi: "behold, I will send you

Elijah the prophet and he shall turn

the heart of the fathers to the children, and the
heart of the children to their fathers," chap. iv.
6; an oracle which presents no difficulty to the
Christian, whom Jesus Christ has instructed to
consider it as accomplished in the person of
John Baptist. But the Jews understood it in
the literal sense: they believed that Elias was
still upon mount Carmel. and was one day to
reappear. The coming of this prophet is still,
next to the appearance of the Messiah, the
object of their fondest hope.f It is Elias, as
they will have it, who "shall turn the heart
of the fathers unto the children: and the heart
of the children unto their fathers." It is Elias,
who shall prepare the way of the Messiah,
who shall be his forerunner, and who shall
anoint him with the holy oil. It is Elias, who

* Exod. xxvi. 36. Joseph. Wars of the Jews. Book vi.
chap. 14.

f Sec Kimchi and Aben Ezra on Mai. iv. 5.

shall answer all their inquiries, and resolve all
their difficulties. It is Elias, who by his pray
ers, shall obtain the resurrection of the just.
It is Elias^'ho shall do for the Jews of the
dispersion, what Moses did for the Israelites
enslaved in Egypt: he shall march at their
head, and conduct them into Canaan. These
are all expressions of the Rabbins, whose names
I suppress, as also the lists* of the works from
which we extract the passages just now quoted.
Here we conclude our proposed commentary
on the words, and now proceed:

II. To direct your attention to the great ob
ject exhibited in the text, Jesus Christ expiring
on the cross. We shall derive from the words
read, six ideas of the death of Jesus Christ.
1. The death of Christ is an expiatory sacri
fice, in which the victim was charged with the
sins of a whole world. 2. It is the body of all
the shadows, the truth of all the types, the ac
complishment of all the predictions of the an
cient dispensation, respecting the Messiah. 3.
It is, on the part of the Jewish nation, a crime,
which the blackest colours are incapable of de
picting, which has kindled the wrath of Hea
ven, and armed universal nature against them.
4. It presents a system of morality in which
every virtue is retraced, and every motive that
can animate us to the practice of it, is display
ed. 5. It presents a mystery which reason,
cannot unfold, but whose truth and importance
all the difficulties which reason may urge are
unable to impair. 6. Finally, it is the triumph
of the Redeemer over the tomb.

1. The death of Jesus Christ is an expiatory
sacrifice, offered up to divine justice. " Eli,
Eli, lama sabachthani: My God, my God, why
hast thou forsaken me?" This is the only proof
which we shall at present produce in support
of the doctrine of the atonement. It is, un
doubtedly, difficult, to determine with preci
sion, what were, at that moment, the disposi
tions of the Saviour of the world. In general,
we must carefully separate from them every
dea of distrust, of murmuring, of despair.
We must carefully separate every thing injuri
ous to the immaculate purity from which Jesus
Christ never deviated, arid* to that complete
submission, which he constantly expressed, to
;he will of his heavenly Father. We have
lere a victim, not dragged reluctantly to the
altar, but voluntarily advancing to it; and the
same love which carried him thither, supported
lim during the whole sacrifice These corh-
lainings, therefore, of Jesus Christ, afford us
convincing reasons to conclude, that his death
was of a nature altogether extraordinary.

Of this you will become perfectly sensible,
f you attend to the two following reflections;
1.) That no one ever appeared so deeply over
whelmed, at the thought of death, as Jesus
Christ: (2.) That no person ought to have met
eath with so much constancy as he, if he un^
erwent a mere ordinary death.

(1.) No one ever appeared so deeply over-
vhelmed, at the thought of death, as Jesus
Christ. Recollect in what strong terms the
acred authors represent the awful conflict
which he endured in the garden of Gethse-
rnane. They tell us of his mortal sorrow: " my
oul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death,'*
Matt. xxvi. 38. They speak of his agony:

168

THE CRUCIFIXION.

[SER. LXXIII.

"being in an agony," says St. Luke, xxii. 44
They speak of his fears: he was heard in thai
he feared: they speak of his cries and tears
" he offered up prayers and supplications, with
strong crying and tears," Heb. v. 7. They
speak of the prodigious effect which the fear
of death produced upon his body: " his sweat
was as it were great drops of blood falling
down to the ground." They even spake of the
desire which he felt to draw back: " O my Fa
ther, if it be possible, let this cup pass from
me," Matt. xxvi. 39. And in our text, they
represent him as reduced to the lowest ebb of
resolution: " My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me?" Is it possible to be more depress
ed at the thoughts of death?

(2.) But we said, secondly, That no person
ought to have met death with so much con
stancy as Jesus Christ, if he underwent a mere
ordinary death. For,

1. Jesus Christ died with perfect submission
to the will of his heavenly Father, and with
the most fervent love towards the human race.
Now, when a man serves a master whom he
honours, when he suffers for the sake of per
sons whom he loves, he suffers with patience
and composure.

2. Jesus Christ died with the most complete
assurance of the justice of his cause, and of
the innocence of his life. When, at the hour
of death, conscience is roused as an armed
man; when the recollection of a thousand
crimes awakes, when a life of unrepented guilt
stares the dying sinner in the face, the most
obdurate heart is then stretched on the rack.
But when, at a dying hour, the eye can look
back to a life of innocence, what consolation
does not the retrospect inspire? This was the
case with Jesus Christ. Who ever carried so
far charity, holy fervour, the practice of every
virtue? Who ever was more blameless in con
duct, more ardent in devotion, more pure in
secret retirement?

3. Jesus Christ died, thoroughly persuaded
of the immortality of the soul. When a man
has passed his life in atheism, and is dying in a
state of uncertainty: haunted with the appre
hension of falling into a state of annihilation;
reduced to exclaim, with Adrian, " O my soul,
whither art thou going?" Nature shudders; our
attachment to existence inspires horror, at the
thought of existing no longer. But when we
have a distant knowledge of what man is; when
we are under a complete conviction that he
consists of two distinct substances, of spirit, and
of matter; when we become thoroughly per
suaded, that the destruction of the one does
not imply the destruction of the other; that if
" the dust return to the earth as it was, the
spirit shall return unto God who gave it," Ec-
cles. xii. "7; when we know that the soul is the
seat of all perception; that the body is merely
a medium of intelligence; that the soul, when
disengaged from matter, may retain the same
ideas, the same sentiments, as when united to
the body; that it may be capable of perceiving
the sun, the stars, the firmament, death is no
longer formidable. This, too, was the case
with Jesus Christ. If ever any one enjoyed a
persuasion of the immortality of the soul, and
of the resurrection, it undoubtedly was this di-
rine Saviour. He it was who had derived all

the stores of knowledge from the bosom of the
Father, and who had "brought life and im
mortality to light," 2 Tim. i. 20.

IV. Finally, Jesus Christ died in the perfect
assurance of that felicity which he was going
to take possession of. When the dying person
beholds hell opening under his feet, and begins
to feel the gnawings of " the worm which dieth
not, and the torment of the fire that is never
to be quenched," Mark ix. 44, it is not aston
ishing that he should die in terror. But when
he can say, as he looks death in the face,
" there is the termination of all my woes, and
the reward of all my labours; I am going to re
store my soul into the hands of my Creator; I
behold heaven open to receive it;" what trans
ports of delight must not such a prospect im
part! Such, too, was the case with Jesua
Christ. If ever any one could have enjoyed a
foretaste of the paradise of God'; if ever any
one could conceive sublime ideas of that glory
and blessedness, still it was Jesus Christ. He
knew all these things by experience: he knew
all the apartments of the kingdom of his Fa
ther: from God he had come, and to God he
was returning. Nay there must have been
something peculiar in his triumph, transcend-
ently superior to that of the faithful in general.
Because " he humbled himself, and became
obedient unto death, even the death of the
cross; God was about highly to exalt him, and
to give him a name that is above every name,"
Phil. ii. 8, 9. A cloud was going to serve him
as a triumphal car, and the church triumphant
was preparing to receive their King in these
rapturous strains: " Lift up your heads, O ye
gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors,
and the King of glory shall come in," Ps.
xxiv. 7.

What, then, shall Jesus Christ do? shall he
meet death with joy? shall he say with St. Paul,

" have a desire to depart?" shall he exclaim
with the female celebrated in ecclesiastical his
tory: this is the day that crowns are distribut
ed, and I go to receive my share? No, Jesus
Christ trembles, he grows pale, his sweat be
comes " as great drops of blood," Luke xxii.
44, he cries out, " My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me?"

Add to these reflections, the promises of
divine assistance, which all the faithful have a
right to claim, in the midst of tribulation, and
which Jesus Christ must have had a far supe
rior right to plead, had he died a mere ordinary
death; but of the consolation flowing from
these he seems entirely deprived.

Add, in a particular manner, the example of
the martyrs. They met death with unshaken
fortitude: they braved the most cruel torments:
their firmness struck their very executioners
with astonishment. In Jesus Christ we behold
lothing similar to this.

Nay, I will go farther, and say, that even
;he penitent thief discovers more firmness, in
lis dying moments, than the Saviour himself,
tie addresses himself to Jesus Christ, he im-
>lores his mercy, and, set at rest by the pro-
nises given to him, he expires in tranquillity:
Tesus Christ, omthe contrary, seems equally to
despair of relief from heaven and from the
earth.

The opposers of the satisfaction of Jesus

SER. LXXIII.]

THE CRUCIFIXION.

169

Christ will find it absolutely impossible to re
solve these difficulties: the doctrine of the sa
tisfaction is the only key that can unlock this
mystery. " Innumerable evils have compassed
me about," is the prophetic language of the
psalmist, " mine iniquities have taken hold
upon me, so that I am not able to look up:
they are more than the hairs of mine head,
therefore my heart faileth me," Ps. xl. 12.
" He was wounded for our transgressions, he
was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement
of our peace was upon him:" as Isaiah ex
presses himself, chap. liii. 5. " God spared
not his own Son," Rom. viii. 32, " he hath
made^ him to be sin for us," 2 Cor. v. 21, " be
ing made a curse for us," Gal. iii. 13, to use
the language of St. Paul: this is what we un
dertook to "prove; and this is the first idea un
der which we proposed to represent the dying
Saviour of the world.

SERMON LXXIII.

THE CRUCIFIXION.

PART II.

MATTHEW xxvii. 45 — 53.

•A^oic from the sixth hour there was darkness over
all the land unto the ninth hour. Jind a1>out
the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice,
saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to
say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken
me? Some of them that stood there, when they
heard that, said, This man calleth for Elias.
Jlnd straightway one of them ran, and took a
sponge, and filled it with vinegar, and put it
on a reed, and gave him to drink. The rest
said, Let be, let us see whether Elias will come
to save him. Jesus, when he had cried again
with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. Jlnd,
behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain
from the top to the bottom: and the earth did
quake; and the rocks rent; and the graves were
opened; and many bodies of saints which slept,
arose, and came out of the graves after his resur
rection, and went into the holy city, and ap
peared unto many.

HAVING represented the death of Christ
under the idea, 1. Of an expiatory sacrifice,
in which the victim was charged with the sins
of the whole world; we proceed,

2. To consider it, as the body of all the sha
dows, the truth of all the types, the accom
plishment of all the predictions of the ancient
dispensation, respecting the Messiah. In fact,
on what state or period of the Old Testament
church can we throw our eyes, without dis
covering images of a dying Jesus, and traces
of the sacrifice which he ottered up?

If we resort to the origin of all our woes,
there also we find the remedy. You will dis
cover that Adam had no sooner by transgres
sion fallen, than God promised him a " seed,
whose heel the seed of the serpent should
bruise," but who, in the very act of suffering,
should " bruise the serpent's head," Gen. iii.
15. You will find this same promise repeated
to Abraham; that seed announced anew to
the patriarchs, and, taking St. Paul for your
VOL. II.— 22

instructor, you will discover that this seed is
Jesus Christ, Gal. iii. 16.

If you contemplate the temporal wonders
which God was pleased to work in favour of
the Jewish nation, you will discover every
where in them an adumbration of the spiritual
blessings which the death of Jesus Christ was
to procure for the church. You will there see
the blood of a lamb on the doors of the Israel
ites. It was the shadow of that "Lamb with
out blemish and without spot, foreordained be
fore the foundation of the world," 1 Pet. i. 19,
20. You will there behold a rock, which when
smitten, emitted a stream sufficient to quench
the thirst of a great people. This was a shadow
of Jesus Christ. St. Paul tells us that it was
Christ himself, who refreshes us with " living
water, springing up into everlasting life," 1
Cor. x. 4, and John iv. 14. You will there
behold a serpent lifted up, the sight of which
healed the deadly wounds of the Israelites. It
was a shadow of him who was to be lifted up
on the cross.

If you look into the Levitical worship, you
will perceive through the whole types of this
death, a perpetual sacrifice, the type of him
" whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation
through faith in his blood," Rom. iii. 25. You
will there behold victims, the types of him
" who, through the eternal Spirit, offered him
self without spot to God, to purge the con
science from dead works, to serve the living
God," Heb. ix. 14; a scape-goat, bearing " on
his head all the iniquities of the children of
Israel," Lev. xvi. 21. The type of him who
" suffered for us without the gate," Heb. xiii.
13.

If you run over the predictions of the pro
phets, you will find them, as with one mouth,
announcing the death of Jesus Christ. Now it
is Isaiah who lifts up his voice, saying, " He is
despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows
. . . . who made his soul an offering for sin
. . . . who is brought as a lamb to the slaugh
ter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb,
so he openeth not his mouth .... who was
oppressed, and was afflicted .... who was
cut off out of the land of the living," chap,
liii. 3, &c. Now it is Daniel who holds up
the same object: " Messiah shall be cut off,
but not for himself," chap. ix. 26. Now Za-
charias takes up the subject, and under the in
fluence of prophetic inspiration, gives anima
tion to the sword of " the Lord of Hosts:
Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and
against the man who is my fellow: smite the
shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered,"
chap. xiii. "7. Now the prophetic David, mi
nutely describing his sufferings, in such affect
ing terms as these: " My God, my God, why
hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far
from helping me, and from the words of my
roaring? O my God, I cry in the day time but
thou hearest not; and in the night season, and
am not silent: .... I am a worm and no
man; a reproach of men, and despised of the
people: all they that see rne laugh me to scorn;
they shoot out the lip, and shake the head,"
Ps. xxii. 1, 2. 6, 7; and, in another place:
" Save me, O God, for the waters are come in
unto my soul: I sink in deep mire, where there
is no standing: I am come into deep waters,

170

THE CRUCIFIXION.

[SER. LXXIH.

where the floods overflow me. I am weary of
my crying, my throat is dried: mine eyes fail
while I wait for my God .... for thy sake I
have borne reproach, shame hath covered my

face Reproacli hath broken my heart,

and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for
some to take pity, but there was none; and for
comforters, but I found none; they gave me
also gall for my meat, and in my thirst they
gave me vinegar to drink," Ps. Ixix. 1, 2, &c.

Such good reason have we to consider the
death of Jesus Christ under this second idea:
it is in our text. The Saviour appropriates to
himself the prediction in the twenty-second
psalm: " My God, my God, why hast thou for
saken me?1' and, in order that the Scripture
might be fulfilled, he gives occasion to his exe
cutioners to present him with vinegar, which
preceded his expiring exclamation, " It is
finished," as it is related by another of the
evangelists.

3. The death of Jesus Christ is, on the part
of the Jews, an atrocious crime, which has
roused the indignation of Heaven, arid armed
universal nature against them. But where
shall we find colours black enough to depict it?
Here the most ardent efforts of the imagination
must fall far below the reality, and the most
lively images come short of truth.

Supposing we possessed the faculty of col
lecting, into one point of view, all that was
gentle in the address of Jesus Christ, all that
was fervent in his piety, humble in his deport
ment, pure in his conduct: supposing us capa
ble of making an enumeration of all the bene
fits which he accumulated on the heads of those
monsters of ingratitude; the gracious exhorta
tions which he addressed to them; the mira
cles of goodness which he performed among
them, in" healing the sick, and raising the dead:
supposing we could display to you those ma
lignant calumnies with which they loaded him,
those abominable and repeated falsehoods,
those cruel and remorseless importunities for
permission to put him to death, worthy of the
severest execration had they been employed
even against the most detestable of mankind:/
could we represent to you all that was barba
rous and inhuman in the punishment of the
cross; by telling you that it was a huge stake
crossed by another piece of wood, to which
they bound the body of the person condemned
to terminate his life upon it; that the two
arms were stretched out upon that cross beam,
and nailed, as well as both the feet, to the tree,
so that the body of the sufferer, sinking with
its own weight, and suspended by its nerves,
was speedily reduced to one vast wound, till
the violence and slowness of the torment at
length delivered him, and the blood drained
off drop by drop, thus exhausted the stream of
life: supposing us to have detailed all the ig
nominious circumstances which accompanied
the death of Christ; that crown of thorns, that
purple robe, that ridiculous sceptre, that wag
ging of the head, those insulting defiances to
save himself, as he had saved others — suppos
ing, I say, all this could be collected into one
point of view, we should still believe that we
had conveyed to you ideas much too feeble, of
the criminality of the Jews.

Nature convulsed, and the elements con

founded, shall supply our defects, and serve,
this day, as so many preachers. The prodigies
which signalized the death of Jesus Christ
shall persuade more powerfully than all the
figures of rhetoric. That darkness which covers
the earth, that veil of the temple rent in twain,
that trembling which has seized the solid globe,
those rocks cleft asunder, those yawning
graves, those reviving dead, they, they are the
pathetic orators who reproach the Jews with
the atrocity of their guilt, and denounce their
impending destruction. The sun shrouds him
self in the shades of night, as unable to behold
this accursed parricide, and what courtly poets
said in adulation, namely, that the orb of day
clothed himself in mourning, when Julius
Cesar was assassinated in the senate house,
was here realized under special direction of
divine Providence. The veil of the temple is
rent asunder, as on a day of lamentation and
wo. The earth trembles, as refusing to sup
port the wretches, whose sacrilegious hands
were attacking the life of him who "fastened
the foundations thereof," Job xxxviii. 6, and
" founded it upon its bases," Ps. civ. 5. The
rocks cleave, as if to reprove the Jews for the
hardness of their hearts. The dead start from
their tombs, as coming to condemn the rage
of the living.

4. The death of Jesus Christ is a system of
morality, in which every virtue is clearly traced.
If the divine justice be an object of fear, where
is it more powerfully inculcated than on the
cross of Jesus Christ? How very terrible does
that justice there appear! It goes in pursuit
of its victim into the very heaven of heavens.
It extends on the altar a Divine Man. It
spares not the Son of God, his own Son.
And tnou, miserable sinner, who canst present
nothing to the eyes of thy judge but what is
odious and abominable, how shalt thou be able
to escape his vengeance, if violating the laws
of the gospel thou renderest thyself so much
the more worthy of condemnation, that thou
hadst, in that very gospel, the effectual means
of deliverance?

If vice is to be held in detestation, where is
this lesson so forcibly taught as from the cross
of Jesus Christ? Let the man who makes
light of sin, who forms to himself agreeable
images, and feeds on flattering ideas of it,
learn, at the cross of Christ, to contemplate it
in its true light: let him form a judgment of
the cause from the effects; and let him never
think of sin, without thinking at the same
time, on the pangs which it cost the Saviour of
the world.

If we wish for models to copy, where shall
we find models so venerable as on the cross of
Christ? Let the proud man go to the cross of
Christ; let him there behold the Word in a
state of humiliation; let him there contemplate
the person who made himself of no reputation,
and took upon him the form of a servant, and
condescended to submit to the punishment of
a slave: the person who being in the form of
God, thought it not robbery to be equal with
God: let the proud man look to him, and learn
to be humble. Let the voluptuous repair to
the cross of Christ; let him there behold the
flesh crucified, the senses subdued, pleasure
mortified, and learn to bring forth fruits meet

SER. LXXIII.]

THE CRUCIFIXION.

171

for repentance. Let the implacable repair to
the cross of Christ; let him there contemplate
Jesus Christ dying for his enemies, praying
even for his murderers, and learn to put on
bowels of mercies. Let the murmurer go to
the cross of Christ; let him go and study that
complete submission which this divine Saviour
yielded to the most rigid commands of his Fa
ther, and learn to resign himself in all things
to the will of God.

If we are bound to love our lawgiver, where
can we learn this lesson better than at the
cross of Christ? From that cross we hear him
crying aloud to the guilty and the wretched:
" Behold, O sinners, behold the tokens of my
affection: behold my hands and my feet: be
hold this pierced side: behold all these wounds
with which my body is torn: behold all those
stripes of the justice of my Father, which I
endure for your salvation." At a spectacle so
moving, is there an obduracy so invincible as
not to bend? Is there a heart so hard as to re
fuse to melt? Is there a love so ardent as not
to kindle into a brighter flame?

5. The death of Jesus Christ is a mystery
inaccessible to reason, but which all the diffi
culties that reason can muster, are unable to
impair.

It is a mystery inaccessible to reason: let it
explain to me that wonderful union of great
ness and depression, of ignominy, and glory, of
an immortal God with a dying man.

Let reason explain to me, how it comes to
pass, that though God is unsusceptible of suf
fering and dyinor, the sufferings and death of
Jesus Christ should, however, derive all their
efficacy from his nature as God.

Let reason explain to me, how Jesus Christ
could satisfy divine justice, and be, at the same
time, if the expression be lawful, the Judge and
the party condemned, the Avenger and the
party avenged, he who satisfied, and he to whom
satisfaction was made.

Let reason explain to me, how Jesus nailed
to the cross, is nevertheless worthy of the adora
tion of men and of angels, so that the Jew who
crucifies him, is at once his executioner and his
creature.

Let reason explain to me, above all, that
mystery of love which we see displayed on the
cross of Jesus Christ, and how God, who is so
great, and so highly exalted, should have vouch
safed to perform, in behalf of man, a being so
low and contemptible, wonders so astonishing.
Bend, bend, proud reason, under the weight
of these difficulties, and from the extent of
Uiese mysteries, learn the narrowness of thy
own empire.

" It is the wisdom of God in a mystery, which
none of the princes of this world knew," 1
Cor. ii. 7, 8. It is " the great mystery of god
liness," 1 Tim. iii. 16. These are "the things
of the Spirit of God, which the natural man
receiveth not," 1 Cor. ii. 14. This is the
" stumbling block of the Jew:" this is " to the
Greek foolishness," 1 Cor. i. 23. " These are
the things which eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of
man," 1 Cor. ii. 9. This is a mystery inacces
sible to reason, but it is a mystery, whose truth
and importance all the difficulties which reason
can muster, are unable to impair.

The gospel tells us not that greatness and
depression, that ignominy and glory, that the
mortal, and the immortal nature, were con
founded in the person of Jesus Christ. It sim
ply informs us that God, in the depths of his
infinite wisdom, knew how to unite depression
to greatness, glory to ignominy, the mortal to
the immortal nature. This is a mystery inac
cessible to reason, but against which reason has
no title to murmur.

The gospel does not tell us that God, who is
unsusceptible of either suffering or death, suf
fered and died, but that the subject susceptible
of suffering united to the impassable, suffered;
that the mortal, united to the immortal sub
ject, died; and that, in virtue of this union, his
sufferings and death possess an infinite value.
This is a mystery inaccessible to reason, but
against which reason has no title to repine.

The gospel does not tell us that Jesus Christ
considered as nailed to a cross, as suffering, as
dying, is worthy of adoration, but, in virtue of
his intimate union with Deity, that he is an ob
ject, of adoration to men and to angels. This is
a mystery inaccessible to reason, but against
it reason has not a title to reclaim.

The gospel does not tell us that man, a be
ing so mean, vile, grovelling, could have me
rited this prodigy of love; but that God has
derived it from himself, as an independent
source, and that he considers it as essential to
his glory, to acknowledge no other foundation
of his -benefits, but the misery of those to
whom he is pleased to communicate them. —
This is a mystery inaccessible to reason, but
against which reason has not a title to re
claim.

6. There remains only one idea more, un
der which we wish to represent the death of
the Saviour of the world. It is the triumph
of Jesus Christ over death, and the consola
tion of the dying believer. Death may be
considered in three points of view. (1.) It
throws us into the darkness of gloomy night.
(2.) It summons us to appear before a tremen
dous tribunal. (3.) It strips us of our dear
est possessions. Jesus Christ expires on the
cross, triumphs over death, in these three seve
ral respects.

But it would be necessary to possess the art
of renewing your attention, in order success
fully to undertake the task of ' pressing these
ideas upon your minds, for they are more than
sufficient to furnish matter for a complete new
discourse.

I must confine myself, at present, to one con
sideration, founded on the rending of the veil
of the temple, mentioned in the text. We
have already pointed it out as a token of the
vengeance of heaven against the Jewish na
tion. It may likewise be considered in another
point of view, conformably to the decision of
St. Paul, and to the ideas of the Jews. That
people looked on their temples as a figure of
the universe. We have, on this subject, pas
sages expressly to the purpose, in Philo and Jo-
sephus. All that was on the outside of the
most holy place, represented, to them, nature
and the elements. The scarlet colour of the
sanctuary represented fire. The hyacinthine
represented the air. The seven branches of
the candlestick represented the seven planets.

172

THE CRUCIFIXION.

[SER. LXX1II.

The twelve cakes of show bread represented
the signs of the Zodiac, and the twelve months
of the year. But they said, that the most holy
place had been set apart for God: that the Pro
pitiatory was his throne, that the cherubim were
his chariot.*

On this principle, the veil, which separated
the holy place from the Holy of Holies, was
an image of the obstacles which interposed be
tween the creature and the heavenly habita
tion, in which God resides. This veil is rent
asunder at the death of Jesus Christ; these ob
stacles are removed; access into the abode of
the blessed is open to us: and this is the spirit
of the ceremonial observance prescribed in the
Levitical worship: " Into the second went the
high priest alone, once every year, not without
blood," says St. Paul in his epistle to the He
brews; " The Holy Ghost this signifying, that
the way into the holiest of all was not yet made
manifest, while as the first tabernacle was yet
standing: but Christ being come, a high priest
of good things to come, by a greater and more
perfect tabernacle, by his own blood, entered
into the holy place, having obtained eternal re
demption for us," Heb. ix. 7, &c.

Death, then, has nothing, henceforward, for
midable to the Christian. In the tomb of Je
sus Christ are dissipated all the terrors which
the tomb of nature presents. In the tomb of
nature, O sinner, thou beholdest thy frailty,
thy subjection to the bondage of corruption:
in the tomb of Jesus Christ thou beholdest thy
strength and thy deliverance. In the tomb of
nature the punishment of sin stares thee in the
face: in the tomb of Jesus Christ thou findest
the expiation of it. From the tomb of nature
thou hearest the dreadful sentence pronounced
against all the posterity of Adam: " Dust
thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,"
Gen. iii. 19: but from the tomb of Jesus Christ
issue those accents of consolation: "I am the
resurrection, and the life; he that believeth in
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live,"
John xi. 25. In the tomb of nature thou
readest this universal, this irrevocable doom
written: " It is appointed unto men once to
die," Heb. ix. 27; but in the tomb of Jesus
Christ, thy tongue is loosed into this triumphant
song of praise: " O death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to
God who giveth us the victory, through our
Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. xv. 55. 57.

All that now remains is to conclude with a
few reflections by way of recapitulation. My
brethren, for some weeks past, there have been
traced before your eyes the successive particu
lars of the passion and death of the Saviour of
the world. You have seen him betrayed, ap
prehended, arraigned, condemned, and expiring
under the most shameful, and the most cruel
of all punishments.

Do you comprehend all that is sublime in
these truths? Do you feel, in all its extent,
the value of these benefits? Have you, at
least, made the attempt to take the dimen
sions of the love of God, and " to comprehend
with all saints, what is the breadth, and length,
and depth, and height: and to know the love
of Christ, which passe th knowledge, that you

•* Consult Joseph. Antiq. lib. iii. cap. 5, and Phil, de
? ita Mosis, lib. iii. p. 667, &c.

may be filled with all the fullness of God?"
Eph. iii. 18, 19.

Ah! let us beware, my beloved brethren, that
we deceive not ourselves as to this; after so
many distinguished tokens of the grace of
God, we are going to become the most wretch
ed, or the happiest, of all creatures. Our con
dition admits not of mediocrity. The two
interesting extremes present themselves to
view — the extreme of justice, and the extreme
of mercy. We are going to prove all that is
mild and gentle in the peace of God, or all
that is tremendous in his indignation: and that
blood which we have seen poured out, must be
upon our heads either to attract, or to repel,
the thunder.

" His blood be upon us, and on our chil
dren," Matt, xxvii. 25. This was the impreca
tion of those barbarous Jews, who with impor
tunity demanded the death of Jesus Christ, and
glutted themselves with his sufferings. But it
was, in a far different sense, the interior voice
of those believing souls, who entered into the
design of God, who, by faith, sprinkled them
selves with this blood, which was to form the
bond of union between heaven and earth.

" His blood be on us, and on our children."
This is the voice which now resounds from ear
to ear, and which must be accomplished on
this assembly, in one sense or another. Yes,
this blood shall be upon you, in vengeance and
malediction, as it was upon ungrateful Jerusa
lem, in your families to trouble their peace, in
your plans to defeat them, in your establish
ments to sap them to the foundation, in your
consciences to harrow them up, in your death
bed to darken it with horror and despair, and
through all the periods of eternity, demanding
the expiation of the crime, of having trampled
under foot the blood of the Son of God, and
of having crucified afresh the Lord of glory.
Or it will be upon you, yes, this blood will be
upon you, to strengthen you under all your in
firmities, to preserve you in the hour of temp
tation, to console you under the pressure of
calamity, to speak peace to the troubled con
^science, to support you in dying agony, to ren
der your death blessed, and eternity trium
phant.

I dwell for a moment on these last ideas, and
under an illusion of charity, I apply them to
all those who compose my audience. Happy
they, to whom they are applicable of a truth!
To have been attentive to the history of the
sufferings and death of the Saviour of the
world, which, for some time past, has been the
great subject of our address, to have traced it
through all its successive circumstances, to
have felt the necessity, and to have penetrated
into the design of the whole; to have applied
to ourselves the lessons which it inculcates, the
consolations which it supplies, the hope which
it inspires; to deduce, from those grand objects,
consequences affecting the conduct of life,
tending to promote sanctity of manners, supe
riority to the world, love to God so rich in
mercy, desire of possessing that in perfection,
of which displays so astonishing, convey ideas
so sublime

After that, to come next Lord's day to the
table of Jesus Christ, with the understanding
convinced, the heart overflowing, the soul

SER. LXXIV.]

OBSCURE FAITH.

173

penetrated: to discern, in the bread and the
wine of which we are to partake, the symbols
of that death, whose memorial the church is
celebrating: to promise unto God, over those
august pledges of his love, to render to him
love for love, and life for life: to expand the
heart in such emotions; to communicate in
such a disposition, and to wait for death under
such impressions— these are the loftiest objects
which man can propose to his meditation.
This is the highest point of perfection which
we are capable of attaining, in the course of
this mortal pilgrimage. This is the purest de-
Jight that we can taste in this valley of tears.

I trust, my dearly beloved brethren, that
these sublime objects shall not have been pre
sented to you in vain. I trust that so many
exhortations will not fall to the ground totally
without success. I trust that these first emo
tions, which it is impossible to withhold from
an expiring Saviour, will not be " as the early
cloud, and as the morning dew," Hos. vi. 4;
which appear for a moment, and are dissipated
in a moment. I trust they will henceforward
engage your heart, your mind, your whole life,
and that they will accompany you to the bed
of death. I trust, that when this awful period
comes, instead of that mortal reluctance, in
stead of those insupportable forebodings which
unrepented guilt inspires, the image of Jesus
Christ crucified, present to your eyes; what do
I say, of Jesus Christ crucified? of Jesus Christ
raised from the dead, glorious, sitting at the
right hand of his Father; of Jesus Christ, pre
senting continually before his eyes the value
of that blood which he shed for the salvation
of the human race; of Jesus Christ extending
his arms to receive your departing spirit, that
he may bind it up " in the bundle of life:" I
trust that this image will dispel all the terrors
of death, and thus prepare you to pass from
the dispensation of grace, to the dispensation
of glory.

In the dispensation of grace, you have be
held the Son of God invested with " the form
of a servant;" in the dispensation of glory, you
Bhall behold him arrayed in all splendour and
magnificence. In the dispensation of grace,
you have beheld the King of kings attended
by an humble train of disciples of but mean
appearance: in the dispensation of glory, you
shall behold him accompanied by the heavenly
hosts, legions of angels and archangels, of the
cherubim and of the seraphim. In the dispen
sation of grace, you have beheld Jesus Christ
expiring ignominiously upon the cross: in the
dispensation of glory, you shall behold him in
the clouds of heaven, judging the quick and
the dead. In the dispensation of grace, you
have heard the lips of your Saviour thus speak
ing peace to your soul: " Son, be of good cheer,
thy sins are forgiven thee:" in the dispensation
of glory, you shall hear this decision from his
mouth; " Come, ye blessed of my Father, in
herit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world," Matt. xxv. 34. May
God of his infinite mercy grant it! To him be
honour and glory now and for ever. Amen.

SERMON

OBSCURE FAITH;

OR,

THE BLESSEDNESS OF BELIEVING,
WITHOUT HAVING SEEN.

JOHN xx. 29.

Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast
seen me thou hast believed: blessed are they that
have not seen, and yet have believed.
STRANGE is the condition in which Provi
dence has placed the Christian. He is ever
walking in the midst of darkness and obscurity.
He is placed between two periods of gloomi
ness; between the cloudy night of the past, and
the still darker night of futurity. Does he
wish to ascertain the truths which are the ob
ject of his faith? They are founded on facts;
and in order to be assured of those facts, he
must force his way backward, through more
than eighteen hundred centuries: he must dig
truth and falsehood out of the rubbish of tra
dition; out of the captious systems of the ene
mies of Christianity: nay, sometimes out of
the pious frauds, on which an indiscreet zeal
has attempted to establish it.

If he wishes to ascertain the reality of that
blessedness which is the object «f his hope, he
must plunge himself, in quest of it, into periods
which do not as yet subsist. He must " walk
by faith and not by sight," 2 Cor. v. 7, he
must depart, as Abraham did, and leave " his
kindred and his father's house, without know
ing, precisely, whither he goes," Heb. xi. 8.
It is necessary that his persuasion, if I may so
express myself, should form a new creation of
things, which have no real existence as to him;
or, to use the expression of St. Paul, his
" faith" must be " the substance of things
hoped for, and the evidence of things riot seen,"
Heb. xi. 1. Now, it is to such obscurity, it is
to such darkness, that a man is called to sacri
fice all that the human mind is taught to con
sider as the greatest reality and certainty, I
mean the decisions of reason, and the felicities
of a present world. What a situation! What
a strange situation!

But be it as it may, we, this day, place our
selves, my brethren, between these two dark
clouds; between the night of the past, and the
night of futurity. In what are the duties of
this day to terminate? What is the language
suitable to the day which is now passing? / be
lieve: I hope. I believe that the Word was made
flesh, that he suffered, that he died, that he rose
again: this is the night of the past. / hope
that, in virtue of this incarnation, of these suf
ferings, of this resurrection, "an entrance shall
be ministered unto me abundantly, into the
everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ," 2 Pet. i. 11, and that I shall
partake in the felicity of the ever blessod God:
this is the night of futurity. I believe, and to

174

OBSCURE FAITH.

[San. LXXIV.

that belief I immolate all the ideas of my in
tellect, all the systems of my reason. / hope,
and to those hopes I immolate all the attrac-
tives of sensual appetite, all the charms of the
Visible creation: and were "all the kingdoms
of the world and the glory of them," Matt. iv.
8, to be put in my offer, on the condition that
I should renounce my hopes, I would consider
the former " but dung," Phil. iii. 8, and cleave
to the latter as the only real and solid good.

"Who is there among you, my brethren, who
feels himself capable of this effort of mind! I
acknowledge him to be a true disciple of
Jesus Christ. He may rest assured that he
shall be received as a worthy partaker at that
mysterious table, which sovereign wisdom is
once more, this day, furnishing before our eyes.
But he may likewise rest assured, that his feli
city, veiled, invisible as it is, shall remain more
firm and unshaken, than all those things which
are the idols of the children of this world. To
meditation on this interesting subject 1 devote
the present discourse, to which you cannot ap
ply an attention too profound.

The occasion of the words of our text it
would be unnecessary to indicate. Which of
my hearers can be such a novice in the gospel
history as to be ignorant of it? Thomas was
not present with the other apostles, when Jesus
Christ appeared unto them, after he had left
the tomb. His absence produced incredulity.
He refuses to yield to the united testimony of
the whole apostolic college. He solemnly pro
tests that there is but one way to convince him
of the certainty of the resurrection of Jesus
Christ, namely, to produce him alive. "-No,"
says he, " except 1 shall see in his hands the
print of the nails, and put my finger into the
print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his
side, I will not believe," John xx. 25. Jesus
Christ is pleased to adapt his condescension to
the weakness of this disciple, and to gratify a
pretension so arrogant and rash: he appears to
Thomas, and says to him: " Reach hither thy
finger, and behold rny hands; and reach hither
thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be
not faithless, but believing," ver. 27. Thomas
js drawn different ways; by the shame of hav*
jng disbelieved, and the joy which he felt in
being convinced by the testimony of his own
senses, and exclaims, " My Lord and my God!"
Upon this Jesus Christ addresses hirn in the
words of the text: " Thomas, because thou hast
seen me thou hast believed: blessed are they
that have not seen, and yet have believed."

You perceive from the occasion on which
the words were spoken, that they point, in the
first instance, to the resurrection of Jesus
Christ. We shall take care, accordingly, not
to lose sight of this object. Nevertheless, as
the proposition of our blessed Lord is general,
we shall take it in all its generality: and shall
discourse to you of that obscure faith which
reverts to periods long since passed, and looks
forward into periods hidden in a remote futu
rity. The nature of obscure faith; the excel
lency of obscure faith: this is the simple divi
sion of my present discourse. Or, to convey a
still clearer idea of my design, under the first
head, I shall endeavour to unfold the ambigu
ity of that expression; " to believe without
having seen:" in the second, I shall evince the

truth of this proposition; " blessed are they that
have not seen, and yet have believed."

I. Let us, in the first place, endeavour \to
explain the nature of obscure faith: or, as we
have announced the subject of this first branch
of our discourse, let us attempt to unfold the
ambiguity of the expression, " Thomas, because
thou hast seen, thou hast believed: blessed are
they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
By obscure faith we here mean, that which is
founded, not on what a man has seen with his
own eyes, not on what he has discovered to
be true by the powers of his own reason, but
on testimony worthy of credit.

Let this definition be carefully remarked:
and let this be constantly kept in sight, that
though the faith of which we are speaking,
has not a certainty resting on the evidence of
the senses, or on the conclusions of right rea
son, it has a certainty perfect in its kind, that
which rests on a testimony worthy of credit.
Take care, therefore, not to confound an ob
scure faith with a fluctuating, unsettled, ill-
founded faith. They are two things perfectly
distinct, arid it is impossible to distinguish them
too carefully. The obscurity of which we are
going to treat, is by no means incompatible
with evidence.

In order to comprehend it fully, it is neces-
sary to distinguish two species of evidence:
evidence of the object, and evidence of -testi
mony. We call evidence of the object, that
which rests, as I have said, either on the depo
sition of the senses, or on the discernment of
sound reason. I believe that you are now as
sembled within the walls of this church: I be
lieve it, because I see it is so. The evidence
which I have on this subject, is that species of
evidence which I have denominated evidence
of the object, and which is founded on the de
position of the senses. In like manner, I be
lieve that so long as you remain within these
walls, you are not in your own habitations.
The evidence which I have to support this be
lief, is still that which I have denominated evi
dence of the object, namely, that which is founded
on the light of my own reason, whereby I am
assured, in a manner which leaves me not the
liberty of so much as doubting, that so long
as you remain within this temple, you cannot
possibly be in any other place.

But if there be evidence of object, there is
likewise evidence of testimony. I believe there
is a vast region on the globe, called the king
dom of Persia. I have evidence to support this
belief: not the evidence ofobject: but the evidence
of testimony. I believe that there is sucli a
kingdom, though I have not seen it with my
own eyes: but there is such a cloud of witnesses,
of undoubted credit, who assure me of it, that
the evidence of testimony supplies the evidence
of object. In like manner, I believe that a
vessel of such or such a construction, and of
so many tons burden, requires such a depth
of water. I believe this, not because my rea
son has by its own powers made the discovery,
for I never made mechanism of this kind my
study; but the unanimous deposition of all who
understand the art of ship-building, gives me
full assurance of the fact, fills the place of my
own intimate perception, and the evidence of
testimony supplies the evidence of object.

SER. LXXIV.]

OBSCURE FAITH.

175

Having thus explained our meaning, when
we say that faith is obscure, when we say that
the Christian believes what he sees not, we do
not by this understand that he believes in
what is destitute of proof, we only mean that
he believes the truth of facts, of which he has
not been an eye-witness, that he believes in
truths which he could not have discovered by
his own reason, and that he hopes for a felicity
of which he has not a distinct idea: but he be
lieves those facts, on the unanimous testimony
of a great number of witnesses, who could not
possibly have acted in concert to deceive him:
he believes those truths on an infallible testi
mony: he hopes on that same testimony,
namely, on the word of God himself. In all
these things, the evidence of testimony supplies
the evidence of object.

That it is of this kind of faith, we are to un
derstand these words in our text, " Blessed are
they who have not seen, and yet have believ
ed,1' the occasion on which they were pro
nounced permits us not to doubt. Of what
was Jesus Christ speaking to Thomas? Of his
own resurrection. Who are the persons he
had in view, whom Providence was afterward
to call to believe, without having seen? Those
who could not possibly be the eye-witnesses of
that resurrection. But were the persons, who
should be called to believe the doctrine of the
resurrection, to believe it without satisfying
reasons of its truth and certainty? By no
means. Call to your recollection, a part of
what we submitted to your consideration, on
this subject, upon another occasion.* We
have in confirmation of the resurrection of Je
sus Christ, 1. Presumptions. 2. Proofs. 3. De
monstrations.

I. The circumstances of the death of the Sa
viour, and of his burial, furnish us with pre
sumptions on this subject. Jesus Christ died:
his body was deposited in the tomb; but a few
days afterward it was not to be found there.
We thence presume that Jesus Christ is risen
again. If Jesus Christ be not risen, his body
must have been conveyed away: but how is it
possible to maintain such an assertion? To
whom shall we impute such conveyance? Not
surely to his enemies. Could they be suspect- j
ed of a design to contribute to his glory, by j
giving currency to the report of his resurrec- |
tiori? It can as little be imputed to his disci
ples. They had no inclination to do so: for
how coujd men so notoriously timid, have
formed an enterprise so daring and dangerous,
and that in favour of a man (I go on the sup
position that Jesus Christ did not rise again,)
who had thus abused their credulity? But had
their inclination been ever so strong, was it in
their power either to surprise or to discomfit a
guard forewarned of the design? These I call
presumptions.

II. The testimony of the apostles furnishes
us with proofs of the resurrection. This tes
timony possesses no less than eight distinct
characters, which raise it beyond the reach of
all suspicion: 1. The nature of the witnesses,
who had neither the credit, nor the riches, nor
the eloquence necessary to practise an impos-

* Tlie reader is referred to the sermon on The Re- !
twrrection of Jesus Christ) of Mr. Robinson's Selection. J

ture on mankind: 2. The numoer of those
witnesses, amounting to more than five hun
dred: 3. The nature of the facts which are the
subject of their evidence, things in which it
was impossible they should deceive themselves,
things which they had seen, heard, and per
ceived in the most sensible and palpable man
ner: 4. The uniformity of their testimony,
which in no one instance ever contradicted it
self: 5. The judges before whom their evi
dence was given; judges expert in the art of
involving cheats in self-contradiction, but who
never could detect any, in the witnesses of
whom we are speaking: 6. The place where
their testimony was published; for had the
apostles gone and published the resurrection
of the Lord Jesus, in regions remote from that
where the fact could be completely sifted, they
might have fallen under suspicion; but they
attest it to the face of the whole city of Jeru
salem itself: 7. The time when this testimony
was published, respecting which the same rea
soning applies which does to the circumstance
of place: 8. The motives by which those
witnesses were actuated, and which could be
no other but the satisfying of their own con
sciences, as, so far from having a temporal in
terest to promote, by the publication of this
event, every temporal interest pressed in the
opposite direction.

But we have, likewise, of this truth, demon
strations properly so called. With these we
are furnished in the miraculous gifts commu
nicated to those who attest it; of which we
cannot entertain any doubt, without taxing
with extravagance three sorts of persons equally
clear of all ground of suspicion on such an oc
casion: 1. The apostles, who gave the history
of those miracles, and relate in a manner the
best adapted to expose imposture, on the sup
position of their having been impostors: 2.
Their enemies, who in their writings against
them, have not denied that they wrought mi
racles, but that these miracles were a proof of
the truth of their doctrine: 3. Finally, their
proselytes, who had the greatest imaginable
interest in examining wfiether it were true
that the apostles wrought miracles, who had
all possible opportunities of ascertaining the
fact, and who sacrificed their property, their
reputation, their life, for a religion entirely
resting on this truth — The apostles work mi
racles. These we call so many demonstrations.

This recapitulation sufficiently instructs us,
that we are not called upon to believe an event
so very extraordinary, as if it were destitute
of proof: on the contrary, we believe it on
proofs clear, cogent, and decisive. When,
therefore, Jesus Christ says, " Blessed are they
who have not seen, and yet have believed," he
means not to say, that it is blessed to believe
things destitute of evidence: he speaks only of
things which have not the evidence of object,
but which have that of testimony.

Let .us pursue this thought a little farther.
The idea which we have suggested of obscure
faith, distinguishes it from three kinds of con
viction, which are but too frequently con
founded with it: the faith extorted by tyranny;
the faith generated in the brain of the enthusi
ast; and the faith of the superstitious.

1. The faith of which we speak, must be

176

OBSCURE FAITH.

. LXXIV

carefully distinguished from the faith which is
extorted by tyranny. We do not here under
stand that which violence would attempt to
produce by the terror of punishment. Never
did racks, gibbets, and stakes, produce in the
eoul, any thing like conviction in favour of a
religion which pretended to establish itself by
arguments so odious and detestable. But there
is a tyranny of a different kind, which has
produced believers not a few. By dint of at
testing fictions, men have forced them into
credit: by dint of insolent pretensions to infal
libility, the simple have sometimes been pre
vailed upon to admit it: and the simple gene
rally constitute the bulk of mankind.

We denominate that the faith extorted by
tyranny, which is yielded to the insolent deci
sions of a doctor, who gives himself out as in
fallible, without proving it; or to fabulous
legends, unsupported by any respectable testi
mony. How, under the pretext that I am
bound to believe facts, which I may never
have seen with my own eyes, am I laid under
an obligation to swallow every thing that a
legendary is pleased to tell me? How, under
the pretext that I am bound to believe truths
which are above the reach of my reason, am I
laid under an obligation to believe every thing
proposed to me by a man, who may be practis
ing upon my credulity? And upon my refusing
to believe on such a foundation, shall I be tax
ed with being incredulous like Thomas, and
with saying as he did, "Except I shall see in
his hands the print of the nails, and put my
finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my
hand into his side, I will not believe!"

If you would have me believe the facts
which you propose, produce me the proofs
which support them, if not as complete as
those which assure me of the resurrection of
Jesus Christ, at least, such as are somewhat of
a similar nature; and if you wish I should
consider you as infallible, like the apostles,
produce me proofs of your infallibility, equiva
lent to those which the apostles produced of
theirs. But if on examining such pretended
facts, I discover that they are fictions merely;
if on examining the foundation upon which
your infallibility rests, I find that the men who
gave themselves out for infallible, while they
lay claim to the infallibility of the apostles, are
undermining the doctrine of the apostles, I
shall not reckon myself obliged to pay the
slightest deference to their decisions. The
faith which these decisions attempt to produce,
will be faith extorted by tyranny, and which
will have* no relation whatever to that faith
which Jesus Christ expects from his disciples,
and which is, in truth, obscure, but neverthe
less, well founded; which is destitute indeed, of
the evidence of object, but which is ever ac
companied with the evidence of testimony.

2. In the second place, the faith, of which
we are treating, must be distinguished from
that of the enthusiast; I mean that of certain
Christians, who found the reasons which in
duce them to believe, entirely on such and
such impulses, which they pretend to be the
operation of the Spirit of God: impulses des
titute of illumination, and which determine
the person thus agitated, to yield his assent to
a proposition unsupported by proof, or, at most,

recommended by an air of probability. One
of the marks which distinguish false zeal from
true, is, that this last, 1 mean true zeal, sacri
fices its own glory to that of religion, and is
infinitely better pleased to acknowledge its
own error, than to spread the slightest cloud
over that pure and genial light in which reli
gion is arrayed. A man, on the contrary,
who is actuated by a false zeal, sacrifices with
out hesitation, the glory of religion to his own:
and maintains, at the expense of truth itself,
the errors which he has advanced.

This has been found to be the case with cer
tain eminent names, on the subject of our pre
sent discussion. The vehemence of the con
troversies which have been carried on, re
specting the operation of the Holy Spirit on
the souls of believers, has frequently carried
some of the disputants farther than they them
selves intended. In the heat of argumentation
they have asserted, that the action of the Holy
Spirit, which operates in the faithful, is carried
so far as to give them a degree of faith, su
perior to the reasons which they have for be
lieving. When pressed by their adversaries,
they ought to have acknowledged this to be
one of the propositions which one is tempted
to advance in the warmth of dispute, and
which candour, without hesitation, is disposed
to retract, after the heat is subsided. But this
were a sacrifice too great for self-love to make:
it is deemed better that religion should suffer
from the intemperate zeal of the sophist, than
that the sophist should correct his hasty posi
tion, by the illumination of religion.

Thus, in order to support one absurdity, a
still greater absurdity has been advanced. It
has been maintained, not only that the follow
ing proposition is true, namely, The impulse
of the Holy Spirit gives us a faith superior to
the reasons which we have for believing; but
this is absolutely necessary; for, it has been
alleged, that the Christian religion being desti
tute of proofs which enforce assent, all Ihose
who should refuse to believe what is destitute
of this kind of proof, must, in so doing, refuse
».to believe the Christian religion.

God forbid that we should attempt to de
fend with weapons so empoisoned, the truths
of religion! It was not thus that they were de
fended by Jesus Christ and his apostles. They
called on men to believe, but they at the same
time, adduced proof of what they wished to be
received as the object of faith. The Spirit of
God undoubtedly, operates on the soul of every
one who implores his assistance, but it is by
making them feel the force of the proofs, not
by convincing them of what it is impossible to
prove. And who could be condemned for not
having believed, were Christianity destitute
of sufficient proof? would not the infidel be
warranted in alleging: " I am not to blame, if
I withhold my assent to such a proposition: I
do not feel that impulse which engages one to
believe what cannot be proved?" But the no
tion which we have given of faith, confounds
every one who refuses to believe. We say,
with Jesus Christ of the unbelievers of his time:
" This is the condemnation, that light is come
into the world, and men loved darkness rather
than light, because their deeds were evil," John
hi. 19.

SKR. LXXIV.]

OBSCURE FAITH.

177

3. Finally, the notion which we have given | tion, was going, henceforward, to cease. Je-
of faith, distinguishes it from that of the super- i sus Christ was shortly to leave the world: a
stitious. To believe, in the view of doing cloud was soon to receive him out of the sight
honour to religion, a doctrine weakly proved,
whatever may be the origin of that doctrine,

is to have a superstitious faith. Under this
description may be ranked what has been de
nominated "faith extorted by tyranny, and
faith generated in the brain of the enthusiast."
But we have, under this particular, a different
kind of superstition in view. To believe a
truth completely proved, but without having
examined the proofs which support it, is to
have the faith of superstition. A truth of which

of the inhabitants of this earth: " The heavens
must now receive him, until the times of the
restitution of all things," Acts iii. 21 The
angels had declared to the apostles, as they
stood rapt in astonishment at beholding their
beloved Master disappear: " This same Jesus,
which is taken up from you into heaven, shall
so come, in like manner as ye have seen him
go into heaven," Acts i. 11. The disposition
of Thomas's mind, therefore, was going hence
forth, to become universally fatal. Every one

I perceive not the proofs, is no truth with re- who should say with him, " except I shall see
spect to me. What renders my disposition of I in his hands the print of the nails, and put my
soul acceptable in the sight of God, when I finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my

> 1 • 1 _ _ 1 A_ _ • 1_ „ J • . 1 • - 1 T' -11 . t f *

receive what he is pleased to reveal to me, is
my reception of it as an intelligent being, after
having weighed the motives which induced me
to give it welcome; after having discovered,
on putting them in the balance with the oppo
site motives, that the first had greatly the pre-
ponderancy over the others. But to believe a
truth with precipitation, to believe it without
knowledge, is mere superstition. If it should
determine you to declare yourself on the side
of truth, it must be entirely by chance, and,
which may, to-morrow, plunge you into error,
as it induces you, to-day, to embrace the truth.
Obscure faith, then, is not a persuasion un
supported by proof, it is, in truth, destitute of
the proofs which constitute the evidence of ob
ject; but not of those which constitute the evi
dence of testimony, as was from the beginning
affirmed, and which it was necessary oftener
than once to repeat.

SERMON LXXIV.

OBSCURE FAITH;

OR,

THE BLESSEDNESS OF BELIEVING,
WITHOUT HAVING SEEN.

PART II.

JOHN xx. 29.
Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because then hast

seen me thou hast believed: blessed are they that

have not seen, and yet have believed.

WE have endeavoured to explain the na
ture of obscure faith: and now proceed, as was
proposed,

II. To point out the excellency of this ob
scure faith. After having- attempted to unfold
the ambiguity of the expression in my text,
"to believe without having seen," we must
endeavour to evince the truth of it, by demon
strating this proposition, announced by our
blessed Lord, " Blessed are they who have not
seen, and yet have believed."

These words admit of a very simple, and
very natural commentary, which we shall first
produce, in order to explain them. The point
in question is the resurrection of the Lord Je
sus: Thomas is to be convinced of the certain
ty of it, by nothing short of the testimony of
his own eyes: this mode of producing convic-
VOL. II.— 23

hand into his side, I will not believe," must
die and perish in unbelief. There was to be,
henceforward, no other way but this, of believ
ing without having seen, no other means of
arriving at a participation in the felicity of be
lievers: " Thomas, because thou hast seen me,
thou hast believed: blessed are they that have
not seen, and yet have believed."

This commentary contains much good sense.
It does not, however, seem to me to have ex
hausted the whole meaning of Jesus Christ.
God is supremely good: nothing appeared to
him too dear for the salvation of the human
race: he has made choice of means the best
adapted to the execution of this great work.
If he has made choice of means the best adapt
ed to the salvation of the human race, he has
likewise made choice of the properest method
of enabling us to avail ourselves of the ap
pointed means, and that method is obscure
faith. Why so? This is the point which we
must attempt to elucidate: and some time ago,
{ you will please to recollect, we undertook this
tasik. For when that /difficulty was urged
against us, which unbelievers make the sub
ject of their triumph, " Wherefore did not Je
sus Christ show himself alive after his passion,
to his judges, to his executioners?" We made
this reply, that the gift of working miracles
bestowed on the apostles, and on the first
Christians, constituted a proof more irresistible
of his resurrection, than if he had shown him
self then, nay, than if he were still to show
liimself risen at this day.

It might be retorted upon us, " That these
two proofs, that of miracles performed by his
disciples, and that of his personal manifesta
tion, were not incompatible with each other-
Jesus Christ might first have shown himself
alive after his resurrection; here would have
been one kind of proof: he might afterward,
upon his ascension, have sent the Holy Spirit
to his apostles; this would have constituted a
second kind of proof. These two kinds of
proof united, would have placed the truth of
his resurrection far beyond the reach of all sus
picion. Wherefore did he not employ them?
Wherefore did he not give to a truth of his
religion so interesting, and of such capital im
portance, every species of proof of which it is
susceptible?" To this we still reply, that ob
scure faith was a method far more proper to
conduct us to salvation than a clear faith,
founded on the testimony of the senses, or on
the personal discoveries of the believer him-

178

OBSCURE FAITH.

[SER. LXXIV,

self: "Ulessed are they that have not seen,
and yet have believed."

A principle which we have, on other occa
sions, laid down, will justify this reply, God
has placed us in this world, as in a place of
probation and sacrifice. It is his will that the
manner in which we correspond to this view
of his Providence, should determine our ever
lasting destiny. Let us try clearly to explain
this principle, before we apply it to the subject
in hand.

In strictness of speech, God will not pro
portion the celestial felicity, which he "reserves
for us, to the exertions which we make to at
tain it. Did God observe the rules of an exact
distribution in this respect, there is not a single
person in the world, who durst flatter himself
with being a partaker in that felicity: because
there is no one, I speak of even the greatest
saints, who does all that he ought, and all that
he might do, towards the attainment of it.
Much more, supposing us to have done all
that we could, and all that we ought to do, to
be admitted to a participation in this blessed
ness, our utmost efforts never could bear any
proportion to it. We must still say of every
thing we undertake in order to salvation, what
St. Paul says of the most cruel sufferings of
the martyrs: " They are not worthy to be com
pared with the glory which shall be revealed
in us," Rom. viii. 18. The most extravagant
thought, accordingly, that ever could find its
-way into the mind of man, is that of the per
sons who maintain the possibility of meriting
heaven by their good works, nay, the pos
sibility of a man's meriting the kingdom of
heaven for others, after having earned it for
himself.

But though there is not a proportion of ri
gorous justice, between the heavenly felicity,
and the efforts which we make to attain it,
there is a proportion of equity and of establish
ment. Permit me to explain what I mean by
these words: God will not save mankind unless
they exert themselves to obtain salvation. —
Had it been his will to extend indiscriminating
favour, he had only to open, without reserva^
tion, the path to heaven; he had only to exert
the supreme power, which he possesses over
our souls, to infuse into them virtue and illumi
nation, and to put us in possession of a felicity
already completely acquired, without subject
ing us to the necessity of employing indefatiga
ble and unintermitting efforts, in order to our
acquiring it. But his views respecting man are
altogether different from this. Hence it is
that he is pleased to represent the life of a
Christian, as a narrow path, in which he must
walk; as a race which he must run; as a task
which he must perform; as a warfare which he
has to accomplish. For this reason it is, that
salvation is represented to us, as a victory to
be won, as a prize to be gained, as a kingdom
which can be taken only by the violent. God,
then, has placed us in this world, as in a place
of probation and sacrifice: it is his sovereign
good pleasure, that the manner in which we
correspond to his gracious views, shall decide
our everlasting destination.

Let us apply this principle to the subject
under discussion; to that obscure faith, which
discerns, in the darkness of the past, those

facts on which the great truths of religion
rest, as the building on its foundation; to that
obscure faith, which penetrates into the dark
ness of futurity, there to discover the blessed
ness which religion proposes to us as the object
of hope.

1 . Let us apply the principle laid down, to
that obscure faith, which discerns, in the dark
ness of the past, those facts on which the great
truths of religion rest. There is more diffi
culty in attaining a discernment of the truth
through the darkness of the past, than in be
holding the object with a man's own eyes. It
is admitted. Had Jesus Christ appeared alive
to his judges and executioners, after his resur
rection: were he to appear to us, at this day,
as risen from the dead, we should have much
less difficulty in believing the certainty of aa
event on which the whole Christian religion
hinges. It is admitted. There would be
no occasion, in order to attain the convic
tion of it, to employ extensive reading, to con
sult doctors, to surmount the trouble of pro
found meditation, to suspend pleasure, to in
terrupt business. It is admitted. But the very
thing which constitutes your objection furnishes
me with a reply. The trouble which you must
take, before you can acquire conviction of the
resurrection of the Saviour of the world, the
extensive reading that is necessary, the consul
tation of learned men, those efforts of profound
meditation which you must employ, that sus
pension of your pleasures, that interruption of
your worldly business — all, all enter into the
plan of your salvation: it is the will of God
that you should exert yourselves diligently for
the attainment of it.

Let us suppose the case of two Christians:
the first shall be St. Thomas; the second a
Christian of our own days. Let us suppose
both the two equally convinced of the resur
rection of the Saviour of the world; but ac
quiring their conviction in two different ways:
Thomas convinced by the testimony of his
senses; the modern Christian, by the attentive
examination of the proofs which establish the
truth of it: Whether of these two Christians,
according to your judgment, expresses the
greater love of the truth? Whether of these
two Christians makes the greatest sacrifice in
order to arrive at the knowledge of it? The
one has only to open his eyes, the other must
enter on a course of deep and serious reflection.
The one has only to reach forth his hand, to
touch the print of the wounds of Jesus Christ;
the other must exert ail the powers of his mind,
in sifting the proofs, on which the doctrine is
established. The one expects that the Saviour
should present himself to him, and say, " Be
not faithless but believing," John xx. 27. The
other goes forth seeking after the Lord Jesus,
through the darkness in which he is pleased to
involve himself. Is it not evident that this
last expresses incomparably greater love for the
truth, and offers up to it greater sacrifices than
the first? This last, then corresponds better to
the idea of probation and sacrifice, to which
we are called, during the time which, by the
will of God, we are destined to pass in this
world. Blessed therefore, with respect to the
obscurity of the past, " blessed is he who has
not seen, and yet has believed."

SER. LXXIV,]

OBSCURE FAITH.

179

2. The same principle is applicable to what i tion, obey: I will depart, without delay, for the
concerns the night of futurity. It would re- land which he shall please to show me.
quire but feeble efforts, and would exhibit no ) Nothing can be more delightful to me, than

mighty sacrifice, for a man to deny himself the
delights of a present life, if the joys of the
paradise of God were disclosed to his eyes.

But how great is the magnanimity of the
Christian, how wonderful the fortitude of the
martyr, and, in propriety of speech, all Chris
tians are martyrs, who, resting on the promises
of God alone, immolates to the desire of pos
sessing a future and heavenly felicity, all that
is dear and valuable to him upon the earth?
The present, usually, makes the most powerful
impression on the mind of man. An object,
in proportion as it becomes exceedingly remote,
in some measure loses its reality with respect
to us. The impression made upon the mind by
sensible things engrosses almost its whole capa
city, and leaves little, if any portion, of its atten
tion, for the contemplation of abstract truths.
Farther, when abstract meditations dwell on
well known objects, they possibly may fix atten
tion, but when they turn on objects of which we
have no distinct idea, they are little calculated
to arrest and impress.

the possession of an only and beloved son: no
thing appears to me so dreadful, as separation
from a person so dear to me; but, above all,
there is nothing which inspires so much horror,
as the thought of plunging, with my own
hand, the dagger into his bowels. Nerverthe-
less, when it shall please God to say to me,
" Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou
lovest, and offer him for a burnt-offering, upon
one of the mountains which I will tell thee
of," Gen. xxii. 2, 1 will take that son, that ob
ject of my tenderest affection, that centre of
my desires, and of my complacency; I will
bind him; I will stretch him out upon the pile;
I will lift up my arm to pierce his side, per
suaded that the favour of God is a blessing,
beyond all comparison, more precious than the
possession of even that beloved portion of
myself.

There is nothing capable of more agreeably
flattering my ambition and self love, than to
talk with authority; than to govern a whole
world with despotic sway: than to rule over

A Christian, a man actuated by that obscure | the nations, which look up to their sovereigns

faith, whose excellency we are endeavouring
to unfold, surmounts all these difficulties. I
see neither the God who has given me the pro
mises of an eternal felicity: nor that eternal feli
city which he has promised me. This God con
ceals himself from my view. I must go from
principle to principle, and from one conclusion
to another, in order to attain full assurance that
he is. I find still much greater difficulty in ac
quiring the knowledge of what he is, than in
rising up to a persuasion of his existence. The
very idea of an infinite Being confounds and
overwhelms me. If I have only a very imper
fect idea of the God who has promised me eter
nal felicity, I know still less wherein that felicity
consists.

I am told of a "spiritual body," 1 Cor. xv.
44: a body glorious, incorruptible: I am told
of unknown faculties; of an unknown state;
of an unknown economy: I am told of " new
heavens and a new earth;" I am promised the
society of certain spirits, with whom I have
never enjoyed any kind of intercourse; I am
told of a place entirely different from that
which I now inhabit: and when I would repre
sent to myself that felicity under ideas of the
pleasures of sense, under ideas of worldly
magnificence, I am told that this felicity has
no resemblance to any of these things. Ne
vertheless, on the word of this God, of whom
J have a knowledge, so very imperfect, but
whose existence and perfections are so certain,
I am ready to sacrifice every thing, for a feli
city of which I have a still more imperfect
knowledge than I have of the God who has
promised it to me.

There is nothing more delightful to me, than
to live in the bosom of my country and kin
dred: my native air has in it something conge
nial to my constitution; nevertheless, were
God to call me as he did Abraham: were he
to say to me in the words which he addressed
to that patriarch; " Get thee out of thy coun
try and from thy kindred, and from thy father's
house," Gen. xii. 1. I will, without hesita-

as to so man}' divinities; nevertheless, were a
competition to be established between a throne,
a crown, and the blessedness of the heavenly
world, I would " esteem the reproach of Christ
greater riches than the treasures in Egypt:" I
would " choose rather to suffer affliction with
the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures
of sin for a season," Heb. xi. 25.

There is nothing to which my nature is more
reluctant, than the suffering of violent pain.
The idea of the rack, of being burnt at a stake,
makes me shudder. I am convulsed all over
at sight of a fellow-creature exposed to torture
of this kind. What would it be, were I my
self called to endure them? Nevertheless, the
lofty ideas I have conceived of a felicity which
I- have not seen, will elevate even me, above
the feelings of sense and nature: I will mount
a scaffold; I will extend myself upon the pile
which is to reduce me to ashes: 1 will surren
der my body to the executioners to be mangled;
and amidst all these torments, I will still cry
out with triumph, "I reckon that the sufferings
of this present time are not worthy to be com
pared with the glory which shall be revealed
in us," Rom. viii. 18, "for our light affliction,
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a
far more exceeding and eternal weight of glo
ry," 2 Cor. iv. 17. "Blessed be the Lord, my
strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and
my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1.

I ask, my brethren, does not a man in such
circumstances, correspond incomparably better
to the idea of probation and sacrifice, than the
person who should behold with his own eyes,
the eternal recompense of reward which God
has prepared for his children? The proposition
of our blessed Lord, therefore, is verified with
regard to periods still future, as with regard to
periods already past. The vocation of the
Christian, then, is to pierce through all those
clouds, in which God has been pleased to en
velop the religion of Jesus Christ: the voca
tion of the Christian is to pierce through the
obscurity of the past, and the obscurity of the

180

OBSCURE FAITH.

. LXXIV,

tbee, and thee only. Accept the dedication
which I now make. Bear with the weakness
in which it is made: approve the sincerity with
which I this day come to break off the re
maining attachments which fetter me down
to the world; and to bind closer those of my
communion with thee, the only worthy object
of love and desire."

How blessed shall we be, my beloved bre
thren, in thus penetrating through the obscuri
ty of the past! " Blessed are they who have
not seen, and yet have believed."

2. But let us likewise penetrate through
the darkness of futurity. Let hope supply to
us the want of possession. How shall it, hence
forward, be possible for us to entertain suspicion
against the faithfulness of God's promises? Be
hold on that table what God is capable of do
ing in our behalf. Behold by what miracles
of love — O miracles of the love of God, we
want language to express thee, as we want
ideas to conceive thee! but behold on that
table, behold by what miracles of love he has
prevailed to make us the rich present of his
own Son, to expose him, for our sakes, to all
that series of suffering which has been the sub
ject of our meditation during the weeks which
commemorate the passion.

Is it possible for us to believe that a God so
gracious and so compassionate could have cre
ated us to render us for ever miserable? Is it
possible to believe that a God so great, and so
munificent should limit his bounty towards us,
to the good things granted us here below, to
that air which we breathe, to the light which
illuminates this world, to the aliments which
sustain these bodies? Nay, is it possible for us
to believe that he should permit us to remain
long in this world, exposed to so many public
and private calamities; to war, to famine, to
mortality, to the pestilence, to sickness, to
death? Away with suspicions so injurious to
the goodness of our God. " He that spared
not his own Son, but delivered him up for
us all, how shall he not with him also freely
give us all things?" Rom. viii. 32. Let us in
dulge ourselves in feasting on the deliciousness
of this hope: let us not destroy the relish of it,
by wallowing in the pleasures of sense: let us
habituate ourselves to pursue happiness in a
conviction of the felicity prepared for us in
another world.

This hope, it is true, replenished as it is
with such unspeakable sweetness, is not with
out a mixture of bitterness. It is a hard thing
to be enabled to form such transporting ideas
of a felicity placed still so far beyond our reach.
" Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," Prov.
xiii. 12. But we shall not be suffered to lan
guish long. " For yet a little while, and he
that shall come will come, and will not tarry,"
Heb. x. 3". Yet a few short moments more,
and our great deliverer, Death, will come to
our relief. Let us not stand aghast at his ap
proach. It is not becoming in Christians, who
cannot attain the perfection of happiness till
after death, to be still afraid of dying. Let us,
on the contrary, anticipate the hour of death,
by the exercise of a holy ardour and zeal. Let
us look for it with submissive impatience:
" Having a desire to depart, and to be with
will think of thee, and thee only: I will live to I Christ, which is far better," Phil i. 23, than

future; it is to make study to supply the want
of experience, and hope the want of vision.
The felicity of the Christian depends on the
manner in which he corresponds to his high
vocation: " Thomas, because thou hast seen me,
thou hast believed: blessed are they that have
not seen, and yet have believed." This was
the point to be demonstrated.

It highly concerns us, my brethren, to fulfil
this twofold engagement, and thus to attain at
length, supreme felicity, in the way which it
has pleased God to trace for us. Let us,

1. Pierce through the obscurity of the past.
Let us learn to make study supply the want
of experience. Let us diligently apply our
selves to acquire the knowledge of our religion,
by seeking after assurance of the truth of those
facts, on which it is established. Of these, the
resurrection of Jesus Christ is one of the chief:
for " if Christ be not risen, then is our preach
ing vain, and your faith is also vain,

ye are yet in your sins," 1 Cor. xv. 14. 17.
But thanks be to God, this fact, of such capi
tal importance, is supported by proofs which
it is impossible for any reasonable man to resist.

But it requires a considerable degree of at
tention, of serious recollection, to study these
with advantage. To this study there must, of
necessity, be sacrificed some worldly employ
ment, some party of pleasure: a man must
sometimes retire into his closet, and get the
better of that languor which deep thought, and
close reading naturally produce. But, O how
nobly is he rewarded for all his labour, by the
copious harvest which it yields! What c dight
in discovering that God has proportioned the
weight of the proofs by which his religion is
supported, to the importance of each of its
parts! What consolation to see that this truth,
" Jesus Christ is risen," this truth which gives
us the assurance that God has accepted the
sacrifice of his Son, that the work of our salva
tion is accomplished, that access to the throne
of grace is opened to us, that the disorders in
troduced by sin are repaired! What consola
tion to see that a truth of such high importance
is so completely ascertained, and that so many
presumptions, so many proofs, so many demon
strations concur in establishing it!

What satisfaction is it, thus to transport our
selves, in thought, into the apostolic ages, there
to contemplate the wonders of redemption!
For this is the effect which study produces, of
those exquisitely conclusive and irresistible
proofs which demonstrate the truth of this
great event: it transports us into the apostolic
ages; it enables us to behold with the mind's
eye what we cannot behold with the eyes of
the body. After having thus torn up incredu
lity by the roots, with what an ecstacy of holy
delight may the Christian approach the table
of the Lord, with full conviction of soul, and
say to him with Thomas: " My Lord and my
God." The heart-affecting persuasion I have
of what thy love has done for me, elevates,
penetrates, overwhelms me. It will render
easy to me the most painful proofs which it
may please thee to prescribe to my gratitude.
"My Lord and my God, my Lord and my
God, I regret all the time I have devoted to
the world and its pleasures: henceforward I

SER. LXXV.]

THE BELIEVER EXALTED, &c.

181

any thing we can possibly enjoy in this valley
of tears. " He who testifieth these things, saith
surely I come quickly:" let us cry out, in re
turn, "Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus,
Rev. xxii. 20. Come, Redeemer of my soul:
I adore thee amidst the clouds in which thou
concealest thyself: but vouchsafe to scatter
them. After I have enjoyed the felicity of be
lieving, without having seen, let me likewise
have the felicity of seeing and believing. Let
me see with my eyes him whom my soul lov-
eth: let me contemplate that sacred side, from
whence issue so many streams of life for the
wretched posterity of Adam: let me admire
that sacred body which is the redemption of a
lost world: let me embrace that Jesus who
gave himself for me; and let me behold him,
never, never to lose sight of him more." God,
of his infinite mercy, grant us all this grace.
To him be glory for ever. Arnen.

SERMON LXXV.

THE BELIEVER EXALTED TOGETHER
WITH JESUS CHRIST.

PART I.
EPHESIANS ii. 4 — 6.

God who is rich in mercy, for his great love where
with he loved us, even when we were dead in
sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by
grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us up to
gether, and made us sit together in heavenly
places in Christ Jesus.

ON studying the history of the lives of those
eminent saints of God, whose memory Scrip
ture has transmitted to us, we can with diffi
culty refrain from deploring the extreme dif
ference which God has been pleased to make
between their privileges and ours. Nay, we
are sometimes disposed to flatter ourselves,
that if these privileges had been equal, our at
tainments in virtue might have made a nearer
approach to those which have rendered them
so respectable in the church. Who would not
surmount the difficulties of the most painful
career, if he were to enjoy, like Moses, inti
mate communications with Deity; if his eyes
were strengthened to behold that awful ma
jesty which God displayed on mount Sinai?
Who could retain the slightest shadow of in
credulity, and who would not be animated to
carry the gospel of Christ to the uttermost
boundaries of the globe, had he, like Thomas,
seen the Lord Jesus after his resurrection; had
Jesus Christ said to him, as he said to that
apostle: " Reach hither thy finger, and be
hold my hands: and reach hither thy hand, and
thrust it into my side: and be not faithless but
believing,1' John xx. 27. Who could remain
still swallowed up of the world, had he seen,
with the three disciples, Jesus Christ transfi
gured on the holy mount; or had he been,
with St. Paul, " caught up into the third hea
ven, and heard unspeakable words, which it is
not lawful for a man to utter?" 2 Cor. xii. 2. 4
I have no intention, my brethren, to inquire
how far this conception may be illusory, and
bow far it may be founded in truth: but I

wish you attentively to listen to the declara
tion made by the apostle, in the words of my
text. They stand in connexion with the last
verses of the preceding chapter. St. Paul had
advanced, not only that God bestows on every
believer, the same privileges in substance,
which he had vouchsafed to saints of the first
order, but that he actually works in them the
same wonders which he operated in Jesus
Christ when he restored to him that life which
he had laid down for the salvation of mankind,
and when, amidst the acclamations of the church
triumphant, he received him into paradise.

In the text, our apostle expresses in detail,
what he had before proposed in more general
terms. He says, that as Jesus Christ, when
dead, was restored to life, and raised from the
tomb; in like manner we, who "were dead in
trespasses and sins," have been " quickened,"
and " raised up," together with him: and that
as Jesus Christ, when raised up from the dead,
was received into heaven, and " seated on his
Father's right hand," in like manner we, after
our spiritual resurrection, are admitted to a
participation of the same glory. Let us view
these two texts in their connexion, in order to
comprehend the full extent of the apostle's
idea: God, as we read in the conclusion of the
preceding chapter, the "God of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, has displayed
what is the greatness of his power to us-ward
who believe, according to the working of his
mighty power; which he wrought in Christ,
when he raised him from the dead, and set him
at his own right hand in the heavenly places,
.... and put all things under his feet." And
in the words of the text, " God who is rich in
mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved
us, even when we were dead in sins, hath
quickened us together with Christ (by grace
ye are saved,) arid hath raised us up together,
and made us sit together in heavenly places in
Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 4—6.

This proposition, I acknowledge, seems to
present something hyperbolical, which it is not
easy to reconcile to the strictness of truth: but
the difficulties which prevent our comprehend-
ng it, do not so much affect the understanding
as the heart. It would be much more intelli
gible, were the love of the creature less pre
dominant in us, and did it less encroach upon
the feelings necessary to our perception of a
truth, which is almost altogether a truth of
feeling. We should accordingly, have been
cautious how we ventured to treat such a sub-
ect, at our ordinary seasons of devotion; but,
on this day, we believe all things possible to
your pious affections. We believe that there
can be nothing too tender, nothing too highly
superior to sense, on a solemnity,* when it is
•o be presumed, that, with the apostles, you.
are " looking steadfastly towards heaven," af-
.er an ascending Saviour, that you are follow-
ng him with heart and mind, and saying,
' Draw us, Lord, we will run after thee."

Before we enter farther into our subject,
;here are a few advices which we would beg
leave to suggest, which may predispose you
more clearly to comprehend it.

1. Learn to distinguish the degrees of that

Ascension Day.

182

THE BELIEVER EXALTED

. LXXV.

disposition of mind, which our apostle is de
scribing. He represents the Christian as a man
on whose heart divine grace has made impres
sions so lively, that he is already " quickened,"
already " raised up," already " made to sit in
heavenly places in Christ Jesus." This dispo
sition, in whatever it may consist, (which we
shall endeavour presently to explain with
greater precision,) this disposition admits of
degrees; I mean to say, that it is possible to be
a Christian not only in name, and by profes
sion, but a Christian in truth and reality, with
out having as yet attained it in the most emi
nent degree. It was necessary to make this
observation, by way of prevention of a mental
malady, as commonly to be met with in these
provinces as any where else.

Certain circumstances peculiar to your
selves, have constrained your preachers fre
quently to inculcate the doctrine of the effi
cacy of divine grace, and of the sentiment
which it impresses on the heart. This doc
trine has sometimes been misunderstood. Some
have considered certain rapturous emotions,
excited in the souls of a few highly favoured
Christians, by the power of the Holy Spirit,
as the essential character of Christianity. It
has been erroneously supposed, that to be
destitute of these was to be abandoned of
God. Hence have arisen those gloomy and
desponding ideas which weak minds form re
specting their own state, especially at those
seasons when the Lord's Supper is administer
ed. The books generally read, as a prepara
tion for participating in this solemn service,
tell us, that it is at the table of the Lord, in a
particular manner, the communicant experi
ences those communications of the fulness of
joy, Ps. xvi. 11, "that joy unspeakable and
full of glory," 1 Pet. i. 8.' that "peace of God
which passeth all understanding," Phil. iv. "7,
that " white stone, and in the stone a new name
written, which no man knoweth saving he that
receiveth it," Rev. ii. 17, that anticipated re
surrection, that heaven upon earth.

What has been written on this subject is lia
ble to misconception on the part of the reader,*
as it may have been expressed with too much
precision by the composers of such manuals of
devotion. Hence it comes to pass, that real
Christians, who, notwithstanding the imperfec
tion which cleaves to their best services, have
most sincerely devoted the remainder of life to
God, are haunted with the apprehension of
having communicated unworthily, because
they are not conscious of having felt, at the
Lord's table, all those effects of the presence
of the Holy Spirit.

To Christians of this description it is, that I
address my first advice, that they distinguish
the degrees of that disposition cf mind of
which our apostle speaks in the text. A man
may be quickened, may be raised up, may be
made to sit together with Christ Jesus in hea
venly places, without having all the joy which
results from this blessed state. The most in
fallible mark of our being made partakers in
the exaltation of the Lord Jesus, is our striving
in good earnest, to fulfil the conditions under
which that participation is promised us. Let
us fortify ourselves in this disposition of mind,
and wait patiently till it shall please God to

smooth the difficulties which we encounter in
this work, by the pleasure derived from a con
sciousness of having surmounted them in part,
and by the assurance which we have of at
length surmounting them altogether.

2. The second advice which I presume to
suggest is this, be on your guard against the
love of the marvellous. It is far from being
impossible that a man should confound the ef
fects of an imagination heated by its own vi
sionary workings, with those which the Holy
Spirit produces in a soul of which he has taken
entire possession. A person animated by the
spirit of God, can easily distinguish his state
from that of an enthusiast: but the enthusiast
cannot always distinguish his state from that
of one animated by the Spirit of God. In ge
neral, the road of discussion is incomparably
more sure and direct to reach the conscience,
and to form a right judgment of it, than the
road of feeling. I know that there are certain
feelings superior to discussion. I know that
the Holy Spirit sometimes diffuses his influence
through the soul, in such abundance, with so
much fervour, with so much activity, that it is
not possible the persons thus highly favoured
should be ignorant that they are the objects of
his tenderest and most particular care. But in
order to our being warranted to promise our
selves such communications, the practice of
piety must have been carried farther, beyond
all comparison, than is commonly the case
with most of those who flatter themselves that
they have been favoured with singular commu
nications of the Spirit. And, once more, the
method of discussion is by much the surer, to
arrive at a true judgment of the real disposi
tions of the conscience, than the test of feel
ing; in which the temperament, or the imagi
nation have frequently a larger share than real
illumination.

Weigh in the balance the proofs on which
the ideas you have formed of yourselves are
foi*nded. Compare your thoughts, your words,
your actions, with the august rules and deci
sions which God has laid down in his holy
word. Regulate your hopes and your fears,
according to the characters which you may
have discovered in yourselves, after you have
studied the subject in this manner. So much
for the second advice, which I thought it of
importance to suggest.

3. Permit me to subjoin a third. Under
pretence of guarding against the reveries of
the enthusiast, and against the love of the mar
vellous, presume not to call in question certain
extraordinary operations of the Holy Spirit,
and neglect not the means of obtaining them.
Dispute not with saints of a superior order what
they know by experience to be real. Presume
not to establish that measure of grace which
you may have received, as the standard for de
termining that which God is pleased to grant
to persons more devoted than you are to his
service. Form not your judgment from the
pleasure which you may at present derive from
religion, of that which you may hereafter en
joy, when religion shall have acquired a more
powerful influence over your heart. Be not
discouraged by the dryness and discomfort
which you may now find in the practice of vir
tue? in time you will experience it to be a pe-

LXXV.]

TOGETHER WITH JESUS CHRIST.

183

rennial source of delight. This is my third
advice.

Having premised these necessary precau
tions, let us attempt to justify the idea which
is here given us of the Christian. Let us place
in contrast, the condition in which he was, pre
vious to his being converted to Christianity,
and that which he has attained in virtue of his
having become a Christian. Before he em
braced the religion of Jesus Christ, he was
"dead in trespasses and sins." This is a figu
rative expression, denoting, that sinners are as
incapable of themselves, to shake off the do
minion of sin, and the misery inseparable from
it, as a dead person is to defend himself against
corruption, and to restore his own life. But by
becoming a Christian, the believer is, through
the mercy of God, not only set free from the
dominion of sin, but is put in possession of the
highest recompense of reward that justice ever
bestowed on trie most perfect virtue which ever
existed, namely, that of Jesus Christ.

If " never man spake like this man," John
vii. 46, never man lived and acted like this
man. Accordingly, never was there a man
exalted to such a height of felicity and glory.
Now to this very height of felicity and glory
the grace of God exalts the Christian. How?
In more ways than we are able to indicate, in
the time now left us. I satisfy myself with
pointing out three of these. The believer is
" quickened^ he is raised up, he is made to sit
together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus."

I. By the proofs which assure him of the ex
altation of Jesus Christ.

II. By the means supplied to satisfy him that
he is fulfilling the conditions under which he
may promise himself, that he shall become a
partaker of that exaltation.

III. By the foretaste which he now enjoys
of it on the earth.

I. By the proofs which assure him of the ex
altation of Jesus Christ. It is not necessary
here to detail them in their full extent. This
has been already done on former occasions.*
We have shown you, that, in support of the
truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ (and
the same reasonings apply, with nearly the
same force, to all the particulars of his exalta
tion,) we have presumptions, proofs, demon
strations. But, as I have just said, it is not
necessary here to make a minute recapitula
tion.

But I would wish to unfold under this head,
the true causes which prevent those proofs, ir
resistible as they are, from producing, on the
mind of the greater part of Christians, that
lively impression which would justify the hy
perbolical language employed by our apostle,
that Christians have a conviction as complete
of the truth of the exaltation of Jesus Christ,
as if they had been " quickened," as if they
had been "raised up," as if they were "made
to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Je
sus." The following are the principal causes
of this sore evil.

I. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus
Christ, do not produce impressions so lively as
they ought, from the abuse of a distinction

* Consult the Sermon on Christ's Resurrection, of Mr.
Bobmson"* rejection.

between mathematical evidence, and moral evi
dence. A scruple in point of precision, haa
given rise to this distinction. We call that
mathematical evidence, which is founded on the
clear idea of a subject. I have a clear idea of
two even numbers. This proposition, from the
addition of two even numbers, there results an
even number, is founded upon an evidence
which arises from the clear idea of that num
ber. That is called moral evidence, which is
founded on testimony worthy of credit. I
have, naturally, no idea of the city of Con
stantinople. I can decide the question of its
existence, only upon testimony of a certain
kind. This distinction is undoubtedly a real
one. But it is making a strange abuse of it to
pretend, that what is founded on the evidence
denominated moral is not so certain as that
which is founded on what is denominated ma
thematical evidence. Two reasons persuade me
of this, which I submit to your consideration.

1. It involves no less contradiction, that a
complex concurrence of circumstances should
unite with respect to a false testimony, than
that there should be falsehood in a consequence
deduced immediately from the nature of a sub
ject. It involves no less contradiction to affirm,
that all the witnesses, who assure me there is a
city called Constantinople, have agreed to im
pose upon me, that it involves a contradiction
to allege, that this proposition is illusory, from
the addition of two even numbers there results
an even number.

2. The second reason is still more forcible.
It is taken from the nature of God himself.
We have mathematical evidence for this, that
God cannot take pleasure in leading men into
error. But God would take pleasure in lead
ing men into error, if after having made the
truth of their religion to rest on the existence
of certain facts, which are susceptible only of
proofs of fact, he had bestowed on imaginary
facts, the same characters of truth which he
has impressed on such as are real. The truth
of our religion is founded on these facts: Jesus
Christ is risen, and has ascended into heaven:
but this exaltation is supported by all the evi
dence of which facts are susceptible. If the
exaltation of Jesus Christ is merely imaginary,
God has permitted imaginary facts to assume
all the evidence of real facts. God, therefore,
betrays him into error. But we have mathe
matical evidence that it is impossible for God
to betray men into error. It is clear, therefore,
as I think, that moral evidence, when carried
to a certain degree, ought to be ranked in the
same class with mathematical evidence. The
truth of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus,
therefore, will not produce the lively impres
sions which we have mentioned, so long as
men abuse, which is the case with certain
philosophers, the distinction between moral
evidence, and mathematical evidence.

I. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus
Christ produce not impressions so lively as
they ought, because the mind is under the in
fluence of a prejudice, unworthy of a real phi
losopher, namely, that moral evidence changes
its nature, according to the nature of the things
to which it is applied. What is demonstration
of a fact, which is in the sphere of natural
things, seems to cease to be such respecting

184

THE BELIEVER EXALTED, &c.

[Sen. LXXV

facts of a supernatural kind. A certain spe
cies of proof will be sufficient to demonstrate
that Cesar existed: and that same species of
proof shall be deemed insufficient to ascertain
that Moses existed. What a strange disposi
tion of mind!. The truth of a fact, which does
not in itself imply a contradiction, depends not
on the nature of that fact, but on the proofs
by which it is supported.

I am ready to admit, that stronger proof
will be expected, in order to produce belief of
extraordinary events, than is necessary to esta
blish the truth of what happens every day; to
produce belief, for instance, that a great scho
lar is humble, calls for stronger proof than that
he is vain; to produce belief, that a friend is
as faithful in adversity as he was in prosperity,
than that he is less so. But what is evidence
with respect to ordinary facts, is likewise so
with respect to such as are extraordinary.
What is evidence with respect to natural
things, is likewise so with respect to such as
are supernatural. Nothing more unreasona
ble can be conceived than the disposition ex
pressed by the apostle Thomas. All the mem
bers of the apostolic college, unanimously as
sure him that Jesus Christ is risen from the
dead. They adduce this proof of it, that they
had beheld him with their own eyes. No,
says he, "except I see in his hands the print
of the nails, and put my fingers into the print
of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side,
I will not believe," John xx. 25. Wherefore
does that which would have been evidence to
him on another occasion, cease to be so on
this? It is because the matter in question is
something supernatural. But the question is
not, whether the resurrection of Jesus Christ
be within the sphere of natural things, but
whether it is founded on proofs sufficient to
constitute satisfying evidence.

3. The proofs of the exaltation of the Lord
Jesus produce not impressions sufficiently live
ly, because the necessary discrimination has not
been employed in the selection of those proofs,
on which some have pretended to establish it.
This remark has a reference to certain of the
learned, who imagined that they were render
ing essential service to the church, when they
multiplied proofs, with an indiscreet zeal, and
produced every thing which they deemed fa
vourable to the Christian religion. Fraud, fair
dealing, all, all appeared equal in their eyes,
provided it would contribute to this end.
Wretched method! Why was it not confined
to the propagators of falsehood; and why has
it been so frequently adopted by the partisans
of truth! I pretend not to determine whether
there be much solidity in the idea of some who
have alleged, that the reason why Jesus Christ
so strictly prohibited the demons to publish
that he was the Messiah, was an apprehension
that a testimony borne to his mission by lying
spirits, might render the truth of it suspected.
But I am well assured that if any thing could
have excited a suspicion in my niind unfa
vourable to the exaltation of the Son of God,
it would have been that medley of proofs,
solid and without foundation, which we find in
the writings of certain ancient doctors of the
church on this subject. No one will ever at
tain to a complete conviction of the exaltation

of Jesus Christ, so long as he neglects to dis
criminate the proofs on which the truth of it
rests, The discovery of the slightest falsehood
in those which we had believed to be true,
will go far towards invalidating the proof of
those which we had good reason to believe
founded in truth.

4. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus
Christ produce not impressions sufficiently
lively, because we are too deeply affected by
our inability to resolve certain questions, which
the enemies of religion are accustomed to put,
on some circumstances relative to that event.
The evangelists have recorded all those which
are necessary to convince us of the truth of the
resurrection of Jesus Christ. Their silence
respecting circumstances of another kind, and
our inability to satisfy the demands of those
who insist upon them, present nothing to ex
cite suspicion against the fidelity of their nar
ration. They do not tell us, for example, what
Jesus Christ did immediately after his resur
rection, and before his appearing to the devout
women, and to the apostles. They do not tell
us what he did during the forty days which he
passed upon the earth before his ascension.
They do not tell us to whom those dead per
sons appeared, who came into the holy city to
attest his resurrection, nor what became of
them after their apparition. The Holy Spirit,
perhaps, was not pleased to reveal such things
to those inspired men. Perhaps they did not
think proper to declare them, though they
might have had perfect information on the sub
ject. But is there any thing in this, to invali
date the proofs on which the truth of the re
surrection of Jesus Christ is founded? Is there
any one ancient history, I say any one without
exception, that goes into a certain detail of cir
cumstances? Are we acquainted with all the
circumstances of the life of Alexander, or of
Darius? Does our ignorance respecting such
and such particulars suggest a doubt whether
those persons ever existed? Do we know all
the circumstances attending the battle pf Can
nae, and that of Pharsalia. Does our igno
rance of these suggest a doubt whether such
battles were actually fought? Is it fair to pre
scribe to the sacred authors rules which we
readily dispense with in the case of profane
authors?

5. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus
Christ produce not impressions sufficiently
lively, because we suffer ourselves to be inti
midated more than we ought, by the compari
son instituted between them and certain popu
lar rumours, which have no better support
than the caprice of the persons who propagate
them. Unbelievers tell us that the multitude
is credulous, that it is ever disposed to be prac
tised upon by impostures, from the idea of the
marvellous. They accumulate all those noted
instances of credulity which ancient and mo
dern history abundantly supply, for it costs
very little trouble indeed, to make the collec
tion ample. They avail themselves of those
instances to invalidate the argument which we
adduce from the unanimity of that testimony
which evinces the truth of the resurrection of
Jesus Christ. But let them show us, among
what they call " popular rumours," let them
show us among these any thing of the same

SER. LXXV.]

THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN, &c.

185

kind with those which we have produced: and
then we shall feel ourselves called upon to de
fend, in another way, the doctrine in question.
But under the pretext that mankind is cre
dulous, obstinately to resist the force of proofs
which have been admitted by judges the most
rigid and acute, is wilfully to shut the eyes
against the truth.

6. Finally, the proofs of the truth of the ex
altation of our blessed Lord and Saviour, pro
duce not impressions sufficiently lively, because
they are not sufficiently known. The preced
ing particulars chiefly relate to the learned,
and the philosophic part of mankind, of whom
the number, undoubtedly, is on comparison
very inconsiderable. This relates to the mul
titude, of which the far greater part of our
audiences is composed. I am well aware that
those proofs have been carried farther in the
present age, than ever had been done, perhaps,
since the days of the apostles. I have oftener
than once, adored the conduct of divine Pro
vidence, in that the objections of unbelievers,
of which it may likewise be affirmed, that they
have been carried farther in the present age,
than they had been since the times of the ear
liest antagonists of the Christian religion: I
have oftener than once, I say, adored the con
duct of divine Providence, in that those objec
tions have furnished occasion to scrutinize the
proofs of the facts, on which the truth of Chris
tianity rests.

In proportion as events are more remote, the
more difficult it becomes to ascertain them. If
the spirit of superstition and blind credulity
had continued to be the reigning folly of man
kind, men would have neglected to study the
proofs of the facts of which I have been speak
ing, and we should have had in later ages,
much greater trouble in demonstrating the
truth of them. But infidelity is the reigning
folly of the age in which we live, and has, as
it were, succeeded the spirit of superstition and
blind credulity, the reigning folly of ages past.
Now Providence has so ordered the course of
things, that this very infidelity should prove
the pccasion of placing, in their clearest point
of light, those illustrious proofs which we have
of the facts, whereon the Christian religion is
founded. But though they have been stated
with so much clearness and precision, it is un
doubtedly certain that they are not hitherto
sufficiently known by the generality of pro
fessing Christians.

Would you be thoroughly convinced of the
exaltation of the Saviour of mankind, devote
to the study, which I am recommending, a
part, I do not say only of that time which you
so liberally bestow on the world and its plea
sures, but a part of even that which you have
thrown away upon useless controversies,. on the
speculative questions, and the bold researches,
with which most books, on the subject of reli
gion, are filled. Let the mind be deeply im
pressed with that series of presumptions, of
arguments, of demonstrations, of which the
resurrection, and the other particulars of the
exaltation of the Son of God are susceptible.
Do all diligence to discern the whole evidence
of those facts, without which, to use the apos
tle's expression, "your faith is vain, and our
preaching also is vain," 1 Cor. xv. 14. Then
VOL. II.— 24

you will perceive, that the truth of the exalta
tion of the Saviour is founded upon proofs,
which it is impossible for any reasonable man
to resist. You will be, in some measure, as
much convinced that he is raised up from the
dead, and ascended into heaven, as if you had
seen him with your own eyes bursting asunder
the bars of the grave, and assuming his seat at
the right hand of the Father: you will be in
this first sense, " quickened together with
Christ, and raised up, and made to sit together
in heavenly places with him."

SERMON LXXV.

THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN
THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST.

PART II.

EPHESIANS ii. 4 — 6.

God who is rich in mercy, for his great love where-
with he loved us, even when we were dead in
sins, hath quickened us together uiith Christ
(by grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us up
together, and made us sit together in heavenly
places in Christ Jesus.

HAVING given a few preliminary advices
relative to my subject, I went on to justify the
accuracy of the apostle's idea, by showing, that
the Christian is " quickened, raised up, seated
in heavenly places, together with Christ."

I. By the reasons which persuade him of
the certainty of the exaltation of Jesus Christ.
I now proceed to justify St. Paul's idea by
showing,

II. The Christian's participation in the
glory of Jesus Christ, by the means with
which he is furnished of knowing himself, and
of attaining assurance that he is fulfilling the
conditions under which he is enabled to pro
mise himself an interest in that exaltation. I
do not mean to insinuate, that this knowledge
is of easy attainment. I maintain, on the con
trary, that it is one of the most difficult which
can be proposed to man. And without enter
ing here into a detail of the reasons which
evince the difficulty of it, it is sufficient for me
to adduce a single one; it is the smallness of
the number of those who know themselves.
The judgments which men form of their own
character, is an inexhaustible source of ridi
cule. The world is crowded with people to
tally blind, especially where they themselves
are concerned.

What illusions do they practise upon them
selves, with respect to the body! How many
are there whom Nature has sadly degraded in
point of person: forms which you would say
were only blocked out, and of which, if I may
use the expression, God seems to have erected
only the first scaffoldings, conceive of them
selves ideas directly opposite to the truth.
Talk of the corporeal qualities of such and
such persons, and they will be among the first
to make them an object of derision, and dis
cover this to be too slim, that to be too gross;
falling foul of the whole human race, and
showing tenderness to no one but themselves.
If we are thus subject to blindness, where

186

THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN

[SER. LXXV.

things sensible, palpable, are concerned, how
much greater must be the danger, where mat
ters of a very different complexion address
themselves to our self love.

We practise illusion upon ourselves, on the
score of our understanding. How many ig
norant, dull, stupid people betray a conceit
that they are intelligent philosophers, profound
politicians; that they possess a judgment ac
curate, enlightened, uncommon; and are so
powerfully prepossessed with the belief of this,
that the combined universe could not drive
them out of it. Hence it comes to pass, that
they are for ever taking the lead in society,
exacting attention, courting admiration, pro
nouncing, deciding peremptorily, and seeming
to say at every turn, am not I a most extraor
dinary personage? But you have never had
the advantage of a course of education, or of
regular study. No matter; talents supply every
deficiency. But no one presents incense to
you, yourself only excepted. Still it signifies
nothing: it is the wretched taste of the present
age. But you are actually a laughing-stock
to mankind. No matter still: it has always
been the lot of great men to be the object of
envy and calumny.

We practise illusion upon ourselves in fa
vour of our heart. Should you chance to be
in a circle of slanderers, and bear your testi
mony against slander, the whole company will
instantly take your side. The most criminal
will endeavour to pass for the most innocent.
They will tell you that it is the most odious,
abominable, execrable of vices. They will
tell you that the severest punishments ought
to be adjudged against the offender, that he
ought to be excluded from all human society.
And the very persons who are themselves ac
tuated by this detestable passion, who are
themselves diffusing the baleful poison of their
malignity, apprehend not that they are, in the
slightest degree, chargeable with such a vice.
Have you no knowledge, my brethren, of such
a portrait? Have I been depicting to you
manners which have no existence in real life?
If there be any among you incapable of dis
covering himself under such similitudes as
these, it is a demonstration of what I wished
to prove, that it is a very difficult thing for a
man to know himself.

But though this knowledge be extremely
difficult, it is by no means impossible of attain
ment. The believer employs two methods,
principally to arrive at it. 1. He studies his
own heart. 2. He shrinks not from the in
spection of the eyes of another.

1. First, the believer studies his own heart.
Let it not appear matter of astonishment that
the generality of mankind are so little ac
quainted with themselves. They are almost
always from home; external objects engross all
the powers of their mind; they never dive to
the bottom of their own conscience. Does it
deserve the name of searching the heart, if a
man employs a rapid and superficial self-ex
amination, by reading a few books of prepara
tion, on the eve of a communion solemnity: if
he devote a few moments attention to the
maxims of a preacher, much more with a de
sign to apply them to others, than to inaKe
them a test of his own conduct? How is it

possible, by means of an examination so cur
sory, to attain a knowledge which costs the
most eminent saints so much application?

A real Christian studies himself in a very
different manner. With the torch of the gos
pel in his hand, he searches into the most se
cret recesses of conscience. He traces his ac
tions up to their real principles. When he
has performed an act of virtue, he scrupulously
examines whether he had been actuated by
some merely human respect, or whether it pro
ceeded from a sacred regard to the law of God.
When he unhappily is overtaken, and falls into
sin, he carefully examines whether he was be
trayed into it by surprise, or whether, by the
prevalence of corruption in his heart, and from
the love of the world still exercising dominion
over him. When he abstains from certain
vices, he examines whether it proceeded from
real self-government, or merely from want of
means and opportunity; and he asks himself
this question, what would I have done, had I
been placed in such and such circumstances?
Would I have preserved my innocence, with
Joseph, or lost it, as David did? Would I,
with Peter, have denied Jesus Christ, or have
endured martyrdom in his ca.use, like Stephen?

2. The second method which the believer em
ploys to arrive at the knowledge of his own
heart, is to permit others to unveil it to his
eyes: this is done particularly, either by the
public instructions of the faithful ministers of
the gospel, or by the private admonitions of a
judicious and sincere friend: two articles very
much calculated to explain to us the reasons
why most men attain such an imperfect know
ledge of themselves.

It is with difficulty we can digest those ad
dresses from the pulpit, in which the preacher
ventures to go into certain details, without
which it is impossible for us to acquire self-
knowledge. We are fond of dwelling on ge
nerals. Our own portrait excites disgust,
when the resemblance is too exact. It is a
circumstance well worthy of being remarked,
that what we admire the most in the sermons
of the dead, is the very thing which gives most
offence in the sermons of the living. When
we read, in discourses pronounced several ages
ago, those bold strictures in which the preach
ers unmasked the hypocrites of their times, re
proved the vices of the great as freely as those
of the little, attacked adultery, extortion, a ty
rannical spirit, in the very presence of the of
fenders, we are ready to exclaim, What zeal!
What courage! What firmness! But when a
preacher of our own days presumes to form
himself after such excellent models; when he
would copy the example of Elijah, who said
to Ahab, " I have not troubled Israel; but thou
and thy father's house," 1 Kings xviii. 18,
when he would follow the example of Nathan,
who said to David, " Thou art the man," 2
Sam. xii. 7, or that of John Baptist, who said
to Herod, " It is not lawful for thee to have
thy brother's wife," Mark vi. 18, then the cry
is, What audacity! What presumption! It
would be improper, my brethren, to extend
any farther my remarks on this subject at
present; but I may be permitted, at least, to
borrow the words of Jesus Christ, addressed to
his disciples; " I have yet many things to say

SER. LXXV.j

THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST.

187

unto you, but ye cannot bear them now," John
vi. 12.

If we are unable to digest public discourses
of the description which we have been giving,
much less are we disposed to bear with the
private admonitions of a judicious and sincere
friend, who is so faithful as to unveil to us our
own heart. What a treasure is a friend, who
keeps constantly in view, I do not say our ho
nour only, our reputation, but more especially
our duty, our conscience, our salvation! What
a treasure is a man, who employs the influence
which he may have over us, only for the pur
pose of undeceiving us when we are in an er
ror; of bringing us back when we have gone
astray; of assisting us to unravel and detect
the pretences which the deceitfulness of the
human heart uses to justify to itself its wan
derings and weaknesses! What a treasure is a
man, who has the honesty to say to us, accord
ing as circumstances may require: " Here it
was your want of experience that misled you;
there, it was the prejudice of a faulty educa
tion: on that occasion you was betrayed,
through the seduction of those flatterers, in
whose society you take so much delight: on
this, it was the too favourable opinion which
you had formed of yourselves, which would
persuade you, that you are ever sincere in
your conversation; ever upright in your inten
tions; ever steady in your fellowships!"

Nevertheless, we usually look upon this
precious treasure not only with disdain, but
even with horror. It is sufficient to make us
regard a man with an eye of suspicion, that he
has discovered our weak side. It is sufficient
for him to undertake to paint us in our true
colours, to be perfectly odious to us. A real
Christian employs all the means with which
he is furnished, to unveil his own heart to him
self. By dint of study, he acquires the know
ledge of himself. Having acquired this im
portant knowledge, he seriously and resolutely
sets about personal reformation; and he makes
progress in it. He examines this new state
into which divine grace has introduced him;
and rinding within himself the characters of
Christianity, he lays hold of its promises. He
becomes assured of its being in the class of
those to whom they are made. And what is
it to possess such assurance? It is to have an
anticipated possession of all the blessings which
are the object of it. It is to be already quick
ened, already raised up, already made to sit in
heavenly places together with Jesus Christ.

III. Finally, the believer is quickened, he is
raised up, he is made to sit together in heavenly
places, by means of the foretastes which he en
joys of his participation in the exaltation of the
Saviour of the v/orld. Should any one accuse
me, of myself running under this head, upon
that rock of the marvellous, against which I
cautioned my hearers, under a preceding branch
of my discourse, I would request his attention
to the following series of propositions, which I
barely indicate in so many words.

1st Proposition. God possesses a sovereign
empire over all perceptions of our souls; he is [
able to excite in them such as he pleases, either i
with the concurrence of external objects, or :
without that concurrence.

2d Proposition. In the order of nature, God |

has united the compendious road of sensation
to the more circuitous one of reasoning, for the
preservation of our body. What is noxious to
the body, makes itself known to us, not only
by a process of reasoning, but by certain dis
agreeable sensations, winch warn us to keep at
a distance from it. Whatever contributes to
its preservation, makes itself known by plea
surable sensations, and thereby engages us to
make use of it.

3d Proposition. It by no means involves a
contradiction, to say, that if it was the will of
God, in the order of nature, that the compen
dious road of sensation should supply the more
circuitous one of reasoning, he may sometimes
be pleased to conform to the same economy, in
the order of grace.

4th Proposition. We are assured not only
by reason, that God may adopt this mode oi
proceeding, but Scripture and experience teach
us, that he actually does so, in the case of cer
tain Christians of a superior order.

I compare those sensations of grace to the
movements by which the prophets were ani
mated, and which permitted them not the
power of doubting whether or not it was the
effect of the presence of God in their souls;
movements which produced conviction that
God intended to make use of their ministry,
and constrained them in many cases to act in
contradiction to their own inclinations. Never
was mission more glorious than that of Jere
miah. Never was mission more difficult and
more burdensome. He was called to open his
mouth in maledictions, levelled against his fel
low-citizens, and to be himself exposed as a
butt to the execrations of that people. Over
whelmed under the pressure of a ministry so
distressful, he exclaims, " Wo is me, my mo
ther, that thou hast born me a man of strife,
and a man of contention to the whole earth,"
chap. xv. 10. He does more. He forms the
resolution of renouncing a ministry which has
become the bitterness of his life: "The word
of the Lord is made a reproach unto me, and a
derision daily; then I said, I will not make
mention of hirn, nor speak any more in his
name," chap. xx. 8, 9. But God lays hold of
him, by invisible bonds, and which he finds it
impossible to shake off: " the word of the Lord
is made a reproach unto me, and a derision
daily; then I said, I will not make mention of
him, nor speak any more in his name: but his
word was in mine heart, as a burning fire shut
up in my bones, and I was weary with for
bearing, and I could not stay," ver. 9. " O
Lord, thou hast deceived" (enticed) " me, and
I was deceived," (enticed:) " thou art stronger
than I, and hast prevailed," ver. 7.

I am persuaded that many among you have
experienced in your vocation, something simi
lar to what the prophet experienced in his. I
am persuaded that many of you have been at
tracted by those irresistible bands, and have
felt that sacred flame kindle in your soul,
which the Holy Spirit communicates to the
regenerated, and which puts these words into
the mouths of the disciples, who were travel
ling to Emmaus, " Did not our heart burn
within us, while he talked with us by the way,
and while he opened to us the Scriptures?"
Luke xxiv. 32.

188

THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN

[SBR. LXXV.

Now, if you call upon me to go into a more
particular detail on this subject, I will say to
you, that however mysterious this operation of
the grace of God may be; whatever difficulty
may appear in exactly ascertaining the time of
its communication, it is imparted to believers,
in five situations chiefly. 1. When shutting
the door of his closet, and excluding the world
from his heart, the Christian enjoys commu
nion with Deity. 2. When Providence calls
him to undergo some severe trial. 3. When
he has been enabled to make some noble and
generous sacrifice. 4. When celebrating the
sacred mysteries of redeeming love. 5. Finally,
in the hour of conflict with the king of terrors.

1. When shutting the door of his closet, and
excluding the world from his heart, he is ad
mitted to communion and fellowship with
Deity, in retirement and silence. There it is
that a commerce is instituted, the charms of
which I should to no purpose undertake to
display, unless they were known to you by ex
perience. There it is that the believer com
pensates to himself the time of which he has
been constrained to defraud his God; and there
it is, that God compensates to the believer,
the delights of which the commerce of the
world has deprived him. There it is that the
believer pours out into the bosom of his Father
and his God, the sorrow excited by the recol
lection of his offences, and that he sheds the
tears of a repentance which love has enkindled,
and expresses in terms such as these:

" My God, I know that love is thy predomi
nant character, and that it cannot be thy will
I should perish: but I am ashamed of my own
weakness; I am ashamed of the little progress
I have made in religion, since the time thou
hast been pleased to grant me a revelation of
it. I am ashamed to reflect that such an ac
cumulation of benefits as thou hast conferred
upon me, should have still produced so slight
an impression upon my heart."

And there it is that God wipes the tear from
the believer's eye, and heals up the wounds of
the penitent, saying unto him, " I, even I, am
he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for
mine own sake, and will not remember thy
sins," Isa. xliii. 25. There it is that the be
liever avails himself of the tender access which
God condescends to grant to those precious
moments, and that conversing with him, " as a
man speaketh unto his friend," Ex. xxxiii. 11,
he asks him to bestow communications more
endearing, more intimate: "Lord, I beseech
thee to show me thy glory," ver. 8. " Lord,
Scatter that darkness which still veils thy per
fections from my view; Lord, dispel those
clouds which still intervene between me and
the light of thy countenance." There it is that
God takes pleasure to gratify desires so nobly
directed: " Poor mortals, how unrefined, how
debased is your taste! How much are you to
be pitied, with that relish for the meagre de
lights of this world!" Is there any one that
can stand a comparison with that which the
believer enjoys in such blessed intercourse as
this?

2. When Providence calls him to encounter
some severe trial. I speak not here of trials
to which appetite prompts a man to expose
himself, under the specious pretext of promis

ing himself the glory of a triumph, but in reali
ty from the fatal charm which betrays him into
defeat. We have no encouragement to expect
divine support to resist and overcome tempta
tion, when we rashly throw ourselves in the
way of it: " He that loveth danger," says the
Wise Man, " shall perish therein." I speak
of those trials, which the believer is called to
encounter, either from some supernatural in
terpositions, or simply from the duty imposed
by his Christian vocation. How often do they
appear to him so rude, as to awaken despair
of overcoming? How often, when abandoned
for a moment to his frailty, he says within him
self, " No, I shall never have the fortitude to
bear up under that painful conflict: no, it will
be impossible for me to survive the loss of that
child, far dearer to me than life itself: no, I
shall never be able to fulfil the duties of the
station to which Providence is calling me.
How can I give my heart to what I hate, and
tear it away from what I love?" Christian, be
of good courage. See that thy resolution be
upright and sincere, " to him that believeth all
things are possible," Mark ix. 23.

There are resources of grace with which
thou art yet unacquainted; but which thou
shalt know by experience, if thou pray for
them, and make it thy unremitting and sincere
endeavour to walk worthy of such exalted ex
pectations. God himself will descend into thy
soul with rays of light, with fresh supplies of
strength, with impressions so lively, of the pro
mised recompense of reward, that thou shall
not feel the pains of conflict, and be sensible
only to the pleasure of victory; that thou shalt
raise the shout of victory, whilst thou art yet
in the hottest of the battle.

3. I said that those transporting foretastes
are communicated to the believer, after he has
been enabled to offer up some noble and gene
rous sacrifice. I can conceive no transports
once to be compared with those which Abra
ham felt, on his descent from Mount Moriah.
What conflicts must he have undergone from
the awful moment that God demanded his
Isaac! What a dreadful portion of time, I was
going to say, what an eternity was the three
days which passed between his departure from
his habitation, and his arrival at the place
where this tremendous sacrifice was to be of
fered up! What emotions must that question
of Isaac have excited in a father's bosom; " be
hold the fire and the wood, but where is the
lamb for a burnt-offering?" Gen. xxii. 7.
Abraham comes off" victorious in all these com
bats; Abraham binds his son with cords; he
stretches him out on the wooden pile; he lifts
up his hand to pierce the bosom of this inno
cent victim. God arrests his uplifted arm.
Abraham has done his duty: he carries back
his son with him; what a transport of delight!

But this is not all. Will God be outdone in
generosity by Abraham? He crowns the obe
dience of his servant: he accumulates upon
him new marks of favour; he promises him
self to immolate his own Son for the man who
could summon up the resolution to devote his
son at God's command. This is, according to
St. Paul, the sense of those mysterious words;
" by myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for
because thou hast done this thing, and hast

SER. LXXV.]

THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST.

189

not withheld thy son, thine only son; that in
blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying
I will multiply thy seed, as the stars of the
heaven, and as the sand which is upon the
sea shore; .... and in thy seed shall all the
nations of the earth be blessed," Gen. xxii. 16
— 18; Gal. iii. 8. Christians, true posterity of
the father of believers, you have a reward simi
lar to his.

4. While he is partaking in the sacred mys
teries of redeeming love, likewise, the believer
feels himself quickened, raised up, seated, to
gether with Jesus Christ." I cannot refrain,
however, from here deploring the superstition
of certain Christians, which mingles with this
part of our religious worship, and from repeat
ing one of the advices which I suggested at the
opening of this discourse. Make not the suc
cess of your communion to depend on certain
emotions, in which mechanism has much more
to do than piety has. It but too frequently
happens, that a man shall apprehend he has
communicated worthily, or unworthily, in pro
portion as he has carried to a less or greater
degree the art of moving the senses, and of
heating the imagination, while he partakes of
the Lord's Supper. The touchstone by which
we ought to judge whether we brought to the
Lord's table the dispositions which he requires,
is the sincerity with which we have renewed
our baptismal engagements, and the exertions
which we shall afterward make punctually to
fulfil them.

It is true, nevertheless, that a participation
of the sacrament of the supper is one of the
situations in which a believer most frequently
experiences those gracious operations of which
our apostle is speaking in the text. A soul,
whose undivided attention the Holy Spirit fixes
on the mystery of the cross; and on whom he
is pleased to impress, in a lively manner, the
great events which the symbolical representa
tion in the Eucharist retraces on the heart; a
soul, which, through grace, loses itself in the
abyss of that love which God has manifested
towards us in Jesus Christ; a soul which has
learned to infer, from what God has already
done, what is still farther to be expected from
him; a soul, which feels, and, if I may use the
expression, which relishes the conclusiveness
of this reasoning, " He that spared not his own
Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall
lie not, with him, also, freely give us all
things?" Rom. viii. 32. Is not a soul in such
a state, already " quickened, already raised up,
already seated in heavenly places, together with
Christ Jesus?"

6. But it is particularly when the believer is
grappling with the king of terrors, that he ex
periences those communications of divine grace,
which transport him into another world, and
which verify, in the most sublime of all senses,
the idea which the apostle conveys to us of it,
in the words of the text. Witness that pa
tience and submission under sufferings the
most acute, and that entire acquiescence in the
sovereign will of God: " I was dumb, I opened
not my mouth; because thou didst it," Ps.
xxxix. 9. Witness that supernatural detach
ment from the world, which enables him to
resign, without murmuring, and without re
serve, all that he was most tenderly united to:

" henceforth know I no man after the flesh,"
2 Cor. v. 16. I have no connexion, now, save
with that "Jesus, of whom the whole family
in heaven and earth is named," Eph. iii. 15.
Witness that immoveable hope, in the midst
of universal desertion; "though he slay me,
yet will I trust in him," Job xiii. 15, "yea,
though I walk through the valley of the sha
dow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art
with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort
me," Ps. xxiii. 4. Witness that faith which
pierces through the clouds, which the devil,
and hell, and the world spread around his bed
of languishing: " I know that my Redeemer
liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day
upon the earth: and though after my skin
worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall
! I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and
mine eyes shall behold, and not another," Job
xix. 25 — 27. Witness that holy impatience
with which he looks forward to the moment
of his dismission: " I have waited for thy sal
vation, O God," Gen. xlix. 18. " Come, Lord
Jesus, come quickly," Rev. xxii. 20. Witness
those songs of triumph, amidst the very sharp
est of the conflict: "Thanks be unto God,
which always causeth us to triumph in Christ,'1
2 Cor. ii. 14. " Blessed be the Lord, my
strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and
my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1.

Witness, once more, those tender, those in
structive, those edifying conversations which
take place between the dying Christian and
his pastor. The pastor addresses to the dying
person these words on the part of God: " Seek
my face;" and the dying believer replies, " Thy
face, Lord, will I seek," Ps. xxvii. 8. The
pastor says, " Behold, what manner of love
the Father hath bestowed upon thee," 1 John
iii. 1, and the dying person replies; "the Jove
of God is shed abroad in my heart, by the
Holy Ghost which is given unto me," Rom. v,
5. The pastor says, " Seek those things which
are above, where Christ sitteth on the right
hand of God:" the dying person replies, " 1
have a desire to depart and to be with Christ,"
Phil. i. 23. "My soul thirsteth for God, for
the living God: when shall I come and appear
before God?" Ps. xlii. 2. The pastor says,
" Run with patience the race that is set before
thee, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher
of thy faith," Heb. xii. 1, 2. The dying be
liever replies, " I have fought a good fight, I
have finished my course, I have kept the faith.
Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown
against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. "I know
whom I have believed, and I am persuaded
that he is able to keep that which I have com
mitted unto him against that day," 2 Tim. iv.
7,8. " Behold, I see the heavens opened, and
the Son of man standing on the right hand of
God," Acts vii. 56.

i Such are the wonders which the grace of
God displays, in favour of those who are in
earnest to obtain it, and give themselves up to
its direction. And such are the treasures, un
happy worldlings, which you are sacrificing to
I a transient world, and its lying vanities. Such
j is the felicity which you experience, which
! you have already experienced in part, happy,
' happy Christians, whose condition is so far pre-
| ferable to that of all the rest of mankind.

190

FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH.

. LXXV1

What now remains for me to do, after hav
ing employed my feeble efforts to draw you
to God, by attractions so powerful: what re
mains, but to address my most fervent prayers
to him, and to entreat that he would be pleased
to make known those pure and exalted de
lights, to those who are, as yet, utter strangers
to them; and that he may, powerfully confirm,
even unto the end, those to whom he has al
ready graciously communicated them. With
this we shall conclude the solemn business of a
day of sacred rest. We are going, once more,
to lift up to heaven, in your behalf, hands pu
rified in the blood of the Redeemer of man
kind. Come, my beloved brethren, support
these hands, should they wax heavy: perform
for us the service which Aaron and Hur ren
dered to Moses, as we are attempting to render
the service of a Moses unto you. Assist us in
moving the bowels of the God of mercy. —
And graciously vouchsafe, blessed Jesus, who,
on the memorable day, of which we are now
celebrating the anniversary, wert " made higher
than the heavens; set on the right hand of the
throne of the Majesty in the heavens;" and
who presentest unto God, in " a golden censer,
the prayers of all saints:" vouchsafe, blessed
Jesus, lo give energy to those which we are
about to put up, and to support them by thy
all-powerful intercession. Amen. •

SERMON LXXVI.

FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH.

PART I.

MALACHI i. 6, 7.

*fl son honoureth his father, and a servant his mas
ter: if then I be a father, where is mine ho
nour? and if I be a master, where is my fear?
saith the Lord of Hosts unto you, 0 priests,
that despise my name. Jlnd ye say, Wherein
have ice despised thy name? Ye offer polluted
bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein
have we polluted thee? In that ye say, The ta
ble of the Lord is contemptible.
THOUGH the spectacle, which the solemnity
of this day calls to our recollection, did not di
rectly interest ourselves, it would, nevertheless,
be altogether worthy, separately considered,
of detaining our eyes, and of fixing our atten
tion. Men have sometimes appeared, who,
finding their last moments approaching, col
lected their family, summoned up their remain
ing strength, expressed a wish, in a repast of
love and benevolence, to take a last, a long
farewell of the persons who were most dear to
them, and to break asunder, by that concluding
act of social attachment, all the remains of
that human affection which U id them down to
the world.

What an object,, my brethren, what a heart-
affecting object does that man present, who,
beholding himself on the point of being re
moved from all those to whom he was most
tenderly united, desires to see them all assem
bled together for the last time, and, when as
sembled, addresses them in terms such as these:
*' It was to you, whose much loved society con
stituted the joy of my life, it was to you I

took delight in disclosing the most secret emo
tions of my soul: and if it were still possible
for any thing to call me back, now that my
God is calling me away, it would be the in
clination I feel, to prolong the happy days
which we have passed together. But though
the bands which unite us are close and en
deared, they must not be everlasting. It was
in the order of human things, either that you
should be called to close my eyes, or that I should
be called to close yours. Providence is now de
claring the supreme command, that I should
travel before you, the way of all the earth: it
was my wish, before I undergo the irreversible
decree, once more to behold the persons whom
I have ever borne on my heart, to call to re
membrance the sweet counsel which we have
taken together, the connexions which we have
formed: and thus too it is, that I would take
leave of the world. After having given away,
for a moment, to the expansions of my love
for you, I rise above all the objects of sense; I
am swallowed up of the thoughts which ought
to employ the soul of a dying person, and I
hasten to submit to the will of the Sovereign
Disposer of life and death."

Jesus Christ, in the institution of this holy
ordinance, is doing somewhat similar to the re
presentation now given. His disciples were
undoubtedly his most powerful attachment to
the earth. The kind of death which he was
about to suffer, demanded the undivided atten
tion of his mind: but before he plunges into
that vast ocean of thought which waslo carry
him through the sharp conflicts prepared for
him, he wishes to behold again, at his table,
those tender objects of his affection: " With de
sire," says he to them, " I have desired to eat this
passover with you before I suffer," Luke xxii.
15. Had I not good reason for expressing my
self as I did? Though this spectacle did not
directly interest ourselves, it would be highly
worthy, considered in itself, of detaining our
eyes, and of fixing our attention.

But what closeness of attention, what con
centration of thought does it not require of us,
f we consider it in the great and comprehen
sive views, which animated the Saviour of
the world, when he instituted the sacrament
of the supper! Behold him prepared, that
divine Saviour, to finish the great work, which
heaven has given him to do. He comes to
substitute himself in the room of those vic
tims, whose blood, too worthless, could do no
thing towards the purification of guilty man.
He comes to fulfil that mysterious prediction:
" Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire,

mine ears hast thou opened; Lo, I

come; in the volume of the book it is written
of me; I delight to do thy will, O my God;
yea, thy law is within my heart," Ps. xl. 6 — 8.
He comes to deliver up himself to that death,
the very approaches of which inspire the soul
with horror, and constrain him to cry out,
" Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I
say?" John "xii. 27. " My soul is exceeding
sorrowful, even unto death," Matt. xxvi. 36.

What shall he do to support himself in the
prospect of such tremendous arrangements?
What buckler shall he oppose to those enve
nomed arrows, with which he is going to be
transfixed? Love, my brethren, formed the ge-

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101

nerous design of the sacrifice which he is ready
to offer up; and love will carry him through
the arduous undertaking. He says to himself,
that the memory of this death which he is go
ing to endure, shall be perpetuated in the
churches, even unto the end of the world; that,
even to 'the end of the world, he shall be the
refuge of poor perishing sinners. He says to
himself, that through the whole world of be
lievers, whom the preaching of the gospel is
going to subdue to his love and obedience, this
death shall be celebrated. He himself insti
tutes the memorial of it, and taking that bread
and that wine, the august symbols of his body
broken, and of his blood shed, he gives them
to his disciples; he says to them, and, in their
person, to all those who shall believe in him
through their word, " Take, eat, this is my
body; this is my blood of the New Testament,
Drink ye all of it," Matt. xxvi. 26—28. " This
do in remembrance of me: For as often as ye
eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show
the Lord's death till he come," 1 Cor. xi.
24—26.

O shame to human nature! O the weakness,
shall I call it? or the hardness of the human
heart! And must it needs be; must the sweet
composure of this holy exercise, be this day
marred, by the cruel apprehension, that some
among you may be in danger of profaning it,
while they celebrate it? Must it be, that in in
viting you to that sacred table, we should be
checked by the humiliating reflection, that
some new Judas may be coming there to re
ceive the sentence of his condemnation? It is
in the view of doing our utmost, to prevent the
commission of a crime so foul, and a calamity
so dreadful, that we wish, previously to our
distributing unto you the bread and the wine
which sovereign wisdom has prepared for you,
to engage you in deep and serious reflection on
the words which have been read. You will be
abundantly sensible how well they are adapted
to my purpose, when you shall have placed
yourselves, in thought, in the circumstances
wherein the Jews were placed, at the time
they were addressed to them. With this I
open my subject.

The prophet Malachi, whose voice God is
here employing on a message to his people,
lived a few years after the return from the cap
tivity. He succeeded Haggai and Zechariah.
These two prophets had been raised up, chiefly
for the purpose of stimulating the Jews to un
dertake the rebuilding of the temple. Malachi
was specially destined to urge them to render
unto God, in that magnificent edifice, a wor
ship suitable to the majesty of him to whose
service it was consecrated. The same difficul
ties, which the two first of those holy men had
to encounter in the discharge of their ministry,
he encountered in the exercise of his. What
desire more ardent could animate men, who
had lived threescore and ten years without a
temple, without altars, without sacrifices, with
out a public worship, than that of beholding in
the midst of them, those gracious signs of the
divine presence? This was, however, by no
means the object of general ambition and pur
suit. They looked to the rearing and embel
lishing of their own houses, and left to God the
care of building that which belonged to him.

We find traces of this shameful history, in
the prophecies of the two first whom we nam
ed, particularly in those of Haggai. There
we have displayed, the excuses made by that
wretched people, to serve as a colour to their
criminal negligence: " Thus speaketh the Lord
of hosts, saying, This people say, The time is
not come, the time that the Lord's house should
be built," chap- i. 2. We have a censure of
this spirit and conduct, proportioned to their
enormity, in ver. 4, " Is it time for you, O ye,
to dwell in your ceiled houses, and this house
lie waste?" But, what is still more awful, we
behold the tremendous judgments, by which
God avenged himself of guilt so atrocious, in
ver. 9 — 11. "Ye looked for much, and, lo, it
came to little; and when ye brought it home I
did blow upon it. Why? saith the Lord of
hosts. Because of mine house that is waste,
and ye run every man unto his own house.
Therefore the heaven over you is stayed from
dew, and the earth is stayed from her fruit.
And I called for a drought upon the land, and
upon the mountains, and upon the corn, and
upon the new wine, and upon the oil, and upon
that which the ground bringeth forth, and upon
men, and upon cattle, and upon all the labour
of the hands."

How awfully respectable is a preacher, my
brethren, when the indignation of Heaven se
conds his voice! When the pestilence, mortali
ty, famine, add weight to the threatenings
which he denounced! Haggai, supported by
this all-powerful aid, at length attained the
object of his ministry. The Jews did that from
constraint which they ought to have done from
a principle of piety and zeal: you might now
see them labouring with emulous fervour, to
raise the august edifice, and the temple arose
out of its ruins.

But scarcely was the house of the Lord re
built, when they profaned the sanctity of the
place, and violated the laws which were there
to be observed. The observation of those laws
was burdensome. It required not only great
mental application, but was likewise attended
with very considerable expense. The avarice
of their sordid spirits made them consider every
thing which they dedicated to such purposes,
as next to lost. They durst not, at the same
time, venture entirely to shake off' the yoke of
religion. They did what men generally do,
when the laws of God clash with their inclina
tions: they neither yielded complete submis
sion, nor dared to avow open rebellion. They
attempted to reconcile the dictates of their own
passions with the commands of heaven. To
comply with the commands of heaven, they
presented offerings; but to gratify the cravings
of passion, they presented offerings of little
value.

This idea of the circumstances in which the
Jews were at the time when- our prophet flour
ished, is one of the best keys for disclosing the
real sense of the words of the text. If it un
folds not to us the whole extent of its significa
tion, it furnishes at least a good general expli
cation. Malachi severely censures the priests
of his day, that called, as they were, to main
tain good order in the church, they calmly
overlooked, or avowedly countenanced the
open violation of it. He reproaches them for

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[SER. LXXVI.

this misconduct, by the example of what a son
owes to his father, and a servant to his master.
He employs this image, because the priests
were, in an appropriate sense, considered as
belonging unto God; in conformity to what
God himself says in chap. viii. of the book of
Numbers: "Thou shalt separate the LeviJ,es
from among the children of Israel: and the Le-
vites shall be mine: .... for they are wholly
given unto me, from among the children of
Israel .... instead of the first-born of all the
children of Israel, have I taken them unto me:
.... on the day that I smote every first-born
in the land of Egypt, I sanctified them for my
self." It is to you, O ye priests, says he to
them, that I address myself; " A son honoureth
his fatherland a servant his master: if then I
be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be
a master, where is rny fear? saith the Lord of
hosts, unto you, O priests, that despise my
name. And ye say, wherein have we despised
thy name? Ye offer polluted bread upon mine
altar; and ye say, wherein have we polluted
thee? In that ye say, the table of the Lord is
contemptible."

If any difficulty still remain, respecting the
general sense of the passage, it can be of no
considerable importance, as it prevents not our
discerning the principal aim and design of the
Holy Spirit. It is not perhaps easy, I admit,
to determine with exact precision, what we
are to understand by " the table of the Lord,"
by that contempt which was expressed for it,
and by the "polluted bread" which those un
worthy ministers offered upon it. There are
two opinions on this subject, but which both
issue in the idea we have suggested to you, of
our prophet's sentiment.

It is the opinion of some commentators, that
by the table, of which Malachi speaks, is to be
understood the table which corresponded to
that placed by Moses, by the command of God,
in the part of the tabernacle denominated the
" holy place."* The law enjoined that there
should always be upon that table twelve
loaves, or cakes, which we denominate the
"show-bread," otherwise called "the bread of
faces," not because these cakes were moulded-
into several sides, or raised into small protube
rances, according to the opinion of certain
Jewish doctors, but because they were continu
ally exposed in the presence of Jehovah, who
was considered as residing in the holy place.
The law which enjoined the offering of them,
had likewise prescribed the rites which were to
be observed in presenting that offering. They
were to be placed on the holy table, to the
number of twelve: they were to be composed
of fine flour kneaded into a paste: each cake
was to contain an omer of flour. The Jews
tell us,f that it must have passed eleven times
through the searse; and if St. JeromeJ is to be
credited, it belonged to the priests to sow, to
reap, and to grind the corn, of which the cakes
were made, and to knead the dough. What
ever may be the truth as to some of these par
ticulars, to treat the table of the Lord as com-
temptible, to offer unto God " polluted bread,"

* See Exodus xxv. 23, &c.

fSee Mischna, torn. v. tit. de munere, cap. vi. sec. vii.
p. 95. Edit. Amst.

IHieron. torn. iii. in Mai. i. 6. p. 1810. Edit, Bened.

is, conformably to the sentiment which I have
detailed, to violate some of the rites which
were to be observed in the offering of the cakes,
placed, by divine command, on the table which
was in the holy place.

The generality of interpreters have adopted
another opinion, which we have no difficulty
in following. By " the table of the Lord,"
they here understand the altar of burnt-offer
ings. It is denominated "the table of the
Lord," in some other passages of Scripture:
particularly in chap. xli. of the prophecies of
Ezekiel. There, after a description of the altar
of burnt-offerings, it is added, " This is the
table that is before the Lord," ver. 22. On
this altar were offered cakes of fine flour, as
we see in various passages, particularly in the
first verses of chap. ii. of the book of Leviticus.
These cakes are represented as if they were
the bread of God. The same name was given
to every thing .offered to Deity on that altar.
All was called "the bread of God," or "the
meat of God;" for reasons which will be bet
ter understood in the sequel. I shall, at pre
sent, satisfy myself with quoting a single pas
sage in justification of this remark. It is in
chap. xxi. of the book of Leviticus, the 6th
verse. Moses, after having laid down the du
ties of the priests, adds these words: " they
shall be holy unto their God, and not profane
the name of their God; for the offerings of the
Lord made by fire, and the bread of their God
do they offer; therefore they shall be holy."
You see that in the Levitical style, they denomi
nated " the meat of God," or " the bread of
God," not only the cakes which were offered
upon the altar, not only the loaves of the
show-bread which were presented on the table
in the holy place, but all the victims which,
were consumed by fire on the altar of burnt-
offering.

Now, the manner in which those offerings
were to be presented, had likewise been laid
down with singular precision. There was a
general law respecting this point, which you
will find in chap. iv. of Leviticus: it enjoined
that the victim sheuld be " without blemish;"
and if you wish for a more particular detail on
this subject, you may farther consult chap. xxii.
of the same book. There we have enumerated
ten imperfections, which rendered a victim un
worthy of being offered unto God. Some*
place in this class, not only bodily but mental
imperfections, if this last epithet may be ap
plied to brutes. For example, they durst not
have presented unto God animals of an obsti
nate, petulant, capricious disposition, and the
like. Scruples, by the way, which the pagans
themselves, and particularly the Egyptians en
tertained, respecting the victims which they
offered to their gods. They set apart for them
the choicest of the flock and of the herd. He
rodotus informs us,") that in Egypt, there were
persons specially appointed to the office of ex
amining the victims.

Let us no longer deviate from the principal
object of our text. If by " the table of the
Lord," we are to understand, as it is presuma
ble we ought, the altar of burnt-offerings, " to

* See Bochart Hieroz, Part I. Book II. chap. 46. p.522.
f In Euterpe, cap, xxxviii. p. 104. Edit. Franco!*.

SER, LXXVL]

FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH.

193

offer unto God polluted bread," in the style of
Malachi, to say, " the table of the Lord is con
temptible," is to violate some of the rites pre
scribed, respecting the offerings which were
presented unto God upon that altar. More es
pecially, it is to consecrate to Deity, victims
which had some of the blemishes that rendered
them unworthy of his acceptance.

But was it indeed, then, altogether worthy
of God to enter into details so minute? But of
what importance could it be to the Lord of the
universe, whether the victims presented to him
were fat or lean, and whether the bread conse
crated to him were of wheat or of barley, of
fine or of coarse flour? And though the Jews
were subjected to minuteness of this kind, what
interest can we have in them, we who live in
ages more enlightened; we who are called to
serve God only " in spirit and in truth," John
iv. 24, and to render him none but a "reason
able service," Rom. xii. 1. We shall devote
the remainder of the time, at present permitted
to us, to the elucidation of these questions; we
shall endeavour to unfold the great aim and
object of our text, and apply it more particu
larly to the use of our hearers. For this pur
pose it will be necessary to institute a twofold
parallel.

I. We shall institute a parallel between the
altar of burnt-offerings, or the table of the
show-bread, and the table of the Eucharist: and
shall endeavour to unfold the mystical views
of both the one and the other.

II. The second parallel shall be, between the
profanation of the altar, or the table of the
show-bread, and the profanation of the Chris
tian sacramental table: we shall indicate what
is implied, with respect to the Jews, and with
respect to Christians, in offering to God " pol
luted bread," and in looking on " the table of
the Lord as contemptible;" and we will endea
vour to make you sensible of the keenness of
the reproach conveyed by the, mouth of the
prophet: " A son honoureth his father, and a
servant his master: if then I be a father, where
is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is
my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O
priests, that despise my name. And ye say,
wherein have we despised thy name? Ye offer
polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say,
wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say,
the table of the Lord is contemptible."

SERMON LXXVI.

FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH.

PART II.

MALACHI i. 6, 7.

A son honoureth his father, and a servant his mas
ter: if then I be a father, where is mine honour?
and if [be a master, where is my fear? saith the
Lord of hosts unto you, 0 priests, that despise
my name. Jlnd ye say, Wherein have we de
spised thy name? Ye offer polluted bread upon
mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we pol
luted thee? In that ye say, The table of the
Lord is contemptible.

HAVING endeavoured to remove the difficul
ties in which the text may seem to be involved,
VOL. II.— 25

and shown what we are to understand by " pol
luted bread," by " the table of the Lord," and
by calling " the table of the Lord contempti
ble," we proceed to institute the twofold paral
lel proposed.

I. Let us state a parallel between the altar
of burnt-offerings, the table of the show-bread,
and the sacramental table of the Lord's Sup
per; the offerings which were presented to God
on the first, and those which we still present tc
him on the second. The sacramental table of
the supper, as the altar of burnt-offerings, and
as the table of the show-bread, is " the table
of the Lord." The viands, presented on both
the one and the other, are, " the meat of God,"
or "the bread of God." And those sacred
ceremonies, however they may differ as to cer
tain circumstances, have been, nevertheless,
destined to the same end, and represent the
same mysteries: namely, the intimate union
which God wishes to maintain with his church
and people.

You will be convinced that this was the des
tination of the altar of burnt-offerings, and of
the table of the show-bread, if you have formed
a just idea of the temple, and of the tabernacle.
The tabernacle was considered to be the tent
of God, as the Leader and Commander of Is
rael, arid the temple was considered as his pa
lace. For this reason it is, that when God
gave commandment to construct the taberna
cle, he said to Moses, " Let them make me a
sanctuary; that I may dwell amongst them,"
Exod. xxi. 8. And when Solomon substituted
the temple in room of the tabernacle, he was
desirous of conveying the same idea of it: " I
have surely built thee a house to dwell in, a
settled place for thee to abide in for ever."
The following are the words of a very sensible
Rabbi on this subject:* " God, to whom be all
glory inscribed, gave conunandment to build
for him a house, similar to the palaces of the
kings of the earth. All these things are to be
found in the palaces of kings; they are sur
rounded by guards; they have servants to pre
pare their victuals; musicians who sing to them,
and play on instruments. There are likewise
chambers of perfumes; a table on which their
repasts are served up; a closet into which fa
vourites only are admitted. It was the will of
God, that all these things should be found in
lis house, that in nothing he might yield to the
potentates of the earth. And all these things
are designed to make the people know, that our
King, the Lord of hosts, is in the midst of us."

This general idea of the tabernacle justifies
hat which we are going to give of the altar of
jurnt-offerings, and of the table of the show-
>read.

1. That of the altar of burnt-offering: it was
denominated " the table of the Lord," and the
viands served upon it were denominated " the
meat" or "the bread of Jehovah," because the
nd of the sacrifices there offered up by his
command, was to intimate, that he maintained
with his people an intercourse as familiar as
that of two friends, who eat together at the
same table. This is the most ancient, and the
most usual idea of sacrifice. When alliances

* Rabbi Schem Job Comment, in Mere Nevoch, Part
II. cap. xliv. fol. 171. Tenet. 5811.

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[SER. LXXVI.

were contracted, victims were immolated: and
the contracting parties made a common repast
on their flesh, to express the intimate union
which they formed with each other.

This was the reason of all the rites which
were served between God and the people of
Israel, in the alliance formed previous to the
promulgation of the law. They are recorded
in the twenty -fourth chapter of the book of
Exodus. Moses represented God; Aaron, Na-
dab and Abihu his two sons, and the three
score and ten elders represented the whole con
gregation of Israel. Altars were reared; sacri
fices MWre offered up; they feasted together on
the flesh of the victims. It is expressly related
that Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu, and those other
venerable personages whom I have mentioned,
went up into the mountain, " also they saw
God, and did eat and drink," ver. 11. And to
make it apparent that the divine presence in
tervened, the history adds, that God vouchsafed
to bestow sensible tokens of his presence: " And
they saw the God of Israel: and there was un
der his feet as it were a paved work of a sap
phire-stone, and as it were the body of heaven
in his clearness," ver. 10. A work paved with
stars, resembling a composition of sapphire-
stones: a symbol which, perhaps, God preferred
to any other, because the sapphire was, among
the Egyptians, the emblem of royalty, as may
be seen in their hieroglyphics, which the indus
try of the learned have preserved to us.

The pagans, likewise, had the same ideas of
the sacrifices which they offered up. They did
eat together the flesh of the victims, and this
they called eating or feasting with the gods.*
They sometimes carried off part of it to their
houses; sometimes sent a portion of it to their
friends; sometimes they partook of it in the
temples themselves, in which tables were
placed for the express purpose of celebrating
festivals of this kind. Homer, in the Odyssey,f
introduces Alcinous, speaking to this effect:
" The gods render themselves visible to us,
when we immolate hecatombs to them; they
eat with us, and place themselves by us at th^
same table." The same poet, speaking of a
solemn festival of the Ethiopians, says,J that
Jupiter had descended among them, to be pre
sent at a festival which they had prepared for
him, and that he was attended thither by all
the gods." In another place§ he tells us, that
Agamemnon sacrificed an ox to Jupiter, and
that he invited several of the chieftains of
the Grecian army, to eat the flesh of that vic
tim. He relates something similar respecting
Nestor. ||

Hence it comes to pass that the phrase to
make a, feast, is very frequently employed both
by sacred and profane authors, to express per
forming acts of idolatrous worship. In this
is that we are to understand it, in that

passage of the prophet Ezekiel, where, enume
rating the characters of the just man, this is
laid down as one, " He hath not eaten upon
the mountains," chap, xviii. 6;H that is, who

* Plato, torn. II
1578.

t Book V. ver. 202.
Iliad II. ver. 429, &c.

de Legibus II. p. 653. Edit. Steph.
J Iliad I. ver. 423.

J| Odyss. III. ver. 438, &c.

flSee<

See other examples, Exod. xxxii. 6.

has not been a partaker in the sacrifices of the
idolatrous. In burnt-offerings, the part of the
victim consumed by fire, was considered as the
portion of Deity. Of1 this I shall adduce only
a single instance, that I may not load my dis
course with too many quotations. Solinus re
lates,* that those who offered up sacrifices to
idols on Mount Etna, constructed their altars
on the brink of its crater: that they placed
bundles of dried sprigs upon those altars, but
that they applied no fire to them. They pre
tended, that when the Divinity, in honour of
whom these rites were performed, was pleased
to accept the sacrifice, the bundles of sprigs
spontaneously caught fire; that the flame ap
proached the persons who were celebrating this
sacred festivity; that it encompassed them
round and round, without doing them any
harm; and thus was declared the acceptance
of their oblation.

In like manner, in the sacrifices which were
offered upon the altar of burnt-offerings, one
part of the victim was for the people, another
part for the priests, and another part was con
sumed by fire; this last was considered as the
portion of God; this was particularly denomi
nated the meat or the bread of God; and the
whole solemnity was intended, as has been said,
to represent the intimate union, and the fa
miliar intercourse, which God wished to main
tain between himself and his people.

2. The same was likewise the design of the
table of the show bread. It was natural that
in the tabernacle, which was considered as the
tent of Jehovah, and in the temple which was
afterwards considered as his palace, there should
be a table replenished with provision for him
self and for his ministers. It was the com
mand of God, that twelve of those cakes
should be exhibited continually on the table of
the sanctuary, to denote the twelve tribes of
Israel. This same number was kept up even
after the revolt of the ten tribes; because there
were always worshippers of the true God,
scattered over the whole twelve tribes. These
cakes, exposed continually in the presence of
Jehovah, were an invitation given to the re
volted tribes, to maintain his worship, and to
serve him conformably to the rites, which he
himself had been pleased to prescribe by the
hand of Moses. This was likewise the grand
motive urged by Abijah, king of Judah, to
bring back the Israelites to their allegiance," 2
Chron. xiii. 9, &c.

In this same sense is the table of the Eucha
rist, likewise, the table of the Lord. In this
same sense, we consider as the meat of God, or
as the bread of God, these august symbols which
are presented to us in the holy sacrament of the
supper. These two solemn ceremonies have
exactly one and the same end in view. The
end proposed by the table of the Eucharist, as
by that of the altar of burnt-offerings, or by
the table of the shoio bread, is to form, and to
maintain between God and us, an intercourse
of familiar friendship; it is to form between
God and us the most intimate union which it
is possible to conceive as subsisting between
two beings so very different as are the Creator
and the creature. What proofs of love can be

* Polyh. cap. v. p. 15. Edit. Traject. 1689.

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FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH.

195

interchanged by two friends united in the ten-
derest bonds, which God and the believer do
not mutually give and receive at the Eucharis-
tical table.

Two friends intimately united, become per
fectly reconciled to each other, whin some in
terposing cloud had dimmed the lustre of friend
ship, and they repair, by warmer returns of af
fection, the violence which love had suffered
under that fatal eclipse. This is what we ex
perience at the table of the holy sacrament. —
That august ceremony is a mystery of recon
ciliation between the penitent sinner and the
God of mercy. On the one part, the penitent
sinner presents unto God " a broken and con
trite heart," Ps. li. 17, for grief of having of
fended him: he pours into the bosom of his
God the tears of repentance; he protests that
if the love which he has for his God has un
dergone a temporary suspension, it never was
entirely broken asunder; and if the flame of
that affection has been occasionally smothered
under the ashes, yet it was never entirely ex
tinguished: he says to him with Thomas, reco
vered from his paroxysm of incredulity, " My
Lord and my God; my Lord and my God,"
John xx. 28, and with Peter, restored to favour
after he had denied his Master, " Lord, thou
knowest all things, thou knowest that I love
thee," John xxi. 17. And on the other part,
the God of mercy extends his bowels of com
passion towards the believer; he gives him as
surance that his repentance is accepted, and
speaks peace inwardly to his conscience, say
ing, " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be for
given thee," Matt. ix. 2.

Two friends intimately united, lose sight, in
some sense, of the difference which there may
be between their respective conditions. This
too, is what the believer experiences at the
Lord's table. On the one part, though there
must ever be an immeasurable abyss between
God and us, we go to him as to our brother,
as to our friend; shall I presume to add, as to
our equal? And on the other part, God is
pleased to lay aside, in condescension to our
weakness, if the expression be lawful, the rays
of his diving majesty, with which the eyes of
mortals would be dazzled into blindness. Je
sus Christ clothes himself with our flesh and
blood: and of that community of nature makes
up a title of familiarity with us; according to
those words of the apostle; "both he that
sanctifieth, and they who are sanctified, are all
of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to
call them brethren, saying, I will declare thy
name unto my brethren," Heb. ii. 11, 12.

Two friends intimately united, blend their
goods and fortune, in blending their condition.
This likewise the believer experiences in the
holy sacrament of the supper. On the one hand,
we devote to God all that we are; we promise
him that there is no band so tender but what
we shall be ready to break asunder; no passion
so dear, but that we are determined to sacri
fice it; no possession so precious but that we
are cheerfully disposed to resign, whenever his
glory requires it at our hands. Arid on the
other hand, God draws nigh to us with his
grace, with his aid, and to say all in one word,
he comes to us with his son: he gives us this
Son, as the Son gives himself to us, " God so j

loved the world, that he gave his only begotten
Son," John iii. 16. " Greater love hath no
man than this, that a man lay down his life for
his friends," Johnxv. 13.

Two friends intimately united, however well
assured they may be of reciprocal tenderness,
take pleasure in making frequent repetition of
the expressions of it. Friendship has its high
festivals, its overflowings, its ecstacies. This
too is the experience of the saints at the table
of the Lord. There the soul of the believer
says to his Redeemer, "I am crucified with
Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ
liveth in me: and the life which I now live in
the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God,
who loved me, and gave himself for me," Gal.
ii. 20. And there it is, on the other hand, that
God communicates to the soul of the believer
the full assurance of his love: " For the moun
tains shall depart, and the hills be removed:
but my kindness shall not depart from thee,
neither shall the covenant of my peace be re
moved, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on
thee," Isa. liv. 10.

Thus it is, my brethren, that the altar of
burnt offerings, or the table of the show bread,
and the Eucharistical table of the Lord's supper,
present the self-same mysteries to the eye of
faith. Thus it is that both the one and the
other are " the table of the Lord," and that
the repast served upon it, ' is " the meat of
God," or the bread of God. Thus it is, that
n both the one and the other of those solemn
jeremonies, the end which God proposes to
limself is to form with men a union the most
ntimate and the most tender.

Having thus stated the first parallel propos
ed, that of the altar of burnt offerings, or the
;able of the show bread, and the sacramental ta-
)le of the Lord's Supper, we now proceed,

II. To state the parallel between the profa
nation of the altar, or the table in the ancient
sanctuary, and the profanation of the sacra
mental table of the Eucharist: that is, to state
he parallel between the duties prescribed to
he ancient Jews, and those which are pre
scribed to Christians, when they draw nigh to
God in the holy ordinance of the supper. As
hey trace the same important truths, they en
force the same practical obligations. What
made the ancient Jews profane the table of
the Lord? How came they to say, " the ta
ble of the Lord is contemptible?" How durst
they offer " polluted bread" on his altar? It
was, 1. Because they formed not just ideas of
the end which God proposed to himself, when
he enjoined the observance of those solemni
ties. It arose, 2. From their unwillingness to
fulfil the moral engagements which the cere
monial observance imposed. Finally, 3. It
proceeded from their wanting a just sense of
the value of the blessings communicated by
these. Now the sources of unworthy commu
nicating, so common in the Christian world,
are precisely the same. Want of illumination;
want of virtue; want of feeling. Want of il
lumination, which prevents their knowing the
meaning and design of our sacred mysteries
Want of virtue, which prevents their immo
lating to God all the vices which separate be
tween him and them. Want of feeling, which
prevents their being kindled into gratitude, and

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[SKR. LXXVI.

love, and holy fervour, when God discloses to
them, at his table, all the treasures of felicity
and glory. Three heads of comparison be
tween the priests of Malachi's days, and many
who bear the Christian name among ourselves.
Three touchstones furnished to assist you in the
examination of your own consciences. "Thus
saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O priests, that
despise my name: and ye say, wherein have
we despised thy name? Ye offer polluted bread
upon my altar: and ye say, wherein have we
polluted thee? In that ye say, the table of the
Lord is contemptible."

1. Want of illumination. The priests of
Malachi's days did not form ideas sufficiently
just of the end which Jehovah promised to
himself, when he enjoined the presenting of
offerings, on the altar of burnt offerings, and
on the table of the show bread. Expressly
set apart for teaching those great truths to
others, they remained themselves in a state of
ignorance. They had no other qualification
to be the ministers of religion, except the tribe
from which they descended, and the habit
which they wore. Our prophet upbraids them
with this gross and criminal ignorance: " The
priests' lips should keep knowledge, and they
should seek the law at his mouth: for he is the
messenger of the Lord of hosts: but ye are de
parted out of the way: ye have caused many
« to stumble at the law," chap. ii. 7, 8. They
had not only conceived false ideas of religion
themselves, but they communicated these to
the people. The prophet does not indicate pre
cisely respecting what points the ignorance of
those unworthy ministers was most conspicu
ous: but if we may form a judgment of the
case from the character of their successors, it
was impossible to entertain ideas of religion
more false than those which they propagated.
How wretched was the doctrine of the Rab
bins who were contemporary with our blessed
Lord, and of those of modern times! Misera
ble conceits; insipid allegories; imaginary mys
teries; puerile relations. These constituted the
great body of the Rabbinical theology. Would
to God that such whims were to be found only
among Rabbins! But we must not pursue this
reflection. Nothing more is wanting, many a
time, but a single ignorant, prejudiced pastor,
to perpetuate ignorance, and transmit preju
dice, for ages together in a church. This was
evidently the case in the times of our prophet:
and this it was which dictated these keen re
proaches: "ye are departed out of the way:
ye have caused many to stumble at the law:
ye have corrupted the covenant of Levi, saith
the Lord of hosts," chap. ii. 8.

Want of illumination: the first head of com
parison between the criminality of the priests
of Malachi's day, who said, the table of the Lord
is contemptible, and the criminality of profess
ing Christians, who profane the sacramental
table. To profane the ordinance of the Lord's
Supper, is to partake of the symbols there pre
sented, without having maturely considered the
great truths which they represent. To profane
the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, is to com
municate, without having any other ideas of
the mysteries of the incarnation of the Son of
God, which are there unfolded, than those
which we had of them in the days of our

childhood. To profane the ordinance of the
Lord's Supper, is to believe, on the faith of a
man's pastor, or of his ancestors, that God
sent his Son into the world, to redeem the hu
man race, and to take no pains to be inform
ed on what principles that doctrine is esta
blished.

To present " polluted bread on the altar of
God;" to say, " the table of the Lord is con
temptible:" it is the crime of that young man,
who would account himself degraded by ap
plying to the study of his catechism, by acquir
ing more perfect knowledge of his religion;
who would rather continue to grovel in igno
rance, than employ the means necessary to the
attainment of instruction. It is the crime of
that head of a family, who is so far from being
in a condition to communicate religious instruc
tion to his children, that he himself is a stran
ger to it. It is the crime of that magistrate,
who, under pretence of a load of public busi
ness, will not take time seriously to examine,
whether there be a God in heaven, and whe
ther the Scriptures are of divine origin and au
thority. It is the crime of that female, who,
under pretence of the weakness of her sex, de
bases the dignity of her nature, and devotes
her whole attention to the management of
her domestic concerns. Look well to it, exa
mine yourselves carefully. Is there no one
among you who can discern his own resem
blance in any of these characters? Is it a
knowledge of the truth, or the power of pre
judice, or compliance with custom, which in
duces you to assume the livery of Christianity?
Is it the decision of a learned divine, and the
authority of your fathers; or is it the fruit of
serious study, and an enlightened persuasion?
Want of illumination; this is the first article
of comparison between the profane priests of
Malachi's days, and profane Christians of our
own times: "you offer polluted bread upon
mine altar: ye say the table of the Lord is con
temptible."

2. The priests of Malachi's days profaned
the table of the Lord, in refusing to fulfil the
moral engagements which the ceremonial ob
servance imposed, in the symbols of a sacred
union with Deity. While they were profess
edly uniting themselves to the Holy one of Is
rael, they entertained sentiments the most cri
minal, and were chargeable with practices the
most irregular and impure. They participated
in the table of the Lord, while their hands
were defiled with the accursed thing; and they
presumed, by offering to God a part of what
they had forcibly or fraudulently taken away
from their neighbours, to make in some mea
sure, an accomplice in their injustice and rapa
city. With this they are reproached in the
12th and 13th verses of the chapter from which
our text is taken: ye have polluted my table,
in presenting on it that which is torn or stolen.
They were partakers of the table of the Lord,
at the very time when they were avowedly
living in forbidden wedlock with pagan women.
With this they are upbraided in the second
chapter of this prophecy, at the eleventh verse:
" Judah had dealt treacherously, and an abomi
nation is committed in Israel and in Jerusalem:
for Judah hath profaned the holiness of the
Lord which he loved, and hath married the

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197

daughter of a strange god." They were par
takers of the table of the Lord, at the very
time when they were practising criminal
divorces, and indulging themselves in senti
ments the most barbarous and inhuman, to
wards persons whom the laws of marriage
jught to have rendered dear and respectable
U> them. With this they are reproached in
.he 13th verse of the same chapter: " This
have ye done again, covering the altar of the
Lord with tears, with weeping, and with cry
ing out, insomuch that he regardeth not the
offering any more, or receiveth it with good
will at your hand. Yet ye say, Wherefore?
Because the Lord hath been witness between
thee and the wife of thy youth, against whom
thou hast dealt treacherously; yet she is thy
companion, and the wife of thy covenant."
They were partakers of the table of the Lord,
while they impiously dared to accuse him, not
only of tolerating vice, but of loving and ap
proving it. With this, too, they are reproached,
in the 17th verse of that chapter: "Ye have
wearied the Lord with your words: yet ye say,
wherein have we wearied him? When ye say,
every one that doth evil is good in the sight
of the Lord, and he delighteth in them: or,
where is the God of judgment'"

Want of virtue: a second point of compari
son between the priests who said, " the table
of the Lord is contemptible," and professors
who, to this day, profane the holy ordinance
of the supper. Can any among you discern
your own likeness under this character? Are
you going to vow unto the Lord an inviolable
fidelity; or, while you are partaking of his
grace, have you a secret reservation disrespect
ful to his laws? Is it your determination to
put in practice the great, the essential virtues
of the Christian life: or do you mean to satisfy
yourselves with discharging the petty duties
of morality, and with attending to the formal
and less important obligations of religioa? Are
you going to declare war against every thing
which opposes the empire of righteousness in
your heart, or are you reserving the indul
gence of some favourite passion, some Delilah,
some Drusilla? Are you disposed to prescribe
to your progress in grace a fixed point, beyond
which it is needless to aim; or is it your fixed
resolution, through grace, to be continually
advancing towards perfection? Are you going
to satisfy yourselves with vague designs; or are
your projects to be supported by just measures
and sage precautions?

3. Finally, the priests of Malachi's days
profaned the table of the Lord, from their be
ing destitute of a just sense of the inestimable
value of the blessings communicated. It seemed
to them, as if God put a price too high on
the benefits which he proffered: and that,
every thing weighed and adjusted, it was bet
ter to go without them, than to purchase them
at the rate of such sacrifices as the possession
of them demanded. This injurious mode of
computation is reproved in very concise, but
very energetic terms, chap. i. 13. "Ye said,
what a weariness is it!" and, in another place,
chap. iii. 14. u Ye have said it is vain to
serve God: and what profit is it, that we have
kept his ordinance, and that we have walked
mournfully before the Lord of hosts?" and at

the very beginning of the book oft! is prophecy:
" I have loved you, saith the Lord: yet we say,
wherein hast thou loved us?" This was offer
ing an insult to Deity, if the expression be
warrantable, in the tenderest part. He de
clares to us, that he stands in no need of our
worship, and of our homage; that, exalted to the
height of felicity and glory, he can derive no
advantage from our obedience and submission;
that his laws are the fruit of love, and that the
virtue which he prescribes to us, is the only
path that can conduct us to the sovereign good.
The priests belied this notion of religion.

Want of feeling: a third article of compa
rison, between the profanation of the table of
the Lord, of which those detestable wretches
rendered themselves guilty, and the guilt of
Christian professors who profane the holy ta
ble of the Lord's Supper. A Christian who
partakes of this sacred ordinance, ought to
approach it with a heart penetrated by the un
speakable greatness of the blessings there ten
dered to our acceptance. He ought to view
that sacred table as the centre, in which all
the benedictions bestowed by the Creator meet.
He ought to be making unremitting efforts to
measure the boundless dimensions of the love
of God, to implore the aid of the Spirit, that
he may be enabled to view it in all its extent,
and to " comprehend with all saints, what is
the breadth, and length, and depth, and height
of that love," Eph. iii. 18. He ought to be con
templating that chain of blessings which are
there displayed in intimate and inseparable
union: " Whom he did foreknow he also did
predestinate, to be conformed to the image of
his Son moreover whom he did pre
destinate them he also called: and whom he
called them he also justified: and whom he
justified them he also glorified," Rom. viii.
29, 30. Under a sense of favours so numerous,
and so distinguishing, he ought to cry out with
the psalmist: " How excellent is thy loving-
kindness, O God! therefore the children of men
put their trust under the shadow of thy wings.
They shall be abundantly satisfied with the
fatness of thy house; and thou shall make them
drink of the river of thy pleasures," Ps. xxxvi.
7, 8. He ought to exclaim, with a soul ab
sorbed in the immensity of the divine goodness:
" my soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and
fatness," Ps. Ixiii. 5. He ought, above all, to
be struck with the incomprehensible dispropor
tion there is between what God does for us,
and what he requires of us. He ought to make
the same estimate of things which St. Paul
did; " I reckon, that the sufferings of this pre
sent time are not worthy to be compared with
the- glory which shall be revealed in us," Rom.
viii. 18, every thing fairly considered, I reckon
that the trouble which the study of his reli
gion demands, the sacrifices exacted of God,
the constraint to which I am subjected in im
molating to him my sinful passions, in resist
ing a torrent of corruption, in struggling
against the influence of bad example, in strain
ing to rise above flesh and blood, above self-
love and nature: every thing fairly considered,
I reckon that whatever is demanded of us by
God, when we come to his table, is not once
to be compared with the favours which he
there dispenses, with the grand objects which

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[SEE. LXXVI

he there displays, with the pardon which he
there pronounces, witli the peace of conscience
which he there bestows, with the eternal glory
which he there promises. To be destitute of
such feelings as these, when we partake of the
Lord's Supper, is to profane it. Examine
yourselves once more by this standard. Want
of feeling, this was the third head of com
parison between profane Jews, and profane
Christian professors: " Ye offer polluted bread
upon mine altar; ye say the table of the Lord
is contemptible."

Let each of us examine himself by an appli
cation of the truths now delivered. I shall
address myself,

1. To those who, on reviewing their former
communion services, see cause to consider
themselves as chargeable with the guilt which
God imputed to the Jews who lived in the
days of Malachi. And would to God that this
topic of discourse might have no reference to
any one in this assembly! Would to God that
no one of you might be justly ranked in any of
the odious classes which we have enumerated!

But only employ a moment's reflection, on
the shortness of the time usually devoted to
preparation for par taking of the Lord's Supper.
It is evident, as I think, from all we have said,
that the preparation necessary to a worthy
receiving of it, is a work, nay, a work which
calls for both attention and exertion. But do
we, of a truth, set apart much of our time to
this work? I do not mean to examine all the
cases in which a man may communicate un
worthily; I confine ' myself to a single point,
and only repeat this one reflection: Prepara
tion for the Lord's table is a work which re
quires time, attention, exertion. That is
enough; that proves too much against us all.
For we are constrained to acknowledge, that
it is by no means customary among us to re
tire for meditation, to fast, to engage in pecu
liar acts of devotion, on the days which pre
cede a communion solemnity. It is no unusual
thing to see, on those days, at many of our
houses, parties formed, social festivity going
on: in these we see the same games, the same
amusements, the same dissipation, as at other
times. I have reason to believe that in other
protestant countries, though the same corrup
tions but too universally prevail, I believe,
nevertheless, that such days are there distin
guished by the suspension of parties of pleasure,
by discontinuance of certain practices, perhaps
abundantly innocent in themselves, but, at the
same time, too foreign to the design of the
holy communion, to engage our attention,
when we have an immediate prospect of par
taking of it. But in these provinces, we are
so far from coming up to the spirit and the
truth of Christianity, the exterior order and
decency of it are hardly observed.

But if this reflection be insufficient to con
vince you of a truth so mortifying, as that
there is much unworthy communicating in the
midst of us; think, I beseech you, on the slight-
ness of the changes which these solemnities
produce. Here is the touchstone; this is the
infallible standard by which to determine the
interesting question under discussion. Four
times a year we almost all of us come to the
table of the Lord Jesus Christ; four times a

year we partake of the holy sacrament of the
supper; four times a year, consequently, this
church ought to assume a new appearance;
four times a year we ought to see multitudes
of new converts. But do we see them of a
truth? Ah! I dare not dive to the bottom of
this mortifying subject. The evil is but too
apparent; we have but too good reason to al
lege, that there is much unworthy communi
cating in the midst of us.

It is with you, unhappy professors of the
Christian name, with you I must begin the ap
plication of this discourse: with you who have
so often found out the fatal secret of drawing
a mortal poison from that sacred table: with
you, who are, by and by, going once more
perhaps to derive a curse from the very bosom
of benediction, and death from the fountain
of life.

Do not deceive yourselves; seek not a dis
guise from your own wretchedness; think not
of extenuating the apprehension of your dan
ger; listen, O listen to the fearful threatenings
denounced by the prophet, against God's an
cient people, after he had addressed them in
the words of the text: " Cursed be the deceiver
which .... voweth and sacrificeth unto the
Lord a corrupt thing .... if ye will not
hear, and if ye will not lay it to heart, to give
glory unto my name, saith the Lord of hosts,
I will even send a curse upon you, and I will
curse your blessings .... I will corrupt your
seed, and spread dung upon your faces, even
the dung of your solemn feasts," chap. i. 14;
ii. 2, 3.

But on the other hand, infuse not poison
into your wounds, aggravate not the image of
your wretchedness, but attend to the comforta
ble words, which immediately follow those of
my text: " Now I pray you, beseech God that
he will be gracious unto us .... he will re
gard your persons," ver. 9. Tb» sentence of
your condemnation is not yet executed: the
doom of death which has been pronounced
against you is not irrevocable. I see you still
blended with Christians who have communi-
^cated worthily, and who are going to repeat
that delightful service: I still behold "the
riches of God's goodness, and forbearance, and
long-suffering .... leading you to repent
ance," Rom. ii. 4, and you may still become
partakers in the blessedness of this day.

You must have recourse to that same Jesus
whom you have so cruelly insulted: you must
be covered with that very blood which you
have " trampled under foot" in a manner so
profane: you must flee and take refuge under
the shadow of that very cross, to which you
was going to nail afresh the Lord of glory: you
must, by ardent and importunate supplication,
avert the thunderbolt, which is ready to be
launched against your guilty head; " O Lord,
rebuke me not in thy wrath; neither chasten
me in thy hot displeasure," Ps. xxxviii. 1.
" Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and
done this evil in thy sight; .... deliver me
from blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my
salvation; restore unto me the joy of thy sal
vation; and uphold me with thy free Spirit,"
Ps. Ii. 4. 14. 12.

But, above all, resolutions sincere, deter
minate, efficacious, followed up by execution

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199

from the moment you retire from this plac
must supply the want of preparation, and th
communicating of this day must make up th
defects of all that preceded it. And if Go<
has not in mercy granted you such disposition
as these, may he inspire you, at least, with a
resolution not to approach his table, for fear ol
arming his right hand with hotter thunder
bolts to crush and destroy you! or rather, ma]
God grant you those happy dispositions, am
graciously accept them when bestowed! ma]
it please God to be disarmed by your repent
ance, to gather up your tears, to regard with
an eye of favour your efforts, your feeble ef
forts! May God grant your absolution, your
salvation, to the earnest prayers of these his
faithful servants, or rather, to the all-powerfu
intercession of the Redeemer, unprotected by
which the most eminent of saints durst not lift
up their eyes to heaven, arid approach the
throne of the divine Majesty.

2. I now turn to you, my dearly belovec
brethren, who, while you reflect on commu
nion seasons past, can enjoy the testimony of
conscience, that you drew nigh to God in some
state of preparation, and that you have reason
to hope for a repetition of the same felicity
This ceremony is so august; the mysteries
which it unfolds, are so awful; the punishment
denounced against those who profane it, is so
tremendous, that it is impossible to escape
every emotion of fear, when engaged in the
celebration of it. Study to be sensible of your
own weakness. Say, in the language of re
pentance the most lively and sincere, and of
humility the most profound, " If thou, Lord,
shouldst mark iniquities: O Lord, who shall
stand?" Ps. cxxx. 3. " O Lord God, I am not
worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of
all the truth which thou hast showed unto thy
servant," Gen. xxxii. 10. Stand in awe of the
presence of the majesty of God Almighty; cry
out with Jacob, " How dreadful is this place!
this is none other than the house of God, and
this is the gate of heaven," Gen. xxvii. 17.

But while you render unto God, the homage
of holy fear, honour him likewise with that of
holy confidence. Think not that he loves to
be always viewed as "the great, the mighty,
and the terrible God," Neh. ix. 32, the God
who " is a consuming fire," Heb. xii. 29. He
draws nigh to you in this ordinance, not with
awful manifestations of vengeance; but with
all the attractions of his grace, with all the gifts
of his Spirit, with all the demonstrations of his
love. Bow down over the mystical ark, to
gether with the celestial intelligences, and ad
mire the wonders which it contains, and be
holding with them " the glory" of your Re
deemer, with them cry out, " Holy, holy, holy
is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of
his glory," Isa. vi. 3.

Study to know and to feel the whole extent
of your felicity, and let a sense of the benefits
with which God hath loaded thee, kindle the
hallowed flame of gratitude in your hearts.
" Hast thou ever, O my soul, been made sensi
ble of the unbounded nature of thy happiness?

Hast thou exerted thyself to the uttermost, to
take all the immeasurable dimensions of the
love of God? Hast thou reflected profoundly,
on a God who was made flesh, who rescues
thee from everlasting misery, who covers thy
person with his own, that the arrows of divine
wrath may pierce him only, without reaching
thee? Hast thou seriously considered, that if
God had hurried thee out of the world in a
state of unrepented guilt; if he had not pluck
ed thee, by a miracle of grace, out of the vor
tex of human things, instead of being surround
ed, as now, with these thy fellow-believers in
Christ Jesus, thou mightest have been doomed
to the society of demons; instead of those songs
of praise to which thy voice is now attuned,
thou mightest this day have been mingling
thy howlings with those of the victims, whom
the wrath of God is immolating in the regions
of despair. Let the blessedness which God is
accumulating upon us, support us Under all the
ills which we are called to endure. Our life
is not yet concluded; our warfare is not yet
accomplished.

We are about to return into the world; we
have still difficulties and dangers to encounter,
bitter potions to swallow, afflictions to suffer;
especially in this age of fire and of blood so
fatal to the Christian name. But, supported
by this grace of God, we shall be able to resist
and to overcome the most violent assaults.

We are going to return into the world,
amidst the snares of the wicked one; he will
still aim many a blow at our souls; this flesh
is not yet entirely mortified; the old man has
not yet received his death's wound; evil con
cupiscence is not yet completely extinguished;
we shall fall into sin again. Humiliating re
flection to a soul which this day places all its
delight in being united unto God! But, sup
ported by this peace of God, we shall find the
means of remedying the weakness with which
we may be still overtaken, as it has furnished
the means of deliverance from those into which
we had already fallen.

We are going to return into the world, it is
high time to think of our departure out of it.
We are conversant with the living; we must
;hink of being speedily mingled with the dead.
We yet live; we must die. We must be look-
ng forward to those mortal agonies which are
>reparing; to that bed of languishing which is
Iready spread; to that funeral procession
which is marshalling for us. But, supported
y this peace of God, we shall be more than
conquerors in all these conflicts: with " the
Spirit of him who hath raised up Christ from
he dead," we shall bid defiance to all the
)owers of " the king of terrors." Jesus, who
' hath destroyed him who had the power of
eath," will deliver us from his dominion.
Through that gloomy night which is fast ap-
jroaching, and which is already covering our
yes with its awful shade, we shall behold the
ays of " the Son of righteousness," and their
livine light shall dissipate to us all the horrors
f " the valley of the shadow of death." Amen.
?o God be honour and glory for ever. Amen.

200

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

[SER. LXXVII

SERMON LXXVII.

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL

PART I.

2 COR. xii. 2 — 4.

I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years
ago, (ichether in the body, I cannot tell; or
whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God
knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third
heaven. Jlnd 1 knew such a man, (whether
in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell:
God knoweth;) how that he was caught up into
paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it
is not lawful for a man to utter.
IF there be a passage in the whole Bible ca
pable of inflaming, and at the same time of
baffling human curiosity, it is that which I
have just now read. I do not mean a vain and
presumptuous curiosity, but a curiosity ap
parently founded on reason and justice. One
of the principal causes of our want of ardour
in the pursuit of heavenly blessings, is our
having no experienced witness, who, after hav
ing himself tasted the sweetness of them, con
veyed to us clear and distinct ideas on the sub
ject. It is a difficult matter to love that of
which we have no knowledge.

St. Paul seems to have been reserved of God
to supply this defect, and to fill up, if I may
use the expression, this void in religion. By a
supernatural dispensation of grace, he passes
into the other world before death; and he re
turns thence before the general resurrection.
The whole church, awakened to eager atten
tion, calls upon him for a detail of the wonders
of the world unknown. And as the Israelites,
after having despatched spies into the land of
promise, burned with ardent desire to see and
hear them, in order that they might obtain in
formation respecting the country, whether it
merited the exertions necessary to acquire pos
session: in like manner, the Christian world
seems to flock round our apostle, in earnest ex
pectation of being informed what that felicity
is, into which they are invited to enter by agate
so strait. They seem with one accord to ask
him: What did you hear? What did you seer
in the view of determining, upon his report,
this all important question, whether they should
still persevere in their exertions, to surmount
the obstacles which they have to encounter in
the way of salvation, or whether they should
relinquish the pursuit.

But St. Paul fulfils not this expectation:
he maintains a profound silence respecting the
objects which had been presented to his mind:
he speaks of his rapture, only in the view of
confounding those false teachers who took upon
them to set at nought his ministry: and all
the description he gives of paradise, amounts
to no more than a declaration of his own utter
inability to describe what he had seen and
heard. " I knew a man in Christ: a man in
Christ," that is to say, a Christian, and by
this denomination the apostle is characteriz
ing himself, " I knew a man in Christ above
fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I
cannot tell: or whether out of the body, I

cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one
caught up to the third heaven. And I knew
such a man, (whether in the body, or out of
the body, -I cannot tell: God knoweth;) how
that he was caught up into paradise, and heard
unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a
man to utter."

We propose in the following discourse, my
brethren, to attempt a solution of the diffi
culty which arises from this silence of the apos
tle. We propose to discuss this singular, but
interesting question; Wherefore is the celes
tial felicity " unspeakable?" Wherefore should
it be unlawful for a man to utter it? We
shall begin with some elucidation of the ex
pressions of our text, inquiring, 1. Into the
era to which reference is here made; " I knew
a man in Christ above fourteen years ago."
2. By considering what is said respecting the
manner of this rapture; " Whether in the
body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body
I cannot tell: God knoweth." 3. What we
are to understand by paradise, and the third
heaven. 4. Finally, What ideas we are to
affix to those unspeakable words to which our
apostle alludes in the text; and these will consti
tute the first general division of our subject.

But in the second, which we have princi
pally in view, we shall examine the point al
ready indicated, by inquiring, whether the si
lence of Scripture respecting a state of future
happiness, suggests any thing tending to cool
our ardour in the pursuit of it: we shall en
deavour to make you sensible, that nothing is
so much calculated to convey lofty ideas of
the paradise of God, as that very veil which
conceals it from our eyes. If you fully enter
into the great aim and end of this discourse,
it will produce on your minds those effects to
which all our exhortations, all our importuni
ties are adapted, namely, to kindle in your
hearts an ardent desire to go to God; to put
into your mouths that exclamation of the
psalmist: " How great is thy goodness, O God,
which thou hast laid up for them that fear
thee!" Ps. xxxi. 19: to place you in the very
situation of our apostle, who after having been
" caught up to the third heaven," could no
longer endure to live upon the earth, had his
eyes opened to every path that led to death,
could talk no more of any thing but of dy
ing, " but of finishing his course," 2 Tim. iv.
7, but of being " absent from the body," 2 Cor.
v. 8, but of departing, but of " being with Christ,
which was to him far better," Phil. i. 23.

I. We begin with some elucidation of the
expressions of the text, and of these,

1. The first refers to the era of St. Paul's
rapture, I knew a man in Christ " above four
teen years ago." But were we to enter into a
complete discussion of this question, it would
occupy much more time than is allotted for the
whole of our present exercise. Never had
preacher a fairer opportunity of wasting an
hour to his hearers, in useless investigation,
and impertinent quotations. We could easily
supply you with an ample list of the opinions
of interpreters, and of the reasons adduced by
each, in support of his own. We could tell
you, first, how it is alleged by some that these
fourteen years denote the time elapsed from the
conversion of St. Paul; and that his rapture

SER. LXXVIL]

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

201

took place during those three days in which " he
was without sight, and did neither eat nor
drink," Acts ix. 9., and to this purpose we
could quote Capel, Lira, Cave, Tostat, and
many other authors, unknown to the greater
part of my audience.

We might add, that some other commenta
tors refer this epoch to the eighth year after
St. Paul's conversion to Christianity, the forty-
fourth of Jesus Christ, and the twelfth after
his death.

We could show you how others insist, with
a greater air of probability, that the apostle
enjoyed this heavenly vision, when, after his
contention with Barnabas, humiliating instance
of the infirmity of the greatest saints, he pro
secuted his ministry in a different track. Those
who adopt this opinion, allege, in support of it,
the words of St. Paul in chap. xxii. of the
Acts, ver. 17. "It came to pass, that when I
was come again to Jerusalem, even while I
prayed in the temple, I was in a trance." But
disquisitions of this sort are unworthy of the
place which I now have the honour to fill. I
have matters of much higher importance to
propose to you.

2. The manner of St. Paul's rapture stands
in need, perhaps, of some elucidation. He has
expressed it in terms very much calculated to
check curiosity. " Whether in the body I can
not tell: or whether out of the body 1 cannot
tell." We, accordingly, presume not to pur
sue researches on points respecting which the
apostle himself professes ignorance.

Let it only be remarked, that God was pleas
ed, in former times, to manifest himself in many
different manners. Sometimes it was by a
voice: witness that which issued out of the
cloud, Exod. xvi. 10; witness that which ad
dressed Moses from the burning bush, Ex. iii.
4; witness that which thundered from Mount
Sinai at the giving of the law, Exod. xix. 16;
witness that which answered Job out of the
whirlwind, chap, xxxviii. 1; witness that from
above the mercy-seat, Exod. xxv. 22.

He was pleased at other times, to reveal
himself in dreams and visions of the night: as
to Jacob at Bethel, Gen. xxviii. 12: to Abirne-
lech, Gen. xx. 3; and toPharoah's butler, Gen.
xl. 9.

He sometimes manifested himself in visions
to persons awake. Thus he presented to Moses
in Horeb a bush burning with fire yet uncon-
surried, Exod. iii. 4: to Balaam, an angel with
his sword drawn in his hand, Num. xxii. 32;
to Joshua, the captain of the Lord's host, Josh.
v. 15.

He sometimes communicated himself to men
through the medium of inspiration, accompa
nied with emotions which constrained them
to speak out. This was the case with Jere
miah, as we read, chap. xx. 8, 9, " The word
of the Lord was made a reproach unto me, and
a derision daily. Then I said, I will not make
mention of him, nor speak any more in his
name. But his word was in mine heart as a
burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was
weary with forbearing."

But of all those miraculous dispensations,

the most noble and exalted was that of rapture

or ecstacy. By the term ecstacy we mean that

powerful conflict, that concentration of thought,

VOL. II.— 26

that profound intenseness of mental applica
tion, under the influence of which the enrap
tured person is emancipated from the commu
nications of the senses, forgets his body, and is
completely absorbed by the object of his medi
tation.

Rapture is perhaps a degree superior to ecstacy.
Sometimes it affects the mind. This is the case
when God, in virtue of that sovereign power
which he possesses over the soul of man, ex
cites in it the same ideas, causes it to perceive
the same objects, with which it would be struck,
were the body, to which it is united, really in
a place from whence it is extremely remote.
It is thus that we must explain the rapture of
the prophet Ezekiel, chap. viii. 3; and that of
which St. John speaks in the book of Reve
lation, chap. i. 10.

It sometimes affects the body. This was the
case of Philip, who, after he had converted to
the faith of Christ the eunuch of Candace,
queen of the Ethiopians, and baptized him, was
"caught away by the spirit of the Lord, that
the eunuch saw him no more," Acts viii. 39.

Though St. Paul has spoken very sparingly
of the manner in which God was pleased to
reveal himself to him, he has said enough to
show that it is holy rapture he means. But
whether it were that which transported the
body into another place, or that which trans
ported the mind only: nay, whether there be a
real difference between rapture and ecstacy, no
one can pretend to determine, without incur
ring the charge of presumption. The apostle
himself declares that it surpassed his own
knowledge; " whether in the body, I cannot
tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell:
God knoweth, such an one caught up to the
third heaven caught up into paradise."

3. The third heaven, paradise: another sub
ject of elucidation. The third heaven is the
habitation of the blessed; that in which God
displays the most splendid and glorious tokens
of his presence: this is disputed by no one. —
But the other expression employed by St. Paul,
" caught up into paradise," has furnished mat
ter for controversy among the learned. It has
long been made a question whether paradise
and the third heaven denote one and the same
place. Certain modern interpreters have main
tained the negative, with excessive warmth.
A great number of the ancient fathers had
adopted the same opinion. They considered
paradise as a mansion in which the soul resided
till the resurrection, and they distinguished it
from heaven. Justin Martyr, disputing with
Tryphon, condemns, as equally erroneous, the
denying of the doctrine of the resurrection,
arid the opinion which supposes that the souls
of men go to God immediately after death. In
this they follow the prejudices of the Jews.—
Many of them believe that the souls of good
people are translated to the garden of Eden,
to wait for the day of the resurrection: they
accordingly employ this form of prayer for dy
ing persons: " May his soul be received into
the garden of Eden; may he have his part in
paradise; may he repose, and sleep in peace till
the coming of the Comforter, who shall speak
peace to the fathers. O ye to whom the trea
sures of paradise are committed, open now A3
gates that he may enter in."

202

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

[SER. LXXVII.

But this error, however long it may have
subsisted, and by whatever great names it may
have been maintained, is nevertheless an error,
as might be demonstrated by more arguments
than we have now leisure to adduce. You
have only to read the prayer which Jesus Christ
addressed to his father a little before his death,
where you will find him demanding immediate
admission into the heavenly felicity. He says,
likewise, to the penitent thief on the cross,
" Verily I say unto thee, to-day thou shalt be
with me in paradise," Luke xxiii. 43. Para
dise, therefore, is the place in which God dis
plays the most august symbols of his presence,
and is not different from the third heaven.

Now, if it be asked, why this name is given
to the third heaven, it will be necessary to recur
to its first original. Persons who have applied
to the dry study of etymology assure us that
the word is of Persian extraction, and that the
Persians gave the name of paradise to the parks
and gardens of their kings. It came in process
of time to denote all places of a similar de
scription. It passed from the Persians to the
Greeks, to the Hebrews, to the Latins.* We
find it employed in this sense in Nehemiah ii.
8, in Ecclesiastes ii. 5, in many profane au
thors; and the Jews gave this name to the gar
den of Eden in which Adam was placed. You
will find it in the second chapter of the book
of Genesis. But enough, and more than
enough, has been suggested on this head.

4. There is but one particular more that re
quires some elucidation. " I knew a man,"
adds the apostle, " who heard unspeakable
words, which it is not lawful for a man to ut
ter." To see things, and to hear words, are, in
the style of the sacred writers, frequently used
as phrases of similar import, and it is not on
this ground that the difficulty of the present
article presses. But, what can be the meaning
of the apostle, when he asserts that the words
which he heard, or the things which he saw,
" are unspeakable," and " which it is not law
ful for a man to utter?" Had he been laid un
der a prohibition to reveal the particulars of his
vision? Had he lost the ideas of it? Or wer£
the things which he heard and saw of such a
nature as to be absolutely inexpressible by
mortal lips? There is some plausible reason
ing that may be employed in support of each
of the three opinions.

The first has numerous partisans. Their
belief is that God had revealed mysteries to
St. Paul, but with a prohibition to disclose them
to the world; they believe that the apostle, after
having been rapt into the third heaven, had
received a charge similar to that which was
given to St. John, in a like situation, and which
is transmitted to us in chap. x. of the book of
Revelation, 4th verse, " Seal up those things
which the seven thunders uttered, and write
them not." Thus it was that the pagans de
nominated certain of their mysteries ineffable,
because it was forbidden to reveal them. Thus,
too, the Jews called the name of Jehovah in
effable, because it was unlawful to pronounce it.

The second opinion is not destitute of pro
bability. As the soul of St. Paul had no sen
sible intercourse with his body, during this rap-

* Pollux Onomast.

ture, it is not unlikely that the objects which
struck him, having left no trace in the brain,
he lost the recollection of a great part of what
he had seen.

But we are under no obligation to restrict
ourselves to either of these senses. The words
of the original translated " unspeakable, which
it is not lawful for a man to utter," frequently
denote that which is not of a nature to be ex
plained: thus it is said, that " the Spirit rnaketh
intercession for us, with groanings which can
not be uttered," Rom. viii. 26. Thus, too, St.
Peter mentions a "joy unspeakable and full of
glory," chap. i. 8., and we shall presently see
that the heavenly felicity is, in this sense, un
speakable.

Again, among those who have pursued re
searches, respecting the things which St. Paul
declares to be unspeakable, some have pretend
ed to tell us, that he means the divine essence:
others, that it was the hierarchal order of the
celestial intelligences; others, that it was the
beauty and excellency of glorified souls; others,
that it was the mystery of the rejection of the
Jewish nation, and of the calling of the Gen
tiles; others, that it was the destination of the
Christian church through its successive periods.
But wherefore should we attempt to affix pre
cise limits to the things which our apostle heard
and saw? He was rapt up to the very seat of
the blessed; and he there, undoubtedly, par
took of the felicity which they enjoy.

Had men employed their imagination only
on the discussion of this question, no great
harm could have ensued. But it is impossible
to behold, without indignation, the inventors
of fictitious pieces carrying their insolence so
far, as to forge writings, which they ascribed
to the Spirit of God himself, and in which they
pretended those mysteries were explained. St.
Epiphanius relates,* that certain ancient here
tics, these were the Gaianites or Cainites, had
invented a book which was afterwards adopted
by the Gnostics. They gave it the name of
The Ascension of St. Paul, and presume to al
lege, that this book discovered what those " un
speakable things" were, which the apostle had
heard.f St. Augustine speaks of the same
work, as a gross imposture. Nicephorus tells
us,J that a story was current, under the empe
ror Theodosius, of the discovery, in the bouse
of St. Paul at Tarsus, of a marble chest, buried
in the earth, and which contained the Apoca
lypse of St. Paul. He himself refutes this fic
tion, by the testimony of a man of Tarsus, a
member of the Presbytery. -

The impostor, who is the author of the work
ascribed to Dionysius the Areopagite, and who
gives himself out as that illustrious proselyte
of our apostle, boasts of his having heard him
relate wonderful things respecting the nature,
the glory, the gifts, the beauty of angels; and
upon this testimony it is that he founds the
chimerical idea which he has given us of the
celestial hierarchy.

But let us have done with all these frivolous
conjectures, with all these impious fictions.
We are going to propose much nobler objects
to your meditation, and to examine, as has

* Hares. 38. f Treatise 98. on St. John.

J Hist. Eccles. lib. lii. cap. 34.

SER. LXXVIL]

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

203

been said, this singular, but interesting ques
tion, Wherefore is the celestial glory of such
nature as to defy description? Why is it " no
lawful for a man to utter them?" We are go
ing to avail ourselves of this very inability tc
describe these gloriously unspeakable things, a
the means of conveying to you exalted idea
of them, and of kindling in your souls more
ardent desires after the possession of them
This shall be the subject of the second part of
our discourse.

SERMON LXXVII.

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

PART II.

2 COR. xii. 2—4.

I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago
(whether in the body I cannot tell; or whether
out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;)
such an one caught up to the third heaven.
Jlnd I knew such a man, (whether in the body,
or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;)
how that he was caught up into paradise, and
heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful
for a man to utter.
HAVING presented you with some brief eluci
dations of the expressions of the text, namely,
1. Respecting the era to which reference is
here made; " I knew a man in Christ above
fourteen years ago:" 2. Respecting the manner
of his rapture; " whether in the body, I cannot
tell: or out of the body, I cannot tell: God
knoweth:" 3. Respecting the place to which
Paul was caught; " paradise, the third hea
ven:" and, 4. Respecting what he there saw
and heard; " unspeakable words, which it is
not lawful for a man to utter:" we proceed to,
II. The second general head, namely, to in
quire, whether the silence of Scripture on the
subject of a state of future happiness, suggests
any thing that has a tendency to cool our ar
dour in the pursuit of it; or, whether this very
veil, which conceals the paradise of God from
our eyes, is not above all things calculated to
convey the most exalted ideas of it.

We refer the felicity of the blessed in hea
ven to three general notions. The blessed in
heaven possess, 1. Superior illumination: 2.
They are prompted by inclinations the most no
ble and refined: 3. They enjoy the purest sensi
ble pleasures. A defect of genius prevents our
ability to partake of their illumination; a de
fect of taste prevents our adopting their incli
nations; a defect of faculty prevents our per
ception of their pleasures. In these three re
spects, the celestial felicity is " unspeakable:"
in these three respects, " it is not lawful for a
man to utter it."

1. The blessed in heaven possess superior
illumination: a defect of genius prevents our
participation of it.

While we are in this world, we are deficient
in many ideas. Properly speaking, we have
ideas of two kinds only: that of body, and that
of spirit. The combination of those two ideas
forms all our perceptions, all our speculations,
the whole body of our knowledge. And what

ever efforts may have been made by certain
philosophers to prove that we are acquainted
with beings intermediate between mind and
matter, they have never been able to persuade
others of it, and probably entertained no such
persuasion themselves. But if all beings which
are within the sphere of our knowledge be re-
ferrible to these two ideas, where is the person
who is bold enough to affirm, that there are in
fact no others? Where is the man who dares
to maintain, that the creation of bodies, and
that of spirits, have exhausted the omnipotence
of the Creator? Who shall presume to affirm,
that this infinite intelligence, to whom the uni
verse is indebted for its existence, could find
only two ideas in his treasures?

May it not be possible that the blessed in
heaven, have the idea of certain beings which
possess no manner of relation to any thing of
which we have a conception upon earth? May
it not be possible that God impressed this idea
on the soul of St. Paul? May not this be one
of the reasons of the impossibility to which he
reduced, of describing what he had seen:
For when we speak to other men, we go on the
supposition that they have souls similar to our
own, endowed with the same faculties, enriched
with the same sources of thought. W7e possess
certain signs, certain words to express our con
ceptions. We oblige our fellow men to retire
within themselves, to follow up their principles,
to examine their notions. It is thus we are
enabled to communicate our notions to each
other. But this is absolutely impracticable
with regard to those beings who may be known
o the blessed above. There is in this respect,
no notion in common to us and them. We
lave no term by which to express them. God
limself alone has the power of impressing new
deas on the soul of man. All that men can
do is to render us attentive to those which we
already have, and to assist us in unfolding
hem.

Besides, so long as we are upon earth, we
lave but a very imperfect knowledge of the
wo orders of beings, to which all our know-
edge is confined. Our ideas are incomplete.
Ve have only a very imperfect perception of
>ody, and of spirit. We have,

1. Very imperfect ideas of body. And with-

ut entering here into the discussion of the

ndless metaphysical questions of which the

ubjects admit, and, in order to convey an ex-

mple of it, brought down to the level of the

neanest capacity, the magnitude of bodies, and

heir smallness, almost equally exceed our com-

rehension. We begin with forming to our-

slves the idea of a portion of matter; we di-

ide it into minute particles; we reduce it to

owder, till the particles become entirely im-

erceptible to our senses. When the senses

ail, we have recourse to imagination. We

ibdivide, in imagination, that same portion of

matter, particle after particle, till it is reduced

to such a degree of minuteness, as to escape

imagination, as it had eluded the senses. After

the senses and the imagination have been

stretched to the uttermost, we call in thought

to our aid; we consult the idea which we have

of matter; we subject it to a new subdivision

in thought. Thought transcends imagination

and the senses. But after having pursued it to

204

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

[SER. LXXVII.

a certain point, we find thought absorbed in its
turn, and we feel ourselves equally lost, whether
we are disposed to admit an infinite progression
in this division, or whether we are disposed to
stop at a certain determinate point.

What we have said of the smallness of bo
dies, holds equally true of their immensity of
magnitude. We are able, with the help of the
senses of the imagination, and of thought, to
increase a mass of matter, to suppose it still
greater, to conceive it still exceeding the for
mer magnitude. But after we have acted, ima
gined, reflected; and, after we have risen in
thought to a certain degree of extension, were
we disposed to go on to the conception of one
still greater, we should at length feel ourselves
absorbed in the inconceivable magnitude of
matter, as it had eluded our pursuit by its mi
nuteness. So incomplete are our ideas even of
matter. And if so, then,

2. How much more imperfect still is our
knowledge of what relates to mind! Who ever
presumed to unfold all that a spirit is capable
of? Who has ever determined the connexion
which subsists within us, between the faculty
which feels, and that which reflects? Who has
ever discovered the manner in which one spirit
is enabled to communicate its feelings and re
flections to another? Who has formed a con
ception of the means by which a spirit becomes
capable of acting upon a body, and a body upon
a spirit? It is to me then demonstrably certain,
that we know but in an imperfect manner, the
very things of which we have any ideas at all.

The blessed in heaven have complete ideas
of these; they penetrate into the minutest parti
cles of matter; they discern all the wonders, all
the latent springs, all the subtility of the small
est parts of the body, which contain worlds in
miniature, an epitome of the great universe,
and not less calculated to excite admiration of
the wisdom of the Creator:* they traverse that
immensity of space, those celestial globes, those
immeasurable spheres, the existence of which
it is impossible for us to call in question, but
whose enormous mass and countless multitude
confound and overwhelm us. The blessed in
heaven know the nature of spirits, their facul
ties, their relations, their intercourse, their laws.
But all this is inexplicable. Is any one capable
of changing our senses? Is any one capable of
giving a more extensive range to our imagina
tion? Is it possible to remove the barriers which
limit thought?

While we are on the earth, we discern but. very
imperfectly the relations which subsist even be
tween the things which we do know. Contract
ed, incomplete as our ideas are, we should, ne
vertheless, make some progress in our research
es after truth, had we the power of reflecting,
of recollection, of fixing our attention to a cer
tain degree, of comparing beings with each
other, and thus advancing from those which
we already know, to those with which we are
hitherto unacquainted. Men are more or less
intelligent, according as they are in the habit
of being more or less attentive. A man brought
up in the midst of noise, in tumult; a man

* For a farther illustration of this part of the subject,
the Philosophical and Christian reader is referred to the
Letters of Euler to a German Princess, Letter 1. vol. i.
published by the Translator of this volume, 1794.

whom tumult and noise pursue wherever he
goes, is incapable of composed recollection,
because carrying always in himself a source of
distraction, he becomes incapable of profound
reflection upon any one object abstracted from
and unconnected with matter. But a philoso
pher accustomed to meditate, is able to follow
up a principle to a degree totally inaccessible
to the other. Nevertheless, whatever a man's
attainments may be in the art of attention, it
must always be contracted within very narrow
limits; because we still consist in part, of body;
because this body is ever exciting sensations in
the soul; because the soul is continually dis
tracted by these sensations; because that, in or
der to meditate, there is occasion for a great
concourse of the spirits necessary to the sup
port of the body, so that attention wearied out,
exhausted, does violence to that body; to such
a degree, that if, by the aid of an extraordina
ry concourse of spirits, we should be disposed
to exert the brain beyond a certain pitch, the
effort would prove fatal to us.

The blessed in heaven are not liable to have
their attention disturbed by the action of the
senses. St. Paul, by means of a supernatural
interposition, had his soul, if not separated
from the body (for he himself knows not
whether his rapture were MI the body, or out of
the body,) at least emancipated from that con
tinual distraction to which it is subject, in vir
tue of its union with matter. He could be
self-collected, attentive, absorbed of the ob
jects which God presented to his mind. He
could discern the mutual relation of the de
signs of eternal wisdom, the harmony of the
works of God. the concatenation of his pur
poses, the combination of his attributes; sub
lime objects which he could not possibly dis
play to men incapable of that degree of atten
tion, without which no conception can be form
ed of those objects.

Does not this first reason, my beloved bre
thren, of our apostle's silence on the subject of
the heavenly felicity, already produce on your
souls, the effect at which this discourse is prin
cipally aiming? Has it not already kindled
within you an ardent desire to attain that feli
city? Soul of man, susceptible of so many ideas,
of such enlarged knowledge, of illumination
so unbounded, is it possible for thee to sojourn
without reluctance, in a body which narrows
thy sphere, and cramps thy nobler faculties?
Philosopher, who art straining every nerve,
who givest thyself no rest to attain a degree of
knowledge incompatible with the condition of
humanity: geometrician, who, after an incredi
ble expense of thought, of meditation, of re
flection, art able to attain at most the know
ledge of the relations of a circle or of a trian
gle: theologian, who, after so many days of la
bour and nights of watching, hast scarcely ar
rived at the capacity of explaining a few pas
sages of holy writ, of correcting, by an effort,
some silly prejudice; wretched mortals, how
much are you to be pitied! how impotent and
ineffectual are all exertions to acquire real
knowledge! I think I am beholding one of
those animals, the thickness of whose blood,
the grossness of whose humours, the encum
brance of that house with which nature loads
them, preventing them from moving with fa-

SER. LXXVIL]

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

205

cility; I think I am beholding one of those ani
mals, striving to move over an immense space
in a little, little hour. He strains, he bustles,
he toils, he flatters himself with having made
a mighty progress, he exults in the thought of
attaining the end which he had proposed. The
hour elapses, and the progress which he has
made is a mere nothing, compared with the
immensity of the space still untrodden.

Thus, loaded with a body replenished with
gross humours, retarded by matter, we are able,
in the course of the longest life, to acquire but
a very slender and imperfect degree of know
ledge. This body must drop: this spirit must
disengage itself before it can become capable
of soaring unencumbered, of penetrating into
futurity, and of attaining that height and
depth of knowledge which the blessed in hea
ven possess.

Not only from revelation do we derive these
ideas, not even from reason, in its present high
state of improvement; they were entertained
in the ancient pagan world. We find this sub
ject profoundly investigated, I had almost said
exhausted in the Phsedon of Plato. Socrates
considers his body as the greatest obstacle in
the way of seeking after truth. And this brings
to my recollection the beautiful expression of a
certain Anchorite, to the same purpose; exten
uated, infirm, sinking under a load of years,
on the point of expiring, he breaks out into
singing. 'He is asked, Wherefore singest thou?
" Ah! I sing," says he, " because I see that
wall tumbling down, which hinders me from
beholding the face of God." Yes, this body
ia a wall which prevents our seeing God. Fall
down, fall down, interposing invidious wall:
fall down impenetrable wall, and then we shall
see God. But to man in his present state, to
man loaded with a body like this, the illumina
tion of the blessed in" heaven is among the
things which are unspeakable.

2. The blessed in heaven are prompted by
inclination the most noble and refined; a defect
of taste prevents our adopting and enjoying the
same inclinations.

All tastes are not similar. Men agree tole
rably well in the vague notions of honour, of
pleasure, of generosity, of nobility. But that
which appears pleasure to one, is insupportable
to another; that which appears noble, generous
to one, appears mean, grovelling, contempti
ble to another. So that the idea which you
might suggest to your neighbour, of a pleasant
and desirable mode of living, might, in all pro
bability, convey to him ideas of life the most
odious and disgusting.

Who is able to make a man plunged in busi
ness to comprehend, that there is pleasure in
expressible in studying truth, in making addi
tions to a stock of knowledge, in diving into
mysteries? Who is able to persuade a miser,
hat there is a delight which nothing can equal,
n relieving the miserable, in ministering to
their necessities, in sharing fortunes with them,
and thus, to use the expression of Scripture,
to draw nigh to a man's "own flesh?" Isa.
Iviii. 7. Who is able to convince a grovelling
and dastardly soul, that there is joy to be found
in pursuing glory through clouds of smoke and
•bowers of iron, in braving instant and certain

dangers, in bidding defiance to almost inevita
ble death? In general, what arguments are suf
ficient to convince a worldling, that the purest
and most perfect delights are to be enjoyed in
exercises of devotion, in those effusions of the
heart, in that emptying us of ourselves, of
which the saints of God have given us such
warm recommendations, and such amiable ex
amples? These are the things of the spirit of
God, which the natural man receiveth not, be
cause they are spiritually discerned," 1 Cor.
ii. 14: because he is destitute of that taste,
which alone can enable him to relish their
charms.

Now, my brethren, although the love of
God be the principle of all the exalted virtues
possessed by the saints in glory, as well as by
those who remain still on the earth; although
both agree in this general and vague notion,
that to love God is the sublimity of virtue;
nevertheless, there is a distance so inconceiva
ble, between the love which we have for God
on the earth, and that which inspires the bless
ed in heaven, that inclinations entirely differ
ent result from it.

We know God very imperfectly while we
are upon the earth, and our love to him is in
proportion to the imperfection of our know
ledge. To come to his holy temple, to hear
ken to his word, to sing his praises, to admin
ister and to partake of his sacramental ordi
nances; to pant after a union of which we can
not so much as form an idea, to practice the
virtues which our present condition imposes;
such is the taste which that love inspires; such
are the particular inclinations which it excites
in our souls. After all, how often are those
feelings blunted by prevailing attachment to
the creature? How often are they too faint to'
animate us to engage in those exercises? How
often do we present ourselves before God, like
victims dragged reluctantly to the altar? How
often must a sense of duty supply the want of
inclination, and hell opening under our feet,
produce in our souls the effects which ought to
flow from the love of God purely? But, be it
as it may, our love, so long as we continue
here below, can go no further than this. That
complete devotedness to God, those voluntary
sacrifices, that sublimity of virtue which refers
every thing to God and to him alone, are
wholly unknown to us; we have neither ideas
to conceive them ourselves, nor terms in which
to convey them to the minds of others.

The blessed in heaven know God perfectly,
and have a love to him proportioned to the
perfection of that knowledge, and inclinations
proportioned to that love. We know what
may be impressed on the heart of man, by the
idea of a God known as supremely wise, aa
supremely powerful, as supremely amiable.
The blessed in heaven take pleasure in exer
cises which Scripture describes in language
adapted to our present capacities. To this
purpose are such as the following expressions,
" To cast their crowns before the throne,"
Rev. iv. 10; "to behold always the face of
their father which is in heaven," Matt, xviii.
10, as courtiers do that of their sovereign: to
"cover their faces" in his presence, Isa. vi 2;
" to sing a new song before the throne," Rev.

206

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

. LXXVIf.

xiv. 3; to fly at his command with the rapidity
of the "wind and of a flame of fire," Heb. i.
7; to "cry one to another, Holy, holy, holy,
is the Lord of hosts," Isa. vi. 3; to burn, to
Dear the name of Seraphim, that is, burning
ivith zeal. These are emblems presented to
our imagination. The thing itself cannot be
brought down to the level of our capacity.
We are ignorant of the effect, because the
cause is far beyond our comprehension. We
are strangers to the joy flowing from it, because
\ve want the taste which alone can enable us to
relish such delights.

Nay more, with the taste which we have
upon the earth, such and such a joy of the
blessed above would appear the severest of
punishments to the greatest of saints among
us. The essence of the felicity of saints in
glory consists in loving God only, and all
other things in reference to God. The senti
ments by which they are animated relatively
to other beings, are not sentiments of blood,
of the spirits, of temperament, like those by
which we are actuated here below, they are
regulated by order; they refer all to God alone:
the blessed above are affected with the felicity
and the misery of others, only in so far as these
relate to the great moving principles by which
they are governed. But that felicity depicted
to men upon earth, and applied to particular
cases, would appear to them a real punishment.
Could a father relish a felicity which he was
told he could no-t possibly share with his child?
Could the friend enjoy tranquillity, were he
haunted with the thought, that the friend of
his heart lay groaning under chains of dark
ness? Have we so much love for order; are
we sufficiently disposed to refer all our incli
nations to God, so as to have that taste, which
considers objects as amiable and interesting,
only as they have a relation to that order, and
to that glory of the Creator? And do we not
feel, that a felicity relative to a taste which we
do not possess, nay, opposite to that which we
now have, is a felicity unspeakable.

3. The third notion which we suggested to^
you, of the heavenly felicity, is that of sensible
pleasure. A defect of faculty prevents our
perception of their pleasures.

Be not surprised that we introduce sensa
tions of pleasure, into the ideas of a felicity
perfectly pure, and perfectly conformable to
the sanctity of him who is the author of it.
Do not suspect that we are going to extract
from the grossly sensual notions of Mahomet,
the representation which we mean to give you
of the paradise of God. You hear us frequently
declaiming against the pleasures of sense.
But do not go to confound things under pre
tence of perfecting them; and under the affec
tation of decrying sensible pleasures, let us not
consider as an imperfection of the soul of man,
the power which it has to enjoy them. No,
my brethren, it is, on the contrary, one of its
highest perfections to be susceptible of those
sensations, to possess the faculty of scenting
the perfume of flowers, of relishing the savour
of meats, of delighting in the harmony of
sounds, and so of the other objects of sense.
If we declaim against your pleasures, it is be
cause you frequently sacrifice pleasures the
most sublime, to such as are pitiful and in

significant; pleasures of everlasting duration,
to those of a moment.

If we declaim against your pleasures, it is
because the attachment which you feel for
those of the earth, engages you to consider
them as the sovereign good, and prevents your
aspiring after that abundant portion, which is
laid up for you in heaven.

If we declaim against your pleasures, it is
because you regard the creatures through
which they are communicated, as if they were
the real authors of them. You ascribe to the
element of fire the essential property of warm
ing you, to aliments that of gratifying the pa
late, to sounds that of ravishing the ear. You
consider the creatures as so many divinities
which preside over your happiness; you pay
them homage; you prostrate your imagination
before them; not reflecting that God alone can
produce sensations in your soul, and that all
these creatures are merely the instruments and
the ministers of his Providence. But the
maxim remains incontrovertible; namely, that
the faculty of relishing pleasures is a per
fection of our soul, and one of its most glori
ous attributes.

But what merits particular attention is, that
this faculty which we have of receiving agreea
ble sensations, is extremely imperfect so long
as we remain upon the earth. It is restricted to
the action of the senses. Its activity is clogged
by the chains which fetter it down td matter.
Our souls are susceptible of innumerable more
sensations than we ever can receive in thia
world. As progress in knowledge admits of
infinity, so likewise may progress in the en
joyment of pleasure. In heaven the blessed
have the experience of this. There God ex
erts the plenitude of his power over the soul,
by exciting in it the most lively emotions of
delight; there his communications are propor
tional to the immortal nature of the glorified
spirit. This was produced in the soul of our
apostle.

"The pleasures which I have tasted," he
seems to say, " are not such as your present
faculties can reach. In order to make you
comprehend what I have felt, I must be en
dowed with the power of creating new laws of
the union subsisting between your soul and
your body. I must be endowed with the
capacity of suspending those of nature; or
rather, I must be possessed of the means of
tearing your soul asunder from that body. I
must have the power of transporting you in
an ecstacy, as I myself was. And considering
the state in which you still are, I am persuaded
that I shall represent to you what my feelings
were much better, by telling you that they
are things unspeakable, than by attempting a
description of them. For when the point in
question is to represent that which consists in
lively and affecting sensations, there is no other
method left, but actually to produce them in
the breasts of the persons to whom you would
make the communication. In order to pro
duce them, faculties must be found, adapted
to the reception of such sensations. But these
faculties you do not as yet possess. It is there
fore impossible that you should ever compre
hend, while here below, what such sensations
mean. And it is no more in my power to con-*

SER. LXXVII.l

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

207

Tey to you an idea of those which I have en
joyed, than it is to give the deaf an idea of
sounds, or the blind man of colours."

You must be sensible then, my brethren,
that defect in respect of faculties, prevents our
conception of the sensible pleasures which the
blessed above enjoy, as want of taste and want
of genius prevent our comprehending what are
their inclinations, and what is their illumination.
Accordingly, the principal reason of St. Paul's
silence, and of the silence of scripture in gene
ral, respecting the nature of the heavenly
felicity, present nothing that ought to relax
our ardour in the pursuit of it; they are proofs
of its inconceivable greatness, and so far from
sinking its value in our eyes, they manifestly
enhance and aggrandize it. This is what we
undertook to demonstrate.

SERMON LXXVII.

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

PART III.

2 COR. xii. 2—4.

I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago,
(ichether in the body I cannot tell; or whether
out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;)
such an one caught up to the third heaven.
And I knew such a man, (whether in the body,
or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;)
how that he was caught up into paradise., and
heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful
for a man to utter.

WE have endeavoured to elucidate the ex
pressions of our apostle in the text, and to de
monstrate that the silence of Scripture, on the
subject of a state of celestial felicity, suggests
nothing that has a tendency to cool our ardour
in the pursuit of it, but rather, on the contrary,
that this very veil which conceals the paradise
of God from our eyes is, above all things,
calculated to convey the most exalted ideas of
t. We now proceed,

III. To conclude our discourse, by making
come application of the subject.

Now, if the testimony of an apostle, if the
decisions of Scripture, if the arguments which
have been used, if all this is deemed insuffi
cient, and if, notwithstanding our acknowledg
ed inability to describe the heavenly felicity,
you should still insist on our attempting to
convey some idea of it, it is in our power to
present you with one trait of it, a trait of a
singular kind, and which well deserves your
most serious attention. It is a trait which im
mediately refers to the subject under discus
sion: I mean the ardent desire expressed by
St. Paul to return to that felicity, from which
the order of Providence forced him away, to
replace him in the world.

Nothing can convey to us a more exalted
idea of the transfiguration of Jesus Christ,
than the effects which it produced on the soul
of St. Peter. That apostle had scarcely en
joyed a glimpse of the Redeemer's glory on the
holy mount, when, behold, he is transported
at the sight. He has no longer a desire to de
scend from that mountain; he has no longer a
desire to return to Jerusalem; he has forgotten

every thing terrestrial, friends, relations, en
gagements; " Lord, it is good for us to be
here; if thou wilt, let us make here three ta
bernacles," Matt. xvii. 4; and to the extremity
of old age he retains the impression of that
heavenly vision, and exults in the recollection
of it: " He received from God the Father ho
nour and glory, when there came such a voice
to him from the excellent glory. This is my
beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. And
this voice which came from heaven we heard,
when we were with him in the holy mount,"
2 Pet. i. 17, 18.

The idea of the celestial felicity has made a
similarly indelible impression on the mind of
St. Paul. More than fourteen years have
elapsed since he was blessed with the vision of
it. Nay, for fourteen years he has kept silence.
This object, nevertheless, accompanies him
wherever he goes, and, in every situation, his
soul is panting after the restoration of it. And
in what way was he to look for that restora
tion? Not in the way of ecstacy, not in a rap
ture. He was not to be translated to heaven,
as Elijah, in a chariot of fire. Necessity was»
laid upon him of submitting to the law impos
ed on every child of Adam: " It is appointed
to all men once to die," Heb. ix. 27. But no
matter; to that death, the object of terror to all
mankind, he looks forward with fond desire.

But what do I say, that death simply was
the path which St. Paul must tread, to arrive
at the heavenly rest? No, not the ordinary
death of most men; but death violent, prema
ture, death arrayed in all its terror. Nero, the
barbarous Nero, was then upon the throne, and
the blood of a Christian so renowned as our
apostle, must not escape so determined a foe to
Christianity. No matter still. " Let loose all
thy fury against me, ferocious tiger, longing to
glut thyself with Christian blood; I defy thy
worst. Come, executioner of the sanguinary
commands of that monster; I will mount the
scaffold with undaunted resolution; I will sub
mit my head to the fatal blow with intrepidity
and joy." We said, in the opening of this dis
course, Paul, ever since his rapture, talks only
of dying, only of being absent from the body,
only of finishing his course, only of departing.
"We that are in this tabernacle do groan, be
ing burdened: .... willing rather to be ab
sent from the body, and to be present with the
Lord," 2 Cor. v. 4. 8. "Neither count I my
life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my
course with joy, and the ministry which I have
received of the Lord Jesus," Acts xx. 24,
"having a desire to depart, and to be with
Christ, which is far better," Phil. i. 23. We
often find men braving death when at a dis
tance, but shrinking from the nearer approach
of the king of terrors. But the earnestness of
our apostle's wishes is heightened in proportion
as they draw nigh to their centre: when he is
arrived at the departing moment, he triumphs,
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished
my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth
is laid up for me a crown of righteousness,
which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give
me at that day," 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.

My brethren, you are well acquainted with
St. Paul. He was a truly great character
Were we not informed by a special revelation,

208

THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL.

[SER. LXXVIL

that he was inspired by the Spirit of God, we
must ever entertain high ideas of a man, who
had derived his extensive knowledge from the
pure sources of the Jewish dispensation; who
had ennobled his enlarged and capacious mind
by all that is more sublime in Christianity; of
a man, whose heart had always obeyed the dic
tates of his understanding; who opposed Chris
tianity with zeal, so long as he believed Chris
tianity to be false, and who bent the full cur
rent of his zeal to the support of Christianity,
from the moment he became persuaded that it
was an emanation from God.

St. Paul was a man possessed of strong rea
soning powers, and we have in his writings
many monuments which will convey down to
the end of the world the knowledge of his in
tellectual superiority. Nevertheless this man
so enlightened, so sage, so rational; this man
who knew the pleasures of heaven by experi
ence, no longer beholds any thing on the earth
once to be compared with them, or that could
for a moment retard his wishes. He concludes
that celestial joys ought not to be considered
as too dearly purchased, at whatever price it
may have pleased God to rate them, and what
ever it may cost to attain them. I reckon, says
he, I reckon what I suffer, and what I may still
be called to suffer, on the one side; and I reckon,
on the other, the glory of which I have been
a witness, and which I am still to enjoy; " I
reckon, that the sufferings of this present time
are not worthy to be compared with the glory
which shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18.
"Having a desire to depart, and to be with
Christ," Phil. i. 23.

But who is capable of giving an adequate
representation of his transports, so as 'to make
you fee1! them with greater energy, and were it
possible, to transfuse them into your hearts?
Represent to yourself a man, who has actually
seen that glory, of which we can give you only
borrowed ideas. Represent to yourself a man,
who has visited those sacred mansions which
are "in the house of the Father," John xiv. 2;
a man who has seen the palace of the Sove
reign of the universe, and those " thousands," '
those " thousand thousands," which surround
his throne, Dan. vii. 10; a man who has been
in that " new Jerusalem, which corneth down
out of heaven," Rev. iii. 12; in that "new
heaven," and that "new earth," Rev. xxi. 1.
The inhabitants of which are angels, archan
gels, the seraphim; of which the lamb is the sun
and the temple, Rev. xxi. 22, 23, and where
" God is all in all," 1 Cor. xv. 28. Represent
to yourself a man, who has heard those harmo
nious concerts, those triumphant choirs which
sing aloud day and night: " Holy, holy, holy is
the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his
glory," Isa. vi. 3; a man who has heard those
celestial multitudes which cry out, saying,
" Alleluia: salvation, and glory, and honour,

and power, unto the Lord our God and

the four-and-twenty elders reply, saying, Amen;

Alleluia let us be glad and rejoice, for

the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his
wife hath made herself ready," Rev. xix. 1. 4.
7. Represent to yourself a man who has been
received into heaven by those angels who " re
joice over one sinner that repenteth," Luke xv.
1, and who redouble their acclamations when

he is admitted into the bosom of glory; or, to
say somewhat which has a still nearer relation
to the idea which we ought to conceive of St.
Paul, represent to yourself a man " bearing in
his body the marks of the Lord Jesus," Gal.
vi. 17, and beholding that Jesus in the bosom
of the Father: represent to yourself that man
giving way to unrestrained effusions of love,
embracing his Saviour, clinging to his feet,
passing, in such sacred transports of delight, a
time which glides away, undoubtedly, with ra
pidity of which we have no conception, and
which enables the soul to comprehend how,
in the enjoyment of perfect bliss, a thousand
years fly away with the velocity of one day:
represent to yourself that man suddenly recall
ed to this valley of tears, beholding that " third
heaven," those archangels, that God, that
Jesus, all, all disappearing; Ah, my brethren,
what regret must such a man have felt! What
holy impatience to recover the vision of all
those magnificent objects! What is become of
so much felicity, of so much glory! Was I made
to possess them, then, only to have the pain of
losing them again! Did God indulge me with
the beatific vision only to give me a deeper
sense of my misery! O moment too fleeting and
transitory, and have you fled never to be recall
ed! Raptures, transports, ecstacies, have ye
left me for ever! " My father, my father, the
chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof," 2
Kings ii. 12. "As the hart panteth after the
water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O
God: my soul thirsteth for God, for the Jiving
God: when shall I come and appear before
God?" Ps. xlii. 1, 2. "How amiable are thy
tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth,
yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord:
my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living
God. . . . Blessed are they that dwell in thy
house; they will be still praising thee! thine
altars, thine altars, O Lord of hosts, rny King,
and my God!" Ps. Ixxxiv. 1, &c.

My God, wherefore enjoy we not at this day
such privileges, that we also might be filled
with such sentiments! Boundless abysses, which
separate between heaven and earth, why are ye
not, for a season, filled up to us, as ye were to
this apostle! Ye torrents of endless delight,
wherefore roll ye not to us, some of your pre
cious rills, that they may teach us a holy con
tempt for those treacherous joys which deceive
and ensnare us!

My brethren, if ceasing from the desire of
manifestations which we have not, we could
learn to avail ourselves of those which God
has been pleased to bestow! were we but dis
posed to listen to the information which the
Scriptures communicate, respecting the hea
venly felicity: If we would but examine the
proofs, the demonstrations which we have of
eternal blessedness! If we but knew how to
feed on those ideas, and frequently to oppose
them to those voids, to those nothings, which
are the great object of our pursuit! If we
would but compare them with the excellent
nature of our souls, and with the dignity of our
origin! then we should become like St. Paul.
Then nothing would be able to damp our zeal.
The end of the course would then employ every
wish, every desire of the heart. Then no dex
terity of management would be needful to in

SER. LXXVIIL]

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

209

troduce a discourse on the subject of death.
Then we should rejoice in those who might say
to us, " Let us go up to Jerusalem." Then we
should reply, " our feet shall stand within thy
gates, O Jerusalem!" Ps. cxxii. 2. Then we
should see that fervour, that zeal, that trans
ports, are the virtues, and the attainment of
the dying.

You would wish to be partakers of St. Paul's
rapture to the third heaven, but if this privilege
be denied you to its full extent, nothing forbids
your aspiring after one part of it at least.
When was it that St. Paul was caught up into
paradise? You have been told; it was when en
gaged in prayer. " While I prayed in the tem
ple," says he, " I was in a trance," Acts xxii.
17. The word trance or ecstacy is of indeter
minate meaning. A man in an ecstacy is one
whose soul is so entirely devoted to an object,
that he is, in some sense, out of his own body,
and no longer perceives what passes in it. Per
sons addicted to scientific research, have been
known so entirely absorbed in thought, as to be
in a manner insensible during those moments
of intense application. Ecstacy in religion, is
that undivided attention which attaches the
mind to heavenly objects. If any thing is ca
pable of producing this effect, it is prayer. It
is by no means astonishing that a man who has
" entered into his closet, and shut the door,"
Matt. vi. 6, who has excluded the world, has lost
sight of every terrestrial object, whose soul is
concentrated and lost in God, if I may use the
expression, that such a man should be so pene
trated with admiration, with love, with hope,
with joy , as to become like one rapt in an ecstacy.

But farther. It is in the exercise of prayer
that God is pleased to communicate himself to
us in the most intimate manner. It is in the
exercise of prayer, that he unites himself to
us in the tenderest manner. It is in the ex
ercise of prayer, that distinguished saints ob
tain those signal marks of favour, which are
the object of our most ardent desire. A man
who prays; a man whose prayer is employed
about detachment from sensible things; a man
who blushes, in secret, at the thought of being
so swallowed up of sensible things, and so little
enamoured of divine excellencies; a man who
asks of God, to be blessed with a glimpse of
his glory, with a foretaste of the felicity laid
up in store for him, and that he would fortify
his soul against the difficulties and dangers of
his career; such a man may expect to be, as it
were, rapt in an ecstacy, either by the natural
effect of prayer, or by the extraordinary com
munications which God is pleased to vouchsafe
to those who call upon his name.

From this source proceeds that earnest long
ing "to depart," such as Paul expressed: hence
that delightful recollection of the pleasure en
joyed in those devout exercises, pleasure that
has rendered the soul insensible to the empty
delights of this world; hence the idea of those
blessed moments which occupy the mind for
fourteen years together, and which produces,
at the hour of death, a fervour not liable to
suspicion: for, my brethren, there is a fervour
which I am disposed to suspect. I acknow
ledge, that when I see a man who has all his
life long stagnated in the world, affecting in
the hour of death, to assume the language of
VOL. II.— -27

eminent saints, and to say, " I have a desire to
depart: my soul thirsteth for God, for the living
God;" becoming all at once a seraph, burning
with zeal; I acknowledge myself to be always
under an apprehension, that this zeal derives its
birth from some mechanical play, or to the un
accountable duty which the sick impose upon
themselves, even such of them as are most
steadily attached to the earth, of declaring that
they feel an earnest desire to leave it. But a
man who, through life, has been busied about
eternity, whose leading aim was to secure a
happy eternity, who has, as it were, anticipated
the pleasures of eternity, by habits of devotion;
a man who has been absorbed of those ideas,
who has fed upon them; a man who having de
voted a whole life to those sacred employments,
observes the approach of death with joy, meets
it with ardent desire, zeal, transport, such a
man displays nothing to excite suspicion.

And is not such a state worthy of being en
vied? This is the manner of death which I
ask of thee, O my God, when, after having
served thee in the sanctuary, like the high
priest of old, thou shaltbe pleased, of thy great
mercy, to admit me into the holy of holies.
This is the manner of death which I wish to
all of you, my beloved hearers. God grant
that each of you may be enabled powerfully
to inculcate upon his own mind, this great
principle of religion, that there is a third hea
ven, a paradise, a world of bliss over our heads!
God grant that each of you may attain the
lively persuasion, that this is the only desirable
felicity, the only felicity worthy of God to be
stow, and of man to receive! God grant that
each of you, in meditation, in prayer, in those
happy moments of the Christian life in which
God communicates himself so intimately to
his creatures, may enjoy the foretastes of
that felicity; and thus, instead of fearing that
death which is to put you in possession of so
many blessings, you may contemplate it with
holy joy and say, " this is the auspicious mo
ment which I have so long wished for, which
my soul has been panting after, which has
been the burden of so many fervent prayers:
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in
peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."
May God in mercy grant it to us all. To him
be honour and glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXVIIL

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.*

PART I.

PSALM xc. 12.

So teach us to number our days, that we may ap
ply our hearts unto wisdom.
THROUGH what favour of indulgent heaven
does this church nourish in its bosom members
sufficient to furnish out the solemnity of this
day, and to compose an assembly so numerous
and respectable? Through what distinguish
ing goodness is it, that you find yourselves
with your children, with your friends, with

* Delirered in the church of Rotterdam, on New
Year's day, 1727,

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

. LXXVIII.

your fellow-citizens; no, not all of them, for
the mourning weeds in which some of you are
clothed, plainly indicate, that death has robbed
us, in part of them, in the course of the year
which is just terminated. But through what
distinguishing goodness is that you find your
selves, with your children, with your friends,
with your fellow-citizens, collected together in
this sacred place?

The preachers who filled the spot which I
have now the honour to occupy, and whose
voice resounded through this temple at the
commencement of the last year, derived, from
the inexhaustible fund of human frailty and
infirmity, motives upon motives to excite ap
prehension that you might not behold the end
of it. They represented to you the fragility
of the organs of your body, which the slightest
shock is able to derange and to destroy: the
dismal accidents by which the life of man is
incessantly threatened; the maladies, without
number, which are either entailed on us by
the law of our nature, or which are the fruit
of our intemperance; the uncertainty of hu
man existence, and the narrow bounds to which
life, at the longest, is contracted.

After having filled their mouths with argu
ments drawn from the stores of nature, they
had recourse to those of religion. They spake
to you of the limited extent of the patience
and long suffering of God. They told you,
that to each of us is assigned only a certain
number of days of visitation. They thundered
in your ears such warnings as these: " Gather
yourselves together, yea gather together, O na
tion not desired; before the decree bring forth

before the fierce anger of the Lord

come upon you," Zeph. ii. 1, 2. " I will set
a plumb line in the midst of my people: I will
not again pass by them any more," Amos vii.
8. "Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be
overthrown: yet forty days and Nineveh shall
be overthrown," Jonah iii. 4.

How is it possible that we should have es
caped, at the same time, the miseries of nature,
and the fearful threatenings of religion? And\
to repeat my question once more, through
what favour of indulgent heaven does this
church nourish in its bosom members sufficient
to furnish out the solemnity of this day, and
to compose an assembly so numerous and re
spectable?

It is to be presumed, my brethren, that the
principle which has prevented our improve
ment of the innumerable benefits with which
a gracious Providence is loading us, prevents
not our knowledge of the source from which
they flow. It is to be presumed, that the first
emotions of our hearts, when we, this morning,
opened our eyes to behold the light, have been
such as formerly animated holy men of God,
when they cried aloud, amidst the residue of
those whom the love of God had delivered
from the plagues inflicted by his justice, in the
days of vengeance: " It is of the Lord's mer
cies that we are not consumed, because his
compassions fail not: they are new every morn
ing," Lam. iii. 22, 23. "Except the Lord of
hosts had left unto us a very small remnant,
we should have been as Sodom, and we should
have been like unto Gomorrah," Isa. i. 9.

Wo! wo! Anathema upon anathema! be to

him who shall dare henceforth to abuse . . .
But no, let us not fulminate curses. Let not
sounds so dreadful affright the ears of an au
dience like this. Let us adopt a language
more congenial to the present day. We come
to beseech you, my beloved brethren, by those
very mercies of God to which you are indebt
ed for exemption from so many evils, and for
the enjoyment of so many blessings: by those
very mercies which have this day opened for
your admission, the gates of this temple, in
stead of sending you down into the prison of
the tomb; by those very mercies, by which you
were, within these few days, invited to the
table of the Eucharist, instead of being sum
moned to the tribunal of judgment; by these
tender mercies we beseech you to assume sen
timents, and to form plans of conduct, which
may have something like a correspondence to
what God has been pleased to do in your
behalf.

And thou, God Almighty, the Sovereign,
the Searcher of all hearts! thou who movest
and directest them which ever way thou wilt!
vouchsafe, Almighty God, to open to us the
hearts of all this assembly, that they may yield
to the entreaties which we address to them in
thy name, as thou hast been thyself propitious
to the prayers which they have presented to
thee. Thou hast reduced " the measure of
our days to an hand breadth:" Ps. xxxix. 5,
and the meanest of our natural faculties is
sufficient to make the enumeration of them:
but " so to number our days, as that we may
apply our hearts unto wisdom," we cannot suc
cessfully attempt without thy all-powerful aid
— " Lord, so teach us to number our days,
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."
Amen.

In order to a clear comprehension of the
words of my text, it would be necessary for
me to have it in my power precisely to indi
cate who is the author of them, and on what
occasion they were composed. The psalm,
from which they are taken, bears this inscrip
tion, " A prayer of Moses, the man of God."
But who was this Moses? And on the sup
position that the great legislator of the Jews
is the person meant, did he actually compose
it? or do the words of the superscription, " A
prayer of Moses, the man of God," amount
only to this, that some one has imitated his
style, and, in some measure, caught his spirit,
in this composition? This is a point not easily
to be decided, and which indeed does not admit
of complete demonstration. The opinion most
venerable from its antiquity, and the most ge
nerally adopted, is, that this psalm was com
posed by the Jewish lawgiver, at one of the
most melancholy conjunctures of his life; when
after the murmuring of the Israelites, on occa
sion of the report of the spies, God pronounc
ed this tremendous decree: " As truly as I live,
all the earth shall be filled with the glory of
the Lord .... your carcasses shall fall in
this wilderness; and all that were numbered of
you, according to your whole number ....
shall not come into the land, concerning which
I sware to make you dwell therein," Num.
xiv. 21. 29, 30.

If this conjecture be as well founded as it
is probable, the prayer under review is the pro-

SER. LXXVIIL]

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

21.

duction of a heart as deeply affected with grief,
as it is possible to be without sinking into des
pair. Never did Moses feel himself reduced
to such a dreadful extremity, as at this fatal
period. It appeared as if there had been a
concert between God and Israel to put his
constancy to the last trial. On the one hand,
the Israelites wanted to make him responsible
for all that was rough and displeasing in the
paths through which God was pleased to lead
them; and it seemed as if God, on the other
hand, would likewise hold him responsible for
the complicated rebellions of Israel.

Moses opposes to this just displeasure of
God a buckler which he had often employed
with success, namely, prayer. That which he
put up on this occasion, was one of the most
fervent that can be imagined. But there are
situations in which all the fervour, of even the
most powerful intercessor, is wholly unavail
ing. There are seasons, when, " though Moses
and Samuel stood up before God," Jer. xvi. 1,
to request him to spare a nation, the measure
of whose iniquity was come to the full, they
would request in vain. In such a situation
was Moses now placed. Represent to your
selves the deplorable condition of the Israelites,
and the feelings of that man, whose leading
character was meekness; and who, if we may
be allowed the expression, carried that rebel
lious people in the tenderest and most sensible
part of his soul: to be excluded from all hope
beyond thirty or forty years of life, and to be
condemned to pass these in a desert; what a
fearful destiny!

What course does Moses take? Dismissed,
so to speak, banished from the throne of grace,
does he however give all up for lost? No,
my brethren. He was unable by entreaty to
procure a revocation of the sentence pronoun
ced against persons so very dear to him, he
limits himself to imploring, in their behalf,
wisdom to make a proper use of it. " Thou
hast sworn it, great God; and the oath, which
thy adorable lips have pronounced against us,
can never be recalled. Thou hast sworn that
none of us, who came out of Egypt, shall enter
into that land, the object of all our hopes and
prayers. Thou hast sworn that die we must,
after having lingered out for forty years, a
miserable existence in this wilderness, a habita
tion fitter for ferocious beasts of prey, than for
reasonable creatures, than for men whom thou
hast chosen, and called thy people. The sighs
which my soul has breathed to heaven for a
remission are unavailing; the tears which I
have shed in thy bosom, have been shed in
vain; these hands, once powerful to the combat,
these hands which were stronger than thee in
battle, these hands against which thou couldst
not hold out, which made thee say, " let me
alone, that my wrath may wax hot against
them, and that I may consume them," Exod.
xxxii. 10; these hands have lost the blessed art
of prevailing with God in the conflict! Well,
be it so. Let us die, great God, seeing it is
thy sovereign will! Let us serve as victims to
thy too just indignation; reduce our life to the
shortest standard. But at least, since we had
not the wisdom to avail ourselves of the pro
mises of a long and happy life, teach us to
live as becomes persons who are to die so soon.

Lord, so teach us to number our days, that
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

This is a general idea of the end which our
text has in view. But let us enter somewhat
more deeply into this interesting subject. Let
us make application of it to our own life, which
bears a resemblance so striking to that which
the children of Israel were doomed to pass in
the wilderness. We are to inquire,

I. What is implied in numbering our days.

II. What are the conclusions which wisdom
deduces from that enumeration.

I. In order to make a just estimate of our
days, let us reckon, 1. Those days, or divisions
of time, in which we feel neither good nor
evil, neither joy nor grief, and in which we
practise neither virtue nor vice, and which,
for this reason, I call days of nothingness; let
us reckon these, and compare them with the
days of reality. 2. Let us reckon the days of
adversity, and compare them with the days of
prosperity. 3. Let us reckon the days of lan
guor and weariness, and compare them with
the days of delight and pleasure. 4. Let us
reckon the days which we have devoted to the
world, and compare them with the days which
we have devoted to religion. 5. Finally, let
us calculate the amount of the whole, that we
may discover how long the duration is of a life
consisting of days of nothingness and of reality;
of days of prosperity and of adversity; of days
of pleasure and of languor; of days devoted to
the world, and to the salvation of the soul.

1. Let us reckon the days of nothingness,
and compare them with the days of reality.
I give the appellation of days of nothingness to
all that portion of our life in which, as I said,
we feel neither good nor evil, neither joy nor
grief; in which we practise neither virtue nor
vice, and which is a mere nothing with respect
to us.

In this class must be ranked, all those hours
which human infirmity lays us under the ne
cessity of passing in sleep, and which run away
with the third part of our life: time, during
which we are stretched in a species of tomb,
and undergo, as it were, an anticipated death.
Happy at the same time in being able, in a
death not immediately followed by the judg
ment of God, to bury, in some measure, our
troubles, together with our life!

In this class must be farther ranked, those
seasons of inaction, and of distraction, in which
all the faculties of our souls are suspended,
during which we propose no kind of object to
thought, during which we cease, in some sense,
to be thinking beings; seasons which afford an
objection of no easy solution, to the opinion
of those who maintain that actual thought
is essential to mind; and that from this very
consideration, that it subsists, it must actually
think.

In this class must be farther ranked, all those
portions of time which are a burden to us; not
because we are under the pressure of some ca
lamity, for this will fall to be considered under
another head, but because they form, if I may
say so, a wall between us and certain events,
which we ardently wish to attain. Such as
when we are in a state of uncertainty respect
ing certain questions, in which we feel our
selves deeply interested, but which must re

212

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

[SER. LXXVIIL

main undecided for some days, for some months,
for some years. We could wish to suppress
all those intervals of our existence, were God
to put it in our power. Thus, a child wishes
to attain in a moment, the age of youth; the
young man would hasten at once into the con
dition of the master of a family; and some
times the fcther of a family would rush for
ward to the period when he should see the be
loved objects of his affection settled in the
world: and so of other cases.

In this class we may still rank certain sea
sons of preparation and design: such as the
time which we spend in dressing and undress
ing upon the road, and in other similar occu
pations, insipid and useless in themselves, and
to which no importance attaches, but in so far
as they are the means necessary of attaining an
object more interesting than themselves.

Reckon, if you can, what is the amount of
this first class of our days; compare them with
what we have called days of reality. Who
ever will take the trouble to make such a cal
culation with any degree of exactness, must
be constrained to acknowledge, that a man
who says he has lived threescore years, has
not lived twenty complete: because, though
he has in truth passed threescore years in the
world, forty of these stole away in listlessness
and inaction, and during this period, he was as
if he had not been. This is the first enumera
tion, the enumeration of days of nothingness
compared with days of reality.

2. Let us reckon the days of adversity, and
compare them with the days of prosperity. To
what a scanty measure would human life be
reduced, were we to subtract from it those
seasons of bitterness of soul which God seems
to have appointed to us, rather to furnish an
exercise to our patience, than to make us taste
the pleasures of living.

What is life to a man, who feels himself
condemned to live in a state of perpetual sepa
ration from persons who are dear to him? Col
lect into one and the same house, honours,
riches, dignities; let the tables be loaded with
a profusion of dainties; display the most mag
nificent furniture; let all that is exquisite in
music be provided; let every human delight
contribute its aid: all that is necessary to render
all these insipid and disgusting, is the absence
of one beloved object, say a darling child.

What is life to a man who has become infa
mous, to a man who is execrated by his fellow-
creatures, who dares not appear in public, lest
his ears should be stunned with the voice of
malediction, thundering in every direction
upon his head?

What is life to a man deprived of health; a
man delivered over to the physicians; a man
reduced to exist mechanically, who is nourished
by merely studied aliments, who digests only
according to the rules of art, who is able to
support a dying life only by the application
of remedies still more disgusting than the very
maladies which they are called in to relieve?

What is life to a man arrived at the age of
decrepitude, who feels his faculties decaying
day by day, when he perceives himself be
coming an object of pity and forbearance to all
around him, or rather becoming absolutely in
supportable to every one; when he imagines

he hears himself continually reproached with
being an incumbrance on the face of the earth,
and that he is occupying, too long, a place
which he ought to resign to one who might be
more useful to society?

But this is not the worst of the case. No
thing more is necessary, in many cases, than
a whim, a mere chimera, to disturb the hap
piest and most splendid condition of human
life.

Now, in which of our days shall we find
those pure joys, which no infusion of bitterness
has poisoned? In which of our days is it possi
ble for us to behold the perfect harmony of
glory in the state of triumph in the church,
of vigorous health, of prosperous fortune, of
domestic peace, of mental tranquillity? In
which of the days of our life did this concur
rence of felicities permit us to consider our
selves as really happy?

Farther, if, in the ordinary current of our
days, we had been deprived of only a few of
the good things of life, while we possessed all
the rest, the great number of those which we
enjoyed, might minister consolation under the
want of those which Providence had been
pleased to withhold. But how often would
an almost total destitution of good, and an ac
cumulation of wo, render life insupportable,
did not submission to the will of God, or ra
ther, did not divine aid enable us to bear the
ills of life?

Shall I have your permission, my brethren,
to go into a detail of particulars on this head?
For my own part, who have been in this world
during a period not much longer than that
which the children of Israel passed in the wil
derness; I have scarcely heard any thing else
spoken of, except disasters, desolations, de
structive revolutions. Scarcely had I begun
to know this church, into which I had been
admitted in baptism, when I was doomed to be
the melancholy spectator of the most calami
tous events which can be presented to the eyes,
or the imagination of man. Have you forgot
ten them, my dear compatriots, my beloved
companions in affliction, have you forgotten
those days of darkness? Have you forgotten
those cries of the children of Edom: " Rase it,
rase it, even to the foundation thereof!" Ps.
cxxxvii. 7. Have you forgotten those dead
bodies of our brethren, "given to be meat unto
the fowls of heaven, the flesh of the saints unto
the beasts of the earth; their blood shed like
water round about Jerusalem, and none to
bury them?" Ps. Ixxix. 2, 3.

In order to escape calamities so many and so
grievous, we were reduced to the necessity of
fleeing from the place of our birth. We were
constrained to drag about, from place to place,
a miserable life, empoisoned by the fatal shafts
which had pierced us. We were constrained
to present objects of compassion, but often im
portunately troublesome, to the nations whither
we fled in quest of a place of refuge. We were
reduced to the misery of being incessantly
aaunted with the apprehension of failing in the
supplies necessary to the most pressing de
mands of life, and to those of education, as
dear as even the support of life.

Scarcely did we find ourselves under covert
irom the tempest, when we felt that we were

SER. LXXVIII.]

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

213

still exposed to it, in the persons of those with
whom we were united in the tenderest bonds.
" One post run to meet another, and one mes
senger to meet another:" to adopt the prophet's
expression, Jer. li. 31, to announce dismal ti
dings. Sometimes the message bore, that a
house had been recently demolished: some
times that a church had just been sapped to
the foundation: sometimes we heard the af
fecting history of an undaunted believer, but
whose intrepidity had exposed him to the most
cruel torments; at another time, it was of a
faint-hearted Christian whom timidity had be
trayed into apostacy, a thousand times more to
be deplored than tortures and death in their
most horrid form.

Received into countries whose charity ex
tended their arms to embrace us, it seemed as
if we carried, wherever we went, a part of
those disasters from which we were striving to
make our escape. For these forty years past,
my brethren, what repose has Protestant Eu
rope enjoyed? One war has succeeded to ano
ther war, one plague to another plague, one
abyss to another abyss. And God knows, God
only knows, whether the calamities which
have for some time pressed these states around
on every side; God only knows, whether or
not they are to be but the beginning of sor
rows! God only knows what may be prepar
ing for us by that avenging arm which is ever
lifted up against us, and that flaming sword,
whose tremendous glare is incessantly daz
zling our eyes! God only knows how long our
bulwarks against the ocean may be able to
withstand those formidable shocks, and those
violent storms, which an insulted God is ex
citing to shatter them! God knows

But let us not presume to draw aside the veil
under which Providence has been pleased to
conceal the destiny of these provinces from our
eyes. It is abundantly evident, that were we
to subtract from the number of our days, those
heavy periods of existence, when we live only
to suffer; were we to reckon the days of pros
perity alone, our life would be reduced to an
imperceptible duration; we should not disco
ver any exaggeration in the expressions which
Moses employs to trace the image of the life of
the Israelites in the preceding context: " Thou
turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Re
turn, ye children of men: thou earnest them
away as with a flood: they are as asleep: in
the morning they are like grass which grow-
eth up: in the morning it flourisheth, and
groweth up; in the evening it is cut down and
withered."

3. Let us reckon the days of languor and
weariness, and compare them with the days of
delight and pleasure. This particular must not
be confounded with the preceding. There is a
wide difference between the days which we
have called those of adversity, and which we,
under this head, call days of languor and weari
ness. By days of adversity, we meant those
seasons of life, in which the privation of some
worldly good, and the concurrence of many
evils, render us actually miserable. By days of I
languor and weariness we now mean those in I
which exemption from the ills of life, or the
possession of its good things, leaves the mind
void and dissatisfied. >

Let each of us here recollect the history of
his own life. How often has a man found him
self a prey to languor and disgust in the midst
of those very pleasures of life which he had
conceived to be the most lively and affecting?
Objects in which we generally take the great
est delight, sometimes depress us into the most
intolerable languor. It is frequently sufficient
for exciting distaste in us to an object, that we
once doated on it; to such a degree is the will
of man capricious, fluctuating, and inconstant.
Parties of pleasure are sometimes proposed and
formed; the place, the time, the company, eve
ry thing is settled with the most solicitous
anxiety; the hour is looked to with eager im
patience, and nothing less is found than what
the fond imagination had promised to itself. It
is a mere phantom, which had an appearance
of solidity, when viewed at a distance; we ap
proach, we embrace it, and lo! it melts away
into air, " thin air."

The believer whose taste is purified, is un
doubtedly better acquainted with this languor,
when, amidst the pleasures of this world, there
occurs to his mind one- or another of the re
flections which have been suggested, respect
ing the vanity of all human things; when he
says to himself, " Not one in this social circle,
among whom I am partaking of so many de
lights, but would basely abandon me, if I stood
in need of his assistance, did the happiness of
my life impose on him the sacrifice of one of
the dishes of his table, of one of the horses of
his equipage, of one of the trees of his gar
dens." When stating a comparison between
the tide of pleasure into which he was going to
plunge, and those which religion has procured
him, he thus reflects: " This is not the joy
which I taste, when alone with my God, I
pour out before him a soul inflamed to rapture
with his love, and when I collect, in rich pro
fusion, the tokens of his grace." When com
ing to perceive that he has indulged rather too
far in social mirth, which is lawful only when
restrained within certain bounds, he says with
in himself, " Are such objects worthy of the
regard of an immortal soul? are these my di
vinities?" Then it is he feels himself oppressed
with languor and disgust; then it is that ob
jects, once so eagerly desired, are regarded
with coldness or aversion. Hence that seri
ousness which overspreads his countenance,
hence that pensive silence into which he falls,
in spite of every effort to the contrary, hence
certain gloomy reflections which involuntarily
arise in his soul.

But this languor is not peculiar to those
whose taste piety has refined. There is a re
markable difference, however, in this respect,
between the men of the world, and believers;
namely, that the disgust, which these last feel
in the pleasures of life, engages them in the
pursuit of purer joys, in exercises of devotion;
whereas the others give up the pursuit of one
worldly delight, only to hunt after a new one,
equally empty and unsatisfying with that which
they had renounced. From that scanty por
tion of life, in which we enjoy prosperity, we
must go on to subtract that other portion, in
which prosperity is insipid to us. Calculate,
if you can, the poor amount of what remains
after this subtraction.

214

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

[SER. LXXVIH

4. Lot us reckon the days which we have
devoted to the world, and compare them with
those which we have devoted to religion. Hu
miliating computation! But I take it for grant
ed, that in your present circumstances, it has
been rendered familiar to your thoughts.
Christians who have been just concluding the
year with a participation of the holy ordinance
of the Lord's Supper, could hardly fail to have
put this question to their consciences, when
employed in self-examination, preparatory to
that solemn service: What proportion of my
time has been given to God? What proportion of
it has been given to the world? And it is suffi
cient barely to propose the discussion of these
questions, to come to this melancholy conclu
sion: That the portion of our life, which alone
deserves to be considered as containing some
thing solid and substantial, I mean the por
tion which has been given to God, is of a du
ration so short as to be almost imperceptible
when compared with the years which the work
has engrossed.

5. I proceed to the last computation pro
posed. What is the amount of this total of
human life which we have thus arranged in
different columns? What is the sum of this
compound account of days of nothingness and
days of reality; of days of prosperity and days
of affliction; of days of languor and days oJ
delight; of days devoted to the world, and
days devoted to religion? My brethren, it is
God, it is God alone, who holds our times in
his hand, to adopt the idea of the prophet, Ps.
xxxi. 15; he alone can make an accurate cal
culation of them. And as he alone has fixed
the term of our life, he only is likewise capable
of knowing it. It is not absolutely impossible,
however, to ascertain what shall be, in respect
of time, the temporal destination of those who
hear me this day. Let me suppose that the
present solemnity has drawn together an as
sembly of eighteen hundred persons. I sub
divide these 1800 into six different classes.

The 1st consisting of persons from 10 to 20
years of age, amounting to ... 530
2d from 20 to 30 amounting to . 440

different scenery, a new decoration. I repre
sent these vicissitudes to myself, under the em
blem of what is felt by a man who is employed
in turning over the pages of history. He
pores over his book, he beholds on this leaf,
one people, one king; he turns it, and lo,
other laws, other maxims, other actors, which
have no manner of relation to what preceded
them!

SERMON LXXVIII.

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

PART II.

3d
4th
5th
6th

30 to 40
40 to 50
50 to 60
60 and upwards

345

255

160

70

1800

According to the most exact calculation of
those who have made such kind of researches
their study, each of these classes must, in the
course of this year, present to death, a tribute
of ten persons. On this computation, sixty of
my present hearers must, before the beginning
of another year, be numbered with the dead.
Conformably to the same rate of computation,
in 10 years, of the 1800 now present there
will remain ....... 1270

In 20 years, only 830

In 30 480

In 40 ..,.,. 230

In 50 years, no more will be left than 70
Thus you see, my brethren, in what a per
petual flux the human race is. The world is
a vast theatre, in which every one appears his
moment upon the stage, and in a moment d^-
appears. Every successive instant presents

PSALM xc. 12.
So teach us to number our days, that we may ap
ply our hearts unto wisdom.

WE have seen to what a measure human
life is reduced. To be made sensible of this
is a very high attainment in knowledge; but
it is of still higher importance, thence to de
duce conclusions, which have a tendency to re
gulate the workings of your mind, the emo
tions of your heart, the conduct of your life:
and to assist you in this, is

II. The second object which we proposed to
ourselves in this discourse. This is what the
prophet asks of God in the text, this we would
earnestly implore in your behalf, and this
prayer we wish you to adopt for yourselves:
" Lord, so teach us to number our days, that
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

1. The first conclusion deducible from the
representation given, is this: the vanity of the
life which now is, affords the clearest proof of
the life to come. This proof is sensible, and it
possesses two advantages over all those which
philosophy supplies, towards demonstrating
the immortality of the soul. The proof of our
immortality, taken from the spirituality of the
soul, has, perhaps, a great deal of solidity; but
it is neither so sensible, nor so incontestable. I
am lost when I attempt to carry my metaphy
sical speculations into the interior of substan
ces. I do not well know what to reply to an
opponent who presses me with such questions
as these: " Do you know every thing that a
substance is capable of? Are your intellectual
powers such as to qualify you to pronounce
this decision, Such a substance is capable only
of this, and such another only of that." This
difficulty, at least, always recurs, namely, that
a soul, spiritual and immortal of its own na
ture, may be deprived of immortality, should
t please that God who called it into existence,
to reduce it to a state of annihilation.

But the proof which we have alleged is sen
sible, it is incontestable. I can make the force
of it to be felt by a peasant, by an artisan, by
the dullest of human beings. And I am bold
enough to bid defiance to the acutest genius,
;o the most dexterous sophist, to advance any
;hing that deserves the name of reasoning in
contradiction to it. How! Is it possible that
his soul, capable of reflecting, of reasoning, of
aying down principles, of deducing conse
quences, of knowing its Creator, and of serv-
ng him, should have been created for the pur-

SER. LXXVIIL]

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

215

pose merely of acting the poor part which man
fills on the earth? How! the souls of those
myriads of infants, who die before they are
born, to be annihilated, after having animated,
for a few months, an embryo, a mass of unfi
nished organs, which nature did not deign to
carry on to perfection? How! the Abrahams,
the Moseses, the Davids, and the multitudes
of those other holy men, to whom God made
so many and such gracious promises, shall they
cease to be, after having been "strangers and
pilgrims upon the earth?" How! that " cloud of
witnesses," who, rather than deny the truth,
submitted to be "stoned," to be " sawn asun
der," to be " tempted," to be "slain with the
sword," who " wandered about in sheep-skins,
and goat-skins, being destitute, afflicted, tor
mented?" Heb. xi. 13. 37. How! that "cloud
of witnesses" evaporate into smoke, and the
souls of martyrs pass into annihilation amidst
the tortures inflicted by an executioner! Ye
confessors of Jesus Christ, who have borne his
reproach for thirty years together, who have
yielded up your back to the rod of a tormentor,
who have lived a life more painful than death
in its most horrid form! You to have no other
reward of all your labours and sufferings, ex
cept those poor gratuities which man bestows
after you have finished your career? How!
those noble faculties of soul bestowed on man,
merely to sit for a few years upon a tribunal,
for a few years to dip into arts and sciences?
. . . What brain could digest the thought!
What subtility of metaphysical research, what
ingeniousness of sophistry, can enfeeble the
proof derived from such appearances as these!
O brevity of the present economy! O vanity
of human life! O miseries upon miseries with
which my days are depressed, distracted, em
poisoned, I will complain of you no longer! I
behold light the most cheering; the most trans
porting, ready to burst forth from the bosom
of that gloomy night, into which you have
plunged me! You conduct me to the grand,
the animating doctrine of immortality! The
vanity of the present life, is the proof of the
life which is to come. This is our first con
clusion.

2. The second conclusion we deduce is this:
neither the good things, nor the evil, of a life
which passes away with so much rapidity,
ought to make a very deep impression on a
soul whose duration is eternal. Do not tax
me of extravagance. I have no intention to
preach a hyperbolical morality, I do not mean
to maintain such a wild position as this, " That
there is no reality in either the enjoyments or
the distresses of life; that there is a mixture
in every human condition, which reduces all
to equality; that the man who sits at a plenti
ful table is not a whit happier than the man
who begs his bread." This is not our gospel.
Temporal evils are unquestionably real. Were
this life of very long duration, I would deem
the condition of the rich man incomparably

preferable to that of the poor; that of the man
who commands, to that of him who obeys;
that of one who enjoys perfect health, to that
of one who is stretched on a bed of languish
ing. But however real the enjoyments and
the distresses of life may be in themselves,
their transient duration invalidates that reality.

You, who have passed thirty years in affliction!
there are thirty years of painful existence va
nished away. You, whose woes have been
lengthened out to forty years! there are forty
years of a life of sorrow vanished away. And
you, who, for these thirty, forty, fifty years
past, have been living at ease, and drowned in
pleasure! What is become of those years?
The time which both the one and the other
has yet to live, is scarcely worth the reckoning,
and is flying away with the same rapidity. If
the brevity of life does not render all condi
tions equal, it fills up, at least, the greatest
part of that abyss which cupidity had placed
between them. Let us reform our ideas; let
us correct our style: do not let us call a man
happy because he is in health; do not let us
call a sick man miserable: let us not call that
absolute felicity, which is only borrowed, tran
sitory, ready to flee away with life itself. Im
mortal beings ought to make immortality the
standard by which to regulate their ideas of
happiness and misery. Neither the good things,
nor the evil, of a life so transient, ought to
make a very deep impression on a soul whose
duration is eternal. This was our second con
clusion.

3. But if I be immortal, what have I to do
among the dying? If I be destined to a never-
ending duration, wherefore am I doomed to
drag out a miserable life upon the earth? If
the blessings and the miseries of this life are
so disproportionate to my natural greatness,
wherefore have they been given to me?
Wherefore does the Creator take a kind of
pleasure in laying snares for my innocence, by
presenting to me delights which may become
the source of everlasting misery; and by con
ducting me to eternal felicity, through the
sacrifice of every present comfort? This dif
ficulty, my brethren, this pressing difficulty
leads us to

A third conclusion: this life is a season of
probation, assigned to us for the purpose of
making our choice between everlasting happi
ness or misery. This life, considered as it is
in itself, is an object of contempt. We may
say of it, with the sacred writer, that it is " a
shadow which passeth away;" " a vanity,"
which has nothing real and solid; " a flower
which fadeth;" " grass" which withers and is
cut down; "a vapour" which dissolves into
air; " a dream" which leaves no trace after the
sleep is gone; " a thought" which presents it
self to the mind, but abides not; " an appari
tion, a nothing" before God.

But when we contemplate this life, in its re
lation to the great end which God proposes to
himself in bestowing it upon us, let us form
exalted ideas of it. Let us carefully compute
all its subdivisions; let us husband, with scru
pulous attention, all the instants of it, even the
most minute and imperceptible; let us regret
the precious moments which we have irreco
verably lost. For this shadow which passes,
this vanity which has nothing real and solid,
this flower which fades, this grass which is cut
down and withers, this vapour which melts into
air, this forgotten dream, this transient thought,
this apparition destitute of body and substance,
this nothing, this span of life, so vile and con
temptible, is time which we must redeem, Eph,

216

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

[SER. LXXVIII.

v. 16; " a time of visitation" which we must
knoic, Luke xix. 44; " a time accepted, a day
of salvation" which we must improve, 2 Cor.
vi. 2; a period of " forbearance, and long-suf
fering" which we must embrace, Rom. ii. 4; a
time beyond which "there shall be time no
longer," Rev. x. 6, because after life is finished,
tears are unavailing, sighs are impotent, pray
ers are disregarded, and repentance is ineffec
tual. We proceed to deduce a

4. Fourth conclusion. A life through which
more time has been devoted to a present world,
than to preparation for eternity, corresponds
not to the views which the Creator proposed
to himself, when he placed us in this economy
of expectation. We were placed in this state
of probation, not to sleep, to eat, and to drink;
we were placed here to prepare for eternity.
If, therefore, we have devoted more of our
time to such functions as these, than to prepa
ration for eternity; if, at least, we have not
adapted these functions to the leading object
of eternity; if we have not been governed by
that maxim of St. Paul, 1 Cor. x. 31: "Whe
ther ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do
all to the glory of God," we certainly have not
conformed to the views which the Creator pro
posed to himself, in placing us under this eco
nomy of expectation and trial.

We were placed in this state of probation,
not merely to labour for the provision and es
tablishment of our families; we are placed here
to prepare for eternity. If, therefore, we have
devoted more of our time and attention to the
provision and establishment of our families,
than to preparation for eternity; if, at least, we
have not adapted to the leading object of eter
nity, our solicitudes and exertions in behalf of
our families, we certainly have not conformed
to the views which the Creator proposed to him
self, in placing us under this economy of ex
pectation and trial.

We were placed in this state of probation,
not merely to govern states, to cultivate arts
and sciences; we are placed here to prepare
for eternity. If, therefore, we have not direct
ed all our anxieties and exertions, on such sub
jects as these, to the leading object of eternity,
we certainly have not conformed to the views
which the Creator proposed to himself, in plac
ing us under this economy of expectation and
trial. Imagine not that we shall be judged
according to the ideas which we ourselves are
pleased to form of our vocation. We are un
der an economy of expectation and trial: time
then is given us, that we may prepare for eter
nity. A life, therefore, through which more
time and attention have been devoted to the
pursuits of this world, than to preparation for
eternity; corresponds not to the views which
the Creator proposed to himself, when he placed
us under this economy of expectation and trial.
This is the fourth conclusion.

5. We go on to deduce a fifth. A sinner
who has not conformed to the views which
God proposed to himself in placing him under
an economy of discipline and probation, ought
to pour out his soul in thanksgiving, that God
.8 graciously pleased still to lengthen it out.
Let each of you who, on taking a review of
his own life, must bear the dreadful testimony

viated from the views of his Creator, present
to God this day, a heart overflowing with gra
titude, that this tremendous sentence has not
yet been fulminated against him: " Give an
account of thy stewardship," Luke xvi. 2. It
is for this that life ought to be prized as infi
nitely dear; for this we have unspeakable
cause to rejoice, that we still behold the light
of this day.

" I have been in the world these thirty, forty,
threescore years; and ever since I arrived at
the exercise of reason, and felt the power of
conscience, I have enjoyed every advantage to
wards attaining the knowledge, and exhibiting
the practice of religion. Every display of
mercy, and every token of fatherly displeasure
have been employed to reclaim me. Not a
book written to convince the understanding,
but what has been put into my hands; not a
sermon calculated to move and to melt the
heart, but what has been addressed to my ears.
My corruption has proved too powerful for
them all. My life has been a tissue, if not of
enormous crimes, at least of dissipation and
thoughtlessness. If at any time I have shaken
off my habits of listlessness and inaction, it was
usually only to run into excesses, which have
already precipitated so many precious souls
into hell. When visited with sickness, when
death seemed to stare me in the face, I seemed
to behold, collected into one fatal moment, all
the sins of my life, and all the dreadful pun
ishments which they deserve. I carried a hell
within me; I believed myself to be encom
passed by demons and flames of fire; I became
my own executioner, when I called to remem
brance that wretched time which I had lavish
ed on the world and its lying vanities; and I
would have sacrificed my life a thousand and
a thousand times to redeem it, had God put it
in my power; I would have given the whole
world to bring back but one poor moment of
that precious time which I had so prodigally
squandered away; and God in mercy ineffable,
is still prolonging that day of visitation."

6. Finally, we farther deduce a sixth conclu
sion. Creatures, in whose favour God is
pleased still to lengthen out the day of grace,
the economy of long-suffering, which they have
improved to so little purpose, ought no longer
to delay, no not for a moment, to avail them
selves of a reprieve so graciously intended.
Creatures who stand on the brink of the grave,
and who have too just ground to fear that they
should be thrust into hell, were the grave im
mediately to swallow them up, ought instantly
to form a new plan of life, and instantly to set
about the execution of it. I conjure you, my
brethren, by the gospel of this day, I conjure
you by all that is powerful, all that is interest
ing, all that is tender, in the solemnity which
we are now assembled to celebrate, and in that
of last Lord's day: I conjure you to enter in
good earnest into the spirit of this reflection,
to keep it constantly in view through every
instant of the years which the patience of
God may still grant you, to make it as it were
the rule of all your designs, all your undertak
ings, of all your exertions. Without this we
can do nothing for you. The most ardent
prayers which we could address to heaven on

against himself, that he has most miserably de- your behalf, this day, would be as ineffectual

SER. LXXVIIL]

ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.

217

as those which Moses formerly presented in
behalf of the children of Israel, to obtain a
revocation of that awful doom; " I sware in
my wrath, that they should not enter into my
rest," Ps. xcv. 11. But if, on the contrary,
you are wise to admit the word of exhortation,
we are warranted to hold up our wishes for
your salvation, as so many promises sealed,
with that seal of God'which standeth sure, and
immediately emanating from the mouth of that
God, the Lord who changeth not.

APPLICATION.

I have embraced with avidity, my dearly
beloved brethren, the opportunity of contribut
ing to the present solemnity, to come to you
at a juncture so desirable, and to bring to you
the word of life, at a season when I am at li
berty to unfold to you a heart which has ever
been penetrated with a respectful tenderness
for this city and for this church. Deign to ac
cept my affectionate good wishes, with senti
ments conformable to those which dictated
them.

Venerable magistrates, to whose hands Pro
vidence has committed the reins of govern
ment, you are exahed to a station which our
devotions contemplate with respect! But we
are the ministers of a Master whose commands
control the universe; and it is from the inex
haustible source of his greatness, of his riches,
of his magnificence, that we draw the bene
dictions which we this day pronounce upon
your august heads. May God vouchsafe to
inspire you with that dignity of sentiment,
that magnanimity, that noble ambition, which
enable the sovereigns to whom he has entrust
ed the sword of his justice, to found on the
basis of justice, all their designs, and all their
decisions! May it please God to inspire you
with that charity, that condescension, that affa
bility, which sink the master in the father!
May it please God to inspire you with that
humility, that self-abasement, which engage
Christian magistrates to deposit all their power
at the feet of God, and to consider it as their
highest glory to render unto him a faithful ac
count of their administration! That account
is a solemn one. You are, to a certain degree,
responsible, not only for the temporal, but for
the eternal happiness of this people. The
eternal happiness of a nation frequently de
pends on the measures adopted by their gover
nors, on the care which they employ to curb
licentiousness, to suppress scandalous publica
tions, to procure respect for the ordinances of i
religion, and to supply the church with en- |
lightened, zealous, and faithful pastors. But I
magistrates who propose to themselves views
of such extensive utility and importance, are
warranted to expect from God, all the aid ne
cessary to the accomplishment of them. And
this aid, great God, we presume to implore in
behalf of these illustrious personages! May our
voice pierce the heavens, may our prayers be
crowned with an answer of peace!

Pastors, my dear companions in the great
plan of salvation, ye successors of apostolic
men in the edifying of the body of Christ, and
in the work of the ministry! God has set very
narrow bounds to what is called in the lan
guage of the world, our advancement and our
VOL. II.— 28

fortune. The religion which we profess, per
mits us not to aspire after those proud titles,
those posts of distinction, those splendid reti
nues which confound the ministers of temporal
princes with the ministers of that Jesus whose
kingdom is not of this world. But whatever we
lose with respect to those advantages which
dazzle the senses, is amply compensated to us
in real and solid blessings; at least, if we our
selves understand that religion which we make
known to others, and if we have a due sense
of that high vocation with which we are ho
noured of God. May that God, who has con
ferred this honour upon us, vouchsafe to endow
us with that illumination, and with those vir
tues, without which it is impossible for us to
discharge the duties of it in a becoming man
ner! May he vouchsafe to bestow upon us that
courage, that intrepidity, which are necessary
to our effectually resisting the enemies of our
holy reformation; nay, those too, who, under
the name of reformed, do their utmost to
thwart and to undermine it! May he vouch
safe to support us amidst the incessant difficul
ties and oppositions which we have to encoun
ter, through the course of our ministry, and to
animate us by the idea of those supereminent
degrees of glory, which await those, who, after
having " turned many to righteousness, shall
shine as the brightness of the firmament, and
as the stars for ever and ever!"

Merchants, ye who are the support of this
Republic, and who maintain in the midst of us
prosperity and abundance, may God vouchsafe
to continue this blessing upon your commerce!
May God cause the winds and the waves, na
ture and the elements, to unite their influences
in your favour! But above all, may God
vouchsafe to teach you the great art of " plac
ing your heart there where your treasure is;
to make to yourselves friends of the mammon
of unrighteousness;" to sanctify your prosperi
ty by your charities, especially on a day like
this, on which every one ought to prescribe to
himself the law of paying a homage of chanty
to God who is love, and whose love has spared
us to behold the light of this day!

Fathers and mothers, with whom it is so de
licious for me to blend myself, under an ad
dress so deeply interesting, may God enable us
to view our children, not as beings limited to
a present world, but as beings endowed with
an immortal soul, and formed for eternity!
May it please God to impress infinitely more
upon our hearts the desire of one day behold
ing them among the blessed in the kingdom of
heaven, than going on and prospering on the
earth! May God grant us the possession of
objects so endeared to the very close of life,
objects so necessary to the enjoyment of life!
May God vouchsafe, if he is pleased to take
them away from us, to grant us that submission
to his will, which enables us to support a cala
mity so severe!

My dearly beloved brethren, this reflection
chokes my utterance. May God vouchsafe to
hear all the wishes and prayers which my heart
has conceived, and which my lips have utter
ed, and all those which I am constrained to
suppress, and which are more in number than
the tongue is able to declare! Amen.

218

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

. LXXIX.

SERMON LXXIX.

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRIS
TIAN.

PART I.

GALATIANS vi. 14.

But God forbid that I should glory, save in the

cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the

world is crucified unto me, and I unto the

world.

THE solemnity which in a few days we are
going to celebrate, I mean the Ascension of
Jesus Christ, displays the triumph of the cross.
The Saviour of the world ascending in a cloud,
received up into heaven amidst the acclama
tions of the church triumphant, removes the
offence given by the Saviour of the world
hanging on a tree. The period of the cruci
fixion, I acknowledge, was precisely that in
which he carried magnanimity to its most ex
alted pitch. Never did he appear so truly
great as when " descended into the lower parts
of the earth," Eph. iv. 9; " humbled, made of
no reputation, obedient unto death, even the
death of the cross," Phil. ii. 7, 8; he accom
plished what was most repulsive to nature, in
the plan of redemption. But how difficult is
it to recognise heroism, when the hero termi
nates his career upon a scaffold!

The darkness which overspread the mystery
of the cross, is passing away; the veils which
concealed the glory of Jesus Christ, begin to
withdraw; heaven, which seemed to have con
spired with earth and with hell to depress and
overwhelm him, declares aloud in his favour;
his splendour bursts out of obscurity, and his
glory from the very bosom of shame: because
" he made himself of no reputation, and took
upon him the form of a servant; because he
humbled himself; because he became obedient
unto death, even the death of the cross: there-i-
fore God also hath highly exalted him, and
given him a name which is above every name;
that at the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth,
and things under the earth," Phil. ii. 9, 10.

What circumstances more proper could we
have selected, Christians, to induce you to seek
your glory in the cross of your Saviour, than
those which display it, followed by so much
pomp and magnificence? I am going to pro
pose to you as a model the man who of all
others best understood the mystery of the cross:
for my part, says he in the words which I have
read, " God forbid that I should glory, save in
tne cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom
the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the
world." Let us meditate on this subject with
all that application of thought which it so justly
merits.

And thou great High Priest, " Minister of
the true tabernacle! thou holy, harmless, un-
defiled, separate from sinners, and made higher
than the heavens; set on the right hand of the
throne of the Majesty in the heavens," Heb.
vii. 26; viii. 21, graciously look down on this
people, now combating under the banners of

the cross! It is impossible for us to call to re
membrance the great day of thy exaltation,
without fixing our eyes upon thee, with those
blessed disciples of thine who were the wit
nesses of it, without following thee, as they did
with the bodily organ, and with all the powers
of thought, and without crying out, " Draw us,
Lord, we will run after thee," Cant. i. 4. But
in giving way to such desires, we misunder
stand the nature of our vocation. We must
cbmbat as thou hast done, in order to triumph
with thee. Well, be it so! " Teach my hands
to war, and my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1.
Teach us to make thy cross a ladder, whereon
to mount to thy throne. Amen.

The text which we have announced, is, as it
were, a conclusion deduced from the chapters
which precede it. We cannot possibly have a
clear comprehension of it, without a general
recollection of the whole epistle from which it
is taken. St. Paul, in writing to the Galatians,
has this principally in view, to revive the spirit
of Christianity which he himself had diffused
over the whole province of Galatia. Never
had preacher greater success than the ministry
of our apostle was attended with in this city
of the Lesser Asia. He himself gives this ho
nourable testimony in favour of the G alatians,
in chap. iv. ver. 15, that " they had received
him as an angel of God," and, which is saying
still more, " even as Christ Jesus." But the
Gauls, of which this people was a colony, have,
in all ages, been reproached with the faculty of
easily taking impressions, and of losing them
with equal facility. The sentiments with which
St. Paul had inspired them, shared the fate of
all violent sensations; that is, they were of no
great duration. With this he upbraids them
in the very beginning of the epistle. / marvel,
says he to them, chap. i. 6, " I marvel that
ye are so soon removed from him that called
you into the grace of Christ, unto another
gospel." Mark the expression, removed unto
another gospel.

We are not possessed of memoirs of the first
ages of the church sufficiently ample to enable
us to determine, with precision, who were the
authors of a revolution so deplorable. But if
we may give credit to two of the earliest his
torians, to whom we are indebted for the most
complete accounts which we have of the first
fathers of heresy, I mean Philostratus and St.
Epiphanius, it was Cerinthus himself, in the
first instance, and his disciples afterward, who
marred the good seed which St. Paul had sown
in the church of Galatia. One thing is certain,
namely, that respect for the ceremonial obser
vances which God himself had prescribed in a
manner so solemn, and particularly for the law
of circumcision, was the reason, or rather the
pretext, of which the adversaries of our apos
tle availed themselves to destroy the fruits of
his ministry, by exciting suspicions against the
soundness of his doctrine. St. Paul goes to
the root of the evil: he conveys just ideas of
these ceremonial institutions; he demonstrates,
that, however venerable the origin of them
might be, and whatever the wisdom displayed
in their establishment, they had never been laid
down as the essential part of religion, much
less still, as the true means of reconciling men
to God. We perceive at first sight this design

SER. LXXIX.]

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

219

of the apostle in the words of my text, and
through the .whole epistle from which they are
taken.

But what is perhaps not so easily discovera
ble in it, but which ought to be very carefully
observed, is, that as St. Paul was maintaining
his thesis against opponents of different sorts,
so he likewise supports it on different princi
ples. Three descriptions of persons argued in
favour of the Levitical observances. The first
did so from a prejudice of birth and education.
The second, from an excess of complaisance.
The third from a criminal policy.

1. A part of the Jews, who bad been con
verted to Christianity, could not help preserv
ing a respect for the Levitical ceremonies, and
wished to transmit the observance of them
into the Christian church. These were the
persons who acted from a prejudice of birth
and education.

2. Some of them, more enlightened, out of
complaisance to others, would have wished to
retain the practice of those rites. In this class
we find no less a person than St. Peter himself,
as we learn from the second chapter of this
epistle, the eleventh and following verses; and
what is most to be regretted in the case, this
apostle fell into such an excess of compliance,
that he not only authorised by his example
that respect which the Jews had for the Levi
tical institutions; but, being at Antioch when
certain Jews were sent thither by St. James,
he pretended to break off all intercourse with
the Gentile converts to Christianity, because
they had not submitted to the ordinance of
circumcision; in this he acted from an excessive
and timid complaisance. This weakness of St.
Peter, to mention by the way, has been laid
hold of by one of the most declared enemies of
Christianity, I mean the philosopher Porphyry.
The reproaches which he vents against the
Christians, on this ground, appeared so galling
to them, that they had recourse to a pious
fraud to defend themselves. They alleged,
nay, they perhaps seriously believed, that the
person thus branded with timidity was not
Peter the apostle, but one Cephas, who, as they
are pleased to give out, was of the number of
the seventy disciples of Jesus Christ, mentioned
in the gospel. A most chimerical supposition!
which has been latterly adopted by a celebrated
Jesuit,* and which has swelled the catalogue
of his extravagances.

3. But if some from prejudice wished to
transmit the Levitical ceremonies into Christi
anity, and others from an excess of complai
sance, there was still a third description of per
sons who did so, out of a criminal policy.
Such were the pagan converts. Respecting
which it is necessary to remark, that the Jewish
religion was tolerated by the Roman laws;
whereas the religion of Jesus Christ was pro
scribed by them, and Christians were thereby
exposed to the most violent persecution. This
it was which induced the pagan converts to
conform to the Levitical ceremonies, that they
might pass for Jews under this veil of Judaism.

A passage of St. Jerome to this purpose de
serves to be here inserted. " CAIUS CESAR,"

* Father Hardouin, in his Dissertation on Gallatians
& 10.

says he,* "AUGUSTUS and TIBERIUS enacted
laws, by which the Jews dispersed over the
Roman empire were authorised to practise the
rites of their religion, and the ceremonial insti
tutions transmitted to them from their fathers.
All those who were circumcised, though they
had embraced Christianity, were considered all
over the pagan world as Jews; but all those
who remained in a state of uncircumcision,
while they professedly received the gospel,
were equally persecuted by Jews and pagans.
There were teachers among them, therefore,
who, in order to screen themselves from these
persecutions, submitted to be circumcised, and
recommended circumcision to their disciples."

These are the words of St. Jerome, and they
throw much light on what our apostle says in
the twelfth verse of the chapter from which I
have taken my text. "As many as desire to
make a fair show in the flesh, they constrain
you to be circumcised; only lest they should
suffer persecution for the cross of Christ." And
as a relaxed morality has always the most nu
merous supporters, we see that in the church
of Galatia, the teachers who made the greatest
use of this artifice, not only attracted the great
est number of disciples, but likewise made that
superiority a source of vain-glorious boasting.
This is the sense of the words which immedi
ately precede our text: "For neither they
themselves who are circumcised keep the law;
but desire to have you circumcised, that they
might glory in your flesh."

These were the three descriptions of oppo
nents against whom Paul had to maintain the
inutility of the observance of the Levitical cere
monial, and to assert the exclusive doctrine of
the cross.

One of the principal causes of the obscurity
of St. Paul's Epistle is this, that it is not always
easy to distinguish the general arguments
which that apostle advances in them, from
certain reasonings of a different kind, which
are conclusive only against some particular
adversaries. Is it not evident, for example,
that all the consequences which he deduces
from the history of Hagar, whom he makes the
emblem of the ancient dispensation; and from
that of Sarah, whom he makes the emblem of
the evangelical, could make an impression only
on the minds of Jews, who were accustomed
to allegory, and who particularly discovered it
in the different condition of that wife, and of
that handmaid of Abraham; as appears in many
passages of Philo, which it would be improper
it present to introduce?

Now, my brethren, it is impossible to have a
lear conception of the Epistles of our apostle,
without carefully distinguishing those different
adversaries whom he had to combat, and the
different arguments which he employs to con
fute them. Nay, this distinction is the very
key which explains to us the different conduct
observed by the apostles toward their prose
lytes. For they believed themselves obliged,
with respect to those who had come over from
Judaism, to tolerate that Levitical ceremonial
to which they were attached by the prejudices
of birth; whereas this connivance might have
proved dangerous to others who conformed to

* Hieron. torn. 9. in Galat. vi. 12.

220

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

[SER. LXXIX.

the practice of it merely from the dastardly
motive which induced them to disguise their
religion, or to screen themselves from the per
secution to which it exposed them who gloried
in making profession of it.

But whatever difference there may be in the
character of the opponents whom the apostle
was combating, and in the arguments which
he employed to confute them, he presses on all
of them this principle, on which the whole fa
bric of Christianity rests. The sacrifice which
Jesus Christ offered up, that of his own life, is
the only one capable of satisfying the demands
of divine justice, awakened to the punishment
of human guilt; and to divide the glory of the
Redeemer's sacrifice with the Levitical ceremonial,
was, as he expresses it, to preach another gospel;
was to fall from grace; was to lose the fruit of
all the sufferings endured in the cause of
Christianity; was a doctrine worthy of being
rejected with execration, were it to be preached
even by " an angel from heaven." Our apostle
goes still farther; he solemnly protests that no
worldly consideration should ever have power
to make him renounce this leading truth of the
gospel; that the more it exposed him to hatred
and suffering, the more he would rejoice in the
knowledge of it, and in making it known to
others; in a word, he declares he will continue
to preach the cross, were the consequences to
be, that he himself should be nailed to it: " God
forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of
our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is
crucified unto me, and I unto the world."
This is the general scope of the epistle to the
Galatians, particularly of our text, which is
the conclusion of it.

But it is of importance to descend into a
more particular detail. And, in order to throw
more light on my subject, I propose, as far as
the limits prescribed me permit, to attempt the
three following things:

I. I shall examine wherein those sentiments
of the Christian consist, which enable him to
say that " the world is crucified unto him, and
he unto the world." A

II. I shall show that in such sentiments as
these true glory consists.

III. I shall demonstrate that it is the cross
of Christ, and the cross of Christ alone, which
can inspire us with these sentiments; from
which I shall deduce this farther consequence,
that in the cross of Christ alone we can find a
just ground of glorying. Vouchsafe us a few
moments more of your attention to the elucida
tion of these interesting truths.

I. What is the disposition of mind denoted by
these expressions, "the world is crucified unto
me; I am crucified unto the world?" In order
to have just ideas of this reciprocal crucifixion,
we must comprehend, 1. The nature of it.
2. The degrees. 3. The bitterness.

1. The nature of it. " The world is crucified
unto me; I am crucified unto the world:" this
is a figurative mode of expression, importing a
total rupture with the world. Distinguish
two different senses in which the term world
may be taken: the world of nature, and the
world of cupidity. By the world of nature
we understand that vast assemblage of beings
which the almighty arm of Jehovah has formed,
but these considered as they are in themselves.

By the world of cupidity we understand those
self-same beings, considered so far as by our
abuse of them, they seduce us from the obedi
ence which we owe to the Creator. Of the
natural world it is said, Gen. i. 31, " God saw
every thing that he had made, and behold it
was very good." And St. PauF says, 1 Tim.
iv. 4, that " every creature of God is good . . .
if it be received with thanksgiving." The
Christian does not break with the world in
this first sense of the word. On the contrary,
he makes it the object of his frequent medita
tion; he discovers in it the perfections of the
great Being who created it: "The heavens de
clare the glory of God; and the firmament
showeth his handy work," Ps. xix. 1. Nay
more, he makes it the object of his hope: For
the promise, I quote the words of St. Paul, in
chap. iv. 13, of his Epistle to the Romans,
" For the promise that he should be the heir
of the world was made to Abraham: and all
tilings are yours; whether Paul or Apollos, or
Cephas, or the world," 1 Cor. iii. 22.

It is the world of cupidity, therefore, that
our apostle speaks in the words which 1 am at
tempting to explain, that world of which it is
said, " The world passeth away, and the lust
thereof. Love not the world, neither the things
that are in the world," 1 John ii. 15. 17. " The
friendship of the world is enmity with," or as
it might have been rendered, "is hatred to
God." This is the world which " is crucified"
to the Christian; the Christian " is crucified"
to this world. The apostle, in expressing him
self thus strongly, refines upon a form of speech
which frequently occurs in Scripture, that of

to an object." To die to an object, is,
n the style of the sacred authors, to have no
farther intercourse with that object. In this
sense our apostle says, in chap. ii. of this Epis
tle, ver. 19, "I through the law am dead to
the law;" in other words, the genius of severity
which predominates in the Mosaic economy,
lays me under the necessity of entirely re
nouncing it, " that I might live unto God;" the
meaning of which evidently is this, that I may
have undivided recourse to a dispensation
which presents the Deity as more accessible to
me. In like manner, " to die to the world of
cupidity," or what amounts to the same thing,
" to die unto sin," is to renounce sin; " how
shall we who are dead to sin live any longer
therein? likewise reckon ye also yourselves to
be dead indeed unto sin: but alive unto God,
through Jesus Christ our Lord," Rom. vi. 2
11. I am still quoting the words of St. Paul.

But as if a violent death were more really
dying than death in a milder form, Scripture,
in order to mark more decidedly the sincerity
of the renunciation of the world, which is as
cribed to the Christian, is not satisfied with re
presenting him as dead, but holds him up as
crucified to the world of cupidity: " Knowing
this, that our old man is crucified with him,"
Rom. vi. 6. " They who are in Christ have
crucified the flesh, with its lusts;" and in the
text, "the world is crucified unto me, and I
am crucified unto the world:" that is, illicit cu
pidity exists no longer with respect to me, and
1 subsist no longer with respect to it.

2. There is, however, a certain degree of
ambiguity in these ideas of " deadness to the

SER. LXXIX.] THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

world," of " crucifixion to the world," of " a
total rupture with the world." For this reason
it is that we said, that in order to have just
ideas of this disposition of mind, it is not suf
ficient to comprehend the nature of it, but that
we should also understand the gradations of
which it admits. If, in order worthily to sus
tain the Christian character, an absolute renun
ciation of the world, in the literal sense of the
words, were indisputably necessary, where is
the person, alas! who durst pretend to assume
that name? Would it be a Noah? would it be
an Abraham? would it be a Moses? would it be
a David? would it be a Peter? would it be a
Paul? would it be one of you, Christians of our
own days, who seem to have carried piety to
its highest degree of fervour, and "who shine
as lights in the world, in the midst of a crook
ed and perverse nation?" Phil. ii. 15.

Where, then, are those saints to be found, in
whom an ill-smothered cupidity emits no sparks?
That female is an example of what is called
virtue, by way of eminence, in her sex; and
which, according to the ideas of the age in
which we live, seems to constitute the whole
of virtue, as far as she is concerned; but, im
pregnable to all the assaults which can be made
upon her chastity, she succumbs under the
slightest temptation that attacks her on the side
of avarice; and she loses all self-government,
the moment you recommend to her, to take care
that her charities be in something like propor
tion to her opulence.

That man is a pattern of reflective retire
ment, and modest silence: but, unshaken by the
rudest attacks made upon his spirit of reserve,
he yields to the slightest solicitations of pride,
he decks himself out with the names and titles
of his ancestors, he admires himself in the
poorest effusions of his brain. How easy would
it be to multiply examples of this sort!

But if it be impossible to say, taking the ex
pression in the strictness of interpretation, that
the Christian has broken off all commerce with
the world, that he is " dead to the world,"
that " the world is crucified unto him," and
that "he is crucified unto the world;" he pos
sesses this disposition of mind, nevertheless, in
various respects, and to a certain degree. " He
is crucified unto the world;" he is so in respect
of intention, he has that sincere will " to pull
down every strong hold, every thing that ex-
alteth itself against the knowledge of God;" it
is an expression of St. Paul's, 2 Cor. x. 4, 5.
Hence such protestations as these, " O Lord!
thou hast searched me, and known me," Ps.
cxxxix. 1. "Lord! thou knowest that I love
thee," John xxl. 17. Hence the bitterness of
regret on account of remaining imperfection,
" O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver
me from the body of this death?" Rom. vii. 24.
Hence those prayers for the communication of
fresh supplies of heavenly aid; " Open thou
mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things
out of thy law," Ps. cxix. 18. " Teach me to
do thy will, for thou art my God: thy Spirit is
good; lead me into the land of uprightness,"
Ps. cxliii. 10.

"He is crucified unto the world." He is
so in respect of exertion and actual progress.
Hence those unremitting conflicts with the re
mains of indwelling corruption; " I keep under

221

my body, and bring it into subjection," 1 Cor.
ix. 27. Hence those advances in the Christian
course; " not as though I had already attained,
either were already perfect, but I follow after
. . . . This one thing I do, forgetting those
things which are behind, and reaching forth
unto those things which are before, I press to
ward the mark, for the prize of the high call-
ins of God in Christ Jesus," Phil. iii. 12—14.

"" He is crucified unto the world." He is so
in respect of hope and fervour. Hence those
sighings after the dissolution of the body, which
forms, as it were, a wall of separation between
God and us. Hence those ardent breathings
after a dispensation, and economy of things in
which we shall be able to give an unrestrained
effusion to the love of order, and be completely
united to Jesus Christ. " For we that are in
this tabernacle do groan, being burdened; not
for that we would be unclothed, but clothed
upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of
life, .... knowing that whilst we are at
home in the body, we are absent from the
Lord; .... and willing rather to be absent
from the body, and to be present with the
Lord," 2 Cor. v. 4. 6. 8.

3. But the Holy Spirit, in representing to us
our renunciation of the world, under the idea
of a death, of a crucifixion, intended to mark
not only the nature and the degrees of the dis
position of mind which these expressions de
note, but likewise to indicate the difficulty, the
bitterness, of making such a sacrifice.

In very rare instances do men die without
suffering. Death, in the gentlest form, is usu
ally preceded by violent symptoms, which some
have denominated the harbingers of death. —
These harbingers of death are mortal swoon-
ings, feverish heats, paroxysms of pain, tortures
insupportable. Crucifixion, especially, was the
most cruel punishment which human justice,
shall I call it? or human barbarity ever invent
ed. The imagination recoils from the repre
sentation of a man nailed to a tree, suspended
by the iron which pierces his hands and his
feet, pressed downward with the weight of his
own body, the blood of which is drained off
drop by drop, till he expires merely from excess
of anguish.

Is this frightful image overstrained, when
employed to represent the pains which the
Christian is called to endure, the conflicts
which he has to maintain, the sacrifices which
he is bound to make; agonies which he is under
an indispensable necessity to undergo, before he
possibly can attain that blessed state which our
apostle had, through grace, arrived at, when
he said, in the words of my text, " the world
is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto
the world?"

Represent to yourselves a Christian, repre
sent to yourselves a man as yet a novice in the
school of Jesus Christ, called to combat, some
times the propensities which he brought with
him into the world ;.some times to eradicate a ha
bit which has grown up in him, till it is become
a second nature: sometimes to stem the torrent
of custom and example; sometimes to mortify
and subdue a headstrong passion, which en
grosses him, transports him, drags him away
captive; sometimes to bid an everlasting fare
well to the place of his birth, to his kindred,

222

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

[SER. LXXIX.

and, like Abraham, " to go out, not knowing
whither he went;" sometimes, with that same
patriarch, to immolate an only son; to tear
himself, on a dying bed, from friends, from a
spouse, from a child, whom he loves as his own
soul; and all this without murmuring or com
plaining: and all this, because it is the will of
God; and all this, with that submission which
was expressed by Jesus Christ, the author and
finisher of the Christian's faith, his Redeemer
and his pattern: " Not what I will, but what
thou wilt," Matt. xxvi. 39.

O cross of my Saviour, how heavily dost
thou press, when laid upon a man who has not
yet carried love to thee to that height which
renders all things easy to him who loves! O
path of virtue, which appearest so smooth to
them who walk in thee, how rugged is the road
which leads unto thee! O yoke of Jesus Christ,
so easy! burden so light to him who has been
accustomed to bear thee; how difficult, how
oppressive to those who are but beginning to
try their strength! You see it, accordingly, my
brethren! you see it on the page of inspiration,
to renounce the world of cupidity, is to present
the body in sacrifice; " I beseech you, brethren,
by the mercies of God, that ye present your
bodies a living sacrifice," Rom. xii. 1; it is to
" cut off a right hand," it is to " pluck out a
right eye," Matt. v. 29, 30; it is for a man to
" deny himself," it is to " take up the cross:"
for "if any one will come after me, let him
deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow
me," Matt. xvi. 24; it is, in a word, to be " cru
cified with Jesus Christ;" for " I am crucified
with Christ," Gal. ii. 20; and, in the words of
the text, " The world is crucified unto me, and
I am crucified unto the world." My God, how
much it costs to be a Christian!

SERMON LXXIX.

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRIS
TIAN.

PART II.

GALATIANS vi. 14. ,
But God forbid that I should glory, save in the

cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the

world is crucified unto me, and I unto the

world.

HAVING presented you with a general view
of the apostle's reasoning in this epistle; hav
ing considered it as an answer to three dif
ferent classes of opponents, whom St. Paul
had to combat; namely, those who maintained
the observance of the Levitical institutions, to
the disparagement of the gospel, 1. From the
prejudice of birth and education: 2. From an
excess of complaisance: 3. From criminal po
licy: we proceeded to show, that whatever dif
ference of motive and opinion might prevail
among these three descriptions of adversaries
whom our apostle had to encounter, and how
ever different the strain of reasoning which he
employs, according as the character of each
demanded, he supports, in opposition to them
all, this principle, on which the whole of Chris
tianity rests, namely, that the sacrifice which

the Redeemer offered up of his own life, is
alone capable of satisfying divine justice, and
of reconciling guilty man to God.

We then entered into a more particular de
tail on the subject, by proposing,

I. To examine wherein that disposition of
the Christian consists, by which he is enabled,
with St. Paul, to say, " the world is crucified
unto me, and I am crucified unto the world."

II. To show, that in such dispositions as
these, true glory consists.

III. To demonstrate that it is the cross of
Christ, and the cross of Christ only, which can
inspire us with these sentiments; as a founda
tion for this farther conclusion, that in the
cross of Christ alone we can find a just ground
of glorying.

The first of these three proposals we have
endeavoured to execute, by considering, 1.
The nature of this reciprocal crucifixion: 2.
The gradations of which it admits: 3. The dif
ficulty, the bitterness, of making a sacrifice so
very painful. We now proceed to what was
next proposed, namely,

II. To show, that in such dispositions as
are expressed by our apostle, true glory con
sists.

In order to elucidate and confirm this posi
tion, I mean to institute a comparison between
the hero of this world, and the Christian hero,
in the view of making it evidently apparent,
that this last has infinitely the superiority over
the other. From what sources does the hero
of this world pretend to derive his glory?

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory, from the greatness of the master to
whom his services are devoted. He congra
tulates himself on contributing to the glory of
those men who are so highly exalted above the
rest of mankind, on being the support of their
throne, and the guardian of their crown. The
Master, to whose service the Christian has
devoted himself, is the King of kings: he it is,
in whose presence all the potentates of the
earth " are as a drop of a bucket, and are
counted as the small dust of the balance," Isa.
xl. 15. He it is, by whose supreme authority
" kings reign, and princes decree justice,"
Prov. viii. 15. It is true that the greatness of
this adorable Being raises him far above all our
services. It is true that his throne is establish
ed for ever, and that the united force of all
created things would in vain attempt to shake
it. But if the Christian can contribute no
thing to the glory of so great a master, he
publishes it abroad, he confounds those who
presume to invade it, he makes it to be known
over the whole earth.

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory from the hatred with which he is ani
mated, against the enemy with whom he is
making war. What enemy more hateful can
a man engage, than the world? It is the world
which degrades us from our natural greatness;
which effaces from the soul of man, those traits
which the finger of Deity himself has impress
ed upon it; which destroys our pretensions to
a blessed immortality.

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory from the dignity of the persons who
have preceded him in the same honourable
career. It is considered in the world, as glo-

SKR. LXXIX.] THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

223

rious, to succeed those illustrious men who
have filled the universe with the sound of their
name, who have made terror to stalk before
them, and who signalized themselves by ex
ploits more than human. The Christian has
been preceded in his career by patriarchs, by
prophets, by apostles, by martyrs, by those
multitudes of the redeemed, out of every kin
dred, and tongue, and people, and nation, Rev.
v. 9. Those holy men have been called to
wage war with sin, as we are to subdue our
passions; to form in their inner man, as we
are, piety, charity, patience, the habit and the
practice of every virtue. The Christian has
been preceded in his career, by Jesus Christ
himself, the author and the finisher of the
faith. "Wherefore, seeing we also are com
passed about with so great a cloud of witnesses,
let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which
doth so easily beset us, and let us run with pa
tience the race which is set before us, looking
unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith;
who, for the joy that was set before him, en
dured the cross, despising the shame," Heb.
xii. 1, 2.

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory from the brilliancy of his achieve
ments. But who has greater exploits to glory
in than the Christian can display? To shake
off the yoke of prejudice, to despise the maxims
of men, to resist flesh and blood, to subdue
passion, to brave death, to suffer martyrdom,
to remain unmoved amidst the convulsions of
dissolving nature, and, in the very wreck of a
labouring universe, to be able to apply those
exceeding great and precious promises, which
God has spoken by the mouth of the prophet,
Isa. liv. 10. " The mountains shall depart,
and the hills be removed: but my kindness
shall not depart from thee, neither shall the
covenant of my peace be removed, saith the
Lord that hath mercy on thee." These, these
are the achievements of the Christian.

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory from the benefits which he has pro
cured for others, from the blessings with which
he has enriched his country, from the slaves
whose chains he has burst asunder, from the
monsters of which he has purged the earth.
Who is, in such respects as these, a greater ,
benefactor to society than the Christian? He
is at once, its bulwark, its light and its model. \

The hero of this world sometimes derives
his glory from the acclamations which his ex
ploits excite, and from the magnificence of the
recompense with which his merits are to be I
crowned. But whence proceed the acclama
tions which inflate his pride? Does it belong
to venal souls, to courtiers, to hireling panegy
rists; does it belong to persons of this descrip-
t tion to distribute commendation and applause?
Have they any thing like the idea of true glory?
Extend, Christian, extend thy meditations up
to the greatness of the Supreme Being! Think
of that adorable intelligence, who unites in his
essence all that deserves the name of great!
Contemplate the Divinity surrounded with
angels, with archangels, with the seraphim!
Listen to the concerts which those blessed
spirits compose to the glory of his name! Be
hold them penetrated, ravished, transported
with the divine beauties which are disclosed

to their view; employing eternity in celebrat
ing their excellency, and crying aloud day and
night: " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts!
The whole earth is full of his glory," Isa. vi.
3. " Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom,
and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and
might, be unto our God, for ever and ever!
Amen," Rev. vii. 12. " Great and marvellous
are thy works, Lord God Almighty! just and
true are thy ways, thou King of saints! Who
shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy
name? for thou only art holy," Rev. xv. 3, 4.
This Being, so worthy to be praised, and
praised in a manner so worthy of him, he it is
who has been preparing acclamations for the
conquerors of the world. Yes, Christian com
batant! after thou hast been treated " as the
filth of the world, and the offscouring of all
things," 1 Cor. iv. 13, after thou shalt have
mortified, subjected, crucified this flesh; after
thou shalt have borne this cross, which was
once " to the Jews, a stumbling block; and to
the Greeks foolishness;" and which is still to
this day, foolishness and a stumbling block to
those who ought to consider it as their highest
glory to bear it; thou shalt be called forth in
the presence of men and of angels; the eye of
the great God shall distinguish thee amidst the
innumerable company of the saints; he shall
address thee in these words: " Well done, good
and faithful servant," Matt. xxv. 21. He will
fulfil the promise which he this day is making
to all who combat under the banner of the
cross: " to him that overcometh, will I grant
to sit with me in my throne," Rev. iii. 21.

Ah! glory of the hero of this world, profane
panegyrics, inscriptions conceived in high
swelling words of vanity, superb trophies, dia
dems, fitter to serve as an amusement to chil
dren, than to engage the attention of reasonable
men! what have ye once to be compared with
the acclamations, and with the crowns prepar
ed for the Christian hero? I sacrifice, my
brethren, to the standard prescribed to the
duration of these exercises, the delicious me
ditations which this branch of my subject so

' copiously supplies, and all I farther request of
you is a moment's attention, while I endeavour
to make you sensible, that it is in the cross of
Jesus Christ alone, we find every thing neces
sary to inspire these noble dispositions; in order
to deduce this consequence, that in the cross
of Jesus Christ alone, the Christian must look
for true glory; and in order to justify this sen
timent of our apostle: " God forbid that I
should glory, save in the cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified
unto me, and I unto the world!" Under what

! aspect can you contemplate the cross of Christ,
that does not dispose you to break off entirely
with the world?

III. If we consider that cross in respect of
its harmony with the whole contradiction which
Jesus Christ endured upon earth, it has a pow
erful tendency to awaken in us the dispositions
which St. Paul expresses, so as to say with
him, " the world is crucified unto me, and I
am crucified unto the world." Our great Mas
ter finishes upon a cross, a life passed in con
tempt, in indigence, in mortification of the
senses, in hunger, in thirst, in weariness, in
separation from the world; would it be becoin-

224

THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN.

LXXIX.

ing in a Christian to lull himself to sleep in
the arms of indolence, to addict himself to the
pleasures of sense, to suffer himself to be en
chanted by the charms of voluptuousness, to
breathe after nothing but ease, but convenience,
but repose, but abundance? "If the world
hate you, ye know that it hated me before it
hated you. Remember the word that I said
unto you, the servant is not greater than his
Lord," Jonn xv. 18. 20.

If we consider the cross of Christ, in rela
tion to the sacrifice which is there offered up to
divine justice, it has a powerful tendency to
produce in us the dispositions expressed by St.
Paul, so as to be able to say with him, " The
world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified
unto the world." That worldly life, those dis
sipations, those accumulated rebellions against
the* commands of heaven; that cupidity which
engrosses us, and constitutes all our delight, in
what is all this to terminate? Observe the
tempests which it gathers around the head of
those who give themselves up to criminal in
dulgence. Jesus Christ was perfectly exempt
from sin, but he took ours upon himself, " he
bare them in his own body on the tree," 1 Pet.
ii. 24, and it was for this end that he under
went, on that accursed tree, all those torments
which his divinity and his innocence enabled
him to support, without sinking under the load.
Behold in this, O sinner, the fearful doom
which awaits thee. Yes, unless thou art cruci
fied with Christ by faith, thou shalt be by the
justice of God. And then all the fury of that
justice shall be levelled at thy head, as it was
at his. Then thou shalt be exposed on a dying
bed to the dreadful conflicts which he endured
in Gethsemane. Thou shalt shudder at the
idea of that punishment which an avenging
Deity is preparing for thee. Thou shalt sweat
as it were great drops of blood, when the eye
is directed to the tribunal of justice whither
thou art going to be dragged. Nay more,
thou shalt then be condemned to compensate,
by the duration of thy punishment, what the
weakness of thy nature renders thee incapable
of supporting in respect to weight. Ages ac
cumulated upon ages shall set no bounds to
thy torments. Thou shalt be accursed of God
through eternity, as Jesus Christ was in time:
and that cross which thou refusedst to bear for
a time, thou must bear for ever and ever.

If we consider the cross of Jesus Christ, with
relation to the atrocious guilt of those who
despise a sacrifice of such high value, we shall
feel a powerful tendency to adopt the disposi
tions of St. Paul, and to say with him, " the
world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified
unto the world." The image which I would
here trace for your inspection, is still that of
St. Paul. This apostle depicts to us the love
of the world, as a contempt of the cross of
Christ, and as a renewal of the punishment
which he suffered. The idea of what such a
crime deserves, absorbs and confounds his spi
rit; he cannot find colours strong enough to
paint it; and he satisfies himself with asking,
after he had mentioned the punishment inflicted
on those who had violated the law of Moses:
" Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye,
shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden
under foot the Son of God, and hath counted

the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was
sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done de
spite unto the spirit of grace?" Heb. x. 29.

Here, sinner, here read thy sentence! The
voice of the blood of the Son of God will cry
from earth to heaven for vengeance against
thee. God will one day call thee to give an
account of the blood of a Son so dear to him.
He will say unto thee as St. Peter did to those
who shed it; "Thou hast denied the Holy
One and the just .... and killed the Prince
of Life," Acts iii. 14, 15. He will pursue thee
with all his plagues, as if thou hadst imbrued
thy hands in that blood, and as he has pur
sued those who were actually guilty of that
crime.

But less us press motives more gentle, and
more congenial to the dignity of the redeemed
of the Lord. If we consider the cross of Christ,
in relation to the proofs which he there dis
plays to us of his love, is it possible we should
I find any thing too painful in the sacrifices
I which he demands of us? Is it possible for us
i to do too much for that Jesus who has done sc
I much for us? When the heart feels a disposi
tion to revolt against the morality of the gos
pel; when you are tempted to say, " This is a
hard saying, who can hear it?" John vi. 60.
When the gate of heaven seems too strait for
, you; when the flesh would exaggerate the dif
ficulties of working out your salvation; wher»
i it seems as if we were tearing the heart from
your bosom, in charging you to curb the impe
tuosity of your temperament, to resist the tor
rent of irregular desire, to give a portion of
your goods to the poor, to sacrifice a Delilah
or a Drusilla: follow your Saviour to Calvary:
behold him passing the brook Kidron, ascend
ing the fatal Mount on which his sacrifice waa
to be accomplished; behold that concourse of
woes which constrain him to cry out, " My
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Matt, xxvii. 46. If ye can, hold out against
objects like these!

If we consider the cross of Jesus Christ, rela
tively to the proofs which it supplies in support
of the doctrine of him who there finished his
life, it will be a powerful inducement to adopt
the sentiments of St. Paul. It is natural, I
allow, for reasonable beings, of whom sacrifi
ces are exacted, so costly as those which Chris
tianity prescribes, to expect full assurance of
the truth of that religion. It is impossible to
employ too much precaution, when the point
in question is, whether or not we are to surren
der victims so beloved. The slightest doubt
on this head is of essential importance. But
is this article susceptible of the slightest doubt?
Jesus Christ sealed with his blood the doc
trine which he taught; he was not only the
hero of the religion which we preach, but like-
wise the martyr of it.

If we consider the cross of Christ, relatively
to the aid necessary to form us to the senti
ments expressed by St. Paul, it still power
fully presses us to adopt them. It assures, on
the part of God, of every support we can
need, in maintaining the conflicts to which we
are called. It lays the foundation of this rea
soning, the justest, the most conclusive, which
intelligence ever formed: " If God be for us,
who can be against us? He that spared not

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

225

his own Son, but delivered him up for us all,
how shall he not with him also freely give us
all things?" Rom. viii. 31, 32.

And, to conclude this discourse by repre
senting the same images which we traced in
the beginning of it, if we consider the cross of
our Lord Jesus Christ, relatively to the glory
which followed, it still presses us to adopt the
sentiments of St. Paul in the text. The idea
of that glory carried Jesus Christ through all
that was most painful in his sacrifice. On the
eve of consummating it, he thus addresses his
heavenly Father: " The hour is come that the
Son of man should be glorified. Father, glo
rify thy name ..... Father, the hour is
come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may

glorify thee I have glorified thee on

the earth; I have finished the work which thou
gavest me to do: and now, O Father, glorify
thou me with thine own self, with the glory
which I had with thee before the world was,"
John xii. 23. 28; xvii. 1. 4, 5. This expectation
was not disappointed. The conflict was long,
it was severe, but it came to a period; but hea
venly messengers descended to receive him as
he issued from the tomb; but a cloud came to
raise him from the earth; but the gates of hea
ven opened, with the acclamations of the
church triumphant, celebrating his victories,
and hailing his exaltation in these strains:
" Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye
lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of
Glory shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7.

Christians! let our eyes settle on this object.
To suffer with Jesus Christ, is to have full as
surance of reigning with him. We do not
mean to conceal from you the pains which
await you in the career prescribed to the fol
lowers of the Redeemer. It is a hard thing to
renounce all that flatters, all that pleases, all
that charms. It is hard to be told incessantly
of difficulties to be surmounted, of enemies to
be encountered, of a cross to be borne, of cru
cifixion to be endured. It is hard for a man to
mortify himself, while all around him are re
joicing; while they are refining on pleasure;
while they are employing their utmost inge
nuity to procure new amusements; while they
are distilling their brain to diversify their de
lights; while they are spending life in sports,
in feasting,- in gayety, in spectacle on spec
tacle. The conflict is long, it is violent, I ac
knowledge it; but it draws to a period; but
your cross shall be followed by the same tri
umph which that of your Saviour was: " Fa
ther, the hour is come, glorify thy Son:" but
you, in expiring on your cross; you shall with
holy joy and confidence commend your soul
to God, as he commended his, and, closing
your eyes in death, say, " Father! into thy
hands I commend my spirit," Luke xxiii. 46;
but the angels shall descend to receive that de
parting spirit, to convey it to the bosom of
your God; and after having rejoiced in your
conversion, they shall rejoice together in your
beatitude, as they rejoiced in his; but in the
great day of the restitution of all things, you
shall ascend on the clouds of heaven, as Jesus
Christ did; you shall be exalted, like him, far
above all heavens; and you shall assume, to
gether with him, a seat on the throne of the
majesty of God.

VOL. II.— 29

Thus it is that the cross of Christ forms us
to the sentiments of our apostle; thus it is
that we are enabled to say, " The world is cru
cified unto us, and we are crucified unto the
world:" thus it is that the cross conducts us to
the true glory. O glorious cross! thou shalt
ever be the object of my study, and of my me
ditation! I will propose to myself to know
nothing, save Jesus Christ and him cruci
fied! " God forbid that I should glory, save
in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by
whom the world is crucified unto me, and I
unto the world!" May God grant us this
grace! Amen.

SERMON LXXX.

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

PART I.

HEBREWS ii. 14, 15.

Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of
flesh and blood, he also hitnself likewise took
part of the same; that through death he might
destroy him that had the power of death, that
is, the devil; and deliver them who through
fear of death ivere all their life-time subject to
bondage.

To know what death is, without being terri
fied at it, is the highest degree of perfection
attainable by the human mind; it is the high
est point of felicity which a man can reach,
while in this valley of tears. I say, to know
death without fearing it; and it is in the union
of these two things we are to look for that ef
fort of genius so worthy of emulation, and that
perfection of felicity so much calculated to
kindle ardent desire. For to brave death
without knowing what it is; to shut our eyes
against all that is hideous in its aspect, in order
to combat it with success, this is so far from in
dicating a superior excellency of disposition,
that it must be considered rather as a mental
derangement; so far from being the height of
felicity, it is the extreme of misery.

We have seen philosophers shaking off (if
after all they did so in reality, and if that in
trepid outside did not conceal a trembling
heart,) we have seen philosophers shaking off
the fear of death; but they did not know it.
They viewed it only under borrowed aspects.
They figured it to themselves, as either re
ducing the natsure of man to a state of annihi
lation, or as summoning him before chimerical
tribunals, or as followed by a certain imagina
ry felicity.

We have seen heroes, as the world calls
them, pretending to brave the terrors of death;
but they did not know it: they represented it
to themselves as crowned with laurels, as de
corated with trophies, as figuring on the page
of the historian.

We have seen, and still see every day, liber
tines pretending to brave the terrors of death,
but they know it not. Their indolence is the
cause of that assumed firmness; and they are
incapable of enjoying tranquillity, but by ban
ishing the idea of a period, the horror of which
thej are unable to overcome. But not to dis
guise this formidable object; to view it in ita

226

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

[SER. LXXX

true light; to fix the eye steadily on every fea
ture; to have a perception of all its terrors; in
a word, to know what death is, without being
terrified at it, to repeat it once more, is the
highest degree of perfection attainable by the
human mind; it is the highest point of felicity
which a man can reach while in this valley of
tears.

Sovereign wisdom, my brethren, forms his
children to true heroism. That wisdom effects
what neither philosophers by their false max
ims, nor the heroes of the world by their af
fected intrepidity, nor the libertine by his in
sensibility and indolence; that wisdom effects
what all the powers in the universe could not
have produced, and alone bestows on the
Christian the privilege of knowing death with
out fearing it. All this is contained in the
words which I have read as the subject of the
present discourse: " through fear of death, men
were all their life-time subject to bondage:"
there is the power of death; there his empire;
there his triumph. Jesus Christ, " through his
death, has destroyed him that had the power
of death, that is the devil, and delivers them
who through fear of death were all their life
time subject to bondage:" Behold death van
quished! there are his spoils; there is the tri
umph over him: salutary ideas! which will pre
sent themselves in succession to our thoughts
in the sequel of this exercise. " Forasmuch
then as the children are partakers of flesh and
blood, he also himself likewise took part of
the same; that through death he might destroy
him that had the power of death, that is the
devil: and deliver them who through fear of
death were all their life-time subject to bon-

rith respect to the first words, " forasmuch
as the children are partakers of flesh and blood,
he also himself likewise took part of the same,"
I shall only remark, that by the children referred
to, we are to understand men in general, and
believers in particular: and by that flesh and
blood we are not to understand corruption, as
in some other passages of Scripture, but hu*
man nature; so that when it is said, " as the
children are partakers of flesh and blood, Je
sus Christ likewise took part of the same,"
the meaning is, he assumed a body such as
ours is.

Having made tnese few short remarks on
the first words, we shall confine ourselves to
the two ideas which have been indicated, and
shall employ what remains of our time, in
proving this fundamental truth, that Jesus
Christ, " by his death, has destroyed him that
had the power of death, that is, the devil, in
order that he might deliver them who through
fear of death were all their life-time subject to
bondage."

The terrors of death are expressed in terms
powerfully energetical, in this text. It repre
sents to us a mighty tyrant causing death to
march at his command, and subjecting the
whole universe to his dominion. This tyrant
is the devil. He is the personage here de-
cribed, and who, " through the fear of death,
subjects men to bondage."

You stand aghast, no doubt, on beholding
the whole human race reduced to subjection
under a master so detestable. The fact, how

ever, cannot be called in question; this great
enemy of our salvation unquestionably exer
cises a sort of empire over the universe.
Though the Scriptures speak sparingly of the
nature and functions of this malignant spirit,
they say enough of them to convey a striking
| idea of his power, and to render it formidable
I to us. The Scripture tells us, I. That he
: tempts men to sin; witness the wiles which he
, practised on our first parents; witness that
which St. Paul says of him in chap. ii. of the
Epistle to the Ephesians, " the spirit that work-
eth in the children of disobedience;" witness
the name of Tempter given to him in the gospel
history, Matt. iv. 3. The Scripture informs
us, II. That he accuses men before God of
those very crimes which he solicited them to
commit; witness the prophet Zechariah, who
was " showed Joshua the high-priest, standing
before the angel of the Lord, and Satan stand
ing at his right hand to resist him;" or, as it
might have been rendered, to be his adversary
or accuser: witness the descriptive appellation
of calumniator or accuser given him by St.
John in the Apocalypse. The Scripture tells
us, III. That he sometimes torments men; wit
ness the history of Job; witness what St. Paul
says of his " delivering up unto Satan" the in
cestuous person at Corinth. This power of
delivering up to Satan, to mention it by the
way, was a part of the miraculous gifts confer
red on the apostle; gifts transmitted to the im
mediately succeeding ages of the church, at
least if Pauliness is to be credited on this sub
ject,* who relates that an abandoned wretch
was, by St. Ambrosius, delivered up to Satan,
who tore him in pieces. Finally, IV. We find
the devil designated in Scripture, " the god of
the world," 2 Cor. iv. 4, and " the prince of
the power of the air," Eph. ii. 2. You like
wise see him represented as acting on the wa
ters of the sea, as raising tempests, and as smi
ting the children of men with various kinds of
plagues.

But if the devil be represented as exercising
an influence over the ills of human life, he is
still more especially represented as exerting his
power over our death, the last and the most
formidable of all our woes. The Jews were
impressed with ideas of this kind. Nay, they
did not satisfy themselves with general notions
on this subject. They entered into the detail
(for, my brethren, it has been an infirmity in
cident to man in every age, to assert confident
ly on subjects the most mysterious and conceal
ed,) they said that the devil, to whom they
gave the name of Samuel, f had the empire of
death:" that his power extended so far as to
prevent the resurrection of the wicked. St.
Paul, in the words of our text, adopts their
mode of expression, as his custom is, without
propagating their error: he describes the evil
spirit as the person who possesses the empire of
death, and who, " through the fear of death,
subjects men all their life -time to bondage."

But Christians, be not dismayed at behold
ing this fearful image. " Surely there is no
enchantment against Jacob, neither is there
any divination against Israel," Numb, xxiii. 23.

* Paulin. de Vit. Ambros.
f Thalm. in Libo. Capht.

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

227

" Now is come salvation and! strength, and the
kingdom of our God, and the power of his
Christ; for the accuser of our brethren is cast
down, which accused them before our God day
and night. And they overcame him by the
blood of the Lamb," Rev. xii. 10, 11. Let us
however, reduce our reflections on the subjeci
to method. Three considerations render death
formidable to man; three considerations disarm
death in the apprehension of the Christian
1. The veil which conceals from the eyes of
the dying person, the state on which he is
about to enter: 2. The remorse of conscience
which the recollection of his guilt excites: 3.
The loss of titles, honours, and every other
earthly possession. In these respects chiefly,
" he who has the power of death subjects men
to bondage:" these are the things which ren
der death formidable.

In opposition to this, the death of Jesus
Christ, 1. Removes the veil which concealed
futurity from us, and constitutes an authentic
proof of the immortality of the soul: 2. The
death of Jesus Christ is a sacrifice presented to
divine justice for the remission of our sins: 3.
The death of Jesus Christ gives us complete
assurance of a blessed eternity. These are the
three considerations which disarm death in the
apprehension of the dying believer. And this
is a brief abstract of the important truths deli
vered in this text.

The devil renders death formidable, through
uncertainty respecting the nature of our souls;
the death of Christ dispels that terror, by de
monstrating to us that the soul is immortal.
The devil renders death formidable by awaken
ing the recollection of past guilt; the death of
Jesus Christ restores confidence and joy, for it
is the expiation of all our sins. The devil
clothes death with terror, by rendering us sen
sible to the loss of those possessions of which
death is going to deprive us; the death of Jesus
Christ tranquillizes the mind, because it is a
pledge to us of an eternal felicity. The first
of these ideas represents Jesus Christ to us as
a martyr, who has sealed with his own blood a
doc-trine which rests entirely on the immortali
ty of the soul. The second represents him as
a victim, offering himself in our stead, to di
vine justice. And the third represents him as
a conqueror, who has, by his death, acquired
for us a kingdom of everlasting bliss.

Had we nothing farther in view, than to pre
sent you with vague ideas of the sentiments of
the sacred authors, on this subject, here our
discourse might be concluded. But these
truths, treated thus generally, could make but
a slight impression. It is of importance to
press them one by one, and, opposing in every
particular, the triumph of the Redeemer, to
the empire of the wicked one, to place in its
clearest point of light, the interesting truth
contained in our text, namely, that Jesus Christ,
" through his own death, has destroyed him
who had the power of death, that is, the devil;
that he might deliver them who, through fear
of death, were all their life-time subject to
bondage."

I. The first consideration which renders
death formidable: the first yoke imposed OR
the necks of the children of men, by that tre
mendous prince who " has the power of death,"

is the fear of falling back into nothing, which
the prospect of death awakens. The greatest
of all the advantages which we possess, and
that which indeed is the foundation of all the
rest, is existence. We accordingly observe
that old people, though all their faculties are
much impaired, always enjoy a certain name
less superiority over young persons. The re
flection that there was a time when they ex
isted, while as yet the young did not exist,
constitutes this superiority; and young persons,
in their turn, feel a superiority suggested to
them by the thought, that a time is coming
when they shall exist, whereas the others shall
be no more. Death terminates, to appearance,
an advantage which is the foundation of every
other. And is it any wonder that the heart of
man should sink under such a consideration?

In vain will we flee for refuge from this de
pressing reflection, to the arguments which
reason, even a well-directed reason, supplies.
If they are satisfying of themselves, and cal
culated to impress the philosophic mind, they
are far beyond the reach of a vulgar under
standing, to which the very terms spirituality
and existence are barbarous and unintelligible.
To no purpose will we have recourse to what
has been said on this subject, by the most en
lightened of the pagan world, and to what, in
particular, Tacitus relates of Seneca,* on his
going into the bath which was to receive the
blood, as it streamed from his opened veins: he
besprinkled the bystanders with the fluid in
which his limbs were immerged, with this me
morable expression, that he presented those
drops of water as a libation to Jupiter the De
liverer. In order to secure us against terrors
so formidable, we must have a guide more safe
than our own reason. In order to obtain a per
suasion of the immortality of the soul, we
must have a security less suspicious than that
of a Socrates or a Plato. Now that guide,
my brethren, is the cross of Jesus Christ: that
security is an expiring Redeemer. Two prin-
iples concur in the demonstration of all-im
portant truth.

1. The doctrine of Jesus Christ establishes
the immortality of the soul.

2. The death of Jesus Christ is an irresisti
ble proof of the truth of his doctrine.

1. That the doctrine of Jesus Christ estab-

ishes the immortality of the soul is a point

which no one pretends to dispute with us. A

man has but to open his eyes in order to be

convinced of it. We shall, accordingly, make

>ut a single remark on this head. It is this,

hat the doctrine of the immortality of the soul

>ught not to be considered merely as a particu-

ar point of the religion of Jesus Christ, inde-

>endent of which it may subsist as a complete

whole. It is a point without which Christianity

cannot exist at all, and separated from which

he religion of Jesus Christ, the fullest, the

most complete, and the most consistent that

iver was presented to the world, becomes the

most imperfect, barren, and inconsistent. The

hole fabric of the gospel rests on this founda-

ion, that the soul is immortal. Wherefore

was it that Jesus Christ, the Lord of universal

nature, had a manger for his cradle, and a sta-

'Annal.Lib.xr.

228

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

[SER. LXXX.

ble for his palace? because nis "kingdom was
not of this world," John xviii. 16. This sup
poses the immortality of the soul. Wherefore
is the Christian encouraged to bid defiance to
tyrants, who may drag him from a prison, from
a dungeon, who may nail him to a cross, who
may mangle his body on a wheel? It is because
their power extends no farther than to the
" killing of the body," Matt. x. 28, while the
soul is placed far beyond their reach. This
supposes immortality. Wherefore must the
Christian deem himself miserable, were he to
achieve the conquest of the whole world, at
the expense of a good conscience? Because it
will " profit a man nothing to gain the whole
world, if he lose his own soul," Matt. xvi. 26.
This supposes immortality. Wherefore are we
not the most miserable of all creatures? Be
cause " we have hope in Christ not for this life
only," 1 Cor. xv. 19. This supposes immor
tality. The doctrine of Jesus Christ, therefore,
establishes the truth of the immortality of the
soul.

2. But we said, in the second place, that the
death of Jesus Christ is a proof of his doctrine.
He referred the world to his death, as a sign by
which it might be ascertained whether or not
he came from God. By this he proposed to
stop the mouth of incredulity. Neither the
purity of his life, nor the sanctity of his deport
ment, nor the lustre of his miracles had as yet
prevailed so far as to convince an unbelieving
world of the truth of his mission. They must
have sign upon sign, prodigy upon prodigy.
Jesus Christ restricts himself to one: " Destroy
this temple, and within three days I will build
it up again," Mark xiv. 58. "An evil and
adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and
there shall no sign be given to it, but the sign
of the prophet Jonas," Matt. xii. 39. This
sign could not labour under any ambiguity.
And this sign was accomplished. There is no
longer room to doubt of a truth demonstrated
in a manner so illustrious.

Our ancestors devised,* with greater simpli
city, it must be allowed, than strength of rear
soning, a very singular proof of the innocence
of persons accused. They presented to them a
bar of hot iron. If the person under trial had
the firmness to grasp it, and received no injury
from the action of the burning metal, he was
acquitted of the charge. This proof was, as
we have said, devised with more simplicity than
strength of reasoning: no one having a right to
suppose that God will perform a miracle, to
evince his innocence to the conviction of his
judges. I acknowledge at the same time, that
had I been an eye-witness of such an experi
ment; had I beheld that element which dis
solves, which devours bodies the most obdurate,
respecting the hand of a person accused of a
crime, 1 should certainly have been very much
struck at the sight of such a spectacle.

But what shall we say of the Saviour of the
world, after the proof to which he was put?
He "walked through the fire without being
burnt," Isa. xliii. 2. He descended into the
bosom of the grave: the grave respected him,
and those other insatiables which never say " it
is enough," Prov. xxx. 16, opened a

Rasquier Recher. de la France, liv. iv, 2.

for his return to the light. You feel the force
of this argument. Jesus Christ, having died in
support of the truth of a doctrine entirely found
ed on the supposition of the immortality of the
soul, there is no longer room to doubt whether
the soul be immortal.

Let us here pause for a few moments, and
before we enter on the second branch of our
subject, let us consider how far this position, so
clearly proved, so firmly established, has a ten
dency to fortify us against the fears of death.

Suppose for an instant that we knew nothing
respecting the state of souls, after this life is
closed, and respecting the economy on which we
must then enter; supposing God to have granted
us no revelation whatever on this interesting
article, but simply this, that our souls are im
mortal, a slight degree of meditation on the
case, as thus stated, ought to operate as an in
ducement rather to wish for death, than to fear
it. It appears probable that the soul, when
disengaged from the senses, in which it is now
enveloped, will subsist in a manner infinitely
more noble than it could do here below, during
its union with matter. We are perfectly con
vinced that the body will, one day, contribute
greatly to our felicity; it is an essential part of
our being, without which our happiness must
be incomplete. But this necessity, which fet
ters down the functions of the soul, on this
earth, to the irregular movements of ill-assort
ed matter, is a real bondage. The soul is a
prisoner in this body. A prisoner is a man sus
ceptible of a thousand delights, but who can
enjoy, however, only such pleasures as are com
patible with the extent of the place in which
he is shut up: his scope is limited to the capa
city of his dungeon: he beholds the light only
through the aperture of that dungeon: all his
intercourse is confined to the persons who ap
proach his dungeon. But let his prison-doors
be thrown open; from that moment, behold him
in a state of much higher felicity. Thencefor
ward he can maintain social intercourse with
all the men in the world; thenceforward he
can contemplate an unbounded body of light;
thenceforward he is able to expatiate over the
spacious universe.

This exhibits a portrait of the soul. A pri
soner to the senses, it can enjoy those delights
only which have a reference to sense. It can
see only by means of the cuticles and the fibres
of its eyes: it can hear only by means of the ac
tion of the nerves and tympanum of its ears: it
can think only in conformity to certain modifi
cations of its brain. • The soul is susceptible of
a thousand pleasures, of which it has not so
much as the idea. A blind man has a soul ca
pable of admitting the sensation of light; if he
be deprived of it, the reason is, his senses are
defective, or improperly disposed. Our suils
are susceptible of a thousand unknown sensa
tions; but they receive them not, in this econo
my of imperfection and wretchedness, because
it is the will of God that they should perceive
only through the medium of those organs, and
that those organs, from their limited nature,
should be capable of admitting only limited
sensations.

But permit the soul to expatiate at large, let
it take its natural flight, let these prison walls
be broken down, O, then! the soul becomes

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

229

capable of ten thousand inconceivable new de
lights. Wherefore do you point to that ghastly
corpse? Wherefore deplore those eyes closed to
the light, those spirits evaporated, that blood
frozen in the veins, that motionless, lifeless
mass of corruption? Why do you say to me,
"My friend, my father, my spouse is no more;
he sees, he hears, he acts no longer." He sees
no longer, do you say? He sees no longer, I
grant, by means of those visual rays which
were formed in the retina of the eye; but he
sees as do those pure intelligences which never
were clothed with mortal flesh and blood. He
hears no more through the medium of the ac
tion of the ethereal fluid, but he hears as a pure
spirit. He thinks no longer through the inter
vention of the fibres of his brain; but he thinks
from his own essence, because, being a spirit,
the faculty of thought is essential to him, and
inseparable from his nature.

SERMON LXXX.

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

PART II.

HEBREWS ii. 14, 15

Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of
flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took
part of the same: that through death he might
destroy him that had the power of death, that is,
the devil: and deliver them who through fear of
death were all their life- time subject to bondage.
IN discoursing from these words, we observed,
Jiat death is rendered formidable to man, by a
threefold consideration, and that three conside
rations of an opposite nature strip him of all
his terrors, in the eye of the believer in Christ
Jesus. Death is formidable, 1. Because of the
veil which conceals from the eyes of the dying
person, that state on which he is about to
enter. 2. From remorse of conscience, which
the recollection of past guilt excites. 3. From
the loss of titles, honours, and all other earthly
possessions.

In opposition to these, the death of Christ,
1. Removes the veil which conceals futurity,
and constitutes an authentic proof of the im
mortality of the soul. 2. It is a sacrifice pre
sented to divine justice for the remission of sin.
3. It gives us complete assurance of a blessed
eternity. These are the considerations which
disarm death of his terrors to the dying believer.
We have finished what was proposed on the
first particular, and have shown, 1. That the
doctrine of Jesus Christ fully establishes the
soul's immortality; and, 2. That the death of
Jesus Christ is an irresistible proof of the truth
of his doctrine.

But to no purpose would it be to fortify the
mind against the apprehension of ceasing to
exist, unless we are delivered from the terror
of belig for ever miserable. In vain is it to
have demonstrated that our souls are immortal,
if we are haunted with the well-grounded ap
prehension of their falling into the hands of
that God who " is a consuming fire." In this
case, what constitutes a man's greatness would
constitute his misery. Let us endeavour,

II. In the second place, to dissipate the
dreadful apprehension which a guilty con
science awakens in the prospect of judgment
to come. Having considered Jesus Christ as a
martyr, who sealed with his own blood the doc
trine which he preached, and his death as an
argument in support of the immortality of the
soul taught in that doctrine; let us contemplate
our divine Saviour as a victim, which God has
substituted in our place, and his death as a
sacrifice offered up to divine justice, for the ex
piation of our offences.

One of the principal dangers to be avoided
in controversies, and particularly in that which
we are going to handle, is to imagine that all
arguments are of equal force. Extreme care
must be taken to assign to each its true limits,
and to say, this argument proves thus far, that
other goes so much farther. We must thus
advance step by step up to truth, and form, of
those arguments united, a demonstration so
much the more satisfactory, in proportion as
we have granted to those who dispute it, all
that they could in reason ask. On this princi
ple we divide our arguments into two classes.
The first we propose only as presumptions in
favour of the doctrine of the satisfaction. To
the second we ascribe the solidity and weight
of demonstration. Of the first class are the
following:

I. We allege human reason as a presump
tive argument in support of the doctrine which
we maintain. We do not mean to affirm, that
human reason derives from the stores of her
own illumination the truth of this doctrine.
So far from that we confidently affirm, that
this is one of the mysteries which are infinitely
beyond the reach of human understanding. It
is one of " the things which eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the
heart of man," 1 Cor. ii. 9. But we say that
this mystery presents nothing that shocks hu
man reason, or that implies a shadow of con
tradiction. What do we believe? That God
has united the human nature to the divine, in
the person of Jesus Christ, in a manner some
what resembling that in which he has united
the body to the soul, in the person of man.
We say that this composition (pardon the ex
pression,) this composition of Humanity and
of Deity suffered in what was human of it; and
that what was divine gave value to the suffer
ings of the man, somewhat after the manner
in which we put respect on a human body, not
as a material substance, but as united to an
intelligent soul.

These are the terms in which we propose
our mystery. And there is nothing in this
which involves a contradiction. Jf we had
said that the Divinity and Humanity were con
founded or common; if we had said that
Deity, who is impassible, suffered; if we had
said that Jesus Christ as God made satisfaction
to Jesus Christ as God, reason might have
justly reclaimed; but we say that Jesus Christ
suffered as man; we say that the two natures
in his person were distinct; we say that Jesus
Christ, suffering as a man, made satisfaction
to God maintaining the rights of Deity. This
is the first step we advance in this career.
Our first argument we carry thus far, and no
farther.

230

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

[SER. LXXX

II. Our second argument is taken from the
divine justice. We say that the idea which we
have of the divine justice presents nothing in
consistent with the doctrine we are endeavour
ing to establish, but on the contrary leads us
directly to adopt it. The divine justi6e would
be in opposition to our doctrine, did we affirm
that the innocent Jesus suffered as an innocent
person; but we say that he suffered, as loaded
with the guilt of the whole human race. The
divine justice would be in opposition to our
doctrine, did we affirm that Jesus Christ had
" the iniquity of us all laid upon him," whether
he would or not; but we say that he took this
heavy load upon himself voluntarily. The di
vine justice would be in opposition to our doc
trine, did we affirm that Jesus Christ took on
himself the load of human guilt, to encourage
men in the practice of sin; but we say that he
acted thus in the view of sanctifying them, by
procuring their* pardon. The divine justice
would be in opposition to our doctrine did we
affirm that Jesus Christ, in assuming the load
of our guilt, sunk under the weight of it, so
that the universe, for the sake of a few guilty
wretches, was deprived of the most distinguish
ed being that could possibly exist; but we say
that Jesus Christ, in dying for us, came off
victorious over death and the grave. The di
vine justice, therefore, presents nothing incon
sistent with the doctrine of the satisfaction.

But we go much farther, and affirm, that the
idea of divine justice leads directly to the doc
trine. The atonement corresponds to the de
mands of justice. We shall not here presume
to determine the question, whether it is possi
ble for God, consistently with his perfections,
to pardon sin without exacting a satisfaction.
Whatever advantage we might have over those
who deny our thesis, we shall not press it on
the present occasion. But, in any case, they
must be disposed to make this concession, that
if the wisdom of God has devised the means
of obtaining a signal satisfaction to justice, in
unison with the most illustrious display of
goodness; if he can give to the universe an,,
unequivocal proof of his abhorrence of sin, in
the very act of pardoning the sinner; if there
be a method to keep offenders in awe, even
while mercy is extended to them, it must un
doubtedly be more proper to employ such a
method than to omit it. This is the second
step we advance towards our conclusion. Our
second argument we carry thus far, and no
farther.

3. Our third consideration is taken from the
suggestions of conscience, and from the prac
tice of all nations. Look at the most polished,
and at the most barbarous tribes of the human
race; at nations the most idolatrous, and at
those which have discovered the purest ideas
on the subject of religion. Consult authors of
the remotest antiquity, and authors the most
recent: transport yourself to the ancient Egyp
tians, to the Phenicians, to the Gauls, to the
Carthaginians, and you will find that, in all
ages, and in every part of the globe, men have
expressed a belief that the Deity expected sa
crifices should be offered up to him: nay, not
only sacrifices, but such as had, as far as it was
possible, something like a proportion to his
greatness. Hence those magnificent temples;

hence those hecatombs; hence those human
victims; hence that blood which streamed on
the altars, and so many other rites of religious
worship, the existence of which no one is dis
posed to call in question. What consequence
do we deduce from this position? The truth
of the doctrine of the atonement? No: we do
not carry our inference so far. We only con
clude, that there is no room to run down the
Christian religion, if it instructs us that God
demanded satisfaction to his justice, by an
expiatory sacrifice, before he could give an un
restrained course to his goodness. This third
argument we carry thus far, and no farther.

4. A fourth reflection hinges on the corres
pondence of our belief, respecting this par
ticular, with that of every age of the Christian
church, in uninterrupted succession, from Jesus
Christ down to our own times. All the ages
of the Christian world have, as we do, spoken
of this sacrifice. But we must not enlarge.
Whoever wishes for complete information on
this particular, will find a very accurate collec
tion of the testimonies of the fathers, at the
end of the treatise on the satisfaction, com
posed by the celebrated Grotius. The doctrine
of the atonement, therefore, is not a doctrine
of yesterday, but has been transmitted from
age to age, from Jesus Christ down to our own
times. This argument we carry thus far and
no farther.

Here then we have a class of arguments
which, after all, we would have you to consi
der only as so many presumptions in favour of
the doctrine of the atonement. But surely
we are warranted to proceed thus far, at least,
in concluding; a doctrine in which human rea
son finds nothing contradictory: a doctrine
which presents nothing repugnant to the di
vine attributes, nay, to which the divine at
tributes directly lead us; a doctrine perfectly
conformable to the suggestions of conscience,
and to the practice of mankind in every age,
and of every nation; a doctrine received in
the Christian church from the beginning till
now; a doctrine which, in all its parts, pre
sents nothing but what is entirely worthy of
God, when we examine it at the tribunal of
our own understanding: such a doctrine con
tains nothing to excite our resentment, no
thing that we ought not to be disposed to ad
mit, if we find it clearly laid down in the Scrip
tures.

Now, my brethren, we have only to open
the Bible in order to find express testimonies
to this purpose; and not only do we meet
with an infinite number of passages in which
the doctrine is clearly taught, but a multitude
of classes of such passages.

1 . In the first class, we must rank all those
passages which declare that Jesus Christ died
for us. It would be no easy matter to enu
merate them; " I delivered unto you first of
all," says St. Paul in his first epistle to the
Corinthians, xv. 3, " that which I also receiv
ed, how that Christ died for our sins, according
to the Scriptures." " Christ also hath once
suffered for sins," says St. Peter, in his first

pistle general, iii. 18, "the just for the un
just, that he might bring us to God."

2. In a second class must be ranked those
passages which represent Jesus Christ as suf-

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

231

fering the punishment which we had deserved.
The fifty-third chapter of the prophet Isaiah
turns entirely on this subject; and the apostles
hold the self-same language. They say ex
pressly that Christ " was made to be sin for
us, who knew no sin," 2 Cor. v. 21, that he
was " made a curse for us," Gal. iii. 13, that
he " bare our sins in his own body on the tree,"
1 Pet. ii. 24.

3. In a third class must be ranked all those
passages in which our salvation is represented
as being the fruit of Christ's death. The per
sons, whose opinions we are combating, main
tain themselves on a ground which we esta
blished in a former branch of this discourse,
namely, that the death of Jesus Christ was a
demonstration of the truth of his doctrine.
They say that this is the reason for which our
salvation is considered as the effect of that
death. But if we are saved by the death of
Jesus Christ, merely because it has sealed a
doctrine which leads to salvation, how comes
it then, that our salvation is nowhere ascrib
ed to the other parts of his ministry, which
contributed, no less than his death, to the con
firmation of his doctrine? Were not the mira
cles of Jesus Christ, for example, proofs equal
ly authentic as his death was, of the truth of
his doctrine? Whence comes it, that our salva
tion is nowhere ascribed to them? This is the
very thing we are maintaining. The resurrec
tion, the ascension, the miracles were absolute
ly necessary to give us assurance, that the
wrath of God was appeased; but Christ's death
alone was capable of producing that effect.
You will more sensibly feel the force of this
argument, if you attend to the connexion
which our text has with what follows in the
17th verse, " Wherefore in all things it behov
ed him to be made like unto his brethren; that
he might be a merciful and faithful high priest
.... to make reconciliation for the sins of
the people."

If we are saved by the death of Jesus Christ,
merely because that event sealed the truth of
his doctrine, wherefore should it have been
necessary for huT: to assume our flesh? Had
he descended from heaven in the effulgence of
his glory; had he appeared upon Mount Zion,
such as he was upon Mount Sinai, in flashes
of lightning, with the voice of thunder, with a
retinue of angels; would not the truth of the
gospel have been established infinitely better
than by the death of a man? Wherefore, then,
was it necessary that Christ should die? It was
because the victim of our transgressions must
be put to death. This is St. Paul's reasoning.
And for this reason it is that our salvation is
nowhere ascribed to the death of the martyrs,
though the death of the martyrs was, like that
of Jesus Christ, a proof of the truth of the
gospel.

4. In a fourth class, must be ranked all
those passages which represent the death of
Jesus Christ as the body and the reality, of
which all the sacrifices prescribed by the law
were but the figure and the shadow. We
shall select a single one out of a multitude.
The greatest part of the Epistle to the He
brews may be quoted to this effect. It is evi
dent that the gieat object of its author is to
engage Christians to look for that in the sacri

fice of Jesus Christ, which the Jews, to no pur
pose, sought for in those which Moses pre
scribed. Now what did the Jews look for in
their sacrifices? Was it not the means of ap
peasing the Deity? If, therefore, the sacrifices
of the Jews were the expiation of sin, only in
figure and in a shadow, if the sacrifice of Jesus
Christ be their body and reality, does it not
follow that Jesus Christ has really and literally
expiated our transgressions? To pretend that
the Levitical sacrifices were not offered up for
the expiation of great offences, but only for
certain external indecencies, which rather pol
luted the flesh, than wounded the conscience,
is an attempt to maintain one error by another;
for a man has only to open his eyes, to be con
vinced that the Levitical sacrifices were offered
up for offences the most atrocious; it is need
less to adduce any other evidence than the an
nual sacrifice prescribed, Lev. xvi. 21, 22, in
the offering of which, Aaron " laid both his
hands upon the head of the live goat, and con
fessed over him all the iniquities of the chil
dren of Israel, and all their transgressions in
all their sins .... and the goat did bear upon
him all their iniquities."

5. In a fifth class must be ranked the cir
cumstances of the passion of Jesus Christ, and
of his agony in the garden; that sorrow, those
fears, those agitations, those cries, those tears,
that bloody sweat, those bitter complaints:
" My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken
me?" Matt. xxvi. 46. The argument derived
from this will appear of still greater weight,
if you support it by thus reflecting, that no
person in the universe ought to have met
death with so much joy as Jesus Christ, had
he suffered a mere ordinary death. Christ
died with a perfect submission to the will of
his father, and with a fervent love to mankind.
Christ died in the full assurance of the justice
of his cause, and of the innocency of his life.
Christ died completely persuaded of the im
mortality of the soul, and of the certainty of
a life to come. Christ died under a complete
assurance of the exalted felicity which he was
to enjoy after death. He had come from God.
He was returning to God. Nay, there ought to
have been something more particular in his tri
umph, than in that of the generality of believ
ers. Because he had " made himself of no
reputation;" God was about " to give him a
name which is above every name." A cloud
was going to serve him as a triumphal car,
and the church triumphant was preparing to
receive him with acclamations of joy, " Lift
up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up,
ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory
shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7.

What then, arc we to expect that Jesus
Christ shall do? Shall we behold him advanc
ing to meet death with joy? Shall he not say
with St. Paul, " My desire is to depart? Shall
he not in rapture exclaim, " This day crowns
are to be distributed, and I go to receive my
share?" No, Jesus Christ trembles, he turns
pale, he fears, he sweats great drops of blood:
whereas the martyrs, with inferior illumina
tion, with feebler motives, have braved death,
have bidden defiance to the most horrid tor
ments, have filled their tormentors with aston
ishment. Whence comes this difference? From

232

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

[SER. LXXX.

the very point which we are endeavouring to
establish. The death of Jesus Christ is wide
ly different from that of the martyrs. The
martyrs found death already disarmed: Jesus
Christ died to disarm this king of terrors. The
martyrs presented themselves before the throne
of grace; Jesus Christ presented himself at the
tribunal of Justice. The martyrs pleaded the
merits of Christ's death: Jesus Christ interced
ed in behalf of the martyrs.

Let the great adversary, then, do his worst
to terrify me with the image of the crimes
which I have committed; let him trace them
before my eyes in the blackest characters
which his malignity can employ; let him col
lect into one dark point, all that is hideous and
hateful in my life; let him attempt to over
whelm me with dismay, by rousing the idea of
that tremendous tribunal, before which all the
actions of men are to be scrutinized, so that
like "Joshua the high-priest," I find myself
standing in the presence of God, " clothed
with filthy garments," Zech. iii. 1, &c. and
Satan standing at his right hand to expose my
turpitude; I hear, at the same time, the voice
of one pleading in my behalf: I hear these re
viving words: " is not this a brand plucked
out of the fire? .... Take away the filthy
garments from him .... Let them set a
fair mitre upon his head .... and I will
clothe him with change of raiment."

SERMON LXXX.

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

PART III.

HEBREWS ii. 14, 15.

Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of
flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took
part of the same; that through death he might
destroy him that had the poicer of death, that is,
the devil; and deliver them who through fear
of death were all their life-time subject to bond
age.

WE now come in the

III. Third and last place, to consider death
rendered formidable, from its being attended
with the loss of titles, honours, and every other
earthly possession, and in opposition to this,
we are to view the death of Jesus Christ as re
moving that terror, by giving us complete as
surance of a blessed eternity. We are going
to contemplate death as a universal shipwreck,
swallowing up all our worldly fortunes and
prospects. We are going to contemplate Je
sus Christ as a conqueror, and his death as the
pledge and security of a boundless and ever
lasting felicity, which shall amply compensate
to us the loss of all those possessions, of which
we are about to be stripped by the unsparing
hand of death.

When we attempt to stammer out a few
words from the pulpit, respecting the felicity
which God has laid up for his people in ano
ther world, we borrow the images of every
thing that is capable of touching the heart, and
of communicating delight. We call in to our
assistance the soul of man, with all its exalted
faculties; the body, with all its beautiful forms

and proportions; nature, with her overflowing
treasures; society, with its enchanting delights;
the church, with its triumphs; eternity, with
its unfathomable abysses of joy. Of all these
ingredients blended, we compose a faint repre
sentation of the celestial blessedness.

The soul of man constitutes one ingredient,
and we say, In heaven your soul shall arrive
at its highest pitch of attainable perfection: it
shall acquire expansive illumination, it shall
reach sublime heights of virtue, it shall " be
hold as in a glass the glory of the Lord, and
shall be changed into the same image, from
glory to glory," 2 Cor. iii. 18.

The body furnishes a second ingredient, and
we say, In heaven your body shall be exempted
from all the defects by which it is at present
disfigured, from those diseases which now prey
upon and waste it, from that death which de
stroys the fabric.

Nature supplies a third ingredient, and we
say, In heaven all the stores of Nature shall
be displayed in rich profusion: " the founda
tions of the holy city are of jasper, its gates
are of pearl, its walls are of pure gold," Rev.
xxi. 21.

Society supplies a fourth ingredient, and we
say, In heaven shall be united, in the tender-
est social bonds, kindred spirits the most exalt
ed; souls the most refined; hearts the most
generous and enlarged.

The church supplies a fifth ingredient, and
we say, In heaven shall be exhibited the tri
umph of the faithful over tyrants confounded,
the saints shall be enthroned, the martyrs shall
appear with palms in their hands, and with
crowns upon their heads.

Eternity supplies a sixth ingredient, and we
say, In heaven you shall enjoy a felicity infi
nite in its duration, and immeasurable in its
degree; years accumulated upon years, ages
upon ages, shall effect no diminution of its
length: and so of the rest.

This day, Christians, in which we are rep
resenting death to you as a universal wreck
which swallows up all your possessions, your
titles, your greatness, your riches, your social
connexions, all that you were, and all that you
hoped to be; this day, while we are attempt
ing to convey to you an idea of the celestial
felicity, capable of strengthening you to be
hold, without dismay, this universal wreck, in
which you are going to be involved; this day
we could wish you to conceive the heavenly
world, and the blessedness which God is there
preparing for you under another idea. We
mean to trace another view of it, the lustre of
which effaces all the rest. We build upon
this foundation of St Paul: " He that spared
not his own Son, but delivered him up for us
all, how shall he not with him also freely give
us all things?" Rom. viii. 32. The heavenly
blessedness is the purchase of the death of Je
sus Christ. Here collect, my brethren, every
thing that is capable of enhancing to your ap
prehension the unspeakable greatness and im
portance of that death.

View the death of Christ relatively to the
types which prefigured it; relatively to the sha
dows by which it was adumbrated; relatively
to the ceremonies by which it was represent
ed; relatively to the oracles which predicted it

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

233

View the death of Christ relatively to the
tempests and thunderbolts which were levelled
at the head of the Redeemer. Behold his
soul overwhelmed with sorrow; behold that
blood falling down to the ground; that cup of
bitterness which was given him to drink;
hearken to that insulting language, to those
calumnies, to those false accusations, to that
unjust sentence of condemnation; behold those
hands and feet pierced with nails, that sacred
body speedily reduced to one ghastly wound;
behold that licentious rabble clamorously de
manding the punishment of the cross, and in
creasing the horror of it by every indignity
which malice could invent; look up to heaven
itself, and behold the eternal Father abandon
ing the Son of his love to so many woes; be
hold hell in concert with heaven, and heaven
with the earth.

View the death of Christ relatively to the
dreadful signs by which it was accompanied;
"datively to that earth seized with trembling,
to that sun shrouded in darkness, to those
rocks rent asunder, to those opening graves,
to those departed saints returning to the light
of day.

View the death of Christ relatively to the
greatness of God, and to the littleness of man,
in whose behalf all this bloody scene was
transacted

Collect all these various particulars, and
still say to yourself, The death of Jesus Christ
is all this. The death of Jesus Christ. is the
body of the figures, the original of the types,
the reality of the shadows, the accomplishment
of the prophecies. The death of Jesus Christ
is that great event which darkened the sun,
which opened the tombs, which rent asunder
the rocks, which made the earth to tremble,
which turned nature and the elements upside
down. Follow up these reflections, and on
these let your imagination settle.

The death of Jesus Christ conceived thus,
apply it to the subject which we are treating.
The death of Jesus Christ conceived thus, let
it serve to assist you in forming an idea of the
heavenly blessedness. Still build on this
foundation of St. Paul; say with that apostle,
" He that spared not his own Son, but delivered
him up for us all, how shall he not with him
also freely give us all things?" You regret the
world; you who are advancing on your way
heavenward. And what is heaven? It is the
purchase of Christ's death. " He that spared
not his own Son, but delivered him up for us
all, how shall he not with him also freely give
us all things?" If the means be thus great,
what must the end be! If the preparatives be
thus magnificent, what must be the issue! If
the conflict be thus sharp, what must be the
victory! If the price be thus costly, what, O
what, shall be the bliss which this price is in
tended to purchase.

After that, my brethren, return to the
world. — What is it you regret' Are you re
gretting the loss of palaces, of sceptres, of
crowns? It is to regret the humble crook in
your hand, the cottage which covers your
head. Do you regret the loss of society, a
society whose defects and whose delights are
frequently an equal source of misery to you?
Ah! phantom of vain desire, will you still pre-
VOL. II.— 30

sent illusion to the eye? Will you still main
tain your ground against those solid blessings
which the death of Jesus Christ has purchased
for us? Ah! " broken cisterns," will you still
preserve a preference in our esteem to " the
fountain of living waters?" Ah! great High
Priest of the new covenant, shall we still find
it painfully difficult to follow thee, whilst thou
art conducting us to heavenly places, by the
bloody traces of thy cross and martyrdom.
Jesus Christ is a "conqueror," who has ac
quired for us a kingdom of glory and felicity;
his death is an invaluable pledge of a trium
phant eternity.

Death, then, has nothing, henceforward,
that is formidable to the Christian. In the
tomb of Jesus Christ are dissipated all the ter
rors which the tomb of nature presents. In
the tomb of nature I perceive a gloomy night,
which the eye is unable to penetrate; in the
tomb of Jesus Christ I behold light and life.
In the tomb of nature the punishment of sin
stares me in the face; in the tomb of Jesus
Christ I find the expiation of it. In the tomb
of nature I read the fearful doom pronounced
upon Adam, and upon all his miserable posteri
ty: " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou
return," Gen. iii. 19; but in the tomb of Jesus
Christ my tongue is loosed into this triumphant
song of praise, " O death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory? .... Thanks
be to God who giveth us the victory, through
our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. xv. 55. 57.
" Through death he has destroyed him that
had the power of death, that is, the devil;
that he might deliver them who through fear
of death were all their life-time subject to
bondage."

THE APPLICATION.

But if these be our privileges, is it not mat
ter of reproach to us, my brethren, that
brought up in the knowledge and profession
of a religion which furnishes arms so powerful
for combating the terrors of death, we should
still, for the most part, view it only with fear
and trembling? The fact is too evident to be
denied. From the slightest study of by far the
greatest part of professing Christians, it is
clearly apparent that they consider death as
the greatest of all calamities. And with a
very slender experience of the state of dying
persons, it will be found that there are few,
very few indeed, who die without regret, few
but who have need to exercise all their sub
mission, at a season when it might be expected
they should give themselves up to transports
of joy. A vapour in the head disconcerts us;
we are alarmed if the artery happens to beat
a little faster than usual; the least apprehen
sion of death inspires us with an unaccounta
ble melancholy, and oppressive dejection.

But those apprehensions and terrors, my
brethren, surprising as they may appear to us,
have nothing which ought really to fill us
with surprise. If to apply to a man's self the
fruits of the death of Jesus Christ were a sim
ple act of the understanding, a simple move
ment of the heart, a simple acknowledgment
of the tongue; if to apply to a man's self the
fruits of the death of Christ were nothing more
than what a hardened sinner is capable of

234

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

[SER. LXXX.

figuring to himself, or than what is prescribed
to him by an accommodating casuist, you
would not see a single Christian afraid of death.
But you know it well, the gospel assures you
of it, and the dictates of your own conscience
confirm the truth, to make application of the
fruits of Christ's death is a complication of du
ties, which require attention, time, labour, in-
tenseness of exertion, and must be the business
of a whole life. The greatest part of those
who bear the Christian name, neglect this
work while in health; is it any wonder that
they should tremble when overtaken by the
hour of death?

Call to remembrance the three ways in
which Christ has disarmed death. He has
spoiled the king of terrors, by demonstrating
to us the immortality of the soul, by making
atonement for our transgressions, by acquiring
for us an eternal felicity.

But what effect will the death of Christ
have upon us, as a proof of the doctrine of the
immortality of the soul, unless we study those
proofs, unless we seriously meditate upon
them, unless we endeavour to feel their force,
unless we guard against the difficulties which
the unhappy age we live in opposes to those
great principles?

What effect can the death of Christ have
upon us, as a sacrifice offered up to divine jus
tice for our sins, unless we feel the plenitude
of that sacrifice, unless we make application of
it to the conscience, unless we present it to
God in the exercises of a living faith; above
all, unless by the constant study of ourselves,
unless by unremitting, by persevering exer
tion, we place ourselves under the terms, and
invest ourselves with the characters of those
who have a right to apply to themselves the
fruits of this sacrifice?

What effect can the death of Christ produce
upon us, considered as the pledge of a blessed
eternity, unless the soul be powerfully im
pressed with that eternity, unless the heart be
penetrated with a sense of what it is; if we
are at pains to efface the impression which
those interesting objects may have made upon
us; if hardly moved by those great truths
which ought to take entire possession of the
mind, we instantly plunge ourselves into the
vortex of worldly pursuits, without taking time
to avail ourselves of that happy disposition,
and, as it were, purposely to withdraw from
those gracious emotions which seemed to have
laid hold of us? Ah! my brethren, if such be
the conduct of the generality of professing
Christians, as we are under the necessity of
admitting, when, not satisfied with observing
their deportment in the house of God, and
from a pulpit, we follow them into life, and
look through those flimsy veils of piety and
devotion which they had assumed for an hour
in a worshipping assembly; if such, I say, be
the conduct of the generality of professing
Christians, their terror at the approach of death
exhibits nothrng to excite astonishment.

The grand conclusion to be deduced, my
brethren, from all these reflections, is not an
abstract conclusion and of difficult comprehen-
•ion: it is a conclusion easy, natural, and
which would spontaneously present itself to
the mind, were we not disposed to practise de

ception upon ourselves; the grand conclusion
to be deduced from these reflections is this: If
we wish to die like Christians, we must live
like Christians. If we would wish to behold
with firmness the dissolution of this body, we
must study the proofs which establish the
truth of the immortality of the soul, so as to
be able to say with St. Paul, " I know whom
I have believed, and I am persuaded he is able
to keep that which I have committed unto
him against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. Would
we wish to have a security against fear at that
tremendous tribunal, before which we must
appear to receive judgment, we must enter
into the conditions of the covenant of grace,
that we may be able to say with the same
apostle, "I am the chief of sinners, a blasphe
mer, and a persecutor, and injurious; but I
obtained mercy," 1 Tim. i. 13. Would we be
strengthened to resign, without murmuring,
all the objects around us, and to which we are
so fondly attached, we must learn to disengage
ourselves from them betimes; to place our
heart betimes where our treasure is, Matt. vi.
21, that we may be able to say with the
Psalmist, " Whom have I in heaven but thee?
and there is none upon earth that I desire be
sides thee," Ps. Ixxiii. 25.

If after we have exerted our utmost efforts,
we still find our frail flesh and blood com
plaining at the prospect of approaching disso
lution; if the heart still repines at the hard
necessity imposed upon us of dying; let us
strive to recover confidence, not only against
this apprehension, but likewise against the
doubts which it might excite against our sal
vation. This fear of death is, in such a case,
not a crime, but an infirmity. It is indeed a
melancholy proof that we are not yet perfect,
but it is not a blot which obliterates our Chris
tianity. It is an expression of timidity, not of
mistrust. It is a calamity which prevents our
enjoying all the sweets of a triumphant death,
but not an obstacle to prevent our dying in
safety. Let us be of good courage. What
have we to fear? God is an affectionate friend,
who will not desert us in the hour of adversity.
God is not a cruel being, who takes pleasure
in rendering us miserable. He is a God
whose leading characters are goodness and
mercy. He stands engaged to render us hap
py. Let us not distrust his promise; it has
been ratified by the most august zeal which
suspicion itself could exact, by the blood of the
spotless Lamb, which is sprinkled, not on the
threshold of our doors, but on our inmost con
science. The exterminating angel will re
spect that blood, will presume to aim no stroke
at the soul which bears the mark of it.

After all, my dearly beloved brethren, if
the most advanced Christians, at the first
glimpse of death, and in the first moments of a.
mortal distemper, are unable to screen them
selves from the fear of death; if the flesh mur
murs, if nature complains, if faith itself seems
to stagger; reason, religion, but especially the
aid of God's spirit, granted to the prayers, to
the importunities ascending to heaven from
;he lips of such a Christian, dissipate all those
terrors. The mighty God suffers himself to
je overcome, when assailed by supplication
and tears. God resists not the sighs of a be-

SER. LXXX.]

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

235

liever, who from his bed of languishing stretches
out his arms towards him, who entreats him to
sanctify the sufferings which he endures, who
implores his support in the agonies of death,
who cries out from the centre of a soul trans
ported with holy confidence, " Into thine hand
I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me,
O Lord God of truth," Ps. xxxi. 5. Receive
it, O my God. Remove from me those phan
toms which disturb my repose. Raise me up,
take me to thyself. ""Teach my hands to war,
and my fingers to fight. Draw me, I shall
run after thee." Kindle my devotion; and let
my inflamed desires serve as a chariot of fire
to transport me to heaven. The clouds, thick
ened around me by " Him who had the power
of death," are scattering; the veil which cov
ered eternity insensibly withdraws; the under
standing is convinced; the heart melts; the
flame of love burns bright; the return of holy
meditations, which formerly occupied the soul,
disclose the grand object of religion, and the

bed of death is transformed into a field of vic
tory. Many of your pastors, Christians, have
been the joyful spectators of such a triumph.

May all who hear me this day be partakers
of these divine consolations! May that in
valuable sacrifice which Jesus Christ offered
up to his father in our behalf, by cleansing us
from all our guilt, deliver us from all our fears!
May this great High Priest of the new covenant
bear engraven on his breast all these mystical
Israelites, now that he is entered into the
holiest of all! And when these foundations of
sand, on which this clay tabernacle rests, shall
crumble away from under our feet, may we all
be enabled to raise our departing spirits out of
the ruins of the world, that they may repose
in the mansions of immortality ! Happy, beyond
expression, beyond conception happy, to die
in such sentiments as these! God of his in
finite mercy grant it may be our blessed attain
ment! To him be honour and glory for ever.
Amen,

SERMONS

OP THE

REV. JAMES SAURIN,

TRANSLATED

BY THE REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE.

PREFACE,

BY THE REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE.

SAURIN'S SERMONS, one hundred and sixty-
eight in number, are comprised in twelve vo
lumes. I have read them with edification and
delight. Actuated by these sentiments, 1
doubted whether I could better employ my
leisure moments than in preparing an additional
volume, to those already before the English
reader.

The three Discourses on the Delay of Con
version, are a masterly performance, and in
general, a model of pulpit eloquence. They
are not less distinguished by variety and
strength of argument, than by pathos and unc
tion: and they rise in excellence as the reader
proceeds. Hence, I fully concur in opinion
with Dupont, and the succeeding editors, who
have given the first place to these Discourses:
my sole surprise is, that they were not trans
lated before. Whether they were reserved to
ornament a future volume, or whether the ad
dresses to the unregenerate were deemed too
severe and strong, I am unable to determine.
By a cloud of arguments derived from reason,
from revelation, and from experience, our au
thor certainly displays the full effusions of his
heart, and in language unfettered by the fear
of man. The regular applications in the first
and second Sermons, are executed in such a
style of superior merit, that I lament the defi
ciency of language to convey his sentiments
with adequate effect.

On the subject of warm and animated ad
dresses to wicked and unregenerate men, if I
might be heard by those who fill the sanctuary,
I would venture to say, that the general cha
racter of English sermons is by far too mild
and calm. On reading the late Dr. Enfield's
English Preacher, and finding on this gentle
man's tablet of honour1, names which constitute
the glory of our national church, I seem un
willing to believe my senses, and ready to deny,
that Tillotson, Atterbury, Butler, Chandler,
Coney beare, Seed, Sherlock, Waterland, and
others, could have been so relaxed and un
guarded as to have preached so many sermons
equally acceptable to the orthodox and the
Socinian reader. Those mild and affable re
commendations of virtue and religion; those
gentle dissuasives from immorality and vice,
have been found, for a whole century, unpro
ductive of effect. Hence, all judicious men
must admit the propriety of meeting the awful
vices of the present age with remedies more
efficient and strong.

Our increase of population, our vast extent
of commerce, and the consequent influx of
wealth and luxury, have, to an alarming de
gree, biassed the national character towards
dissipation, irreligion, and vice. We see a
crowd of families rapidly advanced to afflu
ence, and dashing away in the circles of gay
and giddy life; we see profane theatres, assem
bly-rooms, and watering-places, crowded with
people devoted to pleasure, and unacquainted

with the duties they owe to God; we see a me
tropolis, in which it is estimated that not more
than one adult out of fifteen attends any place
of divine worship. Ought not ministers so cir
cumstanced, to take the alarm, and to weep
for the desolations of the sanctuary? If impiety
and effeminacy were, confessedly, the causes
of the desolation of Greece and Rome, ought
we not to be peculiarly alarmed for our coun
try? and while our brave warriors are defend
ing it abroad, endeavour to heal at home the
evils which corrode the vitals? Ought we not
to adopt a mode of preaching like that which
first subdued the enemies of the cross? If our
former mode of preaching has failed of, effect;
if the usual arguments from Scripture have no
weight; ought we not to modify those argu
ments according to existing circumstances,
that, fighting the sinner on the ground of
reason, and maintaining the rights of God at
the bar of conscience, we may vanquish the
infidelity of his heart? The wound must be
opened before he will welcome the balm of
Calvary, and be enraptured with the glory and
fulness of the gospel. Hence, I am fully of
opinion that we ought to go back to the purest
models of preaching; that addressing the sinner
in the striking language of his own heart, we
may see our country reformed, and believers
adorned with virtue and grace.

But, though our author be an eminent model
in addressing the unregenerate, he is by no
means explicit and full on the doctrines of the
Spirit: his talents were consequently defective
in building up believers, and edifying the
church. It is true, he is orthodox and clear,
as far as he goes: and he fully admits the
Scripture language on the doctrine of assu
rance; but he restricts the grace to some high
ly favoured souls, and seems to have no idea of
"ts being the general privilege of the children
of God. Hence this doctrine which especially
abounds in the New Testament, occupies only
a diminutive place in his vast course of Ser
mons. On this subject, indeed, he frankly con
fesses his fears of enthusiasm; and, to do him
justice, it seems the only thing he feared in
the pulpit.

But, however prepossessing and laudable this
caution may appear in the discussion of mys
terious truths, it by no means associates the
ideas we have of the divine compassion, and
the apprehensions which awakened persons
entertain on account of their sins. Conscious
of guilt on the one hand, and assured on the
other that the wages of sin is death, mere evan
gelical arguments are inadequate to allay their
fears, and assuage their griefs. Nothing will
do but a sense of pardon, sufficiently clear and
strong to counteract their sense of guilt. No
thing but the love of God shed abroad in the
heart, can disperse their grief and fear, Rom.
v. 5; Luke xxiv. 32; 1 John iv. 18. Nothing
but the Spirit of adoption can remove the spirit

240

PREFACE BY THE REV. J. SUTCLIFFE.

of bondage, by a direct assurance that we are
the children of God, Rom. viii. 15, 16. Every
awakened sinner needs, as much as the inspired
prophet, the peace which passeth all under
standing, to compose his conscience; the Spirit
of holiness to regenerate his heart; the Spirit of
grace and supplication, to assist him in prayer;
the love of Christ which passeth knowledge,
and the joy unspeakable and full of glory, to
adopt the language of praise and thanksgiving,
which seem to have been the general senti
ments of the regenerate in acts of devotion.
That is the most satisfactory ground of assu
rance, when we hope to enjoy the inheritance,
because we have the earnest; and hope to
dwell with God, because he already dwells
with us, adorning our piety with the corres
pondent fruits of righteousness. Revelation
and reason here perfectly accord: Jlsk, and ye
shall receive; seek, and ye shall find. If ye
being evil, know how to give good things to
your children, how much more shall your Fa
ther, which is in heaven, give good things to
them that ask him. Hence, SAURIN, on this
subject, was by far too contracted in restricting
this grace to a few highly favoured souls.

Farther still, it is not enough for a minister
to beat and overpower his audience with argu
ments; it is not enough that many of his hear
ers weep under the word, and form good reso
lutions for the future; they must be encou
raged to expect a blessing before they depart
from the house of God. How is it that the
good impressions, made on our hearers, so ge
nerally die away; that their devotion is but as
the morning cloud? After making just de
ductions for the weakness and inconstancy of
men; after allowing for the defects which bu
siness and company produce on the mind, the
grand cause is, the not exhorting them to look
for an instantaneous deliverance by faith. In
many parts of the Scriptures, and especially in
the Psalms, the supplicants came to the throne
of grace in the greatest trouble and distress, and
they went away rejoicing. Now, these Psalms
I take to be exact celebrations of what God did
by providence and grace for his worshippers.*4
Hence we should exhort all penitents to expect
the like deliverance, God being ready to shine
on all hearts the moment repentance has pre
pared them for the reception of his grace.

Some may here object that many well-dis
posed Christians, whose piety has been adorn
ed with benevolence, have never, on the sub
ject of assurance, been able to express them
selves in the high and heavenly language of
inspired men; and that they have doubted,
whether the knowledge of salvation by the remis
sion of sins, Luke i. T7, were attainable in this
life. Perhaps, on inquiry, those well-disposed
Christians, whose sincerity I revere, have sat
under a ministry, which scarcely went so far
on the doctrines of the spirit as SAURIN. Per
haps they have sought salvation, partly by
their works, instead of seeking it solely by
faith in the merits, or righteousness, of Jesus
Christ. Perhaps they have joined approaches
to the altars of God, with the amusements of
the age; and always been kept in arrears in

their reckonings with Heaven. Perhaps their
religious connexions have hindered, rather than
furthered, their religious attainments. If these
sincere Christians were properly assisted by
experienced people; if some Jlquila and Pris-
cilla were to expound unto them the way of God
more perfectly, Acts xviii. 26, they would
soon emerge out of darkness into marvellous
light; they could not long survey the history
of the Redeemer's passion, without loving him
again: they could not review his victories
without encouragement; they could not con
template the effusions of his grace, without a
participation of his comfort. They would soon
receive

" What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart- felt joy."

Another defect of our author (if my opinion
be correct,) is, that he sometimes aims at ora
torical strokes, and indulges in argument and
language not readily comprehended by the bet
ter instructed among, the poor. This should
caution others. True eloquence is the voice of
nature, so rich in thought, so abundant in mo
tives, and happy in expression, as to supersede
redundant and meretricious ornament. It un
folds the treasures of knowledge, displays the
amiableness of virtue, and unveils the defor
mity of vice, with the utmost simplicity and
ease. It captivates the mind, and sways the
passions of an audience in addresses apparently
destitute of study or art: art, indeed, can never
attain it; it is the soul of a preacher speaking
to the heart of his hearers. However, SAURIN
ought to have an indulgence which scarcely
any other can claim. He addressed at the
Hague an audience of two thousand persons,
composed of courtiers, of magistrates, of mer
chants, and strangers, who were driven by per
secution from every part of France. Hence
it became him to speak with dignity appropri
ate to his situation. And if, in point of pure
eloquence he was a single shade below Mas-
sillon, he has far exceeded him as a divine.

With regard to the peculiar opinions of the
religious denominations, this venerable minis
ter discovered superior knowledge, and admi
rable moderation. Commissioned to preach
the gospel to every creature, he magnifies the
love of God to man; and charges the sinner
with being the sole cause of his own destruc
tion (Sermon, Hosea xiii. 9.) Though he as
serts the perseverance of the saints, it is, never
theless, with such restrictions as tend to avoid
disgusting persons of opposite sentiments.
Against Antinomianism, so dangerous to salva
tion, he is tremendously severe: and it were
to be wished that the supporters of these opi
nions would profit by his arguments. It is
much safer to direct our efforts, that our
hearers may resemble the God they worship,
than trust to a mere code of religious opinions,
dissonant to a multitude of Scriptures.

May Heaven bless to the reader this addi
tional mite to the store of public knowledge,
and make it advantageous to his best interests,
and eternal joy!

JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE.

Halifax, Nov. 21, 1805.

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

241

SERMON LXXXL

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

PART I.

ISAIAH Iv. 6.

Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye
upon him while he is near.

THAT is a singular oath, recorded in the tenth
chapter of the Revelation. St. John saw an
angel; an angel " clothed with a cloud; a rain
bow encircled his head, his countenance was as
the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire. He
stood on the earth and the sea. He sware by him
that liveth for ever and ever, that there should
be time no longer." By this oath, if we may
credit some critics, the angel announces to
the Jews, that their measure was full, that
their days of visitation were expired, and that
God was about to complete, by abandoning
them to the licentious armies of the emperor
Adrian, the vengeance he had already begun
by Titus and Vespasian.

We will not dispute this particular notion,
but shall consider the oath in a more extended
view. This angel stands upon the earth and
the sea; he speaks to all the inhabitants of the
world: he lifts his voice to you, my brethren,
and teaches one of the most terrific, but most
important truths of religion and morality, that
the mercy of God, so infinitely diversified, has,
notwithstanding, its restrictions and bounds.
It is infinite, for it embraces all mankind. It
makes no distinction between " the Jew and
the Greek, the Barbarian and the Scythian."
It pardons insults the most notorious, crimes
ihe most provoking; and extricating the sinner
from the abyss of misery, opens to him the
way to supreme felicity. But it is limited.
When the sinner becomes obstinate, when he
long resists, when he defers conversion, God
shuts up the bowels of his compassion, and re
jects the prayer of those who have hardened
themselves against his calls.

From this awful principle, Isaiah deduces
the doctrine which constitutes the subject of
our text. " Seek ye the Lord while he may
be found, call ye upon him while he is near."
Dispensing with minuteness of method, we
shall not stop to define the terms, " Seek ye
the Lord, and call ye upon him." Whatever
mistakes we may be liable to make on this
head, and however disposed we may be to con
found the appearance of conversion with con
version itself, errors of this kind, it must be
acknowledged, are not the most destructive.
We propose to-day to probe the wound, to
penetrate to the source of our depravity, to
dissipate, if possible, the illusive charm which
destroys so many of the Christian world, and
of which Satan too successfully avails himself
for their seduction. This delusion, this charm,
I appeal to your consciences, consists of, I
know not what, confused ideas we have formed
of the divine mercy, fluctuating purposes of
conversion on the brink of futurity, and chi
merical confidence of success whenever we
shall enter on the work.

On the delay of conversion, we shall make a
VOL. II.— 31

series of reflections, derived from three sources:
From man; — from the Scriptures; — and from
experience. We shall have recourse in order,
to religion, history, and experience, to make
us sensible of the dangerous consequences of
deferring the work. In the first place, we shall
! endeavour to prove from our own constitution,
that it is difficult, not to say impossible, to be
converted after having wasted life in vice. —
We shall secondly demonstrate that revela
tion perfectly accords with nature on this head;
and that whatever the Bible has taught con
cerning the efficacy of grace, the supernatural
aids of the Spirit, and the extent of mercy,
favour in no respect the delay of conversion.
Thirdly, we shall endeavour to confirm the
doctrines of reason and revelation, by daily ob
servations on those who defer the change. —
These reflections would undoubtedly produce a
better effect delivered in one discourse than di
vided, and I would wish to dismiss the hearer
convinced, persuaded, and overpowered with
the mass of argument; but we must proportion
the discourse to the attention of the audience,
and to our own weakness. We design three
discourses on this subject, and shall confine our
selves to-day to the first head.

" Seek ye the Lord while he may be found,
call ye upon him while he is near." On this
subject, to be discussed in order, shall our voice
resound for the present hour; if Providence
permit us to ascend this pulpit once more, it
shall be resumed: if we ascend it the third
time, we will still cry, " Seek ye the Lord
while he may be found, call ye upon him while
he is near." If a Christian minister ought to
be heard with attention, if deference ought to be
paid to his doctrine, may this command change
the face of this church! May the scales fall
from our eyes! and may the spiritually blind
recover their sight!

Our mind, prevented by passion and preju
dice, requires divine assistance in its ordinary
reflections; but now attacking the sinner in his
chief fort and last retreat, I do need thy invin
cible power, O my God, and I expect every aid
from thy support.

I. Our own constitution shall supply us to
day with arguments on the delay of conversion.
It is clear that we carry in our own breast prin
ciples which render conversion difficult, and I
may add, impossible, if deferred to a certain
period. To comprehend this, form in your
mind an adequate idea of conversion, and fully
admit, that the soul, in order to possess this
state of grace, must acquire two essential dis
positions; it must be illuminated; it must be
sanctified. It must understand the truths of
religion, and conform to its precepts.

First. You cannot become regenerate unless
you know the truths of religion. Not that we
would preach the gospel to you as a discipline
having no object but the exercise of specu
lation. We neither wish to make the Chris
tian a philosopher, nor to encumber his mind
with a thousand questions agitated in the
schools. Much less would we elevate salva
tion above the comprehension of persons of
common understanding; who, being incapable
of abstruse thought, would be cut off from the
divine favour, if this change required profound
reflection, and refined investigation. It can-

242

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

. LXXXI.

not, however, be disputed, that every man
should be instructed according to his situation
in life, and according to the capacity he has
received from heaven. In a word, a Christian
ought to be a Christian, not because he has
been educated m the principles of Christianity
transmitted by his fathers, but because those
principles came from God.

To have contrary dispositions, to follow a
religion from obstinacy or prejudice, is equally
to renounce the dignity of a man, a Christian,
arjd a Protestant: — The dignity of a man, who,
endowed with intelligence, should never de
cide on important subjects without consulting
his understanding, given to guide and conduct
him: — The dignity of a Christian; for the gos
pel reveals a God who may be known, John iv.
22; it requires us to " prove all things, and to
hold fast that which is good," 1 Thess. v. 21.
The dignity of a Protestant; for it is the
foundation and distinguishing article of the
Reformation, that submission to human creeds
is a bondage unworthy of him whom the " Son
has made free." Inquiry, knowledge, and in
vestigation, are the leading points of religion,
and the first step, so to speak, by which we are
to "seek the Lord."

The second disposition is sanctification. The
truths proposed in Scripture for examination
and belief, are not presented to excite vain spe
culations, or gratify curiosity. They are truths
designed to produce a divine influence on the
heart and life. "He that saith, I know him,
and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar.
If you know these things, happy are you, if
you do them. Pure religion and undefiled be
fore God and the Father, is this, to visit the
fatherless and the widows in their affliction,"
1 John ii. 4; John xiii. 17; James i. 27. When
we speak of Christian obedience, we do not
mean some transient acts of devotion; we mean
a submission proceeding from a source of ho
liness, which, however mixed with imperfec
tion in its efforts, piety is always the predomi
nant disposition of the heart, and virtue tri
umphant over vice. 4

These two points being so established, that
no one can justly dispute them, we may prove,
I am confident, from our own constitution, that
a conversion deferred ought always to be sus
pected; and that, by deferring the work, we
risk the forfeiture of the grace. — Follow us in
these arguments.

This is true, first, with regard to the light
essential to conversion. Here, my brethren,
it were to have been wished, that each of you
had studied the human constitution; that you
had 'attentively considered the mode in which
the soul and body are united, the close ties
which subsist between the intelligence that
thinks within, and the body to which it is
united. We are not pure spirit; the soul is a
lodger in matter, and on the temperature of this
matter depends the success of our researches
after truth, and consequently after religion.

Now, my brethren, every season and every
period of life are not alike proper for disposing
the body to the happy temperature, which
leaves the soul at liberty for reflection and
thought. The powers of the brain fail with
years, the senses become dull, the spirits eva-
po ate, the memory weakens, the blood chills

in the veins, and a cloud of darkness envelopes
all the faculties. Hence the drowsiness of
aged people: hence the difficulty of receiving
new impressions; hence the return of ancient
objects; hence the obstinacy in their senti
ments; hence the almost universal defect of
knowledge and comprehension; whereas peo
ple less advanced in age have usually an easy
mind, a retentive memory, a happy concep
tion, and a teachable temper. If we, there
fore, defer the acquisition of religious know
ledge till age has chilled the blood, obscur
ed the understanding, enfeebled the memory,
and confirmed prejudice and obstinacy, it is
almost impossible to be in a situation to acquire
that information without which our religion
can neither be agreeable to God, afford us solid
consolation in affliction, nor motives sufficient
against temptation.

If this reflection do not strike you with suffi
cient force, follow man in the succeeding pe
riods of life. The love of pleasure predomi
nates in his early years, and the dissipations of
the world allure him from the study of reli
gion. The sentiments of conscience are heard,
however, notwithstanding the tumult of a
thousand passions: they suggest that, in order
to peace of conscience, he must either be reli
gious, or persuade himself that religion is alto
gether a phantom. What does a man do in
this situation? He becomes either incredulous
or superstitious. He believes without exami
nation and discussion, that he has been edu
cated in the bosom of truth; that the religion
of his fathers is the only one which can be
good; or rather, he regards religion only on
the side of those difficulties which infidels op
pose, and employs all his strength of intellect
to augment those difficulties, and to evade
their evidence. Thus he dismisses religion to
escape his conscience, and becomes an obsti
nate Atheist, to be calm in crimes. Thus he
wastes his youth, time flies, years accumulate,
notions become strong, impressions fixed in the
brain, and the brain gradually loses that sup
pleness of which we now spake.

A period arrives in which these passions
seem to subside; and as they were the sole
cause of rendering that man superstitious or
incredulous, it seems that incredulity and su
perstition should vanish with the passions. Let
us profit by the circumstance; let us endeavour
to dissipate the illusion; let us summons the
man to go back to the first source of its errors;
let us talk; let us prove; let us reason; but all
is unavailing care; as it commonly happens
that the aged talk of former times, and recol
lect the facts which struck them in their youth,
while present occurrences leave no trace on the
memory, so the old ideas continually run in
their mind.

Let us farther remark, that the soul not only
loses with time the facility of discerning error
from truth, but after having for a considerable
time habituated itself to converse solely with
sensible objects, it is almost impossible to at
tach it to any other. See that man who has
for a course of years been employed in audit
ing accounts, in examining the nature of trade,
the prudence of his partners, the fidelity of his
correspondents; propose to him, for instance,
the solution of a problem; desire him to inves-

SER. LXXXI.]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

243

tigate the cause of a phenomenon, the founda
tion of a system, and you require an impossi
bility. The mind, however, of this man, who
finds these subjects so difficult, and the mind
of the philosopher who investigates them with
ease, are formed much in the same way. All
the difference between them is, that the latter
has accustomed himself to the contemplation
of mental objects, whereas the other has vo
luntarily debased himself to sordid pursuits,
degraded his understanding, and enslaved it to
sensible objects. After having passed our life
in this sort of business, without allowing time
for reflection, religion becomes an abyss; the
clearest truth, mysterious; the slightest study,
fatigue; and, when we would fix our thoughts,
they are captivated with involuntary deviations.

In a word, the final inconvenience which re
sults from deferring the study of religion, is a
distraction and dissipation proceeding from the
objects which prepossess the mind. The va
rious scenes of life, presented to the eye, make
a strong impression on the soul; and the ideas
will obtrude even when we would wish to di
vert the attention. Hence distinguished em
ployments, eminent situations, and professions
which require intense application, are not
commonly the most compatible with salvation.
Not only because they rob us, while actually
employed, of the time we should devote to
God, but because they pursue us in defiance of
our efforts. We come to the Lord's house with
our bullocks, with our doves, with our specu
lations, with our ships, 0th our bills of ex
change, with our titles, with our equipage, as
those profane Jews whom Jesus Christ once
chased from the temple in Jerusalem. There
is no need to be a philosopher to perceive the
force of this truth; it requires no evidence but
the history of your own life. How often, when
retired to the closet to examine your conscience,
have worldly speculations interrupted your
duty! How often, when prostrated in the pre
sence of God, has this heart which you carne
to offer him, robbed you of your devotion by
pursuing earthly objects! How often, when
engaged in sacrificing to the Lord a sacrifice
of repentance, has a thousand flights of birds
come to annoy the sacred service! Evident
proof of the truth we advance! Every day we
see new objects: these objects leave ideas; these
ideas recur; and the contracted soul, unable to
attend to the ideas it already possesses, and to
those it would acquire, becomes incapable of
religious investigation. Happy is the man de
scended from enlightened parents, and instruct
ed, like Timothy, in the Holy Scriptures from
his infancy! Having consecrated his early life
to the study of truth, he has only, in a dying
and retired age, to collect the consolations of a
religion magnificent in its promises, and incon
testable in its proofs.

Hence we conclude, with regard to whatever
is speculative in our salvation, that conversion
becomes more difficult in proportion as it is de
ferred. We conclude with regard to the light
of faith, that we must " seek the Lord while
he ma}' be found, and call upon him while he
is near." We must study religion while aided
by a collected mind, and an easy conception.
We must, while young, elevate the heart above
sensible objects, and fill the soul with sacred

truths before the world has engrossed its ca
pacity.

This truth is susceptible of a much clearer
demonstration, when we consider religion with
regard to practice. And as the subject turns
on principles to which we usually pay but
slight attention, we are especially obliged to
request, if you would edify by this discourse,
that you would hear attentively. There are
subjects less connected, which may be compre
hended, notwithstanding a momentary absence
of the mind; but this requires an unremitting
attention, as we lose the whole by neglecting
the smallest part.

Remember, in the first place, what we have
already hinted, that in order to true conver
sion, it is not sufficient to evidence some par
tial acts of love to God: the principle must be
so profound and permanent, that this love,
though mixed with some defects, shall ever be
the predominant disposition of the heart. We
should not apprehend that any of you would
dispute this assertion, if we should content our
selves with pressing it in a vague and general
way; and if we had no design to draw conclu
sions directly opposite to the notions of many,
and to the practice of most. But at the close
of this discourse, unable to evade the conse
quences which follow the principle, we are
strongly persuaded you will renew the attack
on the principle itself, and deny that to which
you have already assented. Plence we ought
not to proceed before we are agreed what we
ought to believe upon this head. We ask you,
brethren, whether you believe it requisite to
love God in order to salvation? We can scarce
ly think that any of our audience will answer
in the negative; at least we should fear to
speak with much more confidence on this
point, and on the necessity of acquiring instruc
tion in order to conversion, than to supersede
the obligation of loving God, because it would
derogate from the dignity of man, who is ob
liged to love his benefactor; from the dignity
of a Christian, educated under a covenant
which denounces anathemas against those who
love not the Lord Jesus; from the dignity of a
Protestant, who cannot be ignorant how all the
divines of our communion have exclaimed
against the doctrine of Rome on the subject of
penance.

Recollect, my brethren, that we are agreed
upon this point; recollect in the subsequent
parts of this discourse, that, in order to conver
sion, we must have a radical and habitual love
to God. This principle being allowed, all that
we have to say against the delay of conversion,
Becomes self-established. The whole question
is reduced to this; if in a dying hour, if at the
extremity of life, if in a short and fleeting mo
ment, you can acquire this habit of divine love,
which we have all agreed is necessary to salva
tion; if it can be acquired in one moment, then
we will preach no more against delay: you act
with propriety. Put off, defer, procrastinate
even to the last moment, and by an extraordi
nary precaution, never begin to seek the plea
sures of piety till you are abandoned by the
Measures of the world, and satiated with its in-
"amous delights. But if time, if labour, are re
quired to form this genuine source of love to
°d, the necessity of which we have already

244

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SEE. LXXXI,

proved, you should frankly acknowledge the
folly of postponing so important a work for a
single moment; that it is the extreme of mad
ness to defer the task to a dying hour; and that
the prophet cannot too highly exalt his voice
in crying to all who regard their salvation,
" Seek ye the Lord while he may be found;
call ye upon him while he is near."

This being allowed, we proceed to establish
on two principles, all that we have to advance
upon this subject. First, we cannot acquire
any habit without performing the correspondent
actions. Language, for instance, is a thing
extremely complex. To speak, requires a
thousand playful motions of the body, a thou
sand movements to form the elements, and a
thousand sounds to perfect the articulation.
All. these at first are extremely difficult; they
appear quite impossible. There is but one way
to succeed, that is, to persevere in touching the
keys, articulating the sounds, and producing
the movements; then what seemed at first im
possible becomes surmountable, and what be
comes surmountable is made easy, and what is
once easy becomes natural: we speak with a
fluency which would be incredible were it not
confirmed by experience. The spirits flow to
the parts destined for these operations, the
channels open, the difficulties recede, the' voli
tions are accomplished; just as a stream, whose
waters are turned by the strength of hand and
aid of engines, falls by its own weight to places
where it could not have been carried but with
vast fatigue.

Secondly, when a habit is once rooted, it be
comes difficult or impossible to correct it, in
proportion as it is confirmed. We see in the
human body, that a man, by distraction or in
dolence, may suffer his person to degenerate
to a wretched situation; if he continue, his
wretchedness increases; the body takes its
mould; what was a negligence, becomes a ne
cessity; what was a want of attention, becomes
a natural and an insurmountable imperfection.
Let us apply these principles to our subject,
and avail ourselves of their force to dissipate^
if possible, the mistakes of mankind concern
ing their conversation and their virtues. Habits
of the mind are formed as habits of the body;
the mental habits become as incorrigible as
those of the latter.

First, then, as in the acquisition of a corpo
real habit, we must perform the correspondent
actions, so in forming the habits of religion, of
love, humility, patience, charity, we must ha
bituate ourselves to the duties of patience, hu
mility, and love. We never acquire these vir
tues but by devotion to their influence: it is not
sufficient to be sincere in wishes to attain them;
it is not sufficient to form a sudden resolution;
we must return to the charge, and by the con
tinued recurrence of actions pursued and re
peated, acquire such a source of holiness as
may justify us in saying, that such a man is
humble, patient, charitable, and full of divine
love. Have you never attended those power
ful and pathetic sermons, which forced convic
tion on the most obdurate hearts? Have you
never seen those pale, trembling, and weeping
assemblies? Have you never seen the hearers
affected, alarmed, and resolved to reform their
lives? And have you never been surprised to

see, after a short interval, each return to those
vices he had regarded with horror, and neglect
those virtues which had appeared to him so
amiable? Whence proceeded so sudden a
change? What occasioned a defection which
apparently contradicts every notion we have
formed of the human mind? It is here. This
piety, this devotion, those tears proceeded from
a transient cause, and not from a habit formed
by a course of actions, and a fund acquired by
labour and diligence. The cause ceasing, the
effects subside! the preacher is silent, and the
devotion is closed. Whereas the actions of
life, proceeding from a source of worldly affec
tions, incessantly return, just as a torrent, ob
structed by the raising of a bank, takes an ir
regular course, and rushes forth with impetu
osity whenever the bank is removed.

Farther, we must not only engage in the of
fices of piety to form the habits, but they must
be frequent; just as we repeat acts of vice to
form a vicious habit. Can you be ignorant,
my brethren, of the reason? Who does not feel
it in his own breast? I carry it in my own wick
ed heart; I know it by the sad tests of senti
ment and experience. The reason is obvious;
habits of vice are found conformable to our na
tural propensity; they are found already formed
within, in the germ of corruption which we
bring into the world. frt We are shapen in ini
quity, and conceived in sin," Ps. li. 7. We
make a rapid progress in the career of vice.
We arrive, without difficulty, at perfection in
the works of darknaes. A short course suffices
to become a masterin the school of the world
and of the devil; and it is not at all surprising,
that a man should at once become luxurious,
covetous, and implacable, because he carries in
his own breast the principles of all these vices.

But the habits of holiness are directly oppos
ed to our constitution. They obstruct all its
propensities, and offer, if I may so speak, vio
lence to nature. When we wish to become
converts, we enter on a double task: we must
demolish, we must build; we must demolish
corruption, before we can erect the edifice of
grace. We must level mortal blows at the old
man, before the new can be revived. We
must, like those Jews who raised the walls of
Jerusalem, work with " the sword in one hand,
and the tool in the other," Neh. iv. 17, equally
assiduous to produce that which is not, as to
destroy that which already exists.

Such is the way, and the only way, by which
we can expect the establishment of grace in the
heart; it is by unremitting labour, by perseve
rance in duty, by perpetual vigilance. Now,
who is it; who is there among you that can
enter into this thought, and not perceive the
folly of those who delay their conversion? We
imagine that a word from a minister, a pros
pect of death, a sudden revolution, will instan
taneously produce a perfection of virtue? O
wretched philosophy! extravagance of the sin
ner! idle reverie of self-love and imagination,
that overturns the whole system of original
corruption, and the mechanism of the human
frame! I should as soon expect to find a manr
who would play skilfully on an instrument
without having acquired the art by practice
and application; I should as soon expect to find
a man who would speak a language without

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

245

hav-ing studied the words, and surmounted the
fatiffue and difficulty of pronunciation. The
speech of the one would be a barbarous subject
of derision, and unintelligible; and the notes of
the other would be discords destitute of soft
ness and harmony. Such is the folly of the
man who would become pious, patient, hum
ble, and charitable, in one moment, by a sim
ple wish of the soul, without acquiring those
virtues by assiduity and care. All the acts of
piety you shall see him perform, are but emo
tions proceeding from a heart touched, indeed,
but not converted. His devotion is a rash zeal,
which would usurp the- kingdom of heaven ra
ther than take it by violence. His confession is
an avowal extorted by anguish which the Al-
/wighty has suddenly inflicted, and by remorse
of conscience, rather than sacred contrition of
heart. His charity is extorted by the fears of
death, and the horrors of hell. Dissipate these
fears, calm that anguish, appease these terrors,
and you will see no more zeal, no more chari
ly, no more tears; his heart, habituated to vice,
will resume its wonted course. This is the con
sequence of our first principle; we shall next
examine the result of the second.

We said, that when a habit is once rooted,
it becomes difficult to surmount it, and alto
gether insurmountable, when suffered to as
sume an absolute ascendancy. This principle
suggests a new reflection on the sinner's con
duct who delays his conversion; a very impor
tant reflection, which we would wish to impress
on the mind of our audience. In the early
course of vice, we sin with a power by which
we could abstain, were we to use violence;
hence we flatter ourselves that we shall pre
serve that precious power, and be able to eradi
cate vice from the heart, whensoever we shall
form the resolution. Wretched philosophy
still; another illusion of self-attachment, a new
charm of which the devil avails himself for our
destruction. Because, when we have long con
tinued in sin, when we are advanced in age,
when reformation has been delayed for a long
course of years, vice assumes the sovereignty,
and we are no longer our own masters.

You intimate to us a wish to be converted;
but when do you mean to enter on the work?
To-morrow, without farther delay. — And are
you not very absurd in deferring till to-mor
row? To-day, when you wished to undertake
it, you shrunk on seeing what labour it would
cost, what difficulties must be surmounted,
what victories must be obtained over your
selves. From this change you divert your eyes:
to-day you still wish to follow your course, to
abandon your heart to sensible objects, to fol
low your passions, and gratify your concupis
cence. But to-morrow you intimate a wish
of recalling your thoughts, of citing your wick
ed propensities before the bar of God, and pro
nouncing their sentence. O sophism of self-
esteem! carrying with it its own refutation.
For if this wicked propensity, strengthened to
a certain point, appears invincible to-day, how
shall it be otherwise to-morrow, when to the
actions of past days you shall have added those
of this day! If this sole idea, if this mere
thought of labour, induce you to defer to-day,
what is to support you to-morrow under the
real labour? Farther, there follows a conse

quence from these reflections, which may ap
pear unheard of to those who are unaccustom
ed to examine the result of a principle; but
which may perhaps convince those who know
how to use their reason, and have some know
ledge of human nature. It seems to me, that,
since habits are formed by actions, when those
habits are continued to an age in which the
brain acquires a certain consistency, correction
serves merely to interrupt the actions already
established.

It would be sufficient in early life, while the
brain is yet flexible, and induced by its own
texture to lose impressions as readily as it ac
quired them; at this age, I say, to quit the ac
tion would be sufficient to reform the habit.
But when the brain has acquired the degree of
consistency already mentioned, the simple sus
pension of the act is not sufficient to eradicate
the habit; because by its texture it is disposed
to continue the same, and to retain the impres
sions already received.

Hence, when a man has grovelled a conside
rable time in vice, to quit it is not a sufficient
reform; for him there is but one remedy, that
is, to perform actions directly opposed to those
which had formed the habit. Suppose, for in
stance, that a man shall have lived in avarice
for twenty years, and been guilty of ten acts
of extortion every day. Suppose he shall af
terward have a desire to reform; that he shall
devote ten years to the work; that he shall
every day do ten acts of charity opposite to
those of his avarice; these ten years (consider
ing the case here according to the course of
nature only, for we allow interior and super
natural aids in the conversion of a sinner, as
we shall prove in the subsequent discourses,)
would those ten acts be sufficient perfectly to
eradicate covetousness from this man? It seems
contrary to the most received maxims. You
have heard that habits confirmed to a certain
degree, and continued to a certain age, are
never reformed but by a number of opposite
actions proportioned to those which had form
ed the habit. The character before us has lived
twenty years in the practice of avarice, and but
ten in the exercise of charity, doing only ten
acts of benevolence daily during that period;
he has then arrived at an age in which he has
lost the facility of receiving new impressions.
We cannot, therefore, I think, affirm that those
ten years are adequate perfectly to eradicate
the vice from his heart. After all, sinners, you
still continue in those habits, aged in crimes,
heaping one bad deed upon another, and flat
tering yourselves to reform, by a wish, by a
glance, by a tear, without difficulty or conflict,
habits the most inveterate. Such are the
reflections suggested by a knowledge of the hu
man frame with regard to the delay of conver
sion. To this you will oppose various objec
tions which it is of importance to resolve.

You will say, that our principles are contra
dicted by experience; that we daily see persons
who have long indulged a vicious habit, and
who have renounced it at once without repeat
ing the opposite acts of virtue. The fact is
possible, it is indeed undeniable. It may hap
pen in five cases, which, when fully examined,
will be found not at all to invalidate what has
already been established.

246

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[S-ER. LXXXI.

1. A man possessing the free use of his facul
ties, may by an effort of reflection extricate
himself from a vicious habit, I allow; but we
have superseded the objection, by a case appa
rently applicable. We have cautiously antici
pated, and often assumed the solution. We
speak of those only, who have attained an ad
vanced age, and have lost the facility of acquir
ing new depositions. Have you ever seen per
sons of sixty or seventy years of age renounce
their avarice, their pride; some favourite pas
sion, or a family prejudice?

2. A man placed in a hopeless situation, and
under an extraordinary stroke of Providence,
may instantly reform a habit, I grant; but that
does not destroy our principles. We have not
included in our reflections those extraordinary
visitations which Providence may employ to
subdue the sinner. When we said that the re
formation of a vicious habit would require a
number of acts which have some proportion to
those which formed it, we supposed an equality
of impressions in those actions, and that each
action would be equal to that we wished to de
stroy.

3. A man may suddenly reform a habit on
the reception of new ideas, and on hearing
some truths of which he was ignorant before, I
also acknowledge; but this proves nothing to the
point. We spoke of a man born in the bosom
of the church, educated in the principles of
Christianity, and who has reflected a thousand
and a thousand times on the truths of religion;
and on whom we have pressed a thousand and
a thousand times the motives of repentance
and regeneration; but, being now hardened, he
can hear nothing new on those subjects.

4. A man may, I allow, on the decay of his
faculties, suddenly reform a bad habit; but what
has this to do with the renovation which God
requires? In this case, the effect of sin vanishes
away, but the principle remains. A particular
act of the bad habit yields to weakness and ne
cessity, but the source still subsists, and wholly
predominates in the man.

5. In fine, a man whose life has been a con
tinued warfare between vice and virtue; but"*
with whom vice for the most part has had the
ascendancy over virtue, may obtain in his last
sickness, the grace of real conversion. There
is, however, something doubtful in the case;
conversion on a death-bed being difficult or im
possible; because between one unconverted man
and another there is often a vast difference; the
one, if I may so speak, is within a step of the
grave, but the other has a vast course to run.
The former has subdued his habits, has already
made a progress, not indeed so far as to attain,
but so far as to approach a state of regenera
tion: this man may, perhaps, be changed in a
moment: but how can Ije, who has already
wasted life in ignorance and vice, effectuate so
great a change in a few days, or a few hours?
We have therefore proved our point that the
first objection is destitute of force.

You will, however, propose a second: you
will say, that this principle proves too much,
that if we cannot be saved without a fund and
habit of holiness, and if this habit cannot be
acquired without perseverance in duty, we ex
clude from salvation those deeply contrite sin
ners who having wasted life in vice, have now

not sufficient time to form a counterpoise to
the force of their criminal habits.

This difficulty naturally presents itself to the
mind; but the solution we give does not so
properly accord with this discourse; it shall be
better answered in the exercises which shall
follow, when we shall draw our arguments
from the Scriptures. We shall then affirm
that when a sinner groans under the burden of
his corruption, and sincerely desires conversion,
God affords his aid, and gives him supernatural
power to vanquish his sinful propensities. But
we shall prove, at the same time, that those aids
are so very far from countenancing the delay
of conversion, that no consideration can be
more intimidating to him who presumes on so
awful a course. For, my brethren, our divinity
and morality give each other the hand, the one
being established upon the other. There is a
wise medium between heresy, and I know not
what absurd and extravagant orthodoxy; and
as it is a bad maxim so to establish the precepts,
as to renounce the doctrines of Jesus Christ, it
is equally pernicious to make a breach in his
precepts, to confirm the doctrines.

The aids of the Holy Spirit, and a conscious
ness of our own weakness, are the most power
ful motives which can prompt us to labour for
conversion without delay. If conversion, after
a life of vice, depended on yourselves, if your
heart were in your power, if you had sufficient
command to sanctify yourselves at pleasurey
then you would have some reason for flattery
in this delay. But your conversion cannot be
effectuated without an extraneous cause, with"
out the aids of the Spirit of God; aids he will
probably withhold, after you shall have despised
his grace, and insulted it with obstinacy and
malice. On this head therefore, you can form
no reasonable hope.

You will draw a third objection from what
we have already allowed, that a severe afflic
tion may suddenly transform the heart. To
this principle, we shall grant that the prospect
of approaching death may make an impression
to undeceive the sinner; that the veil of cor
ruption raised at the close of life, may induce
a man to yield at once to the dictates of con
science, as one walking hastily towards a pre
cipice, would start back on removing the fatal
bandage which concealed the danger into which
he was about to fall.

On this ground, I would await you, breth
ren. Is it then on a death-bed, that you found
your hopes? We will pledge ourselves to
prove, that so far from this being the most
happy season, it is exactly the reverse. The
reflections we shall make on this subject, are
much more calculated to strike the mind than
those already advanced, which require some
penetration, but it suffices to have eyes to per
ceive the force of those which now follow.

We will not absolutely deny the possibility
of the fact on which the objection is founded.
We allow that a man, who with composure of
mind sees the decay of his earthly house, and
regards death with attentive eyes, may enter
nto the requisite dispositions. Death being
considered as near, enables him to know the
world, to discover its vanity, emptiness, and to
tal insufficiency. A man who has but a fevr
moments to live, and who sees that his honour,

SER. LXXXLj

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

247

his riches, his titles, his grandeur, and the
whole universe united for his aid, can afford
him no consolation: a man so situated knows
the vanity of the world better than the great
est philosophers, and the severest anchorets:
hence he may detach his heart. We would
ever, wish that the Deity should accept of such
a conversion, should be satisfied with one who
does not devote himself to virtue, till the occa
sions of vice are removed, and should receive
the like sinner at the extremities of life; it is
certain, however, that all these suppositions
are so far from favouring the delay of conver
sion, as to demonstrate its absurdity. — How
can we presume on what may happen in the
hour of death? Of how many difficulties is
this illusory scheme susceptible! Shall I die
in a bed calm and composed? Shall I have
presence and recollection of mind? Shall I
avail myself of these circumstances to eradi
cate vice from the heart, and to establish there
the kingdom of righteousness?

For, first, who is to guarantee that you shall
die in this situation? To how many disastrous
accidents, to how many tragic events are you
not exposed? Does not every creature, every
substance which surrounds you, menace both
your health and your life? If your hopes of
conversion are founded on a supposition of this
kind, you must fear the whole universe. Are
you in the house? you must fear its giving
way, and dissipating by the fall all your expec
tations. Are you in the open field? you must
fear lest, the earth, opening its caverns, should
swallow you up, and thus elude your hope.
Are you on the waters? you must fear to see
in every wave a messenger of death, a mi
nister of justice, and an avenger of your luke-
warmness and delay. Amidst so many well-
founded fears, what repose can you enjoy? If
any one of these accidents should overtake
you, say now, what would become of your
foolish prudence? Who is it that would then
study for you the religion you have neglected?
Who is it that would then shed for you tears
of repentance? Who is it that would then quench
for you the devouring fire, kindled against
your crimes, and ready to consume you? Is a
tragic death a thing unknown? What year
elapses undistinguished by visitations of this
kind? What campaign is closed without pro
ducing myriads?

In the second place, we will suppose that
you shall die a natural death. Have you ever
seen the dying? Do you presume that one can
be in a proper state for thought and reflection,
when seized with those presages of death,
which announce his approach? When one is
seized with those insupportable and piercing
pains which take every reflection from the
soul? When exposed to those stupors which
benumb the brightest wit, and the most pierc
ing genius? To those profound lethargies which
render unavailing, motives the most powerful,
and exhortations the most pathetic? To those
frequent reverses which present phantoms and
chimeras, and fill the soul with a thousand
alarms? My brethren, would we always wish
to deceive ourselves? Look, foolish man; look
on this pale extended corpse, look again on
this now dying carcass: where is the mind
which has fortitude to recollect itself in this

deplorable situation, and to execute the chi
merical projects of conversion?

In the third place, we will suppose that you
shall, by the peculiar favour of heaven, be vi
sited with one of those mild complaints, which
conduct imperceptibly to the grave, and unat
tended with pain; would you then be more hap
pily disposed for conversion? Are we not daily
witnesses of what passes on those occasions?
Our friends, our family, our self-esteem, all
unite to make us augur a favourable issue,
whenever the affliction is not desperate: and
not thinking this the time of death, we think
also it ought not to be the time of conversion.
After having disputed with God the fine days
of health, we regret to give him the lucid in
tervals of our affliction. We would wish him
to receive the soul at the precise moment when
it hovers on our Hps. We hope to live, and
hope inflames desire; the wish to live more and
more enroots the love we had for the world;
and " the friendship of this world is enmity
with God." Meanwhile the affliction extends
itself, the disease takes its course, the body
weakens, the spirits droop, and death arrives
even before we had scarcely thought that we
were mortal.

Fancy yourselves, in short, to die in the
most favourable situation, tranquil and -com
posed, without delirium, without stupor, with
out lethargy. Fancy also, that stripped of
prejudice, and the chimerical hope of reco
very, you should know that your end is near.
I ask whether the single thought, the sole idea,
that you shall soon die, be not capable of de
priving you of the composure essential to the
work of your salvation? Can a man habitu
ated to dissipation, accustomed to care, de
voted to its maxims, see without confusion and
regret, his designs averted, his hopes frustrated,
his schemes subverted, the fashion of the world
vanishing before his eyes, the thrones erected,
the books opened, and his soul cited before the
tribunal of the Sovereign Judge? We have
frequent occasions to observe, when attending
the sick, that those who suffer the greatest an
guish, are not always the most distressed about
their sins, however deplorable their state may
be, their pains so far engross the capacity of
the soul, as to obstruct their paying attention
to what is most awful, the image of approach
ing death. But a man who sees himself ap
proaching the grave, and looks cm his exit un
disturbed with pains; a man who considers
death as it really is, suffers sometimes greater
anguish than those which can arise from the
acutest disease.

But what shall I say of the multitude of
anxieties attendant on this fatal hour? Physi
cians must be called in, advice must be taken,
and endeavours used to support this tottering
tabernacle. He must appoint a successor,
make a will, bid adieu to the world, weep over
his family, embrace his friends, and detach his
affections. Is there time then, is there time
amid so many afflictive objects, amid the tu
mult of so many alarms; is there time to ex
amine religion, to review the circumstances of
a vanishing life, to restore the wealth illegally
acquired, to repair the tarnished reputation of
his neighbour, to repent of his sin, to examine
his heart, and weigh those distinguished mo-

248

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXI.

lives which prompt us to holiness? My breth
ren, whenever we devote ourselves entirely to
the great work; whenever we employ all our
bodily powers, all our mental faculties; when
ever we employ the whole of life it is scarcely
sufficient, how then can it be done by a busy,
wandering, troubled, and departing spirit?
Hence the third difficulty vanishes of its own
accord; hence we may maintain as permanent,
the principles we have discussed, and the con
sequences we have deduced.

Now, we are fully convinced that those of
you who know how to reason, will not dispute
these principles; I say those who know how to
reason; because it is impossible, but among two
or three thousand persons, there must be found
some eccentric minds, who deny the clearest
and most evident truths. If there are among
our hearers, persons who believe that a man
can effectuate conversion by his own strength,
it would not be proper for them to reject our
principles, and they can have no right to com
plain. If you are orthodox, as we suppose,
you cannot regard as false what we have now
proved. Our maxims have been founded on
the most rigid orthodoxy, on the inability of
man, on the necessity of grace, on original cor
ruption, and on the various objections which
our most venerable divines have opposed to
the system of degenerate casuists. Hence, as
I have said, not one of you can claim the right
of disputing the doctrine we have taught.
Heretics, orthodox, and all the world are oblig
ed to receive them, and you yourselves have
nothing to object. But we, my brethren, we
have many sad and terrific consequences to
draw; but at the same time, consequences
equally worthy of your regard.

APPLICATION.

First, you should reduce to practice the ob
servations we have made on conversion, and
particularly the reflections we have endeavour
ed to establish, that in order to be truly rege
nerate, it is not sufficient to do some partial
services for God, love must be the reigning dis
position of the heart. This idea ought to cor
rect the erroneous notions you entertain of a
good life, and a happy death, that you can nei
ther know those things in this world, nor should
you wish to know them. They are, indeed,
visionaries who affect to be offended when we
press those grand truths of religion, who would
disseminate their ridiculous errors in the church,
and incessantly cry in our ears, " Christians,
take heed to yourselves; they shake the foun
dation of faith; the doctrine of assurance is a
doctrine of fanaticism."

My brethren, were this a subject less serious
and grave, nothing would hinder us from ridi
culing all scruples of this nature. " Take heed
to yourselves, for there is fanaticism in the
doctrine:" we would press you to love God
with all your heart; we would press you to con
secrate to him your whole life; we would in
duce you not to defer conversion, but prepare
for a happy death by the continual exercise of
repentance and piety. Is it not obvious that
we ought to be cautious of admitting such a
doctrine, and that the church would be in a de
plorable condition were all her members adorned
with those dispositions? But we have said al

ready, that the subject is too grave and serious
to admit of pleasantry.

My brethren, " if any one preach to you
another gospel than that which has been preach
ed, let him be accursed." If any one will pre
sume to attack those doctrines which the sa
cred authors have left in their writings, which
your fathers have transmitted, which some of
you have sealed with your blood, and nearly
all of you with your riches and fortune; if
any one presume to attack them, let the doc
tors refute, let the ecclesiastical sword cut,
pierce, exscind, and excommunicate at a stroke
the presumptuous man. But consider also
that the end of all these truths is, to induce
mankind to love their Maker. This is so es
sential, that we make no scruple to say1, if
there were one among the different Christian
sects better calculated to make you holy than
our communion, you ought to leave this in or
der to attach yourselves hereafter to the other.
One of the first reasons which should induce us
to respect the doctrine of the incarnate God,
the inward, immediate, and supernatural aids
of the -Spirit is, that there is nothing in the
world more happily calculated to enforce the
obligation of loving God.

Return therefore, from your prejudices, irra
diate your minds, and acquire more correct
ideas of a holy life, and a happy death. On
this subject, we flatter and confuse ourselves,
and willingly exclude instruction. We ima
gine, that provided we have paid during the
ordinary course of life, a modified regard to
devotion, we have but to submit to the will of
God, whenever he may call us to leave the
world; we imagine that we have worthily ful
filled the duties of life, fought the good fight,
and have nothing to do but to put forth the
hand to the crown of righteousness. " There
is no fear," say they, " of the death of such a
Christian; he was an Israelite indeed, he was
an honest man, he led a good life." But what
is the import of the words, he led a moral life?
a phrase as barbarous in the expression as er
roneous in the sense; for if the phrase mean
any thing, it is that he has fulfilled the duties
of morality. But can you bear this testimony
of the man we have just described; of a man
who contents himself with avoiding the crimes
accounted infamous in the world; but exclu
sively of that, he has neither fervour, nor zeal,
nor patience, nor charity? Is this the man,
who, you say, has led a moral life? What
then is the morality which prescribes so broad
a path? Is it not the morality of Jesus Christ?
The morality of Jesus Christ recommends si
lence, retirement, detachment from the world.
The morality of Jesus Christ requires, that
you " be merciful, as God is" merciful; that
you be perfect, as your Father which is in hea
ven is perfect." The morality of Jesus Christ
requires, that you " love God with all your
heart, with all your soul, and with all your
mind:" and that if you cannot fully attain to
this degree of perfection on earth, you should
make continual efforts to approach it. Here
you have the prescribed morality of Jesus
Christ. But the morality of which you speak,
is the morality of the world, the morality of
the devil, the morality of hell. Will such a
morality enable you to sustain the -'udgment

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

249

of God? Will it appease his justice? Will it
close the gates of hell? Will it open the gates
of immortality? Ah! let us form better ideas
of religion. There is an infinite distance be
tween him, accounted by the world an honest
man, and a real Christian; and if the love of
God have not been the predominant disposi
tion of our heart, let us tremble, let us weep,
or rather let us endeavour to reform. This is
the first conclusion we deduce from our dis
course.

The second turns on what we have said
with regard to the force of habits; on the
means of correcting the bad, and of acquiring
the good. Recollect, that all these things
cannot be done in a moment; recollect, that to
succeed, we must be fixed and firm, returning
a thousand and a thousand times to the charge.
We should be the more struck with the pro
priety of this, if, as we said in the body of this
discourse, we employed more time to reflect
on ourselves. But most people live destitute
of thought and recollection. We are dissipated
by exterior things, our eyes glance on every
object, we ascend to the heavens to make new
discoveries among the stars, we descend into
the deep, we dig into the bowels of the earth,
we run even from the one to the other world,
seeking fortune in the most remote regions,
and we are ignorant of what occurs in our
own breast. We have a body and a soul,
noblest works of God, and we never reflect on
what passes within, how knowledge is acquir
ed, how prejudices originate, how habits are
formed and fortified. If this knowledge served
merely for intellectual pleasure, we ought at
least to tax our indolence with negligence: but
being intimately connected with our salvation,
we cannot but deplore our indifference. Let
us therefore study ourselves, and become ra
tional, if we would become regenerate. Let
us learn the important truth already proved,
that virtue is acquired only by diligence and
application.

Nor let it be here objected, that we ought
not to talk of Christian virtues as of the other
habits of the soul; and that the Holy Spirit
can suddenly and fully correct our prejudices,
and eradicate our corrupt propensities. With
out a doubt we need his aid — Yes, O Holy
Spirit, source of eternal wisdom, however
great may be my efforts and vigilance, what
ever endeavours I may use for my salvation, I
will never trust to myself, never will I " offer
incense to my drag, or sacrifice to my net,"
never will I lean upon this " bruised reed,"
never will I view my utter insufficiency with
out asking thy support.

But after all, let us not imagine that the
operations of the Holy Spirit are like the fa
bulous enchantments celebrated in our ro
mances and poets. We have told you a thou
sand times, and we cannot too often repeat it,
that grace never destroys, but perfects nature. '
The Spirit of God will abundantly irradiate '
your mind, if you vigorously apply to religious j
contemplation; but he will not infuse the light '
if you disdain the study. The Spirit of God >
will abundantly establish the reign of grace in
your heart, if you assiduously apply to the
work; but he will never do it in the midst of
dissipation and sin. We ought to endeavour
VOL. II.— 32

to become genuine Christians, as we endeavour
to become profound philosophers, acute mathe
maticians, able preachers, enlightened mer
chants, intrepid commanders, by assiduity and
labour, by close and constant application.

This is perhaps a galling reflection. I am
not astonished that it is calculated to excite in
most of you discouragement and fear: here is
the most difficult part of our discourse. The
doctrines or truths we discuss being unwel
come, and such as you would gladly evade, we
must here suspend the thread of this discourse,
that you may feel the importance of our minis
try. For, after having established these truths,
we must form the one or the other of these
opinions concerning your conduct, either that
you do " seek the Lord while he ma)' be
found," and endeavour, by a holy obstinacy, to
establish truth in the mind, and grace in the
heart; or that you exclude yourselves from
salvation, and engage yourselves so afore in
the way of destruction, as to occasion fear lest
the Spirit of God, a thousand and a thousand
times insulted, should for ever withdraw.

What do you say, my brethren? Which of
these opinions is best founded? To what end
do you live? Does this unremitting vigilance,
this holy obstinacy, this continual recurrence
of watchfulness and care, form the object of
your life? Ah! make no more problems of a
truth, which will shortly be but too well esta
blished.

Ministers of Jesus Christ, sent by the God
of vengeance, not to plant only, but also to
root out; to build, but also to throw down;
Jer. i. 10, to " proclaim the acceptable year of
the Lord," Isa. Ixi. 2, but also to blow the
alarming trumpet of Zion in the ears of the

people ; awaken the conscience; brandish

the awful sword of Divine justice; put in full
effect the most terrific truths of religion. In
prosperous seasons the gospel supplies us with
sweet and consoling passages; but we should
now urge the most efficacious, and not stay to
adorn the house of God, when called to exjin-

?jish a fire which threatens its destruction,
es, Christians, did we use concerning many
of you, any other language, we should betray
the sentiments of our hearts. You suffer the
only period, proper for your salvation, to es
cape. You walk in a dreadful path, " the end
thereof is death," and your way of life tends
absolutely to incapacitate you from tasting the
sweetness of a happy death.

It is true, if you call in some ministers at the
close of life, they will perhaps have the weak
ness to promise, to the appearance of conver
sion, that grace which is offered only to a genu
ine change of heart. But we solemnly declare,
that if, after a life of inaction and negligence,
they shall speak peace to you on a death- bed,
you ought not to depend on this kind of pro
mises. You ought to class them with those
things which ought not to be credited, though
" an angel from heaven should come and preach
them." Ministers are but men, and weak as
others. You call us to attend the dying, who
have lived as most of the human kind. There
we find a sorrowful family, a father bathed in
tears, a mother in despair: what would you,
have us to do? Would you have us speak ho
nestly to the sick man? Would you have us

250

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SEH. LXXXI

tell him, that all this exterior of repentance is J You are now precisely at the age for salvation,
a vain phantom without substance, without you have all the necessary dispositions for the

reality? That among a thousand sick persons,
who seem converted on a death-bed, we scarce
ly find one who is really changed? That for one
degree of probability of the reality of his con
version, we have a thousand which prove it to
be extorted? And to speak without evasion,
we presume, that in one hour he will be taken
from his dying bed, and cast into the torments

dyii

W

of helP We should do this — we should apply
this last remedy, and no longer trifle with a
soul whose destruction is almost certain. But
you forbid us, you prevent us; you say that
such severe language would injure the health
of the sick. You do more; you weep, you
lament. At a scene so affecting, we soften as
other men: we have not resolution to add one
affliction to another; and whether from com
passion to the dying, or pity to the living, we
talk of heaven, and afford the man hopes of
salvation. But we say again, we still declare
that all these promises ought to be suspected;
they can change neither the spirit of religion,
nor the nature of man. " Without holiness
no man shall see the Lord," Heb. xii. 14.
And those tears which you shed on the ap
proach of death, that extorted submission to
the will of God, those hasty resolutions of
obedience, are not that holiness. In vain
should we address you in other language.
You yourselves would hear on your dying bed
an irreproachable witness always ready to con
tradict us. — That witness is conscience. In
vain does the degenerate minister endeavour
to afford the dying illusive hope; conscience
speaks without disguise. The preacher says,
" Peace, peace," Jer. vi. 14; conscience re
plies, " There is no peace to the wicked, saith
my God," Isa. Iv. 21. The preacher says,
" Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye
lift up, ye everlasting doors," Ps. xxiv. 7.
Conscience cries, " Mountains, mountains, fall
on us, and hide us from the face of him that
sitteth upon the throne, and from the wrath of
the'Lamb," Rev. vi. 16.

But, O gracious God, what are we doing in*
this pulpit? Are we come to trouble Israel?
Are we sent to curse? Do we preach to-day
only of hell, only of devils? Ah! my brethren,
there is no attaining salvation but in the way
which we have just prescribed: it is true, that
to the present hour you have neglected: it is
true, that the day of vengeance is about to
succeed the day of wrath. But the day of
vengeance is not yet come. You yet live, you
yet breathe: grace is yet offered. I hear the
voice of my Saviour, saying, " Comfort ye,
comfort ye my people, speak ye comfortably
to Jerusalem," Isa. xl. 1. I hear the delightful
accents crying upon this church, " Grace, grace
unto it," Zech. iv. 7. " How shall I give thee
up, Ephrairn? How shall I deliver thee, Is
rael? How shall I make thee as Admah? How
shall I set thee as Zeboim? Mine heart is
turned within me, my relentings are kindled
together. I will not execute the fierceness of
mine anger: I will not return to destroy
Ephraim," Hos. xi. 8, 9. It speaks peculiarly
to you, young people, whose minds are yet free
from passion and prejudice, whose chaste hearts
have not yet been corrupted by the world.

study of religious truths, and the subjugation
of your heart to its laws. What penetration,
what perception, what vivacity, and conse
quently what preparation for receiving the
yoke of Christ. Cherish those dispositions,
and improve each moment of a period so pre
cious. " Remember your Creator in the days
of your youth," Eccles. xii. 1. Alas, with all
your acuteness you will have enough to do in
surmounting the wicked propensities of your
heart. And what would it be, if to the depra
vity of nature, and the force of habit, you
should add, the grovelling all your life in vice?

And you aged men, who have already run
your course, but who have devoted the best of
your days to the world: you who seek the
Lord to-day, groping your way, and who are
making faint efforts in age to withdraw from
the world, a heart of which it has possession:
what shall we say to you? Shall we say that
your ruin is without remedy, that your sen
tence is already pronounced, that nothing now
remains but to cast you headlong into the
abyss you have willingly prepared for your
selves? God forbid that we should thus be
come the executioners of Divine vengeance.
We address you in the voice of our prophet.
" Seek ye the Lord while he may be found."
Weep at the remembrance of your past lives,
tremble at the thought, that God sends strong
delusions on those that " obey not the truth."
Oh! happy docility of my youth, whither art
thou fled? Ah! soul more burdened with cor
ruption than with the weight of years: Ah!
stupidity, prejudice, fatal dominion of sin, you
are the sad recompense I have derived from
serving the enemy of my salvation.

But, while you fear, hope; and hoping, act:
at least, O! at least the span of life, which
God may add, devote to your salvation. You
have abundantly more to do than others; your
task is greater, and your time is shorter. You
have, according to the prophet, " to turn your
feet unto the testimonies of the Lord," Ps.
cxix. 59. But swim against the stream; " en
ter in at the strait gate." Above all,- — above
all, offer up fervent prayers to God. Perhaps,
moved by your tears, he will revoke the sen
tence; perhaps, excited to compassion by your
misery, he will heal it by his grace; perhaps,
surmounting by the supernatural operations of
the Spirit, the depravity of nature, he will give
you thoughts so divine, and sentiments so ten
der, that you shall suddenly be transformed
into new men.

To the utmost of our power, let us reform.
There is yet time, but that time is perhaps
more limited than we think. After all, why
delay? Ah! I well see what obstructs. You
regard conversion as an irksome task, and the
state of regeneration as difficult and burden
some, which must be entered into as late as
possible. But if you knew — if you knew the
rift of God! — If you knew the sweetness felt
by a man who seeks God in his ordinances,
who hears his oracles, who derives light and
truth from their source: — If you knew the joy
of a man transformed into the image of his
Maker, and who daily engraves on his heart
some new trait of the all-perfect Being: — If

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

251

you knew the consolation of a Christian, who
seeks his God in prayer, who mingles his voice
with the voice of angels, and begins on earth
the sacred exercises which shall ^>ne day con
stitute his eternal felicity: — If you knew the
joys which succeed the bitterness of repent
ance, when the sinner, returning from his fol
ly, prostrates himself at the feet of a merciful
God, and receives at the throne of grace, from
the Saviour of the world, the discharge of all
their sins, and mingling tears of joy with tears
of grief, repairs by redoubled affection, his
lukewarmness and indolence: — If you knew
the raptures of a soul persuaded of its salva
tion, which places all its hope within the veil,
as an anchor sure and steadfast, which bids
defiance to hell and the devil, which antici
pates the celestial delights; a soul " which is
already justified, already risen, already glorifi
ed, already seated in heavenly places in Christ
Jesus," Eph. ii. 6.

. Ah! why should we defer so glorious a task?
We ought to defer things which are painful
and injurious, and when we cannot extricate
ourselves from a great calamity, we ought at
least to retard it as much as possible. But this
peace, this tranquillity, these transports, this
resurrection, this foretaste of paradise, are they
to be arranged in this class? Ah no! I will no
longer delay, O my God, to keep thy com
mandments. I will " reach forth," I will
" press towards the mark for the prize of the
high calling," Phil. iii. 14. Happy to have
formed such noble Tesolutions! Happy to ac
complish them! Amen. To God, the Father,
Son, and Spirit, be honour and glory for ever.
Amen.

SERMON LXXXL

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

PART II.

ISAIAH Iv. 6.

Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye
upon him while he is near.

IT is now some time, my brethren, if you
recollect, since we addressed you on this sub
ject. We proposed to be less scrupulous in
discussing the terms than desirous to attack
the delay of conversion, and absurd notions of
divine mercy. We then apprised you, that
we should draw our reflections from three
sources, — from the nature of man, — from the
authority of Scripture, — and from actual ex
perience. We began by the first of these
points; to-day we intend to discuss the second;
and if Providence call us again into this pul
pit, we will explain the third, and give the
finishing hand to the subject.

If you were attentive to what we proposed
in our first discourse, if the love of salvation
drew you to these assemblies, you would de
rive instruction. You would sensibly perceive
the vain pretensions of those who would in
deed labour to obtain salvation, but who always
delay. For what, I pray, is more proper to
excite alarm and terror in the soul, negligent
of conversion, than the single point to which

we called your attention, the study of man?
What is more proper to confound such a man,
than to tell him, as we then did, your brain
will weaken your age; your mind will be filled
with notions foreign to religion; it will lose
with years, the power of conversing with any
but sensible objects; and of commencing the
investigation of religious truths? What is
more proper to save such a man from his pre
judices, than to remind him, that the way, and
the only way of acquiring a habit is practice;
that virtue cannot be formed in the heart by a
single wish, by a rash and hasty resolution,
but by repeated and persevering efforts; that
the habit of a vice strengthens itself in propor
tion as we indulge the crime? What, in short,
is more proper to induce us to improve the
time of health for salvation, than to exhibit to
him the portrait we have drawn of a dying
man, stretched on a bed of affliction, labouring
with sickness, troubled with phantoms and re
veries, flattered by his friends, terrified with
death, and consequently incapable of execut
ing the work he has deferred to this tragic pe
riod? I again repeat, my brethren, if you were
attentive to the discourse we delivered, if the
desire of salvation drew you to these assem
blies, there is not one among you that those
serious reflections would not constrain to enter
into his heart, and to reform without delay the
purposes of life.

But it may appear to some, that we narrow
the way to heaven; that the doctrines of faith
being above the doctrines of philosophy, we
must suppress the light of reason, and take
solely for our guide in the paths of piety, the
lamp of revelation. We will endeavour to af
ford them satisfaction: we will show that reli
gion, very far from weakening, strengthens the
reflections which reason has suggested. We
will prove, that we have said nothing but what
ought to alarm those who delay conversion,
and who found the notion they have formed of
the Divine mercy, not on the nature of God,
but on the depraved propensity of their own
heart, and on the impure system of their lusts.
These are the heads of this discourse.

You will tell us, brethren, entering on this
discourse, that we are little afraid of the diffi
culties of which perhaps it is susceptible; we
hope that the truth, notwithstanding our weak
ness, will appear in all its lustre. But other
thoughts strike our mind, and they must for a
moment arrest our course. We fear the diffi
culty of your hearts: we fear more: we fear
that this discourse, which shall disclose the
treasures of grace, will aggravate the condem
nation of those who turn it into wantonness:
we fear that this discourse, by the abuse to
which many may expose it, will serve merely
as a proof of the truths already established. O
God! avert this dreadful prediction, and may
the cords of love, which thou so evidently em-
ployest, draw and captivate our hearts. Amen.

I. The Holy Scriptures to-day are the source
from which we draw our arguments to attack
the delay of conversion. Had we no design
but to cite what is positively said on this sub
ject, our meditation would require no great ef
forts. We should have but to transcribe a
mass of infallible decisions, of repeated warn
ings, of terrific examples, of appalling menaces,

252

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

. LXXXI.

with which they abound, ahd which they ad
dress to all those who presume to delay con
version. We should have to repeat this cau
tion of the prophet, " To-day if ye will hear
his voice harden not your hearts," Ps. xcv. 7.
A caution he has sanctified by his own exam
ple, " I made haste, and delayed not to keep
thy commandments," Ps. cxix. 60. We should
have only to address to you this reflection,
made by the author of the second book of
Chronicles: "The Lord God of their fathers
sent to them by his messengers, because he had
compassion on his people; but they mocked
the messengers of God, and despised his words,
and misused his prophets, until the wrath of
the Lord arose against his people till there was
no remedy. Therefore he brought upon them
the king of the Chaldees, who slew the young
men with the sword. And had no compassion
upon young men or maidens, old men or him
that stooped for age. They burned the house
of God, and brake down the wall of Jerusa
lem, and burned all the palaces thereof with
fire," 2 Chron. xxxvi. 15, &c. We should
only have to propose the declaration of Eter
nal Wisdom, " Because I called and ye refused,
I will laugh at your calamity, and mock when
your fear cometh," Prov. i. 26. We should
have but to represent the affecting scene of Je
sus Christ weeping over Jerusalem, and say
ing, " O that thou hadst known, at least in
this thy day, the things that belong to thy
peace; but now they are hid from thine eyes,"
Luke xix. 41. We should have but to say to
each of you, as St. Paul to the Romans: " De-
spisest thou the riches of his goodness, and
forbearing, and long-suffering, not knowing
that the goodness of God leadeth thee to re
pentance? But after thy hardness and impeni
tent heart, treasurest up unto thyself wrath
against the day of wrath, and revelation of
the righteous judgments of God," Rom. ii. 4,
&c. And elsewhere that God sends strong
delusion on those who believe not the truth, to
believe a lie, 2 Thess. ii. 8. We should have
but to resound in this assembly, those awful
words in the Epistle to the Hebrews: " If we
sin wilfully after we have received the know
ledge of the truth, there remaineth no more
sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking
for of judgment, and fiery indignation, which
shall devour the adversaries," Heb. x. 26. For
if the mercy of God is without bounds, if it is
ready to receive the sinner the moment he is
induced by the fear of punishment to prostrate
himself before him, why is this precise day
marked to hear the voice of God? Why this
haste? Why this exhaustirtg of resources and
remedies? Why this strong delusion? Why
this refusal to hear the tardy penitent? Why
this end of the days of Jerusalem's visitation?
Why this heaping up of the treasures of wrath?
Why this utter defect of sacrifice for sin? All
these passages, my brethren, are as so many
sentences against our delays, against the con
tradictory notions we fondly form of the divine
mercy, and of which we foolishly avail our
selves in order to sleep in our sins.

All these things being hereby evident and
clear, we stop not for farther explication, but
proceed with our discourse. When we em- :
ployed philosophical arguments against the

I delay of conversion; when we prove from the
force of habits, that it is difficult, not to say
impossible, for a man aged in crimes, to be
converted at the hour of death; it appeared
to you, that we shook two doctrines which are
in fact the two fundamental pillars of your
faith.

The first is the supernatural aids of the Ho
ly Spirit, promised in the new covenant; aids
which bend the most rebellious wills, aids
which can surmount in a moment all the diffi
culties which the force of habit may oppose to
conversion.

The second doctrine is that of mercy, access
to which being opened by the blood of Christ,
there is no period it seems but we may be ad
mitted whenever we come, though at the close,
of life. Here is, in substance, if I mistake
not, the whole of what religion and the Scrip
tures seem to oppose to what has been advanc-,
ed in our first discourse. If we make it there-,
fore evident, that these two doctrines do not
oppose our principles; if we prove, that they*"
contain nothing directly repugnant to the con
clusions we have drawn, shall we not thereby
demonstrate, that the Scriptures contain no
thing but what should alarm those who trust
to a tardy repentance. This we undertake to
develope. The subject is not without difficul
ty; we have to steer between two rocks equal
ly dangerous; for if, on the one hand, we
should supersede those doctrines, we abjure the
faith of our fathers, and draw upon ourselves
the charge of heterodoxy. On the other hand,
if we should stretch those doctrines beyond a
certain point, we furnish a plea for licentious
ness: we sap what we have built, and refute
ourselves. Both these rocks we must can
tiously avoid.

The first proofs of which people avail them
selves, to excuse their negligence and delay,
and the first arguments of defence, which they
draw from the Scriptures, in order to oppose
us, are taken from the aids of the Spirit, pro
mised in the new covenant. "Why those
alarming sermons?" say they. " Why those
awful addresses, to the sinner who defers his
conversion? Why confound, in this way, reli
gious with natural habits?" The latter are
formed, I grant, by labour and study; by per
severing and uninterrupted assiduity. The
former proceed from extraneous aids; they are
the productions of grace, formed in the soul by
the Holy Spirit. 1 will not, therefore, invali
date a doctrine so consolatory; I will profit by
the prerogatives of Christianity; I will devote
my life to the world; and when I perceive my
self ready to expire, I will assume the charac
ter of a Christian. I will surrender myself
to the guidance of the Holy Spirit; and then
he shall, according to his promise, communi
cate his powerful influence to my heart; he
shall subdue my wicked propensities, eradicate
my most inveterate habits, and effectuate, in a
moment, what would have cost me so much
labour and pain. Here is an objection, which
most sinners have not the effrontery to avow,
but which a false theolpgy cherishes in too
many minds; and on which we found nearly the
whole of our imaginary hopes of a death-bed
conversion.

To this objection we are bound to reply.

SEE. LXXXI.]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

253

J proceed to make manifest its absurdity, 1.
the ministry God has established in the
church. 2. By the efforts he requires us to
make, previously to our being satisfied that we
have received T^e Holy Spirit. 3. By the
manner in which he requires us to co-operate
with the Spirit, when we have received him.
4. By the punishment he has denounced against
those who resist his work. 5. By the conclu
sions which the Scripture itself deduces from
our natural weakness, and from the necessity
of grace. Here, my brethren, are five sources
of reflection, which amount to demonstration,
that every man who draws consequences from
the promised aids of the Spirit, to live in luke-
warmness, and to flatter himself with acquir
ing, without labour, without difficulty, without
application, habits of holiness, offers violence to
religion, and is unacquainted with the genius
of the Holy Spirit's economy.

The ministry established in the church, is
the first proof that the aids of the Spirit give
no countenance to lukewarmness, and the de
lay of conversion. Had it been the design of
the Holy Spirit to communicate knowledge,
without the fatigue of religious instruction;
had it been his design to sanctify, in a moment,
without requiring our co-operation in this
great work, why establish a ministry in the
church? Why require us in infancy to be
taught " line upon line, and precept upon pre
cept," as Isaiah expresses himself, Isa. xxxviii.
10. Why, as St. Paul says, require us after
ward to " leave the principles of the doctrines
of Christ, and go on to perfection?" Heb. vi. 1.
Why require, as the same apostle says, that
we proceed from " milk to strong meat?"
1 Cor. iii. 2. Why require to propose motives,
and address exhortations? Why are we not
enlightened and sanctified without means,
without ministers, without the Bible, without
the ministry? Why act exactly in the science
of salvation, as in the sciences of men? For,
when we teach a science to a man, we adapt
it to his capacity, to his genius, and to his me
mory; so God requires us to do with regard to
men. " Faith comes by hearing," says St.
Paul, " and hearing by the word," Rorn. x. 17.
" Being ascended up on high, he gave some to
be apostles, and some prophets, and some evan
gelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the
perfecting of the saints, for the work of the
ministry (mark the expression,) for the edify
ing of the body of Christ," Eph. iv. 11, 12.
Perceive you not, therefore, the impropriety
of your pretensions? Seeing it has been God's
good pleasure to establish a ministry, do you
not conceive that he would have you regard it
with deference? Seeing he has opened the
gates of these temples, do you not conceive that
he requires you to enter his courts? Seeing he
has enjoined us to preach, do you not conceive
that he requires you to hear? Seeing he re
quires you to hear, do you not conceive that
he likewise requires you to comprehend? See
ing he commands us to impress you with mo
tives, would he not have you feel their force?
Do you think he has any other object in view?
Show us a man, who has lived eighty years
without meditation and piety, that has instan
taneously become a good divine, a faithful
Christian, perfected in holiness and piety. Do

you not perceive, on the contrary, that the
youth who learns his catechism with care, be
comes a good catechumen; that the candidate
who profoundly studies divinity, becomes an
able divine; and that the Christian, who endea
vours to subdue his passions, obtains the vic
tory over himself? Hence, the Holy Spirit re
quires you to use exertions. Hence, when
we exhorted you to become genuine Christians,
with the same application that we use to be
come enlightened merchants, meritorious offi
cers, acute mathematicians, and good preach
ers, by assiduity and study, by labour and ap
plication, we advanced nothing .inconsistent
with the genius of our religion. Hence, he
who draws from the aids of the Holy Spirit
conclusions to remain inactive, and defer the
work of salvation, offers violence to the econo
my of grace, and supersedes the design of the
ministry God has established in his church.
This is our first reflection.

We have marked, secondly, the efforts that
God requires us to use to obtain the grace of
the Holy Spirit, when we do not account our
selves as yet to have received them. For it is
fully admitted that God required us, at least,
to ask. The Scriptures are very express. " If
any man lack wisdom let him ask of God,"
Jam. i. 5; "seek, and ye shall find; knock,
and it shall be opened," Matt. vii. 7. And, if
we are required to ask, we are also obliged to
use efforts, however weak and imperfect, to
obtain the grace we ask. For, with what face
can we ask God to assist us in the work of
salvation, when we deliberately seek our own
destruction? With what face can we ask God
not to lead us into temptation, and we our
selves rush into temptation, and greedily riot
in sin? With what face can we ask him to
extinguish the fire of concupiscence, when we
daily converse with objects which inflame it?

We ought, therefore, to conduct ourselves,
with regard to the work of salvation, as we do
with regard to life and health. In vain should
we try to preserve them, did not God extend
his care: nature, and the elements, all con
spire for our destruction; we should vanish of
our own accord; God alone can retain the
breath which preserves our life. Asa, king of
Israel, was blamed for having had recourse to
physicians, without having first inquired of the
Lord. But should we not be fools, if, from a
notion that God alone can preserve our life,
we should cast ourselves into a pit; abandon
ourselves to the waves of the sea, take no food
when healthy, and no medicine when sick?
Thus, in the work of salvation, we should do
the same; imploring the grace of God to aid
our endeavours. We should follow the exam
ple of Moses, when attacked by Amalek; he
shared with Joshua the task of victory. Mo
ses ascended the hill, Joshua descended into
the plain: Joshua fought, Moses prayed: Mo
ses raised his suppliant hands to heaven, Jo
shua raised a warrior's arm: Moses opposed
his fervour to the wrath of Heaven, Joshua
opposed his courage and arms to the enemy of
Israel: and, by this judicious concurrence of
praying and fighting, Israel triumphed and
Amalek fled.

Observe, thirdly, the manner in which the
Holy Spirit requires correspondent co-operation

254

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

SER. LXXXI

from us, as the objects of his care. In display
ing1, his efficacy in the heart, he pretends not
to deal with us as with stocks and stones.
It is an excellent sentence of Augustine:
" God, who made us without ourselves, will
not save us without ourselves." Hence the
Scripture commonly joins these two things,
the work of God in our conversion, and the
correspondent duty of man. " To-day if ye
will hear his voice," here is the work of God,
" harden not your hearts." Ps. xcv. 8. Here
is the duty of man. " You are sealed by the
Holy Spirit." Eph. iv. 30. Here is the work
of God. " Grieve not the Holy Spirit." Here
is the duty of man. " Behold, I stand at the
door and knock." Rev. v. 20. Here is the
work of God. " If any man hear my voice
and open." Here is the duty of man. " God
worketh in us to will and to do." Phil. ii. 12.
Here is the work of God. " Work out your
own salvation with fear and trembling." Here
is the duty of man. " I will take away the
stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give
you a heart of flesh." Ezek. xi. 19. Here is
the work of God. "Make you a new heart,
and a new spirit." Ezek. xviii. 31. Here, the
duty of man. What avail all these expressions,
if it were merely the design of Scripture in
promising grace to favour our lukewarmness
and flatter our delay of conversion? What are
the duties it prescribes, except those very du
ties, the necessity of which we have proved,
when speaking of habits? What is this cau
tion, not to harden the heart against the voice
of God, if it is not to pay deference to all the
commands? What is the precept, " Grieve not
the Holy Spirit," but to yield to whatever he
deigns to teach? What is it to open to God,
who knocks at the door of our heart, if it is
not to hear when he speaks, to come when he
calls, to yield when he entreats, to tremble
when he threatens, and to hope when he pro
mises? What is this " working out our salva
tion with fear and trembling," if it is not to
have this continual vigilance, these salutary
cautions, these weighty cares, the necessity o£
which we have proved?

Our fourth reflection is derived from the
threatenings, which God denounces against
those who refuse to co-operate with the eco
nomy of grace. The Spirit of God, you say,
will be stronger than your obstinacy; he will
surmount your propensities; he will triumph
over your opposition; grace will become vic
torious, and save you in defiance of nature. —
Nay, rather this grace shall be withdrawn, if
you persist in your contempt of it. Nay, ra
ther this Spirit shall abandon you, after a
course of obstinacy to your own way. He re
sumes the one talent from the unfaithful ser
vant, who neglects to improve it; and, accord
ing to the passage already cited, God sends on
those, who obey not the truth, strong delusion
to believe a lie, 2 Thess. ii. 10, 11. Hence,
St. Paul draws this conclusion: " Stand fast,
and hold the traditions which ye have been
taught, whether by word, or by our epistle."
And elsewhere it is said, " That servant who
knew his lord's will, and did it not, shall be
beaten with many stripes," Luke xii. 47. And
the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews af
firms, "That it is impossible for those who

were once enlightened, if they fall away, to re
new them again unto repentance," Heb. ii. 4
I am aware that the apostle had particularly
in view the sin of those Jews who had embrac
ed the gospel, and abjured it through apostacy
or prejudice. We ought, however, to deduce
this conclusion, that when the Holy Spirit has
enabled us to attain a certain degree of light
and purity, if we relapse into our courses, w§
cease to be the objects of his regard.

6. But why this mass of various arguments,
to show the absurdity of the sinner, who ex
cuses himself on the ground of weakness, and
indolently awaits the operations of grace? We
have a shorter way to confound the sinner, and
resolve the sophism adduced by his depravity.
Let us open the sacred books; let us see what
conclusions the Scriptures draw from the doc
trine of human weakness, and the promised aids
of grace. If these consequences coincide with
yours, we give up the cause; but, if they clash,
you ought to acknowledge your error. Show
us a single passage in the Bible where we find
arguments similar to those we refute. Show
us one passage, where the Scriptures, having
asserted your weakness, and the aids of the
Holy Spirit, conclude from these maxims, that
you ought to continue in indolence. Is it not
evident, on the contrary, that they draw con
clusions directly opposite? — Among many pas
sages, I will select two: the one is a caution of
Jesus Christ, the other an argument of St.
Paul. " Watch and pray, that ye enter not
into temptation; for the spirit is willing, but
the flesh is weak," Mark xiii. 33. This is the
caution of Christ. " Work out your salvation
with fear and trembling: for it is God that
worketh in you to will and to do," Phil. ii.
12, 13. This is the argument of St. Paul.
Had we advanced a sophism, when, after hav
ing established the frailty of human nature,
and the necessity of grace, we founded, on
those very doctrines, the motives which ought
to induce you to diligence, and prompt you to
vigilance; it was a sophism, for which the
Scriptures are responsible. "The spirit is
willing, but the flesh is weak:" here is the
principle of Jesus Christ. " God worketh in
you to will and to do:" here is the principle
of St. Paul. " Work out your salvation:''
here is the consequence. Are you, therefore,
actuated by a spirit of orthodoxy and truth,
when you exclaim against our sermons? Are
you then more orthodox than the Holy Ghost,
or more correct than eternal truth? Or rather,
whence is it that you, being orthodox in the
first member of the proposition of our authors,
become heretics in the second? Why ortho
dox in the principle, and* heretics in the con
sequence?

Collect now, my brethren, the whole of these
five arguments; open your eyes to the light,
communicated from all points, in order to cor
rect your prejudice; and see how superficial
is the man who draws from human weakness,
and the aids of the Spirit, motives to defer con
version. The Holy Spirit works within us, it
is true; but he works In concurrence with the
word and the ministry, in sending you pastors,
in accompanying their word with wisdom,
their exhortation with unction, their weakness
with power: and you — you who have never

SER. LXXXI]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

255

read this word, who have absented yourselves
from this ministry, who have not wished to
hear these discourses, who have paid no defer
ence to these cautions, nor submission to this
power, would you have the Holy Spirit to con
vert you by means unknown, and beyond the
limits of his operations? The Holy Spirit
works within us, it is true: but he requires
that we should seek and ask those aids, making
efforts, imperfect efforts, to sanctify ourselves:
and would you wish him to convert you, while
you neglect to seek, while you disdain to ask;
to say the least, while you give up yourselves
to inaction and supineness? The Holy Spirit
works within us, it is true; but he requires that
we act in concert with his grace, that we
second his operations, and yield to his entrea
ties: and would you wish him to convert you,
while you harden yourselves against his voice,
while you never cease from grieving him?
The Holy Spirit works within us, it is true;
but he declares that, if we obstinately resist,
he will leave us to ourselves; he will refuse the
aids he has offered in vain; he will abandon us
to our natural stupidity and corruption; and
you, already come to the crisis of vengeance,
to the epoch for accomplishing his wrath, to
the termination of a criminal career, can you
presume that this Spirit will adopt for you a
new economy, and work a miracle in your
favour? The Holy Spirit works within us, it
is true; but thence it is concluded in our Scrip
tures, that we ought to work, that we ought
to labour, that we ought to apply to the con
cerns of salvation our strength of body, our
facility of conception, our retention of me
mory, our presence of mind, our vivacity of
genius: and you who devote this mind, this
genius, this memory, this conception, this
health, wholly to the world, do you derive
from these very sermons sanction for an indo
lence and a delay, which the very idea of those
talents ought to correct' If this be not wrest
ing the Scriptures, if this be not offering vio
lence to religion, and subverting the design of
the Spirit in the discovery of our natural weak
ness, and the promised aids of grace, we must
be proof against the most palpable demonstra
tion.

Enough, I think, has been said, to establish
our first proposition, that the aids of God's
Spirit confirm the necessity of discharging the
offices of piety, in order to acquire the habit;
and that the difficulties adduced, are all con
verted into proofs, in favour of what they
seemed to destroy. These are also, according
to us, the pure divinity, and the truths which
ought to resound in our protestant auditories.
Happy, indeed, were the doctors, if, instead of
multiplying questions and disputations, they
had endeavoured to press these important
truths. O, my soul, lose not thyself in abstract
and knotty speculations; fathom not the mys
terious means which God adopts to penetrate
the heart. " The wind bloweth where it list-
eth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it
goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit."
John iii. 8. "Pride goeth before destruction,
and a haughty spirit before a fall." Prov. xvi.
18. " Before destruction the heart of man is
haughty, and before honour is humility," xviii.

12. Content thyself with adoring the good
ness of God, who promises thee assistance, and
deigns to surmount by grace the corruptions
of nature. But, while thou groanest under a
sense of thy corruption, endeavour to surmount
and vanquish thyself; draw from God's pro.-
mises, motives for thy own sanctification and
instruction; and even when thou sayest, I am
nothing, I can do nothing, act as though the
whole depended on thyself, and as though thou
couldest "do all things."

II. The notion of the aids of the Holy
Spirit, was the first source of illusion we have
had to attack. The notion of the mercy sf
God is a second, on which we shall also pro
ceed to reflect. " God is merciful," say they,
" the covenant he has established with man, is
a covenant of grace: we are not come to the
darkness, to the devouring fire, and the tem
pest. A general amnesty is granted to the
wicked. Hence, though our conversion be de
fective, God will receive our dying breath,
and yield to our tears. What, then, should
deter us from giving free scope to our passions,
and deferring the rigorous duties of conversion,
till we are nothing worth for the world?"

Strange argument! Detestable sophism, my
brethren! Here is the highest stage of corrup
tion, the supreme degree of ingratitude. What
do I say? For though a man be ungrateful,
he discovers sensibility and acknowledgement,
for the moment at least, on the reception of a
favour. Forgetfulness and ingratitude are oc
casioned by other objects, which time and the
world have presented to the mind, and which
have obliterated the recollection of past favours.
But behold, in the argument of the sinner, a
manoeuvre of a novel- kind; he acquires the un
happy art of embracing, in the bosom of his in
gratitude, the present and the future; the fa
vours already received, and those which are
yet to come. " I will be ungrateful beforehand.
I will, from this instant, misuse the favours I
have not as yet received. In each of my acts
of vice, I will recollect and anticipate the fa
vours which God shall one day give; and I
will derive, from this consideration, a fresh
motive to confirm myself in revolt, and to sin
with assurance." Is not this extreme of cor
ruption and ingratitude the most detestable?

But it is not sufficient to attack this system
by arguments of equity and decency; this would
be to make of man a portrait too flattering, by
inducing a belief that he is sensible of motives
so noble. This would effect the wicked little
more than saying, you are very ungrateful if
you persist in vice. The author of our religion
knew the human heart too well, to leave it
unopposed by the strongest banks. Let us
extend our hypothesis, and demonstrate, that
those who reason thus build upon false princi
ples, on assurance of mercy, to which they have
no possible claim. Hence, to find a compas
sionate God, they must " seek him while he
may be found, and call upon him while he is
near."

Here a scholastic method, and a series of
questions discussed in the schools, would per
haps be acceptable, did we address an auditory
of learned doctors, ready to oppose us with
their arguments and proofs. But we will not
disturb the repose of these disputes and con-

256

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXX1.

troversies; we will reduce all we have to ad
vance to terms the most plain, and questions
the most simple, and ask two things — Is the
mercy of God offered in the gospel, offered ab
solutely and without conditions? And if it
have prescribed conditions, are they of a na
ture, to which you can instantaneously con
form on a death-bed, after having run a crimi
nal career? Here is a second question.

On the idea you may form of these ques
tions, will depend the opinion you ought to
have of a man, who claims admission to the
throne of mercy, after a dissipated life. For
if the gospel is a definitive covenant, requiring
nothing of man; or if its requisitions are so
easy, that a wish, a tear, a superficial repent
ance, a slight recourse to piety, is sufficient,
your argument is demonstrative, and our mo
rality is too severe. Profit by a religion so ac
commodating; cease to anticipate an awful fu
turity; and reduce the whole gospel to mere
request for grace. But, if the gospel is a con
ditional covenant; and if the conditions on
which grace is offered, are of a nature that re
quire time, labour and application; and if the
conditions become impracticable, when deferred
too long, then your argument is false, and your
conduct altogether absurd.

Now, my brethren, I appeal to the con
science of the most profligate sinners, and to
casuists minutely scrupulous. Can one ration
ally hesitate to decide on the two questions?
And will it be difficult to prove, on the one
hand, that the gospel, in offering mercy, im
poses certain duties; and, on the other, that we
reduce ourselves to an evident incapacity of
compliance, when conformity is deferred?

I. Say that the gospel is a definitive cove
nant, and you save us the trouble of attacking
and refuting an assertion which contradicts it
self — for the very term covenant, implies a mu
tual contract between two parties; otherwise it
would overturn a thousand express testimonies
of Scripture, which we avoid reciting, because
we presume they are well known to our au
dience. A

II. The whole question then is reduced to
this, to know what are the stipulated condi
tions. We are all agreed as to the terms.
This condition is a disposition of the soul,
which the Scriptures sometimes call faith and
sometimes repentance. Not to dwell on terms,
we ask what is this faith, and what is this re
pentance, which opens access to the throne of
grace? In what do these virtues consist? Is the
whole implied in a simple desire to be saved?
In a mere desire to participate in the benefits
of the passion of Jesus Christ? Or, if faith and
repentance include, in their nature, the renun
ciation of the world, the forsaking of sin, a
total change of life, an inward disposition, in
ducing us to accept all the benefits procured by
the cross of Christ, does it not prompt us sin
cerely, and with an honest mind, to detest the
crimes which nailed him to it? In a word, is it
sufficient for the penitent to say on a death-bed,
" I desire to be saved; I acknowledge that my
Redeemer has died for my sins;1' or must he
subjoin to these confessions, sentiments propor
tioned to the sanctity of the salvation which he
demands; and eradicate the crimes, for which
Jesus Christ has made atonement?

I confess, my brethren, that I discuss these
subjects with regret. I fear that those of other
communions, who may be present in this as
sembly, will be offended at this discourse; and
publish, to the shame of the reformed churches,
that it is still a disputable point with us, whe
ther the renunciation of vice, and adherence to
virtue, ought to be included in the notions of
faith, and in the conditions we prescribe to
penitents. " Tell it not in Gath, publish it not
in Askelon," 2 Sam. i. 20. There are ignorant
persons in every society: we have them also in
our communion. There are members in each
denomination, who subvert the most generally
received principles of their profession: we also
have persons of this description. There are
none but captious men; none but fools: none
but degenerate protestants, presume to enter
tain those relaxed notions of faith and repent
ance.

A good protestant believes with our sacred
authors, that " he who confesseth and forsaketh
his sins, shall find mercy," Prov. xxviii. 13.
That with God there is forgiveness, that he
may be feared," Ps. cxxx. 4. " That God will
speak peace unto his people, and to his saints;
but let them not turn again unto folly," Ps.
Ixxxv. 8. A good protestant believes, that
" faith without works is dead; that it worketh
by love; and that we are justified by works,"
Jam. ii. 21 — 26. A good protestant believes,
that " the kingdom of heaven is at hand, in or
der that men may bring forth fruits meet for re
pentance," Matt. iii. 3. 8. A good protestant
believes, that " there is no condemnation to
those who walk not after the flesh, but after
the Spirit," Rom. viii. 1, 2. That "sin shall
not have dominion over us, because we are not
under the law, but under grace," Rom. vi. 14.
A good protestant believes, that " without ho
liness no man shall see the Lord:" that "nei
ther fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers,
nor effeminate, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor
drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall
enter the kingdom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 8, 9.

If this were not the true definition of faith
and repentance; if faith and repentance were a
mere wish to participate of the merits of Jesus
Christ; if, in order to salvation, we had but to
ask grace, without subduing the corruptions of
the heart, what would the gospel be? I will
venture to affirm, it would be the most impure
of all religions; it would be a monstrous econo
my; it would be an invitation to crimes; it
would be a subversion of the law of nature.
Under this supposition, the basest of men might
have claims of mercy: the laws of God might
be violated with impunity; Jesus Christ would
not have descended from heaven, to save us
from our sins, but to console us in the commis
sion of crimes. A heathen, excluded from the
covenant of grace, would be checked in his riot
by fears of the most tremendous punishment; a
Christian, on the contrary, would be the more
encouraged to continue in sin, by the notion of
a mercy ever ready to receive him. And you,
Celsus, you Porphyry, you Zosimus, you Ju
lian, celebrated enemies of the Christian name,
who once calumniated the infant church, who
so frequently accused the first Christians with
authorizing licentiousness, you had reason to
complain, and we have nothing to reply. So

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

257

many are the reflections, so many the proofs,
that the faith and repentance, without which
we can find no access to the throne of grace in
a dying hour, consist not in a simple desire to
be saved, in a superficial recourse to the merits
of Jesus Christ; they include, in their notion,
the renunciation of the world, the abandoning
of our crimes, and the renovation of heart, of
which we have just spoken; and, that, without
this faith, there is no grace, no mercy, no sal
vation.

I know that there are tender conversions;
that faith has degrees; that piety has a begin
ning; that a Christian has his infancy; and that,
at the tribunal of a merciful God, the sincerity
of our repentance will be a substitute for its
perfection. But do you call that a growing
conversion, do you denominate that faith, do
you take that for repentance, which is the re
morse of a conscience alarmed, not by abhor
rence of sin, but the fear of punishment; not by
a principle of divine love, but a principle of
self-love; not by a desire to be united to God,
but by horror, excited by the idea of approach
ing death, and the image of devouring fire?
Farther, is it not true, that to what degree so
ever we may carry evangelical condescension,
it is always evident, that faith and repentance
include, in their notion, the principles, at least,
of detachment from the world, of renunciation
of vice, and the renovation of heart, the neces
sity of which we have pressed.

This being established, it seems to me that
truth is triumphant; having proved how little
ground a man, who delays conversion, has to
rely on the mercy of God, and expect salva
tion. For, after having lived in negligence, by
what unknown secret would you form in the
soul the repentance and faith we have describ
ed, without which, access to the mercy of God
is excluded? Whence would you derive these
virtues? From your own strength, or from the
operations of the Holy Spirit? Do you say from
your own strength? What then becomes of
your orthodoxy? What becomes of the doc
trine of human weakness, and of the neces
sity of grace; of which pretext you avail your
selves to defer conversion? Do you not per
ceive how you destroy your own principles,
and sap with one hand, what you build with
the other?

Recollect farther what we established in our
first discourse on the force of habits. And how
can you presume that a habit formed by a thou
sand acts; a habit in which a man has grovel
led and grown old, should be changed in a mo
ment? How can you dream that a man who
has wasted so many years in sin; a man accus
tomed to regard the world as his portion, and
virtue not as valuable, except as a final re
source; how can you think that such a man
should be converted in a moment? Ah! and in
what circumstances? in an expiring old age,
when the senses are dulled, when the memory
fails, when reason is disturbed with reverie, and
when the vivacity of nature is extinguished, or
indeed, on the approaches of death, when the
mere idea of " the king of terrors," agitates, af
frights, and confounds him? Nothing then,
most assuredly, but the extraordinary grace of
the Holy Spirit can convert such a man. But
what assurance have you that the Holy Spirit
VOL. II.— 33

will work the like miracle in your favour? Say
rather, how many presumptive arguments are
opposed in the first part of our discourse to a
hope so preposterous.

We conclude, that nothing is so doubtful as
a tardy repentance; that nothing is so unwise
as the delay of conversion. We farther con
clude, that, in order to receive the aids of
grace, we must live in continual vigilance; in
order to become the objects of mercy, we must
have both repentance and faith; and the only
sure tests of having these virtues, is a long
course of pious offices. In the ordinary course
of religion, without a miracle of mercy, a man
who has wasted his life in sin, whatever sighs
he may send to heaven at the hour of death,
has cause to fear that all access to mercy will
be cut off.

All these things appear very clear, my bre
thren; nevertheless, the wicked love to deceive
themselves; they affect rationally to believe the
things of which they are only persuaded by ca
price; and they start objections, which it is of
importance to resolve; with this view we pro
ceed to apply the whole of this discourse.

APPLICATION.

We find people who readily say, that they
cannot comprehend these things; that they can
not imagine the justice of God to be so severe
as we have insisted; and the conditions of the
new covenant to be so rigorous as we have af
firmed.

What are the whole of these objections but
suppositions without foundation, and frivolous
conjectures? " There is but an appearance: I
cannot imagine: I cannot conceive." Would
you, on suppositions of this nature, risk your
reputation, your honour, your fortune, your
life? Why, then, risk your salvation?

The justice of God is, perhaps, not so rigo
rous, you say, as we have affirmed. It is true,
that it may be so. If God have, by himself,
some covenant of grace not yet revealed; if he
should have some new gospel; if God have pre
pared some other sacrifice, your conjectures
may be right. But if " there is no name under
leaven whereby we can be saved, but that of
our Jesus," Acts iv. 12; if there is no other
alood than that shed by this divine Saviour; if
' God shall judge the world according to my
gospel," Rom. ii. 16; then your arguments fail,
and your salvation is hopeless.

Farther, what sort of reasoning is this?
There is but an appearance: I cannot con
ceive: I cannot imagine." And who are you
that reason in this way? Are you Christians?
Where then is that faith, which ought to sub
jugate reason to the decision of revelation, and
which admits the most abstract doctrines, and
the most sublime mysteries? If you are allowed
to talk in this way, to reply when God speaks,
to argue when he decides, let us establish a new
religion; let us place reason on the throne, and
make faith retire. The doctrine of the Trinity
obstructs my thought, the atonement confounds
me, the incarnation presents precipices to me,
n which my reason is absorbed. If you are
disposed to doubt of the doctrines we have ad
vanced, under a pretext that you cannot com
prehend them, then discard the other doctrines;
they are not less incomprehensible.

256

OIS THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

LXXXI

I v\ ill go farther still; I will venture to af
firm, that if reason must be consulted on the
portrait we have drawn of God's justice, it per
fectly accords with revelation. Thou canst
not conceive how justice should be so rigorous;
and I cannot conceive how it should be so in
dulgent. I cannot conceive how the Lord of
the universe should be clothed with human
flesh, should expose himself to an infuriated
populace, and expire on a cross; this. is the
greatest difficulty I find in the gospel. But be
thou silent, imperious reason; here is a satisfac
tory solution. Join the difficulty which thou
findest in the administration of justice, with
that which proceeds from thy notion of mercy;
the one will correct the other. The supera
bundance of mercy will rectify the severity of
justice; for the severity of justice proceeds from
the superabundance of mercy.

If the people who talk in this manner; if
the people who find the divine justice too se
vere; if they were a people diligently labour
ing to promote their own salvation; if they de
voted an hour daily to the work, the difficulty
would be plausible, and they would have ap
parent cause of complaint. But who are these
complainants? They are people who throw the
reins to their passions; who glory in their infa
mous intrigues; who are implacable in hating
their neighbour, and resolved to hate him dur
ing life: they are votaries of pleasure, who
spend half the night in gaming, in drunken
ness, in theatres, and take from the day the
part of the night they have devoted to dissipa
tion: they are proud, ambitious men, who, un
der a pretext of having sumptuous equipage,
and dignified titles, fancy themselves autho
rized to violate the obligations of Christianity
with impunity. These are the people, who,
when told if they persist in this way of life,
that they cannot be saved, reply, that they can
not conceive how the justice of God should
treat them with such severity. And I, for my
own part, cannot conceive how God should
treat you so indulgently; I cannot conceive
how he should permit the sun to enlighten
thee. I cannot conceive how he, who holds*
the thunder in his hand, can apparently be an
idle spectator of thy sacrileges. I cannot con
ceive how the earth does not open beneath thy
feet, and, by its terrific jaws, anticipate the
punishment prepared in hell for thee by the
divine vengeance.

You say again, that this mercy, of which
we draw so magnificent a portrait, is conse
quently very circumscribed. But say rather,
how is it that you dare to start difficulties of
this nature? God, the blessed God, the Supreme
Being, has formed you of nothing; has given
you his Son, has offered you his Spirit, has
promised to bear with you such as you are,
with all your infirmities, with all your corrup
tions, with all your weakness; has opened to
you the gates of heaven; and being desirous to
give you himself, he requires no return, but the
consecration to him of your few remaining
days on earth; he excludes none from paradise,
but hardened and impenitent men. How then,
can you say that the mercy of God is circum
scribed! What! is it imposible for God to be
merciful unless he reward your crimes? Is no

thing mercy with you, but that which permits
a universal inundation of vice?

You still say, if the conditions of the new
covenant are such as you have laid down, it i*
then an arduous task to become a Christian,
and consequently very difficult to obtain salva
tion. But do you think, my brethren, that we
are discouraged at the difficulty* Know you
not, that " strait is the gate, and narrow is the
way, that leadeth unto life?" Matt. vii. 14.
Know you not, that we must " pluck out the
eye, and cut off the hand?" ver. 29. Sur
mount the most dear and delicate propensities;
dissolve the ties of flesh and blood, of nature
and self-attachment. Know you not, that we
must " crutify the old man, and deny ourselves?"
xvi. 24. Know you not, that " we must add
to our faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to
knowledge patience, to patience brotherly kind
ness, to brotherly kindness charity, and to cha
rity godliness," 2 Pet. i. 5.

But you add, that few persons will then bo
saved; another objection we little fear, though,
perhaps, it would have been unanswerable, had
not Jesus Christ himself taught us to reply. —
But is this a new gospel? Is it a new doctrine
to say, that few shall be saved? Has not Jesus
Christ himself declared it3 I will address my
self, on this subject, to those who understand
the elucidation of types. I will adduce one
type, a very distinguished type, a type not
equivocal but terrific; it is the unhappy multi
tude of Israel, who murmured against God,
after being saved from the land of Egypt. —
The object of their journey was Canaan. Deut.
i. 35, 36. God performed innumerable mira
cles to give them the land; the sea opened and
gave them passage; bread descended from hea
ven to nourish them; water issued from the
deaf rock to quench their thirst. There was
but one in which they failed; they never en
tered into Canaan: there were but two adults,
among all these myriads, who found admission.
What is the import of this type? The very
thing to which you object. The Israelites re
present these hearers; the miracles represent
the efforts of Providence for your salvation;
Canaan is the figure of paradise, for which you
hope, and Caleb and Joshua alone were admit
ted into the land, which so many miracles had
apparently promised to the whole nation. What
do these shadows adumbrate to the Christian
world? My brethren, I do not dare to make
the application. I leave with you this object
for contemplation; this terrific subject for seri
ous reflection.

But you still ask, " why do you preach to us
such awful doctrine? It subverts religion; it
drives people to despair." Great risk, Indeed,
and imminent danger of driving to despair, the
men whom I attack! Suppress the poison, re
move the dagger, exclude the idea of death
from the mind, until the recollection of their
sins shall drive them to the last extremity. —
But why? The characters whom we have de
scribed, those nominal men of apathy, those in
dolent souls, those hearts sold to the world and
its pleasures, have they weak and delicate con
sciences, which we ought to spare, and for
whom we ought to fear, lest the displays of di
vine justice should produce effects too severe

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

259

and strong? Ah! unhappy people, even to
mention difficulties of this nature. If you
were already stretched on a dying bed; already
come to the close of a criminal course; if hel
had opened beneath to swallow you up; if you
had no resource but the last efforts of an ex
piring soul, then you would be worthy of pity.
But you are yet alive; grace is offered; all the
avenues of repentance are open to you; " the
Lord may yet be found:" there is not one
among you, but may call upon him with suc
cess. Yet you devote the whole of life to the
world; you confirm the habits of corruption;
and when we warn you, when we unmask your
turpitude, when we discover the abyss into
which you precipitate yourselves by choice,
you complain that it is driving you to despair!
Would to God that our voice might be exalted
like thunder, and the brightness of our dis
course be as that which struck St. Paul on the
road to Damascus; prostrating you, like that
apostle, at the feet of the Lord! Would to
God that the horrors of despair, and the fright
ful images of hell, might fill you with salutary
fear, inducing you to avoid it! Would to God
that your body might, from this moment, " be
delivered to Satan, that the spirit might be
saved in the day of the Lord," 1 Cor. v. 3.

It rests with you, my brethren, to apply these
truths; and to profit by the means which Pro
vidence this day affords for your conversion.
If there yet remains any resources, any hopes
for the man who delays conversion, it is not
with ministers of the gospel to point them out.
We are not the plenipotentiaries of our reli
gion; we are the ambassadors of Christ; we
have explicit instructions, and our commission
prescribed. God requires that we publish his
covenant, that we promise you every aid of
grace, that we open the treasures of mercy,
that we lead you to heavenly places by the
track, sprinkled with the blood of the Saviour
of the world. But each of these privileges
has conditions annexed, the nature of which
you have heard. Comply with them, repent,
give your conversion solid, habitual, and effec
tive marks; then the treasures of grace are
yours. But if you should persist in sin (to tell
you truths to-day, which, perhaps, would be
useless to-morrow,) if you should persist dur
ing life, and till the approaches of death, and
the horrors of hell shall extort from you protes
tations of reform, and excite in you the sem
blance of conversion, we cannot, without doing
violence to our instructions, and exceeding our
commission, speak peace to your souls, and
make you offers of salvation.

These considerations must exculpate minis
ters of the gospel, who know how to maintain
the majesty of their mission, and correspond
with their character. And if they exculpate
us not in your estimation, they will justify us,
at least, in the great day, when the most secret
things shall be adduced in evidence. You are
not properly acquainted with our ministry. —
You call us to the dying, who we know to have
been wicked, or far from conforming to the
conditions of the new covenant. This wicked
man, on the approach of death, composes him
self ; he talks solely of repentance, of mercy,
and of tears. On seeing this exterior of con- j
version, vou would have us presume, that such

a man is more than converted; and, in that
rash conclusion, you would have us offer him
the highest place in the mansions of the blessed.

But wo, wo to those ministers, who, by a
cruel lenity, precipitate souls into hell, under
the delusion of opening to them the gates of
paradise. Wo to that minister, who shall be
so prodigal of the favours of God. Instead
of speaking peace to such a man, " I would
cry aloud; I would lift up my voice like a
trumpet; I would shout," Isa. Iviii. 1. "I
would thunder; I would shoot against him the
arrows of the Almighty; I would make him
" suck the venom," Job vi. 4. Happy, if I
might irradiate passions so inveterate; if I
might save by fear; if I might pluck from the
burning, a soul so hardened in sin.

But if, as it commonly occurs, this dying
man shall devote to his conversion but an ex
hausted body, and the last sighs of expiring
life; wo, wo again, to that minister of the gos
pel, who, by a relaxed policy, shall, so to speak,
come to canonize this man, as though he had
died " the death of the righteous!" Let no
one ask, What would you do? Would you
trouble the ashes of the dead? Would you
drive a family to despair? Would you affix a
brand of infamy on a house? — What would I
do? I would maintain the interests of my
Master; I would act becoming a minister of
Jesus Christ; I would prevent your taking an
anti-Christian death for a happy death; I would
profit by the loss I have now described; and
hold up this prey of the devil as a terror to
the spectators, to the family, and to the whole
church.

Would you know, my dear brethren, which
s the way to prevent such great calamities?
Would you know what is the accepted time to
mplore forgiveness, and to derive the Holy
Spirit into your heart? It is this moment, it is
now. " Seek ye the Lord while he may be
found." Yes, he may be found to-day: he
may be found in this assembly; he may be
"ound under the word we are now speaking;
le may be found under the exhortations we
jive in his name; he may be found in the re
morse, the anguish, the emotions, excited in
your hearts, and which say, on his behalf,
' seek ye my face." He may be found in your
closets, where he offers to converse with you
n the most tender and familiar manner: he
may be found among the poor, among the sick,
among those dying carcases, among those liv-
ng images of death, and the tomb, which soli
cit your compassion; and which open to you
the way of charity that leads to God, who is
charity itself. He may be found to-day, but
jerhaps to-morrow he will be found no more.
Perhaps, to-morrow you may seek in vain; per-
laps, to-morrow your measure may be full;
jerhaps, to-morrow grace may be for ever
withdrawn; perhaps, to-morrow the -sentence
which must decide your eternal destiny shall
>e pronounced!

Ah! who can estimate the value of a mo
ment so precious! Ah! who can compare his
tituation with thf> unhappy victims, that divine
rengeance has immolated in hell, and for whom
'time is no longer!" Ah! who, on withdraw
ing from this temple, instead of so much vain
conversation and criminal dissipation, would

2(50

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXI.

not prostrate himself at the footstool of the Di
vine Majesty; weeping for the past, reforming
the present, and taking salutary precautions for
the future. Ah! who would not force him by
broken sighs, by fervent prayers, by torrents of
tears, never to depart! Who would not say,
and more with his heart than with his mouth,
" Siay with me, Lord; I will not let thee go,
until thou hast blessed me," Gen. xxxii. 20;
until thou hast vanquished my corruption, and
given me the earnest of my salvation. The
time of my visitation is almost expired; I see it,
I know it, I feel it; my conversion requires a
miracle; I ask this miracle of thee, and am re
solved to obtain it of thy compassion.

My brethren, my dear brethren, we have no
expressions sufficiently tender, no emotions suf
ficiently pathetic, no prayers sufficiently fer
vent, to draw you to these duties. Let your
zeal supply our weakness. If we have bran
dished before your eyes the sword of divine
vengeance, it is not to destroy you, but to save
you; it is not to drive you to despair, but to in
duce you "to sorrow after a godly sort, and
with a repentance not to be repented of," 2
Cor. ii. 10. It is incumbent on each of you
who hear,,and regard what I say, to participate
in these advantages. May you, from the pre
sent moment, form a resolution to profit by an
opportunity so precious. May the hour of your
death, corresponding with the sincerity of your
resolutions, and with the holiness of your lives,
open to you the gates of heaven, and enable
you to find in glory that God, whom you shall
have found merciful in this church. God grant
you grace so to do. To Father, Son, and Holy
Spirit, be honour arid glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXXI.

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

PART III.

ISAIAH Iv. 6.
Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call yf\
upon him while he is near.

EXPERIENCE, my brethren, is a great teacher;
it is a professor which adduces clear, solid, and
indisputable proofs. Reason is an admirable
endowment, given us as a guide in our re
searches after truth. Revelation has been happi
ly added to reason, to correct and guide it; but
both have their difficulties. Reason is circum
scribed, its views are confined, its deviations
frequent; and the false inferences we perceive
it deduces, render doubtful its most clear and
evident conclusions. Revelation, however ve
nerable its tribunal, however infallible its de
cisions, " is foolishness," says the apostle, " to
the natural man;" it is exposed to the glosses
of erroneous critics, to the difficulties of here
tics, and the contradictions of infidels. But
experience is without exception; it speaks to
the heart, to the senses, and the understand- !
ing; it neither reasons nor debates, but carries \
conviction and proof. It so commands the ,
consent of the Christian, the philosopher, and
even the atheist, that nothing but mental de- |
rangement can revoke its decisions in doubt.

This is the grand instructer that must preach !

to-day in this pulpit. In illustrating the words
of the text, it was not sufficient that we demon
strated, in our preceding discourses, from rea
son and Scripture, the folly of the sinner, who
delays his conversion; it was not sufficient that
philosophy and religion have both concurred to
prove, that in order to labour successfully at
the work of salvation, we must begin in early
life, in the time of health, and in the days of
youth. We will prove it by experience; we
will demonstrate it by sad tests and instances
of the truths we have delivered; we will pro
duce to you awful declarations of the wrath of
heaven, which cry to you with a strong and
tender voice, " Seek ye the Lord while he may
be found, call ye upon him while he is near."

These witnesses, these tests, these examples
shall be adduced from persons, who once stood
in your present situation; acquainted with the
will of God, warned by his servant, and living,
as St. Peter expresses himself, " at a period, in
which the long-suffering of God awaited them,"
1 Pet. hi. 20. And you, even you, Christians,
must one day become what they now are,
awful examples of the wrath of God; eterna.
monuments of his indignation and vengeance;
unless your eyes, opened by so much light, un
less your hearts, impressed by so many motives,
unless your consciences, alarmed by the dread
ful judgments of God, shall take measures to
prevent the sentence, already prepared in his
eternal counsels, and whose execution is at the
door.

But does it not seem to you, my brethren,
that we undertake a task too arduous, when
we engage to prove, from experience, that the
long-suffering of God is restricted; and that, by
delaying conversion, we risk the total frustra
tion of the work? You have already alleged, I
am aware, an almost infinite number of sinners,
who apparently subvert our principles; so many
servants, called at the eleventh hour, so many
hearts, which grace has -changed in a moment;
so many penitents, who, in the first essays of
repentance, have found the arms of mercy open;
and whose happy success consoles, to the pre
sent hour, the imitators of their crimes.

We shall hear your reasons, before we pro
pose our own. We would leave nothing be
hind, which might occasion a mistake, in which
it is so dangerous to be deceived. Our dis
course shall turn on these two points: first, we
shall examine the cases of those sinners which
seem to favour the conduct of those who delay
conversion; then we shall allege, in the second
place, those which confirm our principle, and
make a direct attack on security and delay.

I. We shall examine the case of those sin
ners, which seem to militate against what we
have advanced in the preceding discourses.
All that we then advanced, may be comprised
under two heads. We said, first, that in order
to acquire the habit of piety, there was but one
way, the daily exercise of all its duties. We
affirmed, secondly, that the period of mercy t
is restricted; and that we risk a total exclusion
when we offer to God only the last groans of
expiring life. We founded our first proposition
on the force of habits, and on the nature of the
Holy Spirit's economy, who, for the most part,
abandons to their own turpitude, those that re
sist his grace. This was the subject of our first

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

261

sermon, and the second part of the other. We
established our second proposition on the new
covenant, which offers us mercy, solely on con
dition of repentance, faith, and the love of God;
consequently, which renders dubious the state
of those, who have not bestowed upon those
virtues, the time adequate to their acquisition.
These are the two principal heads, which com
prise all that we have advanced upon this sub
ject.

You may also oppose to us two classes of
examples. In the first class you may arrange
those instantaneous conversions and changes,
which grace has effectuated in a moment by a
single stroke; and which apparently destroy
what we have advanced on the force of habits,
and the nature of the economy of the Holy
Spirit. In the second class, you will put those
other sinners, who, after the perpetration of
enormous crimes, have obtained remission by a
sign, by a prayer, by a few tears; and who af
ford presumptive hopes, that to whatever ex
cess we may have carried our crimes, we shall
never exceed the terms of mercy, or obstruct
reception at the throne of grace. Let us con-
eider the difficulties which may be drawn from
both these sources.

You adduce first those sudden conversions,
those instantaneous changes on the spot, with
out difficulty, labour, and repeated endeavours.
Of this class, we have various examples in
Scripture. We have Simon, we have Andrew,
we have James the son of Zebedee, and most
of the apostles, whom Jesus Christ found cast
ing their nets into the sea, and engaged in the
humble trade of fishing, or collecting the tri
bute; and who were instantaneously, and on the
spot, endued with divine thoughts, new desires,
and heavenly propensities; who, from the mean
est artisans became the heralds of the gospel;
formed the noble design of conquering the uni
verse, and subjugating the whole world to the
empire of their Master.

With this class, may also be associated the
example of Zaccheus; who seems to have been
renovated in a moment, and to have reformed
on the spot, and without the previous duties
of piety, a passion the most obstinate, which
grows with age, and from which scarcely any
one is converted. He assumed a language un
heard of in the mouth of a merchant, and es
pecially a covetous merchant: " The half of
my goods I give to feed the poor; and if I have
taken any thing from any man by false accusa
tion, I restore him fourfold," Luke xix. 8. To
the same class you may add those thousands
of persons who changed their faith and reform
ed their lives, on the first preaching of the
apostles.

After so many trophies erected to the power
of grace, what becomes of your arguments, you
say, on the force of habits, on the genius of the
Holy Spirit's economy? Who will dare to main
tain, after the adduction of these that habits of
piety may not be acquired without labour, fa
tigue, and the duties of devotion? Why may I
not promise myself, after devoting the most of
my life to pleasure, to have the same power
over my heart as Zaccheus, the apostles, and
first converts to Christianity? Why may I not
expect the irradiations which enlightened, the
aids which attracted, and the omnipotent

power, which converted them in a moment?
Why should I make myself a perpetual martyr
to forward a work, which one of those happy
moments shall perfectly consummate? These
are the first difficulties, and the first examples,
you adduce.

You oppose, in the second plea, the case of
those sinners, who, after committing the great
est crimes, have found, on the first efforts of
repentance, the arms of mercy open for their
reception. Of this class, there are many in the
Scriptures; the principal are that of David;
that of St. Peter; that of St. Paul; and that of
the converted thief, which has a nearer con
nexion with our subject than any of the others.
These are names, which the wicked have con
tinually in their mouths; and it must be ac
knowledged, that they are distinguished monu
ments of divine mercy. It would seem that
you may deduce from them this consequence,
that to whatever degree you may have carried
vice, there is some ground to expect pardon
and salvation.

After so many examples of divine mercy,
sinners will readily say, how is it that you
alarm us with so many fears? Why draw so
many terrific portraits of the justice of God?
And why exclude the sinner, however corrupt,
from t^e throne of grace? I who may have a
secret intrigue, scarcely suspected, very far
from being known to the world, shall I have
more difficulty in obtaining mercy than David.'-^
who committed adultery in the face of all Is\
rael? I who may have absented myself for a
time from the true church, shall I have more
difficulty in obtaining mercy than St. Paul,
who persecuted the saints; or St. Peter, who
openly denied his Master, and in his Master's
presence? I who have not directly robbed, but
have been contented with acquiring goods by
means clandestine indeed, but at the same time
sanctioned by example, by custom, by the
usages of fraud, and art; by palliated lies, and
oaths contrary to truth, but essential in the
employment to which I am providentially call
ed; shall I be more culpable than the convert
ed thief who robbed on the highway? What
should hinder me then from following those
personages in vice during life, reserving time
to throw myself into the arms of mercy, and
imitate their repentance, in my last hours?

Have you, sinners, said enough? Are these
all your hidden things of dishonesty, and all the
frivolous pretences in which you are cradled
by the demon of security? See then to what
tends your religion, and the use you make of
our Scriptures. The Holy Spirit has there
delineated the lives of those illustrious men
who once were vessels of honour in the Lord's
house; he has " surrounded you with a cloud
of witnesses," for animation in your course,
by the example of men like yourselves, who
have finished it with joy. He has also left
you a history of their defects, to excite you to
vigilance, saying to every sinner, take care, if
those distinguished saints stumbled, what will
thy fall be when thou shall relax? If those
main pillars have been shaken, what has not
the bruised reed to fear? If the cedars of Le
banon have been ready to tumble, what shall
be the destiny of the hyssop of the wall? To
those reflections you are deaf; and to deceive

•262

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

. LXXXI

the Eternal Wisdom, and " to be wiser in your
Foolish generation," than the Father of lights
himself, you draw from these examples, design
ed to make you wise, motives to confirm you
in your crimes. We shall endeavour to ex
amine the whole of your sophisms.

We shall first make this general observation;
that when we said in the preceding discourse,
we must, in order to acquire the habit of piety,
perform its duties, and to obtain admission at
the throne of grace, we must demonstrate our
faith by a course of virtuous actions, we told
you only what commonly occurs in the course
of religion. We did not include in our re
marks, the overpowering and extraordinary
operations of grace. For God, who was pleas
ed sometimes to supersede the laws of nature,
supersedes also, on some occasions, the laws of
religion, by graciously enlarging the limits of
the new covenant. The laws followed in na
ture are wisely established. He has assigned a
pavilion to the sun, and balanced the earth on
its poles. He has prescribed boundaries to the
sea, and obliged this impetuous element to re
spect the commands of its Creator. " Hither
to shalt thou come, but no farther; and here
shall thy proud waves be stayed," Job xxxviii.
11. We have likewise seen him supersede the
laws of nature, and discover as much wisdom
in their suspension as he manifested in their
establishment. We have sometimes seen the
earth quake; the sun stop and suspend his
course; the waters of the sea advancing before,
or retiring behind, " divide themselves as a
wall on the right hand, and on the left," Exod.
xiv. 22, as well to favour his chosen people, as
to confound the rebellious nation. Just so the
laws of religion, and the conditions of his
covenant, are also perfectly wise, and equally
founded on goodness and equity; meanwhile
God is pleased sometimes to suspend them,
and to enlarge the limits of grace.

This thought aptly applies to many of the
cases you adduce, and particularly to instanta
neous conversions. They are not the usual
way in which the Holy Spirit proceeds; they
do not occur in the ordinary course of religion.
They are exceptions to the general laws; they
are miracles. Instead, therefore, of judging
of the general laws of religion, by these parti
cular instances, you should rectify your notion
of them by those general laws. Ah! temporiz
ing directors, apostate casuists, pests of the
public, you compose your penitents with de
ceitful hope. This is our first solution.

When a physician, after exhausting all the
powers of art to restore the sick, finds his pre
scriptions baffled, his endeavour without effect,
and his skill destitute of resource; when he
finds the brain delirious, the circulation of the
blood irregular, the chest oppressed, and na
ture ready to fall under the pressure of disease,
he says, it is a lost case. He presumes not to
say, that God cannot heal him; nor that he has
never seen a recovery in similar circumstances;
he speaks according to the course of nature;
he judges according to the rules of art; he de
cides as a physician, and not as a worker of
miracles. Just so, when we see a man in the
church, who has persisted thirty, forty, or fifty
years in a course of crimes; when we see this

man struck with death, that his first concern is
for the health of his body, that he calls both
nature and art to his assistance; but his hopes
being lost, with regard to the world, he turns
his attention towards religion; he makes a
mighty ado about conversion; he weeps, he
groans, he prays; that he discovers to us the
semblance of repentance and conversion: we
aver that this man's state is doubtful, and ex
ceedingly doubtful. But we speak according
to the ordinary course of religion: knowing
that God is almighty, we exclude not the oc
currence of miracles. Hence all the cases you
adduce are prodigies of conversion, in which
God has exceeded ordinary laws, and from
which no conclusions can be drawn; and all
that you add on the power of God, on the ir
resistible, renovating, and victorious efficacy
of grace, however solid on other occasions,
when applied to this subject, are empty de
clamations, and foreign to the point.

But are all those examples of conversion and
repentance miracles? No, my brethren, nor is
this the whole of our reply: and had we prov
ed that they are all such in effect, we should
indeed have done little, and you might have
returned home, flattered, perhaps, that God
would work the same prodigies for you in a
dying hour. Let us enter into a more minute
discussion; let us remark, — and this is our
grand solution, — let us remark, that among all
the sinners whose conversion you adduce, there
is not one, no not one, in the condition of the
Christian, who neglecting his salvation, pre
sumes to offer to God only the dregs of life,
and the last groans of expiring nature. No;
of all those sinners, there is not one who was
in the situation of such a man; consequently,
there is not one, no not one, who can afford
the shadow of a rational excuse to flatter the
men we now attack. Let us illustrate this re
flection; it is of the last importance. You
may remark five essential distinctions. They
differed — either with regard to their light — or
with regard to their motives — or with regard
to the duration of their crime — or with regard
to their virtues — or with regard to the certain
ty of their repentance and conversion: five
considerations, my brethren, which you cannot
too deeply inculcate on your minds. Some of
them apply to the whole, others to a part.
Let each of you apply to himself that portion
of our remarks on these conversions which
corresponds with his case.

Speaking first of the illumination of those
two classes of sinners, we affirm that there is
an essential difference between the men whose
example is adduced, and the Christians who
delay conversion. Of all those sinners, there
was not one, who possessed the light which
we have at the present day. Zaccheus, the
apostle, the prophets, David, and all the per
sons at the period in question, were in this re
spect inferior to the most ignorant Christian.
Jesus Christ has decided, that "the least in
the kingdom of heaven is greater than they,"
Luke vii. 28. St. Peter had not seen the re
surrection of his Master, when he had the
weakness to deny him. The converted thief,
had, perhaps, never heard his name, while
abandoned to his crimes; and St. Paul, while

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

263

persecuting the church, followed the old pre
judices of Judaism, " he did it ignorantly," as
he himself affirms, 1 Tim. i. 13

This is the first consideration which aggra
vates your condemnation, and renders your
salvation doubtful, if you defer the work.
" The grace of God has appeared to all men."
You are born in so enlightened an age, that
the human mind seems to have attained the
highest period of perfection to which its weak
ness will permit it to arrive. Philosophy has
been disencumbered of all ambiguous terms,
of all useless punctilios, and of all the pom
pous nothings, which confused, rather than
formed the minds of youth; and our systems
of moral philosophy seem to have attained per
fection. Theology is purged, at least on most
subjects, and would to God that it was alto
gether purged of the abstruse researches, and
trifling disquisitions, which amused our fathers.
If some weak minds still follow the former no
tions, they only render themselves ridiculous,
weary the people, disgust the learned, and are
left to detail their maxims to the dusty walls
of their half deserted schools.

How clearly have they proved, for instance,
the being of God? On how many clear, easy,
and demonstrative evidences, have they esta
blished this fundamental article of religion?
How clearly have they illustrated the doctrine
of the immortality of the soul? How admira
bly has philosophy coincided with religion on
this article, to disengage spirit from matter, to
mark the functions of each substance, to dis
tinguish which belongs to the body, and which
to the mind? How clearly also have they
proved the truth of religion? With what in
dustry have they investigated the abyss of an
cient literature, demonstrated and rendered
palpable the prodigies achieved seventeen cen
turies ago?

I speak not this to make an eulogium on our
age, and elevate it in your esteem. I have,
my brethren, views more exalted. All the
knowledge of this period is dispensed by that
wise Providence which watches over your sal
vation, and it will serve for your refutation.
The economy of the Holy Spirit, who illumi
nates your mind, has been fully discussed. If,
therefore, it be true, that the atrocity of sin is
proportionate to the knowledge of the delin
quent; — if it be true, that those " who know
their Master's will, and do it not, shall be
punished with more stripes than those who
are ignorant and negligent," Luke xii. 47; — if
it be true, that the sin of such persons remains,
as Jesus Christ has affirmed, John ix. 41; — if
it be true, that " it were better not to have
known the way of righteousness, than to turn
from the holy commandment," 2 Pet. ii. 21; —
if it be true, that God will require five talents
of those who have received five, while those
who have received but two shall be account
able but for two, Matt. xxv. — If it be true, that
it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon,
than for Chorazin and Bethsaida; — it is also
true, that your arguments are sophistical; that
the example of those sinners can afford you
nothing but deceitful hopes, which flatter the
delay of conversion.

From this last consideration arises another,

which constitutes a second difference; that is,
the motives which press you to conversion
were scarcely known to the others. You are
pressed more than they by motives of grati
tude. What were all the favours which they
received of God, in comparison of those which
are heaped on you; you are born in "an ac
cepted time, in a day of salvation," 1 Cor. vi.
2; in those happy days " which so many right
eous men, and prophets had desired to see,"
Matt. xiii. 17. You are pressed more than
they by motives of interest, "you have receiv
ed of his fulness, and grace for grace," John i.
16; you to whom Christ has "revealed im
mortality and life," 2 Tim. i. 10; who having
received such promises you ought to be the
more separated " from all filthiness of the flesh
and of the spirit," — more than they, by mo
tives of fear, "for knowing the terrors of the
Lord," you ought to be the more obedient to
his will. More than they by motives of emu
lation; you have not only " the cloud of wit
nesses," but the grand pattern, the model of
perfect'on, who has left us so fine an example
that we should tread in his steps; who has
said, " Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly
of heart," Matt. xi. 29. Looking unto Jesus
the author and finisher of your faith; you
ought, according to St. Paul's exhortation, to
be induced " not to cast away your confi
dence," Heb. x. 35. More than they by the
grandeur of your heavenly birth; " you have
not received the spirit of bondage unto fear,
but the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry,
Abba, Father," Rom. viii. 15.

What is the result of all these arguments?
If you have more motives, you are more cul
pable; and if you are more culpable, the mercy
which they have obtained, concludes nothing
in your favour; and the objection, which you
derive from example, is altogether sophistical.
And what is worse, this superabundance of
motives renders your conversion more difficult,
and thereby destroys the hopes you found on
their example. For though the Holy Spirit
has a supreme power over the heart, nothing,
however, is more certain, that in promoting
our conversion, he acts with us as rational be
ings, and in conformity to our nature; he pro
poses motives, and avails himself of their force,
to induce us to duty. Consequently, when the
heart has long resisted the grand motives of
conversion, it thereby becomes obdurate.

How were those miraculous conversions ef
fectuated to which you appeal? It was in a
way totally inapplicable to you. The first
time Zaccheus saw Jesus Christ, he received
the promise of salvation. Zaccheus feeling,
by the efficacy of grace, the force of a motive
which had never been proposed before, yielded
mmediately without hesitation. The converts,
on the day of Pentecost, were in suspense con
cerning what opinion they should form of
Jesus Christ: they had crucified him in igno
rance, and Jerusalem remained undecided what
to think of him after his death. The apostles
preached; they proved by their miracles the
truth of his resurrection. Then those men,
being struck with motives never before pro
posed, yielded at once. Thus the Holy Spirit
operated in their hearts; but in a manner con-

264

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXI.

formable to their nature, proposing motives,
and employing their force to captivate the
heart.

But these operations of the Holy Spirit have
lost their effect with regard to you. What
motives can be in future proposed, which have
not been urged a thousand times, and which
have consequently lost their efficacy? Is it the
mercy of God? That you have turned into
lasciviousness. Is it the image of Jesus Christ
crucified? Him you daily crucify afresh, with
out remorse and without repentance. Is it the
hope of heaven? You look only at " the things
which are seen." Is it the fear of hell? That
has been painted a thousand and a thousand
times, and you have acquired the art of braving
its terrors and torments. If God should, there
fore, employ in your behalf the same degree
of power, which effectuated those instantane
ous conversions, it would be found insufficient;
if he should employ for you the same miracle,
that miracle would be too weak. It would re
quire a more abundant portion of grace to con
vert you, than it did to convert the others;
consequently, a miracle, less distinguished than
was afforded them, concludes nothing in favour
of that, which is the object of your hope, and
the flimsy foundation of your security.

A third difference is derived from the dura
tion of their crimes. Of all the sinners we
have enumerated, if we may except the con
verted thief, there is not one who persevered
in vice to the close of life. St. Peter, St. Paul,
and David, were but a few moments, but a
few days, or a few years at most, entangled in
sin. They consecrated the best part of life to
the service of God. They were unfaithful in
a few instances, but afterward their fidelity
was unremitting.

Their fall shook their confidence, but did
not overthrow it: it was enveloped, but not
choked; obscured, but not extinguished.

I acknowledge the good thief seems to have,
with the sinners we attack, the sad conformity
of persisting in vice to the end of life. But
his history is so short in the gospel, the circum>
stances related are so few, and the conjectures
we may make on this subject are so doubtful
and uncertain, that a rational man can find in
it, no certain rule for the regulation of his
conduct.

Who was this thief? What was his crime?
What induced him to commit it? What was
the first instance of his depravity? What was
that of his repentance? What means did grace
employ for his conversion? So many questions,
so many doubts, so many sufficient reasons for
inferring nothing from his conversion. Per
haps he had been engaged in this awful course
but a short time. Perhaps, seduced by an un
happy ease, he was less guilty of theft than of
softness and compliance. Perhaps only the
accomplice of Barabbas in sedition, he had less
design of disturbing society, than of checking
the tyrannic and exorbitant power of the Ro
mans. Perhaps, surprised by weakness, or
tempted by necessity, he had received sentence
for his first offence. Perhaps, having languish
ed a long time in prison, he had repented of
his sin. We do not affirm these things, they
are merely conjectures; but all that you can
object are similar conjectures, which may be

refuted with the same ease. And though the
whole of these probabilities were refuted, how
many criminating circumstances occur in your
life which were not in his? We said, that he
had not received the^education which you have;
he had not received the torrent of grace, with
which you are inundated; he was unacquainted
with a thousand motives, which operate on
you; the moment he saw Jesus Christ, he
loved him, and he believed on him. How was
that? With what faith? At what time? In a
manner the most heroic in the world: a faith
like his was never found in Israel. At the
time when Jesus Christ was fixed on the cross;
when he was pierced with the nails; when he
was delivered to an infuriated populace; when
they spit upon him; when he was mocked by
the Greek; when he was rejected by the Jew;
when he was betrayed by Judas; when St. Peter
denied him; when his disciples fled; when Jesus
made himself of no reputation, and took upon
himself the form of a servant, the thief, — the
thief seemed to have taken all the faith to him
self, and to constitute the whole church.
After all, this is but a solitary example: if the
converted thief afford you consolation in your
crimes, tremble, tremble sinners, when you cast
your eyes on him, who was hardened at his
side; and let the singularity of this late con
version induce you to fear, lest you should not
have been chosen of God, to furnish to the
universe a second proof of the success of a con
version deferred to the hour of death.

A fourth reflection turns on the virtues of
those sinners, whose example you adduce. For
though one criminal habit may suffice, where
repentance is wanting, to plunge into the abyss,
him who is enslaved with it, whatever his vir
tues may be; yet there is a vast disparity be
tween the state of two men, one of whom has
fallen, indeed, into a crime, but who otherwise
has the virtues of a great saint; and the other
of whom has fallen into the same crime, but is
wanting in those virtues. You bear with a
fault in a servant, when he is well qualified
for your service; but this defect would be in
supportable in the person of another, destitute
of those talents.

Apply this remark to the subject in hand.
It is to inquire, whether God will extend his
mercy to you after the perpetration of notori
ous offences. You allege, for your comfort,
the case of those sinners who have obtained
mercy; after having proceeded in vice, at least,
according to your opinion, as far as yourselves.
Take two balances: weigh with one hand their
crimes and your crimes: weigh with the other
their virtues and your virtues. If the weights
are equal, your argument is conclusive: the
grace which they have obtained, is an infallible
test that you shall not be excluded. But if
you should find, on inquiry, a difference; if
you should find, on your dying bed, that you
have resembled them in what is odious, and
not in what is acceptable, do you not perceive,
my brethren, the impropriety of your presump
tion, and the absurdity of your hopes?

Now, who is there, who is there among us,
who abandons himself to vice, that will corn-
pare himself with those illustrious saints in
regard to virtue; as it is readily acknowledged
that they resemble them in regard to faults?

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

265

You follow, to-day, the multitude to do evil, as
Zaccheus, and, as the apostles before their con
version: -so far the parallel is just; but can you
prove, like them, that you obeyed the first calls
of Jesus Christ; that you have never been of
fended, either with the severity of his precepts,
or with the bloody horrors of his cross and mar
tyrdom? You sacrifice, like David, to an impu
dent Bathsheba, the rights of the Lord, who
enjoins temperance and modesty: so far the
parallel is just; but have you, like him, had
" the law of God in your heart?" Have you,
like him, " rose at midnight, to sing praises to
God?" Have you, like him, made charity
your glory, and piety your delight? You per
secute the church, like St. Paul, by your mali
cious objections, and profane sneers; you draw
away disciples, as the zealot once did, by per
secutions and punishments: so far the parallel
is just; but have you asked Jesus Christ, as he
did, the first moment he appeared to him in
the way to Damascus, " Lord, what wouldst
thou have me to do?" Have you neither con
ferred with flesh nor blood, when required, like
him, to go up to Jerusalem, and abjure the
prejudices of your fathers? Has your zeal re
sembled his, so as to feel your spirit stirred
within you, at the sight of a superstitious altar?
And has your love resembled his, so as to be
milling to be accursed for your brethren? You
have denied Jesus Christ, as St. Peter; and
that criminal laxity, which^ induced you to
comply in such and such company, when virtue
was attacked, has made you like this apostle,
who denied him in the court of Caiaphas: so
far the parallel is just; but have you, like him,
burned with zeal for the interests of his glory?
Have you said, with an ardour like his, " Lord,
thou knowest that I love thee?" Have you,
like him, prodigal of your blood, been ready
to seal the truths of the gospel; and, after be
ing made a spectacle to the world, are you,
like him, ready to be offered up? You, like
the thief, have that false weight, and that short
measure, which you secretly use on your
counter, and in your warehouse; or that au
thority which you openly abuse in the face of
the world, and on the seat of justice: you
liberal culprits, who, perhaps, have imposed
on strangers, or attacked them with open
force: so far the parallel is just; but have
you, like him, had eyes, which penetrated
through the clouds, with which Christ was
surrounded on the cross? Have you, like him,
discovered the God of heaven and earth, in
the person of the crucified Redeemer? Have
you, like him, repaired, with the sincerity of
your expiring breath, the crimes of your whole
life? If the parallel be still just, your argu
ment is good, and your recourse to mercy shall
be attended with the same success. But if
the parallel be defective; if you find, on your
death-bed, that you have followed those cha
racters solely in what was sinful, then your
argument is false; and you ought, at least, to
relinquish the hopes you have founded on their
examples.

5. We find, in short, another difference be
tween the men who delay conversion, and the
sinners, whose cases they adduce; it is certain
that they were converted and obtained mercy,
whereas it is extremely doubtful whether the
VOL. II..-34

others shall ever obtain It, and be converted.
What, according to your mode of arguing,
constitutes the strength of your objection, be
comes the solidity of our reply. A sinner, in
the Career of crimes, is in a fluctuating condi
tion, placed between life and death; equally un
certain whether he shall obtain salvation, or
become the victim of perdition. These then,
men who delay conversion, these are the sin
ners we have to attack. You allege the case
of characters, whose state has been already de
termined; and whose repentance has been real
ized by experience. Each of these, while, like
you, habituated to vice, was, like you, uncer
tain whether they should obtain mercy, or
whether the door would be shut. Access has
been opened, pardon has been granted. Thus
the question is decided; and all doubts, with
regard to them, are done away.

But your situation is quite the reverse.
You have the sins of their fluctuating state,
not the grace of their determined condition,
which induces a favourable confidence. In
this painful suspense, who is in the right'
We, who tremble at the awful risk you run;
or you, who rely on the precarious hope of
extricating yourselves from sin? Who is in
the right? Those accommodating guides, who,
in your greatest profligacy, continually assure
you of the divine mercy, which serves merely
as a pretext to confirm you in crimes; or we.
who brandish before your eyes the awful sword
of justice, to alarm your indolence, and rouse
you from soft security?

Collect now, my brethren, all this variety of
reflections; and, if there remain with you a
shadow of honesty, renounce the advantage
you pretend to derive from these examples.
Consider, that many of these conversions are
not only out of the common course of religion,
but also that they could not have been effec
tuated by less than miraculous powers. Con
sider that, among all those sinners, there was
not one in the situation of a Christian, who
delays conversion to the close of life. Consi
der that you are enlightened with meridian
lustre, which they have scarcely seen. Consi
der that you are pressed with a thousand mo
tives totally unknown to them. Consider,
that they continued, for the most part, but a
short time in sin; but you have wasted life in
folly. Consider, that they possessed distin
guished virtues, which rendered them dear to
God; but you have nothing to offer him but
dissipation or indolence. Consider, that they
were distinguished by repentance, and afforded
lasting proofs of their sincerity: whereas 'it is
still doubtful whether you shall ever be con
verted, and you go the way to make it impos
sible. See, then, whether your arguments are
just, and whether your hopes are properly
founded.

These examples, we acknowledge, my bre
thren, are very encouraging to those who dili
gently endeavour to reform. We delight in
enforcing them to those contrite and simple
souls; to consciences bruised and tender that
tremble at God's word. We came not to
straiten the way to heaven; we came not to
preach a severe morality, and to announce a
divinity ferocious and cruel. Would to God
that every sinner, in this assembly, would re-

266

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXL

collect himself, and swell the catalogue of con
verts, in which grace has been triumphant!
But hardened men can infer nothing hence,
except alarming considerations.

Hitherto we have examined the cases of
those sinners, who apparently contradict our
principles; let us, in the next place, briefly re
view those, by which they are confirmed.
Let us prove that the long-suffering of God
has its limits; and that in order to find him
propitious, we must " seek the Lord while he
may be found, and call upon him while he is
near." This is our second head.

II. Three distinguished classes of examples,
my brethren, three alarming monuments, con
firm those illustrious truths. These are —

I. Public catastrophes. II. Obdurate sin
ners. III. Dying men. — Happy are they who
are cautioned by the calamities of others!

I. Public catastrophes. There is to every
government, to every nation, and to every
church, a limited day of visitation: there is a
time in which the Lord may be found, and a
time in which he will not be found. " A time
when he may be found:" when commerce
flourishes, when families prosper, when armies
conquer, when politics succeed, when the tem
ples are open, when the solemn feasts are ob
served, and the faithful say one to another,
" O come, let us go up to the mountain of the
Lord.1' This is the time when the Lord may be
found. Happy time, which would have been
restricted only by the duration of the world,
had not the ingratitude of man introduced
another time, in which the Lord will not be
found. Then commerce! languishes, families
degenerate, armies are defeated, politics are
confused, churches are overturned, the solemn
feasts subside; " and the earth," according to
the expression of Moses, " vomiteth out its in
habitants."

Isaiah has given us a proof of this awful
truth, in the Jews of his own age. He preach
ed, he prayed, he exhorted, he threatened, he
thundered. How often was his voice heard in
the streets of Jerusalem! Sometimes he would
draw them with the cords of love; sometimes
he would save them " with fear, pulling them
out of the fire." How often did he thunder
those terrific words — " Behold the Lord, the
Lord of hosts, doth take away from Jerusalem,
and from Judah, the stay and the staff", the
whole stay of bread, and the whole stay of wa
ter; the mighty man, and the man of war; the
judge, and the prophet, and the prudent, and
the ancient, and the captain of fifty; and the
honourable man, and the counsellor, and cun
ning artificer, and the eloquent orator," Isa. iii.
1 — 3. How often did he say to them, by di
vine authority — " Hear ye what I will do to
my vineyard; I will take away the hedge there
of, and it shall be eaten up; and break down
the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down;
and I will lay it waste; it shall not be pruned
nor digged, but there shall come up briers and
thorns. I will also command the clouds, that
they rain no rain upon it," ver. 5, 6. How
often did he uplift the veil of future times, and
represent the Chaldeans approaching; Jerusa
lem besieged; the city encumbered with the
dead; the temple of the Lord reduced to heaps
of stones; the holy mountain streaming with

I blood; Judea buried in ashes, or swimming
' with the blood of its inhabitants? How often
with a voice yet more tender did he cry, " O
that thou hadst hearkened to my command
ment! Why should ye be stricken any more?
Ye will revolt more and more: the whole head
is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the
sole of the foot even unto the crown of the
head, there is no soundness in it," Isa. i. 5, 6.
" Howl, O gate, cry, O City, thou whole Pales-
tina art dissolved," Isa. xiv. 31. " Enter into
the rock, and hide thee in the dust for the fear
of the Lord," Isa. ii. 10. That was the time
to avert all these calamities; that was the aim
of the prophet and the design of our text.
But the Jews hardened themselves against his
voice. God pronounced the sentence; he exe
cuted his word: he commanded the Chaldeans
to invest the walls of Jerusalem; and then
says the sacred historian, " there was no reme
dy," 2 Chron. xxxvi. 16. The Israelites made
many efforts to appease the wrath of Heaven;
the aged raised aloud their plaintive and trem
bling voices, the young poured forth a mourn
ful and piercing cry; the daughters of Jerusa
lem lifted up their lamentations to Heaven
the priests wept aloud between the porch anr
the altar, they said a thousand and a thousan^
times, " Spare thy people, O Lord, and give
not thine heritage unto shame," Joel ii. 17.
But the deed was done, the time was past, the
Lord would not be found, and all this semblance
of repentance, the smallest portion of which
would perhaps, on another occasion, have suf
ficed to disarm the wrath of Heaven, was now
without effect. This is expressed in so noble
and energetic a manner, that we would for
ever imprint it on your memory. " The Lord
God of their fathers sent to them his messen
gers, rising up betimes and sending, because
he had compassion on his people. But they
mocked the messengers of God, and despised
his words, till the wrath of the Lord arose
against his people. Therefore he brought
upon them the king of the Chaldees, who slew
the young people with the sword, and had no
compassion on the young man, nor the aged,
nor the infirm. They burnt the house of God,
and demolished his palaces," 2 Chron. xxxvi.
15 — 17.

What happened to ancient Jerusalem, hap
pened also to modern Jerusalem; I would say,
Jerusalem as it stood in our Saviour's time. A
thousand oracles had predicted the advent of
the Messiah; the prophets had said that he
was about to come; St. John the Baptist af
firmed, that he was at the door; Jesus Christ
came, in short, saying, Here I am. He walked
in the streets of Jerusalem, he instructed them
by his doctrine, he astonished them by his mi
racles, he influenced them by his example; he
cried in their assemblies, " Walk while you
have the light, lest darkness come upon you,"
John xii. 35. " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou
that killest the prophets, and stonest them that
are sent unto thee, how often would I have
gathered thy children together, even as a hen
gathereth her chickens under her wings, and
ye would not," Matt, xxiii. 37. That was the
time; but they suffered the precious moments
to escape. And what did Jesus Christ add?
" He wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known,

SER. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

267

even thou, at least in this thy day, the things
which belong unto thy peace! but now they are
hid from thine eyes," Luke xix. 42. Do you
feel all the force of these last words, " now
they are hid from thine eyes?" Jerusalem was
not, however, yet destroyed; the temple still
stood; the Romans offered them peace; the
siege was not commenced; more than forty
years elapsed between the threatening and the
stroke. But, ah! from that time, from that
time, these things ivere hid from their eyes; from
that time their destruction was determined;
from that time their day of grace was expired,
and their ruin finally fixed. So true it is, that
the long-suffering of God is limited, and that
mercy cannot always be obtained at the ex
pected period, and precise moment on which
we had fondly relied.

But, my brethren, to whom do I preach?
To whom do I this day prove these melancholy
truths? Of whom is this audience composed?
Who are those " brands plucked from the
burning," and " come up out of great tribu
lation?" By what stroke of Providence is
the mass I now see convened from so many
provinces?* Whence are you? In what coun
try were you born? Ah! my brethren, you are
but too well instructed in the truths I now
preach! The time of long-suffering is limited;
need we prove it? Can you be ignorant of it?
Are you not witnesses of it by experience?
Are not our proofs sufficiently evident? Do
you ask for arguments more conclusive? Come,
see; let us go to the ruins of our temples: let
us survey the rubbish of our sanctuaries; let
us see our galley-slaves chained to the oar,
and our confessors in irons; let us see " the
land which has vomited us on the face of the
earth;" and the name of refugee, venerable shall
I call it, or the horrors of the whole world?
And to present you with objects still more af
fecting; let us see our brethren at the foot of
an altar which they believe idolatrous, mothers
preserving the fortune of their families at the
expense of their children's souls, whom they
devote to idolatry; and by a sad reverse, pre
serving that same fortune to their children at
the expense of their own souls.f Yield, yield
to our calamities, ye catastrophes of ages past!
Ye mothers whose tragic memory appals pos
terity, because you were compelled by the
horrors of the famine to eat the flesh of your j
sons, preserving your own life by snatching it j
from those who had received it of you! How- j
ever bloody your situation may be, you de- I
prived them after all but of a momentary life,
thereby saving both them and yourselves from
the horrors of famine. But here both are pre
cipitated into the same abyss. The mother,
by a prodigy unheard of, if I may so speak,
nourishes herself with the substance of her
son's soul, and the son in his turn nourishes
himself with the substance of his mother's
soul.

Ah! my brethren, these are our proofs; these
are our arguments; these are the solutions we

* France was then formed into twenty-four provinces,
now it is divided into about eighty-three departments.

f An edict was published by the king of France, com
manding his officers to confiscate the goods of those who
did not perform the acts of a good Catholic in their last
hour*.

give of your objections; this is really the time
in which " the Lord will not be found." For,
since your calamities, what efforts have been
used to terminate them, and to soften the ven
geance which pursues you! How many humili
ations! How many fasts! How many interces
sions! How many tears! How many protesta
tions! How many disconsolate mothers, satis
fied with the ruin of their families, have asked
no spoil, but the souls of their children! How
many Moseses, how many Samuels have stood
before God, and implored the liberation of his
church! But all in vain. The time was past,
the Lord would be found no more, and per
haps, — perhaps, — no more for ever. — Jer. xv. 5.
Happy in the extreme of our misery, if we
may yet hope, that they will be salutary to
those who have reached the shore on the bro
ken boards of the shipwreck? For, my brethren,
we consent that you should turn away your
eyes from whatever is glorious in our exile, to
look solely at that which is deplorable. What
do those groups of fugitives, and dismembered
families say to you? We are sent by the God
of vengeance. In banishing us from our coun
try, he said, go, — go, unhappy people; — go,
and tell the world the consequences of falling
into the hands of an angry God. Teach the
Christian world your bloody, but salutary les
sons; say to my children, in whatsoever part
of the earth you may be cast; " except ye re
pent, ye shall all likewise perish," Luke xiii. 3.
But you yet stand, ye walls of this temple; you
yet flourish, O happy provinces; though the
long-suffering of God has its limits. But I
check myself on the verge of this awful pre
diction.

II. Merely enumerating the remaining sub
jects, I would say, that experience, in the case
of hardened sinners, supplies us with a second
example. It is a received opinion, and not
without some foundation, that the period allot
ted for repentance extends to the whole of life,
and that God has no design in sparing us, but
to promote our conversion. This is the sense
of the Chaldee paraphrase; for so it renders the
text; " Seek ye the Lord while you have life,
all ye upon him while you are spared upon
the earth." We will not oppose the thought;
meanwhile we confidently affirm, that we daily
see among our hearers sinners whom grace
seems to have forsaken, and who appear to be
lost without resource.

How often do we see people among us so ha
bituated to offend against the dictates of con
science, that they now sin without remorse,
and without repentance! If the things we
preach to you were problematical; — if they
were things which so far excited doubt and un
certainty in the mind, that we could not be as
sured of their reality; — if they were merely al
lowed, or forbidden, we should not be surprised
at this insensibility. But do we not see persons
in cold blood committing the most atrocious
crimes, carrying on infamous intrigues, nour
ishing inveterate prejudices, handing them
down from father to son, and making them the
heritage of the family? Do we not see them
committing those things in cold blood, and less
shocked now at the enormity of their crimes,
than they formerly were at the mere thought
of them, and who" are as insensible of all we

268

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXL

say io affect thorn, as if we were repeating fa
bles, or reciting frivolous tales? Whence does
this proceed, my brethren? From the same
cause we have endeavoured to prove in our
preceding discourses, that habits, if not correct
ed, become confirmed: that the Holy Spirit
withdraws himself; that he ceases to knock at
the door of our hearts, and leaves us to our
selves when we resist his grace. These are
seared consciences; they are fascinated minds;
these are men given up to a spirit of delusion,
Rom. i. 21; "Their hearts are waxed gross;
they have eyes, and they see not, they have
hearts, and they do not understand," Isa. vi.
10. If the arguments advanced in the preceding
discourses, have been incapable of producing
conviction, do not, at least, dispute with us
what you see every day, and what passes be/ore
your eyes. Preachers, be not astonished after
this, if your arguments, if your proofs, if your
demonstrations, if your exhortations, if your
most tender and pathetic entreaties have so lit
tle effect. God himself fights against you.
You demonstrate, and God blinds their eyes:
you exhort, and God hardens the heart; and
that Spirit, — that Spirit, who by his victorious
power endeavours to illuminate the simple, and
make them that fear him to understand his se
cret; — that Spirit, by the power of vengeance,
hardens the others in their wilful insensibility.
This awful period often comes with greater
rapidity than we think. When we speak of

acquiring some knowledge of the human heart,
we fully perceive that there is nothing in it but
what is extorted; that it is the fear of punish
ment, not the sentiments of religion and equity;
that it is the approach of death, not an abhor
rence of sin; that it is the terrors of hell, not
the effusions of true zeal, which animate the
heart. The sailor, while enjoying a favourable
breeze, braves the Deity, uttering his blasphe
mies against Heaven, and apparently acknow
ledging no Providence but his profession and
industry. The clouds become black; the sluices
of heaven open; the lightnings flash in the air;
the thunder becomes tremendous; the winds
roar; the surge foams, the waves of the ocean
seem to ascend to heaven; and heaven in turn
seems to descend into the abyss. Conscience,
alarmed by these terrific objects, and more so
by the image of hell, and the expectation of
immediate and inevitable death, endeavours to
conceal herself from the pursuing vengeance of
God. Blasphemy is changed to blessing, pre
sumption to prayer, security to terror. This
wicked man all at once, becomes a saint of the
first class: and as though he would deceive the
Deity, after having first deceived himself, he
arrogates, as the right of this false reform, ad
mission into heaven, and claims the whole re
wards of true repentance.

What! conversions of this kind dazzle Chris
tians! What! sailors, whose tears and cries
owe their origin to the presence of immediate

sinners who are become incorrigible, we under- I danger, from which they would be saved! But
stand not only the aged, who have run a course I it is not in the agitation produced by peril, that

of fifty or sixty years in crimes, and in whom
sin is become natural. We speak also of those
less advanced in age; who have refused to de-

we may know whether we have sincere re
course to God. It is in tranquil and recollect
ed moments that the soul can best examine and

vote to God the early years of youth; who have I investigate its real condition. It is not when
assumed the flourishing titles of infidelity, and I the world has quitted us, that we should begin
atheism; who are in effect, become Atheists, I like true Christians to quit the world; it is when
and have imbibed prejudices, from which it is j the world smiles, and invites us to taste its
now impossible to move them. At first, this , charms.

was simply a want of zeal; then it became in- I But what finally decides on those hasty reso-
difference, then followed coldness and indo- I lutions are the consequences. Of all the saints
lence, afterward contempt of religion, and in j that have been made in haste, you find scarcely
the issue, the most obstinate and outrageous ^one, on deliverance from danger, who fulfils
profaneness. I select cases for you who are yet | the vows he has made. There is scarcely one
susceptible of good impressions. They are pro
videntially placed in open view to inspire you
with holy fear; God has exposed them in his
church as buoys and beacons, erected on the
coast to warn the mariners; they say, keep your
distance in passing here, fly this dreadful place,
let the remains of this shipwreck induce you to
seek deep waters and a safer course.

III. Let this produce a third example, and
would to God that we had less authority for
producing it, and were less instructed on the
subject! This is dying men; — an example which
you may adduce, to harden yourselves in vice;
but which if properly understood, is much more
calculated to excite alarm. We see in general,
that every dying man, however wicked he may
have been during life, seems to be converted on
the approach of death; and we readily persuade
ourselves that it is so in effect: and consequent
ly, that there is no great difficulty in becoming
regenerate in our last moments. But two things
have always prejudiced me against a late re
pentance; — the nature of those sorrows, and es
pecially the consequences.

First, The nature of those sorrows. After

who does not relapse into vice with the same
rapidity with which he seemed to abandon it;
a most conclusive argument, that such conver
sions are not sincere. Had it been true zeal,
and divine love which dictated all those profes
sions, and kindled that fire which seemed to
burn, you would, no doubt, have retained the
effects; but finding no fruit of your fervent re
solutions, we ought to be convinced that they
were extorted. Could your heart thus pass in
one moment from one extreme to the other?
Could it pass in one moment from repentance
to obduracy, and from obduracy to repentance?
Could it correct in one moment habits of vice,
and assume habits of piety, and renounce with
equal ease habits of piety, to resume habits of
vice? The case of those whom God has re
stored to life, ought to correct your judgment,
concerning those whom he takes away.

To all these proofs, my brethren, which I am
not permitted to state in all their lustre, I fear
lest another should soon be added; — I fear lest
a fourth example should convince the world
how dangerous it is to delay conversion. This
proof, this example, is no other than the major

San. LXXXL]

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

269

part of this congregation. On considering the
way of life which most of you follow, we find
but too much cause for this awful conjecture.
But should we see you, without alarm, run
headlong into the abyss from which you cannot
be delivered by never-ceasing lamentations and
tears? No, my brethren, we will redouble our
entreaties, we will make fresh exertions to press
on your minds these important truths.

APPLICATION.

The first thing we require of you is to enter
into your own heart, to do justice to yourselves,
to confess that most of you are in the awful
situation we have attacked; that you are nearly
all guilty of delaying conversion. I know that
the human heart has its evasions, and that con
science has its depths. But, after all, you are
not so far blind as to believe that, while carried
away as some of you are with avarice, others
with ambition; some with voluptuousness, others
with slander; and some with a haughtiness
which nothing can bend; living, as most of you
do, resident in a city where you find all the
temptations of vice in high life, and all the fa
cility in the haunts of infamy, you are not so
far blinded as to think that you are in a state
of regeneration, while persisting in this course.
And, as I supposed before, that no one of you
is so far infatuated as to say, I have made my i
choice, I am resolved to cast myself headlong I
into the pit of destruction, and to be a victim ;
of eternal vengeance; as no one of you has car
ried infatuation to this extreme, I am right in
concluding, that nearly all of you rely on a fu
ture conversion. Begin here, begin by doing
justice to yourselves on this point. This is the I
first thing we require you to do. |

The second is, to recollect the arguments we j
have urged in our preceding discourses, against \
the delay of conversion, and confess their force. I
In the first, we addressed you as well-informed '
and rational beings; we proved from the human |
constitution, that conversion becomes either '
difficult or impracticable in proportion as it is
deferred. In the second, we addressed you as
Christians, who acknowledge a revelation re
ceived from heaven; and we endeavoured to
prove these truths by that revelation; — by the
character of the economy of the Holy Spirit; —
by the nature and conditions of the new cove- I
nant; — capital points of faith, fundamental ar- .
tides of religion, which you cannot evade, if
you have the smallest shadow of Christianity.
To-day we have directed all our efforts to ena
ble you to comprehend the same things by clear,
certain, and indisputable experience. Over
looking, therefore, every thing which concerns
us in particular, and our weakness, which we
acknowledge and feel, do justice to our proofs;
acknowledge their force; and inquire, whether
you have yet any thing further to object.
Seek, examine, investigate. Is it not true,
that bad habits become confirmed with age?
Predominate in the heart' Take possession of
all the intellectual powers, and transform them
selves, so to speak, into our nature? Is it not
true, that habits of piety are not acquired in
stantaneously, in a moment, by a sudden wish,
and a simple emotion of the soul? Is it not [
true, that this detachment from sensible objects, i
this giving up the world, this self-denial, this |

zeal, this fervour; these indispensable duties of
religion, the essential characters of a Christian,
is it not true that they are not the acquisitions
of a moment, of an hour, of a day? Is it not
true, that, to attain this happy state, there
must be time, labour, and repeated endeavours;
consequently, that a transient thought on a
death-bed, and in the last periods of life, is
quite inadequate to so great a work? Is it not
true, that the Holy Spirit, in extending his as
sistance, requires that we should ask his aids,
yield to his entreaties, and pay deference to an
evangelical ministry? Is it not true, that he
abandons to themselves those who resist his
work; that it is thence concluded in the Scrip
ture that we need his grace for our sanctifica-
tion; and that we ought to work out our salva
tion with so much the more diligence? Is it not
true, that mercy has restrictions and bounds,
that it is promised to those only who conform
to the covenant of grace, that those conditions
are not a momentary repentance, a slight re
course to mercy, a superficial desire to partici
pate in the merits of Christ's death; they imply
such a total change, renovation of heart, and
transformation of the soul, and in such sort,
that when one is not in a state to conform to
the conditions, we are no longer within the
sphere of evangelical promises. Is it not true,
in short, that those truths are not founded
merely on arguments, on a chain of conse
quences, and remote principles? But they are
demonstrated by sound and incontestable ex
perience. Hence we ask you once more to ad
mit the force of our arguments, and to do jus
tice to the evidence we have adduced.

Thirdly, what we also require is, that you
should acknowledge the inefficacy of sermons
with regard to you, the little effect they com
monly have, and consequently the little influ
ence which ours (and especially those last
delivered) have produced on your conduct.
There is not a week, but some vice is at
tacked; — not a week, but some one ought to
be corrected; — not a week, but some evident
change ought to be produced in civil and reli
gious society. And what do we see? I ap
peal to your consciences; you regard us as
declaimers, called to entertain you for an hour,
to diversify your pleasure, or to pass away the
first day of the week; diverting your attention
from secular concerns. It seems that we as
cend our pulpits to afford you amusement, to
delineate characters, implicitly submitting to
your judgment, academic compositions; to say,
" Come, come and see whether we have a fer
tile imagination, a fine voice, a graceful ges
ture, an action agreeable to your taste." With
these detestable notions, most of you establish
your tribunal, judging of the object of our ser
mons: which you sometimes find too long, some
times too short, sometimes too cold, and some
times too pathetic. Scarcely one among you
turns them to their true design, purity of heart,
and amendment of life. This is the success of
the sermons you have heard. Should we think
our discourses more happy? We should be too
credulous did we expect it. It must be ac
knowledged, my brethren, that all we have
said on the delay of conversion, has been of
little avail with regard to most of you. Phi
losophy, religion, experience, — all leave you

270

ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION.

[SER. LXXXL

much the same as you were before. This is
the third thing you ought to confess.

When you have made these reflections, we
will ask, what are your thoughts? What
part will you take? What will you do? What
will become of all the persons who compose
this congregation? You know, on the one hand,
that you are among the neglecters of salvation;
you see, on the other, by evidences deduced
from reason, Scripture, and experience, that
those who thus delay, run the risk of never be
ing converted. You are obliged to allow, that
the most pathetic exhortations are addressed,
in general without effect; and, meanwhile,
time is urgent, life vanishes away; and the mo
ment in which you yourselves must furnish a
test of these sad truths, is just at hand. Do all
these things make any impression on your
minds? Do they give any stroke at the unhap
py security in which you live? Do they tro u-
ble the false repose in which you rest? Have
they any influence on your lives?

I know the part you are going to take; that,
unable to think of them without horror, you
are going to banish them from your mind, and
efface them from your memory. You are go
ing, on leaving this place, to fortify yourselves
against this holy alarm, which has now, per
haps, been excited; you are going to talk of
any subject but those important truths which
have been preached, and to repose in indo
lence; to cause fear and trembling to subside,
by banishing every idea which have excited
them; like a man in a fatal sleep, while his
house is on fire; we alarm him, we cry, " Rouse
from your stupor, your house is on fire." He
opens his eyes, he wishes to fly for safety; but
falling again into his former lethargy, he be
comes fuel to the flames.

My brethren, my very dear brethren, think,
O think that the situation of your 7/ninds does
not alter these grand truths. You met, forget
them, but you cannot change them. Whether
you may think of them or not, they still sub
sist in all their force. You may indeed shut
your eyes against the abyss which is under,,
your feet; but you cannot remove it, you can
not avoid it, so long as you disregard our warn
ings, and resist our entreaties.

If your salvation is dear to you, if you have
yet the least sensibility, the smallest spark of
love to God — if you have not resolved on your
own ruin, and sworn to your own destruction,
enter into your hearts from this moment. Let
each, from this moment, take salutary mea
sures to subdue his predominant propensity.
Withdraw not from this temple, without be
ing firmly resolved, on a change of life.

Consider that you were not sent into the
world, to aggrandize and enrich yourselves; to
form attachments which serve as unhappy ties
to hold you on the earth; much less to scanda
lize the church, to be high-spirited, proud, im
perious, unjust, voluptuous, avaricious. God
has placed you here in a state of probation,
that you might become prepared for a better
world. Consider, that, though the distractions
of life may frequently call a considerate man
to be engaged in the world, in defiance of his
wishes; yet there is nothing so unworthy as to
be, like most of you, always dissipated, always
devoted to pleasure. Consider, that though

this vacuity of life might be excused in a youth
following the impulse of nature, before he has
had time to reflect, yet games, diversions and
theatres, do but ill accord with gray hairs; and
that, at least, he should devote the remains of
life, to the service of God, and the advance
ment of his own salvation.

Examine yourselves on these heads; let each
make them the touchstone of his conduct; let
him derive from them motives of reformation;
let the time past suffice to have gratified his
concupiscence; let him tremble on considering
the wounds he has given his soul, and the dan
gers he has run, in delaying to the present
hour.

Is it forty, fifty, or sixty years since I came
into the world? What have I been doing?
What account can I give of a period so pre
cious? What virtues have I acquired? What
wicked propensities have I subdued? What
progress have I made in charity, in humility,
and in all the virtues for which God has given
me birth? Have not a thousand various pas
sions divided the empire of my heart? Have
they not all tended to enslave me? O misera
ble man! perhaps my day of grace is past: per
haps in future I may knock in vain at the door
of mercy: perhaps I may be numbered with
those of whom Christ says, " Many shall seek
to enter in and shall not be able:" perhaps the
insensibility I feel, and the resistance which
my unhappy heart still makes, are the effects
of divine vengeance: perhaps my time of visi
tation is past: perhaps God spares me only in
life to make me a fearful example of the mis
ery of those who delay conversion: perhaps it
is to me he addresses that sentence, " Let him
that is unjust be unjust still, and let him that
is unholy be unholy still." , But, perhaps I
hare yet a little time: perhaps God has spar
ed me in life to afford me occasion to repair
my past faults: perhaps he has brought me to
day into this church to pluck and save me
from my misery: perhaps these emotions of my
heart, these tears which run down mine eyes,
are the effects of grace: perhaps these soften
ings, this compunction, and these fears, are
the voice which says, from God, " Seek ye mv
face:" perhaps this is the year of good-will;
the accepted time; the day of salvation: per
haps, if I delay no longer, if I promote my
salvation without delay, I may succeed in
the work, and see my endeavours gloriously
crowned.

O love of my Saviour, bowels of mercy,
abyss of divine compassion! " O length, breadth,
height, depth, of the love of God, which pass-
eth knowledge!" resolve this weighty inquiry;
calm the agitation of my mind; assure my flut
tering soul. Yes, O my God, seeing thou hast
spared me in life, I trust it is for salvation.
Seeing thou seekest me still, I flatter myself
it is for my conversion. Hence I assume new
engagements, I ratify anew the covenant I
have so often violated; I pledge to thee anew
the vows I have so often broken.

If you act in this manner, your labour shall
not be in vain in the Lord. For what is it
that God requires of you? Why has he created
you out of nothing? Why has he given you his
Son? Why has he communicated to you his
Holy Spirit" Is it to destroy you? Is it to

SER. LXXXIL]

ON PERSEVERANCE.

271

damn you? Are you so little acquainted with
the Father of mercies, with the God of love?
Does he take pleasure in the death of the sin
ner? Would he not rather that he should re
pent and live?

These are the consolations which follow the
exhortations of the prophet, and the words of
my text. For after having said, " Seek ye the
Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him
while he is near;" he draws this conclusion, to
which I would lead you, which has been the
design of these three discourses, and by which
I would close the subject. "Let the wicked
forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his
thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord,
and he will have mercy upon him; and to our
God, for he will abundantly pardon." And,
lest the penitent sinner should be overburdened
with the weight of his sins, — lest, estimating
the extent of divine mercy by his own con
tracted views, he should despair of salvation,
I will add this declaration from God himself,
a declaration which admirably expresses the
grandeur of his compassion: " My thoughts
are not your thoughts, neither are your ways
my ways; for, as the heavens are higher than
the earth, so are my thoughts above your
thoughts.1" Now to God the Father, Son, and
Holy Spirit, be honour and glory for ever. —
Amen.

SERMON LXXXIL

ON PERSEVERANCE.

HEBREWS xii. 1.

Wherefore, seeing we are also compassed about with
so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside
every weight, and the sin which doth so easily
beset us; and let us run with patience the race
that is set before us.

MY brethren, the Holy Spirit proposes to us
in the words we have read, distinguished duties,
excellent models, and wise precautions. " Let
us run with patience the race that is set before
us." These are the distinguished duties. "We
are compassed about with so great a cloud of
These are the excellent models.

" Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin
which doth so easily beset us." These are the
wise precautions.

I frankly acknowledge, my brethren, that on
comparing the design of my text with the cha
racter of some among my hearers, I am in doubt
whether I ought not to suspend the thread of
my discourse; and whether the difficulty of suc
cess should not deter me from attempting the
execution. We come to preach perseverance
to men, of whom so great a number live in su-
pineness, and to whom it is much more proper
to say, Return unto the testimonies of the Lord,
than Continue to follow them. We come to pro
pose the most excellent models, the example of
the Abrahams, the Moseses, the Davids, of
whom so great a number hitherto propose to
themselves, if I may so express myself, only
negative models; I would say, who make it all
their glory in not being altogether so bad as the
worst of the human kind; they consider them

selves in some sort as saints, when they can al
lege some one who surpasses them in wicked
ness. In short, we are going to prescribe the
best precautions to people, who expose both
their flanks to the enemy of their salvation; and
who in the midst of beings, leagued for our
everlasting ruin, live in the same security as if
the profoundest peace prevailed, and as if they
were walking in the only way which leads to
eternal felicity.

Again, if it were only with regard to people
of this character, for whom we have so just a
cause to fear miscarrying, we ought to enrol
ourselves in the little number, that associating
ourselves among the disciples of wisdom, ac
cording to the example of Jesus Christ, we
might hope to say to God as he did, " Behold
me, and the children which God hath given
me," Heb. ii. 13; Tsa. viii. 18. But when I con
sider the limits in which the greatest saints
among us include their virtues, the scanty
bounds which comprise their duties, I am afraid
they will revolt against the doctrine of my text.
And you, who carry piety to the highest degree,
are you fully prepared to enter into the spirit
of the exhortation which St. Paul addresses you
to-day? You, who on the pressing entreaties
of Eternal Wisdom, whic'h says, "give me thy
heart," feel hard conflicts with yourselves not
to bestow on an only son sentiments which you
owe solely to the giver, you have not yet car
ried divine love to the most eminent degree: it
is not enough that you inspire your son with
the fear and love of God, you must acquire the
disposition of the father of the faithful, who
obeyed this command; " Take now thy son,
thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and
offer him for a burnt-offering," Gen. xxii. 2.
You who, rather than abjure the truth, have
sacrificed one part of your fortune, you have
not carried divine love to the highest degree;
you must acquire the disposition of those extra
ordinary men, some of whom were stoned for
religion, others were sawn asunder, others were
killed with the sword, others wandered about in
sheep-skins, and in goat-skins, others were af
flicted and tormented. These are the grand
models, on which St. Paul wished to form the
piety of the Hebrews, when he addressed them
in the words of my text: it is on the same mo
dels we would wish to-day to form your piety.
"Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed
about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us
lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth
so easily beset us: and let us run with patience
the race that is set before us."

These words may be considered in two dif
ferent points of view; the one respects the He
brews, to whom they were ad dressed, the other
respects the whole Christian community.

I. They have peculiar references to the He
brews, to whom they were addressed. These
Hebrews had embraced the Christian religion,
at a time of general exclamation against the
Christians. They were very sincere in the pro
fession of Christianity; but there is a difference
between sincerity, and the constancy to which
the disciples of Jesus Christ are called, particu
larly when the church seems abandoned to the
fury of its persecutors. The grand design of
the apostle in this epistle, was to inspire them
with this constancy, and to prevent the fear of

272

ON PERSEVERANCE.

[SER. LXXXII.

punishments from causing them to fall into
apostacy.

This design is apparent, from the illustrious
character he gives of the Lord Christ, to whom
they had devoted themselves by embracing the
Christian religion. He is not a mere man, not
an ordinary prophet, not an angel; but the Lord
of men, and of angels. " For God," says the
apostle at the commencement of this epistle,
" who spake in time past unto the fathers by
the prophets, hath in these last days spoken
unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed
heir of all things, by whom also he made the
worlds. Who being the brightness of his glory,
and the express image of his person, and up
holding all things by the word of his power,
when he had by himself purged our sins, sat
down on the right hand of the Majesty on high;
being made so much better than the angels, as
he hath by inheritance obtained a more excel
lent name than they. For unto which of the
angels, said he, at any time, Thou art rny Son,
this day have I begotten thee?" Heb. i. 1—5.

This design is farther apparent, as the apos
tle apprizes the Hebrews concerning the diffi
culty, and even the impossibility of obtaining
mercy after an abjuration accompanied with
certain aggravating circumstances, which time
does not pennit me here to enumerate. The
sense is asserted in these words: " It is impos
sible for those, who were once enlightened, and
have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made
partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted
of the good word of God, and the powers of the
world to come, if they fall away to renew them
again unto repentance," Heb. yi. 4 — 6. To
"Tall away," here signifies, not the repetition
of a criminal habit we had hoped to reform,
(and who could expect salvation if this were the
meaning of the apostle?) but professing again
the errors we had renounced on becoming Chris
tians, and abjuring Christianity itself.

This design appears likewise, from the care
the apostle takes to exalt the Christian econo
my above that of Moses: hence he infers, that
if the smallest offences, committed against th»
Levitical economy, were punished with rigour,
there cannot be punishments too severe for
those who shall have the baseness to abjure
Christianity. " If we sin wilfully after that we
have received the knowledge of the truth, there
remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a cer
tain fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery
indignation which shall devour the adversa
ries," Heb. x. 26, 27. The sin into which we
wilfully fall, does not mean those relapses, of
which we spake just now, as the ancient fathers
believed: whose severity was much more calcu
lated to precipitate apostates into the abyss
from which they wished to save them, than to
preserve them from it. But to sin wilfully, in
this place signifies apostacy; this is the sense of
the words which immediately follow the pas
sage. " He that despised Moses' law, died
without mercy, under two or three witnesses;
of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye,
shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden
under foot the Son of God, and counted the
blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanc
tified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite
unto the Spirit of grace?" Heb. x. 28, 29. The
whole is descriptive of apostacy. The Jews, I

having prevailed with any of their nation, who
had embraced Christianity to return to Judaism,
were not satisfied with their abusing it; they
required them to utter blasphemies against the
person of Jesus, and against his mysteries, as
appears from the ancient forms of abjuration
which the learned have preserved.

All these considerations, and many more, of
which the subject is susceptible, demonstrate,
that the grand design of St. Paul, in his Epistle
to the Hebrews, was to prevent apostacy, and
to prompt them to confess the truth amidst the
most cruel torments to which they might be
exposed by the profession. This is the design
of my text. "Let us run with patience the race
that is set before us; that is, Jet neither perse
cutions the most severe, nor promises the most
specious, be able to induce you to deny Chris
tianity, nor any consideration deter you from
professing it.

On this first design of the apostle, we shall
merely conjure those, with whom there may
remain some doubt as to the horrors of apos
tacy, and the necessity imposed on all Chris
tians either to leave the places which prohibit
the profession of the truth, or endure the se
verest tortures for religion; we shall conjure
them seriously to reflect on what we advance;
not to content themselves with general notions;
to compare the situation of those Hebrews with
that in which some of the reformed Christians
are placed; to compare the abjurations required
of the first, with those required of the latter; the
punishments inflicted on the one, with those
inflicted on the other; and the directions St.
Paul gave the faithful of his own time, with
those which- are given to us. If, after sober and
serious investigation, we still find casuists who
doubt the doctrine, by affirming, that those of
our brethren, who still remain in France, ought
to make their choice, between flight and mar
tyrdom, we will add no more; feeling ourselves
unable to persuade men, with whom arguments
so strong are incapable of conviction.

Perhaps some of you think, that we insist too
often on the same subjects. But we frankly
avow, that, so very far from thinking we preach
too often, it seems to us we by no means re
sume them sufficiently. We are also fully re
solved to insist upon them more powerfully than
we have ever done before. Yes! while we shall
see the incendiaries of the Christian world, men,
who under the name of the meek and lowly
Jesus cherish the most ambitious and barbarous
sentiments, holding the reins of government in
so large a space of Europe, making drunk, if I
may use an expression in the Revelation, and
an expression by no means hyperbolical, " ma
king drunk the kings of the earth with the wine
of their fornication:" while we shall see edicts
issued anew, which have so often made to blush
every one who has a vestige of probity in the
community from which they proceed; while we
shall see fresh faggots kindled, new gibbets
erected, additional galleys equipped against the
Protestants; while we see our unhappy brethren
invariably negligent to the present period in
which they promised to give glory to God, al
leging, as an excuse, the severity of the perse
cution, and the fury of the persecutors; that
when peace shall be restored to the churches,
they will return to devotion} while we see a

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273

million of men bearing the Christian name,
contenting themselves to live without temple,
without public worship, without sacraments,
without hope of having on their death-beds the
aids of ministers of the living God to comfort
them against that terrific period; while we shall
see fathers and mothers, so very far from send
ing into the land of liberty the children, whom
they have had the weakness to retain in the
climates of oppression, have even the laxity,
shall I say, or the insanity to recall those who
have had courage to fly; while we shall see ex
iles looking back with regret to the onions of
Egypt, envying the condition of those who
have sacrificed the dictates of conscience to
fortune: while we shall see those lamentable
objects, we will still enforce the doctrine of St.
Paul in the epistle whence we have selected
the text. We will still enforce the expressions
of the apostle, and in the sense already given.
" Take heed, lest there be in any of you an
evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the
living God. — It is impossible for those who
were once enlightened, and have tasted of the
heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the
Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good word
of God, and the powers of the world to come,
if they fall away, to renew them again to re
pentance, seeing they crucify to themselves
afresh the Son of God, and put him to an open
shame. Let us hold fast the profession of our
faith without wavering; for if we sin wilfully
after that we have received the knowledge of
the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice
for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of
judgment, and fiery indignation which shall
devour the adversaries. He that despised
Moses' law died without mercy under two or
three witnesses; of how much sorer punish
ment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy,
who hath trodden under foot the Son of God,
and hath counted the blood of the covenant,
wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing,
and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace."
And in our text, " Seeing we also." To what
do these words refer? To what the apostle
had said a little before respecting the faithful,
who, for the sake of religion, " had been stoned,
had been sawn asunder, had been killed with
the sword:" after enumerating these, he adds,
" Seeing we also are compassed about with so
great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with pa
tience the race that is set before us."

2, Enough having been said concerning the
first sense of the text which regards but few
Christians, we shall proceed to the second;
which concerns the whole body of Christians,
who are still in a world which endeavours to
detach them from the communion of Jesus
Christ. St. Paul exhorts them to " run with

patience the race that is set before them;" that
is, to persevere in fellowship with him. Per
severance is a Christian virtue. On this virtue
shall turn the whole of our discourse, which
shall be comprised under four classes of obser
vations.

I. We shall remove what is equivocal in the
term perseverance, or running the race.

II. We shall enforce the necessity of perse
verance.

III. We shall remove certain systematical
notions which excite confusion in this virtue.

VOL. II.— 35

IV. We shall point to the different classes
of persons who compose this congregation, the
various consequences they should draw from
this doctrine, and the sentiments with which it
should actuate their minds.

I. We shall remove what is equivocal in
the term perseverance, and in the expression,
" let us run with patience the race that is set
before us." We may take the term in a double
sense; or, to express myself more clearly, there
are two ways in which we may consider the
course Jesus Christ prescribed to his disciples.
We will call the first, losing the habit of Chris
tianity; and the second, doing actions incom
patible with its design. By the habit of Chris
tianity, we mean that disposition of a believer,
in consequence of which, notwithstanding the
weakness he may feel in virtue; — the defects
with which he may have cause to reproach
himself; — and the daily warfare between the
flesh and the Spirit, or even some victories
which the flesh may obtain over the mind; —
all things considered", he gives God the prefer
ence to the world and the flesh; and has a
consciousness in his own breast, that divine
love prevails in his heart over every other
'ove. — We may also turn aside from the course
jrescribed by Jesus Christ to his disciples, by
doing things incompatible with the design of
Christianity. It would discover a defective
knowledge of man to conclude, that he has lost
a habit the moment he does any action con
trary to it. One act of dissipation no more
constitutes a habit of dissipation, than a single
duty of piety constitutes the habit of piety;
and we have no more reason for inferring, that,
because a man has discovered one instance of
attachment to the world, he is really earthly-
minded, than we have to say, that, because a
man has discharged a single duty of piety, he
is really a pious man. In what sense then,
does the Holy Spirit exhort us to persevere?
Is he wishful to preserve us from doing any
thing incompatible with the design of Chris
tianity? Is he wishful to preserve us from
losing the habit?

Doubtless, my brethren, his design is to pre
serve us from doing any thing contrary to the
object of Christianity; because it is by a repeti
tion of this sort of actions that we lose what
is called the habit of Christianity. That dis
position of mind, however, which induces a
Christian to fortify himself against every temp
tation, is a mean rather to obtain the virtue
which our Scriptures called perseverance, than
perseverance itself. When we say, according
to inspired men, that, in order to be saved, we
must endure to the end, we do not mean, that
we should never in the course of life have
committed a single fault; but that, notwith

standing any fault we have committed, we
must be in the state just mentioned^ that, all
things being considered, we give God the pre
ference over sensible objects, and feel divine
love in our hearts predominant over every
other love. Where indeed should we be, if
we could not be saved without undeviating
perseverance, without running with patience
the race in the rigorous sense, I would say, so
as never to commit an action incompatible
with the design of Christianity? Where should
we be, were God to scrutinize our life with

274

ON PERSEVERANCE.

[SER. LXXXII.

rigour; if he waited only for the first offence
we commit, to plunge us into the abyss reserved
for the wicked? Where would be the Jobs,
the Moseses, the Davids, and all those distin
guished offenders, whose memory the Holy
Spirit has immortalized, to comfort us under
our falls? One of the greatest motives to com
ply with a law is the lenity of the legislator: I
will cite on this subject a passage of Justin
Martyr.* " How could Plato," says he, " cen
sure Homer for ascribing to the Gods placa
bility by the oblation of victims? Those who
have this hope, are the very persons who en
deavour to recover themselves by repentance
and reformation: whereas, when they consider
the Deity as an inexorable being, they abandon
the reins to corrupt propensities, having no
expectation of effect from repentance."

Distinguish then the virtue we enforce from
one of the principal means of its acquisition.
If you ask me what is perseverance? I answer,
it is that disposition of mind which enables us,
as I have more than once affirmed, and which
is still necessary to repeat; it is that disposi
tion of mind which enables us, all things con
sidered, to give God the preference over every
sensible object, that divine love may predomi
nate in our heart over every other love. If
you ask me, what are the surest means of ac
quiring that disposition? I say, it is to watch
against every temptation to which you may be
exposed. I say, in order to preserve the habit
of Christianity, you must use your utmost en
deavours never to do any thing incompatible
with its design.

II. Having removed the ambiguity of the term
perseverance, we shall prove in the second arti
cle that we cannot be saved without this virtue.

1. The passage we have explained is not
solitary. It is a passage which coincides with
many other texts of Scripture. The truth, re
sulting from the sense here given, is not a truth
substantiated solely by the text. It is an ex
planation which a great number of express
texts establish beyond the possibility of doubt.
Weigh the following: " Let him that standeth
take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12. " Thou
standest by faith. Be not high-minded, but
fear: for if God spared not the natural branches,
take heed lest he also spare not thee. Behold,
therefore, the goodness and the severity of God:
on them which fall severity; but towards thee
goodness, if thou continue in his goodness:
otherwise thou also shalt be cut off," Rom. xi.
20 — 22. " I have heard the voice of the words
of this people, which they have spoken unto
thee: they have well said all that they have
spoken. O that there were such a heart in
them, that they would fear me, that it might
be well with them, and their children for ever,"
Deut. v. 28, 29. " He that endureth unto the
end shall be saved," Matt. x. 22. " Hold that
fast which thou hast, that no man take thy
crown," Rev. iii. 11. " Thou son of man, say
unto the children of thy people, the righteous
ness of the righteous shall not deliver him in
the day of his transgression: as for the wicked
ness of the wicked, he shall not fall thereby in
the day that he turneth frorri his wickedness;
neither shall the righteous be able to live for

* Ad Graecos exhort, p. 28. Ed. Colon.

his righteousness in the day that he sinneth.
When I say to the righteous, that he shall
surely live: if he trust to his righteousness, and
commit iniquity, all his righteousness shall not
be remembered; but for his iniquity that he
hath committed he shall die," Ezek. iii. xviii.
xxxiii. 12, 13. Such is the morality of our
Scriptures. Such is the vocation of the faith
ful. It is not enough that we keep, for a few
years, the commandments of God; we must
continue to keep them. It is not enough that
we triumph for awhile over the old man, we
must triumph to the end; and if we have wan
dered by weakness for a season, we must stead
fastly return to piety and religion.

2. Consider on what principle the Scripture
characters founded their assurance of salvation.
Was it on some speculative notions? On some
confused systems? No: it has been on the
principle of persevering in the profession of
their religion, and in the practice of virtue. I
will adduce but one example, which seems to
me above all exception: it is he, who, of all the
sacred authors, has furnished us with the most
conclusive arguments on the doctrine of assu
rance of salvation, and the inamissibility of

S'ace; I would say, the example of St. Paul,
e never doubted but that he should always
persevere in piety, and in the profession of re
ligion. The love of God was so deeply rooted
in the heart of this apostle, as to remove all
scruple on that head. When, however, St.
Paul, by abstraction of mind, considered him
self as having lost the disposition which we
shall call the habit of Christianity; — when he
considered himself as falling under the temp
tations which exposed him to the flesh, to hell,
arid the world; — what did he expect consider
ing his state in this point of view? What did
he expect after the acquisition of so much know
ledge; after preaching so many excellent ser
mons; after writing so many excellent and
catholic epistles; after working so many mira
cles; after achieving so many labours; after en
countering so many dangers; after enduring so
many sufferings to exalt the glory of Christ;
after setting so high an example to the church?
What did he expect after all this? Paradise?
The crown of righteousness? No: he expected
hell and damnation. Did he expect that his
past virtues would obtain the remission of his
present defects? No: he expected that his past
virtues would aggravate his present faults. " I
count not myself to have apprehended," Phil,
iii. 13. "But I keep under my body, and
bring it into subjection, lest that by any means,
when I have preached unto others, I myself
should be a cast-away," 1 Cor. ix. 27. In what
situation did he place himself to lay hold of
the crown of righteousness, and to obtain the
prize? He placed himself at the close of his
course. It was at the termination of life, that
this athletic man exclaimed, " I have fought a
good fight, I have finished my course, I have
kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for
me a crown of righteousness," 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.

3. Consider what have been the sentiments
of the most distinguished Scripture characters,
when they recollect themselves in those awful
moments, in which, after they had so far of
fended against divine love as to suppose the
habit lost, or when their piety was so far

SER. LXXXIL]

ON PERSEVERANCE.

275

eclipsed as to suppose it was vanished. Did
they oppose their past virtues to their present
faults? Hear those holy men: " O Lord, heal
me; for my bones are vexed: my soul is also
sore vexed," Ps. vi. 2. " Mine iniquities are
gone over my head, as a heavy burden: they
are too heavy for me," Ps. xxxviii. " I ac
knowledge my transgression, and my sin is
ever before me," Ps. li. 3 — 11. " Make me to
hear joy and gladness, that the bones which
thou hast broken may rejoice. Cast me not
away from thy presence; restore me unto the
joy of thy salvation. Will the Lord cast off
for ever? And will he be favourable no more?
Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his
promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgot
ten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up
his tender mercies!" Ps. Ixx. 8—10. What
ideas do these words excite in your minds? Is
it the presumptuous confidence which some
men, unhappily called Christians, evince after
committing the foulest offences? Are these the
sentiments merely of an individual, who by a
simple emotion of generosity and gratitude, re
proaches himself for having insulted his bene
factor? Or are they sorrows arising in the soul
from the fears of being deprived of those fa
vours in future? Magnanimous sentiments,
doubtless are found in the characters of those
distinguished saints. A repentance, founded
solely on the fear of hell, can never obtain a
pardon: it may do well enough for a disciple
of Loyola; but not for a disciple of Jesus
Christ. It is respect for order; it is the love
of God; it is sorrow for having offended a be-
.'ng we sincerely love, which is the basis of true
repentance. It is fully apparent that the ex
pressions you have heard, are the language of
a soul persuaded of this truth, that we cannot
obtain salvation without persevering till death
in the habit of holiness, which it fears to have
lost. They are the language of a soul, which
reproaches itself, not only for a deviation from
order, but which fears, lest it should have for
feited its salvation.

4. Consider the absurdities, arising from the
opinion we attack. The commencement of a
life, sincerely consecrated to the service of God,
is a sufficient barrier against all the fears aris
ing from crimes with which it may in the issue
be defiled. The children of God can never
fall from grace. And none but the children
of God can be sincerely consecrated to him in
the early period of life. On this principle, I
will frame you a system of religion the most
relaxed, accommodating, and easy, even at
the bar of corruption the most obstinate and
inveterate. Consecrate sincerely to God a sin
gle hour of life. Distinguish by some virtue
the sincerity of that early period. Then write
with a pen of iron on a tablet of marble and
brass, that, In such a day, and in such an
hour, I had the marks of a true child of God.
After that, plunge headlong into vice; run un
bridled with the children of this world to the
same excess of riot: give yourself no concern
about your passions; if the horrors of this
state should excite any doubts of your salva
tion, comfort yourself against the anathemas
of legal preachers; comfort yourself against
remorse of conscience, by casting your eyes on
this tablet of brass and marble; — monuments of

the inamissibility of your faith, and sure pledges
of your salvation. But, my brethren, was this
indeed the system of those saints of whom we
have spoken? They were not more convinced
of this principle, that a sincerely good man
cannot fall from grace, than of this which fol
lows: that a man who cannot fall from grace,
cannot fall from piety. They have trembled
on doing an action contrary to piety; fearing
lest the habit was lost.

5. In a word, our last proof of the neces
sity of perseverance is founded on the necessity
of progressive religion. It is a proposition al
ready established on other occasions, that there
is no precise point of virtue, at which we are
allowed to stop. If a man should take for his
model one of the faithful, whose piety is least
of all suspected: if a man should propose to
himself so fine a model, and there restrict his
attainment, saying, / will go so far, and no
farther: such a one would have mistaken no
tions of religion. The Christian model is Je
sus Christ. Perfection is the sole object of a
Christian; and, the weaker he feels himself in
its acquisition, the more should he redouble
his exertions to approach it. Every period of
life has its task assigned. The duties of youth
will not dispense with those of riper age; and
the duties of riper age will not dispense with
those of retiring life. " Be ye perfect as your
Father who is in heaven is perfect," Matt. v.
48. This is the command of Jesus Christ.
" Be perfect," 2 Cor. xiii. 11. This is the pre
cept of St. Paul. What do you infer from this
principle? If we are condemned for not hav
ing advanced, what shall we be for having
backslidden? If we are condemned for not
having carried virtuous attainments to a more
eminent degree, what shall we be for having de
based them to a degree so far below the standard?

III. But a doctrine of our churches seems to
frustrate all our endeavours to prompt you to
perseverance, and to warn you that salvation
is reserved solely for those who do persevere.
It is this. We fully believe, that the most il
lustrious saints were guilty of offences, direct
ly opposed to Christianity; but we profess to
believe, that it was impossible they should lose
the habit. We conceive indeed the propriety
of exhorting them not to commit those faults
which it is impossible they should commit.
But why exhort them not to lose a habit which
they cannot lose? Where is the propriety of
alarming them with a destruction on the brink
of which grace shall make them perfect? This
is the difficulty we wish to solve; and this is
the design of our third head.

But I would indeed wish to illustrate the
subject without reviving the controversies it
has excited. I would wish conformably to the
views of a Christian (from which especially a
gospel minister should never deviate,) to asso
ciate as far as the subject will admit, peace
and truth. If the wish is not chimerical, we
cannot, I think, better succeed, than by avail
ing ourselves of a point unanimously allowed
by the divines divided on this subject, in order
to harmonize what seems calculated still to di
vide them.

It is a received maxim in every system, I
would say, in every system of those who are
divided on the doctrine of the inamissibility of

276

ON PERSEVERANCE.

[SER. LXXXII.

grace; that, to preserve the habit of holiness,
without which they unanimously agree, we
cannot be saved, we must use all the means
prescribed in the sacred Scripture to preserve
so valuable a disposition. Divines, whom dif
ference of opinion has irritated against one
another, reciprocally accuse their brethren of
weakening this principle; but there is not one
among them who does not sincerely embrace
it, and complain of the reproach, when charged
with having rejected it. Those who exclaim
against the doctrine of the inamissibility of
grace, are so far from rejecting it, that they
pretend to be the only persons who establish it
upon a sure foundation; and maintain that it
cannot exist in systems opposed to the first.
They say, that the doctrine of the inamissibili
ty of grace is so far from opposing this princi
ple, that it constitutes its foundation. And
who among the advocates for this doctrine,
ever affirmed that we can preserve the grace
of perseverance, if we frequent the haunts of
infamy; if we keep company with persons who
tempt us to adultery and voluptuousness, and
so with regard to other virtues? This then is
a principle such as I would seek. It is a prin
ciple inculcated by every system, that in order
to retain the habit of holiness, without which
it is impossible to be saved, we must use all
the means pointed out in the sacred Scriptures
for the preservation of such an individual tem
per of mind.

This being granted, it is requisite in every
system, to represent the calamities we incur
by losing the habit of holiness, because it is
the dread of incurring the calamities conse
quent on our fall, which the Scriptures point
out as the most usual and powerful preserva
tives from apostacy. Hence they exhort us to
" work out our salvation with fear and trem
bling." Hence they make one part of a good
man's happiness to consist in fearing always.
Hence they require us to rejoice with trembling.
Each of you may collect a variety of parallel

Our divines, to illustrate this subject, have
sometimes employed a comparison, which, in
my opinion, is well calculated to answer their
purpose. It is that of a wise man at the top
of a tower, who has all the necessary means
of preserving himself from falling into the
abyss open to his view. We may properly
say, it is impossible such a man should fall.
Why? Because, being a prudent man, and
having all the necessary means, it is impossi
ble his prudence should not prompt him to
avail himself of their support. But in what
consists one part of this means of safety? It
is the faculty suggested by his prudence, of
knowing, and never forgetting the risk he
runs, should he neglect the means of safety.
Thus fear, so circumstanced, is one part of his
safety, and his safety is inseparable from his
fear. The application of this comparison is
easy; every one may make it without difficulty.
It is sufficient, not indeed to remove all the
difficulties of which the loss of grace is suscep
tible; but to answer the objection I have made
of its being useless, on a supposition of the
impossibility of falling from grace, to warn a
real Christian of the calamities he may incur,
should he lose his habit of piety.

IV. Three classes of people have conse
quences to deduce from the doctrine we have
now advanced. We first address ourselves to
those who seem least of all interested; I would
say, those who have no cause to fear falling
from grace; not because they are established,
but because they never entertained the sincere
resolutions of conversion. If people of this
description would pay serious attention to their
state; if they would read the Scriptures with
recollection; if they would listen to our ser
mons with a real, not a vague and superficial
design of reducing them to practice, I think
the doctrine we have delivered would rouse
them from their indolence; I think it would
hinder them from going so intensely into the
world, on withdrawn^ from devotion, as not
to hear the voice of their conscience. What!
the people of whom we speak should say,
What! Christians of the first class; what! those
distinguished saints who have devoted the
whole of their life to duty; what! those who
have " wrought out their salvation with fear
and trembling;" can they promise themselves
nothing from past efforts? What! are all the
sacrifices they have made for Christianity use
less, unless they persevere in piety; and, for
having failed to run only a few steps of their
course, will they fail of obtaining the grize
promised to those only who finish the whole?
And I, miserable wretch, who am so far from
being the first of saints, that I am the chief of
sinners; — I, who am so far from having run
the race which Christ has set before his disci
ples, as to have put it far away; — I, who have
been so far from working out my salvation, as
to have laboured only by slander, by calumny,
by perjury, by blasphemy, by fornication, by
adultery, by drunkenness; — I, who have done
nothing but obstruct the work, yet I am cora-
I am tranquil! Whence proceeds this

peace? Does it not proceed solely from this
circumstance, that, my sins having constrained
the Deity to prepare the sentence of my eter
nal condemnation, he has (among the calami
ties prepared for me by his justice,) the fatal
condescension to make me become sensible of
my misery, lest I should anticipate my condem
nation, by the dreadful torments which the
certainty of being damned would excite in my
soul. Oh, dreadful calm! fatal peace! tran
quillity to which despair itself is perferable, if
there be any thing preferable in despair! Oh!
rather, thou sword of divine vengeance, bran
dish before my eyes all thy terrors! Array
in battle against me all the terrors of the
mighty God, as in the awful day of judgment;
and striking my soul with the greatness of my
misery, give me, at least, if there be time, to
emancipate myself! If there be yet time? And,
if there be not time, why do you yet breathe?
Why are there still open to you the gates of
this temple? Why is the gospel still preached,
if it is not that you may be recollected; if it
is not that you may renounce the principles of
your past folly j if it is not that you may yield
to calls of grace, which publish to you the
consoling declarations of the merciful God?
When I say unto the wicked, Thou shall
surely die; if he turn from his sin, and do that
which is lawful and right; if the wicked re
store the pledge, give again that he hath

SEE. LXXXII.]

ON PERSEVERANCE.

277

robbed, walk in the statutes of life without
committing iniquity, he shall surely live, he
shall not die. None of his sins that he hath
committed, shall be mentioned unto him,"
Ezek. xxxiii. 14—16.

A second sort of people, who ought to de
rive serious instruction from the words of my
text, is those visionaries; who, while engaged
in the habit of hating their neighbours, of for
nication, of revenge, or in one or the other of
those vices, of which the Scripture says, " they
that do such things shall not inherit the king
dom of God," fancy themselves to be in a state
of grace, and believe they shall ever abide in
that state, provided they never doubt of the
work. People of this character, — whether it
be that they have fallen into the hands of An-
tinomian guides, one of the greatest plagues
with which justice punishes the crimes of men,
and one of the most awful pests of the church;
or whether it be the effect of those passions,
which, in general, so fascinate the mind, as to
prevent their seeing the most evident truths
opposed to their system; but people of this
class presumptuously apply to themselves the
doctrine of the inamissibility of grace, at the
time when we display the arm of God readv
to pour the thunder of its vengeance upon their
heads. But know, once for all, it is not to
you that the inamissibility of grace belongs.
Whether a true saint may fall, or whether he
may not fall, it is the same thing with regard
to you; and your corruption will gain nothing
by the decision: for if the true saint may fall,
I have cause to conclude that you are already
fallen; since, notwithstanding the regeneration
you pretend to have received, you now have
no marks of real saints; and if a real saint
cannot fall, I have cause to conclude that you
were deluded in the notions you had formed
of yourselves with regard to conversion. I
have reason to believe that you never were
true saints, because I see with my own eyes,
that you no longer sustain the character. Here
is the abridgement of the controversy. Here is
a decision of the question between us. But if
it do not agree with your systems, preserve
those systems carefully; preserve them to the
great day, when the Lord shall render unto
every man according to his works; and endea
vour, — endeavour in the presence of the Judge
of all the earth, to defend your depravity by
your opinions.

There is yet a third class of people, who
ought to make serious reflections on the doc
trine of perseverance. It is those who carry
the consequences to an extreme; who, from a
notion that they must endure to the end of
their course to be saved, persuade themselves
that they cannot be assured of their salvation
till they come to that period. It is not to min
isters who maintain so detestable a notion, that
this article is addressed. It is not to captious,
but to tender minds, and those tender minds
who are divided between the exalted ideas
they entertain of duty, and the fears of devia
tion. Fear, holy souls; but sanctify your fear.
Entertain exalted views of your duty; but lot
those exalted views be a sure test that you will
never deviate; and, while you never lose sight
of the difficulties with which the race Christ
has set before you is accompanied, never lose

sight of those objects which he has set before
you, in order that you may be enabled to sur
mount them.

A Christian is supported in his course by
the very nature of the difficulties which occur.
These are many, and we shall have occasion
to enumerate them in a subsequent discourse.
But, with discerning Christians, all these things
may promote the end they seem to oppose, and
realize the words of St. Paul, that "all things
work together for good to them that love God,"
Rom. viii. 28. One of those difficulties, for
instance, to which a Christian is exposed in his
race, is adversity; but adversity is so far from
obstructing him in his course, as to become an
additional motive to pursue it with delight; and
to assist him in taking an unreluctant flight to
wards the skies. Another difficulty is pros
perity; but prosperity assists him to estimate
the goodness of God, and induces him to in
fer, that if his happiness here be so abundant,
what must it be in the mansions of felicity,
seeing he already enjoys so much in these
abodes of misery. Another of those difficulties
is health; which, by invigorating the body,
strengthens the propensity to sin; but health,
by invigorating the body, strengthens him also
for the service of God. So it is with every
obstruction.

A Christian is supported in his course, by
those unspeakable joys which he finds in the
advancement of his progress; by " the peace
which passeth all understanding;" by the se
renity of justification; by an anticipated resur
rection; by a foretaste of paradise and glory,
which descend into his soul, before he himself
is exalted to heaven.

A Christian is supported in his course (as we
have already intimated in this sermon,) by the
consideration even of those torments, to which
he would be exposed if he should come short.
The patriarch Noah trembled, no doubt, on
seeing the cataracts of heaven let loose, and
the fountains of the great deep broke open,
and the angry God execute his threatening,
" I will destroy man whom I have created,
from off the face of the earth; both man and
beast, for it repenteth me that I have made
them," Gen. vi. 7. But this fear apprised him
of his privilege, being exempt in the ark from
the universal desolation; which induced him to
abide in his refuge.

A Christian is supported in his course by
supernatural aid, which raise him above the
powers of nature; which enable him to say,
" when I am weak, then I am strong;" and to
exclaim in the midst of conflicts, " blessed be
God which always causest us to triumph in
Christ," 2 Cor. ii. 14. "I can do all things
through Christ which strengtheneth me," Phil,
iv. 13.

A Christian is supported in his course by the
confidence he has of succeeding in the work
in which he is engaged, and of holding out to
the end. And where is the man in social life,
who can have the like assurance with regard
to the things of this world? Where is the gen
eral, who can assure himself of success by the
dispositions he may make to obtain the vic
tory? Where is the statesman, who can assure
himself of warding off every blow which threat
ens the natioa? The Christian, — the Christian

278

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIIL

alone has this superior assurance. I fear no
thing but your heart; answer me with your
heart; answer me with your sincerity, and I
will answer you for all the rest.

A Christian is supported in his course, above
all, by the grandeur of the salvation with
which he is to be crowned. What shall I say,
my dear brethren, on the grandeur of this sal
vation? That I have not the secret of com
pressing into the last words of a discourse, all
the traits of an object, the immensity of which
shall absorb our thoughts and reflections to all
eternity?

With such vast support, shalt thou, timo
rous soul, still be agitated with those distressing
*ears which discourage wicked men from en
tering on the course prescribed by Jesus Christ
to his disciples? " Fear not, thou worm Ja
cob, for I am with thee. Thy Redeemer is the
Holy One of Israel. They that are for us, are
more than all they that are against us," 2
Kings, vi. 16. "When thou passest through
the waters, they shall not overflow thee: when
thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not
be burned," Isa. xliii. 2. To this adorable
Deity, who opens to us so fine a course, who
affords us such abundant means for its comple
tion, be honour, glory, empire, and magnifi
cence, now and ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXXIII.

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

PART I.

HEBREWS xii. 1.

Wherefore, seeing we are also compassed about
with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay
aside every iveight, and the sin which doth so
easily beset us; and let us run with patience the
race that is set before us.
THERE are few persons so very depraved, as
not to admire the line of life prescribed by re
ligion; but there are few sufficiently virtuous^
to follow it, or even to consider it in any other
light than as a grand scheme captivating to an
enlightened mind, but to which it is impossible
to conform. To inquire, as soon as we are ca
pable of reflection, what is the Being who gave
us birth, to yield to a world of arguments
which attest his existence and perfections; to
join the consort of creation which publishes
his glory; to devote one's self to him to whom
we are indebted for all our comforts; and on
whom all our hopes depend; to make continual
efforts to pierce those veils which conceal him
from our view, to seek a more concise and sure
way of knowing him than that of nature; to
receive revelation with avidity; to adore the
characters of divine perfections which it traces;
to take them for a rule of life; to sigh on de
viation from those models of perfection, and
repair, by revigorated efforts of virtue, what
ever faults one may have committed against
virtue, is the line of life prescribed by religion.
And who so far depraved, as not to admire it?
But who is so virtuous as to follow it, or even
to believe that it can be followed? We look
upon it, for the most part, as we do the notions

of an ancient philosopher respecting govern
ment. The principles, on which he established
his system of politics, have appeared admira
ble, and the consequences he has deduced, have
appeared like streams pure as their source.
God, in creating men, says this philosopher,
gave them all means of preservation from the
miseries which seem appendant to their condi
tion: and they have but themselves to blame if
they neglected to profit by them. His bounty
has supplied them with resources, to terminate
the evils into which they fell bv choice. Let
them return to the practice of truth and virtue,
from which they have deviated, and they shall
find that felicity to which nothing but virtue
and truth can conduct society. Let the states
elect a sovereign like the God who governed
in the age of innocence; let them obey the
laws of God. Let kings and subjects enter
into the same views of making each other mu
tually happy. The whole world has admired
this fine notion; but they have only admired
it: and regard it merely as a system. The
princes and the people, to whom this philoso
pher wrote, are as yet unborn; hence we com
monly say, the republic of Plato, when we wish
to express a beautiful chimera. I blush to
avow it, but truth extorts it from me, that this
is the notion most men entertain of religion.
They make its very beauty an argument for its
neglect, and their own weakness an apology
for the repugnance they feel in submitting to
its laws: this is precisely the temper we pro
pose to attack. We will prove, by evident
facts, and by experience, which is consequently
above all exception, that however elevated
above the condition of man the scheme of re
ligion may appear, it is a scheme which may
be followed, seeing it has been followed al
ready.

To this point we shall direct the subsequent
part of our discourse on the text we have read.
We have divided it into three parts; — distin
guished duties, — excellent models, — and wise
precautions. Of distinguished duties, " let us
run with patience the race that is set before
us," we have treated in our first discourse.
Of wise precautions, " let us lay aside every
weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset
us," we hope to treat in a succeeding sermon.
Of excellent models, " seeing we also are com
passed about with so great a cloud of witness
es," we shall speak to-day. Happy, if struck
with so many heroic actions, about to be set
before your eyes, you may be led to follow
them, and to augment this cloud of witnesses,
of whom the Holy Spirit himself has not dis
dained to make the eulogium. Happy, if we
may say of you, as we now say of them, by
faith they repelled the wisdom of this world;
by faith they triumphed over the charms of
concupiscence; by faith they endured the most
cruel torments; by faith they conquered the
celestial Jerusalem, which was the vast reward
of all their conflicts. Amen.

l< Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed
about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us
run with patience the race which is set before
us." What is this cloud, or multitude, of
which the •apostle speaks? The answer is not
equivocal, they are the faithful enumerated in
the preceding chapter. Of what were they

SER. LXXXIIL]

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

279

witnesses? Of that important truth, with
which he would impress the minds of the He
brews, and which alone was capable of sup
porting the expectation of martyrdom, that
God " is the re warder of all them that dili
gently seek him;" that how great soever the
sacrifices may be we make for him, we shall
be amply recompensed by his equity, or by his
love: the faithful have witnessed this, not only
by their professions, but by their conduct;
some by sacrifices which cost the most to flesh
and blood; some by abandoning their riches;
others by devoting their lives. Happily this
eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the He
brews, is clearly known even to the less in
structed of our hearers; this may supply our
weakness, and the brevity of these exercises
in making an analysis. We shall however run
over it, remarking whatever may most contri
bute to illustrate the subject.

The first thing which not a little surprises
us, is, that St. Paul has equally brought to
gether, as models, men who seem to have been
not only of very different, but of very oppo
site conduct. How could he class Samson,
the slave of a prostitute: how could he class
Ilahab, of whom it is doubtful at least, whe
ther she did not practice the most infamous of
all professions: how could he put those two
persons on a parallel with Joseph, who has
been held up to all ages, not only as a model,
but as the martyr for chastity? How could he
place Jepthah, the oppressor of Ephraim,
whom we deem worthy of censure for the most
distinguished action of all his life; I would say
the devotion of his only daughter, whether in
sacrifice or celibacy, a question not to be ex
amined here; how could he class this man in
a rank with Abraham, who was ready to immo
late his son at the divine command; with
Abraham the most humane of conquerors, who
made this magnanimous reply to the officers
of an alliance he had received, " I have lift
up my hand unto the Lord, the most high
God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I
will not take from thee a thread even to a
shoe-latchet, and I will not take any thing
that is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have
made Abraham rich?" Gen. xiv. 22, 23. How
could he put Gideon, who availed himself of
the spoils of Midian by the supernatural aids
of Heaven, to make an ephod, and to turn
away the Israelites from the worship of the
true God, on a scale with Moses, who " pre
ferred affliction with the people of God, to the
pleasures of sin which are but for a season?"
Heb. xi. 25. I have too much reason to be
convinced, that many of my hearers would
wish to follow models of this description. I
have too much reason to be convinced, that
many would delight in a faith like that of
Samson, like that of Jepthah, like that of
Gideon. Without adopting or rejecting the
solutions usually given of this difficulty, here
is what may be replied.

You should keep in view, the design of St.
Paul in placing this group of personages be
fore the Hebrews. He would •animate them
with that faith, which as we expressed our
selves relying on the apostle's principles; that
faith which persuades us, that how great so
ever the sacrifices may be we make for God,

we shall be rewarded by his equity, or by his
love. Faith thus taken in its vaguest and
most extended view, ought to be restricted to
those particular circumstances in which it was
exercised, and according to the particular kind
of promises which it embraced, or, not losing
sight of obedience, in regard to those particu
lar kinds of sacrifice which God requires us to
make. One man is called to march at the
head of armies to defend an oppressed nation.
God promises to reward his courage with vic
tory. The man believes, he fights, he con
quers. The object of his faith in this particu
lar circumstance, is the promise I have men
tioned; I am right then in defining faith as St.
Paul, when he says, "Faith is the substance
of things hoped for, the evidence of things not
seen," Heb. xi. 1. It is that disposition of
heart, in approaching God, which enables us
to believe, that he " is the rewarder of them
that diligently seek him." By faith the man
of whom I spoke obtained the victory.

But I will adduce the case of another, call
ed to suffer martyrdom for religion The par
ticular objects of his faith in the case I have
supposed, are the promises of salvation. I am
right in defining faith as it is defined by St.
Paul, when he says, " Faith is the substance
of things hoped for, the evidence of things
not seen." It is that disposition of mind which
enables him in approaching God, to believe
that " he is the rewarder of all them that dili
gently seek him." By faith the man of whom
I spoke obtained salvation.

You perceive, I flatter myself, in the first
case I have adduced, that if the general per
suasion this man had, that God " is the re-
warder of all them that diligently seek him,"
did not embrace for its object all the promises
of salvation, nor induce him to make all the
sacrifices his salvation required; he is worthy
however of imitation in this instance, his faith
having embraced the particular promise which
had been given him: and it is evident, if I do
not know any thing of this man's life, except
that his faith having been sufficiently strong
for a particular sacrifice, I may presume what
I cannot prove, it would have been adequate
for every other sacrifice required by his salva
tion.

The doctrine discussed being considered, not
only obviates the difficulty proposed, but satis
fies the scruple which may be made concern
ing some of the saints whose example is pro
posed as a pattern by St. Paul.

Do you ask, why St. Paul arranges in the
same class, and proposes as equal models, per
sonages so distinguished by virtue, and others
by vice? I answer, that whatever distance
there might have been between the different
personages, they are all worthy of imitation
in regard to what is excellent in those instan
ces to which the apostle refers.

But if you ask whether the faith which in
duced Samson, Jepthah, and Gideon, to make
some particular sacrifices for God, prompted
them to make every sacrifice which their sal
vation required? we answer, that whatever fa
vourable presumption charity ought to inspire,
no man is authorised to answer the question
in the affirmative; for seeing some are found
who have performed the first miracles of faith

280

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIIL

without performing the second, we ought no1
to be confident that those doubtful characters
performed the second because they ably per
formed the first.

But if you exclaim against this opinion, ]
will add, not only that Jesus Christ has af
firmed he will say to many in the great day,
who had miraculous faith, " I know you not;"
but we have proof that many of those, whose
example the apostle has adduced in the ele
venth chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews,
were detestable characters, notwithstanding
their endowment of miraculous faith; Here
is our proof: St. Paul has arranged in the class
of those whose faith he extols, all the Israel
ites who passed through the Red Sea. Now,
it is evident that a vast proportion of these
were detestable men; then, draw yourselves
the consequence. And here you have the rea-

son of St. Paul's having

happily
les of t

proposed to

achieved by the faith of those whom I call
doubtful characters. Those miracles were ad
mirably calculated to encourage the minds of
the Hebrews, and to imbolden their purposes
of making distinguished sacrifices for religion:
but you have the reason, also, of his not being
satisfied with merely setting before them those
examples. You have the reason of his not
being satisfied with setting before him the ex
ample of a faith, concerning which the Scrip
tures are silent, if it had only particular promi
ses for its object; he sets before them the ex
ample of those saints, whose faith had parti
cularly in view the promises of eternal felici
ty. But were there, indeed, among those
saints enumerated by the apostle, men, whose
faith had, for its object, the promises of eter
nal felicity? Did the obscurity of the dispen
sation, in which they lived, permit them to
pierce the veil which still concealed from their
view a happier life than what they enjoyed on
earth? Let us not doubt it, my brethren: to
avoid one extreme, let us not fall into the op
posite one. St. Paul has proved it, not only
by his own authority, but also by the nature
of the case, and by the testimony of the Jews
of his own age.

From the example of the patriarchs, he ad
duces, first, that of Abel. An ancient tradi
tion of the Jews informs us, that the subject
of dispute, between him and Cain, turned on
the doctrine of future rewards. Cain main
tained that none were to be expected in a fu
ture life; Abel supported the contrary propo
sition. The former of those brothers supplied
argument by violence; unable to convince Abel,
he assassinated him. It is from this tradition
that some of our learned think we ought to
understand those words of the apostle, " who
being dead yet speaketh." They translate,
" We have still extant a tradition, that he died
for his faith; namely, the doctrine of a future
state."

He cites the example of Enoch, who was so

" became heir of the righteousness which is by
faith." What is this " heritage of righteous
ness by faith." It is, according to the style of
the sacred authors, eternal life. Hence the
many parallel explications we find in other pla
ces; as in the first chapter of this epistle.
" Are not the angels all ministering spirits,
sent forth to minister to them who shall be
heirs of salvation?" That, also, in the second
chapter of the catholic Epistle of St. James,
" God hath chosen the poor of this world to
be heirs of the kingdom, which he hath pro
raised to them that love him."

He farther alleges the example of Abraham,
of Isaac, of Jacob, and of Joseph. The confi
dence which the patriarchs reposed in the pro
mise of an earthly Canaan, proves that they
expected a heavenly inheritance; because they
continued faithful followers of God, though
they never inherited the terrestrial country,
which was apparently promised to them, but
continued to be " strangers and sojourners."
I am," says Abraham to the Egyptians, "a
stranger among you." And Jacob to Pharaoh,
" The days of rny pilgrimage," — or the time of
my life, during which period I have been a
Granger and a sojourner: — " the days of my pil
grimage are not equal to those of my fathers."
St. Paul's remark on these expressions of the
patriarchs is worthy of regard. " They that
say such things declare plainly that they seek a
country. And truly, if they had been mindful
of that country from whence they come out,
-hey might have had opportunity to have re
turned; but now they seek a better country; that
is, an heavenly," Heb. xi. 14 — 16. That is to
say, those holy men could but consider two sorts
of countries as their own, either the land of
their fathers, or the land of Canaan, of which
God had promised to give them possession.
They had not this notion of the land of Canaan,
seeing they considered themselves as "stran
gers and sojourners;" — seeing that Abraham
there possessed only so much land as was suffi
cient for a sepulchre; — seeing Joseph's sole hap-
^piness, in this view, was to command his chil
dren to carry up his bones, when they went to
possess it. They could no longer consider Chal-
dea, in which their fathers were born, as their
country: in that case, they would have returned
on finding themselves strangers in the land of
Canaan. Hence it is evident from their con
duct, that they still sought their country; a
country better than their fathers', and a better
than their children expected to possess; " They
showed that they expected a better, that is, an
heavenly habitation."

St. Paul adduces to the Hebrews the example
of Moses: for if the faith of Moses merely re
spected terrestrial glory, why should he (as the
Jews say) have cast to the ground, and tram
pled on the crown that Therm utis had placed
on his head? Why should he on coming to
years, as says the apostle, have " refused to be
called the son of Pharaoh's daughter." He far-

powerfully persuaded of a life to come, as to I ther, according to the same epistle, " esteemed

obtain a translation, exempting him from the '
painful path which others must travel to glo
ry; I would say, from tasting the horrors of
death.

He adduces the example of Noah, who not
only escaped the calamities of the deluge, but

the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasures of Egypt. This expression may be
taken in a double sense. By "the reproach of
Christ," we may understand the cross he so
frequently inculcated on his disciples. By the
reproach of Christ, we may likewise understand

SKR. LXXXIIL]

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

281

the bondage which oppressed the Jews in the
time of Moses. The word Christ, signifies
anointed, and men favoured of God are fre-

Suently called his anointed, because of the grace
ley had received; of which the holy oil, poured
on some extraordinary personages by his com
mand, was a figure. So God has said by the
psalmist, " Touch not mine anointed, and do
my prophets no harm," Ps. cv. 15. So the
prophet Habakkuk, " Thou wentest forth for
the salvation of thy people, even for salvation
with thine anointed," Hab. iii. 13. Which
sense soever we may adopt, the afflictions of
Moses prove, according to St. Paul, " that he
had respect unto the recompense of the re
ward," Heb. xi. 26. As no motive but the hope
of glory can induce Christians to bear the re
proach of Christ their head; so no other consi
deration could have induced a preference in
Moses, of the sufferings of the Israelites to the
enjoyments of a crown.

In short, St. Paul adduces to the Hebrews a
great number of martyrs, who sacrificed their
lives for their religion. In this class is the ve
nerable Eleazar; who died under the strokes of
his executioners, 2 Maccab. vi. It is probably
in allusion to this case when the apostle says,
"they were tortured." The Greek word sig
nifies they were extended in torture; and it is
designed to express the situation of persons exe
cuted in this cruel way. In this class is Zecha-
riah, who was slain between the temple and the
altar, by the command of Joash. To him the
apostle properly alludes when he says, " they
were stoned." In this class is Isaiah, whom
Manasseh executed with a saw, if we may credit
an apocryphal book quoted by Origen. To him
the apostle probably alludes when he says,
' they were sawn asunder." In this class were
Micah, John the Baptist, and St. James, since
the time of the Maccabees. In all probability
the apostie had them in view when he says,
"they were slain with the sword." This is
sufficient to illustrate what St. Paul has said in
the chapter preceding our text, respecting the
faithful, whom he adduces as models. It is
evident, that those illustrious examples were ad
mirably calculated to make deep impressions on
the minds of the Hebrews, and to animate them
to sacrifice their lives for their religion, if called
to suffer. But I would improve the precious
moments of attention you may yet deign to
give, having destined them to investigate the
impression, which the examples of those illus
trious saints must naturally make on our minds,
and to press the exhortation. " "Wherefore,
seeing we also are compassed about with so
great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with pa
tience the race that is set before us."

I have too high an ov?inion of my hearers, not
to persuade myself, tha they cannot contem
plate those illustrious nu <!els, without corres
ponding impressions; but i think enough has
been said to force an objection which most of
you will make, should I devote the rest of the
hour to enforce those high exampk-9. You will
eay, they are fine examples; but too high for
our imitation. The personages, from whom
they are derived, were extraordinary men, with
whom we have no claims of competition. They
were saints, we are sinners. Hence, the more

conceive yourselves obligated to make them the
model of your life. I would wish to go to the
source of this evil: hence, instead of confining
myself to an eulogium on those sacred charac
ters, I would prove, that they were men like
you, in order that you shall be saints like them.
There is between them and you a similarity of
nature — a similarity of vocation — a similarity
of temptations — a similarity of motives — a si
milarity of assistance. — The sole difference be
tween you is, that they had a sincere determi
nation to prefer their salvation and daty to
every other consideration: whereas we prefer a
thousand and a thousand things to our salvation.
This is the awful difference I would now re
move, in order to disclose the perfect parallel
between you and those illustrious characters.

I. There is between those saints and you a
similarity of nature; I would say, they had the
same principles of natural depravity. There is,
I grant, much confusion respecting certain theo
ries which are termed in the schools, Original
Sin. It has too often happened, in opposing
this doctrine to certain blasphemous objections
against the divine justice, that they have
strengthened the objections they endeavoured
to obviate. On the other hand, it is extremely
astonishing that there should be any divines so
unacquainted with human nature, as to deny
our being all born with those principles of de
pravity. Two considerations will demonstrate
the fallacy of this notion.

1. Man, circumscribed in knowledge, and
exposed to strong contests, which cannot be
supported without a vast chain of abstract
truths, is very liable to shrink in the contest.
I say not that it is impossible to avoid it; but
that he is very liable to shrink. It may be
avoided; because, in the warmth of disputation,
by an effort of genius, he might possibly turn
bis views to those arguments which would en
sure his triumph. He is, however, very liable
;o shrink; because warm debates engross so
arge a proportion of the mental capacity, that
t is difficult for a man thus prepossessed to pay

proper attention to the motives which would
enable him to conquer.

2. We are not only all born with a general
propensity to vice: but we are all likewise born
with a propensity to some particular vice. Let
a man pay attention to children in the early
years of life, and he will be convinced of the
fact: he will see that one is born with a pro
pensity to anger, another to vanity, and so with
regard to the other vices. These propensities
sometimes proceed from the temperature of our
bodies. It is natural, that persons born with a
phlegmatic constitution, and whose spirits flow
with difficulty, should be inclined to insensi
bility, to indolence, and effeminacy. It is na
tural also for persons born with a gay and vola
tile temperature, to be inclined to pleasure, and
anger. But these dispositions are sometimes
found in the essence of the soul. For, why are
some men born jealous, and ambitious? Why
have they peculiar propensities which have no
connexion with the body, if there be not, in the
essence of the soul, principles which impel some
to one, and some to another vice?

This being granted, I affirm, that there is
between those distinguished saints, namely,

amiable these examples appear, the less you i those venerable personages enumerated by St.
VOL. II.— 36

282

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIII.

Paul in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to
the Hebrews,— that there is, between them and
us, " a'similarity of nature." They had prin
ciples of depravity in common with us. The
sole difference between them and us is, that they
counteracted, and endeavoured to eradicate
those principles; whereas we suffer them to pre
dominate and superadd the force of habit to the
infirmity of nature.

I. That those distinguished men were born
with an understanding circumscribed as ours,
requires no proof. Seeing they have resisted
the temptations into which our limited under
standing has permitted us to fall; it evidently
follows, that the difference between them and
us is, that when the objects of temptation were
presented, they endeavoured to turn, and fix
their thoughts on the motives which enabled
them to triumph; but we suffer those objects
entirely to engross the capacity of our souls.

3. Those distinguished men were born, as we
are, with certain propensities to some particular
vices. There were in the disposition of their
bodies, and in the essence of their souls, as in
ours, certain seeds, which prompted some to
one vice, and some to another. The history of
those saints is too concise to state this truth in
all its lustre; but it is so far known as to be evi
dent to a certain degree. Moses was naturally
of an uncouth and warm temper; witness his
remonstrances with God when commanded to
speak to Pharaoh: witness his indignation when
he broke both the tables of the law; and when
he struck the rock twice. David was born with
a lascivious disposition: witness his intercourse
with Bathsheba. He was born with a vindic
tive temper: witness the hasty resolution he
formed against Nabal, and accompanied with
an oath so unbecoming a saint. " So and more
also do God unto the enemies of David, if I
leave of all that pertaineth unto him by the
morning light, either man or beast," 1 Sam.
xxv. 22. What we have said of David, and of
Moses, we might confirm by other saints.
Hence, if the love of God was predominant, in
the soul of those illustrious saints, over concu-^
piscence, while concupiscence in us so fre
quently predominates over the love of God: —
if they "ran with patience the race set before
them;" whilst we are so frequently interrupted
in the course: — it was not because those saints
were not born with the same principles of de
pravity which prompt us to particular sins, but
because we abandon ourselves to those princi
ples, and make no efforts to oppose them!
whereas they struggled hard lest they should
commit the crimes, to which they were inclined
by nature.

II. There is between those illustrious saints
and us a similarity of vocation. Does this article
require proof? Can you be so little acquainted
with religion, as to suppose that they were
called to make a constant progress in holiness,
but that you are called only to a certain degree
of virtue? That they were called to give vic
torious effect to the love of God over depravity,
and that you are called to permit depravity to
predominate over the love of God? That they
were called to a habit, and a constant habit of
piety, but that God merely requires you to do
a few virtuous actions, to acquire a temporary
habit of holiness, and then allows you to lay it

aside? Is not the law equal? Are not you
called to be holy as they were holy? Is it not
said to you, as well as to them, " Be ye perfect,
as your Father which is in heaven is perfect,"
Matt. v. 48. The abridgement of the law, and
the prophets, — is it not of the same force with
regard to you, as to them, " Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all
thy soul, and with all thy mind?" Matt. xxii. 37.

I arn fully aware, that there is a difference
between the effects of the love which God re
quires of you, and which he required of them:
but that diversity of effects does not suppose
any change in the efficient cause. The efficient
cause must be the same, how diversified soever
the effects may be: and if you are not called to
make similar sacrifices, you are called to be
ready to do so, should they be required. You
are not called, like Abraham, to immolate in
sacrifice to God your only son; but you are
called to have the same radical attachment and
preference, which induced him to sacrifice his
son, if required by your maker. And if you
have not this profound attachment, or at least,
if you do not daily endeavour to obtain it, de
ceive not yourselves, my brethren, you can
have no hope ,of salvation. You are not call
ed, like Moses, to sacrifice a crown for religion,
but you are called to have the same preference
and esteem for God which he had, provided a
crown were offered. If you have not this pre
ference of affection; at least, if you do not en
deavour to obtain it, deceive not yourselves,
my brethren, you can have no hopes of salva
tion. The difference between those illustrious
saints and us, is not in the variety of vocation
in which Providence has called us, but in the
manner of our obedience. They understood
their vocation, and were obedient; but we, we
overlook it, or take as much pains to disguise
it, as they did, to know it; and when we are
constrained to know it, and our conscience is
constrained to discover its duty, we violate in
practice those very maxims we have been
obliged to acknowledge in theory.

III. Human depravity has not only innume
rable subtleties, but we even urge them. Some
times, in order to excuse our deviations from
those illustrious saints, we allege the superiority
of their temptations over those, to which Pro
vidence has exposed us; and sometimes, on the
contrary, the superiority of their temptations'
over those, to which Heaven exposes us, over
those to which it exposed them. Be it so; but
after you have proved that they did not resist
any temptation which we would not have
resisted had we been in their situation; I will
prove that we are not exposed to any such vio
lent temptations over which they have not ob
tained the same victories which are required of
us. What are the violent temptations with
which you are captivated, and whose violence
you are accustomed to allege, in order to ex
cuse your falls?

Are they temptations of poverty? — How dif
ficult is it, when we want means to supply the
pressing calls of nature not to be exercised
with anxiety! How difficult is it, when we ex
pect to perish with hunger, to believe ourselves
the favourites of that Providence which " feeds
the fowls of heaven, and clothes the lilies of
the fields," Matt. vi. 26. 28. And when we

SER. LXXXIIL] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

are stripped of every comfort, an ordinary con
sequence of poverty, to find in communion
with God a compensation for those base friends
who suffer us to starve! The saints magnified
as models by St. Paul, have vanquished this
temptation. See Job, that holy man, and once
the richest man of all the East, possessing
seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels,
five hundred yoke of oxen, and servants with
out number: — see him stripped of all his wealth,
and saying in that deplorable situation, " Shall
we receive good at the hand of the Lord and
shall we not receive evil?" Job ii. 10. "The
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away,
blessed be the name of the Lord," Job i. 21.
See David wandering from wilderness to wil
derness, and saying, " When my father and
mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me
up," Ps. xxvii. 10.

Are they temptations of prosperity? The
temptations of prosperity are incomparably
more dangerous than those of adversity; at
least, the objects of adversity remind us of our
indigence and inability; and removing the means
of gratification, the passions become either sub
dued, or restrained and mortified. But pros
perity ever presents us with a flattering por
trait of ourselves; it prompts us to aspire at
independence, and strengthens all our corrupt
propensities by the facility of gratification. —
The saints, proposed as models by the Holy
Spirit, have vanquished those temptations. —
See Abraham surrounded with riches; behold
him ever mindful of that divine injunction,
" Walk before me, and be thou perfect," Gen.
xvii. 1. See Job, — see him ever employing
his wealth for him from whom he received it!
See him preventing the abuse his children
might have made of his opulence, rising early
in the morning after their feasts, and offering
sacrifice on their account; " It may be," said
he, " my sons have sinned, and cursed God in
their hearts," Job i. 5. See David on the
throne, — see him making a sacred use of his
power. " Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful
in the land, that they may dwell with me; he
that walketh in a perfect way, he shall serve
me. I will early destroy all the wicked of the
land, that I may cut off all the wicked doers
from the city of the Lord," Ps. ci. 6 — 8. See
him laudably employed in resuming those plea
sures of piety retarded by the affairs of state.
What he could not do in the vicissitudes of the
day, he reserved for the shades of night. He
contemplated the marvels of his Maker, dis
played by the night. Thus he expressed his
sentiments, " When I consider the heavens, the
work of thy fingers, the moon and stars, which
thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art
mindful of him; and the son of man, that thou
visitest him?" Ps. viii. 3, 4.

Are they temptations arising from the length
of the course, which seems to have no end, and
which always requires fresh exercise of piety?
It is incomparably more easy to make a hasty
sacrifice for religion, than to do it daily by de
grees. Virtue is animated on great occasions,
and collects the whole of its resources and
strength; but how few have the resolution to
sustain a long career. The saints, whom St.
Paul adduces as models, have vanquished this
kind of temptation. See Moses, — behold him

283

for forty tedious years in the wilderness, having
to war with nature and the elements, with
hunger and with thirst, with his enemies, and
with his own people; and, what was harder
still, having sometimes to contend with God
himself, who was frequently on the point of
exterminating the Israelites, committed to the
care of this afflicted leader. But Moses tri
umphed over a vast course of difficulties; ever
returning to duty, when the force of tempta
tion, for the moment, had induced him to devi
ate; ever full of affection for that people, and
ever employing in their behalf, the influence he
had over the bowels of a compassionate God.

Are there temptations arising from persecu
tion? — Nature shrinks not only at the idea of
suffering, but also at the ingenious means which
executioners have invented to extort abnega
tions. The saints, whom St. Paul adduces as
models, have vanquished this class of tempta
tions. Look only at the conduct of those noble
martyrs, to whom he is desirous of calling the
attention of the Hebrews. Look at the tragic
but instructive history of that family, mention
ed in the seventh chapter of the second Book
of Maccabees. The barbarous Antioch, says
the historian, seized on a mother and her seven
sons, and resolved, by whips and scourges, to
force them to eat swine's flesh. The eldest of
the seven boldly asserted his readiness to die
for his religion. The king, enraged with an
ger, commanded the iron-pans, and brazen
chaldrons, to be heated, and him who first
spake to be flayed alive; his tongue cut out;
the extremities of his limbs to be cut off, in
presence of his mother and brethren; and his
body to be roasted while yet alive, in one of
the burning pans. O my God! what a sight
for the persons so tenderly united to this mar
tyr! But this scene, very far from shaking their
constancy, contributed to its support. They
animated one another to an heroic death; af
firming that God would sustain their minds, and
assuage their anguish. The second of those
brothers, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and
sixth, sustained the same sufferings, and with
the same support, in presence of their mother.
What idea do you form of this woman, you
timorous mothers, who hear me to-day? In
what language, think you, did she address her
sons? Do you think that nature triumphed
over grace; that, after having offered to God
six of her sons, she made efforts, at least to
save the seventh, that he might afford her con
solation for the loss sustained in the other six?
No, says the historian, she exhorted him to die
like a martyr: Antioch compelled her to pre
sent the seventh that she might prevent his
death. But she said, " O my son, have pity
upon me, that bare thee nine months in my
womb, and gave thee suck three years, and
nourished thee, and brought thee up unto this
age, and endured the troubles of education. I
beseech thee, my son, look upon the heaven
and the earth, and all that is therein, and know
the author of thy being. Fear not this tor
mentor; but, being worthy of thy brethren,
take thy death, that I may receive thee again
in mercy with thy brethren."

Perhaps the historian has embellished his
heroes; perhaps he has been more ambitious to
astonish than to instruct; and to flatter the por-

284

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIII

trait, than to paint the original. The history
of our own age confirms the past age; the his
tory of our own tyrants, substantiates all that
is said of the Jewish tyrants: and the constancy
of our modern Maccabees, is a sure test of
what is said concerning the constancy of the
ancient Maccabees. What has been the seed
of the reformed church? It is the blood of the
reformers, and of the first reformed. What
was the rise of this republic? It was the light
of fagots kindled to consume it. Inhabitants
of these provinces, what were your ancestors?
Confessors and martyrs. And you, my dear
fellow-countrymen, whence are you come?
"Out of great tribulation." What are you?
" Brands plucked from the burning." Fathers,
who have seen their children die for religion;
children who have seen their fathers die for re
ligion. O that God may forbear hearkening
to the voice of so much blood, which cries to
Heaven for vengeance on those who shed it!
May God, in placing the crown of righteous
ness on the heads of those who suffered, pardon
those who caused their death! May we be, at
least, permitted to recount the history of our
brethren, who have conquered in the fight; to
encourage those who have yet to combat, but
who so disgracefully draw back. Ah! genera
tion of confessors and martyrs, would you de
grade the nobility of your descent' Your fa
thers have confessed their religion amid the se
verest tortures: and would you deny in these
happy provinces, enlightened by the truth?
Have they sacrificed their lives for religion,
and will you refuse to sacrifice a portion of
your riches? Ah, my brethren, " Seeing we
also are compassed about with so great a cloud
of witnesses, let us run with patience the race
that is set before us."

IV. I have said that there is, between us
and those illustrious saints, proposed as models
by the Holy Spirit, o similarity of motives. It
implies a contradiction, to suppose that they had
more powerful motives to animate them in their
course, than those we have proposed to you.
Yes, it implies a contradiction, that the Abra
hams, quitting their country, the land of their
nativity, and wandering they knew not where,
in obedience to the divine call: — it implies a
contradiction, that the Moseses preferred " af
fliction with the people of God, to the pleasures
of sin, which are but for a season:" — it implies
a contradiction, that this multitude of martyrs,
some of whom were tormented, others were
stoned, others were sawn asunder, others were
killed by the sword: — it implies a contradiction,
that those illustrious saints have beheld, at the
close of their course, a more valuable prize than
that extended to you. This prize is a blissful
^mmortality. Here the whole advantage is on
your side. This prize is placed more distinctly
in your sight, than it was in the view of those
illustrious characters. This, I really think,
was St. Paul's view at the close of the chapter,
in which he enumerates the saints, whose vir
tues have formed the leading subject of this
discourse. " These all, having obtained a good
report through faith, received not the promise;
God having provided some better things for us,
that they, without us, should not be made per
fect." What is implied in their " not having
received the promise?" Does it mean that they

did not know the doctrine of a future state?
St. Paul affirms quite the contrary. What is
meant by their " not being made perfect with
out us?" Is it as some of the primitive fa
thers, and as some of our modern divines have
thought, that the Old Testament saints were
not received into heaven till the ascension of
Jesus Christ? This is contrary to other pas
sages of our Scriptures. But " they received
not the promise," that is to say, with the same
clearness as Christians. " They without us
were not made perfect;" the perfect knowledge
of immortality and life being the peculiar pre
rogative of the Christian church. Whatever
be the sense of those words of St. Paul, we
will show, that this doctrine of immortality and
life is no longer covered with a veil, as it was
previously to the introduction of the gospel;
but it is demonstrated by a multitude of argu
ments which sound reason, though less im
proved than that of the ancients, enables us to
adduce for conviction; and they are placed in
evidence by Jesus Christ. Let us introduce
this Jesus to you; let us cause you to hear this
Jesus animating you by doctrine and example
in the course; " Him that overcometh," says
he, " will I grant to sit down with me on
my throne, even as I also overcame, and am
set down with my Father on his throne,"
Rev. iii. 21.

V. The last article,— happily adapted to
silence those who avail themselves of the dis
tinguished virtues of those saints for not ac
cepting them as models; or, to conclude in a
manner more correspondent to our ministry,
an article well calculated to support us in the
race God has set before all his saints — is, that
between us and those who have finished it with
joy, there is asimilarity of assistance. By nature
they were like us, incapable of running the
race; and by the assistance of grace we become
capable of running like them. Let us not im
agine that we honour the deity by making a
certain sort of absurd complaints concerning
our weakness; let us not ascribe to him what
proceeds solely from our corruption: it is in
compatible with his perfections to expose a frail
creature to the force of temptation, and exhort
him to conquer it without affording the aid
requisite to obtain the victory. Be not dis
couraged, Christian champion, at the inequality
God has made in the proportion of aids afford
ed to them, and to thee; be not discouraged
on seeing thyself led by the plain paths of na
ture, while nature was inverted for them; while
they walked in the depth of the sea; while they
" threw down the walls of Jericho by the sound
of rams'-horns, shut the mouths of lions,
quenched the violence of the fire, escaped the
edge of the sword, waxing valiant in fight,
and turning to fight the armies of the aliens."
We might perform all those prodigies, and not
obtain salvation. Yes, we might put to flight
the armies of the aliens, display invincible
valour in the warfare, escape the edge of the
sword, quench the violence of the fire, stop the
mouths of lions, overturn walls, force a passage
through the sea, and yet be numbered with
those to whom Christ will say, " I know you
not." And dost thou fear, Christian combat
ant, dost thou fear to attain salvation without
those miraculous aids? The requisite assistance

SER. LXXXIIL]

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

285

for thy salvation is promised. " The fountain
is open to the whole house of David," Zech.
xiii. 1. " Seek, and ye shall find; ask, and
you shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened.
Jf you, being evil, know how to give good
things unto your children, how much more
shall your Father which is in heaven, give his
Holy Spirit to them that ask him? If any of
you Jack wisdom let him ask of God that giveth
to all men liberally, and upbraideth not."

O!4 if we knew the value of wisdom! If we
knew what miracles of virtue can be wrought
by a soul actuated by the Holy Spirit! If we
know how to avail ourselves of this promise!
Let us, my dear brethren, avail ourselves of it.
Let us ask of God those aids, not to flatter our
indolence and vice, but to strengthen us in all
our conflicts. Let us say, " Lord, teach my
hands to war, and my fingers to fight," Ps.
cxliv. Seeing so many enemies combine to
detach us from his favour, let us thus invite
him to our aid. " Let God arise, let his ene
mies be scattered, let them also that hate him,
flee before him." Let us pour into his bosom
all those anxieties, which enfeeble the mind.
Then he will reply, " My grace is sufficient for
thee, my strength shall be made perfect in thy
weakness." Then shall all the enemies of our
salvation fly, and be confounded before us.
Then shall all the difficulties, which discourage
us by the way, disappear. Then shall we ex
claim in the midst of conflicts, " Blessed be
God, who always causeth us to triumph in
Christ." Amen. To him be honour and glory
for ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXXIIL

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

PART II.

HEBREWS xii. 1.
Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about
with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay
aside every weight, and the sin which doth so
easily beset us, and let us run with patience the
race that is set before us.
WE proceed this day, my brethren, to show
you the way which leads to the end proposed
in our two preceding discourses. The words
we have now read for the third time, placed
three things before your view, — distinguished
duties, — excellent models, — and wise precau
tions. The distinguished duties are illustrated
in the perseverance we pressed in our first dis
course. The excellent models are the saints
of the highest order, and, in particular, the
" cloud of witnesses with which we are sur
rounded." Of these, St. Paul has made an
enumeration and eulogium in the chapter pre
ceding that from which our text is read; and
whose virtues we have traced in our last dis
course. But, by what means may we attain
an end so -noble? By what means may we
discharge duties so distinguished, and form our
selves on models so excellent? This shall be
the inquiry in our present discourse. It is by
" laying aside every weight, and the sin which
doth so easily beset us. — Wherefore, seeing we
also are compassed about with so great a cloud

of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and
the sin that doth so easily beset us, and let
us run with patience the race that is set be
fore us."

Enter, my brethren, on the consideration of
this subject with that sacred diffidence, with
which frail creatures should be actuated on
contemplating the difficulties with which our
course is strewed; but enter with all the mag
nanimity with which an idea of the powerful
and promised aids should inspire the mind of a
Christian. Be impressed with this thought,
and we conjure you to keep it constantly in
view during this discourse: that there is no way
of running the race like those illustrious cha
racters adduced as models, but by endeavouring
to equal them in holiness; and that there is no
way of equalling them in holiness, but by
adopting the precautions of which they availed
themselves to attain perfection. Happy those
of you, my brethren, infinitely more happy
than the tongue of mortals can express, happy
those whom this consideration shall save from
that wretched state of indolence into which the
greatest part of men are plunged, and whom
it, shall excite to that vigilance and energy of
life, which is the great design of Christianity,
and the grand characteristic of a Christian!
Amen.

We shall now illustrate the expressions in
our text by a few remarks.

The first is, that they are figurative. St.
Paul represents our Christian vocation by the
idea of those races, so ancient and celebrated
among the heathen: and pursuing the same
thought, he represents the precautions used by
athletics to obtain the prize, as those which we
must use in order to be crowned. The weights
of flowing robes, such as were once, and such
as are still worn by oriental nations, would
very much encumber those who ran in the
course. Just so, inordinate cares, I would say,
cares concerning temporal things, and criminal
purposes, exceedingly encumber those who
enter on the course of salvation. I not only
allude to criminal purposes (for who can be so
ignorant of religion as to deny it,) but also to
excessive cares. St. Paul, in my opinion,
had this double view. He requires us not only
to lay sin aside, but every weight; that is, all
those secular affairs unconnected with our pro
fession. In St. Paul's view, these affairs are
to the Christian, what the flowing robes would
have been to the athletics of whom we spake.
How instructive is this idea! How admirably
calculated, if seriously considered, to rectify our
notions of morality! I do not wish to make
the Christian to become an anchoret. I do not
wish to degrade those useful men, whom God
seems to have formed to be the soul of society; ^
and of whom we may say in the political world, *
as St. Paul has said in the ecclesiastical, " I am
debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbari
ans," Rom. i. 14. " Besides those things that
are without, that which cometh upon me daily,
the care of a41 the churches," 2 Cor. xi. 28.

On the other hand, we often deceive our
selves with regard to what is called in the
world — business! Take an example of a man
born with all the uprightness of mind compati
ble with the loss of primitive innocence. While
left to the reflection of his own mind in early

286

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIII.

life, he followed the dictates of reason, and the
sentiments of virtue. His mind, undisturbed
with the anxieties inseparable from the man
agement of a large fortune, applied almost
wholly to the study of truth, and the practice
of virtue. But some officious friends, a proud
and avaricious family, the roots of vanity, and
love of exterior grandeur, scarcely ever eradi
cated, have induced him to push his fortune,
and distinguish himself in the world. He as
pires to civil employment. The solicitations
to which he must descend, the intrigues he
must manage, the friends with whom he must
temporize to obtain it, have suspended his first
habits of life. He accomplishes the object of
his wishes. The office with which he is in
vested, requires application. Distraction be
comes an indispensable duty. The corruption
of his heart, but slightly extinguished, rekindles
by so much dissipation. After having been
some time without the study of truths, once
his favourite concern, he becomes habituated
not to think of them at all. He loses his re
collection of them. He becomes exhausted in
the professional duties he has acquired with so
much solicitude. He must have a temporary
recess from business. The study of truth, and
the practice of virtue, should now be resumed.
But he must have a little recreation, a little
company, a little wine. Meanwhile age ap
proaches, and death is far advanced. But,
when is he to enter on the work of salvation?
Happy he, my brethren, who seeks no rela
tions in life, than those to which he is called
by duty! Happy he, who in retirement, and
if you please, in the obscurity of mediocrity,
far from grandeur and from courts, makes sal
vation if not his sole, at least his principal con
cern. Excessive cares, as much as criminal
pursuits, are weights which retard exceedingly
the Christian in his course. " Let us lay aside
every weight and the sin that doth so easily
beset us, and let us run with patience the race
that is set before us." This is St. Paul's idea
in the words of my text: and it is the first re
mark requisite for its illustration.

The second devolves on the peculiar situa
tion in which the Hebrews were placed, to
whom the advice is given. These Hebrews,
like ourselves, were Christians. They were
called, as we are called, to run the race of vir
tue, without which no man can obtain the
prize promised by the gospel. In this view,
they required the same instructions which are
requisite with regard to ourselves.

But the Christians, to whom this epistle was
addressed, lived, as was observed in our first
discourse, in an age of persecution. They
were daily on the eve of martyrdom. It was
for this that the apostle prepares them through
out the whole of this epistle. To this he espe
cially disposes them in the words which imme
diately follow those I have discussed. " Con
sider diligently," says he, adducing the author
and finisher of our faith, who so nobly ran the
career of martyrdom; " Consider diligently him
that endured such contradiction of sinners
against himself, lest ye be weary and faint in
your minds. Ye have not yet resisted unto
blood, striving against sin," Heb. xii. 3, 4.
What does he mean by their not having yet
resisted unto blood? Here is still a reference

to the games of the heathen: not indeed to the
sports of the course, as in the words of my
text, but to the cest,* in which the wrestlers
sometimes received a mortal blow. And this
idea necessarily includes that of martyrdom.
But, O! how evasive is the flesh, when placed
in those critical circumstances! What excuses
will it not make rather than acquiesce in the
proposition! Must / die for religion? Must /
be stretched on the rack? Must I be hung in
chains on a gibbet? Must I mount a pjle of
fagots? St. Paul has therefore doubled the idea
in my text. He was desirous to strengthen the
Hebrews with a twofold class of arguments: viz.
those required against the temptations common
to all Christians; and those peculiar to the af
flictive circumstances in which they were placed
by Providence. It was proper to press this
double idea. This is our second remark for the
illustration of our text.

The third turns on the progress the Hebrews
had already made in the Christian religion.
The nature of this progress determines farther
the very character of the advice required, and
the precise meaning of those expressions,
" Laying aside every weight, and the sin that
doth so easily beset us." We never give to a
man who has already made a proficiency in an
art or science, the instructions we would give
to a pupil. We never warn a mariner, who
has traversed the seas for many years, not to
strike against a rock which lifts its summit to
the clouds, and is perceived by all who have
eyes. We never caution a soldier, blanched
in the service, not to be surprised by ma
noeuvres of an enemy, which might deceive
those who are entering on the first campaign.
There were men among the Hebrews to whom
the apostle wrote, who, according to his own
remark, had need to be taught again " the
principles of the doctrine of Christ:" that is,
the first elements of Christianity. We find
many among the catechumens, who, according
to an expression he uses, had need of milk, and
were unable to digest strong meat, Heb. v. 12.
But we ought not to conceive the same idea
of all the Hebrews. The progress many of
them had made in religion, superseded, with
regard to them, the instructions we might give
to those entering on the course. I cannot
think, that those Hebrews, who in former days
had been enlightened; — those Hebrews, who
had " endured a great fight of afflictions;" —
those Hebrews, who, according to the force of
the Greek term, used in the tenth chapter of
this epistle, " had been exposed on the theatre
of the world, by affliction and by becoming a
gazing-stock; — those Hebrews, " who had ta
ken joyfully the spoiling of their goods," Heb.
xi. 33, 34; — I cannot think that they had need
of precautions against the gross temptations,
by which Satan seduces those who have only
an external acquaintance with Christianity.
The principal design of the apostle, in the
words of my text, is, to fortify them against
those subtle snares, and plausible pretences,
which sometimes induced Christians to relapse,
who seemed the most established. These are

* The Cestus was a severe mode of fighting, in which
e pugilists were armed either with a cudgel, or with a
11 of lead sewed in leather, See Virgil's .flEueiads

the

ball' of" lead sewed

Book v.

SER. LXXXIII.j

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

287

the kind of snares, these are the kind of so
phisms, the apostle apparently had in view,
when he speaks of " weights, and the sin that
doth so easily beset us."

Thanks be to God, my dear brethren, that
though we are right, on the one hand, in say
ing that some among you, " have need to be
taught again the first principles of the doctrine
of Christ; and are become such as have need
of milk, and not of strong meat," Heb. v. 12;
thanks be to God, that you afford us, on the
other hand, the consolation granted to our
apostle, of seeing among you cultivated minds,
geniuses conversant with the sublime myste
ries of Christianity, and with the severest
maxims of morality. Hence I should deem it
an injustice to your discernment and know-
-edge, if, in the instructions I may give to-day,
whether for the period of persecution, or for
the ordinary conduct of life, I should enlarge
on those truths which properly belong to young
converts. What? in a church cherished by God
in so dear a manner: what! in a church which
enjoys a ministry like yours, is it necessary to
affirm, that people are unworthy of the Chris
tian name, when, during the period of perse
cution, they anticipate, if I may so speak,
every wish of the persecutors, when they carry
in their bosoms, formularies which abjure their
religion; when they attend all the services of
superstition; when they^enjoy, in consequence
of their apostacy, not only their own property,
but the property of those " who have gone
with Jesus Christ without the camp, bearing
his reproach?" What! in a church like this,
would it be requisite to preach, that men are
unworthy of the Christian name, who, in the
time of ecclesiastical repose, deliberately live
in habits of fornication and adultery; who, in
the face of heaven arid earth, entice their
neighbour's wife, who wallow in wickedness,
who are ever disposed either to give or to re
ceive " the wages of unrighteousness?" Oh! my
very dear brethren, these are not plausible pre
tences; these are not subtle snares; they are
the sensible sophisms, the broad snares which
deceive those only who are resolved to be de
ceived. There are, however, subtle snares,
which deceive the most established Christians.
To these the apostle has immediate reference
when lie exhorts us to " lay aside every weight,
and the sin that does so easily beset us." On
this shall turn chiefly the explication we shall
give of the terms. What are those peculiar
kinds of temptations? What are the precau
tions we must take to resist them? These are
the two leading subjects of this discourse; to
these subjects I will venture to solicit the con
tinuation of the attention with which you have
designed to favour me.

I. Let us begin with the temptations, to
which we are exposed in the time of ecclesi
astical tribulation.

1. The devil would sometimes inspire us
with sentiments of unbelief respecting the truth
of the promises God has given the church. It
seems a difficult task, to reconcile the magnifi
cence of those promises with the deluge of ca
lamities which have inundated it in periods of
persecution. What is this church, according
to the prophets? It is a society, which was to
be completely irradiated with the glory of God.

I It was a society to which kings were to be the
nursing-fathers, and queens the nursing-mo
thers. It is a society, whose prosperity should
have no end, which should realize this predic
tion: " Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and
look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens
shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth
shall wax old like a garment; but my salva
tion shall be for ever, and my righteousness
shall not be abolished," Isa. li. 6. It is a so
ciety, whose prosperity made the prophets ex
claim, " Break forth into joy; sing together
ye waste places of Jerusalem: for the Lord
hath comforted his people, he hath redeemed
Jerusalem. The Lord hath made bare his holy
arm in the eyes of all nations, and all the ends
of the earth shall see the salvation of our God,"
Isa. lii. 9, 10. To say all in one word, it is a
society built upon the rock, and of which Je
sus Christ has said, " the gates of hell shall
not prevail against it," Matt. xvi. 18. What
is the conformity between these promises and
the event! or if you please, what likeness is
there between the portrait and the original!
Does not hell prevail against the church, when
her enemies exile her pastors, scatter her flock,
suppress her worship, and burn her sanctua
ries? Do all nations see the salvation of God,
the arm of the Lord made bare, to effectuate
distinguished events in behalf of this societv;
when they are given up to the fury of their
tyrants; when Pilate and Herod are confede
rated to destroy them; when they obtain over
them daily new victories? Do the waste places
of Jerusalem sing, when the ways of Zion
mourn, "when her priests sigh," and when
" her virgins are afflicted?" Does her salvation
remain for ever, when the church has scarcely
breathed in one place, before she is agitated
in another; when she has scarcely survived
one calamity, before she is overtaken with ano
ther; when the beast causes all, both small and
great, rich and poor, bond and free, to receive
his mark in their hand, or in their forehead?
Rev. xiii. 16. Are kings nursing-fathers to the
church, and queens nursing-mothers, when
they snatch the children from her breasts; when
they populate the deserts with fugitives; and
cause the dead bodies of her witnesses to lie
in the streets of the great city, which is called
Sodom and Egypt? Rev. xi. 8.

It is against this first device of Satan, St.
Paul would fortify the Hebrews in the words
of my text. Hear his admonitions and instruc
tions; have you forgotten the exhortation
which speaketh unto you as unto children; my
son, despise not thou the chastening of the
Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of himr
For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye
endure chastening, God dealeth with you "as
with sons; for what son is he, whom the Fa
ther chasteneth not? But if ye be without
chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then
are ye bastards and not sons," Heb. xii. 5 — 8.

I have no need to arm you with any other
shield against the sentiments of unbelief, with
which some of you are assailed on viewing the
calamities of the church. Ecclesiastical per
secutions are paternal chastisements, which
God inflicts upon her members. I would ask
our brethren, who complain of the length of

288

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

LXXXIII.

ihe persecution, and are ever saying, Alas!
what; always in exile, always in the galleys? I
would ask them, as they seem astonished, and
are bold enough to complain of their dura
tion, whether they have profited by these af
flictions? God, in chastising the church, is de
sirous of correcting the abuse you have made
of prosperity. Have you profited by this chas
tisement' Have you learned to make a right
use of prosperity? God, in chastising the church,
is desirous to correct the indifference you have
entertained for public worship. Have you pro
fited by this chastisement' Have you learned
to sacrifice your dearest interests to attend his
worship? And if you have made those sacri
fices, have you learned to worship with affec
tions correspondent to the sacrifices you have
made for him? God, in chastising the church,
is desirous to correct the strong attachment
you have conceived for this world. Have you
profited by this chastisement' Called to choose
between riches and salvation, have you ever
preferred the salvation of your souls, to exte
rior happiness?

2. In the time of tribulation, the devil
strongly prompts us to presumption. Here
the commands of Jesus Christ are explicit,
"When they persecute you in one city, flee to
another," Matt. x. 23. The decision of wis
dom is extremely positive; " they who love
the danger, shall perish by it," Matt. xxiv. 2.
Experience is a convincing test. St. Peter,
who presumed to go into the court of Caiaphas,
under a pretence of following Jesus, denied
him there. Is not this what we have repre
sented a thousand and a thousand times, to
those of our unhappy brethren, whom this
part of our discourse particularly respects?
We have proved, that we must either leave
the places in which the truth is persecuted, or
calmly submit to martyrdom. We have made
it appear that no man can assure himself of
constancy to suffer martyrdom, unsupported
by the extraordinary aids of the Holy Spirit.
We have demonstrated that it is presumption
*-) promise themselves those aids, while they
aeglect the means offered by Providence to
avoid the danger. They do violence to rea
son. They resist demonstration. They pre
sume on their own strength. They rely
wholly on supernatural power. They promise
themselves a chimerical conquest. Hence those
frequent abnegations. Hence those awful falls.
Hence those scandalous apostacies. I have
therefore done wrong in placing the tempta
tions of presumption among those subtle snares;
those plausible pretences, which impose on the
most established Christians. I am mistaken;
they are the broadest snares, and grossest
sophisms of the enemy of our salvation; and
he is weak indeed, who suffers himself to be
surprised. What! have you proved your weak
ness a hundred and a hundred times, and do
you still talk of power? What! have you at
this day scarcely resolution to sacrifice a part
of your property for religion, and do you pre
sume that you can sacrifice your life? What!
have you not fortitude to follow Jesus Christ
into peaceful countries, and do you presume
to hope that you can follow him to the cross?

3. Those, whom Satan cannot destroy by
presumption, he endeavours, and it is a third

snare with which he assails the church in tri
bulation, he endeavours, I say, to destroy by
distrust. " I am weak," says a man who dis
courages himself by temptations of this na
ture; "I am weak: I shall not have constancy
to sustain the miseries inseparably attendant
on those who devote themselves to voluntary
exile, by going into places where the truth is
professed; nor fortitude to endure the tortures
inflicted on those who avow it in places where
it is persecuted. I am weak; I have not
courage to lead a languishing life in un
known nations, to beg my bread with my chil
dren, and to hear my poverty sometimes re
proached by those to whom the cause for which
I suffer ought to render it venerable. I am
weak: I shall never have constancy to endure
the stink of dungeons, the weight of the oar,
and all the terrific apparatus of martyrdom."

You say, I am weak! say rather I am wick
ed, and pronounce upon yourselves beforehand
the sentence which the gospel has pronounced
against persons of this description. You are
weak! But is it not to the weak that are made
(provided their intentions are really sincere)
the promises of those strong consolations,
which enable them to say, " When I am weak,
then I am strong," 2 Cor. vii. 10. You are
weak! But is it not said to the weak, " God
is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempt
ed above that ye are able, but will with the
temptation also make a way. to escape, that ye
may be able to bear it? 1 Cor. x. 13. You are
weak! But is it not the weak to whom God
has realized the truth of his magnificent pro
mises? I will not refer you to those marvellous
ages, when men, women, and children, sus
tained the most terrific tortures with a courage
more than human. I will not adduce here
the example of those saints, enumerated in the
chapter, preceding my text; of saints who were
stoned, who were killed with the sword, who
were tortured, who were fettered, and who
displayed more constancy in suffering, than
their persecutors and hangmen, in the inflic
tion of torments. But go to those myriads of
exiles, who have inundated England, Ger
many, and these provinces, all of whom are
protestant nations; those myriads of exiles,
" who have gone to Jesus Christ without the
camp, bearing his reproach;" destitute of every
earthly comfort, but delighted to have gotten
their souls for a prey; were not they by nature
weak as you? And, with the assistance of
grace, may not you become strong as they?
But those fathers, but those mothers, who have
torn themselves away from their children, and
the separation of whom from creatures so dear,
seemed as tearing away their own flesh, were
they not by nature weak as you? But those
Abrahams, who taking their children by the
hand, went in some sort, to sacrifice them to
hunger and thirst, to cold and rain; and who
replied to the piercing complaints of those in
nocent victims, " The Lord will provide, my
children; in the mountain of the Lord it shall
be seen," Gen. xxii. 14. But those fathers,
those mothers, were they not naturally weak
as you? And with the help of God, may not

Sju become as strong as they? You are weak!
ut those slaves who have now been thirty
years on board the galleys; those Rois, those

SER. LXXXIIL]

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

289

Brotissons, those Marolks, and such a multi
tude of our martyrs, who have sealed the
evangelical doctrine with their blood, who
have ascended the scaffold, not only with re
signation, but with joy, with transports, with
songs of triumph, exclaiming, amid their suf
ferings, " I can do all things through Christ
which strengtheneth me," Phil. i. 13. " Thanks
be unto God, which always causeth us to
triumph in Christ," 2 Cor. ii. 14. " Blessed be
the Lord, who teacheth my hands to war, and
my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. Were not
those venerable men naturally weak as you?
And with the help of God, may not you be
come strong as they? Are you weak! It is
still added, say rather, I am wicked, and blush
for your impiety.

4. There are yet more plausible insinuations,
and more subtle snares; and consequently, the
more likely to entangle those who are defec
tive in precautions of defence. The enemy of
our salvation sometimes borrows weapons from
conscience, in order to give it mortal wounds.
The advice we give to the persecuted, is that
of Jesus Christ; " If any man will come after
me, let him take up his cross, and follow me,"
Matt. xvi. 24. " Come out of Babylon, my
people, that ye be not partakers of her sins,
and that ye receive not her plagues," Rev.
xviii. 4. To this duty, they oppose other
duties; and family duties in particular. What
would become of my father, should I leave
him in his old age? What would become of
my children should I forsake them in their in
fancy? They allege the duties of benevolence.
What would become of so many poor people
who procure bread in my employment? So
many starving families, who subsist on my
alms? So many people in perplexity, who are
guided by my advice? What would become
of these, if, neglecting their happiness, I should
solely seek my own? They allege the duties
of zeal. What would become of religion in
this place, in which it was once so flourishing,
if all those who know the truth should obey
the command, " Come out of Babylon."

Let us, my brethren, unmask this snare of
the devil. He places these last duties before
your eyes, in order that you may neglect the
first, without which all others are detestable
in the sight of God our sovereign Judge; who
whenever he places us in a situation in which
we cannot practise a virtue without commit
ting a crime, prohibits that virtue. God as
sumes to himself the government of the world,
and he will not lay it on your shoulders; he
still asserts the same language he once ad
dressed to St. Paul, when that prince under
the pretence of obedience to a precept, had
violated an express prohibition. " Hath the
Lord as great delight in burnt-offerings and
sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord?
Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to
hearken than the fat of rams," 1 Sam. xv. 22.

5. But is it public worship; (and this is a
fifth snare, a fifth insinuation; and a fifth class
of those " sins which so easily beset us;") — is
it public worship which constitutes the essence
of religion? Does not true devotion wholly
consist in worshipping in Spirit, and in truth?
May we not retain religion secretly in our

. heart, though we apparently suspend the ex-
VOL. II.— 37

terior service? And though external worship
be required, must it always be presented in the
presence of a multitude? May not private
devotion be a substitute for public worship?
And may we not offer to God in the closet,
the devotion which the calamity of the time
does not allow us to offer in temples consecrat
ed to his glory, and perform in our families the
offices of piety which tyrants prevent our per
forming in numerous assemblies?

(1.) I answer; what are the private devo
tions performed in places in which the truth is
persecuted! Ridiculous devotions; many of
those who perform them being divided between
Christ and Belial, between true and idolatrous
adoration. In the morning, before the altar
of false gods; in the evening, before the altar
of the Supreme Jehovah. In the morning,
denying Jesus Christ in public; in the evening
confessing him in private. In the morning
making a parade of error; in the evening, pre
tending to acknowledge the truth. Devotions
in which they are in continual alarms; in which
they are obliged to conceal themselves from
their enemies, from many of their friends, and
to say in secret, who sees me? who hears me?
who suspects me? Devotions in which they
are afraid of false brethren, afraid of the walls,
or afraid of themselves!

(2.) The inward disposition, you say consti
tutes the essence of religion. I ask, what sort
of inward disposition is that of the Christians
whom we attack? Show us now, this religion
which consists wholly of inward dispositions;
this worship in spirit and in truth. What! this
gross ignorance a necessary consequence of
privation of the ministry, those absurd notions
of our mysteries, those vague ideas of morality;
is this the inward religion, is this " the wor
ship in spirit and in truth?" What! this ab
horrence they entertain of the communion of
the persecutor, who they know scarcely pos
sesses the first principles of the persecuted? Is
this the inward religion, is this the " worship
in spirit and in truth?" What! this kind of
deism, and deism certainly of the worst kind,
which we see maintained by the persons in
question! Is this the inward religion, is this
the " worship in spirit and in truth?" What!
this tranquillity with which they enjoy not
only the riches they have preserved at the ex
pense of their soul; but the riches of these
who have sacrificed the whole of their proper
ty for the sake of the gospel? Is this the in
ward religion, is this the " worship in spirit
and in truth?" What! this participation in the
pleasures of the age, at a period when they
ought to weep: those frantic joys, if I may so
speak, over the ruins of our temples, after re
nouncing the doctrines there professed? Is this
the inward religion, is this the "worship in
spirit and in truth?" What! those marriages
they contract, in which it is stipulated, in case
of issue, they shall be baptized by the minis
ters of error, and educated in their religion?
Is this the inward religion, is this the " wor
ship in spirit and in truth?"

6. I will add but one illusion more, and that
s the illusion of security. If we offend, say
the persons we attack; — if we offend in sub
mitting to the pressure of the times, we do it
through weakness, and weakness is an object

290

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

[SER. LXXXIII

of divine clemency. It is not possible, that a
merciful God, a God who " knows whereof we
are made," a God who has formed us with the
ttachment we have for our property, our rela
tives, and our lives; it is not possible that this
God should condemn us to eternal misery, be
cause we have not had the fortitude to sacrifice
the whole. A double shield, my brethren, shall
cover you against this temptation, if you have
prudence to use it; a double reflection shall de
fend you against this last illusion.

First, the positive declarations of our Scrip
tures. God is merciful, it is true; but he is an
arbitrator of the terms on which his mercy is
offered: or, as it is written, he extends mercy to
whom he pleases; and God who extends mercy
to whom he pleases, declares that he will show
no mercy to those who refuse to honour his
truth. He declares, that " he will deny those
before his Father, who deny him before men,"
Matt. x. 33. He declares, that " he who loveth
father or mother more than him, is not worthy
of him," Matt. x. 37. He declares, that " they
who receive the mark of the beast, or worship
his image, shall be cast alive into the lake of
fire, burning with brimstone," Rev. xix. 20.
He declares, that he will class in the great day,
" the fearful;" that is, those who have not had
courage to confess their religion, with the " un
believing," with " the abominable," with "the
murderers," with " the whoremongers," with
" the sorcerers," with " the idolaters," with
"the liars." He declares, that "the fearful
shall," in common with others, be cast into the
lake which burneth with fire and brimstone,
which is the second death," Rev. xxi. 8.

The second reflection, which should be a
shield for repelling this illusion of the devil,
arises from the nature of the crime itself, ac
counted a mere infirmity. Four characters con
tribute to the atrocity of a crime. 1. When it
is not committed in a moment of surprise, in
which we are taken unawares. 2. When we
persist in it not only for a few hours, or days,
but live in it for whole years. 3. When during
those years of criminality, we have all the op*
portunities we could reasonably ask of emanci
pation. 4. When this crime not only captivates
the solitary offender, but draws a great number
more into the same perdition. These four cha
racters all associate with the crime in question,
the crime reckoned a weakness, and obstinately
classed among the infirmities of nature. But I
have not resolution to enlarge upon this subject,
and to prove, that our unhappy brethren are in
such imminent danger of destruction. And the
expiration of my time is a subordinate induce
ment to proceed to other subjects.

II. Were it possible for the discourses intro
duced into this pulpit to be finished pieces, in
which we were allowed to exhaust the subjects;
were you capable of paying the same attention
to exercises, which turn on spiritual subjects,
you bestow on business or pleasure, I would pre
sent you with a new scheme of arguments; I
would reduce, to different classes, the tempta
tions which Satan employs to obstruct you in
the course. But we should never promise our
selves the completion of a subject in the scanty
limits to which we are prescribed.

I shall take a shorter course, harmonizing the
extent and importance of the remaining subject

with the brevity of my time. I shall proceed
to give a portrait of the life common to persons
who attain the utmost age God has assigned to
man. I shall conduct him from infancy to the
close of life, tracing to you, in each period it is
presumed he shall pass, the various temptations
which assail him; and by which it is impossible
he should fall, if he keep in view the apostle's
exhortation, " Let us lay aside every weight,
and the sin which doth so easily beset us." Let
every one who hears this sermon with a view
to profit, carefully apply to himself those traits
which have the nearest resemblance to his state.
Hence I would presume every one of you to be
the man who shall attain the age of eighty
years: these are the temptations he will find in
his course.

1. Scarcely will you be liberated from the
arms of the nurse, when you fall under the care
of weak and indulgent people; who will, through
a cruel complaisance, take as much pains to
cherish the corrupt propensities of nature, as
they ought to take for their subjugation. At
this early period they will sow in your heart
awful seeds, which will produce an increase of
thirty, sixty, or an hundred-fold. They will
make a jest of your faults, they will applaud
your vices, and so avail themselves of your ten
der age, to give a thousand and a thousand
wounds to your innocence, that all your appli
cation will scarcely heal, when you shall be
capable of application. If you do not avail
yourselves of the first sentiments of piety and
reason, to resist so far as the weakness of child
hood will permit, those dangerous snares, you
will find yourselves very far advanced in the
road of vice before your situation is perceived.

2. Is infancy succeeded by youth? Fresh
snares, new temptations, occur. On the com
mencement of reflection, you will discover ex
isting, in your constitution and temperature,
principles grossly opposed to the law of God.
Perhaps the evil may have its principal seat in
the soul, perhaps in the body. In the tempera
ture of the soul, you will find principles of en
vy, principles of vanity, or principles of avarice.
In the temperature of the body, you will find
principles of anger, principles of impurity, or
principles of indolence. If you are not aware
of this class of temptations, you will readily
suffer yourselves to be carried away by your
propensity, and you will obey it without re
morse; you will invest it with privilege to do
with innocence, what the rest of the world can
not do without a crime. You must expect to
find in your temperature principles which will
dispense with virtue, and to be captivated by
maxims which too much predominate in the
world, and which you will daily hear from the
mouths of your companions in dissipation.
These maxims are, that youth is the age of
pleasure; that it is unbecoming a young man to
be grave, serious, devout, and scrupulous; that
now we ought to excuse not only games, plea
sure, and the theatres, but even debauchery,
drunkenness, luxury, and profaneness; that
swearing gives a young man an air of chivalry
becoming his age, and debauchery an air of
gallantry which does him credit iii the world.
Caution youAelves against this class of tempta
tions: reject tjie sin which so easily destroys you,
if you should relax in one single instance. Ah!*

SER. LXXXIII.

ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS.

291

think, my son, that you may never survive
those years you devote to the world, think that
the small-pox, a fever, a single quarrel, or one
act of debauchery, may snatch away your life.
Think, though you should run your full course,
you will never have such flexible organs, so re
tentive a memory, so ready a conception, as
you have to-day; and consequently, you will
never have such a facility for forming habits of
holiness. Think how you will one day lament
to have lost so precious an opportunity. Con
secrate your early life to duty, dispose your
heart, at this period, to ensure salvation. "Re
member now thy Creator in the days of thy
youth, while the evil days come not, nor the
years draw nigh, in which thou shalt say, I have
no pleasure in them," Eccles. xii. 1.

3. After having considered the period of
youth, we proceed to maturer age. A new
stage, fresh snares, more temptations. What
profession can you choose, which the spirit of
the world has not infected with its venom; and
which has not, so to speak, its peculiar morality?

The peculiar morality of a soldier, whose duty
is to defend society, to maintain religion, to re
press licentiousness, to oppose rapine by force:
and to deduce, from so many dangers, which
open the way of death, motives to render the
account which Heaven will require: but it is a
profession in which a man thinks himself au
thorized to insult society, to despise religion, to
foment licentiousness, to lend his arm, to sacri
fice his life, to sell his person for the most am
bitious designs, the most iniquitous conquests,
and sanguinary enterprises of sovereigns.

The peculiar morality of the statesman and
magistrate, whose profession is to preserve the
oppressed, to weigh with calmness a long detail
of causes and consequences, to avail himself of
the dignity to which he is elevated to afford ex
amples of virtue; but it is a profession in which
he thinks himself entitled to become inaccessible
to the injured, to weary them, out with morti
fying reserves, with insupportable delays, and
to dispense with labour and application, aban
doning himself to dissipation and vice.

The peculiar morality of the lawyer, whose
duty is to restrict his ministry to truth and jus
tice, never to plead for a cause which has not
the appearance of equity, and to be the advo
cate of those who are inadequate to reward his
services: but it is a profession in which a man
thinks himself authorized to maintain both
falsehood and truth, to support iniquity and
falsehood, and to direct his efforts to the cele
brity he may acquire, or the remuneration he
may receive.

The peculiar morality of the merchant, whose
duty is to detest short weights and false mea
sures, to pay the revenue, and to be satisfied
with a moderate profit: but a profession in which
he thinks himself authorized to indulge those
very vices he ought in particular to avoid.

The peculiar morality of the minister. What
is the vocation of a minister? Is it not to devote
himself entirely to virtue? Is it not to set a
pattern to all the church? Is it not to visit the
hospitals, and houses of affliction, and to alle
viate, as far as he can, the pressure of their ca
lamities? Is it not to direct his studies, not to
pubjects by which he may acquire celebrity for
learning and eloquence5 but to those which may

render him most useful? Is it not to determine
on the choice of a text, not by the caprice of
the people, which on this point is often weak,
and mostly partial, but by the immediate wants
of the flock? Is it not to pay the same attention
to a dying man, born of an obscure family,
stretched on a couch of grass, and unknown to
the rest of the world, as to him who possesses a
distinguished name, who abounds in wealth,
who provides the most splendid coffin and mag
nificent funeral? Is it not to " cry aloud, to lift
up his voice like a trumpet, to show the peopfo
their transgressions, and the house of Jacob
their sins; to know no man after the flesh;" and
when he ascends this pulpit, to reprove vice
with firmness, however exalted may be the situ
ation of the offender? But what is the morality
of a pastor? " Enter not into judgment with
thy servants, O Lord; for we cannot answer
thee one of a thousand." Caution yourselves
against this class of temptations. The world is
neither your legislator, nor your judge; Jesus
Christ, and not the world, is the sovereign ar
bitrator. It is the morality of Jesus Christ, and
not the maxims of men, which you should fol
low.

4. Having reviewed human life in infancy,
youth, and manhood, I proceed to consider it in
old age; in that old age, which seems so distant,
but which is, in fact, within a few years; in that
old age which seems, in some sort, at the dis
tance of eternity, but which advances with as
tonishing rapidity. A new state, fresh snares,
more' temptations occur: infirmities, troubles,
anid cares, arrive with age. The less there re
mains on earth to defend, the more men are
resolved not to let it go. The love of life hav
ing predominated for fifty or sixty years, some
times unites and attaches itself, so to speak, yet
more closely to the short period, which they
think is still promised. It is so rooted and in
trenched in the heart, as to be immoveable by
all our sermons on eternity. They look on all
who witness the calamities they suffer, as
though they were the cause: it seems as though
they were reproached for having lived so long,
and they make them atone for this imaginary
fault, as though they were really guilty. The
thoughts of death they put away with the
greater care, as it approaches nearer, it being
impossible to avoid the idea, without these ef
forts to remove it. They call to their aid
amusements, which would scarcely be excusa
ble in the age of infancy: thus they lose the
precious remains of life, — granted by the long-
suffering of God, — as they have lost the long
course of years, of which nothing now remains
but the recollection.

Be on your guard, aged men, against this
class of temptations, and against these illusions,
which will easily beset you, unless the whole
of your strength be collected for precaution and
defence. Let prayer be joined to vigilance: let
those hands, trembling and enfeebled with the
weight of years, be raised to heaven: let that
voice, scarcely capable of articulating accents,
be addressed to God: entreat him, who succour
ed you in the weakness of infancy, in the vigour
of youth, in the bustle of riper age, still to sus
tain you, when the hand of time is heavy upon
your head.

Hitherto, my dear brethren, I have address-

292

SAINT PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE

[SER. LXXXIII.

ed you, merely concerning the dangers peculiar
to each age. What would you not say now,
if we should enter into a detail of those which
occur in every situation of life? We find, in
every age, temptations of adversity, tempta
tions of prosperity, temptations of health, temp
tations of sickness, temptations of company,
and temptations of solitude: and who is able
fully to enumerate all the sins which so easily
beset us in the various ages of life? How should
one be rich without pride, and poor without
complaint? How may one fill the middle rank
of fortune, without the disgust naturally conse
quent on a station, which has nothing emulous
and animating; which can be endured by those
only, who discover the evils from which they
are sheltered, and the dangers from which they
are freed? How can one enjoy health without
indulging in the dissipations of life, without
immersion into its cares, or indulging in its
pleasures? How can one be sick, without ad
mitting complaint against that gracious Provi
dence, which distributes both good and evil?
How can one be in solitude, without being cap
tivated with reveries and corrupt propensities?
How can one be in company, without receiving
the poison which is there respired, without re
ceiving a conformity to every surrounding ob
ject'1 How see one's self obscure in the world,
and unknown to our fellow-creatures, without
indulging that anxiety, which is less exercised
in the world for the love of virtue, than to
avoid the odium consequent on an open viola
tion of its laws? How can one enjoy reputa
tion without ostentation, and blending some
grains of incense with what we receive of
others? Every where snares, every where dan
gers, beset us!

From the truths we have delivered, there
necessarily arises an objection, by which you
are struck, and many of you, perhaps, already
discouraged. What! are we always to be think
ing about religion, being in constant danger of
losing it, should we suffer it to escape our
minds? What! must we always watch, always
pray, always fight? Yes, my brethren, alwa-y^s,
at all times. On seeing the temptations of
youth, you should guard against those of riper
age. On seeing the temptations of solitude,
you should guard against those of company.
On seeing the temptations of adversity, you
should guard against those of prosperity. On
seeing the temptations of health, you should
guard against those of sickness. And on see
ing the temptations of sickness, you should
guard against those of death. Yes; always
watching, always fighting, always praying.

I do not say, if you should happen to relax
a moment from the work; I do not say, if you
should happen to fall by some of the tempta
tions to which you are exposed from the world,
that you are lost without resource, that you
should instantly go from sin to punishment,
from the abuse of time to an unhappy eternity.
Perhaps God will grant you a day, or a year,
for repentance; but perhaps he will not. Per
haps you may repent; but perhaps you may
not. Perhaps you may be saved; but perhaps
not. Perhaps hell — perhaps heaven. What
repose can you enjoy in so awful an alterna
tive? What delight can you enjoy in certain
vices, the perpetration of which requires time?

What repose can you enjoy in a criminal in
trigue, saying to yourself, perhaps God will
pardon me after having brought this intrigue
to an issue: but perhaps, also, during the
course of the crime, he will pronounce the sen
tence it deserves. What repose can you enjoy
in the night preceding a day destined to a com
plication of crimes, saying to yourself, perhaps
I shall see the day devoted to so dreadful a
purpose: but perhaps this very night "my soul
shall be required:" what delight can you take
in a tour of pleasure, when it actually engrosses
the time you have devoted to search your con
science, to examine your state, to prepare for
death, to make restitution for so many frauds,
so many extortions, so many dissipations? What
satisfaction can you take, saying to yourself,
perhaps I shall see the day devoted to so great
a work, but perhaps it will never come?

Ah! my brethren, have you any proper idea
of the shortness of life: have you any proper
idea of the eternity which follows, when you
start the objection, What! always pray, always
fight, always watch? This life, the whole of
which we exhort you to devote to your salva
tion; this life, of which you say; always — al
ways; this is the life, on the shortness of which
you make so many exaggerated declamations:
I mistake, the shortness of which can scarcely
be exaggerated. This life, of which you say,
when we exhort you to devote it entirely to
your salvation; this life of which you say,
What! always — always; this life, which is but
a vapour dissipated in the air; this life, which
passes with the swiftness of a weaver's shuttle;
this life, which like a flower blooms in the
morning, and withers at night: this life, which
like a dream amuses the fancy for a night, and
of which not a vestige remains at the dawn of
day: — this is the life which is but like a thought.
And eternity, concerning which you regret to
be always employed; that abyss, that gulf, are
those mountainous heaps of years, of ages, of
millions and oceans of ages, of which language
the most expressive, images the most sublime,
geniuses the most acute, orators the most elo
quent, I have almost said, the most audacious,
can give you but imperfect notions.

Ah! life of fourscore years! A long duration
in the estimation of the heart, when employed
in wrestling against the flesh; but a short period
when compared with eternity. Ah! life of
fourscore years, spent wholly in watchfulness,
prayer, and warfare; but thou art well spent
when we obtain the prize of a blissful immor
tality! My brethren, my dear brethren, who

can live but fourscore years, What do I

say? Who among us can expect to see the age
of fourscore years? Christians, who are already
arrived at thirty, others at forty, others at fifty,
and another already at fourscore years. My
dear brethren, some of you must die in thirty,
some of you in twenty, some of you in ten
years, and some in a single day. My dear
brethren, let us consecrate to eternity the rem
nant of our days of vanity. Let us return to
the testimonies of the Lord, if we have had the
misfortune to deviate. Let us enter on the
race of salvation, if we have had the presump
tion to defer our entrance into it to the present
period. Let us run with patience the race, if
we have already made a progress; and let the

SEE. LXXXIV.]

FELIX AND DRUSILLA.

thought, the attracting, the ravishing thought
of the prize, which terminates the race, dispel,
from our mind, every idea of the difficulties
which obstruct the way. Amen! May God
give us grace so to do. To whom be honour
and glory, dominion, and magnificence, now
and for ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXXIV.

SAINT PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE
FELIX AND DRUSILLA.

ACTS xxiv. 24, 25.

Jlnd after certain days, when Felix came with his
wife Drusilla, which was a Jewess, he sent for
Paul, and heard him concerning the faith in
Christ. Jlnd as he reasoned of righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trem
bled, and answered; Go thy way for this time;
when I have a convenient season, I will call for
thee.

MY brethren, though the kingdom of the
righteous be not of this world, they present,
however, amidst their meanness, marks of dig
nity and power. They resemble Jesus Christ.
He humbled himself so far as to take the form
of a servant, but frequently exercised the rights
of a sovereign. From the abyss of humilia
tion to which he condescended, emanations of
the godhead were seen to proceed. Lord of
nature, he commanded the winds and seas.
He bade the storms and tempests subside. He
restored health to the sick, and life to the dead.
He imposed silence on the Rabbins: he embar
rassed Pilate on the throne; and disposed of
paradise, at the moment he himself was pierced
with the nails, and fixed on the cross. Behold
the portrait of believers! " They are dead.
Their life is hid with Christ in God," Col. iii.
3. " If they had hope only in this life, they
were of all men most miserable," 1 Cor. xv.
19. Nevertheless, they discover I know not
what superiority of birth. Their glory is not
so concealed, but we sometimes perceive its
lustre; just as the children of a king, when
unknown and in a distant province, betray in
their conversation and carriage indications of
illustrious descent.

We might illustrate this truth by numerous
instances. Let us attend to that in our text.
There we shall discover that association of
humility and grandeur, of reproach and glory,
which constitutes the condition of the faithful
while on earth. Behold St. Paul, a Christian,
an apostle, a saint. See him hurried from tri
bunal to tribunal, from province to province;
sometimes before the Romans, sometimes be
fore the Jews, sometimes before the high-priest
of the synagogue, and sometimes before the
procurator of Cesar. See him conducted from
Jerusalem to Cesarea, and summoned to ap
pear before Felix. In all these traits, do you
not recognise the Christian walking in the nar
row way, the way of tribulation, marked by his
Master's feet? But consider him nearer still.
Examine his discourse, look at his countenance;
there you will see a fortitude, a courage, and a
dignity, which constrains you to acknowledge
tliat there was something really grand in the

person of St. Paul. He preached Jesus Christ,
at the very moment he was persecuted, for
having preached him. Pie preached, even
when in chains. He did more; he attacked
his judge on the throne. He reasoned, he en
forced, he thundered. He seemed already to
exercise the function of judging the world,
which God has reserved for the saints. He
made Felix tremble. Felix felt himself borne
away by a superior force. Unable to hear St.
Paul any longer without appalling fears, he
sent him away. "After certain days, when
Felix came with his wife Drusilla, he sent for
Paul, and heard him concerning the faith in
Christ," &c.

We find here three considerations which
claim attention. An enlightened preacher,
who discovers a very peculiar discernment in
the selection of his subjects. A conscience
appalled, and confounded on the recollection of
its crimes, and of that awful judgment where
they must be weighed. We find, in fact, a
sinner alarmed, but not converted; a sinner who
desires to be saved, but delays his conversion;
a case, alas! but of too common occurrence.

You perceive already, my brethren, the sub
ject of this discourse; I. That St. Paul reason
ed before Felix and Drusilla, of righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come; II. That
Felix trembled; III. That he sent the apostle
away: three considerations which shall divide
this discourse. May it produce on your hearts,
on the hearts of Christians, the same effects St.
Paul produced on the soul of this heathen; but
may it have a happier influence on your lives.
Amen.

I. Paul preached before Felix and Drusilla,
" on righteousness, temperance, and judgment
to come." This is the first object of discussion.
Before, however, we proceed farther with our
remarks, we must first sketch the character of
this Felix, and this Drusilla, which will serve
as a basis to the first proposition.

After the sceptre was departed from Judah,
and the Jewish nation subjugated by Pompey,
the Roman emperors governed the country by
procurators. Claudius filled the imperial throne
while St. Paul was at Cesarea. This empe
ror had received a servile education from his
grandmother Lucia, and from his mother An-
tonia; and, having been brought up in obse
quious meanness, evinced, on his elevation to
the empire, marks of the inadequate care
which had been bestowed on his infancy. He
had neither courage nor dignity of mind. He
who was raised to sway the Roman sceptre,
and consequently to govern the civilized world,
abandoned his judgment to his freed-men, and
gave them a complete ascendancy over his
mind. Felix was one of those freed-men. "He
exercised," and these are the words of a Ro
man historian (Tacitus,) " he exercised in Ju-
dea, the imperial functions with a mercenary
soul." Voluptuousness and avarice were the
predominant vices of his heart. We have a
proof of his avarice immediately after our
text, where, it is said, he sent for Paul, — not
to hear him concerning the truth of the gospel
which this apostle had preached with so much
power; — not to inquire whether this religion,
against which the Jews had raised the stand
ard, was contrary to the interest of the state; —

294

ST. PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE

LXXXIV.

but because he hoped to have received money
for his liberation. Here is the effect of avarice.

Josephus recites an instance of his voluptu
ousness. It is his marriage with Drusilla. She
was a Jewess, as is remarked in our text. King
Azizus, her former husband, was a heathen;
and in order to gain her affections, he had con
formed to the most rigorous ceremonies of Ju
daism. Felix saw her, and became enamoured
of her beauty. He conceived for her a violent
passion; and, in defiance of the sacred ties
which had united her to a husband, he resolv
ed to become master of her person. His ad
dresses were received. Drusilla violated her
former engagements, preferring to contract
with Felix an illegitimate marriage, to an ad
herence to the chaste ties which united her to
Azizus. Felix the Roman, Felix the procura
tor of Judea, and the favourite of Cesar, ap
peared to her a noble acquisition. It is indeed
a truth, we may here observe, that grandeur
and fortune are charms which mortals find the
greatest difficulty to resist; and against which
the purest virtue has need to be armed with all
its constancy. Recollect those two characters
of Felix and Drusilla. St. Paul, before those
two personages, treated concerning " the faith
in Christ;" that is, concerning the Christian
religion, of which Jesus Christ is the sum and
substance, the author and the end: and from
the numerous doctrines of Christianity, he se
lected "righteousness, temperance, and judg
ment to come."

Here is, my brethren, an admirable text; but
a text selected with discretion. Fully to com
prehend it, recollect the character we have
given of Felix. He was covetous, luxurious,
and governor of Judea. St. Paul selected
three subjects, correspondent to these charac
teristics. Addressing an avaricious man, he
treated of righteousness. Addressing the go
vernor of Judea, one of those persons who think
themselves independent, and responsible to
none but themselves for their conduct, he treat
ed of "judgment to come."

My brethren, when a man preaches for pop
ularity, instead of seeking the glory of Christ^
lie seeks his own; he selects subjects calculated
to display his talents, and flatter his audience.
Does he preach before a professed infidel, he
will expatiate on morality; and be ashamed to
pronounce the venerable words — covenant — sa
tisfaction. Does he address an Antinomian au
dience, who would be offended were he to en
force the practical duties of religion; he makes
every thing proceed from election, reprobation
and the irresistibility of grace. Does he preach
in the presence of a profligate court, he will
enlarge on the liberty of the gospel, and the
clemency of God. He has the art, — (a most
detestable art, but too well understood in all
ages of the church,) — he has the art of unit
ing his interests and his ministry. A politi
cal preacher endeavours to accommodate his
preaching to his passions. Minister of Christ,
and minister of his own interests, to express
myself with this apostle, he " makes a gain of
godliness:" on this principle had Felix express
ed a desire to understand the gospel, St. Paul
had a favourable opportunity of paying his
court in a delicate manner. The Christian re
ligion has a favourable aspect towards every

class of men. He might have discussed some
of those subjects which would have flattered
the governor. He might have discoursed on
the dignity of princes, and on the relation they
have to the Supreme Being. He might have
said, that the magistrate " beareth not th«
sword in vain," Rom. xiii. 4. That the Deity
himself has said, " ye are gods, and ye are all the
children of the most High," Ps. Ixxxii. 6. But
all this adulation, all this finesse, were unknown
to our apostle. He sought the passions of Fe
lix in their source. He forced the sinner in his
last retreat. He boldly attacked the governor
with " the sword of the Spirit," and with " the
hammer of the word." Before the object of his
passion, and the subject of his crime, before
Drusilla, he treated of " temperance." When
Felix sent for him to satiate his avarice, he
talked of" righteousness." While the gover
nor was in his highest period of splendour, he
discoursed "of a judgment to come."

Preachers of the court, confessors to princes,
pests of the public, who are the chief promo
ters of the present persecution, and the cause
of our calamities! O that I could animate you
by the example of St. Paul: and make you
blush for your degeneracy and turpitude! My
brethren, you know a prince; — and would to
God we knew him less! but let us respect the
lustre of a diadem; let us venerate the Lord's
anointed in the person of our enemy. Exam
ine the discourses delivered in his presence;
read the sermons pompously entitled, " Ser
mons preached before the king;" and see those
other publications, dedicated to — The perpe
tual conqueror, whose battles were so many
victories — terrible in war — adorable in peace.
You will there find nothing but flattery and
applause. Who ever struck in his presence,
at ambition and luxury? Who ever ventured
there to maintain the rights of the widow and
the orphan? Who, on the contrary, has not
magnified the greatest crimes into virtues; and,
by a species of idolatry before unknown, made
Jesus Christ himself subservient to the vanity
of a mortal man?

Oh! but St. Paul would have preached in
a different manner! Before Felix, before Dru
silla, he would have said that, " fornicators
shall not inherit the kingdom of God," 1 Cor.
vi. 9, 10. In the midst of an idolatrous peo
ple, he would have painted, in the liveliest co
lours, innocence oppressed, the faith of edicts
violated, the Rhine overflowing with blood,
the Palatinate still smoking, and buried in its
own ashes. I check myself; we again repeat
it; let us respect the sacred grandeur of kings,
and let us deplore their grandeur, which ex
poses them to the dangerous poison of adula
tion and flattery.

This suggests an important reflection; a re
flection concerning the necessity which should
induce sovereigns to have ecclesiastics about
their persons, who would address them with
frankness, and prompt them to the recollection
of their duty. Grandeur, power, and applause,
(we are obliged to make the observations in
our pulpits, in places where decorum requires
attention; for we are of no consideration in
the bustle of a splendid court;) grandeur, pow
er, and applause, are charms against which it
is very difficult for the human mind to retain

SKR. LXXXIV.]

FELIX AND DRUSILLA.

295

its superiority. Amid so many dangers, if a man
have no guide but himself, no preacher but his
conscience; if, instead of attending to the so
ber dictates of truth, he is surrounded with
flatterers, how can he resist so many attrac
tions? And, if he do not resist, how can he
be saved? For in fact, the same laws are given
to the high and the low; to the rich and the
poor; to the sovereign and the subject.

In society, there is a gradation of rank. One
is king, another is a subject; one tramples a
carpet of purple and gold under his feet, ano
ther leads a languishing life, begging a preca
rious pittance of bread: one is drawn in a su
perb carriage, another wades through the dirt.
But before the judgment-seat of Christ, all
these distinctions will be no more. There will
then be no respect of persons. The same no
thing is our origin; the same dust is our end;
the same Creator gave us being; the same Sa
viour accomplished our redemption; and the
same tribunal must decide our eternal destiny.
How very important is it, when a man is ele
vated to dignities, inaccessible, so to speak, to
reflections of this nature, — how very impor
tant is it to have a faithful friend, a minister
of Christ, a St. Paul, fully enlightened in the
knowledge of the truth, and bold enough to
declare it to others!

The commission is arduous to execute. It
is difficult in the ordinary course of life to give
advice to equals. The repugnance which men
evince on being told of their faults, occasions
their being seldom cautioned. How much
more difficult then to speak impartially to those,
in whose presence our minds are mostly assail
ed with intimidating bashfulness, and who hold
our life and fortune in their hands?

It behoves, notwithstanding, the ministers
of Christ to maintain the dignity of their cha
racter. Never had orators a finer field for com
manding attention. Never were subjects sus
ceptible of a more grave and manly eloquence,
than those which they discuss. They have mo
tives the most powerful to press, and passions
the most impetuous to move. They have an
eternity of glory to promise, and an eternity
of misery to denounce. They are ambassadors
* of a Potentate, in whose presence, all the kings
of the earth are but " as the small dust of the
balance." Behold St. Paul, fully impressed
with the grandeur of his mission. He forgot
the grandeur of Felix. He did more; he made
him forget himself. He made him receive ad
monition with reverence. " He reasoned of
righteousness, temperance, and judgment to
come."

Ministers of Jesus Christ, here is our tutor,
who prepares us for the sanctuary. And you,
Christians, here is our apology. You complain
when we interfere with the shameful secrets
of your vice; consider St. Paul. He is the

» model God has set before us. He requires us
to speak with freedom and force; to exhort
"in season and out of season;" to thunder in
our pulpits; to go even to your houses, and
disturb that fatal security which the sinner en
joys in the commission of his crimes. He re
quires us to say, to the revenue-officers, " ex
act no more than that which is appointed;" to
the soldiers, " do violence to no man, and be
content with your wages;" to Herod, " it is

not lawful for thee to have thy brother Philip's
wife," Luke iii. 12 — 14. You are not higher
than Felix, neither are we in chains like St.
Paul. But though we were yet more deeply
abased; and though the character we sustain
seemed to you yet more vile; and though to
the rank of Jewish governor, you should su-
peradd, that of Roman emperor, and sovereign
of the world; despising all this vain parade,
we would maintain the majesty of our Master.
So St. Paul conducted himself before Felix
and Drusilla. " He reasoned of righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come."

But who can here supply the brevity of the
historian, and report the whole of what the
apostle said to Felix on these important points?
It seems to me, that I hear him enforcing those
important truths he has left us in his works,
and placing in the fullest lustre those divine
maxims interspersed in our Scriptures. " He
reasoned of righteousness." There he main
tained the rights of the widow and the orphan.
There he demonstrated, that kings and magis
trates are established to maintain the rights of
the people, and not to indulge their own ca
price; that the design of supreme authority is
to make the whole happy by the vigilance of
one, and not to gratify one at the expense of
all; that it is meanness of mind to oppress the
wretched who have no defence but cries and
tears; that nothing is so unworthy of an en
lightened man as that ferocity, with which
some are inspired by dignity; and which ob
structs their respect for human nature, when
undisguised by worldly pomp; that nothing is
so noble as goodness and grandeur, associated
in the same character; that this is the highest
felicity; that in some sort it transforms the soul
into the image of God; who, from the high
abodes of majesty in which he dwells sur
rounded with angels and cherubim, deigns to
look down on this mean world which we in
habit, and " leaves not himself without witness,
doing good to all."

"He reasoned of temperance." There, he
would paint the licentious effects of voluptu
ousness. There he would demonstrate how
opposite this propensity is to the spirit of the
gospel; which every where enjoins retirement,
mortification, and self-denial. He would show
how it degrades the finest characters, who
have suffered it to predominate. Intemper
ance renders the mind incapable of reflection.
It debases the courage. It debilitates the mind.
It softens the soul. He would demonstrate the
meanness of a man called to preside over a
great people, who exposes his foibles to public
view: not having resolution to conceal, much
less to vanquish them. With Drusilla, he
would make human motives supply the defects
of divine; with Felix, he would make divine
motives supply the defects of human. He
would make this impudent woman feel that
nothing on earth is more odious than a woman
destitute of honour; that modesty is an appen
dage of the sex; that an attachment, uncement-
ed by virtue, cannot long subsist; that those
who receive illicit favours, are the first, ac
cording to the fine remark of a sacred historian,
to detest the indulgence: " The haired where
with Amnon, son of David, hated his sister,
after the gratification of his brutal passion, was

296

ST. PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE

[SER. LXXXIV.

greater than the love wherewith he had loved
her," 2 Sam. xiii. 15. He would make Felix
perceive, that however the depravity of the age
might seem to tolerate a criminal intercourse
among persons of the other sex, with God,
who has called us all to equal purity, the crime
was not less heinous.

" He reasoned," in short, " of judgment to
come." And here he would magnify his min
istry. When our discourses are regarded as
connected only with the present period, their
force I grant is of no avail. We speak for a
Master, who has left us clothed with infirmities,
which discover no illustrious marks of Him,
by whom we are sent. We have only our
voice, only our exhortations, only our entrea
ties. Nature is not inverted at our pleasure.
The visitations of heaven do not descend at
our command to punish your indolence and
revolts: that powder was very limited, even to
the apostles. The idea of a future state, the
solemnities of a general judgment supply our
weakness; and St. Paul enforced this motive;
he proved its reality: he delineated its lustre,
he displayed its pomp. He resounded in the
ears of Felix, the noise, the voices, the trumpets.
He showed him the small and great, the rich
man and Lazarus, Felix the favourite of Ce
sar, and Paul the captive of Felix, awoke by
that awful voice; " Arise ye dead, and come to
judgment."

But not to be precipitate in commending the
apostle's preaching. Its encomiums will best
appear by attending to its effects on the mind
of Felix. St. Jerome wished concerning a
preacher of his time, that the tears of his audi
ence might compose the eulogy of his sermons.
We shall find in the tears of Felix occasion to
applaud the eloquence of our apostle. We
shall find that his discourses were thunder and
lightning in the congregation; as the Greeks
used to say concerning one of their orators.
While St. Paul preached, Felix felt I know
not what agitations in his mind. The recollec
tion of his past life; the sight of his present sins;
Drusilla, the object of his passion and subject
of his crime; the courage of St. Paul; all terri
fied him. His " heart burned," while that
disciple of Jesus Christ expounded the Scrip
tures. The word of God was quick and power
ful. The apostle, armed with the two-edged
sword, dividing the soul, the joints, and the
marrow, carried conviction to the heart. Fe
lix trembled, adds our historian, Felix trem
bled! The fears of Felix are our second re
flection.

II. What a surprising scene, my brethren,
is here presented to your view? The governor
trembled, arid the captive spoke without dis
may. The captive made the governor tremble.
The governor shivered in presence of the cap
tive. It would not be surprising, brethren, if
we should make an impression on your hearts
(and we should do so indeed, if our ministry
is not, as usual, a sound of empty words:) it
would not be surprising if we should make
some impression on the hearts of our hearers.
This sanctuary, these solemnities, these groans,
this silence, these arguments, these efforts, —
all aid our ministry, and unite to convince and
persuade you. But here is an orator destitute

of these extraneous aids: behold him without
any ornament but the truth he preached. What
do I say, that he was destitute of extraneous
aids? Sec him in a situation quite the reverse;— -
a captive, loaded with irons, standing before
his judge. Yet he made Felix tremble. Felix
trembled! Whence proceeded this fear, and
this confusion? Nothing is more worthy of
your inquiry. Here we must stop for a mo
ment: follow us while we trace this fear to its
source. We shall consider the character of
Felix under different views: as a heathen, im
perfectly acquainted with a future judgment,
and the life to come: as a prince, or governor,
accustomed to see every one humble at his
feet: as an avaricious magistrate, loaded with
extortions and crimes: in short, as a voluptuous
man, who had never restricted the gratification
of his senses. These are so many reasons of
Felix's fears.

First, we shall consider Felix as a heathen,
imperfectly acquainted with a future judgment,
and the life to come: I say, imperfectly ac
quainted, and not as wholly ignorant, the hea
thens having the " work of the law written in
their hearts," Rom. ii. 15. The force of habit
had corrupted nature, but had not effaced its
laws. They acknowledged a j udgment to come,
but their notions were confused concerning its
nature.

Such were the principles of Felix; or rather,
such was the imperfection of his principles,
when he heard this discourse of St. Paul. You
may infer his fears from his character. Figure
to yourselves a man, hearing for the first time,
the maxims of equity and righteousness incul
cated in the gospel. Figure to yourselves, a
man who heard corrected the immorality of
pagan theology; what was doubtful, illustrated;
and what was right, enforced. See a man,
who knew of no other God but the incestuous
Jupiter, the lascivious Venus, taught that he
must appear before Him, in whose presence
the seraphim veil their faces, and the heavens
are not clean. Behold a man, whose notions
were confused concerning the state of souls
after death, apprised that God shall judge the
world in righteousness. See a man, who saw
described the smoke, the fire, the chains of
darkness, the outer darkness, the lake of fire
and brimstone; and who saw them delineated
by one animated by the Spirit of God. What
consternation must have been excited by these
terrific truths!

This we are incapable adequately to com
prehend. We must surmount the insensibility,
acquired by custom. It is but too true, that
our hearts, instead of being impressed by these
truths, in proportion to their discussion — our
hearts are the more obdurate. We hear them
without alarm, having so frequently heard them
before. But if, like Felix, we had been brought
up in the darkness of paganism; and if another
Paul had come and opened our eyes, and un
veiled those sacred terrors, how exceedingly
should we have feared? This was the case
with Felix. He perceived the bandage to
drop in a moment, which conceals the sight
of futurity. He heard St. Paul, that herald
of grace, and ambassador to the gentiles. He
heard him reason on temperance, and a judg-

SER. LXXXIV.]

FELIX AND DRUSILLA.

297

raent to come. His soul was amazed; his
heart trembled; his knees smote one against
another.

Amazing effects, my brethren, of conscience!
evident argument of the vanity of those gods,
which idolatry adores, after it has given them
form! Jupiter and Mercury, it is true, had their
altars in the temples of the heathens; but the
God of heaven and earth has his tribunal in the
heart: and, while idolatry presents its incense
to sacrilegious and incestuous deities, the God
of heaven and earth, reveals his terrors to the
conscience, and there loudly condemns both
incest and sacrilege.

Secondly, consider Felix, as a prince; and
you will find in this second office, a second
cause of his fear. When we perceive the great
men of the earth devoid of every principle of
religion, and even ridiculing those very truths
which are the objects of our faith; we feel that
faith to waver. They excite a certain suspi
cion in the mind, that our sentiments are only
prejudices; which have become rooted in man,
brought up in the obscurity of humble life.
Here is the apology of religion. The Caligu-
las, the Neros, these potentates of the universe,
have trembled in their turn as well as the
meanest of their subjects. This independence
of mind, so conspicuous among libertines, is
consequently an art, — not of disengaging them
selves from prejudices, — but of shutting their
eyes against the light, and of extinguishing the
purest sentiments of the heart. Felix, educated
in a court, fraught with the maxims of the
great, instantly ridicules the apostle's preach
ing. St. Paul, undismayed, attacks him, and
finds a conscience concealed in his bosom: the
very dignity of Felix is constrained to aid our
apostle, by adding weight to his ministry. He
demolishes the edifice of Felix's pride. He
shows, that if a great nation was dependent on
his pleasure, he himself was dependent on a
sovereign, in whose presence the kings of the
earth are as nothing. He proves that dignities
are so very far from exempting men from the
judgment of God; that, for this very reason,
their account becomes the more weighty, riches
being a trust which Heaven has committed to
the great: and " where much is given, much
is required." He makes him feel this awful
truth, that princes are responsible, not only for
their own souls, but also for those of their sub
jects; their good or bad example influencing,
for the most part, the people committed to
their care.

See then Felix in one moment deprived of
his tribunal. The judge became a party. He
saw himself rich and in need of nothing; and
yet he was " blind, and naked, and poor." He
heard a voice from the God of the whole earth,
saying unto him, " Thou profane and wicked
prince, remove the diadem, and take off the
crown. I will overturn, overturn, overturn it,
and it shall be no more," Ezek. xxi. 25, 26.
" Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and
though thou set thy nest among the stars,
thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord,"
Obad. 4. Neither the dignity of governor,
nor the favour of Cesar, nor all the glory of em
pire shall deliver thee out of rny hand.

Thirdly, I restrict myself, my brethren, as
much as possible, in order to execute without
VOL. II.— 38

exceeding my limits, the plan I have conceived;
and proceed to consider Felix as an avaricious
man; to find in this disposition a farther cause of
his fear- Felix was avaricious, and St. Paul
instantly transported him into a world, in
which avarice shall receive its appropriate and
most severe punishment. For you know that
the grand test by which we shall be judged is
charity. " I was hungry, and ye gave me
meat;" and of all the obstructions of charity,
covetousness is the most obstinate and insur
mountable.

This unhappy propensity renders us insensi
ble of our neighbour's necessities. It magni
fies the estimate of our wants: it diminishes
the wants of others. It persuades us that we
have need of all, that others have need of no
thing. Felix began to perceive the iniquity
of this passion, and to feel that he was guilty
of double idolatry. Idolatry in morality, idol
atry in religion. Idolatry in having offered
incense to gods, who were not the makers of
heaven and earth; idolatry in having offered
incense to mammon. For, the Scriptures teach,
and experience confirms, " that covetousness
is idolatry." The covetous man is not a wor
shipper of the true God. Gold and silver are
the divinities he adores. His heart is with his
treasure. Here then is the portrait of Felix; —
a portrait drawn by St. Paul in the presence of
Felix; and which reminded this prince of in
numerable prohibitions, innumerable frauds,
innumerable extortions; of the widow and the
orphan he had oppressed. Here is the cause
of Felix's fears. According to an expression
of St. James, the " rust of his gold and silver
began to witness against him, and to eat his
flesh as with fire," James v. 3.

Fourthly, consider Felix as a voluptuous
man. Here is the final cause of his fear.
Without repeating all we have said on the de
pravity of this passion, let one remark suffice;
that, if the torments of hell are terrific to all,
they must especially be so to the voluptuous.
The voluptuous man never restricts his sensual
gratification; his soul dies on the slightest ap
proach of pain. What a terrific impression
must not the thought of judgment make on
such a character! Shall I, accustomed to in
dulgence and pleasure, become a prey to the
worm that dieth not, and fuel to the fire which
is not quenched! Shall I, who avoid pain with
so much caution, be condemned to eternal tor
ments! Shall I have neither delicious meatSp
nor voluptuous delights! This body, my idol,
which I habituate to so much delicacy, shall
it be " cast into the lake of lire and brimstone,
whose smoke ascendeth up for ever and ever!"
And this effeminate habit I have of refining1
on pleasure, will it render me only the more
sensible of my destruction and anguish!

Such are the traits of Felix's character;
such are the causes of Felix's fear. Happy,
if his fear had produced that " godly sorrow,
and that repentance unto salvation not to be
repented of." Happy, if the fear of hell had
induced him to avoid its torments. But, ah
no! he feared, and yet persisted, in the causes
of his fear. He trembled, yet said to St. Paul,
" Go thy way for this time." This is our last
reflection.

III. How preposterous, my brethren, is the

298

ST. PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE

[SER. LXXXIV.

sinner! What absurdities does he cherish in
his heart! For, in short, had the doctrines
St. Paul preached to Felix been the produc
tions of his brain; — had the idea, which he
gave him of rectitude and injustice, been a
prejudice; — had the thought of a future judg
ment been a chimera, whence proceeded the
fears of Felix? Why was he so weak as to ad
mit this panic of terror? If, on the contrary,
Paul had truth and argument on his side, why
did Felix send him away? Such are the con
tradictions of the sinner. He wishes; he re
volts; he denies; he grants; he trembles, and
Bays, " Go thy way for this time." Speak to
him concerning the truths of religion; open
hell to his view, and you will see him affected,
devout, and appalled; follow him in life, and
you will find that these truths have no influ
ence whatever on his conduct.

But are we not mistaken concerning Felix?
Did not the speech of St. Paul make a deeper
impression upon him than we seem to allow?
He sent the apostle away, it is true, but it was
" for this time only." And who can censure
this delay? We cannot be always recollected
and retired. The infirmities of human nature
require relaxation and repose. Felix could af
terward recall him. " Go thy way for this
time; when I have a convenient season, I will
send for thee."

It pains me, I confess, my brethren, in en
tering on this head of my discourse, that I
should exhibit to you in the person of Felix,
the portrait of whom? Of wicked men? Alas!
of nearly the whole of this assembly; most of
whom seem to us living in negligence and vice,
running with the children of this world " to the
same excess of 'riot." One would suppose,
that they had already made their choice, hav
ing embraced one or the other of these notions,
either that religion is a phantom, or that, all
things considered, it is better to endure the tor
ments of hell, than to be restricted to the
practice of virtue. O no; that is not their no
tion. Ask the worst among them. Ask whe
ther they have renounced their salvation? You
will not find an individual who will say, that
he has renounced it. Ask them again, whe
ther they think it attainable by following this
way of life? They will answer, No. Ask
thenl afterward, how they reconcile things so
opposite, as their life, and their hope? They
will answer, that they are resolved to reform,
and by and by they will enter on the work.
They will say, as Felix said to St. Paul, " Go
thy way for this time; when I have a conve
nient season, I will call for thee." Nothing
is less wise than this delay. At a future pe
riod I will reform. But who has assured me,
that at a future period I shall have opportuni
ties of conversion? Who has assured me that
God will continue to call me, and that another
Paul shall thunder in my ears?

I will reform at a future period! But who
has told me, that God at a future period will
accompany his word with the powerful aids of
grace? While Paul may plant and Apollos
may water, is it not God who gives the in
crease? How then can I flatter myself, that
the Holy Spirit will continue to knock at the
door of 'my heart, after I shall have so fre
quently obstructed his admission?

I I will reform in future! But who has told

I me, that I shall even desire to be converted?

I Do not habits become confirmed in proportion

as they are indulged? And is not an inveterate

evil very difficult to cure? If I cannot bear

the excision of a slight gangrene, how shall I

sustain the operation when the wound is deep?

I will reform in future! But who has told
me, that I shall live to a future period? Does
not death advance every moment with gigan
tic strides? Does he not assail the prince in
his palace, and the peasant in his cottage?
Does he riot send before him monitors and
messengers; — acute pains, which wholly ab
sorb the soul; — deliriums, that render reason of
no avail;— deadly stupors, which benumb the
brightest and most piercing geniuses? And
what is still more awful, does he not daily come
without either warning or messenger? Does
he not snatch away this man without allowing
him time to be acquainted with the essentials
of religion; and that man, without the restitu
tion of riches ill-acquired; and the other, be
fore he is reconciled to his enemy?

Instead of saying, " Go thy way for this
time," we should say, stay for this time. Stay,
while the Holy Spirit is knocking at the door
of my heart; stay, while my conscience is
alarmed; stay, while I yet live; " while it is
called to-day." The arguments confound my
conscience: no matter. " Thy hand is heavy
upon me:" no matter still. Cut, strike, con
sume; provided it procure my salvation.

But, however criminal this delay may be,
we seem desirous to excuse it. " Go thy way
for this time; whet I have a convenient sea
son, I will call for thee." It was Felix's bust'
ness then which induced him to put off the
apostle. Unhappy business! Awful occupa
tion! It seems an enviable situation, my bre
thren, to be placed at the head of a province;
to speak in the language of majesty; to decide
on the fortunes of a numerous people; and in
all cases to be the ultimate judge. But those
situations, so happy and so dazzling in appear
ance, are in the main dangerous to the con
science! Those innumerable concerns, this
noise arid bustle, entirely dissipate the soul.
While so much engaged on ecirth, we cannot
be mindful of heaven. When we have no lei
sure, we say to St. Paul, " Go thy way for this
time; when I have a convenient season, I will
call for thee."

Happy he, who, amid the tumult of the
most active life, has hours consecrated to re
flection, to the examination of his conscience,
and to ensure the " one thing needful!" Or
rather, happy he, who, in the repose of the
middle classes of society, — placed between in
digence and affluence, — far from the courts of
the great, — having neither poverty nor rich
es according to Agur's wish, can in retirement
and quietness see life sweetly glide away, and
make salvation, if not the sole, yet his princi
pal concern!

Felix not only preferred his business to his
salvation, but he mentions it with evasive dis
dain. " When I have a convenient season, I
will call for thee." — "When I have a conve
nient season!" Might we not thence infer,
that the truths discussed by St. Paul were not
of serious importance? Might we not infer,

SER. LXXXIV.]

FELIX AND DRUSILLA.

299

that the soul of Felix was created for the go
vernment of Judea; and that the grand doc
trines of righteousness, temperance, and a
judgment to come, ought to serve at most but
to pass away the time, or merely to engross
one's leisure? "When I have a convenient
season." —

Ah! unhappy Felix, what hast thou to do of
such vast importance? Is it to execute the
imperial commission? But art thou not a sub
ject of the King of kings, in whose presence
Cesar himself is but a worm of earth?" Has
not God given thee a soul to improve, virtues
to acquire, and an eternal kingdom to conquer?
Was it to immerse thyself in sensual pleasures?
But how canst thou taste those pleasures, after
the terrific portrait of a future judgment,
which has been exhibited to thy view? Does
not the voice of St. Paul perpetually resound
in thy ears; and, like a fury obstinately attend
ing thy steps, does it not disturb thy indolence
and voluptuous delight.

We suspend here the course of our medita
tion, to close with a few reflections on the
truths we have delivered. We have affirmed
in the body of this discourse, and with the
greatest propriety, that we should commence
the application with regard to ourselves. St.
Paul here communicates an important lesson
to all ministers of the gospel. His sincerity,
his courage, his constancy, are perfect models;
on which every faithful pastor should form
himself. Let us follow, rny most honoured
brethren, this illustrious model. " Let us be
followers of him, even as he was of Christ."
Like him, let us never temporize with the sin
ner. Like' him, let us speak of righteousness
to the covetous; of temperance to the volup
tuous; of a future judgment to the great of
this world, and to all those \vi;om objects less
terrific are incapable to alarm. Let us never
say, " peace, peace, when there is no peace."
Let us thunder, let us expostulate, let us shoot
against them the arrows of the Almighty's
wrath; not fearing the Felixes and Drusillas
of our age. Here is our vocation. Here is
the charge which God now delivers to every
one who has the honour of succeeding Paul in
the order of the ministry.

But how shall we discharge the duty? What
murmuring would not a similar liberty excite
among our hearers? If we should address you
as St. Paul addressed Felix; if we should de
clare war against you individually; if we should
unmask the many mysteries of iniquity, in
which you are involved; if we should rend the
veil which covers so many dishonourable prac
tices; you would interrupt us; you would re
taliate on our weakness and infirmities; you
would say, " Go thy way for this time;" carry
elsewhere a ministry so disgustful and revolting.
Well! we will accomodate ourselves to your
taste. We will pay all deference to your ar
guments, and respect even a false delicacy.
But if we exercise this indulgence towards
you, permit us to expect the same in return,
and to make for the moment this chimerical
supposition. You know the character of St.
Paul; at least you ought to know it. If you
are unacquainted with it, the discourse he de
livered in the presence of Felix is sufficient to
delineate its excellence. Suppose, instead of

the sermon you have heard, that St. Paul had
addressed this assembly. Suppose, instead of
what we have now advanced, this apostle had
preached, and filled the place in which we now
stand. Suppose that St. Paul, that sincere
preacher, that man, who, before Felix and
Drusilla, " reasoned of righteousness, temper
ance, and judgment to come." Suppose he had
preached to-day before the multitude now pre
sent: let us speak ingenuously. What sort of
application would he have made? What sub
ject would he have discussed? What vices
would he have reproved? What estimate would
he have formed of most of your lives? What
judgment would he have entertained concern
ing this worldly spirit, which captivates so
great a multitude? What would he have said
of that insatiable avarice in the acquisition of
wealth, which actuates the general mass;
which makes us like the grave, incessantly cry
ing, Give, give, and never says, It is enough?
What would he have said concerning the in
difference about religion said to be found
among many of us, as though the sacrifices,
formerly made for our reformation, had been
the last efforts of expiring religion, which no
longer leaves the slightest trace upon the mind?
What would he have said of those infamous
debaucheries apparently sanctified by a frantic
custom, and which ought not to be named
among Christians?* Extend the supposition.
It is St. Paul who delivers those admonitions.
It is Paul himself who expands to your view
the hell he opened before Felix and Drusilla:
who conjures you by the awful glory of the
God, who will judge the living and the dead,
to reform your lives, and assume a conduct
correspondent to the Christian name you have
the honour to bear.

To the ministry of the apostle, we will join
exhortations, entreaties, and fervent prayers.
We conjure you by the mercies of that God
who took his Son from his own bosom and
gave him for you, and by the value of your
salvation, to yield a ministry so pathetic.

Be mindful of " righteousness, temperance,
and judgment to come." Observe this equity
in your dealings; never indulge the propensity
to unlawful gain. " Render to Cesar the things
that are Cesar's," Mark xii. 17. Respect the
rights of the sovereign. Pay " tribute to whom
tribute is due," Rom. xiii. 7. Let the indi
gence and obscurity of ycur labourers and
lowest artists be respectable in your sight; re
collecting that the " little that a righteous man
hath, is better than the riches of many wicked,"
Ps. xxxvii. 16. Do not narrow the rules of recti
tude; keep in view, that God did not send you
into the world to live for yourselves. To live
solely for ourselves is a maxim altogether unbe
coming a Christian; and to intrench ourselves
in hoards of gold and silver, placed above the
vicissitudes of human life, is a conduct the
most incompatible with that religion whose
sole characteristic is compassion and benevo
lence.

Observe also this temperance. Exclude luxury
from every avenue of your heart. Renounce

* In Pratt's Gleanings, we have an account of dancing
rooms in Holland, where ruined girls dance under the
lash of a superior. To these, and other shameful estab
lishments, Saurin seems to refer in several of his sermons,

300

ST. PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE, &c.

[SER. LXXXIV.

all unlawful pleasures, and every criminal in
trigue. Caution your conduct, especially in
this licentious place, in which the facility of
vice is a continual temptation to its charms.
Let your chastity be apparent in your dress, in
your furniture, in your conversation. " Let
your speech be always with grace, seasoned
with salt," Col. iv. 6. "According to St. Peter's
advice, " Let not the adorning of women be
that outward adorning, of plaiting the hair,
and of wearing gold, or of putting on of ap
parel; but let it be the hidden man of the
heart, even the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great
price," 1 Pet. iii. 3, 4. Recollect, that the
law of God is spiritual; that there is an im
purity of the mind, an adultery of the heart;
that certain desires to please, certain disguised
emotions, certain lascivious airs, and certain
attempts to wound the virtue of others (though
we may apparently observe the most rigid
rules of decorum,) may be as heinous before
God as the most glaring faults into which a
man may have been reluctantly precipitated by
his passions, and in which the will may have
had the less concern.

Keep constantly in view, " the judgment to
come." Think, O think, that an invisible eye
watches over all your actions. Think that
they are all registered in a faithful journal
which shall be produced before the universe,
in the great day, when Jesus Christ shall de
scend in glory from heaven.

My dear brethren, be not ingenious to en
feeble conviction by accounting the object re
mote. The trumpet is ready to sound, the
books are about to be opened, and the throne
is already prepared. The views of the soul
are circumscribed, like the sight of the body.
The narrow circle of surrounding objects en
grosses nearly the whole of our attention; and
retards the extension of thought to superior
concerns. The reality of a judgment com
prises so many amazing revolutions in the uni
verse, that we cannot regard the design as
ready for execution. We cannot conceive the
face of nature to change with such rapidity;
and that those awful revolutions which must
precede the advent of the Son of God, may
occur in a few ages. But let us not be deceiv
ed. I grant you are right in the principle, but
you err in the consequence. There is nothing
in the most distant occurrence of this period
which can flatter security. If the judgment
be remote with regard to the world, it is near
with respect to you. It is not necessary, with
regard to you, for the face of nature to be
changed, the Jews to be called into the cove
nant, the sound of the gospel to go to the end
of the earth, the moon to be turned to dark
ness, the stars to fall from heaven, the ele
ments to melt with fervent heat, the heavens
to pass away with a great noise, and the earth
to be dissolved. There is only wanting a defi
ciency of humours in your body; only a little
blood out of its place; only some fibre disor
ganized; only an inflammation in the head, a
little diminution or augmentation of heat or
cold in the brain; — and behold your sentence
is pronounced. Behold, with regard to you,
the world overturned, the sun darkened, the
moon become bloody, the gospel preached, the i

Jews converted, the elements dissolved, the
heavens folded up as a garment, the founda
tions of the earth shaken, and its fashion pass
ed away.

Enter seriously into these reflections. And,
since each of the duties we have just prescrib
ed requires time and labour, avoid dissipation
and excess of business. My brethren, it is
here that we would redouble our zeal, and
would yet find the way to your hearts. We
will not enter the detail of your engagements;
we will not turn over the pages of your ac
count. We will not visit your counting-houses.
We will not even put the question, whether
your business is always lawful; whether the
rights of the sovereign and the individual are
punctually discharged. We will suppose that
all is fair on these points. But consider only
that the most innocent engagements become
criminal, when pursued with excessive appli
cation, and preferred to the work of salvation.

This maxim belongs to you, merchants,
dealers, tradesmen. You see, at this period,
the poverty and wretchedness which assail an
infinite number of families. The soldier lan
guishes in the midst of war without employ
ment, and he is in some sort obliged to beg
his bread. The nobleman, far from his means
— a thousand times more unhappy than the
peasant — has no industry to procure his bread.
The learned man is even a burden; and the
productions of the greatest geniuses, so far
from receiving remuneration, are not even no
ticed.

Amidst such a series of calamities, you alone
have means for the acquisition of riches. A
government mild and lenient, a commerce
vast and productive, opens, if I may so speak,
all the avenues of fortune. The eastern and
western world seem to concur in the augmen
tation of your wealth. You live not only
with ease, but elegance. Your houses are
sumptuously furnished, your tables deliciously
served: and after the enjoyment of these ad
vantages, you transmit them to posterity; even
.after death you still taste and enjoy them in
the persons of your children. But it would
have been a thousand times better that you
should have lived to augment the number of
the wretched; if you permit these favours of
Heaven to frustrate your salvation; and put
off the apostle, saying, as to unhappy Felix,
" When I have seen a convenient season, I
will recall thee. Go thy way for this time."
I have payments to meet, I have orders to
write.

Let us seclude ourselves from bustle and
tumult. Let us seek retirement, recollection
and silence. And may the death which is at
hand, expressing myself with a prophet, in
duce us to "make haste and not delay re
turning to the testimonies of the Lord," Ps.
cxix. 59, 60.

My brethren, you are not sufficiently im
pressed with this thought. But we, — we, to
whom God has committed the superintendance
of a great people; — we, if I may so speak,
who are called to exercise our ministry in a
world of dead and dying men, who see lopped
off in succession every member of a numerous
flock; we are alarmed, when we consider the
delays which predominate in the conduct of

SER. LXXXV.]

ON THE COVENANT OF GOD, &c.

301

most Christians. We never ascend the pulpit,
but it seems that we address you for the last
time. It seems that we should exhaust the
whole of religion, to pluck our heroes from
the world, and never let them go till we have
intrusted them in the arms of Jesus Christ. It
seems that we should bid you an eternal fare
well; that we are stretched on our bed of
death, and that you are in a similar situation.

Yes, Christians, this is the only moment on
which we can reckon. It is, perhaps, the only
acceptable time. It is, perhaps, the last day of
our visitation. Let us improve a period so
precious. Let us no longer say, — by and by
— at another time; but let us — to-day — this
moment — even now. Let the pastor say, I
have been insipid in my sermons, and remiss
in my conduct; having been more solicitous,
during the exercise of my ministry, to advance
my family, than to build up the Lord's house. I
will preach hereafter with fervour and with zeal.
I will be vigilant, sober, rigorous, and 'disin
terested. Let the miser say, I have riches ill
acquired. I will purge my house with illicit
wealth. I will overturn the altar of Mammon,
and erect another to the Supreme Jehovah.
Let the prodigal say, I will extinguish the un
happy fires by which I am consumed, and
kindle in my bosom the flame of divine love.
Ah, unhappy passions, which war against my
soul; sordid attachments; irregular propensi
ties; emotions of concupiscence; law in the
members; I will know you no more. I will
make with you an eternal divorce, I will from
this moment open my heart to the Eternal
Wisdom, who condescends to ask it.

If we are in this happy disposition, if we
thus become regenerate, we shall enjoy from
this moment foretastes of the glory, which
God has prepared. From this moment, the
truths of religion, so far from casting discour
agement and terror on the soul, shall heighten
its consolation and joy; from this moment,
heaven shall open on this audience, paradise
shall descend into your heart, and the Holy
Spirit shall come and dwell there. He will
bring that peace, and those joys, which pass
all understanding. And, commencing our fe
licity on earth, he will give us the earnest of
his consummation. God grant us the grace!
To him, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be
honour and glory, now and ever. Amen.

SERMON LXXXV.

ON THE COVENANT OF GOD WITH
THE ISRAELITES.

DEUT. xxix. 10 — 19.

Ye stand this day all of you before the Lord your
God; your captains of your tribes, your elders,
and your officers, with all the men of Israel,
your little ones, your wives, and thy stranger
that is in thy camp, from thy hewer of wood,
unto the drawer of thy water: that thou should-
est enter into covenant with the Lord thy God,
and into his oath which the Lord thy God
maketh with thee this day: that he may establish
thee to-day, for a people unto himself: and that
he may be unto thee a God, as he hath been unto

thee, and as he hath sworn unto thy fathers, to
•Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, Neither with
you only do I make this covenant and this oath;
but with him that standeth here with us this day
before the Lord your God, and also icith him
that is not here this day (for ye know that we
have dwelt in the land of Egypt, and hmo we
came through the nations which ye passed by.
And ye have seen their abominations, and their
idols, wood and stone, silver and gold, which
were among them:) lest there should be among
you man or woman, or family, or tribe, whose
heart turneth away this day from the Lord your
God, to go and serve the gods of these nations;
lest there should be among you a root that bear'
eth gall and wormwood, and it come to pass,
when he heareth the words of this curse, that he
bless himself in his heart, saying, I shall have
peace though I walk in the imagination of mine
heart.

MY brethren, this sabbath is a covenant-day
between God and us. This is the design of
our sacraments; and the particular design of the
holy supper we have celebrated in the morning
service. So our catechists teach; so our chil
dren understand; and among the less instructed
of this assembly there is scarcely one, if we
should ask him what is a sacrament, but would
answer, " it is a symbol of the covenant be
tween God and Christians."

This being understood, we cannot observe
without astonishment the slight attention, most
men pay to an institution, of which they seem
to entertain such exalted notions. The ten
dency would not be happy in conciliating your
attention to the discourse, were I to commence
by a humiliating portrait of the manners of the
age;*5n which some of you would have occa
sion to recognise your own character. But the
fact is certain, and I appeal to your consciences.
Do we take the same precaution in contracting
a covenant with God in the eucharist, which is
exercised in a treaty on which the prosperity
of the state, or domestic happiness depends?
When the latter is in question, we confer with
experienced men, we weigh the terms, and in
vestigate with all possible sagacity, what is
stipulated to us, and what we stipulate in re
turn. But when we come to renew the high
covenant, in which the immortal God conde
scends to be our God, in which we devote our
selves to him, we deem the slightest examina
tion every way sufficient. We frequently even
repel with indignation a judicious man, who
would venture, by way of caution, to ask,
"What are you going to do? What engage
ments are you about to form? What calamities
are you about to bring on yourselves?"

One grand cause of this defect, proceeds, it
is presumed, from our having for the most part,
inadequate notions of what is called contract
ing, or renewing, our covenant with God.
We commonly confound the terms, by vague
or confused notions: hence one of the best re
medies we can apply to an evil so general, is
to explain their import with precision. Having
searched from Genesis to Revelation, for the
happiest text affording a system complete and
clear on the subject, I have fixed on the words
you have heard. They are part of the dis
course Moses addressed to the Israelites, when
', he arrived on the frontiers of the promised

302

ON THE COVENANT OF GOD

[SER. LXXXV.

land, and was about to give an account of the
most important ministry God had ever entrust
ed to any mortal.

I enter now upon the subject. And after
having again implored the aid of Heaven; after
having conjured you, by the compassion of
God, who this day pours upon us such an abun
dance of favours, to give so important a subject
the consideration it deserves; I lay down at
once a principle generally received among
Christians. The legal, and the evangelical
covenant. The covenant God contracted with
the Israelites by the ministry of Moses, and
the covenant he has contracted this morning
with you, differ only in circumstances, being
in substance the same. Properly speaking,
God has contracted but one covenant with
man since the fall, the covenant of grace upon
Mount Sinai; whose terrific glory induced the
Israelites to say, " Let not God speak with us,
lest we die," Exod. xx. 19. Amid so much
lightnings and thunders, devouring fire, dark
ness and tempest; and notwithstanding this pro
hibition, which apparently precluded all inter
course between God and sinful man, "Take
heed — go not up into the mount, or touch the
border of it: there shall not a hand touch it,
but he shall surely be stoned, or shot through;"
upon this mountain, I say, in this barren wil
derness, were instituted the tenderest ties God
ever formed with his creature: amid the awful
punishments which we see so frequently fall
upon those rebellious men; amid fiery serpents
which exhaled against them a pestilential breath,
God shed upon them the same grace he so
abundantly pours on our assemblies. The Is
raelites, to whom Moses addresses the words
of my text, had the same sacraments: *they
" were all baptized in the cloud; they did all
drink the same spiritual drink; for they drank
of that spiritual rock which followed them, and
that rock was Christ," 1 Cor. x. 2, 3. The
same appellations; it was said to them as to
you, "If ye will obey my voice indeed, and
keep my covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar
treasure unto me above all people, for all the
earth is mine," Exod. xix. 5. The same pro
mises; for " they saw the promises afar off, and
embraced them," Heb. xi. 13.

On the other hand, amid the consolatory ob
jects which God displays before us at this pe
riod, in distinguished lustre; and notwithstand
ing these gracious words which resound in this
church, " Grace, grace unto it." Notwith
standing this engaging voice, " Come unto me
all ye that labour, and are heavy laden;" and
amid the abundant mercy we have seen dis
played this morning at the Lord's table; if we
should violate the covenant he has established
with us, you have the same cause of fear as the
Jews. We have the same Judge, equally aw
ful now, as at that period; " for our God is a
consuming fire," Heb. xii. 29. We have the
same judgments to apprehend. " With many
of them, God was not well pleased; for they
were overthrown in the wilderness. Now
these things were for our examples, to the in
tent we should not lust after evil things, as
they also lusted. Neither be ye -idolaters, as
some of them. Neither let us commit fornica
tion as some of them committed, and fell in
one day twenty thousand. Neither let us tempt

1 Christ as some of them also tempted, and were
destroyed of serpents. Neither murmur ye, as
some of them also murmured, and were destroy
ed of the destroyer," 1 Cor. x 5 — 10. You
know the language of St. Paul.

Farther still: whatever superiority our con
dition may have over the Jews; in whatever
more attracting manner he may have now re
vealed himself to us; whatever more tender
bands, and gracious cords of love God may
have employed, to use an expression of a pro
phet, will serve only to augment our misery, if
we prove unfaithful. " For if the word spoken
by angels was steadfast, and every transgression
and disobedience received a just recompense of
reward, how shall we escape, if we neglect so
great salvation?" Heb. ii. 2, 3. " For ye are
not come unto the mountain that might be
touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto
blackness, and darkness, and tempest, and the
sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words,
which voice they that heard, entreated that the
word should not be spoken to them any more.
But ye are come unto Mount Zion, and unto
the city of the living God, the heavenly Jeru
salem, and to an innumerable company of an
gels, to the general assembly and church of the
first-born, which are written in heaven, and to
God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just
men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator
of the new covenant, and to the blood of
sprinkling, that speaketh better things than
that of Abel. See that ye refuse not him that
speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused
him that spake on earth, much more shall not
we escape, if we turn away from him that
speaketh from heaven," Heb. xii. 18 — 25.

Hence the principle respecting the legal, and
evangelical covenant is indisputable. The co
venant God formerly contracted with the Is
raelites by the ministry of Moses, and the cove
nant he has made with us this morning in the
sacrament of the holy supper are but one cove
nant. And what the legislator said of the first,
"n the words of my text, we may say of the se
cond, in the explication we shall give. Now,
my brethren, this faithful servant of God re
quired the Israelites to consider five things in
the covenant they contracted with their Maker.

I. The sanctity of the place: "Ye stand this
day all of you before the Lord; that is, before
lis ark, the most august symbol of his presence."

II. The universality of the contract: " Ye
stand this day all of you before the Lord, the
captains of your tribes, your elders, your of
ficers, and all the men of Israel: your little
ones, your wives, and the stranger who is in
the midst of your camp, from the hewer of
wood to the drawer of water."

III. Its mutual obligation: " That he may,
on the one hand, establish thee to-day for a
jeople unto himself; and on the other, that he
nay be unto thee a God."

IV. The extent of the engagement: an en
gagement with .reserve. God covenants to

jive himself to the Israelites, as he had sworn
o their fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
The Israelites covenant to give themselves to
jod, and abjure not only gross, but refined
dolatry. Take heed, " lest there should be
unong you man or woman, or family, or tribe,
whose heart turneth away this day from the

SER. LXXXV.]

WITH THE ISRAELITES.

303

Lord your God, to go and serve the gods of
these nations; lest there should be among you
a root that beareth gall and wormwood."

V. The oath of the covenant; " Thou enter-
est into the covenant and the execration by an
oath."

1. Moses required the Israelites to consider
the sanctity of the place in which the covenant
was contracted with God. It was consecrated
by the divine presence. " Ye stand this day all
of you before the Lord." Not only in the vague
sense in which we say of all our words and ac
tions, "God sees me; God hears me; all things
are naked and open to him in whose presence
I stand;" but in a sense more confined. The
Most High dwells not in human temples.
" What is the house ye build to me, and where
is the place of my rest? Behold the heaven and
the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee,
much less the house that I have built." He
chose, however, the Tabernacle for his habita
tion, and the Ark for his throne. There he de
livered his oracles; there he issued his supreme
commands. Moses assembled the Israelites, it
is presumed, near to this majestic pavilion of
the Deity, when he addressed to them the words
of my text; at least I think I can prove, from
correspondent passages of Scripture, that this is
the true acceptation of the expression, " Before
the Lord."

The Christians having more enlightened no
tions of the Divinity than the Jews, have the
less need to be apprized that God is an omni
present Being, and unconfined by local resi
dences. We have been taught by Jesus Christ,
that the true worshippers restrict not their de
votion to Mount Zion, nor Mount Gerizim;
they worship God in spirit and in truth. - But
let us be cautious, lest, under a pretence of re
moving some superstitious notions, we refine
too far. God presides in a peculiar manner in
our temples, and in a peculiar manner even
"where two or three are met together in his
name:" more especially in a house consecrated
to his glory; more especially in places in which
a whole nation come to pay their devotion.
The more august and solemn our worship, the
more is God intimately near. And what part
of the worship we render to God, can be more
august than that we have celebrated this morn
ing? In what, situation can the thought, " I am
seen and heard of God;" in what situation can
it impress our hearts if it have not impressed
them this morning?

God, in contracting this covenant with the
Israelites on Sinai, which Moses induced them
to renew in the words of my text, apprized them
that he would be found upon that holy hill.
He said to Moses, " Lo I come unto thee in a
thick cloud, that the people may hear when I
speak with thee, and believe thee for ever. Go
unto the people, and sanctify them to-day, and
to-morrow, and let them wash their clothes,
and be ready against the third day: for the third
day the Lord will come down in the sight of all
the people, upon Mount Sinai," Exod. xix. 9.
It is said expressly, that Nadab and Abihu, and
the seventy elders, should ascend the hill, and
contract the covenant with God in the name of
the whole congregation; they saw evident marks
of the Divine presence, " a paved work of sap
phire-stone, and as it were the body of heaven

in its clearness;" an emblem which God chose
perhaps, because sapphire was among the Egyp
tians an emblem of royalty; as is apparent in
the writings of those who have preserved the
hieroglyphics of that nation.

The eyes of your understanding, were not
they also enlightened this morning? God was
present at this house; he was seated here on a
throne, more luminous than the brightest sap
phire, and amid the myriads of his host. It was
before the presence of the Lord descended in
this temple as on Sinai in holiness, that we ap
peared this morning; when, by the august sym
bols of the body and blood of the Redeemer of
mankind, we came again to take the oath of
fidelity we have so often uttered, and so often
broken. It was in the presence of God that
thou didst appear, contrite heart! Penitent sin
ner! he discerned thy sorrows, he collected thy
tears, he attested thy repentance. It was in
the presence of the Lord thy God that thou
didst appear, hypocrite! He unmasked thy
countenance, he pierced the specious veils
which covered thy wretched heart. It was in
the presence of the Lord thy God that thou
didst appear, wicked man! Thou, who in the
very act of seeming to celebrate this sacrament
of love, which should have united thee to thy
brother as the soul of Jonathan was knit to Da
vid, wouldst have crushed him under thy feet.
What a motive to attention, to recollection!
What a motive to banish all vain thoughts,
which so frequently interrupt our most sacred
exercises! What a motive to exclaim, as the
patriarch Jacob, " How dreadful is this place!
This is none other than the house of God, and
this is the gate of heaven."

II. Moses required the Israelites in renewing
their covenant with God, to consider the uni
versality of the contract. "Ye stand all of you
before the Lord." The Hebrew by descent, and
the strangers; that is, the proselytes, the heads
of houses, and the hewers of wood, and drawers
of water; those who filled the most distinguished
offices, and those who performed the meanest
services in the commonwealth of Israel; the wo
men and the children; in a word, the whole
without exception of those who belonged to the
people of God. It is worthy of remark, my bre
thren, that God, on prescribing the principal
ceremonies of the law, required every soul who
refused submission to be cut off, that is, to sus
tain an awful anathema. He hereby signified,
that no one should claim the privileges of an
Israelite, without conformity to all the institu
tions he had prescribed. So persuaded were
the people of this truth, that they would have
regarded as a monster, and punished as a de
linquent, any man, whether an Israelite by
choice, or descent, who had refused conformity
to the passions, and attendance on the solemn
festivals.

Would to God that Christians entertained the
same sentiments! Would to God, that your
preachers could say, on sacramental occasions,
as Moses said to the Jews in the memorable dis
course we apply to you: " Ye stand all of you
this day before the Lord your God; the captains
of your tribes, your elders, your officers, your
wives, your little ones, from the hewer of wood
to the drawer of water." But alas! how de
fective are our assemblies on those solemn oc-

304

ON THE COVENANT OF GOD

LXXXV.

casions! But alas! where were you, temporizers,
Nicodemuses, timorous souls? Where have you
been? it is now a fortnight since you appeared
before the Lord your God, to renew your cove
nant with him. Ah! degenerate men, worthy
of the most pointed and mortifying reproof, such
as that which Deborah addressed to Reuben:
Why didst thou stay " among the sheep-folds,
to hear the bleating of the flocks," Judges v. 16.
You were with your gold, with your silver, sor
did objects, to which you pay in this nation the
homage which God peculiarly requires in cli
mates so happy. You were, perhaps, in the
temple of superstition; while we were assembled
in the house of the Most High. You were in
Egypt, preferring the garlic and onions to the
milk and honey of Canaan; while we were on
the borders of the promised land, to which God
was about to give us admission.

Poor children of those unhappy fathers!
Where were you, while we devoted our off
spring to God who gave them; while we led
those for admission to his table, who were ade
quately instructed; while we prayed for the fu
ture admission of those who are yet deprived
by reason of their tender age? Ah! you were
victims to the indifference, the cares, and ava
rice of those who gave you birth! You are as
sociated by them with those who are enemies
to the reformed name; who, unable to convince
the fathers, hope, at least, to convince the chil
dren, and to extinguish in their hearts the mi
nutest sparks of truth! O God! if thy justice
have already cut off those unworthy fathers,
spare, at least, according to thy clemency, these
unoffending creatures, who know not yet their
right hand from their left; whom they would
detach from thy communion, before they are
acquainted with its purity!

Would to God that this was all the cause of
our complaint! Oh! where were you, while we
celebrated the sacrament of the Lord's supper?
You, inhabitants of these provinces, born of re
formed families, professors of the reformation!
You, who are married, who are engaged in bu
siness, who have attained the age of forty 05.
fifty years, without ever participating of the
holy eucjj[arist! There was a time, my bre
thren, among the Jews, when a man who should
have had the assurance to neglect the rites
which constituted the essence of the law, would
have been cut off from the people. This law
has varied in regard to circumstances; but iu
essence it still subsists, and in all its force. Let
him apply this observation, to whom it pecu
liarly belongs.

III. Moses required the Israelites, in renew
ing their covenant with God, to consider what
constituted its essence: which, according to the
views of the Lawgiver, was the reciprocal en
gagement. Be attentive to this term reciprocal;
it is the soul of my definition. What consti
tutes the essence of a covenant, is the reciprocal
engagements of the contracting parties. This
is obvious from the words of my text; that thou
shouldst (stipulate or) enter. Here we distinctly
find mutual conditions; here we distinctly find
that God engaged with the Israelites to be their
God; and they engaged to be his people. We
proved, at the commencement of this discourse,
that the covenant of God with the Israelites,
was in substance the same as that contracted

with Christians. This being considered, what
idea ought we to form of those Christians (if we
may give that name to men who can entertain
such singular notions of Christianity,) who ven
tured to affirm, that the ideas of conditions, and
reciprocal engagements, are dangerous expres
sions, when applied to the evangelical covenant;
that what distinguishes the Jews from Chris
tians is, that God then promised and required;
whereas now he promises, but requires nothing.
My brethren, had I devoted my studies to com
pose a history of the eccentricities of the human
mind, I should have deemed it my duty to have
bestowed several years in reading the books, in
which those systems are contained, that I might
have marked to posterity the precise degrees to
which men are capable of carrying such odious
opinions. But having diverted them to other
pursuits, little, it is confessed, have I read of
this sort .of works: and all I know of the subject
may nearly be reduced to this, that there are
persons in these provinces who both read and
believe them.

Without attacking by a long course of causes
and consequences, a system so destructive of
itself, we will content ourselves with a single
test. Let them produce a single passage from
the Scriptures, in which God requires the ac
quisition of knowledge, and engages to bestow
it, without the least fatigue of reading, study,
and reflection. Let them produce a passage,
in which God requires us to possess certain vir
tues, and engages to communicate them, with
out enjoining us to subdue our senses, our tem
perature, our passions, our inclination, in order
that we may attain them. Let them produce
one passage from the Scriptures to prove, that
God requires us to be saved by the merits of
Jesus Christ, and engages to do it, without the
slightest sorrow for our past sins, — without the
least reparation of our crimes, — without pre
cautionary measures to avoid them, — without
the qualifying dispositions to participate the
fruits of his passions. What am I saying! Let
them produce a text which overturns the hun
dred, and the hundred more passages which we
oppose to this gross supralapsarian system, and
with which we are ever ready to confront its
advocates.

We have said, my brethren, that this system
destroys itself. Hence it was less with a view
to attack it, that we destined this article, than
to apprize some among you of having adopted
it, at the very moment you dream that you re
ject and abhor it. We often fall into the error
of the ancient Israelites; frequently forming as
erroneous notions of the covenant which God
has contracted with us, as they did of that he
had contracted with them. This people had
violated the stipulations in a manner the most
notorious in the world. God did not fulfil his
engagements with them, because they refused
to fulfil their engagements to him. He re
sumed the blessings he had so abundantly
poured upon them; and, instead of ascribing the
cause to themselves, they had the assurance to
ascribe it to him. They said, " The temple of
the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple
of the Lord," Jer. vii. 4. We are the children
of Abraham; forget not thy covenant. — And
how often have not similar sentiments been
cherished in our hearts? How often has not the

SER. LXXXV.]

WITH THE ISRAELITES.

305

same language been heard proceeding from our
lips? How often, at the moment we violate
our baptismal vows; at the moment we are so
far depraved as to falsify the oath of fidelity
we have taken in the holy sacrament; how
often, in short, does it not happen, that at the
moment we break our covenant with God, we
require him to be faithful by alleging — the
cross — the satisfaction — the blood of Jesus
Christ. Ah! wretched man! fulfil thou the
conditions to which thou hast subscribed; and
God will fulfil those he has imposed on him
self. Be thou mindful of thy engagements,
and God will not be forgetful of his. Hence,
what constitutes the essence of a covenant is,
the mutual stipulations of the contracting par
ties. This is what we engaged to prove.

IV. Moses required the Israelites to consider,
in renewing their covenant with God, the ex
tent of the engagement: " That thou shouldest
enter into covenant with the Lord thy God,
and into his oath; that he may establish thee
to-day for a people unto himself; and that he
may be unto thee a God." This engagement
of God with the Jews implies, that he would
be their God; or to comprehend the whole in
a single word, that he would procure them
a happiness correspondent to the eminence of
his perfections. Cases occur, in which the at
tributes of God are at variance with the hap
piness of men. It implies, for instance, an in
consistency with the divine perfections, not
only that the wicked should be happy, but also
that the righteous should have perfect feli
city, while their purity is incomplete. There
are miseries inseparable from our imperfections
in holiness; and, imperfections being coeval
with life, our happiness wiJI be incomplete till
after death. On the removal of this obstruc
tion, by virtue of the covenant, God having
engaged to be our God, we shall attain supreme
felicity. Hence our Saviour proved by this
argument, that Abraham should rise from the
dead, the Lord having said to Moses, " I am
the God of Abraham; God is not the God of
the dead, but of the living," Matt. xxii. 32.
This assertion, " I am the God of Abraham,"
proceeding from the mouth of the Supreme
Beiug, was equivalent to a promise of making
Abraham perfectly happy. Now he could not
be perfectly happy, so long as the body to
which nature had united him, was the victim
of corruption. Therefore, Abraham must rise
from the dead.

When God engaged with the Israelites, the
Israelites engaged with God. Their covenant
imph'es, that they should be his people; that is,
that they should obey his precepts so far as
human frailty would admit. By virtue of ttys
clause, they engaged not only to abstain from
gross idolatry, but also to eradicate the princi
ple. Keep this distinction in view: it is clearly
expressed in my text. " Ye have seen their
abominations, and their idols, wood and stone,
silver and gold." Take heed, "lest there
should be among you man or woman, or family,
or tribe, whose heart turneth away from the
Lord, to go and serve the gods of these na
tions." Here is the gross act of idolatry.
" Lest there should be among you a root that
beareth gall and wormwood." Here is the
principle. I would not enter into a critical
VOL. II.— 39

illustration of the original terms which our
versions render "gall and wormwood." They
include a metaphor taken from a man, who,
finding in his field weeds pernicious to his
grain, should crop the strongest, but neglect
ing to eradicate the plant, incurs the incon
venience he wished to avoid.

The metaphor is pertinent. In every crime
we consider both the plant and the root pro
ductive of gall and wormwood; or, if you please,
the crime itself, and the principle which pro
duced it. It is not enough to crop, we must
eradicate. It is not enough to be exempt from
crimes, we must exterminate the principle.
For example, in theft, there is both the root,
and the plant productive of wormwood and
gall. There is theft gross and refined; the act
of theft, and the principle of theft. To steal
the goods of a neighbour is the act, the gross
act of theft; but, to indulge an exorbitant
wish for the acquisition of wealth; — to make
enormous charges;— to resist the solicitations
of a creditor for payment; — to be indelicate as
to the means of gaining money; — to reject the
mortifying claims of restitution, is refined fraud;
or, if you please, the principle of fraud produc
tive of wormwood and gall. — It is the same
with regard to impurity; there is the act and
the principle. The direct violation of the
command, " thou shalt not commit adultery,"
is the gross act. But to form intimate con
nexions with persons habituated to the vice, to
read licentious novels, to sing immodest songs,
to indulge wanton airs, is that refined impurity,
that principle of the gross act, that root which
speedily produces wormwood and gall.

V. Moses lastly required the Israelites to
consider the oath and execration with which
their acceptance of the covenant was attend
ed: " that thou shouldest enter into covenant,"
and into this oath. What is meant by their
entering into the oath of execration? That
they pledged themselves by oath, to fulfil
every clause of the covenant; and in case of
violation, to subject themselves to all the curses
God had denounced against those who should
be guilty of so perfidious a crime.

And, if you would have an adequate idea of
those curses, read the awful chapter preceding
that from which we have taken our text, " If
thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of the Lord
thy God, to observe and do all his command
ments, and his statutes, which I command thee
this day, then all these curses shall come upon
the'e. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, and
cursed shalt thou be in the field; in the fruit
of thy body, in the fruit of thy land, in the in
crease of thy cattle. Cursed shalt thou be
when thou comest in, and cursed shalt thou be
when thou goest out. The Lord shall send
upon thee cursing and vexation, in all thou
settest thine hand for to do, until thou be
destroyed; because of the wickedness of thy
doings, whereby thou hast forsaken me. And
thy heaven, that is over thy head, shall be
brass; and the earth that is under thee shall
be iron. The Lord shall cause thee to be smit
ten before thine enemies, thou shalt go out
one way against them, and flee seven ways
before them; and thou shalt be removed into
all the kingdoms of the earth. And thou shalt
grope at noonday, as the blind gropeth in dark-

306

ON THE COVENANT OF GOD, &c.

LXXXV.

ness. Thy sons and thy daughters shall be
given unto another people. Thine eyes shall
see it; because thou servedst not the Lord thy
God with joyfulness, and gladness of heart,
for the abundance of alf things. Therefore
thou shall serve thine enemies which the Lord
shall send against thee, in hunger, nakedness,
and want. The Lord shall bring against thee
a nation swift as the eagle; a nation of fierce
countenance. He shall besiege thee in all thy
gates, until thy high and fenced walls come
down, wherein thou trustedst. And thou shalt
eat the fruit of thy own body, the flesh of thy
sons and thy daughters, in the siege, and in
the straitness. So that the man that is tender
among you, and very delicate, his eye shall be
evil towards his brother, and towards the wife
of his bosom; so that he will not give to any of
them of the flesh of his children whom he shall
eat," Deut. xxviii. 15, &c.

These are but part of the execrations which
the infractors of the covenant were to draw
upon themselves. And to convince them that
they must determine, either not to contract the
covenant, or subject themselves to all its exe
crations, God caused it to be ratified by the
awful ceremony, which is recorded in the
chapter immediately preceding the quotations
I have made. He commanded one part of the
Levites to ascend Mount Ebal, and pronounce
the curses, and all the people to say, Amen.
By virtue of this command, the Levites said,
" Cursed be he that setteth light by his father
or his mother; and all the people said, Arnen.
Cursed be he that perverteth the judgment of
the stranger, the fatherless, and widow; and
all the people said, Amen. Cursed be he
that srniteth his neighbour secretly; and all the
people said, Arnen. Cursed be he that con-
firmeth not all the words of this law to do
them; and all the people said, Amen;" Deut.
xxvii. 17 — 26.

The words which we render, " that thou
shouldest enter into covenant," have a peculiar
energy in the original, and signify, " that thou
shouldest pass into covenant." The interpre
ters of whom I speak, think they refer to a
ceremony formerly practised, in contracting
covenants, of which we have spoken on other
occasions.

On immolating the victims, they divided the
flesh into two parts, placing the one opposite
to the other. The contracting parties passed
in the open space between the two, thereby
testifying their consent to be slaughtered 'as
those victims, if they did not religiously con
firm the covenant contracted in so mysterious
a manner.

The sacred writings afford examples of this
custom. In the fifteenth chapter of Genesis,
Abraham, by the divine command, took a
heifer of three years old, and a ram of the same
age, and dividing them in the midst, he placed
the parts opposite to each other: " and behold, a
smoking furnace, and a burning lamp passed
between those pieces." This was a symbol
that the Lord entered into an engagement with
the patriarch, according to the existing custom:
hence it is said, that " the Lord made a cove
nant with Abraham."

In the thirty-fourth chapter of the prophe
cies of Jeremiah, we find a correspondent pas

sage. " I will give the men that have trans
gressed my covenant, which have not perform
ed the words of the covenant, that they made
before me, when they cut the calf in twain,
and passed between the parts, the princes of
Judah, — I will even give them into the hands
of their enemies." If we do not find the whole
of these ceremonies observed, when God con
tracted the covenant on Sinai, we should mark
what occurs in the twenty-fourth chapter of
Exodus; " Moses sent the young men of the
children of Israel, which offered burnt-offer
ings, and sacrificed peace-offerings of oxen
unto the Lord. And Moses took half of the
blood, and put it in basins: and half of the
blood he sprinkled on the altar; and the other
half he sprinkled on the people, and said, Be
hold the blood of the covenant which the Lord
hath made with you. And he took the book
of the covenant, and read in the audience of
the people: and they said, all that the Lord
hath said, will we do, and be obedient. What
is the import of this ceremony, if it is not the
same which is expressed in my text, that the
Israelites, in contracting the covenant with
God, enter into the execration oath; subjecting
themselves, if ever they should presume de
liberately to violate the stipulations, to be
treated as the victims immolated on Sinai,
and as those which Moses probably offered,
when it was renewed, on the confines of Pa
lestine.

Perhaps one of my hearers may say to him
self, that the terrific circumstances of this cere
mony regarded the Israelites alone, whom God
addressed in lightnings and thunders from the
top of Sinai. What! was there then no victim
immolated, when God contracted his covenant
with us? Does not St. Paul expressly say,
that " without the shedding of blood, there is
no remission of sins?" Heb, ix. 22. And what
were the lightnings, what were the thunders
of Sinai? What were all the execrations, and
all the curses of the law? They were the just
punishments every sinner shall suffer, who ne
glects an entrance into favour with God. Now,
these lightnings, these thunders, these execra
tions, these curses, did they not all unite against
the slaughtered victim, when God contracted
his covenant with us; — I would say, against
the head of Jesus Christ? O my God! what
revolting sentiments did not such complicated
calamities excite in the soul of the Saviour!
The idea alone, when presented to his mind,
a little before his death, constrained him to
say, " Now is my soul troubled," John xii. 17.
And on approaching the hour; " My soul is
exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death. O
my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass
from me," Matt. xxvi. 38, 39. And on the
cross; " My God, my God, why hast thou for
saken me!" Matt, xxvii. 46. — Sinner! here is
the victim immolated on contracting thy cove
nant with God! Here are the sufferings thou
didst subject thyself to endure, if ever thou
shouldest perfidiously violate it! Thou hast
entered, thou hast passed into covenant, and
into the oath of execration which God has re
quired.

APPLICATION.

My brethren, no man should presume to dis-

SER. LXXXVI.1

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT

307

guise the nature of his engagements, and th
high characters of the gospel. Because, o:
the solemn festival-day, when we appear in th
presence of the Lord our God; — when we en
ter into covenant with him; and after the en
gagement, when we come to ratify it in th<
.loly sacrament; — we not only enter, but w<
also pass into covenant, according to the idee
attached to the term: we pass between the
parts of the victim divided in sacrifice; we
pass between the body and blood of Christ, di
vided from each other to represent the Sa
viour's death. We then say, " Lord! I consent
if I should violate the stipulations of thy cove
nant, and if after the violation, I do not re
cover by repentance, I consent, that thou
snouldst treat me as thou hast treated thy own
Son, in the garden of Gethsemane, and on
Calvary. Lord! I consent that thou shouldst
shoot at me all the thunderbolts and arrows
which were shot against him. I agree, that
thou shouldst unite against me all the calami
ties which were united against him. And, as
it implies a contradiction, that so weak a mor
tal as I should sustain so tremendous a punish
ment, I agree, that the duration of my pun
ishment should compensate for the defects of
its degree; that I should suffer eternally in the
abyss of hell, the punishments I could not
have borne in the limited duration of time."

Do not take this proposition for a hyberbole,
or a rhetorical figure. To enter into covenant
with God, is to accept the gospel precisely as
it was delivered by Jesus Christ, and to submit
to all its stipulations. This gospel expressly
declares, that " fornicators, that liars, that
drunkards, and the covetous, shall not inherit
the kingdom of God." On accepting the gos
pel, we accept this clause. Therefore, on ac
cepting the gospel, we submit to be excluded
the kingdom of God, if we are either drunk
ards, or" liars, or covetous, or fornicators; and
if after the commission of any of these crimes,
we do not recover by repentance. And what
is submission to this clause, if it is not to enter
into the execration oath, which God requires
of us, on the ratification of this covenant?

Ah! my brethren, wo unto us should we
pronounce against ourselves so dreadful an
oath, without taking the precautions suggest
ed by the gospel to avert these awful conse
quences. Ah! my brethren, if we are not sin
cerely resolved to be faithful to God, let us
make a solemn vow before we leave this tem
ple, never to communicate, never to approach
the Lord's table.

What! never approach his table! never com
municate! Disdain not to enter into the cove
nant which God does not disdain to make with
sinners! What a decision! Great God, what
an awful decision! And should this be the ef
fect of my discourse! Alas! my brethren, with
out this covenant, without this table, without
this oath, we are utterly lost! It is true, we
shall not be punished as violators of vows we
never made: but we shall be punished as mad
men; who, being actually in the abyss of per
dition, reject the Redeemer, whose hand is ex
tended to draw us thence. Let us seek that
hand, let us enter into this covenant with God.
The engagements, without which the cove
nant cannot be confirmed, have, I grant, some

thing awfully solfcam. The oath, the oath of
execration which God tenders, is, I farther al
low, very intimidating. But what constitutes
the fear, constitutes also the delight and conso
lation. For what end does God require these
engagements? For what end does he require
this oath? Because it is his good pleasure, that
we should unite ourselves to him in the same
close, constant, and indissoluble manner as he
unites himself to us.

Let us be sincere, and he will give us power
to be faithful. Let us ask his aid, and he wil
not withhold the grace destined to lead us to
this noble end. Let us say to him, "Lord, I
do enter into this oath of execration; but I do
it with trembling. Establish my wavering soul;
confirm my feeble knees; give me the victory;
make me more than conqueror in all the con
flicts, by which the enemy of my salvation
comes to separate me from thee. Pardon all
the faults into which 1 may be drawn by hu
man frailty. Grant, if they should suspend
the sentiments of fidelity I vow to thee, that
they may never be able to eradicate them."
These are the prayers which God loves, these
are the prayers which he hears. May he grant
us to experience them! Amen.

SERMON LXXXVI.

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

(For the day of Pentecost.)

2 COR. i. 21,22.
r~ie which establisheth us ivith you in Christ, and
hath anointed us, is God; who hath also sealed
us, and given us the earnest of the Spirit in
our hearts.

How distinguished soever this sabbath may
e, it affords a humiliating consideration to us.
low glorious soever the event might be to the
hurch, whose anniversary we now celebrate,
; cannot be recollected, without deploring the
inference between what God once achieved
or his saints, and what he is doing at the pre-
ent period. In the first Pentecost, the heavens
isibly opened to the brethren; but we, we alas!
re unable to pierce the vaults of this church.
The Holy Spirit then miraculously descended
with inspiration on those holy men, who were
designated to carry the light of the gospel
throughout the world; but now, it is solely by
the efforts of meditation and study, that your
preachers communicate knowledge and exhor
tation. The earth shook; the most abstruse
mysteries were explained; languages the least
intelligible became instantaneously familiar;
the sick were healed; the dead were raised to
life; Ananias and Sapphira expired at the
apostles' feet; and such a multitude of prodi
gies were then achieved, in order to give weight
to the ministry of the first preachers of the gos
pel, that no one among us can be unacquainted
with those extraordinary events. But good
wishes, prayers, entreaties, are all we can now
exert to insinuate into your hearts, and con
ciliate your attention.

What then! is the Holy Spirit, who once de
scended with so much lustre on the primitive

308

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

[SER. LXXXVI,

Christians, refused to us? What then! shall we
nave no participation in the glory of that day?
shall we talk of the prodigies seen by the in
fant church, solely to excite regret at the dark
ness of the dispensation, in which it has pleas
ed God to give us birth? Away with the
thought! The change is only in the exterior
aspect, not in the basis and substance of Chris
tianity; whatever essential endowments the
holy spirit once communicated to the primitive
Christians, he now communicates to us. Hear
the words we have read, " He which stablish-
eth you with us, in Christ, and hath anointed
us, is God; who hath also sealed us, and given
us the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts." On
these operations of the Holy Spirit in the
heart, we now purpose to treat, and on which
we shall make three kinds of observations.

I. It is designed to develope the manner in
which this operation is expressed in the words
of my text.

II. To explain its nature, and prove its
reality.

III. To trace the disposition of the man
who retards, and the man who farthers the ope
rations of the Holy Spirit.

This comprises the outlines of our discourse.

I. We shall easily comprehend the manner
in which St. Paul expresses the operation of
the Holy Spirit, if we follow the subsequent
rules.

1. Let us reduce the metaphor to its genu
ine import. St. Paul wishes to prove the truth
and certainty of the promises, God had given
the church by his ministry; "All the promises
of God in him are yea, and in him amen," 2
Cor. i. 20. These are Hebrew modes of speech.
The Jews, in order to designate deceitful
speeches, say, that there are men with whom
yea is nay, and nay is yea; on the contrary, the
yea of a good man is yea, and nay, is nay.
Hence the maxim of a celebrated Rabbi, "Let
the disciples of the wise, give and receive
in fidelity and truth, saying, yea, yea; nay,
nay." And it was in allusion to this mode of
speech, that our Saviour said to his disciples,
" Let your yea be yea, and your nay be nay;
whatsoever is more than these comethof evil,"
Matt. v. 37.

St. Paul, to prove that the promises God
has given us in his word, are yea and amen;
that is, sure and certain, says, he has estab
lished them in a threefold manner: by the
anointing, the seal, and the earnests. These
several terms express the same idea, and mark
the diversified operations of the Holy Spirit,
for the confirmation of the Evangelical pro
mises. However, if another will assert, that
we are to understand different operations by
these three terms, I will not controvert his
opinion. By the unction, we may here under
stand, the miraculous endowments afforded to
the apostles, and to a vast number of the pri
mitive Christians, and the inferences enlight
ened men would consequently draw in favour
of Christianity. It is a metaphor taken from
the oil poured by the special command of God,
on the head of persons selected for grand
achievements, and particularly on the head of
kings and priests. It implied that God had
designated those men for distinguished offices,
and communicated to them the necessary en

dowments for the adequate discharge of their
duty. Under this idea, St. John represents the
gift of the Holy Spirit, granted to the whole
church: " Ye have an unction from the Holy
One, and ye know all things," 1 John, ii. 20.
By the seal, of which the apostle here says,
" God hath sealed us," the sacraments may be
understood. The metaphor is derived from
the usages of society in affixing seals to cove
nants and treaties. Under this design are the
sacraments represented in the Scriptures. The
term is found applied to those exterior institu
tions in the fourth chapter of St. Paul's epis
tle to the Romans. It is there said that
Abraham received the sign of circumcision,
as a seal of the righteousness of faith. By the
nstitution of this sign, to Abraham and his
posterity, God distinguished the Jews from
every nation of the earth; marked them as his
own, and blessed them with the fruits of evan
gelical justification. This is the true import,
provided the interior grace be associated with
the exterior sign; I would say, sanctification,
or the image of God; purity being inculcated
on us in the Scriptures by the symbol of a seal.
This, in our opinion, is the import of that fine
passage, so distorted by the schoolmen; " The
foundation of God standeth sure, having this
seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his: let
every one that nameth," (or invoketh) " the
name of Christ depart from iniquity," 2 Tim.
ii. 19. What is God's seal? How does God
know his own?" Is it by the exterior badges
of sacraments? Is it by "the circumcision
which is in the flesh?" No, it is by this more
hallowed test, "Let every one that nameth
the name of Christ depart from iniquity."

In fine, by the EARNESTS of the Spirit, we
understand those foretastes of heaven which
God communicates to some of those he has
designated to celestial happiness. An earnest
(or earnests as in the Greek,) is a deposit of
part of the purchase money for a bargain. St.
Paul says, and in the sense attached to the
term, " We that are in this tabernacle do
groan, being burthened: not that we would be
unclothed, but clothed, that mortality might
be swallowed up of life. Now he that hath
wrought us for the self-same thing is God; who
also hath given unto us the earnest of the
Spirit," 2 Cor. v. 4, 5.

Whether, therefore, each of these terms,
unction, seal, earnest, express the same thing;
as I think could be proved, by several texts
of Scripture, in which they are promiscuously
used; — or whether they convey three distinct
ideas; — they all indicate that God confirms to
us the evangelical promises in the way we have
described.

This is the idea, my brethren, one should
attach to the metaphors in our text. In order
to comprehend the Scriptures, you should al
ways recollect that they abound with these
forms of speech. The sacred writers lived in a
warm climate; whose inhabitants had a natural
vivacity of imagination, very different from us
who reside in a colder region, and under a
cloudy sky; who have consequently a peculiar
gravity, and dulness of temperature. Seldom,
therefore, did the men of whom we have been
speaking, employ the simple style. They bor
rowed bold figuresj they magnified objects;

SER. LXXXVL]

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

309

they delighted in amplitude and hyperbole.
The Holy Spirit, employing the pen of the
sacred authors, did not change, but sanctify
their temperature. It was his pleasure that
they should speak in the language used in their
own time; and avail themselves of those forms
of speech, without which they would neither
have been heard nor understood.

2. Let us reduce the metaphor to precision,
and the figure to truth. But under a notion
of reducing it to truth, let us not enfeeble its
force; and wishful to reject imaginary mys
teries, let us not destroy those which are real.
This second caution is requisite in order to
supersede the false glosses which have been
attached to the text. Two of these we ought
particularly to reject; — the one on the word
Spirit; — the other on the words, seal, unction
and earnest, which we have endeavoured to
explain.

Some divines have asserted, that the word
Spirit, ought to be arranged in the class of
metaphors designed to express, not a person
of the Godhead, but an action of Providence;
and tha^ we should attach this sense to the
term, not only in this text, but also in all those
we adduce to prove, that there is a divine per
son distinct from the Father and the Son, call
ed the Holy Spirit

We have frequently, in this pulpit, avowed
our ignorance concerning the nature of the
divine essence, if I may be allowed the expres
sion. We have often declared, that we can
determine nothing concerning God, except
what we are obliged to know from the works
he has created, and from the truths he has re
vealed. We have more than once acknow
ledged, that even those truths, which we trace
from reason and revelation, are as yet very
imperfect; and that the design of the Scrip
tures, when speaking of God, is less to reveal
what he is, than the relation in which he
stands to us. Hence I conceive, that the ut
most moderation, and deference of judgment;
and, if I may so speak, the utmost pyrrhon-
ism, on this subject, is all that reasonable
men can expect, from the philosopher and the
divine.

When we find in the Scriptures, certain
ideas of the Divinity; — ideas, which have not
the slightest dissonance to those afforded by
his works; ideas, moreover, clearly expressed
and repeated in a variety of places, we admit
them without hesitation, and condemn those,
who, by a false notion concerning propriety
of thought, and precision of argument, refuse
their assent. Now, it seems to me, that they
fall into this mistake who refuse to acknow
ledge, in the texts we adduce, a declaration of
a Divine Person.

I shall cite one single passage only from the
sixteenth chapter of the gospel by St. John;
" When he, the Spirit of truth is come, he
will guide you into all truth; for he shall not
speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall
hear, that shall he speak: and he will show
you things to come. He shall glorify me; for
he shall receive of mine, and show it unto
you." I challenge here, this propriety of
thought, and precision of argument, of which
the persons we attack make a profession, I had
almost said a parade, to say whether these can

obstruct the perception of three persons in the
words we have read? Can they obstruct our
perceiving the Father, to whom all things be
long; the Son, who participates in all things
which belong to the Father: the Holy Spirit,
who receives and reveals those things to the
church? I ask again, whether by this proprie
ty of thought, and precision of argument, we
can understand an action of Providence, from
what is ascribed to the Holy Spirit? And whe
ther, without offering violence to the laws of
language, one may substitute for the term
spirit, the words action and Providence, and
thus paraphrase the whole passage; " I have
yet many things to say unto you, but ye can
not bear them now. Howbeit, when this ac
tion of Providence is come, even this action
of Providence, it will guide you into all the
truth; for it shall not speak of itself; but
whatsoever it shall hear, that shall it speak;
for it shall receive of mine, and shall show
them unto you." We frankly confess, my
brethren, nothing but the reluctance we have
to submit our notions to the decision of Su
preme Wisdom can excite an apprehension,
that a distinct person is not designated in the
words we have cited. And, when it is onco
admitted, that the Holy Spirit sent to the
church is a divine person, can one, on compar
ing the words of our text with those we have
quoted, resist the conviction, that the same
Spirit is intended in both these passages?

In the class of those, who, under a pretext
of not admitting imaginary mysteries, reject
such as are real, we arrange those divines,
who deny the agency of this adorable person
on the heart, in what the apostle calls, unction,
seal, and earnest: those supralapsarian teach
ers, who suppose, that all the operation of the
Holy Spirit on the regenerate, consists in en
abling him to preach; that he does not afford
them the slightest interior aid, to surmount
those difficulties which naturally obstruct a
compliance with the grand design of preach
ing. The Scriptures assert, in so many places,
the inefficacy of preaching without those aids,
that no doubt can, in my opinion, be admissi
ble upon the subject. But, if some divines
have degraded this branch of Christian the
ology, by an incautious defence, to them the
blame attaches, and not to those who have
established it upon solid proof. Those divines,
who, by a mode of teaching much more cal
culated to confound, than defend, orthodox
opinions, have spoken of the unction of the
Spirit, as though it annihilated the powers of
nature, and as though they made a jest; — yes,
a jest, of the exhortations, promises, and threat-
enings addressed to us in the Scriptures: —
Those divines, if there are such, shall give an
account to God for the discord they have oc
casioned in the church, and even for the here
sies to which their mode of expounding the
Scriptures has given birth.

You, however, brethren, embrace no doc
trines but those explicitly revealed in the
Scriptures; — you, who admit the agency of the
Holy Spirit on the heart, unsolicitous to define
ts nature. You, who say with Jesus Christ,
' the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou
tiearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell
whence it cometh, and whither it goeth," John

310

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

[SER. LXXXVI.

ni. 8. You, who especially admit, that the
more conscious we are of the want of grace,
the more we should exert our natural gifts;
that, the more need we have of interior aids,
the more we should profit by exterior assist
ance, by the books we have at hand, by the
favourable circumstances in which we may be
providentially placed, by the ministry which
God has graciously established among us!
Fear not to follow those faithful guides, and
to adopt precautions so wise; under a pretext
of reducing metaphors to precision, never en
feeble their force; and, under a plea of not ad
mitting imaginary mysteries, never reject the
real. This was our second rule.

And here is the third. In addresses to so
ciety in general, what belongs to each should
be distinguished. St. Paul here addressed the
whole church: but the whole of its numerous
members could not have been in the same
situation. Hence, one of the greatest faults
we commit in expounding the Scriptures, and
especially in expounding texts which treat of
the agency of the Spirit, is, the neglecting to
distinguish what we had designed. This is one
cause of the little fruit produced by sermons.
We address a church, whose religious attain
ments are very unequal. Some are scarcely
initiated into knowledge and virtue; others ap
proach perfection; and some hold a middle
rank between the two. We address to this
congregation certain general discourses, which
cannot apply with equal force to all; it belongs
to each of our hearers, to examine how far
each argument has reference to his own case.

Apply now to the words of our text the
general maxim we have laid down; you will
recollect the ideas we have attached to the
terms used by the apostle, to express the
agency of the Holy Spirit on the heart. We
have said that these terms, unctwn, seal, ear
nest, excite three ideas. And we can never
understand those Scriptures, which speak of
the operations of the Holy Spirit, unless those
three effects of the divine agency are distin
guished. Every Christian has not been confirm
ed by the Spirit of God in all those various!
ways. All have not received the threefold
unction, the threefold seal, the threefold ear
nest. To some the Holy Spirit has confirmed
the first, availing himself of their ministry for
the achievement of miracles, or by causing
them to feel that a religion, in favour of which
so many prodigies . have been achieved, could
not be false. To others, the second confirma
tion was added to the first; at the moment he
carried conviction to the mind, he sanctified
the heart. With regard to others, he com
municated more; not only persuading them
that a religion, which promises celestial feli
city, is true; not only enabling them to conform
to the conditions on which this felicity is pro
mised, but he also gives them foretastes here
below.

II. and HI. I could better explain my sen
timents, did I dare engage, in discussing the
second part of my subject, to illustrate the na
ture, and prove the reality of the Spirit's
agency on the heart. But how can I attempt
the discussion of so vast a subject in one dis
course, when so many considerations restrict

me to brevity? We shall, therefore, speak of
the nature and reality of the Spirit's agency
on the heart, so far only as is necessary to
furnish matter for our third head, on which we
are now entering; and which is designed to
trace the dispositions that favour, and such as
retard, the operations of the Spirit: a most
important discussion, which will develop the
causes of the anniversary of Pentecost being
unavailing in the church, and point out the
dispositions for its worthy celebration.

What we shall advance on this subject, is
founded on a maxim, to which I solicit your
peculiar attention; namely, that every motion
of the Spirit on the heart of good men, requires
correspondent co-operation; without which his
agency would be unavailing. The refusal to
co-operate is called in Scripture, " quenching —

trieving — resisting — and doing despite to the
pint." Now, according to the style of St.
Paul, this quenching — grieving — resisting —
and doing despite to the Holy Spirit, is to ren
der his operation unavailing.

Adequately to comprehend this maxim, and
at the same time to avoid a mistaken theology,
and a corrupt morality, concerning the agency
of the Spirit, make the following reflection:
that the Holy Spirit may perhaps be consider
ed in one of these three respects; either as the
omnipotent God; or as a wise lawgiver: or as
a wise lawgiver and the omnipotent God, in
the same character. Hence the man on whom
he works, may perhaps be considered, either,
as a physical, or a moral being; or as a being
in whom both these qualities associate. To
consider the Holy Spirit in the work of regen
eration as the omnipotent God, and the man
for whose conversion he exerts his agency, as
a being purely physical: and to affirm that the
Holy Spirit acts solely by irresistible influence,
man being simply passive, is, in our opinion, a
morality extremely corrupt. To consider the
Holy Spirit simply as a lawgiver, and man
merely as a moral being, capable of vice and
virtue; and to affirm, that the Holy Spirit only
proposes his precepts, and that man obeys
them, unassisted by the divine energy attend
ant on their promulgation, is to propagate a
theology equally erroneous. But, to consider
the Holy Spirit as the omnipotent God, and
legislator in the same character, and man as
a being both moral and physical, is to harmon
ize the laws moral and divine, and to avoid, on
a subject so exceedingly controverted, the two
equally dangerous rocks, against which so
many divines have cast themselves away.

The adoption of this last system (which is
here the wisest choice,) implies an acknow
ledgment, that there are dispositions in man
which retard, and dispositions which cherish,
the successful agency of God on the heart.
What are these? They regard the three ways,
in which we said the Holy Spirit confirms to
the soul the promises of " immortality and
life." These he confirms, first, by the persua
sion he affords, concerning the truth of the
gospel; causing it to spring up in the heart on
review of the miracles performed by the first
Christians. Secondly, he confirms them by
the inward work of sanctification. Thirdly,
he confirms them by foretastes of celestial de-

SER. LXXXVI.]

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

311

light, communicated to some Christians, even
here below. Each of these points we shal
resume in its order.

First, the gift of miracles was a seal, which
God affixed to the ministry of the first heralds
of the gospel. Miracles are called seals: such
is the import of those distinguished words of
Christ; " Labour not for the meat that perish-
eth; but for that meat which endureth unto
eternal life, which the Son of man shall give
unto you, for him hath the Father sealed,'
John vi. 27. The seal which distinguished Je
sus Christ, was the gift of miracles he had re
ceived of God, to demonstrate the divine au
thority of his mission: so he himself affirmed
to the multitudes; " The works which the Fa
ther hath given me to finish, the same works
that I do, bear witness that the Father hath
sent me," John v. 36.

The inference, with regard to the Lord, is
of equal force with regard to the disciples.
The miraculous endowments, granted to them,
sanctioned their mission; as the mission of the
Master was sanctioned by the miraculous pow
ers with which it was accompanied. What
seal more august could have been affixed to it?
What demonstrations more conclusive can we
ask of a religion which announces them to us,
than all these miracles which God performed
for its confirmation? Could the Deity have
communicated his omnipotence to impostors?
Could he even have wished to lead mankind
into mistake? Could he have allowed heaven
and earth, the sea and land to be shaken for
the sanction of lies?

As there are dispositions which retard the
agency of the Spirit, who comes to impress
the heart with truth, so there are others which
favour and cherish his work. With regard to
those which retard, 1 would not only include
infidelity of heart, whose principle is malice;
I would not only include here those eccentric
men, who resist the most palpable proofs, and
evident demonstrations, and think they have
answered every argument by saying, "It is
not true. I doubt, I deny." — Men that seem
to have made a model of the Pharisees, who,
when unable to deny the miracles of Christ,
and to elude their force, ascribed them to the
devil. This is a fault so notorious, as to su
persede the necessity of argument. But I
would also convince you Christians, that the
neglect of studying the history of the miracles
we celebrate to-day, is an awful source of sub
version to the agency we are discussing. Cor
respond, by serious attention and profound re
collection, to the efforts of the Holy Spirit in
demonstrating the truth of your religion. On
festivals of this kind, a Christian should recol
lect and digest, if I may so speak, the distin
guished proofs which God gave of the truth
of Christianity on the day whose anniversary
we now celebrate. He should say to himself:
" I wish to know, whether advantage be taken
of my simplicity, or whether I am addressed
as a rational being; when I am told, that the
first heralds of the gospel performed the mi
racles, attributed to their agency."

" I wisli to know, whether the miracles of
the apostles have been narrated, (Acts ii.) and
inquire whether those holy men have named
the place, the time, the witnesses, and circum

stances of the miracles: whether it be true that
those miracles were performed in the most
public places, amid the greatest concourses of
people, in presence of Persians, of Medes, of
Parthians, of Elamites, of dwellers in Mesopo
tamia, in Judea, in Cappadocia, in Lybia;
among Cretes, Arabs, and Jews.

" I wish to know, in what way these mira
cles were foretold; whether it be true, that
these were the characteristics of evangelical
preachers, which the prophets had traced so
many ages before the evangelical period; and
whether we may not give another interpreta
tion to these distinguished predictions: ' Yet
once, it is a little while, and I will shake the
heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the
dry land. And I will shake all nations, and
the desire of all nations shall come,' Hag. ii.
5, 6. I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh;
and your sons and your daughters shall pro
phecy. Your old men shall dream dreams,
your young men shall see visions. And I will
show wonders in the heavens and in the earth,
blood, fire, and pillars of smoke," Joel ii.
28—30.

" I wish to know, how these miracles were
received; whether it be true, that the multi
tudes, the myriads of proselytes, who had it
in their power to investigate the authenticity
of the facts, sacrificed their ease, their reputa
tion, their fortune, their life, and every com
fort which martyrs and confessors have been
accustomed to sacrifice: I wish to know, whe
ther the primitive Christians made these sacri
fices on embracing a religion chiefly founded
on a belief of miracles.

" I wish to know, in what way these mira
cles were opposed; whether it be true, that
there is this distinguished difference between
the way in which these facts were attacked in
the first centuries, and in the present. Whe
ther it be true, that instead of saying, as our
infidels assert, that these facts were fabulous,
the Celsuses, the Porphyrys, the Zosimuses,
who lived in the ages in which these facts were
recent, took other methods to evade their
force; attributing them to the powers of magic,
or confounding them with other pretended mi
racles."

This is the study to which we should pro
ceed; wo be to us if we regard it as a tedious
task, and excuse ourselves on inconsiderable
pretexts! Is there any thing on earth which
should interest us more than those important
,ruths, announced by the apostles; and espe
cially those magnificent promises they have de-
ivered in the name of God? Mortal as we all
are, merely appearing on the stage of life,,
most of us having already run the greater part
of our course, called every moment to enter
nto the invisible world, destined there to de
struction, or eternal existence, is there a ques-
ion more interesting than this? "Is it for
destruction, or eternal existence, I am designa-
ed by my Maker? Are the notions I entertain
>f immortality; of pleasures for evermore at
jrod's right hand; fulness of joy around his
hrone; of intimate intercourse with the ado-
able Being; of society with angels, with arch
angels, with cherubim and seraphim; for ages,
millions of ages, an eternity with the blessed
jrod, are the notions I entertain, realities, or

312

THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT.

[SER. LXXXVI.

chimeras?" No, my brethren, neither in a coun
cil of war, nor legislative assembly, nor philo
sophical society, never were questions more im
portant discussed. A rational man should
have nothing more at heart than their eluci
dation. Nothing whatever should afford him
greater satisfaction, than when engaged in re
searches of this nature, in which he discovers
some additional evidence of immortality; and
when he finds stated with superior arguments,
the demonstrations we have of the Holy Spi
rit's descent upon the apostles, the anniversary
of which we now celebrate.

2. If there are dispositions which retard,
and cherish, the first agency of the Holy Spirit
on the heart, there are also dispositions which
retard and cherish the second. The Holy
Spirit, we have said in the second place, con
firms to us the promises of the gospel, by com
municating the grace of sanctification. What
success can be expected from his gracious ef
forts to purify the heart, while you oppose the
works? Why have those gracious efforts hither
to produced, with regard to most of you, so
little effect? Because you still oppose. Desi
rous to make you conscious of the worth of
holiness, the Holy Spirit addresses you for that
purpose in the most pointed sermons. In pro
portion as the preacher addresses the ear, the
Holy Spirit inwardly addresses the ' heart,
alarming it by that declaration, " The unclean
shall not inherit the kingdom of God," 1 Cor.
vi. 10. But you have opposed his gracious
work; you have abandoned the heart to irregu
lar affection; you have pursued objects calcu
lated to inflame concupiscence, or enkindle it
with additional vigour.

The Holy Spirit, desirous to humble the
heart, exhibits the most mortifying portraits of
your weakness, your ignorance, your dissipa
tion, your indigence, your mortality and cor
ruption, — a train of humiliating considerations
in which your own character may be recognis
ed. But you have opposed his work; you have
swelled your mind with every idea calculated
to give plausibility to the sophisms of vanity;
you have flattered yourselves with your birth,
your titles, your dignities, your affected litera
ture, and imaginary virtues. Improve this
thought, my brethren, confess your follies;
yield to the operations of grace, which would
reclaim you from the sins of the age, and
make you partakers of the divine purity, in or
der to a participation of the divine felicity.
Practise those virtues which the apostles so
strongly enforced in their sermons, which they
so highly exemplified in their lives, and so
powerfully pressed in their writings.

Above all, my brethren, let us follow the
emotions of that virtue which is the true test,
by which the Lord knows his own people, I
mean charity: such are the words of Christ,
which we cannot too attentively regard; " This
is my commandment that ye love one another,"
John xv. 12. When I speak of charity, I would
not only prompt you to share your superfluities
with the indigent, and to do good offices for
your neighbours. But a man, who, when cele
brating the anniversary of a day in which God's
love was so abundantly shed upon the church,
in which the Christians became united by ties
BO tender, feels reluctance to afford these slight

marks of the love we describe; — a man who,
rapt up in his own sufficiency, and in the ideas
he forms of his own grandeur, sees nothing
worthy of himself in the religion God has pre
scribed, would, however, converse with his
Maker, and receive his benefits, but .who shuts
his door against his neighbours, abandons them
in their poverty, trouble, and obscurity; — such
a man, far from being a Christian, has not even
a notion of Christianity. At the moment he
congratulates himself with being distinguished
from the rest of mankind by the seal of God,
he has only the seal of the devil, — inflexibility
and pride.

On these days I would, my brethren, require
concerning charity, marks more noble, and
tests more infallible, than alms and good offices:
I would animate you with the laudable ambi
tion of carrying charity as far as it was carried
by Jesus Christ. To express myself in the lan
guage of Scripture, I would animate you to
love your neighbour as Jesus Christ has loved
you. In what way has Jesus Christ loved you?
What was the grand object of his love to man?
It was salvation. So also should the salvation
of your neighbours be the object of your love.
Be penetrated with the wretchedness of people
"without hope, without God in the world,"
Eph. ii. 12. Avail yourselves of the prosperity
of your navigation and commerce, to send the
gospel into districts, where creatures made in
the image of God, know not him that made
them, but live in the grossest darkness of the
pagan world.

Be likewise impressed with the wretchedness
of those, who, amid the light of the gospel,
have their eyes so veiled as to exclude its lus
tre. Employ for the great work of reformation,
not gibbets and tortures, not fire and fagot, but
persuasion, instruction, and every means best
calculated for causing the truth to be known
and esteemed.

Be touched with the miseries of people edu
cated in our own communion, and who believe
what we believe; but who through the fear of
man, through worldly-mindedness, and aston
ishing hardness of heart, are obstructed from
following the light. Address to them the clo
sest exhortations. Offer them a participation
of your abundance. Endeavour to move them-
towards the interests of their children. Pray
for them; pray for the peace of Jerusalem;
pray that God would raise the ruins of our
temples: that he would gather the many scat
tered flocks; pray him to reinvigorate the Chris
tian blood in these veins, which seems destitute
of heat and circulation. Pray him, my fellow-
countrymen, that he would have pity on your
country, in which one prejudice succeeds an
other. Be afflicted with the affliction of Jo
seph, be mindful of your native land.

3. We have said lastly, that the Holy Spirit
confirms the promise of celestial felicity, by a
communication of its foretastes here below to
highly-favoured souls. On this subject, I seem
suspended between the fear of giving counte
nance to enthusiasm, and of suppressing one of
the most consolatory truths of the Christian re
ligion. It is, however, a fact, that there are
highly-favoured souls, to whom the Holy Spirit
confirms the promises of celestial happiness, by
a communication of its foretastes here on earth.

SER. LXXXVIL]

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

313

By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean
the impression made on the mind of a Chris
tian, of the sincerest piety, by this consolatory
thought; " My soul is immortal: death, which
seems to terminate, only changes the mode of
my existence: my body also shall participate
of eternal life; the dust shall be reanimated,
and its scattered particles collected into a glo
rious form."

By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean,
the unshaken confidence a Christian feels, even
when assailed with doubts, — when oppressed
with deep affliction, and surrounded with the
veil of death, which conceals the objects of his
hope: this assurance enables him to say, " I
know in whom I have believed, and I am per
suaded he is able to keep that which I have
.committed unto him against that day," 2 Tim.
i. 12. "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
that he shall stand at the latter day upon the
earth. And though after my skin worms de
stroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see
God," Job xix. 25, 26. "O God, though
thou slay me, yet will I trust in thee. Though
I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil," Ps. xxii. 4. " I
have set the Lord always before me; because
he is on my right hand, I shall not be moved,"
Ps. xvi. 8.

By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean,
the delights of glorified saints in heaven, which
some find while dwelling on earth; when far
from the multitude, secluded from care, and
conversing with the blessed God, they can ex
press themselves in these words, " My soul is
satisfied with marrow and fatness, when I re
member thee upon my bed, and meditate upon
thee in the night watches," Ps. Ixiii. 5, 6.
"Our conversation is in heaven," Phil. iii. 20.

By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean,
the impatience which some of the faithful feel,
to terminate a life of calamities and imperfec
tions; and the satisfaction they receive every
evening on reflecting that another day of their
pilgrimage is passed; that they are one step
nearer to eternity. "In this tabernacle we
groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon
with our house which is from heaven," 2 Cor.
v. 2. " My desire is to depart, and to be with
Christ," Phil. i. 23. Why is his chariot so
long in coming? Why do his coursers proceed
so slow? " When shall I come and appear be
fore God," Ps. xl. 2.

My brethren, in what language have I been
speaking? How few understand it! To how
many does it seem an unknown tongue! But
we have to blame ourselves alone if we are not
anointed in this way, and sealed by the Holy
Ghost; and if we do not participate in these
foretastes of eternity, which are the genuine
earnests of heaven. But ah! our taste is spoil
ed in the world. We have contracted the low
habits of seeking happiness solely in the recrea
tions of the age. Most, even of those who con
form to the precepts of piety, do it by con
straint. We obey God, merely because he is
God. We feel not the unutterable sweetness
in these appellations of Father, Friend, and
Benefactor, under which he is revealed by re
ligion. We do not conceive that his sole ob
ject, with regard to man, is to make him hap
py. But the world, — the world, — is the object
VOL. II.— 40

which attracts the heart, and the heart of the
best amongst us.

Let us then love the world, seeing it has
pleased God to unite us to it by ties so tender.
Let us endeavour to advance our families, to
add a little lustre to our name, and some con
sistency to what is denominated fortune. But
O! after all, let us regard these things in their
true light. Let us recollect that, upon earth,
man can only have transient happiness. My
fortune is not essential to my felicity; the lustre
of my name is not essential to my felicity; the
establishment of my family is not essential to
my felicity; and, since none of these things are
essential to my happiness, the great God, the
Being supremely gracious, has without the
least violation of his goodness, left them in the
uncertainty and vicissitude of all sublunary
bliss. But my salvation, my salvation, is far
above the vicissitudes of life. " The mountains
shall depart, and the hills be moved; but my
kindness shall not depart from thee, neither
shall the covenant of my peace be removed,"
Isa. liv. 10. "Lift up your eyes to the hea
vens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the
heavens shall vanish away like srnoke, and the
earth shall wax old like a garment; but my sal
vation shall be for ever, and my righteousness
shall not be abolished," Isa. li. 6. May God
indulge our hope, and crown it with success.
Amen.

SERMON LXXXVIL

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

MATTHEW xii. 46 — 50.

WJiile he yet talked to the people, behold his mo
ther, and his brethren stood without, desiring to
speak ivith him. Then one said unto him, be
hold, thy mother, and thy brethren stand with
out, desiring to speak with thee. But he an
swered and said unto him that told him, Who is
my mother? Jlnd who are my brethren? Jlnd
he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples,
and said, Behold my mother, and my brethren.
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father
which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and
sister, and mother.

HE " said unto his father and to his mother,
[ have not seen him; neither did he acknow-
edge his brethren, nor know his own children,"
Deut. xxxiii. 9. So Moses said of the tribe of
L,evi. Was it to reproach, or applaud? Fol-
owing the first impression of this sentence, it
contains undoubtedly a sharp rebuke, and a
deep reproach. In what more unfavourable
ight could we view the Levites? What became
of their natural affection, on disowning the
>ersons to whom they were united by ties so
Bender, on plunging their weapons in the breasts
if those who gave them birth?

But raising the mind superior to flesh and
lood, if you consider the words as connected
with the occasion to which they refer, you will
find an illustrious character of those ministers
f the living God; and one of the finest pane-
ryrics which mortals ever received.

Nature and religion, it is admitted, require
us to love, our neighbour, especially the mem-

314

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

[SER. LXXXVII.

bers of our families, as ourselves; and if we
may so speak, as our own substance. But if it
be a duty to love our neighbour, it is not less
admissible, that we ought to " love God with
all our heart, with all our soul, and with all
our mind." In fact we ought to love God
alone. Farther, our love to him ought to be
the centre of every other love: when the latter
is at variance with the former, God must have
the preference; when we can no longer love
father and mother without ceasing to love God,
our duty is determined; we must cease to love
our parents, that our love may return to its
centre. These were the dispositions of the
Levites. Obedient children, affectionate bre
thren, they rendered to the persons to whom
God had united them, every duty required by
so close a connexion. But when those persons
revolted against God, when they paid supreme
devotion u to an ox that eateth grass," as the
Psalmist says; when the Levites received this
commandment from God, their Lawgiver and
Supreme; " Put every man his sword by his
side, and go in and out from gate to gate
throughout the camp, and slay every man~ his
brother; and every man his companion, and
every man his neighbour," Exod. xxxii. 27.
Then the Levites knew neither brother, nor
friend, nor kinsman. By this illustrious zeal,
they acquired the encomium, " He said to his
father and his mother, I have not seen them;
and to his brethren, and his children, I have
not known them."

My brethren, if we must break the closest
ties with those who dissolve the bonds of union
with God, we ought to form the most intimate
connexion with those who are joined to him
by the sincerest piety. The degree of attach
ment they have for God, should proportion the
degree of attachment we have for them. Of
this disposition you have, in the words of my
text, a model the most worthy of imitation.
One apprised Jesus Christ, that his mother and
brethren requested to speak with him. " Who
is my mother? And who are my brethren?" re
plied he; " And stretching forth his hand to-*
wards his disciples, he said, Behold my mother,
and my brethren, for whosoever shall do the
will of my Father which is in heaven, the same
is my brother, and sister, and mother."

The nobility of this world, those men of
whom the Holy Spirit somewhere says, " Men
of high degree are a lie," have by this consi
deration been accustomed to enhance the dig
nity of their descent. Titles and dignities, say
they, may be purchased with money, obtained
by favour, or acquired by distinguished actions;
but real nobility cannot be bought, it is trans
mitted by an illustrious succession of ancestors,
which monarchs are unable to confer. Chris
tian! obscure mortal! offscouring of the world!
dust and ashes of the earth, whose father was
an Amorite, and whose mother was a Hittite,
the source of true nobility is opened to thee;
it is thy exclusive prerogative, (and may the
thought animate, with holy ambition, every
one in this assembly!) it is thy exclusive pre
rogative to be admitted into the family of the
blessed God. Take his moral perfections for
thy model; and thou shalt have his glory for
thy reward. To thee Jesus Christ will extend

his hand; to thee he will say, here is my bro
ther, and mother, and sister.

The Holy Spirit presents a double object in
the words of my text.

I. The family of Jesus Christ according to
the flesh.

II. The family of Jesus Christ according to
the Spirit. " One said, thy mother, and thy
brethren, desire to speak with thee." Here is
the family of Jesus Christ according to the
flesh. " Who is my mother? and who are mv
brethren? Whosoever shall do the will of my
Father which is in heaven, the same is my
brother, and sister, and mother." Here is the
family of Jesus Christ according to the Spirit.
Both these objects must be kept in view.

I. The idea which our Divine Master has
given us of this first family, will supersede our
minuter efforts to trace its origin. It is obvi
ous from what he has said, that our chief at
tention should be to develop the character of
those who belong to his family, according to
the Spirit, rather than to trace those who be
long to him according to the flesh. Whatever,
therefore, concerns this Divine Saviour, claims,
though not equal, at least some degree of at
tention. For we find in our researches con
cerning the family of Jesus Christ, according
to the flesh, proofs of his being the true Mes
siah, and consequently information which con
tributes to the confirmation of our faith.

There is no difficulty in determining con
cerning the identity of the person, called in
my text, the mother of Jesus. The expression
ought to be literally understood; it designates
that holy woman, whose happiness all ages
must magnify, she, by peculiar privilege, be
ing chosen of God to be "overshadowed by
the Highest," to bear in her sacred womb, and
bring into the world, the Saviour of men. She
is called Mary, she was of the tribe of Judah,
and of the family of David. This is nearly
all we know of her; and this is nearly all we
ought to know, in order to recognise in our
Jesus, one characteristic of the true Messiah,
who, according to early predictions, was to de
scend of this tribe, and of this family.

It is true that Celsus, Porphyry, Julian,
those execrable men, distinguished by their
hatred of Christianity, have disputed even this:
at least, they have defied us to prove it. They
have insinuated, that there are so many con
trarieties in the genealogies of St. Luke, and
St. Matthew, concerning the ancestors of our
Jesus, as to leave the pretensions of his descent
from David, and Judah, uncertain. It is to
be regretted, that the manner in which some
divines, and divines of distinguished name,
have replied to this objection, has, in fact,
given it weight, and seemed the last efforts of
a desperate cause, rather than a satisfactory
solution.

Is it a solution of this difficulty? is it a proof
that Jesus descended from the family of David,
as had been predicted, to say that the evange
lists insert the genealogy of Joseph, and omit
that of Mary, Jesus Christ being reputed the
son of a carpenter, and having been probably
adopted by him, was invested with all his
rights, the genealogy of the reputed father,
and the adopted son, being accounted the

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THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

315

same, thougn of different extraction? Would
not this have been the way to flatter a lie, not
to establish a truth? Did the prophets merely
say, that the Messiah was the reputed son of a
man descended from David's line? Did they
not say in a manner the most clear and ex
plicit in the world, that he was lineally de
scended from that family? Is it a solution of
the difficulty, to say that Mary was heiress of
her house, that the heiresses were obliged by
the law, to marry in their own tribe; and that
giving the genealogy of Joseph, was giving
the genealogy of Mary, to whom he was be
trothed? Is it not rather a supposition of the
point in dispute? And what record have we
left of Mary's family sufficiently authentic to
prove it?

Is it a solution of the difficulty to say, that
St. Matthew gives the genealogy of Christ,
considered as a king, and St. Luke the gene
alogy of Christ, considered as a priest; that
the one gives the genealogy of Mary, whom
they pretend was of the tribe of Levi, which
establishes the right of Christ to the high-
priesthood; the other gives the genealogy of
Joseph, descended from David's family, which
establishes his right to the kingdom? Is not
this opposing the words of St. Paul with a
bold front? " If perfection were by the Leviti-
cal priesthood, what farther need was there
that another priest should rise after the order
of Melchisedec, and not to be called after the
order of Aaron. For he of whom these things
are spoken, pertaineth to another tribe, of
which no man gave attendance at the altar;
for it is evident that our Lord sprang out of
Judah; of which Moses spake nothing concern
ing the priesthood after the similitude

of Melchisedec there arises another priest, who
is made, not after the law of carnal command
ments, but after the power of an endless life,"
Heb. vii. 11 — 13. These are the words of our
apostle.

"Without augmenting the catalogue of mis
taken solutions of this difficulty, we shall at
tend to that which seems the only true one.
It is this: St. Matthew gives the genealogy of
Joseph, the reputed father of Jesus Christ, and
he is so called in the second chapter, and for
ty-eighth verse of St. Luke. And it is very
important, that posterity shomld know the
family of the illustrious personage, to whose
superintendence Providence had committed
the Messiah in early life.

St. Luke gives the genealogy of Mary, to
identify that Jesus Christ had the essential
characteristic of the Messiah, by his descent
from David's family. It was also very impor
tant for posterity to know that he descended
from David; that he had a right to the throne,
not only as being the reputed son of one of
his offspring, who could confer it by adoption;
but also that being conceived by the Holy
Ghost, and having for his mother a woman de
scended from David, according to the flesh, he
himself descended from him, as much as it is
possible for a being to descend, introduced so
supernaturally into the world.

According to what has been advanced, it
may be objected, that there is no mention made
of Mary in the latter genealogy, more than in
the former, that both concern Joseph alone;

that St. Luke, whom we presume to have
given the genealogy of Mary, closes his cata
logue with the name of Joseph, as well as St.
Matthew, whom we allow to have given the
genealogy of Mary's husband.

But this objection can strike those only, who
are unacquainted with the method uniformly
adopted by the Jews, in giving the genealogy
of mar/ied women. They substituted the name
of the husband for that of the wife, consider
ing a man's son-in-law as his own offspring.
According to this usage, which I could support
by numerous authorities, these words of St.
Luke, " Jesus began to be about thirty years
of age, being, as was supposed, the son of Jo
seph, which was the son of Heli," amount to
this, "Jesus began to be about thirty years of
age, being, as was supposed, the son of Joseph,
which was the son-in-law of Heli," having be
trothed his daughter Mary. This is sufficient
on the genealogy of Mary.

But who are those called by the evangelist,
brethren of Christ? " One said unto him," and
these are the words of my text, " Behold thy
mother, and thy brethren, stand without, de
siring to speak with thee."

The opinion which has had the fewest parti
sans, and fewer still it merits (nor, should we
notice it here, were it not to introduce a gene
ral remark, that there never was an opinion,
how extravagant soever, but it found support
ers among the learned,) the opinion, I say, is
that of some of the ancients; they have ven
tured to affirm, that the persons called in my
text, the brethren of Christ, were sons of the
holy virgin, by a former husband. To name
this opinion is sufficient for its refutation.

The conjecture of some critics, though less
extravagant, is equally far from truth; they
presume, that the brethren of Christ were sons
of Joseph: a single remark will supersede this
notion. Four persons are called the brethren
of Christ, as appears from Matt. xiii. 54; it is
there said, that his acquaintance, the people of
Nazareth, talked of him in this way; "Whence
hath this man this wisdom, and these mighty
works? Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not
his mother called Mary? and his brethren,
James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas? This
James is unquestionably the same who is called
the less. Now it is indisputable that he was
the son of Mary, who was living at our Sa
viour's death: she was sister to the holy virgin,
and stood with her at the foot of the cross dur
ing the crucifixion. Hence, if James were the
son of Joseph, he must have been betrothed
to the holy virgin, while married to her sister,
who was living when he contracted his second
marriage, which is insupportable.

Let us, therefore, follow here the general
course of interpreters. The name of brethren,
is not always used in the strictest sense by the
sacred authors. It is not peculiarly applied to
those who have the same father and the same
mother: it frequently refers to the relatives
less connected. In this sense we use it here.
Mary, the wife of Cleophas, was sister to the
holy virgin; and the term sister the evangelists
apply in the closest sense. She had four sons,
above named, and they are called the brethren
of Christ, because they were his cousins-ger-
man. She had two daughters, who for the

316

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

LXXXVIL

same reasons, are called his sisters. If this hy
pothesis be attended with some difficulties, this
is not the place for their removal.

It was a most glorious consideration to the
holy virgin, to James, to Judas, to Joses, to
Simon, and to their sister, to be so nearly re
lated to Jesus Christ in the flesh. How ho
nourable to say, this man, whose sermons are
so sublime, — this man, whose voice inverts the
laws of nature, — this man, whom winds, seas,
and elements obey, — is my brother, is my son!
So the woman exclaimed, after hearing him
so conclusively refute the artful interrogations
of his enemies. " Blessed is the womb that
bare thee, and the paps which thou hast suck
ed." But how superior are the ties, which
unite the family of Jesus Christ according to
the Spirit, to those which unite them accord
ing to the flesh! So he said to the woman
above named, " Yea, rather blessed are they
that hear the word of God and keep it," Luke
xi. 27, 28. In my text, when apprized that
his most intimate relations, in the flesh, desir
ed an audience, he acknowledged none to be
of his family but the spiritually noble. " Be
hold thy mother, and thy brethren," said one,
" stand without, desiring to speak with thee.
Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?"
replied he, " and he stretched forth his hand
towards his disciples, and said, behold my mo
ther, and my brethren. For whosoever shall
do the will of my Father which is in heaven,
the same is my brother, and sister, and mo
ther." This we shall proceed to illustrate in
the second part of our discourse.

II. Our Saviour did not, in these words, de
sign to exclude from his spiritual family all
those who belonged to his family in the flesh.
Who can entertain any doubt but that the holy
virgin, who belonged to the latter, did not also
belong to the former? Whoever carried to
greater perfection than this holy woman, piety,
humility, obedience to the divine precepts, and
every other virtue which has distinguished
saints of the highest order?

The Scriptures afford also various examples,
of the love of Mary, the wife of Cleophas, to
Jesus Christ. She followed him to Jerusalem
when he went up to consummate the grand sa
crifice, for which he came into the world; she
stood at the foot of the cross with the holy vir
gin, when he actually offered up himself; she
went to water his tomb with her tears, when
apprized of his resurrection.

As to those whom the evangelists call the
brethren of Christ, I confess, that to him they
were not equally devoted. St. John affirms ex
pressly, " That his brethren did not believe in
him," John vii. 5. But whether we may take
this assertion in a more extended sense than in
the text: or whether St. John spake of the early
period of our Saviour's ministry; certain it is,
that among the four persons here called the
brethren of Christ, all of them had received the
seeds of piety, and avowed his cause; as I could
prove, if the limits of this discourse would per
mit.

If, therefore, Jesus Christ designated none as
the members of his spiritual family, but those
who were then recognised as his disciples, it was
not intended to exclude his relatives according
to the flesh, but to mark that the former then

afforded more distinguished evidences of their
faith and devotion to the will of his Father.

Neither was it our Saviour's design, — when
he seemed to disown his brethren, and his mo
ther, properly speaking, — to detach us from
persons to whom we are united by consangui
nity, and to supersede the duties required by
those endearing connexions. By no means:
those affectionate fathers, who have invariably
sought the happiness of their children; — those
children, who, animated with gratitude, after
sharing the indulgence of a father during his
vigour, become, when age has chilled his blood,
and enfeebled his reason, the support of his de
clining years; — those brothers who afford ex
amples of union and concord, — are actuated by
the religion of Jesus Christ. The laws of na
ture ought, in this view, to have a preference
to the laws of grace. I would say, that, al
though religion may unite us more closely to a
pious stranger, than to an impious father, I
think it the duty of a child to bestow more care
in cherishing a wicked father, than a deserving
stranger.

What our Saviour would say in the text is,
that though he had a family according to the
flesh, he had also a preferable family according
to the Spirit; and that the members of his spi
ritual family are more closely united to him
than the members of his natural household. Of
this spiritual family I proceed to speak. And
I have further to say, my dear brethren, that I
would associate you in this spiritual family, in
the latter period of this discourse. Condescend
to follow us in the few remarks we have yet to
make. We will show, 1. The nature, and 2.
The strength of this family connexion. 3. Its
effects; or to speak with more propriety, its
wonders. 4. Its superior felicity. 5. The per
sons it includes.

1. The nature of this relation consists in sin
cere obedience to the will of God. " Whosoever
shall do the will of my Father, the same is my
brother, and sister, and mother." Here we
have two extremes to avoid: the one is the
forming of too severe an idea, the other of con
ceiving notions too relaxed, of this disposition
of heart.

Do not, therefore, conceive too severe an idea
of obedience. I do not mean, that devotion to
the will of God can ever be carried too far.
No! though you were ready, like Abraham, to
immolate an only son; though you had such
exalted views of "the recompense of the re
ward," that, like Moses, you would prefer the
reproach of Christ to Egypt and its treasures;
though you had the fervour of Elijah, the piety
of David, the zeal of Josiah, the affection of St.
John, and the energy of St. Peter; though you
were all ready, like the cloud of witnesses men
tioned in the epistle to the Hebrews, to be
stoned, to be slain, to endure cruel torments, to
be killed with the sword, to wander about in
sheep-skins, and in goat-skins, in deserts and
mountains, in dens and caves of the earth, you
would not exceed a due devotion to the will of
God.

But though it is not possible to carry this dis
position too far, it is, nevertheless, possible to
exaggerate that degree which constitutes us
members of the Saviour's spiritual family. He
knows whereof we are made. Religion is not

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317

for angels, but for men; and, however holy men
may be, their virtues always participate of the
infirmities inseparable from human nature.
Those disciples, towards whom Jesus Christ
extended his hand, committed, during the early
period of their piety, faults, and great faults too.
They sometimes misconceived the object of
their mission; sometimes distrusted his promises;
they were sometimes slow of heart to believe
the facts announced by the prophets; they once
slept when they ought to have sustained their
Master in his agony; they abandoned him to his i
executioners; and one denied knowing him, '
even with an oath, and that he was his disciple.
Virtue, even the most sincere and perfect, is
liable to wide deviations, to total eclipses, and
great faults: — hence, on this subject, you should
avoid too severe a standard.

But you should equally avoid forming of it
notions too relaxed. Do you claim kindred
with the spiritual family of Jesus Christ' Do
you claim the same intimacy with the Saviour
which a man has with his brother, his sister,
and his mother? Tremble then, while you hear
these words of St. Paul, "What fellowship hath
righteousness with unrighteousness? what com
munion hath light with darkness; and what con
cord hath Christ with Belial?" 2 Cor. vi. 14, 15.
Tremble while you hear these words of Christ,
" No man can serve two masters," Matt. vi. 24.
Or, to unfold to you a more detailed field of
reflection, do you not exceedingly mistake con
cerning obedience to the will of God?

The will of God not only requires negative
virtues, which consist in abstaining from evil;
but positive virtues also, which consist not in a
mere refraining from slander, but in reprehend
ing the slanderer; — not in a mere refusal to re
ceive your neighbour's goods, but in a commu
nication of your own; — not only in abstaining
from blasphemy against God, but also in bless
ing him at all times, and in having your mouth
full of his praise.

The will of God not only requires of you
popular virtues, as sincerity, fidelity, courage,
and submission to the laws, are generally ac
counted; it also requires those very virtues
which are degraded by the world, and consi
dered as a weakness; such as forgiveness of in
juries, and contempt of worldly pomp.

The will of God not only requires virtues cor
respondent to your temperature, as retirement,
if you are naturally sullen and reserved; absti
nence from pleasure, if you are naturally pen
sive and dull; patience, if you are naturally
phlegmatic, heavy and indolent: it likewise re
quires virtues the most opposite to your tern- '
perature; as purity, if you are inclined to con- I
cupiscence; moderation, if you are of an angry
disposition.

The will of God requires, not mutilated vir- |
tues, but a constellation of virtues, approaching
to perfection. It requires "whatsoever things ',
are pure, whatsoever things are lovely; if there i
be any virtue, and if there be any praise, that
you should think on these," Phil. iv. 8. It re
quires you to add, " to faith, virtue; to virtue,
knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and
to temperance, patience; and to patience, god
liness; and to godliness, brotherly-kindness; and
to brotherly-kindness, charity," 2 Pet. i. 5 — 7.

The will of God requires not an immaturity

of virtue, checked in its growth; it requires you
to carry, or endeavour to carry, every virtue to
the highest degree; to have perfection for your
end, and Jesus Christ for your pattern.

2. and 3. After having reviewed the nature,
and consequently the excellency of this con
nexion, let us next consider its strength. What
we shall say on this head, naturally turns our
thoughts towards its prodigies and effects. The
power of this connexion is so strong, that the
members of this spiritual family are incompara
bly more closely united to one another, than
the members of a carnal family. This is ob
vious in the words of my text. Our Saviour
has borrowed figures from whatever was most
endearing in civil society, and even from con
nexions of the most opposite nature, in order to
elevate our ideas of the union which subsists
between him and the members of his family;
and of the union, they have one with another:
" Whosoever shall do the will of my Father
which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and
sister, and mother. In this idea there is no
exaggeration. Associate whatever is most en
dearing between a brother and brother; between
a brother and a sister; between a child and a
parent; associate the whole of these different
parts in one body, and imagine, if it be possible
to conceive an object still more closely united,
than the different parts of this body; and your
views will still be imperfect of the ties which
subsist between the members of Jesus Christ's
spiritual family.

They have in common, first a union of de
sign. In all their actions they individually have
in view nothing but the glory of that Sovereign
whom they serve with emulation; and to whom
they are all unanimously devoted.

They have, secondly, a union of inclination.
God is the centre of their love; and being thus
united to him, as the third (if I may borrow an
idea from the schoolmen,) they are united one
to another.

Thirdly, they have a union of interest. They
are all equally interested to see the government
of the universe in the hands of their Sovereign.
His happiness constitutes their felicity, and
each equally aspires after communion with the
blessed God.

They have, fourthly, a union coeval in its
existence. Go back to the ages preceding the
world, and you will see the members of this
spiritual family united in the bosom of divine
mercy; — even from the moment they were dis
tinguished as the objects of his tenderest love,
and most distinguished grace; even from the
moment the victim was appointed to be immo
lated in sacrifice for their sins. Descend to the
present period of the world: let us say more; —
look forward to futurity, and you will find them
ever united, in the noble design of incessantly
glorifying the Author of their existence and
felicity.

Hence you see the prodigies produced by this
connexion. You see what Jesus Christ has
done for those who are united in devotion to his
Father's will. His incarnation, his passion, his
cross, his Spirit, his grace, his intercession, his
kingdom, — nothing is accounted too precious
for men, joined to him by those tender and en
dearing ties.

You see likewise, what the men united to

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THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

[SER. LXXXVIL

Jesus Christ arc qualified to do one for another:
they are all of one heart and one soul, arid are
ever ready to make the mutual sacrifices of be
nevolence and love.

4. The ties which connect the members of
Jesus Christ's family are not less happy than
strong. Connexions merely human, however
endearing, however delightful, are invariably
accompanied with anguish. What anguish
must attend a connexion cemented with vice!
What painful sensations, even in the midst of
a criminal course! What remorse on reflection
and thought: What horror on viewing the
consequences of unlawful pleasures! On say
ing to one's self, the recollection of this inter
course will pierce me in a dying hour; this un
happy person, with whom I am now so closely
connected, will be my tormentor for ever!

What anguish is attended even on friend
ship the most innocent, when extended too far!
Delightful connexions, formed on earth by con
genial souls, cemented by the intercourse of
mutual love, and crowned with prosperity:
delightful bonds which connect a father with
a son, and a son with a father; a wife with a
husband, and a husband with a wife; what re
gret you produce, when death, the allotted
period, or end of man, and of all human com
forts, — what regret you cost, — when death
compels us to dissolve these ties! Witness so
many Josephs attending their fathers to the
tomb, who had been the glory of their families.
Witness so many Rachels " refusing to be
comforted because their children are not,"
Matt. xi. 18. Witness so many Davids, who
exclaim with excess of grief, " O, my son
Absalom — my son, my son Absalom — would
to God I had died for thee — O Absalom, my

son, my son!

2 Sam. xviii. 33.

But in the ties which connect the family of
Jesus Christ, there is no mixture of anguish.
This you may infer from what we have ad
vanced; and your own reflections may supply
the scanty limits in which we are obliged to
comprise this point.

5. We shall lastly consider the persons con
nected by the bonds of obedience to the will of
God.

The family of Jesus Christ consist of a selec
tion of all the excellent in heaven and in earth.
So St. Paul has expressed himself, "Of whom
the whole parentage," or as the text may be
read, " Of whom the whole family in heaven
and in earth is named," Eph. iii. 15. On
earth, the family of Jesus is not distinguished
by the greatness of its number: and to the
shame of the human kind, there is a father
whose family is far more numerous than the
Saviour's: this father is the devil. And who
are the children of the devil? To this question
Jesus Christ has given us a key. He said,
when speaking to the Pharisees, " Ye are of
your father the devil, and the lusts of your fa
ther ye will do; he was a murderer from the
beginning, and abode not in the truth; he is a
liar, and the father of it," John viii. 44. These
are the two characteristics of his children; lying
and murder.

1. Lying. If you betray the truth, if you
employ your genius, your wit, your knowledge,
to embarrass the truth, instead of employing
them for the acquisition of self-knowledge, and
a communication of the truth to others; if we

become your enemy when we tell you the
truth, when we combat your prejudices, when
we attack your errors, when we endeavour to
irradiate your minds, and to take the lamp
of revelation from beneath the bushel; if this
is your characteristic, recognise in yourselves
this trait of your father, which is lying, for he
is " the father of a lie;" and take to yourselves
this awful declaration, " Ye are of your father
the devil."

"Z. He is a murderer; and to hate our neigh
bour is, according to the language of Scripture,
to kill him; for " he that hateth his brother,"
as St. John has decided, " is a murderer,"
John iii. 15. Yes, if you obstruct your neigh
bour's happiness; if you are envious at his
prosperity: if you are irritated by his virtues;
if mortified by his reputation; if you take de
light in aggravating his real faults, and in the
imputation of imaginary defects, recognise
another trait of your father; apply to yourselves
this awful assertion, which so many may apply
with propriety, "Ye are of your father the
devil."

It is nevertheless true, that how numerous
soever the children of the devil may be on the
earth, Jesus Christ has a family among men:
and it is composed of those who believe, those
whom a sincere faith has invested with the
privilege of considering themselves, according
to St. John, as members of the family of God:
" To as many as received him, to them gave
he power," which I would render right, prero
gative, privilege, " to become the sons of God."

The branches of God's spiritual family are
not always visible to the eyes of the flesh, but
they are to the eyes of the spirit; they are not
always objects of sense, but they are objects
of faith, which assures us of the continued ex
istence of a ho]y church. Sometimes the fury
of persecution, which prevents us from per
ceiving them, drives them into deserts, and
causes them to take refuge in dens and caves
of the earth. Sometimes the prevalence of
calumny paints their character in shades dark
as hell, calls their moderation indolence, their
meekness cowardice, their modesty meanness
of mind, their firmness obstinacy, their hope
a chimera, their zeal illusion and enthusiasm.
Sometimes it is the veil of humility by which
they conceal their virtues, and which causes
them to be con/bunded with persons who have
no virtue, and to be less esteemed than persons
whose virtues are affected. " Their kingdom"
invariably " is not of this world: Now are we
the sons of God, and it doth not appear what
we shall be. We are dead, and our life is hid
with Christ in God," John xviii. 36; 1 John iii.
2; Col. iii. 3.

But though the members of this spiritual
family are not always visible, the reality of
their existence is not diminished. On their
account the world exists. Their prayers stay
the avenging arm of an angry God, and save
the guilty world from being crushed beneath
the stroke: for their sakes he sometimes miti
gates the calamities, with which human crimes
oblige him to visit the nations. It is their en
treaties which cause their God and Redeemer
speedily to descend, and which hasten the
happy day that is the object of their wishes,
and subject of their prayers, " Come, Lord
Jesus — come quickly."

SER. LXXXVIL]

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

310

And if the family of Jesus Christ is "named
on earth," it is more especially named in hea
ven. There it exists, there it shines in all its
lustre. But who are the members of this family
of Jesus Christ? They are " the redeemed out
of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and
nation." They are the ambassadors of the gos
pel, who have " turned many unto righteous
ness; they shine as the brightness of the firma
ment, and as stars" of the first magnitude. They
are martyrs, come up out of great tribulation,
they are " clothed in white robes, which they
have washed in the blood of the Lamb." They
are all saints, who having fought under his
banner, participate the laurels of his victory.
They are angels who excel in strength, and
obey his voice. They are winged cherubim,
who fly at his command. They are seraphim
burning with his love. They are the thousand
millions which serve him, and ten thousand
millions which stand before him. They are
the " great multitude, whose voice is in the
sound of many waters," and whose obedience
to God is crowned with glory; but they cast
their crowns before the throne, and cry con
tinually, " Hallelujah — let us be glad and re
joice, and give glory unto him."

Such is the spiritual family of Jesus Christ,
and such is the Christian family. Many of
its members lie scattered in different parts of
the earth, but the part which is most numerous,
excellent, and consummate in virtue, is in
heaven. What a consolation! But language
is too weak! What a consolation to the be
liever, against whom old age, infirmities, and
sickness have pronounced the sentence of death!
What a consolation to say " My family is in
heaven; a gulf separates me, but it is not like
the gulf which separates the damned from the
glorified spirits, of which Abraham said to the
rich man, " between us and you there is a great
gulf fixed." It is a gulf whose darkness is en
lightened by faith, whose horrors are assuaged
by hope; — it is a gulf through which we are
cheered and animated by the voice of Christ; —
a gulf from which one final struggle shall in
stantly make us free.

Death is sometimes represented to me under
an idea happily calculated to assuage its an
guish. There is not one of you, who has at
tained maturity of age, but has frequently seen
those persons snatched away by death, who
constituted the greatest happiness of your life.
This is inevitably the lot of those to whom
God accords, the precious shall I say? or the
sad privilege of running the race of life. They
live, but they see those daily taken away, whose
company attached them to life. I look on
death as reuniting me to those persons, whose
loss had occasioned me so many tears during
my pilgrimage. I represent myself as arriving
in heaven and seeing this friend running to meet
me, to whom rny soul was united as the soul
of David to Jonathan. I imagine myself as
presented to those ancestors, whose memory is
so revered, and whose example is so worthy
of imitation. I represent those children as
coming before me, whose death affected me
with a bitter anguish which continued all my
days: with those innocent creatures I see my
self surrounded; whom God, to promote their
happiness, resumed by an early death.

This idea of death, and of the felicity which
follows, is extremely delightful; and I do most
sincerely believe it; at least I have never yet
met with a thought, which could dissuade me
from thinking that the glorified saints shall
enjoy, in heaven, the society of those with
whom they have been so intimately connected
on earth. But how real and pleasing soever
this thought may be, it is, my dear brethren,
far too contracted. Let us form more exalted
notions of the happiness God has prepared for
us. Our family is in heaven, but not exclu
sively composed of the small circle of friends of
whom we have been deprived by death. Re
collect what we have just said. Our family is
composed of the redeemed " out of every kin
dred, and tongue, and people, and nation:" —
of the ambassadors of the gospel, " who have
turned many to righteousness, who shine as
the brightness of the firmament, and as the
stairs for ever and ever:" — of martyrs, " who
came up out of great tribulation, who have
washed their robes, and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb." Our family is composed
of those illustrious saints, who have fought
under the banner of Christ, and they now sit
down on his throne. Farther, our family is
composed of those " angels that excel in
strength, and obey the voice of God:"— of
those cherubim which fly at his command.
Our family is composed of those thousand,
thousand millions, and ten thousand millions
which stand before him, and cast their crowns
before the throne of Him who conferred the
dignity upon them, crying continually, " Hal
lelujah, let us be glad and rejoice, and give
glory unto him!" Jesus Christ is the first-born
of this household; God, who is all and in all,
is head of the whole: these are the beings to
whom we are about to be united by death.

What a powerful consolation against the
fear of death! What an abundant remunera
tion of delight, for the privation of persons,
whose memory is so dear! O my friends, my
children, and all of you, who have during my
abode on earth, been the objects of my tender-
est and most ardent attachment; — you, who
after having contributed to my happiness during
life, come again and surround my dying bed,
receive the final tests of an attachment, which
should never be less suspected than in these
last moments; — collect the tears, which the
pain of parting induces me to shed; — see, in
the anguish of my last farewell, all that my
heart has felt for you.

But do not detain me any longer upon earth;
suffer me at the moment when I feel my loss,
to estimate my gain; allow me to fix my regards
on those ever-during connexions I am about to
form; — on the angels who are going to convey
my soul to the bosom of God; — on the innu
merable multitudes of the blessed, among whom
I am going to reside, and with whose voices I
am going to join in everlasting praises to my
God and Saviour.

Among the transports excited by objects so
elating, if any wish yet remain, it is to see you
speedily associated with me, in the same so
ciety, and participating the same felicity. May
heaven hear rny prayer! To God be honour and
glory for ever. Amen.

320

ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [SEE. LXXXVIII,

SERMON LXXXVIII.

ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

MATT. xxvi. 69, &c. LUKE xxii. 61, &c.
Now Peter sat without in the palace; and a dam
sel came unto him, saying, Thou also wast with
Jesus of Galilee. But he denied before them
all, saying, I know not what thou sayest. Jlnd
when he was gone out into the porch, another
maid saw him, and said unto them that were
there, This fellow was also with Jesus of Na
zareth. Jlnd again he denied with an oath, 1
do not know the man. Jlnd after a while came
unto him them that stood by, and said to Peter,
surely thou also art one of them, for thy speech
betrayeth thee. Then began he to curse and to
swear, saying, I know not the man. Jlnd im
mediately while he yet spake, the cock cre\o.
Jlnd the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter;
and Peter remembered the word of the Lord,
how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow,
thou shalt deny me thrice. Jlnd Peter went
out, and wept bitterly.

IT is laudable, my brethren, to form noble
designs, to be immovable at the presence of
danger, and to cherish dignity of sentiment
and thought. This virtue distinguishes the
heroes of our age; it equally distinguishes the
heroes of religion and piety. They defy the
whole universe to shake their faith; amid the
greatest dangers, they adopt this language of
triumph: " What shall separate us from the
love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or
persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril,
or the sword? Nay, in all these things we are
more than conquerors, through him that hath
loved us," Rom. viii. 34, 35.

But how laudable soever this disposition
may be, it ought to be restricted; it degene
rates into presumption when carried to ex
tremes. Many, by not knowing how to pro
portion their strength to their courage, have
fallen in the day of trial, and realized the very
maxim, " They that love the danger, shall pe
rish by the danger." This is exemplified in the
person of St. Peter. His heart, glowing with
attachment to his Master, every thing was
promised from his zeal. Seeing Jesus on the
waters, he solicited permission to walk like
the Saviour; but feeling his feet sink beneath
the surface of the unstable element, he dis
trusted either the power or the fidelity of his
Master; and unless he had been supported by
his compassionate arms, he had made ship
wreck, to express myself with St. Paul, both
of his faith and his life together. Seeing Jesus
led away to the high-priest's house, he follow
ed without hesitation, and resolved to follow
even to the cross. Here, likewise, on seeing
the Jews irritated, the soldiers armed, and a
thousand terrific appearances of death, he sav
ed his life by a base denial; and, unless his
wavering faith had been restored by a look
from his Lord, the bonds of union had been
totally dissolved.

In the examination of this history, we shall
see first, the cowardice of an apostle, who
yielded, for the moment, to the force of temp

tation. We shall see, secondly, Jesus Christ
vanquishing the enemy of our salvation, and
depriving him of his prey, by a single glance
of his eyes. We shall see, lastly, a penitent re
covering from his fall: and replying, by his
tears, to the expressive looks of Jesus Christ: —
three inexhaustible sources of reflection.

We shall consider, first, the fall of St. Pe
ter; and it will appear deplorable, if we pay
attention to the object which excited his fear,
and to the circumstances with which it was
connected.

The object which excited his fear, was mar
tyrdom. Let us not magnify the standard of
moral ideas. The fear of martyrdom is inse
parable from human weakness. The most des
perate diseases afford some fluctuating hopes
of recovery; which diminish the fears of death.
It is an awful thing for a man to see the period
of his death precisely fixed, and within the dis
tance of a day, an hour, a moment. And if
it is awful to approach a death, obvious (so to
speak) to our view, how much more awful,
when that death is surrounded with tortures,
with racks, with pincers, with caldrons of boil
ing oil, and all those instruments invented by
superstitious zeal and ingenious malice. If,
however, there ever were occasions to deplore
the weakness of man, it is on account of the
fears excited by the idea of martyrdom. Fol
low us then while we illustrate this assertion.

That men must die, is one of the most cer
tain and evident propositions ever advanced.
Neither vice nor virtue, neither religion nor
infidelity, nor any consideration, can dispense
( with this common lot of man. Were a system
introduced teaching us the art of living for
ever on the earth, we should undoubtedly be
come our own enemies, by immolating the
hope of future felicity, for a life of such in
quietude as that we should enjoy on the earth.
And if there had been such a life, perhaps we
should have been base enough to give it the
preference of our religious hope. If it had
failed in securing the approbation of the mind,
*it would, at least, have interested the concu
piscence of the heart. But whatever is our
opinion, die we must; this is an indisputable
fact, which no one dares to dispute.

Prudence, unable to avert the execution of
the sentence, should be employed in disarming
its terrors: destitute of all hope of escaping
death, we ought to employ all our prudence in
the choice of that kind of death, which is most
supportable. And what is there in the severest
sufferings of martyrs, which is not preferable to
the death we expect from nature? If I consider
death as an abdication of all I enjoy, and as an
impenetrable veil, which conceals the objects
of sense, I see nothing in the death of the mar
tyr, that is not common to every other kind of
death. To die on a bed, to die on a scaffold,
is equally to leave the world; and the sole dif
ference is, that the martyr finding nothing but
troubles, gibbets, and crosses, in this life, de
taches himself with less difficulty than the
other, who dies surrounded by inviting objects.

If I consider death, with regard to the pains
which precede and attend its approach, I con
fess it requires courage more than human, to
be unmoved at the terrific apparatus exposed
to the eyes of a martyr. But, if we except

SER. LXXXVIIL] ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

321

some peculiar cases, in which the tyrants have
had the barbarity to prolong the lives of the
sufferers, in order to extend their torments,
there are few sudden deaths, which are not at
tended with less pain than natural death.
There are few death-beds, which do not exhi
bit scenes more tragic than the scaffold. Pain
is not more supportable, because it has symp
toms less striking; nor are afflictions the less
severe, because they are interior.

If I consider death, with regard to the just
fear of fainting in the conflicts, in which I am
about to be vanquished by the king of terrors,
there are superabundant aids reserved for those
who sacrifice their lives for religion. The great
est miracles have been achieved in favour of
confessors and martyrs. St. Peter received
some instances of the kind; but I will venture
to affirm, that we have had more than he. It
was on the verge of martyrdom, that an angel
opened the doors of his prison. It was on the
eve of martyrdom, that Paul and Silas felt the
prison shake, and saw their chains broken
asunder. It was in the midst of martyrdom,
that Stephen saw the heavens open, and the
Son of man standing at the right hand of God.
It was also in the midst of martyrdom, that
Barlaam sung this psalm, " Blessed be the
Lord, my strength, which teacheth my hands
to war, and my fingers to fight."

If I consider death, with regard to the aw
ful tribunal before which it cites me to appear,
and with regard to the eternal books about to
be opened, in which are registered so many
vain thoughts, so many idle words, so many
criminal courses, the weight of which is heavy
on my conscience; I see nothing still in the
death of a martyr, that is not to be preferred
to a natural death. It is allowed that the ex
ercise of repentance, in dying circumstances,
the prayers, the repeated vows, the submission
\o the will of God, who leads us through the
valley of the shadow of death, are tests of our
reconciliation to him. But these tests are of
ten deceitful. Experience but too frequently
realizes what we have often said, that the dy
ing take that for willing obedience, which is
but constraint. A martyr has purer tests of his
sincerity. A martyr might preserve his life, by
the commission of a crime; but rather than
sin, he devotes it in sacrifice.

Lastly, if I consider death, with regard to the
futurity into which it will cause us to enter, I
see nothing but what should excite in the mar
tyr transports of joy. He has not only the pro
mise of celestial happiness, but celestial hap
piness of the highest degree. It is to the mar
tyr, that Jesus Christ calls from the highest
abodes of heaven; " To him that overcometh,
will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even
as I also overcame, and am set down with my
Father in his throne," Rev. iii. 21.

But the fall of St. Peter, though deplorable
in itself, becomes still more so, by its concom
itant circumstances. Let us review them.

It was first, the simple charge of a servant
maid, and of a few spectators standing by,
which shook his courage. Had the apostle
been cited before the sanhedrim; — had he been
legally called upon to give an account of his
faith; — had the cross, to which he promised to
follow his Master, been prepared before his
VOL. II.— 41

eyes; — you would have said, that the magni
tude of the danger striking his senses, had con
founded his reason. But none of these objects
were, in reality, presented. The judges, sole
ly engaged in gratifying their fury against the
Master, did not so much as think upon ti
servant. A maid spake, and her voice recalled
the idea of the council, the death, and the cross,
and filled his soul with horror at the thought.
Secondly, St. Peter was warned. Jesus
Christ had declared to him, in general, that
" Satan had desired to sift him as wheat;" and,
in particular, that he would three times deny
him that very night. A caution so salutary
ought to have induced him to redouble his vt
gilance; to fortify the place, the weakness of
which had been pointed out; and to avoid a
danger, of the magnitude of which he had
been apprised. When a man is surprised
by an unforeseen temptation; when he falls
from a precipice, of which he was not aware,
he is worthy of more compassion than blame.
But here is a crime, known, revealed, and pre
dicted.

The third circumstance is derived from the
abundant knowledge communicated to our
apostle. Against the offence of our Saviour's
humiliation, he had been peculiarly fortified;
he had heard a voice from the excellent glory
on the holy mountain; he had been apprised,
more than any other disciple, that the suffer
ings of Christ were connected with the scheme
of redemption.

The fourth circumstance is derived from the
high office with which St. Peter was invested;
from the commission he had received from
his Master, in common with the other mem
bers of the apostolic college, "to go and preach
the kingdom of heaven;" and from this decla
ation, " Thou art Peter, upon this rock will I
auild my church." This man, called to build
up the church, gave it one of the greatest
shocks it could possibly have received. This
man, called to preach the gospel of Jesus
Christ, declared he knew him not. This man,
constituted an established minister of his reli
gion, became an apostate, and risked the draw
ng with him into the same gulf, the souls with
whose salvation he had been entrusted. Some
'aults affect none but the offenders, but others
lave a general influence on all the church.
And such, ministers of the living God, are our
iaults! Our example is contagious, it diffuses a
saneful poison on all those, over whom Provi
dence has appointed us to watch.

The oaths he used to confirm his denial are
a fifth circumstance. Not content with dis
simulation, he denied. Not content with a
threefold denial, he denied with an oath; a cir
cumstance not in the text, but noted by the
other evangelists.

My brethren, do you understand in these
3rovinces, all that is execrable in wie cihne of
jerjury! I doubt it. A perjured man is one
who takes the God who bears the motto of
' Faithful and true Witness," to attest an as
sertion, of the falsehood of which he cannot be
gnorant. A perjured person is one who defies
the power of Almighty God: who says, in or
der to deceive, "Great God! thou holdest
thunderbolts in thy hand, launch them this
moment at my head, if I do not speak as -

ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [SER. LXXXV11I.

322

think. Great God! thou decidest the destiny
of my immortal soul, plunge it into hell, if the
sentiments of my heart are not conformable to
the words of my tongue." Hence, when St.
Peter disavowed his knowledge of Jesus Christ,
it was saying in fact, "Yes, Great God! if I
know this man, of having connexion with
whom I am now questioned, to be my Master;
if I have heard celestial voices, saying, " This
is my beloved Son;" if I have seen him trans
figured on the holy mountain; if I have heard
his sermons; if I have attested his miracles; if
that indeed be true, may I be the object of thy
everlasting abhorrence and revenge."

The sixth circumstance is the period at which
St. Peter disowned Jesus Christ. At the in
stant Jesus Christ displayed the tenderest
marks of his love, St. Peter requited him with
the most cruel ingratitude. At the moment
Jesus Christ was about to redeem St. Peter,
this apostle disowned his Master. At the mo
ment Jesus Christ was about to lay down his
life for St. Peter, at the moment he was going
to endure for him the death of the cross, this
apostle refused to confess him.

Ah! human virtue! how feeble thou art,
whenever the breath of the Almighty, by which
thou art sustained, comes to be resumed! And
if the Lots, the Moseses, the Davids, the Josi-
ahs, and so many more; — if these pillars of the
church have been shaken, what shall not these
frail foundations be! — If these suns, irradiated
" to shine in the midst of a crooked and per
verse generation," have sustained eclipses,
what shall it not be with the smoking flax! If
the cedars of Lebanon have been almost rooted
up, what shall it not be with the hyssop of the
wall!

But let us no longer leave our apostle in the
sad situation in which he has been considered.
Among the difficulties opposed to the perseve
rance of the saints, the sins to which they are
liable seems to be the strongest. Which side
soever we embrace, we apparently fall into
error. " Will he for ever precipitate in hell,
the man for whom the availing sacrifice of thje
cross has already been presented? But also will
he ever receive into paradise, a man contami
nated with so foul a crime? Will he resume
his grace after it is once given? But will he
continue it with him, who renders himself un
worthy?" Here Providence removes the diffi
culty which theology cannot solve. It extends
to the fallen a gracious hand. That St. Peter
the friend of Jesus Christ should be excluded
from his grace, seems impossible. That St.
Peter should ever be readmitted to his favour
seems not less inconceivable. Jesus Christ
came to his aid, and enabled him to recover
from his crime. Here is the solution of the
difficulty. Then, adds our evangelist, Jesus
Christ turned toward St. Peter, and looked at
tentively at him. This is the second part of
my discourse.

II. My brethren, how expressive was that
look! How eloquent were those eyes! Never
was discourse so energetic! Never did orator
express himself with so much force! Jesus
looked on Peter. — It was the Man of griefs
complaining of a new burden, added to that,
under the pressure of which he already groaned.
It was the compassionate Redeemer, pitying a

soul about to destroy itself. — It was the Apostle
of our salvation, preaching in bonds. — It was
the subduer of the heart, the omnipotent God,
repressing the efforts of the devil, and depriving
him of his prey.

1. It was the man of griefs, complaining of
a new burden, added to that, under the pres
sure of which he already groaned. — We can
not doubt but the denial of St. Peter, augment
ed the passion of Jesus Christ. A wound is the
more severely felt, in proportion as the inflict
ing hand is dear to us. We are not astonished
to see an enemy turn his rage against us; the
case is common. But when we find perfidy,
where we expected fidelity, and where we had
cause to expect it; and when it is a friend who
betrays us, the anguish of the thought is diffi
cult to sustain. So it was with Jesus Christ.
That the Jewish populace were armed against
him, was not surprising; they knew him not.
That the Pharisees should solicit his death is
less astonishing; he had exclaimed against their
sins. That the Roman soldiers should join the
Jews, is not surprising; they considered him as
the enemy of Cesar. That the priests should
accelerate his condemnation, is no marvel; they
thought they were avenging Moses and the
prophets. But that St. Peter, who ought to
have supported him in his anguish, should ag
gravate it; — that he, who ought to have attest
ed his innocence, should deny him; — that he,
who ought to have extended his hand to wipe
away his tears, should, in some sort, lend his
arm to assassins; — it was this which pierced the
Saviour's soul, and caused this reproachful
glance of his eyes on St. Peter.

2. It was the compassionate Redeemer, pity
ing a soul on the verge of destruction. One
trait we cannot sufficiently admire, that during
our Saviour's passion; that amid the severest
sufferings, he was less concerned for himself,
than for the salvation of those for whom he
suffered. Some days before his death, he was
employed in supporting the disciples against
the scandal of the cross. In the admirable
prayer, addressed to the Father, he in some
sort, forgot himself, and prayed solely for them.
In the garden of Gethsemane, amid the most
tremulous conflicts, which he sustained against
the Father's justice, he interrupted the suppli
cations for divine assistance, to go and exhort
the disciples to watchfulness and prayer, and
to arm them against the devil. On the cross,
he prayed for his murderers; and would have
shed his blood with pleasure, if he might have
rejoiced over those who shed it, and obtained
for them forgiveness and salvation.

More affected with the wound received by
his disciple, than with what concerned himself,
his soul dissolved in compassion: he seemed to
say, " Simon, son of Jonas, I devote myself in
sacrifice without reluctance, if it may obtain
thy salvation. I submit with pleasure, to the
justice of my Father, if thy restoration may be
obtained. But when I see thee, at the moment
of my death, withdrawing thyself from that
mercy, the whole of whose treasures I have
opened; when I see thee ' accounting the blood
of the covenant,' I am going to shed, ' an un
holy thing;' when I see that I die, and die in
vain with regard to thee, if thou shouldst not
recover from thy fall, my passion becomes the

SER. LXXXVIII.1 ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

323

more severe, and the anguish of my death is
redoubled." '

This leads us to a third reflection. The look
of Jesus Christ discovered an upbraiding as
pect, by which the Saviour would reclaim the
sinner. Hence, on casting his eyes upon him,
he selected the circumstance of the crowing of
the cock. The crowing of the cock, was as
much the signal to realize the prediction of
Jesus Christ, as to remind St. Peter of his pro
mise; and Jesus looked in that moment, that
Peter might recollect his vows, his oaths, his
protestations; he looked to claim his promise,
or at least to confound him for his defect of
fidelity.

But, however just these explanations may
appear, they do not fully unfold the sense of
the text. There is something miraculous in
the history: and the interpretations already
given, offer nothing to the mind, but what
might occur in a natural way. This look of
Jesus Christ was, like the words of his mouth,
"sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing
even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit,
and of the joints and marrow," Heb. iv. 12.
When the disciples were going to Emmaus,
they found an unction in the discourse of Jesus
Christ, which induced them to say, " Did not
our hearts burn within us, while he talked with
us by the way, and while he opened to us the
Scriptures?" Luke xxiv. 32. As if they had
said, It is not necessary that our eyes should
identify the person of Jesus Christ, to be assur
ed he has appeared to us; it is not necessary that
we should associate the testimony of the wo
men, with the predictions of the prophets; it is
not necessary to investigate the removal of the
stone, the emptiness of the sepulchre, and the
folding of the linen, to ascertain his resurrec
tion. We have arguments superior to these:
the ascendancy he obtained over our minds, by
the power of his word, and the fire which kin
dled our hearts, are proof sufficient, that we
have conversed with Jesus. Such indeed was
this look. It was a flash of fire, which irradi
ated the eyes of the apostle, which forcibly re
vealed the knowledge of himself, which con
strained him to give glory to God; which dissi
pated all his terrors; which raised his drooping
courage; which calmed all his fears; which con
firmed his feeble knees; which reanimated his
expiring zeal.

Hence you perceive the eloquence of the
speaker, the intelligence of the hearer, the en
ergy of the Saviour's looks, and the sensibility
of St. Peter's heart. By this single glance of
the Saviour's eyes, inexpressible anguish was
excited in his soul; his recollection was restor
ed, he came to himself, his heart expired, his
countenance was appalled, a vapour arose in
his eyes, which descended in a torrent of tears.
Jesus Christ spake by his looks, St. Peter re
plied by contrition. This is the third part of
my discourse.

III. My brethren, the recollection of sin
causes grief of different kinds: three sorts of
tears it particularly causes to be shed. Tears
of despair, tears of torment, and tears of re
pentance. Tears of despair are shed on earth,
tears of torment in hell, and tears of repentance
in the church.

The anguish of despair is felt in this life.

Such, on some occasions, is the imbecility of
the human mind, as neither to resist a tempta
tion to sin, nor to endure the recollection of a
former crime; and the same base principle
which induces a man to sin, frequently excites
despair, on the recollection of its turpitude.
Judas wept with despair; he could not support
the recollection of his crime; he saw, he felt,
he confessed its atrocity; and having returned
to the priests the thirty pieces of silver, the
awful reward of his treason, he went out, and
hanged himself.

The damned, on seeing the period of their
repentance past, and the hour of vengeance
come, shed tears of despair in hell. This is
the "outer darkness, in which there is weep
ing and gnashing of teeth."

But the faithful while spared in the church,
shed tears of repentance: of this sort were
those of St. Peter.

You may first observe his anguish. He not
only wept, but he wept bitterly. Forming im
perfect notions of vice, as we mostly do, it is
not surprising that we should think a repent
ance, superficial as ours, adequate to its expia
tion. But regarding it in a just light, consi
dering the majesty of Him it insults, the awful
cloud it interposes between God and us, the
alarming influence it has in the soul of our
neighbour, and the painful uncertainty in which
it places the conscience; we cannot shed tears
too bitter for the calamity of wilful transgres
sion.

You may, secondly, remark the promptitude
of the apostle's tears. " Then," says the evan
gelist, that is, "as soon as Jesus Christ had
looked on him." The most laudable resolu
tions are doubtful, when they look solely at
the future, and neglect to promote a present
reform. In general, they are less the effects
of piety, cherishing a desire to abandon vice,
than the laxity of the flesh; which, by hope
of repentance after indulgence, would prevent
remorse from interrupting the pleasures we
expect from a vicious course. I fear every
thing for a man, who, when exhorted to re
pent, replies, to-morrow, at a future period. I
fear every thing for such a man; I fear the
winds; I fear the waves; I fear affliction; I fear
the fever; I fear distraction; I fear the habit; I
fear .exhausting the treasures of patience and
long-suffering. St. Peter deferred not to a
precarious futurity, the care of his salvation.
As soon as Jesus Christ had looked on him,
he perceived it; as soon as he called, he an
swered; as soon as the hand was extended, he
arose.

Observe, thirdly, the precaution attendant
on his tears; " he went out." Not that he was
ashamed to acknowledge his Master, in the
place where he had denied him, but distrust
ing himself; presumption having cost him too
much, he made a wise use of his past temerity.

My brethren, would you know the true
source of barrenness in your devotion; would
you find the cause of so many obliterated vows,
so many sacred purposes vanished away, so
many projects dispersed as smoke, so many
oaths violated, you will find them in the de
fects of precaution. The sincere Christian
fortifies that place in his heart, whose weak
ness sad experience has discovered; he profits

324

ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [SER. LXXXVIII.

by his loss, and derives advantage from his re
lapse. He says, that object was fatal to my
innocence; I must no more look upon it; that
company drew me into this sin; I must instant
ly withdraw; it was in the court of Caiaphas I
disowned my Saviour, I must shun that place.

In fine, adequately to comprehend the na
ture of St. Peter's repentance, we must dis
cover all the effects a sight of his sin produced
in his soul. Here I would have my hearers
suspend the effects of fatigue; they are incapa
ble of attention, too far prolonged, though we
discuss the most interesting truths of religion.
I would, authorized by custom, add another
text to that I have read. It occurs in the
Gospel according to St. John. Jesus said to
Peter, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me
more than these? He saith unto him, Yea,
Lord, thou knowest I love thee: He saith un
to him, feed my lambs." What has been said
of lawful love, — that those whose hearts are
united, never differ with the object of their
affection, but it tends to augment the flame, —
may be said of divine love. This is obvious
from the text we have cited; Jesus Christ and
St. Peter alternately retaliated, for the eclipses
their love had sustained.

It is true, the apostle replied only to part of
the question of Jesus Christ. He was asked,
" Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more
than these?" On all other occasions, he would
frankly have replied, "Yea, Lord, thou
knowest that I love thee more than these."
Ah, Lord! I well know the allusion of thy
words; I fully perceive that thou wouldst hum
ble me, by the recollection of the promise I
have made, and which I have basely violated;
" Though all men should be offended with
thee, yet will I never be offended." I am fully
impressed with the mortifying history thou
wouldst retrace. I am the least of all my
brethren: there is not one to whom I can dare
to give myself the preference.

If St. Peter replied with humility, he replied
also with sincerity and zeal. If we wish a
believer to be humble, we never wish him to
be vain. If we do not require him to say, " I
am conscious of being so established in grace,
as never to be shaken;" we wish at least, that
he should feel the cheering and reviving flame
of divine love, when its embers are most con
cealed in the ashes. We wish him not to
make an ostentatious display of piety, but to
evidence the tender attachment he has for
God, even when, through weakness, he has
happened to offend him. This was the dis
position of St. Peter, and his humility implied
no defect of love. " Simon, son of Jonas,
lovest thou me?" " Lord! I can presume no
thing of myself, the past makes me tremble
for the future; the example of distinguished
saints, and mine still more, humbles and abases
my soul. Perhaps, like Job, I shall curse the
day of my birth; perhaps, like David, I shall
become guilty of murder and treason; perhaps,
I shall deny thee again; perhaps, I shall be so
vile, as to repeat these awful words, which
will, to me, be a subject of everlasting regret,
" I know not the man, I am not one of his
disciples;" and if thou wilt condemn me, thou
hast only to crush a worm, on whom no de-
pendance can be placed. After all, Lord! amid

so many defects, so many offences, I feel that
I love thee still; I feel that strong temptations
can never eradicate a love, which is graven on
my heart; I feel, when thy perfections are dis
cussed, that they affect, penetrate, and fill my
soul; I feel delighted that my Redeemer is in
vested with such abundant glory and strength;
when thy gospel is preached, I feel my heart
burn within me; and I admire and adore the
God, who has revealed a scheme of salvation
so grand, so noble, so sublime. I feel, not
withstanding this awful deviation, inconceiva
ble sorrow, and inconceivable shame, which,
to me, is an evident test, that the God I of
fend, is in reality, the God I love."

Can it be imagined, that St. Peter's avowal
of his weakness, rendered his love less estima
ble to his Master? Can it be conceived, that
Jesus Christ is less delicate in his attachment
than man? Knowing the fidelity of a friend,
having a thousand satisfactory tests of his at
tachment, do you cease to love him, when he
has committed a fault, for which he is wound
ed the first' " The Lord knoweth whereof
we are made." Our faults, howsoever glaring
(if followed by repentance,) though they may
suspend, for a period, the influence of his love,
can neither change its nature, nor restrict its
duration. St. Peter had no sooner said to his
Master, " Lord, thou knowest that I love thee,"
than he was re-established in his ministry by
his prompt reply, " Feed my sheep."

O how worthily did this apostle repair the
offence he had given the church, by his devo
tion to its interests. Methinks I see him gather
ing, on the day of Pentecost, the souls which,
perhaps, he had caused to stray! Methinks I
seem to hear those pathetic addresses proceed
from his mouth, which, like streams of light
ning, enkindle every thing in their course; sof
tening those very souls, which the cross of
Christ was unable to move; extorting from
them this language, highly expressive of com
punction, " Men and brethren, what shall we
do?" Methinks I see him flying from Pontus
to Galatia, from Galatia to Bithynia, from
Bithynia to Cappadocia, from Cappadocia to
every province of Asia, from Asia to Rome,
leaving all his course strewed with the wreck
of Satan's power; with trophies of temples
demolished, of idols dethroned, of pagans con
verted, correspondent consequences of a minis
try, which, at its first commencement, had con
verted eight thousand men. Methinks I see
him led from tribunal to tribunal, sometimes
before the Jews, and sometimes before the Ro
mans, every where loaded with the reproach
of Christ, every where confessing his name;
finally fixed on a cross, and saying, as he died
for the Redeemer, who had died for him.
" Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest
that I love thee."

Such was the repentance of St. Peter, and
such may ours now be! May those eyes which
still seek us, as they sought him, pierce our
heart, as they pierced his; striking the con-,
science with sanctifying terror, and causing
those tears of repentance to flow, which are so
availing for the sinner.

They ought to produce those particular ef
fects on you, my brethren, whose sin has had
a sad conformity to St. Peter's; who having

SER. LXXXVIIL] ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

seen (while in France) Jesus Christ delivered
again into the hands of thieves, and hearing
the interrogation, " You, also, are not you his
disciples?" have answered as our apostle, " I
know not the man, I am not one of his disci
ples." O! seek the eyes of Jesus Christ: see
the looks he gives, hear what they say: Cow
ardly souls, are these the fine promises you
made in time of peace? Is this the example
you have set before the church? Was it not
enough . . . ? But why do I open wounds,
which the mercy of God has closed? Why do
I recall the recollection of a crime, which so
many tears, so many torrents of blood, so
many sacrifices, have effaced? It is, indeed,
less with a view that I name it now, to re
proach the fault, than to remind you of the
vows you made, when, all bathed in tears, you
implored forgiveness; less to overwhelm you
with a sight of your sin, than to comfort you
with that divine mercy, which has done it all
away.

Who can ascertain the extent of mercy?
Who can find language sufficiently strong, and
figures sufficiently pure, noble, and sublime, for
its adequate illustration? To what sinner did
it ever prohibit access? What wounded and
contrite conscience was ever repulsed at its
bar? This immensity of mercy has forgiven
Nebuchadnezzar and Manasseh, the one a
monster in nature, the other a monster in re
ligion. It has forgiven St. Paul for persecu
tion, and St. Peter for apostacy. It has for
given you, who have imitated this weak disci
ple; it has readmitted you into the fellowship
of the church, who had so basely abandoned
it. Happy those apostate protestants, if Jesus
Christ should deign to cast his eyes upon them,
as he has on you. Happy if, on quitting the
court of Caiaphas, in which they have, like
our apostle, denied their Master, they should
weep like you.

O God! if we are permitted to address thee,
though but " dust and ashes," is it for the con
firmation, or the confusion of our faith, that, on
this subject, thouseemest inexorable; and a sub
ject on which we will never cease to pray. On
this head, has the mighty God " forgotten to
have compassion?" No! I cannot persuade my
self that God has for ever abandoned so large
a portion of his church. No! I cannot persuade
myself that God has ceased to watch over the
consciences of those our unhappy brethren,
whom Satan has so long detained in security
and slumber. No! I cannot persuade myself,
that God should permit so many children to
perish for the sins of their fathers; and to be for
ever separated from the church, to which they
materially belong. Let our part be done, and
God's shall surely be accomplished. Let us be
afflicted for the affliction of Joseph. Let us
pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Let the ca
lamities of the church be ever on our mind.
They are ever before the eyes of God; they ex
cite him to jealousy; they cause him to emerge
from that cloud, in which he has so long been
concealed for the exclusion of our prayers.

APPLICATION.

I address myself to you, my brethren, whose
characters have never been defiled with so foul
* blot: offer not incense to your drag, nor sacri-

325

fice to your net. Ascribe not to your courage
a felicity which, perhaps, is solely due to the
favourable circumstances in which you may
have been providentially placed. Remember
St. Peter. He reposed the utmost confidence
in his zeal; and, the first trial he made of his
strength, he was convinced of his weakness.
Had God smitten the shepherd in the midst of
you, perhaps the sheep would have been scat
tered. Had you, as so many others, seen gal
leys equipped, dungeons opened, gibbets erect
ed, fagots kindled, executioners armed, racks
prepared, perhaps you would likewise have de
nied the Saviour.

Do I impose on my hearers? Do you judge
by what we do in the time of peace, of what we
should do in the time of tribulation? Let each
here sound the depth of his own heart, and let
him support, if possible, the dignity of Jesus
Christ. How frequently, amid a slanderous
multitude, who have said to us, " Are not you
his disciples? Are not you attached to those,
who make it a point of conscience not to men
tion the faults of your neighbours?" How often
have we replied, by a guilty silence, " I know
him not, I am not one of his disciples." How
often in licentious company, when asked, "Are
not you of that class? Are not you one of those,
who restrict their appetites, moderate their pas
sions, and mortify the flesh?" How often have
we answered, " I know him not, I am not one
of his disciples." How often when led away
with the enemies of righteousness, who have
said, " Are not you one of that company? Are
not you one of those who pique themselves on
primitive virtue?" How often have we an
swered by a cowardly conduct, " I know him
not, I am not one of his disciples."

In defiance of all the composure and apathy
with which we daily commit this sort of sins,
conscience sometimes awakes and enforces re
formation. One of those happy occasions is
just at hand. A crowded audience is expected
here on Wednesday next. A trumpet is blown
in Zion; a solemn assembly is convoked; a fast
is proclaimed. But shall I tell you, my bre
thren? After excepting the small number who
will then afflict their righteous soul, and no
doubt, redouble their devotion; after excepting
the small number, and after examining the na
ture of our solemn humiliations, that I am less
afraid of your sins, than of your fasts for na
tional reform?

Before the great God; — before the Holy One
of Israel, whose love of holiness is infinite as
himself, we shall appear on Wednesday next,
with minds still immersed in the cares, and agi
tated with the pleasures of the preceding day;
we shall appear with dissipation, with a heart
neither touched, nor broken, nor contrite: we
shall each appear, and say, " I have sinned;"
or in other words, " I have made my house a
scene of voluptuousness, a seat of slander, a
haunt of infamy: I have trampled my brethren
under my feet, and this opulence, with which
God has invested me to support, I have em
ployed to oppress the wretched: I have amassed
exorbitant gains on the right hand, and the left;
I have sacrificed friend, pupil, widow, orphan;
I have sacrificed every thing to my private in
terest, the only god I worship and adore." On
this great God, who discovers the most latent

326

ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [SEE. LXXXVIII.

foldings of the heart, whose " sword divides
asunder the soul and spirit, the joints and mar
row;" in whose presence "all things," the mind
and heart, the secret thoughts, the concealed
crimes, the dark designs, " all things are naked
and manifest;" — on this great God we presume
to impose by the exterior, by the tinsel of de
votion, by covering ourselves with sackcloth
and ashes, by bowing the neck to the yoke, and
afflicting the soul for a single day; even, if we
should put on sackcloth and ashes; if we should
bow the neck to the yoke, and afflict the soul
for a single day. But this very exterior, of
which God says, " Is this the fast I have chosen?
Callest thou this a fast, a day agreeable to the
Lord?" Isaiah Iviii. 5. This mere exterior is not
even found among us: we have only to open our
eyes to admit the propriety of the charge.

Before this great God, whose power is infi
nite, and who seems to have displayed it of late
years, solely to punish the crimes of men, and
to strike all Europe with terror and death, with
horror and despair; — before this God we shall
presume to ask, not to be involved in the gene
ral destruction: we shall presume to offer up
this prayer, while each is resolved to insult him,
to devour one another, to adhere to our crimi
nal connexions, to persevere in our unlawful
gains. Am I then extravagant in saying, that,
when I reflect on the nature of our solemn hu
miliations, I am less afraid of our sins, than of
fasts we celebrate for national reform?

Not that this sort of fasts are always una
vailing; the mercy of God sometimes gives them
effect, and endeavours in some sort to overlook
our hypocrisy. " When he slew them, then
they sought him, and remembered that God
was their rock. Nevertheless, they did flatter
with their mouth, and they lied unto him with
their tongues, for their heart was not right with
him. But he being full of compassion, forgave
their iniquity, and many a time turned away
his anger," Ps. Ixxviii. 34 — 38. God has not
only acted on these principles with regard to
his ancient people, but even with regard to us.
On the approach of death, when we have soughjL.
the Lord by solemn prayer, " When we have
remembered our rock, when we have flattered
with our mouth, and lied with our tongues,"
promising reformation, he has had compassion
upon us, and has retarded our destruction. On
that account we still live. On that account
these hearers are still present in this temple, and
the wicked among them have been precipitated
into the gulf of Gehenna. But how long, think
you, can this sort of fasts produce the effects for
which they have hitherto availed? Weigh
the words which follow the above quotation.
"When God heard this, he was wroth, and
greatly abhorred Israel: so that he forsook the
tabernacle in Shiloh, the tent he had planted
among men. And he delivered his strength
into captivity, and his glory into the enemy's
hand," verse 59 — 62.

Holland! Holland! here is the sentence of thy
destiny. God, after regarding our humiliations
for a certain time, after " remembering that we
are but flesh," after enduring the prayers of de
ceitful tongues, and the promises of feigned lips,
he will finally hear the cry of our sins, he will
abhor Israel, he will abandon his pavilion in

Shiloh, and this sacred temple in which he
deigns to dwell with men.

My brethren, are we yet spared to sound the
alarm, to thunder? And shall we not adopt a
new mode of celebrating this fast, and endea
vour to execute it?

And you, our senators and governors! who
have appointed this solemnity, let us apprize you
also of its appropriate duties. Come on Wed
nesday next: like modern Jehoshaphats, pros
trate, at the footstool of God's throne, the dig
nities with which you are invested; and for
which you must give so solemn an account.
Come, and let all your glory consist in humi
liation and repentance. Come, and surrender
into his Omnipotent hands, the reins of this re
public, and swear that you will henceforth go
vern it by no maxims but his laws. And may
God grant, may God indeed grant you, to set
so laudable an example before his church; and,
having inspired you with the noble resolution,
may he crown it with effect!

Ministers of Jesus Christ, whom Providence
calls on Wednesday next to administer the
word, your task is obviously great. With what
a charge are you intrusted! On you principally
devolves the duty of alarming and abasing the
wicked. On you principally devolves the duty
of stopping the torrent of iniquity, which is fol
lowed by these awful calamities. On you prin
cipally devolves the duty of quenching the
flames of celestial vengeance, enkindled against
our sins. " Who is sufficient for these things?"
But use your efforts, and expect the rest from
the blessing of God. Speak as ministers ought
to speak on like occasions. " Cry aloud, lift
up your voice like a trumpet, show Jacob his
transgressions, and Israel his sins." If you tes
tify the truth, what matter if they murmur
against your discourses. And may God, on
this solemn occasion, " teach your hands to
war, and your fingers to fight." May God in
spire you with magnanimity of mind corres
pondent to the mission with which you are in
vested.

And you, Christian people, what will you do
on Wednesday next? It is not only your pre
sence in this temple, — it is not only hymns and
prayers, supplications, and tears, which we so
licit, — a fast should be signalized by more dis
tinguished marks of conversion and repentance:
these are restitution, these are mutual recon
ciliation, these are a profusion of charities, these
are a diligent search for the indigent, who are
expiring as much through shame as want.
Here, here, my dear brethren, is what we re
quire. And let me obtain this request! Let me
even expire in this pulpit, in endeavouring to
add some degree of energy to your devotion,
and effect to your fast! Our prayers shall sup
ply our weakness. O Almighty God! O God!
who makest "judgment thy strange work," let
our prayers appease thy indignation! Resist
not a concourse of people, assembled to besiege
the throne of thy grace, and to move thy bowels
of paternal compassion! When our nobles, our
pastors, our heads of houses, our children, when
all our people, when all shall be assembled on
Wednesday next in this house, with eyes bathed
in tears, with hearts rent, for having offended
so good and gracious a God, — when each shall

SER. LXXXIX.]

ON THE NATURE OF, &c.

327

cry from the ashes of our repentance, "Have
mercy upon me, according1 to the multitude of
thy tender mercies, and blot out my transgres
sions." Deign thou also to be present, O great
God, and "Holy one of Israel." Deign thou
also to be present with the goodness, the love,
the bowels of compassion, which thou hast for
poor penitent sinners! Hear, O Lord, hear, O
Lord, and pardon! Amen.

SERMON LXXXIX.

ON THE NATURE OF THE UNPAR
DONABLE SIN.

HEBREWS vi. 4 — 6.

It is impossible for those who were once enlightened,
and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were
made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have
tasted the good word of God, and the powers of
the world to come: if they shall fall away, to re
new them again unto repentance.
" How dreadful is this place! This is none
other but the house of God, and this is the gate
of heaven." On a different occasion, there
would have been nothing surprising in the fears
of Jacob. Had God revealed himself to this
patriarch in the awful glory of avenging wrath,
and surrounded with devouring fire, "with
darkness and with tempest;" it would have been
surprising that a man, that a sinner, and a be
liever of the earlier ages of the church, should
have been vanquished at the sight. But, at a
period when God approached him with the ten-
derest marks of love; when he erected a mira
culous ladder between heaven and earth, caus
ing the angels to ascend and descend for the
protection of his servant; when he addressed
him in these consolatory words, " Behold I am
with thee, I will keep thee in all places whither
thou goest, and I will bring thee again into this
land; for I will not leave thee;" that Jacob
should tremble in such a moment, is what we
cannot conceive without astonishment. What!
is the gate of heaven dreadful; and is the house
of God an object calculated to strike terror into
the mind?

My brethren, Jacob's fear unquestionably
proceeded from the presence of God, from the
singularity of the vision, and the peculiar scene
ry of the discovery, which had struck his ima
gination. But let us farther extend our thoughts.
Yes, the gate of heaven is terrible, and the house
of God is dreadful! and his favours should im
press solemnity on the heart. Distinguished
favours give occasion to distinguished crimes;
and from places the most exalted have occurred
the greatest falls. St. Paul, in the words of my
text, places each of the Hebrews, whom he ad
dressed, in the situation of Jacob. He exhibits
a portrait of the prodigies achieved in their fa
vour, since their conversion to Christianity; the
miracles which had struck their senses; the
knowledge which had irradiated their minds;
and the impressions which had been made on
their hearts. He opens to them the gate of
heaven; but, at the same time, requires that
they should exclaim, "How dreadful is this
place!" From this profusion of grace, he draws
motives for salutary fear. "It is impossible,"

says he, " for those who were once enlightened,
and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were
made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have
tasted the good word of God, and the powers
of the world to come; if they shall fall away, to
renew them again unto repentance."

St. Paul, after having pronounced these ter
rific words, adds; " Behold we are persuaded
better things of you." Happy apostle, who,
while pronouncing the sentence of celestial
vengeance, could flatter himself that it would
not fall on any of his audience. But we, my
brethren, how shall we say to you? " Beloved,
we are persuaded better things of you." The
disposition is worthy of our wishes. May it
be the effect of this discourse, and the fruit of
our ministry!

To have been enlightened, — to have tasted
the heavenly gift, — to have been partakers of
the Holy Ghost, — to have tasted the good
word of God, and felt the powers of the world
to come, — and to fall away in defiance of so
much grace, — such are the odious traits em
ployed by the apostle to degrade a crime, the
nature of which we proceed to -define. The
awful characteristics in the portrait, and the
superadded conclusion, that it is impossible to
renew them again unto repentance, fully ap
prize us, that he here speaks of the foulest of
all offences; and, at the same time, gives us a
limited notion of its nature.

Some have thought, that the surest way to
obtain a just idea of the sin, was to represent it
by every atrocious circumstance. They have
collected all the characteristics, which could
add aggravation to the crime: they have said,
that a man who has known the truth, who has
despised, hated, and opposed it, neither through
fear of punishment, nor hope of reward, offer
ed by tyrants to apostacy, but from a principle
of malice, is the identical person of whom the
apostle speaks; and that in this monstrous as
sociation of light, conviction, opposition, and
unconquerable abhorrence of the truth, this aw
ful crime consists.

Others, proceeding farther, have searched
ancient and modern history, for persons, in
whom those characteristics associate; that, su-
peradding example to description, they might
exhibit a complete portrait of the sin, into
whose nature we shall now inquire. They
have selected two striking examples. The first
is that of the emperor Julian, the unworthy ne
phew of Constantine the Great, designated in
history under the odious appellation of apostate,
who, after having been bred in the bosom of
the church, and after having officiated with his
brother, as reader (do not be surprised, my bre
thren, that the nephew of an emperor should
wish to be a reader in the church, the first
Christians had higher ideas than we of the sa
cred functions,) after, I say, having sustained
this office, abandoned the faith, persecuted the
church, endeavoured to refute Christianity, as
sumed the character of chief pontiff, carried
himself to that excess as to wish to efface the
impression of baptism by the blood of victims,
and if we may credit a tradition reported by
Theodoret, died blaspheming against Jesus
Christ.*

* Hist. Eccles. lib. iii. cap. 3.

328

ON THE NATURE OF

[SER. LXXXIX.

The second example is that of the most sin
gular Venetian, whose memory seems handed
down to posterity solely to excite horror, and
for ever to intimidate those who renounce the
truth. His name is Francis Spierra. He had
tasted the doctrine of the Reformation, and
published his sentiments; but on being cited
before the pope's nuncio, and menaced with
the loss of his head, if he did not instantly re
cant, his fears occasioned his baseness, and he
had the weakness to make a public renuncia
tion of our communion. But scarcely had he
made the abjuration ere he was abandoned to
the horrors of melancholy. The anguish of
his mind was fatal to the body; and as one en
deavoured to convince him of the boundless
mercy of God, "I- know it," he exclaimed,
" I know that God is merciful; but this mercy
belongs not to me, to me who have denied the
truth. I have sinned against the Holy Ghost;
I already feel the horrors of the damned. My
terrors are insupportable. Who wilj deliver my
soul from this body? Who will open for her
the caverns of the abyss? Who will chase her
into the darkest abodes of hell? I am damned
without resource. I consider God no longer
as my Father, but as my enemy. I detest
him; (is it possible that a Christian mouth
should open with the like blasphemies!) I de
test him as such. I am impatient to join the
curses of the demons in hell, whose pains and
horrors I already feel."*

In the course of this sermon, we shall endea
vour to draw, from their method, whatever
may most contribute to your instruction. But,
first of all, we deem it our duty to make some
previous observations, and to derive the light
from its source. In the discussion of a sin,
solitary in its nature, the Scriptures having ex
cluded none from salvation, but those who are
guilty of this offence, it is of the last impor
tance to review all those passages, which, it is
presumed, have reference to the crime: we
must inquire in what they differ, and in what
they agree, drawing, from this association of
light, that instruction, which cannot be derived
from any other source.

The task will not exceed our limits, there
being at most but four texts, in which, it is pre
sumed, the Scriptures speak of this sin. The
first is in the gospels where mention is made of
speaking or blaspheming against the Holy
Ghost: " I say unto you, all manner of sin and
blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men; but the
blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not
be forgiven unto men. And whosover speak-
eth a word against the Son of man, it shall be
forgiven him; but whosoever speaketh against
the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him,
neither in this world, neither in that which is
to come." This text, which Augustine deems
the most difficult in the Scriptures, will be
come intelligible, if we examine the occasion
and weigh the words.

The occasion is obvious to understand. Jesus
had just cured a demoniac. The Pharisees had
attested the fact, and could not deny its divine
authority: their eyes decided in favour of Jesus
Christ. But they had recourse to an extraordi-

*Our author thought himself ju»tified in reciting this
•ad case, there being thousands in France who had re
nounced the reformed religion.

nary method of defaming his character. Un
able to destroy the force of the miracle, they
maintained that it proceeded from an impure
source, and that it was by the power of the
devil Jesus Christ healed this afflicted class of
men. This was the occasion on which he pro
nounced the words we have recited.

The import of the expressions is no way diffi
cult to comprehend. Who is the Son of Man?
And who is the Holy Ghost? And what is it
to speak against the one and the other? The
Son of man is Jesus Christ revealed in human
form. Without staying here to refute a mis
take of the learned Grotius, who pretends be
cause the article does not precede the word, it
is not to be understood of our Saviour, but of
men in general. To confirm the sense here
attached to the term, we shall only observe,
that St. Luke, chap. xii. 8, after calling our
Saviour " the Son of man," immediately adds,
" Whosoever shall speak a word against the
Son of man, it shall be forgiven him:" where
it evidently follows, that by " the Son of man,"
Jesus Christ must be understood. And though
the expression may elsewhere have other signi
fications, they have no connexion with our
subject.

By the Holy Ghost, must be understood the
third person in the adorable Trinity; consider
ed not only as God, but as Author of the
miracles achieved for the confirmation of the
gospel. Hence, to " speak against the Son of
man," was to outrage the Lord Jesus; to render
his doctrine suspected; to call his mission in
question; and particularly to be offended at the
humiliations which surrounded it on earth.
Such was their conduct who said, " Is not this
the carpenter's son? Can there any good thing
come out of Nazareth? A gluttonous man, a
wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners."

To speak against the Holy Ghost, was ma
liciously to reject a doctrine, when he who de
livered it, confirmed the truth of it by so dis
tinguished and evident a miracle as healing a
demoniac; and to ascribe those miracles to the
devil, which, they were assured, had God alone
for their author. Here, I conceive, is all the
light we can derive from the text. And as
many persons determine the sense of the text,
not so much by the letter as the reputation of
the interpreter, we must apprize them, that we
have derived this explanation not only from
the writings of our most celebrated commenta
tors who have espoused it, but also from the
works of the most celebrated of the fathers —
I mean Chrysostom. The following is the sub
stance of his paraphrase on the text in St. Mat
thew: — " You have called me a deceiver, and
an enemy of God; I forgive this reproach.
Having some cause to stumble at the flesh with
which I am clothed, you might not know who
I am. But can you be ignorant that the cast
ing out of demons, is the work of the Holy
Ghost' For this cause, he who says, that I do
these miracles by Beelzebub, shall not obtain
remission."

Such is the comment of Chrysostom, to
whom we add the remark of an author, wor
thy of superior confidence; it is St. Mark, who
subjoins these words: " Because the Pharisees
said he hath an unclean spirit." Hence it is
I inferred that the Pharisees, by ascribing the

SER. LXXXIX.]

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN.

329

miracles of the Holy Ghost, to an unclean
spirit, were guilty of the identical sin against
the Holy Ghost, of which Jesus Christ had
spoken: as is apparently proved.

The second text we shall explain, occurs in
the fifth chapter of the first epistle of St. John.
" If any man see his brother sin a sin which
is not unto death, he shall ask, and he shall
give him life for them that sin not unto death:
there is a sin unto death; I do not say ye shall
pray for it." On this question there are, as
we usually say, as many opinions as parties.

Consult the doctors of the Romish church,
and they will establish, on these words, the
frivolous distinction between venial and mortal
sins; a conjecture both false, and directly op
posed to the design of those from whom it pro
ceeds. Because, if this sense be true, the mo
ment a man commits a mortal sin, prayer must
cease with regard to him; and he who com
mits a venial sin, will still need the prayers of
saints to avoid a death he has not deserved;
this is not only indefensible, but what the Ca
tholics themselves would not presume to main
tain.

Waving the various glosses of the Nova-
tians, and other commentators, do you ask
what is the idea we should attach to these
words of the apostle, and what is the sin of
which he here speaks? We repeat what we
have already intimated, that it is difficult to ex
plain. However, on investigating the views of
the apostle throughout the chapter, we discover
the sense of this text. His design was. to em
bolden the young converts in the profession of
the religion they had so happily embraced.
With this view, he here recapitulates the proofs
which established its truth: " There are three
that bear witness on earth, the water, and the
spirit, and the blood. It is the innocence of the
primitive Christians, which is called the water;
the miracles which are called the spirit; and
martyrdom, by which the faithful have sealed
their testimony, and which is called the blood:
attesting that those three classes of witnesses,
demonstrate the truth of the Christian religion,
and render its opposers utterly inexcusable.

After these and similar observations, the
apostle says expressly, that he wrote for the
confirmation of their faith, and closes with this
exhortation: " Little children, keep yourselves
from idols." Between these two texts, occur
the words we wish to explain: " There is a sin
unto death: I do not say that ye shall pray for
it." Must not " the sin unto death," be that,
against which he wished to fortify the saints;
I mean apostacy?

What! you will say, is a man lost without
remedy who has denied the truth; and is every
one in the sad situation of those for whom the
apostle prohibits prayer? God forbid, my bre
thren, that we should preach so strange a doc
trine; and once more renew the Novatian se
verity! There are two kinds of apostates, and
two kinds of apostacies: there is one kind of
apostacy into which we fall by the fear of
punishment, or on the blush of the moment,
by the promises Satan makes to his proselytes.
There is another, into which we fall by the
enmity we have against the truth, by the de
testable pleasure we take in opposing its force.
Jt were cruel to account the first of these of-
VOL. II.— 42

fences, "a sin unto death;" but the Spirit of
God prompts us to attach this idea to the
second. There are likewise two kinds of apos
tates. There is one class, who have made only
small attainments in the knowledge of the
truth; weak and imperfect Christians, unac
quainted as yet with the joys and transports
excited in the soul by a religion, which pro
mises remission of sin, and everlasting felicity.
There is another, on the contrary, to whom
God has given superior knowledge, to whom
he has communicated the gifts of miracles, and
whom he has caused to experience the sweet
ness of his promise. It would be hard to re
ject the first; but the apostle had regard to the
second. Those, according to St. John, who
have committed the " sin unto death," are the
persons who abjure Christianity, after the re
ception of all those gifts. In the primitive
church, where some were honoured with the
endowment of discerning spirits, there proba
bly were brethren who could discern the latter
apostates from the former.

These observations lead to the illustration
of the two passages yet to be explained: the
one is in the tenth chapter to the Hebrews; the
other is our text. In both these passages, it is
obvious the apostle had the second class of
apostates in view. This is very apparent from
our text. Throughout the whole of this epistle,
it is easy to prove, that the apostle's wish was
the prevention of apostacy. He especially de
signed to demonstrate, that to renounce Chris
tianity, after attesting its confirmation by mira
cles, here denominated " distributions of the
Holy Ghost," was a crime of the grossest enor
mity. He has the same design in the text.
Let us examine the terms.

1. "They were once enlightened;" that is,
they had known the truth. They had com
pared the prophets with the apostles, the pro
phecies with the accomplishment; and by the
collective force of truth, they were fully per
suaded that Jesus was the Messiah. Or, if you
please, " they were once enlightened;" that is,
" they were baptized;" baptism, in the primi
tive church, succeeding instruction, according
to that precept of Christ, " Go ye and teach
all nations, baptizing them," &c. St. Paul, at
the beginning of this chapter, speaking of bap
tism, expresses the same sentiment. So also we
are to understand St. Peter, when he says, that
" the baptism which now saves us, is not the put
ting away the filth of the flesh, but the answer
of a good conscience." The answer of a good
conscience, is the rectitude of conduct, result
ing from the catechumen's knowledge and
faith. Hence they commonly gave the appel
lation of illuminated to a man after baptism.
" The washing of baptism," says Justin Martyr,
" is called illumination; because he who is in
structed in these mysteries, is enlightened."
Hence also the Syriac version, instead of en
lightened, as out reading which follows the
Greek, has rendered it baptized.

2. "They had tasted of the heavenly gift;"
that is, they had experienced the seren'ty of
that peace, which we feel when we no longer
fear the punishment of sin: having passed, if I
may so speak, the rigorous road of repentance,
into favour with God.

3. " They were made partakers of the Holy

330

ON THE NATURE OF

[SBR. LXXXIX.

Ghost, they had relished the good word of God,
and the powers of the world to come." All
these various expressions may be understood
of miracles performed in their presence, or
achieved by themselves. The Holy Ghost him
self has assumed this acceptation, in various
parts of the Scriptures, as in that remarkable
passage in the nineteenth chapter of the Acts,
"Have ye received the Holy Ghost?"— We
have not so much as heard, whether there be
any Holy Ghost. The good word, says Grotius,
is the promise of God, as in the twenty-ninth
of Jeremiah, " I will — perform my good word
towards you;" that is, my promise; and one of
the greatest promises made to the primitive
Christians, was the gift of miracles. " These
signs," says Jesus, "shall follow them that be
lieve; in my name they shall cast out devils,
they shall speak with tongues, they shall take
up serpents." In fine, "the powers of the
world to come," were, likewise, the prodigies
to be achieved during the gospel economy;
which the Jews call the age, or world to come;
prodigies elsewhere called, the " exceeding
greatness of his power, and the mighty work
ing of his power."

These are the endowments, with which the
persons in question were favoured; their crime
was apostacy. " It is impossible, if they fall
away, to renew them again unto repentance."

To fall away, does not characterize the state
of a man, who relapses, after having obtained
remission. How deplorable soever his situa
tion may be, it is not without resource. The
falling away in our text signifies a total defec
tion; and entire rejection of Jesus Christ, and
of his religion. The falling away, according
to St. Paul, in the ninth chapter of his epistle
to the Romans, marks the first stage of obdu
racy in the Jewish nation. But the falling
away in our text, is not only a rejection of
Christ, but a rejection after having known him:
it is not only to reject, but to outrage and per
secute him with malice and enmity of heart.
Here is all the information we can derive from
the text. The unpardonable sin, in these
words, is that of apostates; and such as we
have characterized in the preceding remarks.

This also is the genuine import of the tenth
chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews, " If we
sin wilfully, after having received the know
ledge of the truth," as would be easy to prove.

Now, if you have been attentive to all the
considerations we have just advanced: if you
have understood the explanations we have
given of the several texts, you may form a cor
rect idea of the unpardonable sin. You may
know what this crime was, at least, in the
time of the primitive church. It was denying,
hating, and maliciously opposing the truth, at
the moment they were persuaded it proceeded
from God. Two classes of men might commit
this crime in the apostolic age.

First, those who had never embraced Christi
anity; but opposed its progress in defiance of
rational conviction, and the dictates of con
science. This was the sin of the Pharisees,
who maliciously ascribed to the devil miracles,
which they knew could have God alone for
their author. '

Secondly, those who had embraced the gos
pel, who bad been baptized, who had received

the gift of miracles, and experienced all the
graces enumerated in the text. This was the
sin of those, who, after conversion, abjured the
truth, and pronounced against Jesus Christ the
anathemas which his enemies, and particularly
the Jews, required of apostates. These St.
Paul had in view, in the words of our text,
and in the tenth chapter of this epistle. Of this
St. John also spake, when he said, " there is a
sin unto death." Hence the sin described in
these three passages, and the sin against the
Holy Ghost, is the same in quality, if I may
so speak, though diversified in circumstances:
we have, consequently, comprised the whole un
der the vague appellation of unpardonable sin.
After these considerations, perhaps, you al
ready rejoice. This sermon, designed to in
spire the soul with sanctifying fear, has, per
haps, already contributed to flatter your secu
rity: you no longer see any thing in the text,
which affects your case; nor any thing in the
most disorderly life, connected with a crime,
peculiar to the primitive Christians. Let us
dissipate, if possible, so dangerous an illusion.
We have done little, by tracing the manner in
which the first witnesses of the gospel became
guilty of the unpardonable sin; we must also
inquire, what relation it may have to us.

In general, it is not possible to hear subjects
of -this nature discussed, without a variety of
questions revolving in the mind, and asking
one's self, have I not already committed this
sin? Does not such and such a vice, by which
I am captivated, constitute its essence? Or,
if I have never committed it yet, may I not
fall into it at a future period? It is but just,
brethren, to afford you satisfaction on points
so important. Never did we discuss more
serious questions; and we frankly acknowledge,
that all we have hitherto advanced, was merely
introductory to what we have yet to say; and
for which we require the whole of the attention,
with which you have favoured us.

Though truth is always the same, and never
j accommodates itself to the humours of an audi-
fence, it is an invariable duty to resolve these
questions according to the characters of the in-
I quirers. The questions amount in substance
I to this: Can a man in this age commit the un-
I pardonable sin? And, I assure you, they may
i be proposed from three principles, widely dif
ferent from each other: from a melancholy,
from a timorous, and a cautious disposition.
We shall diversify our solutions, conformably
I to this diversity of character.

1. One may make this inquiry through a
melancholy disposition; and mental derange
ment is an awful complaint. It is a disease
which corrupts the blood, stagnates the spirits,
and flags the mind. From the body, it quickly
communicates to the soul; it induces the suf
ferers to regard every object on the dark side;
to indulge phantoms, and cherish anguish,
which, excluding all consolation, wholly de
votes the mind to objects, by which it is alarmed
and tormented. A man of this disposition, on
examining his conscience, and reviewing his
! life, will draw his own character in the deepest
i colours. He will construe his weakness into
j wickedness, and his infirmities into crimes; he
\ will magnify the number, and aggravate the
i atrocity of his sins; he will class himself, in

SER. LXXXIX.]

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN.

331

short, with the worst of human characters.
And, our reasons for self-condemnation an
abasement before God, being always too wel
founded, the person in question, proceeding
on these principles, and mistaking the causes
of humiliation and repentance, for just subject
of horror and despair, readily believes himself
lost without resource, and guilty of the unpar
donable sin.

Without doubt, it is highly proper to reasor
with people of this description. We shoulc
endeavour to compose them, and enter into
their sentiments, in order to attack their argu
ments with more effect; but, after all, a man
so afflicted has more need, of a physician than
a minister, and of medicine than sermons. If
it is not a hopeless case, we must endeavour to
remove the complaint, by means which nature
and art afford; by air, exercise, and innocent
recreations. Above all, we must pray that
God would " cause the bones he has broken to
rejoice;" and that he would not abandon, to
the remorse and torments of the damned, souls
redeemed by the blood of his beloved Son, and
reconciled by his sacrifice.

2. This inquiry may also be made through
a timorous disposition. We distinguish timidity
from melancholy; the first being a disposition
of the mind, occasioned by the mistaken notions
we entertain of God and his word; the second,
of the body. The timorous man fixes his eye
on what the Scriptures say of the justice of
God, without paying adequate attention to
what is said of his mercy. He looks solely at
the perfection to which a Christian is called,
without ever regarding the leniency of the
gospel. Such a man, like the melancholy per
son, is readily induced to think himself guilty
of the unpardonable sin. Should he flatter
himself with not having yet perpetrated the
deed, he lives in a continual fear. This fear
may, indeed, proceed from a good principle,
and be productive of happy effects, in exciting
vigilance and care; but, if not incompatible with
the liberty of the children of God, it is at least
repugnant to the peace they may obtain; which
constitutes one of the sweetest comforts of re
ligion, and one of the most effectual motives
to conciliate the heart.

If a man of this description should ask me,
whether one may now commit the unpardon
able sin? I would repeat what I have just said,
that this sin, in all its circumstances, has pecu
liar reference to the miracles by which God
formerly confirmed the evangelical doctrine;
and consequently, to account himself at this
period guilty of the crime, is to follow the emo
tions of fear, rather than the conviction of ar
gument. I would compare the sin which
alarms his conscience, with that of the unhap
py man of whom we spake. I would prove
by this comparison, that the disposition of a
man, who utters blasphemy against Jesus
Christ, who makes open war with the profes
sors of his doctrine, has no resemblance to the
style of another, who sins with remorse and
contrition; who wrestles with the old man;
who sometimes conquers, and sometimes is
conquered: though he has sufficient cause from
his sin to perceive, that the love of God by no
means properly burns in his heart; he has,
however, encouragement from his victories, to

[ admit that it is not totally extinguished. I
would assist this man to enter more minutely
into his state; to consider the holy fears which
fill, the terrors which agitate, and the remorse
which troubles his heart; and in such a way as
to derive from the cause of his grief, motives
of consolation. We should never stretch our
subjects, nor divide what Jesus Christ has join
ed by a happy temperature. If you look sole
ly at the mercy of God, you will unavoidably
form excuses to flatter your security; if you
confine your regards to his justice, you will
fall into despair. It is this happy temperature
of severity and indulgence, of mercy and jus
tice, of hope and fear, which brings the soul of
a saint to permanent repose; it is this happy
temperature which constitutes the beauty of
religion, and renders it efficacious in the con
version of mankind. This should be our me
thod with persons of a doubtful disposition.

But wo unto us, if under the pretext of giv
ing the literal import of a text of Scripture,
we should conceal its general design; a design
equally interesting to Christians of every age
and nation, and which concerns you, my bre
thren, in a peculiar manner; wo unto us, if un
der a pretence of composing the conscience of
the timorous, we should afford the slightest en
couragement to the hardened, to flatter their
security, and confirm them in their obduracy
of heart.

3. This inquiry, — Whether we can now com
mit the unpardonable sin? — may likewise be
made on the ground of caution, and that we
may know the danger, only in order to avoid
it. Follow us in our reply.

We cannot commit this sin with regard to
the peculiar circumstances of those who lived
in the first ages of the church. This has been
proved, I think, by the preceding arguments;
no person having seen Jesus Christ work mira
cles, and, like the Pharisees, having called him
Beelzebub; nor has any one received the gift
of miracles, and afterwards denied the truth,
as those apostates, of whom we spake. But a
man may commit the crime, with regard to
what constitutes its essence, and its atrocity.
This also we hope to prove. For, I ask, what
onstituted the enormity of the crime? Was
it the miracles, simply considered? Or was it
the conviction and sentiments which ensued,
and which proceeded from the hearts of the
witnesses? Without a doubt it was the convic
tion and the sentiments, and not the miracles
and prodigies, separately considered, and with
out the least regard to their seeing them per-
brmed, or themselves being the workers. If
we shall, therefore, prove, that the efforts
which Providence now employs for the conver
sion of mankind, may convey to the mind the
same conviction, and excite the same senti
ments afforded to the witnesses of these mira-
les, shall we not consequently prove, that if
men now resist the gracious efforts of Provi-
lence, they are equally guilty as the ancients;
nd, of course, that which constitutes the es-
ence and atrocity of the unpardonable sin,
subsists at this period, as in the apostolic age.

1. A man, at this period, may sin against
the clearest light. Do not say that he cannot
sin against the same degree of light, which ir
radiated the primitive church. I allow that

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. LXXXIX.

none of you have seen the miracles performed
for the confirmation of our faith; but I will
venture to affirm, that there are truths as pal
pable, as if they had been confirmed by mira
cles; I will venture to affirm, that if they col
lect all the proofs we have of our Saviour's
mission, there will result a conviction to the
mind as clear, as that which resulted to the
Pharisees, on seeing the demoniac healed.

2. What constituted the atrocity of the crime
in the first ages, was attacking this religion,
whose evidence they had attested. This may
also be found among men of our own time. A
man, who is convinced that the Christian reli
gion was revealed from heaven; — a man who
doubts not, among all the religious connexions
m the Christian world, that to which he ad
heres is among the purest; — a man who aban
dons this religion; — a man who argues, who
disputes, who writes volume upon volume, to
vindicate his apostacy, and attacks those very
truths, whose evidence he cannot but perceive;
such a man has not committed the unpardona
ble sin in its whole extent; but he has so far
proceeded to attack the truths, of whose ve
racity he was convinced.

3. What farther constituted the atrocity of
the crime, was falling away; not by the fear
of punishment, not by the first charms Satan
presents to his proselytes, but by a principle of
hatred against truths, so restrictive of human
passions. This may also be found among men
of our own age. For example, a man who
mixes in our congregations, who reads our
books, who adheres to our worship; but who,
in his ordinary conversation, endeavours to
discredit those truths, to establish deism or im
piety, and abandons himself to this excess, be
cause he hates a religion which gives him in
quietude and pain, and wishes to expunge it
from every heart; this man has not committed
the unpardonable sin in all its extent, but he
has so far proceeded as to hate the truth.

4. What, lastly, rendered the crime atrocious
with regard to apostates, was their running to
this excess, after having tasted the happiness,
which the hope of salvation produces in the
soul. This may, likewise, be found among
Christians of our own age. For example a
temporary professor; — a man (to avail myself
of an expression of Jesus Christ) who " receives
the word with joy;" — a man, who has long
prayed with fervour, who has communicated
with transports of delight; — a man of this de
scription, who forgets all these delights, who
resists all these attractive charms, and sacri
fices them to the advantages offered by a false
religion; he has not yet committed the unpar
donable sin, but he surely has the characteris
tic " of falling away, after having been once
enlightened, and tasted of the heavenly gift.'1

You now perceive, my brethren, that all
these characteristics may be found separately
among men of our own age. But should there
be a man in whom they all unite; a man who
has known and abjured the truth; who has not
only abjured, but opposed and persecuted it,
not in a moment of surprise, and at the sight
of racks and tortures, but from a principle of
enmity and hatred; do you not think he would
have just cause to fear, that he had committed
the " unpardonable sin."

To collect the whole in two words, and in a
yet shorter way to resolve the question, " Is it
possible now to commit the unpardonable sin?"
I answer: We cannot commit it with regard
to every circumstance; but, in regard to what
constitutes its essence and atrocity, it may be
committed; and though men seldom fall so
deeply, yet it is not impossible. Few com
plete the crime; but many commit it in part,
and in degree. Some imagine themselves to
be guilty by an ill-founded fear; but a much
greater number are daily going the awful road,
and, through an obstinate security, unperceiv-
ed. They ought, of course, to reject the
thought of having proceeded to that excess;
but, at the same time, to take precaution, that,
in the issue, the dreadful period may never
come, which is nearer, perhaps, than they im
agine.

APPLICATION.

What effects shall the truths we have de
livered, produce on your minds? Shall they
augment your pride, excite vain notions of
your virtue, and suggest an apology for vice,
because you cannot, in the portrait we have
given, recognise your own character? Is your
glory derived from the consideration, that your
depravity has not attained the highest pitch,
and that there yet remains one point of horror,
at which you have not arrived? Will you suf
fer the wounds to corrode your heart, under
the notions that they are not desperate, and
there is still a remedy? And do you expect to
repent, and to ask forgiveness, when repent
ance is impracticable; and when all access to
mercy is cut off?

But who among our hearers can be actuated
by so great a frenzy? What deluded conscience
can enjoy repose under a pretext, that it has
not yet committed the unpardonable sin? —
Whence is it, after all, that this crime is so
dreadful? All the reasons which may be as
signed, terminate here, as in their centre, that
it precipitates the soul into hell. But is not
.hell the end of every sin? There is this differ
ence, it must be observed, between the unpar
donable sin, and other sins, that he who com
mits it is lost without resource; whereas, after
other sins, we have a sure remedy in conver
sion. But, in all cases, a man must repent,
reform and become a new creature; for we
find in religion, what we find in the human
body, some diseases quite incurable, and others
which may be removed with application and
care: but they have both the similarity of be
coming incurable by neglect; and what, at
first, was but a slight indisposition, becomes
mortal by presumption and delay.

Besides, there are few persons among us, —
there are few monsters in nature, — capable of
carrying wickedness, all at once, to the point
we have described. But how many are there
who walk the awful road, and who attain to
it by degrees? They do not arrive, in a mo
ment, at the summit of impiety. The first es
says of the sinner, are not those horrid traits
which cause nature to recoil. A man educated
in the Christian religion, does not descend, all
at once, from the full lustre of truth, to the
profoundest darkness. His fault, at first, was
I mere detraction; thence he proceeded to negli-

SER. LXXXIX.]

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN.

333

gence; thence to vice; next he stifles remorse;
and, lastly, proceeds to the commission of enor
mous crimes: so he who, in the beginning,
trembled at the thought of a weakness, be
comes insensible of the foulest deeds, and of a
conduct the most atrocious.

There is one reflection with which you can
not be too much impressed, in an age in which
Jesus Christ approaches us with his light, with
his Spirit, and with all the advantages of the
evangelical economy; that is, concerning the
awful consequences of not improving these
privileges, according to their original design.
You rejoice to live in the happy age, which
"so many kings and prophets have desired to
see." You have reason so to do. But you re
joice in these privileges, while each of you
persist in a favourite vice, and a predomi
nant habit; and because you are neither Jews
nor heathens, you expect to find, in religion,
means to compose a conscience, abandoned
to every kind of vice: this is a most extraor
dinary, and almost general prejudice among
Christians. But this light, in which you re
joice, — this Christianity, by which you are dis
tinguished, — this faith, which constitutes your
glory, will aggravate your condemnation, if
your lives continue unreformed. The Phari
sees were highly favoured by seeing Jesus
Christ in the flesh, by attesting his miracles,
and hearing the wisdom which descended from
his lips; but these were the privileges which
caused their sin to be irremissible. The He
brews were happy by being enlightened, by
tasting of the heavenly gift, and the powers
of the evangelical economy; but this happi
ness, on their falling away, rendered their loss
irreparable.

Apply this thought to the various means,
which Providence affords for your conversion;
and think what effect it must produce on your
preachers. It suspends our judgment, and ties
our hands, if I may so speak, in the exercise of
our ministry. We are animated at the sight of
the blessing which the gospel brings; but, when
we contemplate the awful consequences on
those who resist, we are astonished and appalled.

Must we wilfully exclude the light? What
effects have the efforts of Providence produced
upon you? What account can you give of the
numerous privileges with which Heaven has
favoured you? Think not that we take pleasure
in declamations, and in drawing frightful por
traits of your conduct. Would to God that our
preaching were so received, and so improved,
as to change our censures into applause, and all
our strictures into approbation. But charity is
never opposed to experience. So many ex
hortations, so many entreaties, so many affec
tionate warnings, so many pathetic sermons, so
many instructions, so many conflicts to save you
from vice, leave the proud in his pride, the im
placable in his hatred, the fashionable woman
in full conformity to the world, and every other
in his predominating sin. What line of conduct
shall we consequently adopt' Shall we con
tinue to enforce the truth, to press the duties of
morality; and to trace the road of salvation, in
which you refuse to walk? We have already
said, that these privileges will augment your
loss, and redouble the weight of your chains.
Must we shut up these churches? Must we

overturn these pulpits? Must we exile these
pastors? And making that the object of our
prayer, which ought to be our justest cause of
fear, must we say, Lord, take away thy word;
take away thy Spirit; and remove thy candle
stick; lest, receiving too large a portion of grace,
we should augment the account we have to
give, and render our punishment more intole
rable.

But why abandon the soul to so tragical a
thought? Lord, continue with us these precious
pledges " of thy loving-kindness, which is bet
ter than life," and give us a new heart. It is
true, my brethren, a thousand objects indicate,
that you will persist in impiety. But I know
not what sentiment flatters us, that you are
about to renounce it. These were St. Paul's
sentiments concerning the Hebrews: he saw the
efforts of the world to draw them from the faith,
and the almost certain fall of some; in the mean
time he hoped, and by an argument of charity,
that the equity of God would be interested to
prevent their fall. He hoped farther; he hoped
to see an event of consolation. Hence he
opened to the Hebrews the paths of tribulation
in which they walked with courage. He called
to their remembrance so many temptations re
futed, so many enemies confounded, so many
conflicts sustained, so many victories obtained,
so many trophies of glory already prepared; and
proposing himself for a model, he animated
them by the idea of what they had already
achieved, and by what they had yet to do.
" Call to remembrance," says he, "the former
days, in which ye endured so great a fight of
afflictions, partly whilst you were made a ga-
zing-stock, both by reproaches and afflictions,
and partly whilst ye became companions of
them that were so used. Cast not away, there
fore, your confidence, which hath great recom
pense of reward," Heb. x. 32, 33. 35. We ad
dress the like exhortation to each of our hearers.
We remind you of whatever is most to be ad
mired in your life, though weak and imperfect,
the communions you have celebrated, the pray
ers you have offered to Heaven, the tears of
repentance already shed.

And you, my brethren, my dear brethren,
and honoured countrymen, I call to your recol
lection, as St. Paul to the Hebrews, the earth
strewed with the bodies of your martyrs, and
stained with your blood; — the desert populated
with your fugitives; — the places of your nativity
desolated; — your tenderest ties dissolved;— your
prisoners in chains, and confessors in irons; —
your houses rased to the foundation; and the
precious remains of your shipwreck scattered on
all the shores of Christendom. Oh! " Let us
not cast away our confidence, which hath great
recompense of reward." Let not so many con
flicts be lost; let us never forsake this Jesus to
whom we are devoted; but let us daily augment
the ties which attach us to his communion.

If these are your sentiments, fear neither the
terrors nor anathemas of the Scriptures. As
texts the most consolatory have an awful aspect
to them who abuse their privileges, so passages
the most terrific, have a pleasing aspect to those
who obey the calls of grace. The words we
have explained are of this kind; for the apostle
speaking of a certain class of sinners, who can
not be " renewed again unto repentance," irn-

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[SER. XC.

plies thereby, that all other sinners, of what
soever kind, may be renewed. Let us therefore
repent. Let us break these hearts. Let us
soften these stones. Let us cause floods of tears
to issue from the dry and barren rocks. And
after we have passed through the horrors of re-

C stance, let our hearts rejoice in our salvation,
t us banish all discouraging fears. Let us
pay the homage of confidence to a merciful God,
never confounding repentance with despair.
Repentance honours the Deity; despair de
grades him. Repentance adores his goodness;
despair suppresses one of his brightest beams of
glory. Repentance follows the example of
saints; despair confounds the human kind with
demons. Repentance ascribes to the blood of
the Redeemer of the world its real worth; de
spair accounts it "an unholy thing." Let us
enter into these reflections; let this day be
equally the triumph of repentance over the hor
rors of sin, and the triumph of grace over the
anguish of repentance. God grant us this grace;
to him, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be honour
and glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON XC.

ON THE SORROW FOR THE DEATH
OF RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

1 THESS. iv. 13 — 18.

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren,
concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow
not even as others which have no hope. For if
we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even
so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring
with him. For this we say unto you by the
word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and
remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not
prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord
himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
with the voice of the archangel, and ivith the
trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise
first: then ive which are alive and remain, shall
be caught up together with them in the clouds/
to meet the Lord in the air : and so shall we ever
be with the Lord. Wliercfore, comfort one ano
ther with these words.

THE text we have now read, may, perhaps,
be contemplated under two very different points
of view. The interpreter must here discover
his acumen, and the preacher display his pow
ers. It is a difficult text; it is one of the most
difficult in all the epistles of St. Paul. I have
strong reasons for believing, that it is one of
those St. Peter had in view, when he says,
" that there are some things in the writings of
St. Paul, hard to be understood, which they
that are unlearned wrest — to their own destruc
tion," 2 Pet. iii. 16. In this respect it requires
the erudition of the interpreter: It is a text fer
tile ki instructions for our conduct: it illustrates
the sentiments with which we should be inspired
in all the afflictive circumstances through which
Providence may call us to pass in this valley of
misery, I would say, when called to part with
those who constitute the joy of our life. In this
respect it requires the eloquence of the preacher.
In attending to both those points, bring the dis
positions without which you cannot derive the

advantages we design. Have patience with the
interpreter, though he may not be able fully to
elucidate every inquiry you may make on a sub
ject obscure, singular, and in some respects im
penetrable. Open also the avenues of your
heart to the preacher. Learn to support sepa
rations; for which you should congratulate your
selves, when they break the ties which united
you to persons unworthy of your love; and
which shall not be eternal, if those called away
by death were the true children of God. May
the anguish of the tears shed for their loss, be
assuaged by the hope of meeting them in the
same glory.

We have said that this text is difficult; and
it is really so in four respects. The first arises
from the doubtful import of some of the terms
in which it is couched. The second arises from
its reference to certain notions peculiar to Chris
tians in the apostolic age, and which to us are
imperfectly known. The third is, that it re
volves on certain mysteries, in'regard of which
the Scriptures are not very explicit, and of
which inspired men had but an imperfect know
ledge. The fourth is the dangerous conse
quences it seems to involve; because by restrict
ing the knowledge of the sacred authors, it
seems to level a blow at their inspiration. Here
is an epitome of all the difficulties which can
contribute to encumber a text with difficulties.

I. The first is the least important, and cannot
arrest the attention of any, but those who are
less conversant than you, with the Scriptures.
You have comprehended, I am confident, that
by those who sleep, we understand those who
are dead; and by those who sleep in the Lord,
we understand those in general who have died
in the faith, or in particular those who have
sealed it by martyrdom. The sacred authors
in adopting, have sanctified the style of pagan
ism. The most ordinary shield the pagans op
posed to the fear of death, was to banish the
thought, and to avoid pronouncing its name.
But as it is not possible to live on earth without
being obliged to talk of dying, they accommo
dated their necessity to their delicacy, and pa
raphrased what they had so great a reluctance
to name by the ' softer terms of a departure, a
submission, destiny, and a sleep. — Fools! as
though to change the name of a revolting ob
ject would diminish its horror. The sacred au
thors, as I have said, in adopting this style, have
sanctified it. They have called death a sleep,
by which they understand a repose: " Blessed
are the dead which die in the Lord; for they
rest from their labours," Rev. xiv. 13. In
adopting the term, they had a special regard to
the resurrection which shall follow. If the
terms require farther illustration, they shall be
incorporated in what we shall say when dis
cussing the subjects.

II. We have said, that this text is difficult,
because it refers to certain notions peculiar to
Christians in the apostolic age, which to us are
imperfectly known. The allusion of ancient
authors to the peculiar notions of their time,
is a principal cause of the obscurity of their
writings; it embarrasses the critics, and often
obliges them to confess their inadequacy to the
task. It is astonishing that the public should
refuse to interpreters of the sacred books, the
liberty they so freely grant to those of profane

SER. XC.]

RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

335

authors. Why should a species of obscurity,
which has never degraded Plato, or Seneca, in
duce us to degrade St. Paul, and other inspired
men? But how extraordinary soever, in this
respect, the conduct of the enemies of our sacred
books may be, it is not at all astonishing; but
there is cause to be astonished at those divines
who would he frequently relieved by the solu
tion of which we speak, that they should lose
sight of it in their systems, and so often seek
for theological mysteries in expressions which
simply require the illustration of judicious cri
ticism. On how many allusions of the class in
question, have not doctrines of faith been esta
blished? " Let him who readeth understand."
We will not disturb the controversy.

We have said that there is in the words of
the text, probably some allusion to notions pe
culiar to the apostolic age. St. Paul not only
designed to assuage the anguish excited in the
breast of persons of fine feelings by the death
of their friends; he seems to have had a pecu
liar reference to the Thessalonians. The proof
we have of this is, that the apostle not merely
enforces the general arguments that Chris
tianity affords to all good men in those afflic
tive situations, such as the happiness which in
stantly follows the death of saints, and the
certainty of a glorious resurrection: he super-
adds a motive wholly of another kind; this
motive, which we shall now explain, is thus ex
pressed: " We which are alive and remain at
the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them
which are asleep," &c.

What might there be in the opinion, pecu
liar to the Christians of that age, which could
thereby assuage their anguish? Among the
conjectures it has excited, this appears to me
the most rational; — it was a sentiment gene
rally received in the apostolic, age, and from
which we cannot say that the apostles them
selves were wholly free, that the last day was
just at hand. Two considerations might have
contributed to establish this opinion.

The ancient Rabbins had affirmed, that the
second temple would not long subsist after the
advent of the Messiah; and believing that the
Levitical worship should be coeval with the
world, they believed likewise that the resur
rection of the dead, and the consummation
of the ages, would speedily follow the coming
of Christ. Do not ask how they reconciled
those notions with the expectation of the Mes
siah's temporal kingdom; we know that the
Rabbinical systems are but little connected;
and inconsistency is not peculiar to them.

But secondly; the manner in which Jesus
Christ had foretold the destruction of Jerusa
lem, might have contributed to persuade the
first Christians, that the last day was near. He
had represented it in the prophetic style, as a
universal dissolution of nature, and of the ele
ments. In that day " the sun shall be darken
ed; the moon shall be turned to blood; the
stars shall fall from heaven; the powers of hea
ven shall be shaken; and the Son of man him
self as coming on the clouds, and sending his
angels with the sound of a trumpet to gather
together his elect from the four winds," Matt,
xxiv. 29. 31. These oriental figures, whereby
he painted the extirpation of the Jewish na-

cerning which St. Paul has the words of the
Psalmist, "That their sound went forth to the
ends of the earth:" these ideas had persuaded
many of the primitive Christians, that the
coming of the Messiah, the destruction of Je
rusalem, and the end of the world, must follow
one another in speedy succession; and, the
more so, as the Lord had subjoined to those
predictions, that " this generation should not
pass away until all these things be fulfilled;"
that is, the men then alive. This text is of the
same import with that in the xvith of St. Mat
thew: " Verily I say unto you, there be some
standing here which shall not taste of death
till they see the Son of man coming in his
kingdom," ver. 28.

These are the considerations which induced
many of the first Christians to believe that the
last day would soon come. And as the Lord,
the more strikingly to represent the surprise
that the last day would excite in men, had
compared it to the approach of a thief at mid
night, the primitive Christians really thought
that Jesus Christ would come at midnight;
hence some of them rose at that hour to await
his coming, and St. Jerome relates a custom,
founded on apostolic tradition, of never dis
missing the people before midnight during the
vigils of Easter.

But what should especially be remarked for
illustration of the difficulty proposed, is, that
the idea of the near approach of Christ's ad
vent, was so very far from exciting terror in
the minds of the primitive Christians, that it
constituted the object of their hope. They re
gard it as the highest privilege of a Christian
to behold his advent. The hope of this happi
ness had inflamed some with an ardour for
martyrdom; and induced to deplore the lot of
those who had died before that happy period.

This is the anguish the apostle would as
suage when he says, " I would not have you
ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are
asleep, that ye sorrow not as others;" that is,
as the heathens, who have no hope.

III. But the consolation he gives, to comfort
the afflicted, constitutes one of the difficulties
in my text, because it is founded on a doctrine
concerning which the Scriptures are not very
explicit, and of which inspired men had but
imperfect knowledge. This is the third point
to be illustrated.

The consolation St. Paul gave the Thessa
lonians, must be explained in a way assortable
to their affliction, and drawn from the reasons
that induced them to regret the death of the
martyrs, as being deprived of the happiness
those would have who shall be alive, when
Christ should descend from heaven to judge
the world. St. Paul replies, that those who
should then survive, would not have any pre
rogative over those that slept, and that both
should enjoy the same glory: this, in substance,
is the sense of the words which constitute the
third difficulty we would wish to remove.
" This we say unto you, by the word of the
Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto
the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent
them which are asleep. For the Lord himself
shall descend from heaven with a shout, with
the voice of the archangel, and with the trump

tion, and the preaching of the apostles, con- i of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:

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[SER. XC.

then we which are alive and remain, shall be
caught up together with them in the clouds,
to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we
ever be with the Lord." Concerning these
words various questions arise, which require
illustration.

1. What did St. Paul mean when he affirm
ed, that what he said was by the word of the
Lord? You will understand it by comparing
the expression with those of the first epistle to
the Corinthians, chap. xv. 51, where, discuss
ing the same subject, he speaks thus: " Behold
I show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep,
but we shall be changed." These words, " Be
hold I show you a mystery," and those of my
text, are of the same import. Properly to un
derstand them, let it be observed, that besides
the gift of inspiration, by which the sacred au
thors knew and taught the things essential to
salvation, there was one peculiar to some pri
vileged Christians; it was a power to penetrate
certain secrets, without which they might be
saved, but which, nevertheless, was a glorious
endowment wherever conferred. Probably St.
Paul spake of this privilege, when enumerat
ing the gifts communicated to the primitive
church, in the xiith chapter of the above epis-
tie. " To one," he 'says, " is given by the same
Spirit, the word of knowledge." This word
of knowledge, he distinguishes from another,
called just before, "The word of wisdom."
The like distinctions occur chap, xiiith and
xivth, in the same epistle. Learned men, who
think that by the word of wisdom, we must
understand inspiration, think also, that by
" the word of knowledge," we must under
stand an acquaintance with the mysteries of
which I have spoken. Many mysteries are
mentioned in the sacred writings. The mys
tery of the restoration of the Jews; the mys
tery of iniquity; and the mystery of the beast.
The passages to which I allude are known to
you, and time does not allow me to enlarge,
nor even a full recital.

2. Why does St. Paul, when speaking of
those who shall be found on earth when Christ
shall descend from heaven, add, " We which
are alive, and remain at the coming of the
Lord?" Did he flatter himself to be of that
number? Some critics have thought so: and
when pressed by those words in the second
Epistle to Timothy, " The time of my depar
ture is at hand; I am ready to be offered up;"
they have replied, that St. Paul had changed
his ideas, and divested himself of the illusive
hope that he should never die!

But how many arguments might I not adduce
to refute this error, if it required refutation,
and did not refute itself? How should St. Paul,
who had not only the gift of inspiration, but
who declared that what he said was by the
word of the Lord, or according to his miracu
lous gift, fall into so great a mistake in speak
ing on this subject? How do they reconcile
this presumption with what he says of the re
surrection in his epistles, written prior to this,
from which we have taken our text? Not to
multiply arguments, there are some texts in
which St. Paul seems to class himself with
those who shall rise, seeing he says " we." Let
us next attend to that in the second Epistle
to the Corinthians: God, " who raised up the

Lord Jesus, shall raise up us also," chap. iv.
14. But in my text he seems to associate him
self in the class of those who shall not be rais
ed, being alive when Christ shall descend from
heaven; "we that are alive, and remain at the
coming of the Lord." Emphasis, then, should
not be laid on the pronoun we, it signifies, in
general, those who; and it ought to be explain
ed, not by its general import, but by the nature
of the things to which it is applied, which do
not suffer us to believe, that the apostle here
meant to designate himself, as I think is proved.

3. In what respects does St. Paul prove, that
those who die before the advent of the Son of
God, shall not thereby retard their happiness;
and that those who shall then survive, shall
not enjoy earlier than they the happiness with
which the Saviour shall invest them?

The apostle proves it from the supremacy of
Christ at the consummation of the age. The
instant he shall descend from heaven, he shall
awake the dead by his mighty voice. The bo
dies of the saints shall rise, and the bodies of
those that are alive shall be purified from their
natural encumbrance, according to the asser
tion of St. Paul, already adduced; " we shall
not all sleep, but we shall be changed." And
it must also be remarked, that this change, he
adds, shall be made "in a moment, in the
twinkling of an eye;" that is, immediately on
the coming of Jesus Christ: and after this
change, the saints who shall rise, and those
who shall be yet alive, shall be caught up to
gether to meet the Lord in the air, and shall be
for ever with the Lord. The survivors, there
fore, shall have no prerogative over others; so
is the sense of the text: "We which are alive
and remain at the coming of the Lord shall
not prevent them which are asleep. For the
Lord shall descend from heaven with a shout,"
like that of sailors to excite to unity of labour,
as is implied by the Greek term, " with the
voice of the archangel, and the trumpet of
God;" I would say, with the most vehement
shout; for in the sacred style, a thing angelic,
Angelical, or divine, is a thing which excels in
its kind: " The Lord shall descend, and the
dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we who
are alive and remain, shall be caught up toge
ther with them in the clouds."

But this is a very extraordinary kind of con
solation: St. Paul still left the Thessalonians
in their old mistake, that some of them should
still live to see the last day; why did he not
undeceive them? Why did he not say, to con
sole them in their trouble, that the consumma
tion of the ages was, as yet, a very distant pe
riod; and that the living and the dead should
rise on the same day! This is the fourth, and
most considerable difficulty in the words of my
text.

IV. The apostles seem to have been igno
rant whether the end of the world should hap
pen in their time, or whether it should be at
the distance of many ages; and it seems that
by so closely circumscribing the knowledge of
inspired men, we derogate from their claims
of inspiration. — A whole dissertation would
scarcely suffice to remove this difficulty; I
shall content myself with opening the sources
of its solution.

1. Ignorance of one truth is unconnected

SER. XL.]

RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

337

with the revelation of another truth; I would
say, it does not follow that the Holy Spirit has
not revealed certain things to sacred authors,
because he has not revealed them to others.
We are assured he did not acquaint them with
the epoch of the consummation of the ages.
This epoch was not only concealed from the
apostles, but also from Jesus Christ considered
as a man; hence when speaking of the last day,
he said, that neither the angels in heaven, nor
even the Son of man, knew when it should
occur, the secret being reserved with God
alone, Mark xiii. 32.

2. Though the apostles might be ignorant
of the final period of the world, though they
might have left the Christians of their own age
in the presumption that they might survive to
the end of the world, the point however they
have left undetermined. The texts which seem
repugnant to what I say, regard the destruc
tion of Jerusalem, and not the day of judgment;
but it is not possible to examine them here in
support of what I assert.

3. But though the apostles were ignorant
of the final period of the world, they were con
fident, however, that it should not come till
the prophecies, respecting the destiny of the
church, were accomplished. This is suggested
by St. Paul in his second Epistle to the Thes-
salonians: " Now, we beseech you, brethren,
by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and
by our gathering together unto him, that ye
be not soon shaken in your mind," or troubled,
"neither by spirit, nor by word, nor by letter,
as from us, as though the day of Christ was at
hand. Let no man deceive you in any way
whatever; for the day of the Lord shall not
come until the revolt shall have previously
happened, and till that man of sin, the son of
perdition, shall be revealed," chap. ii.

4. In fine, the apostles leaving the question
undecided respecting the final period of the
world; a question not essential to salvation,
have determined the points of which we can
not be ignorant in order to be saved; I would
say, the manner in which men should live to
whom this period was unknown. They have
drawn conclusions the most just and certain
from the uncertainty in which those Christians
were placed. They have inferred, that the
church being ignorant of the day in which
Christ shall come to judge the world, should
be always ready for that event. But brevity
obliges me to suppress the texts whence the
inferences are deduced.

II. Having sufficiently discharged the duties
of the critic, I proceed to those of the preacher.
Taking the words of St. Paul in all their ex
tent, we see the sentiments with which we
should be animated when called to survive our
dearest friends, which we shall now discuss.

St. Paul does not condemn all sorts of sor- !
row occasioned by the loss of those we love; he |
requires only that Christians should not be in- j
consolable in these circumstances, as those who '
have no hope. Hence, there is both a criminal j
and an innocent sorrow. The criminal sorrow
is that which confounds us with those who are
destitute of hope; but the innocent sorrow is
compatible with the Christian hope. On these
points we shall enter into some detail.

First. The sorrow occasioned to us by the j
VOL. II.— 43

death of those we love, confounds us with those
that have no hope, when it proceeds from a
principle of distrust. Such is sometimes our
situation on earth, that all our good devolves
on a single point. A house rises to affluence;
it acquires a rank in life; it is distinguished by
equipage; and all its elevation proceeds from a
single head: this head is the mover of all its
springs: he is the protector, the father, and
friend of all: this head is cut down: this father,
protector, and friend, expires; and by that single
stroke, all our honours, rank, pleasures, afflu
ence, and enjoyments of life, seem to descend
with him to the tomb. At this stroke nature
groans, the flesh murmurs, and faith also is
obscured; the soul is wholly absolved in its ca
lamities, and contemplating its own loss in that
of others, concentrates itself in anguish. Hence
those impetuous passions; hence these mourn
ful and piercing cries; hence those Rachels,
who will not be comforted because their chil
dren are no more. Hence those extravagant
portraits of past happiness, those exaggerations
of present evils, and those gloomy augurs of
the future. Hence those furious bowlings,
and frightful distortions, in the midst of which
it would seem that we were called rather as
exorcists to the possessed, than to administer
balm to afflicted minds.

It is not difficult to vindicate the judgment
we have formed of the grief proceeding from
this principle. When the privation of a tem
poral good casts into despair, it was obviously
the object of our love; a capital crime in the
eye of religion. The most innocent connex
ions of life cease to be innocent when they
become too strongly cemented. To fix one's
heart upon an object, to make it our happiness
and the object of our hope, is to constitute it
a god; is to place it on the throne of the Su
preme, and to form it into an idol. Whether
it be a father, or a husband, or a child, which
renders us idolaters, idolatry is not the less odi
ous in the eyes of God, to whom supreme de
votion is due. Religion requires that our
strongest passion, our warmest attachment,
and our firmest support, should ever have God
for their object; and being only in the life to
come that we shall be perfectly joined to God,
religion prohibits the making of our happiness
to consist in the good things of this life. And
though religion should not dictate a duty so
just, common prudence should supply its place;
it should induce us to place but a submissive
attachment on objects of transient good. It
should say, " Let those that have wives be as
though they have none; and they that weep,
as though they wept not; and they that rejoice,
as though they rejoiced not; and they that use
this world, as though they used it not, for the
fashion of this world passeth away. — Put not
your trust in princes, nor in great men, in whom
there is no help: his soul goeth forth, he return-
eth to the earth, and in that very day his pur
poses perish," 1 Cor. vii. 29; Ps. cxlvi. 3, 4.

Hence, when driven to despair by the occur
rence of awful events, we have cause to form
a humiliating opinion of our faith. These
strokes of God's hand are the tests whereby he
tries our faith in the crucible of tribulation, ac
cording to the apostle's idea, 1 Pet. i. 7.
When in affluence and prosperity, it is difficult

338

ON THE SORROW FOR THE DEATH OF

[SEE. XC

to determine whether it be love for the gift,
or the giver, which excites our devotion. It
is in the midst of tribulation that we can recog
nise a genuine zeal, and a conscious piety.
When our faith abandons us in the trying hour,
it is an evident proof that we had taken a chi
mera for a reality, and the shadow for the sub
stance. Submission and hope are the charac
teristics of a Christian.

The example of the father of the faithful
here occurs to our view. If ever a mortal had
cause to fix his hopes on any object, it was un
doubtedly this patriarch. Isaac was the son
of the promise; Isaac was a miracle of grace;
Isaac was a striking figure of the blessed Seed,
in whom all the nations of the earth were to be
blessed. God commanded him to sacrifice this
son; who then had ever stronger reasons to be
lieve that his hopes were lost? But what did
Abraham do? He submitted, he hoped. He
submitted; he left his house; he took his son;
he prepared the altar; he bound the innocent
victim; he raised his arm; he was ready to dip
his paternal hands in blood, and to plunge the
knife into the bosom of this dear son. But in
submitting, he hoped, he believed. How did
he hope? He hoped against hope. How did
he believe? He believed what was incredible,
rather than persuade himself that his fidelity
would be fatal, and that God would be defi
cient in his promise; he believed that God
would restore his son by a miracle, having
given him by a miracle; and that this son, the
unparalleled fruit of a dead body, should be
raised in a manner unheard of. Believers,
here is your father. If you are the children
of Abraham, do the works of Abraham. I say
again, that submission and hope are the marks
of a Christian. " In the mountains of the Lord
he will there provide. For the mountains shall
depart, and the hills be removed; yet my kind
ness shall not depart from thee; neither shall
the covenant of my peace be removed. But
Zion said, The Lord hath forsaken me; and
my Lord hath forgotten me. Can a woman
forget her sucking-child, that she should not*
have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea,
they may forget, yet will not I forsake thee.
When my father and mother forsake me, the
Lord will take me up. Though thou slay me,
yet will I trust in thee," Isa. xlix. 14; liv. 10;
Ps. xxvii. 10; Job xiii. 15.

II. We have reprobated the afHictioH of
which despondency is the principle. A man
judges of the happiness of others, by the notion
of his own happiness; and estimating life as the
supreme good, he regards the person deprived
of it, as worthy of the tenderest compassion.
Death presents itself to us under the image of
a total privation. The deceased seems to us
to be stripped of every comfort. Had he, by
some awful catastrophe, lost his fortune; had
he lost his sight, or one of his limbs, we should
have sympathized in his affliction; with how
much more propriety ought we to weep, when
he has been deprived of all those comforts at a
stroke, and fatally sentenced to live no more?
This sorrow is appropriate to those who are
destitute of hope. This is indisputable, when
it has for its object those who have finished a
Christian course; and it is on these occasions
more than any other, we are obliged to confess

that most Christians draw improper consequen
ces, and act in a manner wholly opposed to
the faith they profess. We believe the soul to
be immortal; we are confident at the moment
of a happy death that the soul takes its flight
to heaven; and that the angels who are en
camped around it for protection and defence,
carry it to the bosom of God. We have seen
the living languish and sigh, and reach forth
to the moment of their deliverance; and when
they attain to this moment, we class them
among the unhappy! Was I not right in say
ing, that there are no occasions on which
Christians reason worse than on these, and act
more directly opposite to the faith they pro
fess? While the deceased were with us in this
valley of tears, they were subject to many com
plaints. While running a race so arduous,
they complained of being liable to stumble.
They complained of the calamities of the
church in which they were entangled. They
complained when meditating on revelation that
they found impenetrable mysteries; and when
aspiring at perfection, they saw it placed in so
exalted a view, as to be but imperfectly attain
ed. But now they are afflicted no more; now
they see God face to face; now they " are come
to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God,
to the heavenly Jerusalem, to the myriads of
angels, to the assembly of the first-born."
Now, as the Holy Spirit has said, " Blessed
are the dead which die in the Lord; for they
rest from their labours, and their works do fol
low them," Heb. xii. 22; Ps. xvi. 11; Rev.
xiv. 13.

These remarks concern those only who die
the death of the righteous: but should not piety
indulge her tears, when we see those die im
penitent to whom we are joined by the ties of
nature; and shall we call that a criminal sor
row when it is the death of reprobates which
excite our grief? Is there any kind of comfort
against this painful thought, that my son is
dead in an unregenerate state? And can any
sorrow be immoderate which is excited by the
loss of a soul? This is the question we were
wishful to illustrate, when we marked, in the
third place, as a criminal sorrow, that which
proceeds from a mistaken piety.

III. We answer first, that nothing is more
presumptive than to decide on the eternal loss
of men; and that we must not limit the extent
of the divine mercy, and the ways of Provi
dence. A contrite heart may, perhaps, be con
cealed under the exterior of reprobation; and
the religion which enjoins us to live in holy
fear of our own salvation, ever requires that
we should presume charitably concerning the
salvation of others.

But people are urgent, and being unable to
find any mitigation in a doubtful case, against
which a thousand circumstances seem to mili
tate, they ask whether one ought to moderate
the anguish excited by the eternal loss of one
they love? The question is but too necessary
in this unhappy age, where we see so great a
number of our brethren die in apostacy, and in
which the lives of those who surround us afford
so just a ground of awful apprehensions, con
cerning their salvation.

I confess it would be unreasonable to censure
tears in a situation so afflictive; I confess that

SER. XC.]

RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

339

one has need of an extraordinary confidence to
repress excess, and that an ordinary piety is in
adequate to the task. I contend, however, that
religion forbids, even in this case, to sorrow
above measure. Two remarks shall make it
manifest; aod we entreat those whom God has
struck in this sensible manner, to impress them
deeply on their mind.

1. Our grief really proceeds from a carnal
principle, and our heart disguises itself from its
own judgment, when it apparently suggests
that religion is the cause. If it were simply
the idea of the loss of the soul; if it were a
principle of love to God, and if it were not the
relations of father and son; in a word, if the
motives were altogether spiritual, and the
charity wholly pure, which excites our grief,
whence is it that this one object should excite
it, while so great a multitude of unhappy men
are precisely in a similar case? Whence is it
that we see daily, without anxiety, whole na
tions running headlong to perdition? Is it less
dishonourable to God, that those multitudes
are excluded from his covenant, than because
it is precisely your friend, your son, or your
father?

Our second remark is, that the love we have
for the creature should always conform itself
with the Creator. We ought to love our neigh
bours, because like us they bear the image of
God, and they are called with us to the same
glory. On this principle, when we see a sinner
wantonly rush on the precipice, and risking
salvation by his crimes, our charity ought to
be alarmed. Thus Jesus Christ, placing him
self in the period in which grace was still offer
ed to Jerusalem, and in which she might ac
cept it, groaned beneath her hardness, and de
plored the abuse she made of his entreaties;
" O that thou hadst known, at least in this thy
day, the things that belong to thy peace,"
Luke xix. 42. But when a man becomes the
avowed enemy of God, when a protracted
course of vice, and a final perseverance in
crimes, convinces that he has no part in his
covenant, then our love should return to its
centre, and associate itself with the love of our
Creator. " Henceforth know we no man after
the flesh. I hate them with a perfect hatred.
If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let
him be anathema. If any man love father,
mother, son, or daughter, more than me, he is
not worthy of me," 2 Cor. v. 16; Ps. cxxxix.
*22; Matt. x. 37.

This duty is, perhaps, too exalted for the
earth. The sentiments of nature are, perhaps,
too much entwined with those of religion to
be so perfectly distinguished. It is certain,
however, that they shall exist in heaven. If
you should suppose the contrary, the happiness
of heaven would be imbittered with a thousand
pains: you can never conceive how a father can
be satisfied with a felicity in which his son has
no share; nor how a friend can be composed
while his associate is loaded with " chains of
darkness." Whereas, if you establish the prin
ciple that perfect charity must be an emanation
of divine love, you will develop the inquiry;
and you will also conclude, that excessive sor
row, excited by a criminal death, is a criminal
sorrow, and that if piety be its principle, it is a
misguided piety.

But if there be one kind of sorrow incompati
ble with the hope of a Christian, there is an
other which is altogether congenial to it, and
inseparable in its ties, and such is the sorrow
which proceeds from one of the following prin
ciples: — from sympathy; — from the dictates of
nature; — and from repentance. To be explicit:
I. We have said first, from sympathy.
Though we have censured the sorrow excited
by the loss of our dearest friends, we did not
wish to impose a rigorous apathy. The sorrow
we have censured is that excessive grief, in
which despondency prevailing over religion in
duces us to deplore the dead, as though there
was no hope after this life, and no life after
death. But the submissive sorrow by which
we feel our loss, without shutting our eyes
against the resources afforded by Providence;
the sorrow which weeps at the suffei^ngs of our
friends in the road to glory, but confident of
their having attained it; this sorrow, so far from
being culpable, is an inseparable sentiment of
nature, and an indispensable duty of religion.
Yes, it is allowed on seeing this body, this
corpse, the precious remains of a part of our
selves, carried away by a funeral procession, it
is allowed to recall the tender but painful re
collections of the intimacy we had with him
whom death has snatched away. It is allowed
to recall the counsel he gave us in our embar
rassments; the care he took of our education;
the solicitude he took for our welfare; the un
affected marks of love which appeared during
the whole of his life, and which were redoubled
at the period of his death. It is allowed to re
call the endearments that so precious an inti
macy shed on life, the conversations in his last
sickness, those tender adieus, those assurances
of esteem, that frankness of his soul, those fer
vent prayers, those torrents of tears, and those
last efforts of an expiring tenderness. It is al
lowed in weeping to show the robes that Dor
cas had made. It is allowed to the tender Jo
seph, on coming to the threshing floor of Atad,
the tomb of his father; it is allowed to pour out
his heart in lamentations, to make Canaan re
sound with the cries of his grief, and to call
the place Abel-mizraim, the mourning of the
Egyptians. It is allowed to David to go weep
ing, and saying, " O my son Absalom; my son,
my son Absalom! would to'God I had died for
thee, O Absalom my son, my son!" 2 Sam.
xviii. 33. It is allowed to St. Augustine to
weep for the pious Monica, his mother, who
had shed so many tears to obtain the grace for
him, that he might for ever live with God, to
use the expression of his father. Confess, lib.
ix. c. 8, &c.

II. A due regard to ourselves should affect
us with sorrow on seeing the dying and the
dead. The first reflection that a sight of a
corpse should suggest is, that we also must die,
and that the road he has just taken, is " the
way of all the earth." This is a reflection that
every one seems to make, while no one makes
it in reality. We cast on the dying and the
dead but slight and transient regards; and if
we say, in general, that this must be our final
lot, we evade the particular application to our
heart.- While we subscribe to the sentence,
" It is appointed unto men once to die," we
uniformly make some sort of exception with

340

ON THE SORROW FOR THE DEATH OF, &c.

regard to ourselves: because we never have
died, it seems as though we never should die.
If we are not so far infatuated, as to flatter
ourselves concerning the fatal necessity impos
ed on us to leave the world, we flatter our
selves with regard to the circumstances; we
consider them as remote; and the distance of
the object prevents our knowing its nature,
and regarding it in a just light. We attend
the dying, we lay them in the tomb, we preach
their funeral discourse; we follow them in the
funeral train; and as though they were of a
nature different from us, and as though we had
some prerogative over the dead, we return
home, and become candidates for their offices.
We divide their riches, and enter on their
lands, just as the presumptive mariner, who,
seeing a ship on the shore, driven by the tem
pest and about to be bilged by the waves, takes
his bark, braves the billows, and defies the
danger, to share in the spoils of the wreck.

A prudent man contemplates the death of
his friends with other eyes. He follows them
with a mind attached to the tomb; he clothes
himself in their shrouds; he extends himself in
their coffin; he regards his living body as about
to become like their corpse; and the duty he
owes to himself inspires him with a gracious
sorrow on seeing in the destiny of his lamented
friends an i«nage of his own.

But why should the thought of dying excite
sorrow in a saint, in regard of whom the divine
justice is disarmed, and to whom nothing is
presented beyond the tomb but inviting objects?
The solution of this difficulty associates with
what we said in the third place, that the death
of persons worthy of our esteem, should excite
in our hearts the sentiments of repentance.

III. It is a question often agitated among
Christians, that seeing Jesus Christ has satisfied
the justice of the Father for their sins, why
should they still die? And one of the most
pressing difficulties opposed to the evangelical
system results from it, that death equally reigns
over those who embrace, and those who reject
it. To this it is commonly replied, that death
is now no longer a punishment for our sins, but
a tempest that rolls us to the port, and a pas
sage to a better life. This is a solid reply: but
does it perfectly remove the difficulty? Have
we not still a right to ask, Why God should
lead us in so strait a way? Why he pleases to
make this route so difficult? Why do not his
chariots of fire carry us up to heaven, as they
once took Elijah? For after all the handsome
things one can say, the period of death is a
terrible period, and death is still a formidable
foe. What labours, what conflicts, what throes,
prior to the moment! what doubts, what uncer
tainties, what labouring of thought before we
acquire the degree of confidence to die with
fortitude! How disgusting the remedies! How
irksome the aids! How severe the separations!
How piercing the final farewell! This consti
tutes the difficulty, and the ordinary solution
leaves it in all its force.

The following remark to me seems to meet
the difficulty in a manner more direct. The
death of the righteous is an evil, but it is an
instructive evil. It is a violent, but a necessary
remedy. It is a portrait of the divine justice
which God requires we should constantly have

. XC,

in view, that we may so live as to avoid be
coming the victims of that justice. It is an
awful monument of the horror God has of sin,
which should teach us to avoid it. The more
submissive the good man was to the divine
pleasure, the more distinguished is the monu
ment. The more eminent he was for piety,
the more should we be awed by this stroke of
justice. Come, and look at this good man in
the tomb, and in a putrid state; trace his exit
in a bed of affliction to this dark and obscure
abode; see how, after having been emaciated
by a severe disease, he is now reserved as a
feast for worms. Who was this man? Was he
habitually wicked? Was he avowedly an ene
my of God? No: he was a believer; he was a
model of virtue and probity. Meanwhile, this
saint, this friend of Christ, died: descended
from a sinful father, he submitted to the sen
tence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt
thou return," Gen. iii. 19. And if those re
mains of corruption were subjugated to a lot
so severe, what shall be the situation of those
in whom sin reigns? " If the righteous be saved
with difficulty, where shall the wicked appear?
If the judgment of God begin at his house,
what shall the end be of those that obey not
the gospel?" 1 Pet. iv. 17, 18.

The law imposed on us to die is, therefore,
a requisite, but indeed a violent remedy; and
to correspond with the design, we must drink
the cup. The death of those who are worthy
of our regret, ought to recall to our mind the
punishment of sin, and to excite in us that sor
row which is a necessary fruit of true repent
ance.

These are the three sorts of sorrow that the
death of our friends should excite in our breast.
And so far are we from repressing this kind of
grief, that we would wish you to feel it in all
its force. Go to the tombs of the dead; open
their coffins; look on their remains; let each
there recognise a husband, or a parent, or chil
dren, or brethren; but instead of regarding
them as surrounding him alive, let him suppose
himself as lodged in the subterraneous abode
*with the persons to whom he has been closely
united. Look at them deliberately, hear what
they say: death seems to have condemned him
to an eternal silence; meanwhile they speak;
they preach with a voice far more eloquent
than ours.

We have taught you to shed upon their tombs
tears of tenderness: hear the dead, they preach
with a voice more eloquent than ours. " Have
you forgotten the relations we formed, and the
ties that united us? Is it with games and di
versions that you lament our loss? Is it in the
circles of gayety, and in public places, that you
commemorate our exit?"

We have exhorted you to shed upon their
tomb tears of duty to yourselves. " Hear the
dead;" they preach with a voice more eloquent
than ours. They cry, "Vanity of vanities.
All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof
is as the flower of the field. The world passeth
away, and the lusts thereof. Surely man walk-
eth in a vain shadow," Eccles. i. 2; Isa. xl. 6;
1 John ii. 17; Ps. xxxix. 7. They recall to your
mind the afflictions they have endured, the
troubles which assailed their mind, and the de
liriums that affected their brain. They recall

SSR. XCL]

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

341

those objects that you may contemplate in their
situation an image of your own; that you may
be apprised how imperfectly qualified a man is
in his last moments for recollection, and the
work of his salvation. They tell you, that they
once had the same health, the same strength,
the same fortune, and the same honours as you;
notwithstanding, the torrent which bore us
away, is doing the same with you.

We have exhorted you to shed upon their
tombs the tears of repentance. Hear the dead;
they preach with an eloquence greater than
ours; they say, "that sin has brought death into
the world; death which separates the father
from the son, and the son from the father; which
disunites hearts the most closely attached, and
dissolves the most intimate and tender ties."
They say more: Hear the dead — hear some of
them, who, from the abyss of eternal flames,
into which they are plunged for impenitency,
exhort you to repentance.

O! terrific preachers, preachers of despair,
may your voice break the hearts of those hear
ers on which our ministry is destitute of energy
and effect. — Hear those dead, they speak with
a voice more eloquent than ours from the depths
of the abyss, from the deep caverns of hell; they
cry, " Who among us shall dwell with devour
ing fire? Who among us shall dwell with ever
lasting burnings? Ye mountains fall on us; ye
hills cover us. It is a fearful thing to fall into
the hands of the living God, when he is angry,"
Isa. xxxiii, 14; Luke xxiii. 30; Heb. x. 31.
Hear the father, who suffering in hell for the
bad education given to the family he left on
earth. Hear him by the despair of his condi
tion; by the chains which oppress him; by the
fire which devours him; and by the remorse, the
torments, and the anguish which gnaw him,
entreat you not to follow him to that abyss.
Hear the impure, the accomplice of your plea
sure, who says, that if God had called you the [
first, you would have been substituted in his j
place, and who entreats to let your eyes become
as fountains of repentant tears.

This is the sort of sorrow with which we
should be affected for the death of those with
whom it has pleased God to connect us by the
bonds of society and of nature. May it pene
trate our hearts; and for ever banish the sorrow
which confounds us with those who have no
hope. Let us be compassionate citizens, faith
ful friends, tender fathers, loving all those with
whom it has pleased God to unite us, and not
regarding this love as a defect; but let us love
our Maker with supreme affection. Let us be
always ready to sacrifice to him whatever we
have most dear on earth. May a glorious re
surrection be the ultimatum of our requests.
May the hope of obtaining it assuage all our
sufferings. And may God Almighty, who has
educated us in a religion so admirably adapted
to support in temptation, give success to our
efforts, and be the crown of our hopes; Amen.
To whom be honou/ and glory, henceforth and
for ever.

SERMON XCL

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON •

1 KINGS Hi. 5 — 14.

In Gibeon, the Lord appeared to Solomon, in a
dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall
give. And Solomon said, Thou hast showed
unto thy servant David, my father, great mercy,
according as he walked before thee in truth, and
in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart
with thee; and thou hast kept for him this great
kindness, that thou hast given him a son to sit
on his throne, as it is this day. And now, 0
Lord, my God, thou hast made thy servant king
instead of David, my father; and I am but a
little child; I know not how to go out and
come in. And thy servant is in the midst of thy
people whj,ch thcu hast chosen, a great people,
which cannot be numbered nor counted for mul
titude. Give, therefore, thy servant an under
standing heart, to judge thy people, that J may
discern between good and bad: for who is able to
judge this thy so great a people? And the speech
pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this
thing. And God said unto him, Because thou
hast asked this thing, and hast not asked for thy
self long life; neither hast thou asked riches for
thyself; nor hast asked the life of thine enemies,
but hast asked for thyself understanding to dis
cern judgment: Behold I have done according to
thy words. Lo, I have given thee a wise and
understanding heart, so that there icas none like
thee before thee, neither after thee shall any arise
like unto thee. And I have also given thee that
which thou hast not asked, both riches and ho
nour; so that there shall not be any among the
kings like unto thee all thy days. And if thou
wilt walk in my ways, to keep my statutes and
my commandments, as thy father David did
walk, then will I lengthen thy days.
"Wo to thee, O land, when thy king is a
child!" In this way has the sage expressed the
calamities of states conducted by men destitute
of experience. But this general maxim is not
without exceptions. As we sometimes see the
gayeties of youth in mature age, so we some
times perceive in youth the gravity of sober
years. There are some geniuses premature,
with whom reason anticipates on years; and
who, if I may so speak, on leaving the cradle,
discover talents worthy of the throne. A pro
fusion of supernatural endowments, coming to
the aid of nature, exemplifies in their character
the happy experience of the prophet; "I have
more understanding than all my teachers. I

* Saurin, placed at the Hague as first minister of the
persecuted Protestants, and oAen attended by illustrious
characters, saw it his duty to apprise them of the moral
sentiments essential for an entrance on high office and ex-
tensive authority. The Abbe Maury, in his treatise on
Eloquence, though hostile to Saurin, allows this Sermon
on the Wisdom of Solomon, to be one of the best speci-
is eloquence.

342

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

[SER. XCI.

understand more than the ancients," Ps. cxix.
99, 100.

Here we have an illustrious proof. Solomon,
in the early periods of life, formed the correctest
idea of government which had ever entered the
mind of the profoundest philosophers, or the
most consummate statesmen. Awed by the
sceptre, he acknowledged the impotency of his
arm to sway it. Of the high privilege granted
of God, to ask whatever he would, he availed
himself solely to ask wisdom. What an ad
mirable choice! How many aged men have we
seen less enlightened than this youth? On the
other hand, God honoured a petition so wise,
by superadding to the petitioner every other
endowment: he gave to Solomon wisdom, and
with wisdom, glory and riches; he elevated him
to a scale of grandeur, which no prince ever
did, or ever shall be allowed to equal. It is to
this petition so judicious, and to this reply so
magnificent, that we shall call your attention,
after having bestowed a moment on occasion of
both.

It occurs in the leading words of our text.
It was a divine communication, in which the
place, the manner, and the subject, claim parti
cular attention.

1. The place: it was in Gibeon; not the city
from which those Gibeonites derived their
name, who, by having recourse to singular arti
fice, saved their lives, which they thought them
selves unable to defend by force, or to preserve
by compassion. That, I would say, the city of
those Gibeonites, was a considerable place, and
called in the Book of Joshua, a royal city. The
other was situate on the highest mountains of
Judea, distant, according to Eusebius and St.
Jerome, about eight miles from Jerusalem.

We shall not enter into geographical discus
sions. What claims attention is, a circumstance
of the place where Solomon was, which natu
rally recalls to view one of the weaknesses of
this prince. It is remarked at the commence
ment of the chapter, from which we have taken
our text, that "the people sacrificed in high
places." The choice was, probably, not exempt
from superstition: it is certain, at least, that
idolaters usually selected the highest mountains
for the exercise of their religious ceremonies.
Tacitus assigns as a reason, that in those places,
being nearer the gods, they were the more likely
to be heard. Lucian reasons much in the same
way, and, without a doubt, less to vindicate the
custom than to expose it to contempt. God
himself has forbidden it in law.

We have, however, classed this circumstance
in Solomon's life among his frailties, rather than
his faults. Prevention for high places was much
less culpable in the reign of this prince, than in
the ages which followed. In those ages, the
Israelites violated, by sacrificing on high places,
the law which forbade any sacrifice to be offered,
except in the temple of Jerusalem; whereas, in
the age of which we now speak, the temple did
not exist. The people sacrificed on the brazen
altar, constructed by the divine command. This
altar was then in Gibeon, where it had been
escorted with the tabernacle, as we read in the
book of Chronicles.

2. The manner in which the revelation to
Solomon was made, supplies a second source
of reflections. It was, says the historian, in a I

dream. We have elsewhere* remarked, that
there are three sorts of dreams. Some are in
the order of nature; others are in the order of
providence; and a third class are of an order
superior to both.

I call dreams in the order of nature, those
which ought merely to be regarded as the irre
gular flights of imagination, over which the
will has lost, or partially lost, its command.

I call dreams in the order of providence,
those which without deviation from the course
of nature, excite certain instructive ideas, and
suggest to the mind truths, to which we were
not sufficiently attentive while awake. Provi
dence sometimes directing our attention to pe
culiar circumstances in a way purely natural,
and destitute of all claims to the supernatural,
and much less to the marvellous.

Some dreams, however, are of an order su
perior to those of nature, and of providence.
It was by this sort of dreams that God revealed
his pleasure to the prophets: but this dispensa
tion being altogether divine, and of which the
Scriptures say little, and being impossible for
the researches of the greatest philosopher to
supply the silence of the Holy Ghost, we shall
make no fruitless efforts farther to illustrate
the manner of the revelation with which Solo
mon was honoured.

3. A reason very dissimilar supersedes our
stopping to illustrate the subject; I would say,
it has no need of illustration. God was wish
ful to put Solomon to the proof, by prompting
him to ask whatsoever he would, and by en
gaging to fulfil it. Solomon's reply was wor
thy of the test. His sole request was for wis
dom. God honoured this enlightened request;
and in granting profound wisdom to his ser
vant, he superadded riches, and glory, and
long life. — It is this enlightened request, and
this munificent reply, we are now to examine.
We shall examine them jointly, placing, at the
same time, the harmony of the one with the
other, in a just and proper view. Four re
marks demand attention in Solomon's request
to God, and four in God's reply.

I. Consider, in Solomon's request, the recol
lection of past mercies: " Thou hast showed
unto thy servant David, my father, great mer
cy:" and mark, in the reply, how pleasing this
recollection was to God.

II. Consider, in Solomon's request, the as
pect under which he regarded the regal power.
He considered it solely with a view to the high
duties on which it obliged him to enter. " Thy
servant is in the midst of thy people which
thou hast chosen, a great people, which can
not be numbered nor counted for multitude.
Who is able to judge this thy so great a peo
ple?" And in God's reply, mark the opposite
seal, with regard to this idea of the supreme
authority.

III. Consider, in Solomon's request, the sen
timents of his own weakness and the conscious
ness of his insufficiency: " I am but as a little
child, and know not how to go out, and to
come in:" and in God's reply, mark how high
ly he is delighted with humility.

IV. In Solomon's request, consider the wis
dom of his choice; " Give, therefore, unto thy

* Discours Hist. torn. v. p. 184.

SER. XCL]

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

343

servant an understanding heart to judge thy
people:" and in God's reply, mark how Solo
mon's prayer was heard, and his wisdom
crowned. Four objects, all worthy of our re
gard.

I. Consider, in Solomon's request, the recol
lection of mercies. It was the mercies of Da
vid, his father. Solomon made this reference
as a motive to obtain the divine mercies and
aids his situation required. He aspired at the
blessings which God confers on the children of
faithful fathers. He wished to become the ob
ject of that promise in which God stands en
gaged to "show mercy to thousands of gene
rations of those that love him," Exod. xx. 6.

This is the first object of our discourse. The
privilege of an illustrious birth, I confess, is
sometimes extravagantly amplified. This kind
of folly is not novel in the present age: it was
the folly of the Hebrew nation. To most of
the rebukes of their prophets, they opposed
this extraordinary defence: "We. 'are Abra
ham's seed; we have Abraham to our&ther,"
Matt. iii. 9. What an apology! Does an il
lustrious birth sanction low and grovelling sen
timents. Do the virtues of our ancestors ex
cuse us from being virtuous? And has God
for ever engaged to excuse impious children,
because their parents were pious? You are the
children of Abraham; you have an illustrious
descent; your ancestors were the models and
glory of their age. Then you are the more
inexcusable for being the reproach of your age;
then you are the faithless depositories of the
nobility with which you have been intrusted;
then you have degenerated from your former
grandeur: then you shall be condemned to sur
render to nature a corrupted blood, which you
received pure from those to whom you owe
your birth.

It is true, however, all things being weighed,
that, in tracing a descent, it is a singular fa
vour of Heaven to be able to cast one's eyes
on a long line of illustrious ancestors. I am
not about to offer incense to the idol of distin
guished families; the Lord's church has rnoro
correct ideas of nobility. To be accounted no
ble in the sanctuary, we must give proof of
virtue, and not of empty titles, which often
owe their origin to the vanity, the seditions,
and fawning baseness of those who display
them with so much pride. To be noble in the
language of our Scriptures; and to be impure,
avaricious, haughty, and implacable, are dif
ferent ideas. But charity, but patience, but
moderation, but dignity of soul, and a certain
elevation of mind, place the possessor above
the world and its maxims. These are charac
teristics of the nobility of God's children.

In this view, it is a high favour of Heaven,
in tracing one's descent, to be able to cast the
eye on a long line of illustrious ancestors. How
often have holy men availed themselves of
these motives to induce the Deity, if not to bear
with the Israelites in their course of crimes, at
least to pardon them after the crimes have
been committed? How often have they said,
in the supplications they opposed to the wrath
of Heaven, " O God, remember Abraham,
and Isaac, and Jacob, thy servants!" How
often has God yielded to the strength of these

arguments? How often has he, for the sake of
the patriarchs, for the sake of David, heard
prayer in behalf of their children?

Let these maxims be deeply imprinted on
the heart. Our own interest should be motive
sufficient to prompt us to piety. But we
should also be excited to it by the interest of
our children. The recollection of our virtues
is the best inheritance we can leave them after
death. These virtues afford them claims to
the divine favours. The good will of Hea
ven, is, in some sort, entailed on families who
fear the Lord. Happy the fathers, when ex
tended on the bed of death, who can say, " My
children, I am about to appear before the awful
tribunal, where there is no resource for poor
mortals, but humility and repentance. Mean
while, I bless God, that notwithstanding my
defects, which I acknowledge with confusion
of face, you will not have cause to blush on
pronouncing the name of your father. I have
been faithful to the truth, and have constantly
walked before God, "in the uprightness of my
heart." Happy the children who have such a
descent; I would prefer it to titles the most
distinguished, to riches the most dazzling, and
to offices the most lucrative. " O God, thou
hast showed unto thy servant David, my fa
ther, great mercy, according as he walked be
fore thee in truth, and in righteousness, and in
uprightness of heart!" Here is the recollec
tion of past mercies, the recollection of which
God approves, and the first object of our dis
course.

II. Consider, secondly, in the prayer of So
lomon, the aspect under which he contemplated
the regal power. He viewed it principally
with regard to the high duties it imposed.
" Thy servant is in the midst of thy people
which thou hast chosen; who is able to judge
this thy so great a people, which cannot be
numbered?" The answer of God is a corres
pondent seal to this idea of supreme authority.
And what we here say of the regal power, we
apply to every other office of trust and dignity.
A man of integrity must not view them with
regard to the emoluments they produce, but
with regard to the duties they impose.

What is the end proposed by society on ele
vating certain men to high stations? Is it to
augment their pride? Is it to usher them into
a style of life the most extravagant? Is it to
aggrandize their families by the ruin of the
widow and the orphan? Is it to adore them as
idols? Is it to become their slaves? Potentates
and magistrates of the earth, ask those sub
jects to whom you are indebted for the high
scale of elevation you enjoy. Ask, Why those
dignities were conferred? They will say, it
was to intrust you with their safety and repose;
it was to procure fathers and protectors; it was
to find peace and prosperity under the shadow
of your tribunals. To induce you to enter on
those arduous duties, they have accompanied
them with those inviting appendages which
soothe the cares, and alleviate the weights of
office. They have conferred titles; they have
sworn obedience, and ensured revenue. En
trance then on a high duty is to make a con
tract with the people, over whom you proceed
to exercise it; it is to make a compact, by

344

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

[San. XCI.

which certain duties are required on certain
conditions. To require the emoluments, when
the conditions of the engagements are violated,
is an abominable usurpation; it is a usurpation
of honour, of homage, and of revenue. I speak
literally, and without even a shadow of exag
geration: a magistrate who deviates from the
duties of his office, after having received the
emolument, ought to come under the penal
statutes, as those who take away their neigh
bours' goods. These statutes require restitu
tion. Before restitution, he is liable to this
anathema, " Wo to him that increaseth that
which is not his own, and to him that ladeth
himself with thick clay; for the stone shall
cry out of the wall, and the beam out of the
timber shall answer it," Hab. ii. 6. 11. Before
restitution, he is unworthy of the Lord's table,
and included in the curse we denounce against
thieves, whom we repel from the holy Eucha
rist. Before restitution, he is unable to die in
peace, and he is included in the list of those
" who shall not inherit the kingdom of God."

But into what strange reflections do these
considerations involve us? What awful ideas
do they excite in our minds? And what alarm
ing consequences do they draw on certain
kings? — Ye Moseses; ye Elijahs; ye John Bap
tists; faithful servants of the living God, and
celebrated in every age of the church for your
fortitude, your courage, and your zeal; you,
who know not how to temporize, nor to trem
ble; no, neither before Pharaoh, nor before
Ahab, nor before Herod, nor before Herodias,
why are you not in this pulpit? Why do you
not to-day supply our place, to communicate
to the subject all the energy of which it is sus
ceptible? " Be wise, O ye kings; be instructed,
ye judges of the earth," Ps. ii. 10.

III. We have remarked, thirdly, in the
prayer of Solomon, the sentiments of his own
weakness; and in God's reply, the high regard
testified towards humility. The character of
the king whom Solomon succeeded, the ar
duous nature of the duties to which he was
called, and the insufficiency of his age, were
to him three considerations of humility.

1. The character of the king to whom he
succeeded. " Thou hast showed unto thy ser
vant David, my father, great mercy, according
as he walked before thee in truth, and in right
eousness, and in the uprightness of his heart;
and thou hast given him a son to sit upon his
throne. How dangerous to succeed an illus
trious prince! The brilliant actions of a prede
cessor, are so many sentences against the faults
of his successor. The people never fail to
make certain oblique contrasts between the
past and the present. They recollect the vir
tues they have attested, the happiness they
have enjoyed, the prosperity with which they
have been loaded, and the distinguished quali
fications of the prince, whom death has recent
ly snatched away. And if the idea of having
had an illustrious predecessor is, on all occa
sions, a subject of serious consideration for him
who has to follow, never had a prince a juster
cause to be awed than Solomon. He succeed
ed a man who was the model of kings, in
whose person was united the wisdom of a
statesman, the valour of a soldier, the expe
rience of a marshal, the illumination of a pro

phet, the piety of a good man, and even the
virtues of a saint of the first rank.

2. The extent of the duties imposed on So
lomon, was the second object of his diffidence.
" Who is able to judge this thy so great a peo
ple?" Adequately to judge a great nation, a
man must regard himself as no more his own,
but wholly devoted to the people. Adequately
to judge a great nation, a man must have a
consummate knowledge of human nature, of
civil society, of the laws of nature, and of the
peculiar laws of the provinces over which he
presides. Adequately to judge a nation, he
must have his house and his heart ever open to
the solicitations of those over whom he is ex
alted. Adequately to judge a people, he must
recollect, that a small sum of money, that a
foot of land, is as much to a poor man as a
city, a province, and a kingdom, are to a
prince. Adequately to judge a people, he must
habituate himself to the disgust excited by
listening to a man who is quite full of his sub
ject, and who imagines that the person ad- t
dressed, ought to be equally impressed with its
importance. Adequately to judge a people,
a man must be exempt from vice: nothing is
more calculated to prejudice the mind against
the purity of his decisions, than to see him
captivated by some predominant passion. Ade
quately to judge a people, he must be desti
tute of personal respect; he must neither yield
to the entreaties of those who know the way
to his heart, nor be intimidated by the high
tone of others, who threaten to hold up as
martyrs, the persons they obstinately defend.
Adequately to judge*a people, a man must ex
pand, if I may so speak, all the powers of his
soul, that he may be equal to the dignity of
his duty, and avoid all distraction, which, on
engrossing the capacity of the mind, obstruct
its perception of the main object. And " who
is sufficient for these things?" who is able to
judge this thy so great a people? 2 Cor. ii. 16.

3. The snares of youth form a third object
of Solomon's fear, and a third cause of his dif-
•fidence. " I am but a little child; I know not
how to go out and come in." Some chronolo-
gists are of opinion, that Solomon, when he
uttered these words, " I am but a little child,"
was only twelve years of age, which to us
seems insupportable; for besides its not being
proved by the event, as we shall explain, it
ought to be placed in the first year of this
prince's reign: and the style in which David
addressed him on his investiture with the reins
of government, sufficiently proves, that he
spake not to a child. He calls him ivise, and
to this wisdom he confides the punishment of
Joab and of Shimei.

Neither do we think that we can attach to
these words, " I am but a little child," with
better grace, a sense purely metaphorical, as
implying nothing more than Solomon's ac
knowledgment of the infancy of his under
standing. The opinion most probable, in our
apprehension, (and we omit the detail of the
reasons by which we are convinced of it) is,
that of those who think that Solomon calls him
self a little child, much in the same sense as
the term is applied to Benjamin, to Joshua,
and to the sons of Eli.

It was, therefore, I would suppose, at the

SER. XC1.]

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

345

age of twenty or of twenty-six years, that So
lomon saw himself called to fill the throne of
the greatest kings, and to enter on those ex
alted duties, of which we have given but an
imperfect sketch. How disproportioned did
the vocation seem to the age! It is then that
we give scope to presumption, which has a
plausible appearance, being as yet unmortified
by the recollection of past errors. It is then,
that a jealousy of not being yet classed by
others among great men, prompts a youth to
place himself in that high rank. It is then
that we regard counsels as so many attacks on
the authority we assume to ourselves. It is
then that we oppose an untractable disposition
as a barrier to the advice of a faithful friend,
who would lead us to propriety of conduct. It
is then, that our passions hurry us to excess,
and become the arbitrators of truth and false
hood, of equity and injustice.

Presumptuous youths, who make the assu
rance with which you aspire at the first offices
of state, the principal ground of success, how
can I better impress you with this head of my
discourse, than by affirming, that the higher
notions you entertain of your own sufficiency,
the lower you sink at the bar of equity and
reason. The more you account yourselves
qualified to govern, the less you are capable of
doing it. The sentiment Solomon entertained
of his own weakness, was the most distinguish
ed of his royal virtues. The profound humility
with which he asked God to supply his ina
bility, was the best disposition for obtaining
the divine support.

IV. We are corne at length to the last, and
to the great object of the history before us.
Here we must show you, on the one hand, our
hero preferring the requisite talents, to pomp,
splendour, riches, and all that is grateful to
kings; and from the vast source opened by
Heaven, deriving but wisdom and understand
ing. We must show, on the other hand, that
God, honouring a prayer so enlightened, ac
corded to Solomon the wisdom and under
standing he had asked, and with these, riches,
glory, and long life.

Who can forbear being delighted with the
first object, and who can sufficiently applaud
the magnanimity of Solomon? Place your
selves in the situation of this prince. Ima
gine, for a moment, that you are the arbitrators
of your own destiny, and that you hear a voice
from the blessed God, saying, " Ask what I
shall give thee." How awful would this test
prove to most of our hearers! If we may judge
of our wishes by our pursuits, what strange re
plies should we make to God! What a choice
would it be! Our privilege would become our
ruin, and we should have the awful ingenuity
to find misery in the very bosom of happiness.
Who would say, Lord, give me wisdom and
understanding; Lord, help me worthily to dis
charge the duties of the station with which I
am intrusted? This is the utmost of all my
requests; and to this alone 1 would wish thy
munificence to be confined. On the contrary,
biassed by the circumstance of situation, and
Bwayed by some predominant passion, one
would say, Lord, augment my heaps of gold and
silver, and in proportion as my riches shall in
crease, diminish the desire of expenditure: ano-
VOL. II.— 44

ther, Lord, raise me to the highest scale of
grandeur, and give me to trample under foot,
men who shall have the assurance to become
my equals, and whom I regard as the worms of
earth. How little, for the most part, do we
know ourselves in prosperity! How incorrect
are our ideas! Great God, do thou determine
our lot, and save us from the reproach of mak
ing an unhappy choice, by removing the occa
sion. Solomon was incomparably wiser. Fill
ed with the duties of his august station, and
awed by its difficulties, he said, " Lord, give
thy servant an understanding heart to judge
thy people, that I may discern between good
and bad."

But if we applaud the wisdom of Solomon's
prayer, how much more should we applaud
the goodness and munificence of God's reply?
" Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast
not asked for thyself long life, neither' hast
thou asked riches for thyself, nor hast asked
the life of thine enemies. But hast asked un
derstanding to discern judgment. Behold, I
have done according to thy word. Lo, I have
given thee a wise and an understanding heart;
and I have also given thee that which thou
hast not asked, both riches and honour, so that
there shall not be any among the kings like
unto thee all thy days."

How amply was this promise fulfilled, and
how did its accomplishment correspond with
the munificence of him by whom it was made!
By virtue of this promise, I " have given thee
an understanding heart," we see Solomon car
rying the art of civil government to the high
est perfection it can ever attain. Witness the
profound prudence by which he discerned the
real from the pretended mother, when he said
with divine promptitude, " Bring me a sword.
Divide the living child into two parts, and
give half to the one, and half to the other," 1
Kings iii. 24, 25. Witness the profound peace
he procured for his subjects, arid which made
the sacred historian say, that " Judah and
Israel dwell safely, every man under his vine,
and under his fig-tree," iv. 25. Witness the
eulogium of the sacred writings on this sub
ject, " that it excelled the wisdom of all the
children of the east, and all the wisdom of
Egypt; that he was wiser than Ethan, than
Herman, than Chalcol, and Darda;" that is to
say, he was wiser than every man of his own age.
Witness the embassies from all the kings of the
earth to hear his wisdom. Witness the accla
mation of the queen, who came from the re
motest kingdom of the earth to hear this pro
digy of wisdom. " It was a true report that I
heard in mine own land of thy wisdom, and
behold, the half was not told me. Thy wis
dom and prosperity exceedeth the fame which
I heard. Happy are these thy men, happy are
these thy servants, which stand continually
before thee, and that hear thy wisdom," 1
Kings x. 6 — 8.

And in virtue of this other promise, " I have
given thee glory and riches;" we see Solomon
raise superb edifices, form powerful alliances,
and sway the sceptre over every prince, from
the river even unto the land of the Philistines,
that is, from the Euphrates to the eastern
branch of the Nile, which separates Palestine
from Egypt, and making gold as plentiful in

346

ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON.

[SER. XCI.

Jerusalem as stones, 2 Chron. ix. 26; 1 Chron.
i. 15.

It would be easy to extend these reflections,
but were I to confine myself to this alone, I
should fear being charged with having evaded
the most difficult part of the subject to dwell
on that which is sufficiently plain. The ex
traordinary condescension which God evinced
towards Solomon; the divine gifts with which
he was endowed, the answer to his prayer,
" I have given thee an understanding heart,"
collectively involve a difficulty of the most se
rious kind. How shall we reconcile the fa
vours with the events? How could a man so
wise commit those faults, and perpetrate those
crimes, which stained his lustre at the close of
life? How could he follow the haughty license
of oriental princes, who displayed a haram
crowded with concubines? How, in abandon
ing his heart to sensual pleasure, could he
abandon his faith and his religion? And after
having the baseness to offer incense to their
beauty, could he also offer incense to their
idols? I meet this question with the greater
pleasure, as the solution we shall give will de
monstrate, first, the difficulties of superior en
dowments; secondly, the danger of bad company;
thirdly, the peril of human grandeur; and fourth
ly, the poison of voluptuousness; four important
lessons by which this discourse shall close.

talents. Can we suppose that God, on the in
vestiture of Solomon with superior endow
ments, exempted him from the law which re
quires men of the humblest talents to improve
them? What is implied in these words, "I
have given thee understanding?" Do they
mean, I take solely on myself the work of thy
salvation, that thou mayest live without re
straint in negligence and pleasure? Brave the
strongest temptations; I will obstruct thy fall
ing? Open thy heart to the most seductive ob
jects; I will interpose my buckler for thy pre
servation and defence?

On this subject, my brethren, some minis
ters have need of a total reform in their creed,-*
and to abjure a system of theology, if I may so
dare to speak, inconceivably absurd. Some
men have formed notions of I know not what
grace, which takes wholly on itself the work
of our salvation, which suffers us to sleep as
much as we choose in the arms of concupis
cence and pleasure, and which redoubles its
aids in proportion as the sinner redoubles re
sistance. Undeceive yourselves. God never
yet bestowed a talent without requiring its
cultivation. The higher are our endowments,
the greater are our responsibilities. The greater
efforts grace makes to save us, the more should
we labour at our salvation. The more it
watches for our good, the more we are called
to the exercise of vigilance. You — you who
surpass your neighbour, in knowledge, tremble;
an account will be required of that superior
light. You, — you who have more of genius
than the most of men, tremble; an account
will be required of that genius. You, — you
who have most advanced \n the grace of sancti-
fication, tremble; an account will be required
of that grace. Do you call this truth in ques
tion? Go, — go see it exemplified in the person
of Solomon. Go, and see the abyss into which

he fell by burying his talents. Go, and see
this man endowed with talents superior to all
the world. Go, and see him enslaved by seven
hundred wives, and prostituted to three hun
dred concubines. Go, see him prostrated be
fore the idol of the Sidonians, and before the
abomination of the Ammonites; and by the
awful abyss into which he was plunged by the
neglect of his talents, learn to improve yours
with sanctifying fear.

Our second solution of the difficulty proposed,
and the second caution we would derive from
the fall of Solomon, is the danger of bad com
pany; and a caution rendered the more essen
tial by the inattention of the age. A contagi
ous disease which extends its ravages at a thou
sand miles, excites in our mind terror and
alarm. We use the greatest precaution against
the danger. We guard the avenues of the state,
and lay vessels on their arrival in port under
the strictest quarantine: we do not suffer our
selves to be approached by any suspected per
son. But the contagion of bad company gives
us not the smallest alarm. We respire without
fear an air the most impure and fatal to the
soul. We form connexions, enter into engage
ments, and contract marriages with profane,
sceptical, and worldly people, and regard all
those as declaimers and enthusiasts who declare,
that " evil communications corrupt good man
ners." But see, — see indeed, by the sad ex
perience of Solomon, whether we are declaim
ers and enthusiasts when we talk in this way.
See into what a wretched situation we are
plunged by contracting marriages with persons
whose religion is idolatrous, and whose morals
are corrupt. Nothing is more contagious than
bad example. The sight, the presence, the
voice, the breath of the wicked is infected and
fatal.

The danger of human grandeur is a new so
lution of the difficulty proposed, and a third
caution we derive from the fall of Solomon.
Mankind, for the most part, have a brain too
weak to bear a high scale of elevation. Daz
zled at once with the rays of surrounding lustre,
they can no longer support the sight. You
are astonished that Solomon, this prince, who
reigned from the river even to the land of the
Philistines; this prince, who made gold in his
kingdom as plentiful as stones; this prince,
who was surrounded with flatterers and cour
tezans; this prince, who heard nothing but
eulogy, acclamation and applause, you are as
tonished that he should be thus intoxicated
with the high endowments God had granted
him for the discharge of duty, and that he
should so far forget himself as to fall into the
enormities just described. Seek in your own
heart, and in your life, the true solution of this
difficulty. We are blinded by the smallest
prosperity, and our head is turned by the least
elevation of rank. A name, a title, added to
our dignity; an acre of land added to our estate,
an augmentation of equipage, a little informa
tion added to our knowledge, a wing to our
mansion, or an inch to our stature, and here is
more than enough to give us high notions of
our own consequence, to make us assume a
decisive tone, and wish to be considered as
oracles: here is more than enough to make us
forget our ignorance, our weakness, our cor-

SER. XCIL]

ruption, the disease which consumes us, the
tomb which awaits us, the death which pursues
us, treading on our heels, the sentence already
preparing, and the account which God is about
to require. Let us distrust ourselves in pros
perity: let us never forget what we are; let us
have people about us to recall its recollection:
let us request our friends constantly to cry in
our ears, remember that you are loaded with
crimes; that you are but dust and ashes; and
in the midst of your grandeur, and your rank,
remember that you are poor, frail, wretched,
and abject.

4. In short, the beguiling charms of pleasure
are the first solution of the difficulty proposed,
and the last instruction we derive from the fall
of Solomon. The sacred historian has not over
looked this cause of the faults of this prince.
" Solomon loved many strange women, and
they turned away his heart from the Lord,"
1 Kings xi. 1.3. I am here reminded of the
wretched mission of Balaam. Commanded by
powerful princes, allured by magnificent re
wards, his eyes and heart already devoured the
presents which awaited his services. He as
cended a mountain, he surveyed the camp of the
Israelites, he invoked by turns the power of
God's Spirit, and the power of the devil. Find
ing that prophecy afforded him no resource,
he had recourse to divinations and enchant
ments. Just on the point of giving full effect
to his detestable art, he felt himself fettered by
the force of truth, and exclaimed, " there is no
enchantment against Jacob, there is no divina
tion against Israel," Numb, xxxiii. 23. He
temporized; yes, he found a way to supersede
all the prodigies which God had done and ac
complished for his people. — This way was the
way of pleasure. It was, that they should no
more attack the Israelites with open force, but
with voluptuous delights; that they should no
more send among them wizards and enchant
ers, but the women of Midian, to allure them
to their sacrifices; then this people, before in
vincible, I will deliver into your hands! ! !

Of the success of this advice, my brethren,
you cannot be ignorant. But why fell not
every Balaam by the sword of Israelites!
Numb. xxxi. 8. Why were the awful conse
quences of this counsel restricted to the un
happy culprits, whom the holy hands of Phi-
neas and Eleazar, sacrificed to the wrath of
Heaven! David, Solomon, Samson, and you,
my brethren; you who may yet preserve, at
least, a part of your innocence. Let us arm
them against voluptuousness. Let us distrust
enchanting pleasure. Let us fear it, not only
when it presents its horrors; not only when it
discovers the frightful objects which follow in
its train, adultery, incest, treason, apostacy,
with murder and assassination; but let us fear
it, when clothed in the garb of innocence, when
authorized by decent freedoms, and assuming
the pretext of religious sacrifices. Let us ex
clude it from every avenue of the heart. Let
us restrict our senses. Let us mortify our
members which are on the earth. Let us
crucify the flesh with the concupiscence. And
by the way prescribed in the gospel; the way
of retirement, of silence, of austerity, of the
cross, and of mortification, let us attain hap
piness, and immortal bliss. May God grant

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

347

us the grace. To him be honour, and glory,
for ever. Arnen.

SERMON XCIL

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

Preached Nov. 20, 1720.

MICAH vi. 9.

Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.

AWFUL indeed was the complaint which
Jeremiah once made to God against Israel:
" O Lord, thou hast stricken them, but they
have not grieved; thou hast consumed them,
but they have refused to receive correction:
they have made their faces harder than a rock,"
Jen v. 3. Here is a view of the last period
of corruption; for however insuperable the cor
ruption of men may appear, they sin less by en
mity than dissipation. Few are so consummate
ly wicked as to sin solely through the wanton
ness of crime. The mind is so constantly at
tached to exterior objects, as to be wholly ab
sorbed by their impression; and here is the
ordinary source of all our vice. Have we some
real, or some imaginary advantage? The idea
of our superiority engrosses our whole atten
tion: and here is the source of our pride. Are
we in the presence of an object congenial to
our cupidity? The sentiment of pleasure im
mediately fills the whole capacity of the soul;
and here is the source of our intemperance: it
is the same with every vice. Have you the
art of fixing the attention of men, of recalling
their wandering thoughts: and thereby of re
claiming them to duty; you will acknowledge,
that the beings you had taken for monsters, are
really men, who, as I said, sin less by malice
than dissipation.

But of all the means calculated to produce
the recollection so essential to make us wise,
adversity is the most effectual. How should
a man delight his heart with a foolish gran
deur; how should he abandon himself to pride,
when all around him speaks his meanness and
impotency; when appalled by the sight of a
sovereign judge, and burdened by his heavy
hand: he has no resource but humility and
submission? How should he give up himself
to intemperance when afflicted with excruci
ating pains, and oppressed with the approaches
of death? When, therefore, adversity is un
availing; when a people equally resist the ter
rific warnings of the prophet, and the strokes
of God's hand, for whom he speaks; when their
corruption is proof against mortality, against
the plague, against famine; what resource re
mains for their conversion? This was, how
ever, the degree of hardness to which the Jews,
in Jeremiah's time, had attained. " O Lord,
thou hast stricken them, but they have not
grieved; thou hast consumed them, but they
have refused to receive instruction; they have
made their faces harder than a rock."

"O Lord, thou hast stricken them." My
brethren, the first part of our prophet's words
is now accomplished in our country, and in a
very terrific manner. Some difference the
mercy of God does make between us, and those
neighbouring nations, among whom the plajua

348

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

[SER. XCI1.

is making so dreadful a progress; but though
our horizon is not yet infected, though the
breath of our hearers is not yet corrupt, and
though our streets present not yet to our view
' heaps of dead, whose mortal exhalations,
threaten the living, and to whose burial, those
who survive are scarcely sufficient, we are
nevertheless under the hand of God; I would
say, under his avenging hand; his hand already
uplifted to plunge us into the abyss of national
ruin. What else are those plagues which
walk in our streets? What is this mortality
of our cattle which has now continued so many
years? what else is this suspension of credit,
this loss of trade, this ruin of so many families,
and so many more on the brink of ruin? " O
Lord, thou hast stricken them." The first part
then is but too awfully accomplished in our
country.

I should deem it an abuse of the liberty al
lowed me in this pulpit, were I to say, without
restriction, that the second is likewise accom
plished; "but they have not grieved." The
solemnity of the day; the proclamation of our
fast; the whole of these provinces prostrated to
day at the feet of the Most High; so many voices
crying to Heaven, " O thou sword of the Lord,
intoxicated with blood, return into thy scab
bard;" all would convict me of declamation, if
I should say, "O Lord thou hast stricken them,
but they have not grieved."

But, my brethren, have we then no part in
this reproach? Do we feel as we ought, the
calamities that God hath sent? Come to-day,
Christians; come and learn of our prophet to
hearken to the voice of God. What voice? the
voice strong and mighty; the voice which light-
eneth with flames of fire; the loud voice of his
judgments. " Hear ye the rod, and him who
hath appointed it."

My brethren, on the hearing of this voice,
what sort of requests shall we make? Shall we
not say, as the ancient people, " Let not the
Lord speak to us lest we die?" No, let us not
adopt this language. — O great God, the con
tempt we have made of thy staff, when thy
clemency caused us to repose in green pastures,
renders essential the rod of thy correction. Now
is the crisis to suffer, or to perish. Strike, strike,
Lord, provided we may be converted and saved.
Speak with thy lightning; speak with thy thun
der; speak with thy flaming bolts; but teach us
to hear thy voice. " Speak, Lord, for thy ser
vants hear." And you, my brethren, " Hear
ye the rod, and him who hath appointed it."
Amen.

This, in substance, is,

I. To feel the strokes of God's hand:

II. To trace their consequences and connex
ions:

III. To examine their origin and causes.

IV. To discover their resources and remedies.
This rs to comply with the exhortation of Mi-
cah; this is to shelter ourselves from the charge
of Jeremiah; this is especially to comply with
the design of this solemnity. If we feel the
strokes of God's hand, we shall shake off a cer
tain state of indolence in which many of us are
found, and be clothed with the sentiments of
humiliation: this is the first duty of the day. If
we trace the consequences and connexion of
our calamities, we shall be inspired with the

sentiments of terror and awe: this is the second
disposition of a fast. If we examine their origin
and cause, we shall be softened with sentiments
of sorrow and repentance: this is the third dis
position of a fast. If we, lastly, discover the
remedies and resources, we shall be animated
with the sentiments of genuine conversion: thia
is the fourth disposition of a fast. It is by re
flections of this kind that I would close these
solemn duties, and make, if I may so speak, the
applications of those energetic words addressed
to us by the servants of God on this day.

I. " Hear ye the rod:" feel the strokes with
which you are already struck. There is one
disposition of the mind which may be con
founded with that we would wish to inspire.
The sensation of these calamities may be so
strong as to unnerve the understanding, and
overspread the mind with a total gloom and de
jection. The soul of which we speak, feasts on
its grief, and is wholly absorbed in the causes
of its anguish. The privation of a good once
enjoyed, renders it perfectly indifferent as to the
blessings which still remain. The strokes which
God has inflicted, appear to it the greatest of
all calamities. Neither the beauties of nature,
nor the pleasures of conversation, nor the mo
tives of piety, have charms adequate to extin
guish, nor even assuage anguish which corrodes
and consumes the soul. Hence those torrents
of tears; hence those deep and frequent sighs;
hence those loud and bitter complaints; hence
those unqualified augurs of disaster and ruin.
To feel afflictions in this way, is a weakness of
mind which disqualifies us for supporting the
slightest reverses of life. It is an ingratitude
which obstructs our acknowledging the favours
of that God, who, " in the midst of wrath, re
members mercy," and who never so far afflicts
his creature, as to deprive him of reviving hope.

The insensibility we wish to prevent, is a vice
directly opposed to that we have just decried.
It is the insensibility of the man of pleasure.
He must enjoy life; but nothing is more strik
ingly calculated to correct his notions, and de
range the system of present pleasure, than this
idea: the sovereign of the universe is irritated
against us: his sword is suspended over our
heads: his avenging arm is making awful havoc
around us: thousands have already fallen be
neath his strokes on our right, and ten thousand
on our left, Ps. xci. 7. We banish these ideas:
but this being difficult to do, we repose behind
intrenchments which they cannot penetrate;
and by augmenting the confusion of the pas
sions, we endeavour to divert our attention from
the calamities of the public.

The insensibility we wish to prevent, is a phi
losophical apathy. We brave adversity. We
fortify ourselves with a stoical firmness. We
account it wise, superior wisdom to be unmoved
by the greatest catastrophes. We enshroud the
mind in an ill-named virtue; and we pique our
selves on the vain glory of being unmoved,
though the universe were dissolved.

The insensibility we wish to prevent is that
which arises from a stupid ignorance. Some
men are naturally more difficult to be moved
than the brutes destitute of reason. They are
resolved to remain where they are, until extri
cated by an exterior cause; and these are the
very men who resist that cause. They shut

SER. XCIL]

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

349

their eyes against the avenues of alarm; they
harden their hearts against calamities by the
mere dint of reason, or rather by the mere in
stinct of nature; because if seriously regarded,
some efforts would be required to avert the vi
sitation.

But whether God afflict us in love, or strike
in wrath; whether he afflict us for instruction,
or chasten us for correction, our first duty un
der the rod is to acknowledge the equity of his
hand.

Does he afflict us for the exercise of our re
signation and our patience? To correspond with
his design, we must acknowledge the equity of
his hand. We must each say, It is true, my
fortune fluctuates, my credit is injured, and my
prospects are frustrated; but it is the great Dis
poser of all events who has assorted my lot; it
is my Lord and Ruler. O God, " thy will be
done, and not mine. I was dumb, and opened
not my mouth, because it was thy doing," Matt,
xx vi. 39; Ps. xxxix. 9.

Does he afflict us in order to put our love to
the proof? To correspond with his design, we
must acknowledge the equity of his hand. We
must learn to say, " I think that God has made
us a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to
men. If in this life only we have hope in Christ,
we are of all men most miserable." O God!
" though thou slay me, yet will I trust in thee,"
1 Cor. iv. 9; xv. 19; Job xiii. 15.

Does he afflict us in order to detach us from
the world? To correspond with his design, we
must acknowledge the equity of his hand. It
is requisite that this son should die, who con
stitutes the sole enjoyment of our life; it is re
quisite that we should feel the anguish of the
disease to which we are exposed; it is requisite
this health should fail, without which the asso
ciation of every pleasure is insipid and obtrusive,
that we may learn to place our happiness in the
world to come, and not establish our hopes in
this valley of tears.

Does he afflict us to make manifest the enor
mity of vice? To correspond with his design,
we must acknowledge the equity of his hand.
We must acknowledge the horrors of the ob
jects our passions had painted with such be
guiling tints. Amid the anguish consequent on
crimes, we must put the question to ourselves
which St. Paul put to the Romans; " What
fruits had you then in those things, whereof you
are now ashamed? For the end of those things
is death." Sensibility of the strokes God has
already inflicted by his rod, was the first dis
position of mind which Micah in his day, re
quired of the Jews.

If you ask what those strokes were with which
God afflicted the Israelites, it is not easy to give
you satisfaction. The correctest researches of
chronology do not mark the exact period in
which Micah delivered the words of my text.
We know only that he exercised his ministry
under three kings, under Jotham, under Ahaz,
under Hezekiah; and that under each of these
kings, God afflicted the kingdom of Judah, and
of Israel with severe strokes. — And the solem
nities of the present day excuse me from the
laws, binding to a commentator, of illustrating
a text in all the original views of the author.
Wo must neither divert our feelings nor divide
our attention, between the calamities God sent

on Judah and Israel, and those he has sent on
us. We exhort you to sensibility concerning
the visitations of Providence: four ministers of
the God of vengeance address you with a voice
more loud and pathetic than mine. These mi
nisters are, the tempests; the murrain; the
plague; and the spirit of indifference.

The first minister of the God of vengeance is
the tempest. Estimate, if you are able, the de
vastations made by the tempest during the last
ten years; the districts they have ravaged; the
vessels they have wrecked; the inundations they
have occasioned; and the towns they have laid
under water. Would you not have thought
that the earth was about to return to its original
chaos; that the sea had broke the bounds pre
scribed by the Creator; and that the earth had
ceased to be "balanced on its poles?" Job
xxxviii. 6.

The second minister of the God of vengeance,
exciting alarm, is the mortality of our cattle.
The mere approaches of this calamity filled us
with terror, and became the sole subjects of con
versation. Your sovereign appointed public
prayers and solemn humiliations, to avert the
scourge. Your preachers made extraordinary
efforts, entreating you to enter into the design
of God, who had sent it upon us. But to what
may not men become accustomed? We some
times wonder how they can enjoy the least re
pose in places where the earth often quakes;
where its dreadful jaws open; where a black vo
lume of smoke obscures the light of heaven;
where mountains of flame, from subterranean
caverns, rise to the highest clouds, and descend
in liquid rivers on houses, and on whole towns.
Let us seek in ourselves the solution of a diffi
culty suggested by the insensibility of others.
We are capable of accustoming ourselves to any
thing. Were we to judge of the impressions
future judgments would produce by the effects
produced by those God has already sent, we
should harden our hearts against both pestilence
and famine; we should attend concerts, though
the streets were thronged with the groans of
dying men, and join the public games in pre
sence of the destroying angel sent to extermi
nate the nation.

The third minister of God's vengeance, ex
citing us to sensibility, is the plague, which ra
vages a neighbouring kingdom. Your provinces
do not subsist of themselves; they have an inti
mate relation with all the states of Europe.
And such is the nature of their constitution,
that they not only suffer from the prosperity,
but even from the adversity, of their enemies.
But what do I say? from their enemies! The
people whom God has now visited with this
awful scourge, are not our enemies; they are
our allies; they are our brethren; they are our
fellow-countrymen. The people on whom God
has laid his hand in so terrible a manner, is the
kingdom which gave some of us birth, and
which still contains persons to whom we are
united by the tenderest ties. Every stroke this
kingdom receives, recoils on ourselves, and it
cannot fall without involving us in its ruins.

The fourth minister of the God of vengeance,
which calls for consideration, is the spirit of
slumber. It would seem that God had desig
nated our own hands to be our own ruin. It
would seem that he had given a demon from

350

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

[SER. XCII

the depths of hell a commission like that granted
to the spirit mentioned in thq first Book of
Kings. " The Lord said, who shall persuade
Ahab that he may go up and fall at Ramoth-
Gilead? And there came forth a spirit, and said,
I will persuade him. And the Lord said. Yea,
thou shall persuade him, and prevail," xxii. 20.
22. Yea, a spirit who has sworn the overthrow
of our families, the ruin of our arts and manu
factures, the destruction of our commerce, and
the loss of our credit, this spirit has fascinated
us all. He seizes the great and the small, the
court and the city. But I abridge my intentions
on this subject; I yield to the reasons which for
bid my extending to farther detail. To feel the
strokes of God's hand, is most assuredly the first
duty he requires. " Hear ye the rod, and who
hath appointed it."

II. This rod requires us, secondly, to trace
the causes and the origin of our calamities.
Micah wished the Jews to comprehend that
the miseries under which they groaned were a
consequence of their crimes. We would wish
you to form the same judgment of yours. But
here the subject has its difficulties. Under a
pretence of entering into the spirit of humilia
tion, there is danger of our falling into the
puerilities of superstition. Few subjects are
more fertile in erroneous conclusions than this
subject. Temporal prosperity and adversity
are very equivocal marks of the favour and dis
pleasure of God. If some men are so wilfully
blind as not to see that a particular dispensa
tion of Providence is productive of certain pun
ishments, there are others who fancy that they
every where see a particular providence. The
commonest occurrences, however closely con
nected with secondary causes, seem to them
the result of an extraordinary counsel in him
who holds the helm of the world. The slight
est adversity they regard as a stroke of his an
gry arm. Generally speaking, we should al
ways recollect that the conduct of Providence
is involved in clouds and darkness. We should
form the criterion of our guilt or innocence not
by the exterior prosperity or adversity sent of
God, but by our obedience or disobedience td
his word; and we should habituate ourselves to
see, without surprise in this world, the wicked
prosperous, and the righteous afflicted.

But notwithstanding the obscurity in which
it has pleased God to involve his ways, there
are cases, in which we cannot without impiety
refuse assent, that adversity is increased by
crimes. It is peculiarly apparent in two cases:
fast , when there is a natural connexion between
the crimes you have committed, and the ca
lamities we suffer: the second is, when the great
calamities immediately follow the perpetration
of enormous crimes. Let us explain:

First; we cannot doubt that punishment is a
consequence of crime, when there is an essen
tial tie between the crime we have committed,
and the calamity we suffer. One of the finest
proofs of the holiness of the God, to whom all
creatures owe their preservation and being, is
derived from the harmony he has placed be
tween happiness and virtue. Trace this har
mony in the circles of society, and in private
life. 1. In private life. An enlightened mind
can find no solid happiness but in the exercise
of virtue. The passions may indeed excite a

transient satisfaction; but a state of violence
cannot be permanent. Each passion offers vio
lence to some faculty of the soul, to which that
faculty is abandoned. The happiness procured
by the passions is founded on mistake: the mo
ment the soul recovers recollection, the happi
ness occasioned by error is dissipated. The
happiness ascribed to avarice is grounded on
the same mistake: it is couched in this princi
ple, that gold and silver are the true riches:
and the moment that the soul which establish
ed its happiness on a false principle becomes
enlightened; the moment it investigates the
numerous cases in which riches are not only
useless, but destructive, it loses the happiness
founded on mistake. We may reason in the
same manner concerning the other passions.
There is then in the soul of every man a har
mony between happiness and virtue, misery
and crime.

2. This harmony is equally found in the
great circles of national society. I am not
wholly unacquainted with the maxims which
a false polity would advance on the subject. I
am not ignorant of what Hobbes, Machiavel,
and their disciples, ancient and modern, have
said. And I frankly confess, that I feel the
force of the difficulties opposed to this general
thesis, of the happiness of nations being insepa
rable from their innocence. But notwithstand
ing all the difficulties of which the thesis is
susceptible, I think myself able to maintain,
and prove, that all public happiness founded
on crime, is like the happiness of the individual
just described. It is a state of violence, which
cannot be permanent. From the sources of
those same vices on which a criminal polity
would found the happiness of the state, pro
ceeds a long train of calamities which are evi
dently productive of total ruin.

Without encumbering ourselves with these
discussions, without reviving this controversy,
the better to keep in view the grand objects
of the day, I affirm, that the calamities under
which we groan are the necessary consequence
of our crimes; and in such sort, that though
there were no God of vengeance who holds the
helm of the universe, no judge ready to exe
cute justice, our degeneracy into every vice
would suffice to involve our country in misery.

Under what evils do we now groan? Is it
because our name is less respected? Is it be
cause our credit is less established? Is it be
cause our armies are less formidable? Is it be
cause our union is less compact? But whence
do these calamities proceed? Are they the
mysteries of " a God, who hideth himself?"
Are they strokes inflicted by an invisible hand?
Or are they the natural effects and consequen
ces of our crimes? Does it require miracles to
produce them? If so, miracles would be requi
site to prevent them. Men of genius, pro
found statesmen, you who send us to our books,
and to the dust of our closets, when we talk
of Providence, and of plagues inflicted by an
avenging God, I summon your speculation and
superior information to this one point: "our
destruction is of ourselves:" and the Judge of
the universe has no need to punish our crimes
but by our crimes.

I have said, in the second place, that great
calamities following great crimes, ought to be

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351

regarded as their punishment. And shall we
refuse, in this day of humiliation, ascribing to
this awful cause the strokes with which we are
afflicted? Cast your eyes for a moment on the
nature of the crimes which reproach these pro
vinces. All nations have their vices, and vices
in which they resemble one another; all nations
afford the justest cause for reprehension. Read
the various books of morality, consult the ser
mons delivered among the most enlightened
nations, and you will every where see that the
great are proud, the poor impatient, the aged
covetous, the young voluptuous, and so of
every class. Meanwhile all sorts of vice have
not a resemblance. Weigh a passage in Deu
teronomy in which you will find a distinction
between sin and sin, and a distinction worthy
of peculiar regard. " Their spot," says Moses,
" is not the spot of the children of God," xxxii.
5. There is then a spot of the children of God,
and a spot which is not of his children. There
are infirmities found among a people dear to
God, and there are defects incompatible with
his people. To receive the sacrament of the
Eucharist, but not with all the veneration re
quired by so august a mystery; to celebrate
days of humiliation, but not with all the deep
repentance we should bring to these solemni
ties; these are great spots; but they are spots
common to the children of God. To fall,
however, as the ancient Israelites, whose eyes
were still struck with the miracles wrought on
their leaving Egypt; " to change the glory of
God into the similitude of an ox that eateth
grass; and to raise a profane shout. These be
thy gods, O Israel, which have brought thee
up out of the land of Egypt," is a spot, but
not "the spot of the children of God," Exod.
xxxii. 8.

Now, my brethren, can you cast your eyes
on these provinces, without recognising a num
ber of sins of the latter class? In some fami
lies, the education of youth is so astonishingly
neglected, that we see parents training up their
children for the first offices of the republic, for
offices which decide the honour, the fortune,
and the lives of men, without so much as initi
ating them into the sciences, essentially requi
site for the adequate discharge of professional
duties. Profaneness is so prevalent, and indif
ference for the homage we pay to God is so
awful, that we see people passing whole years
without ever entering our sanctuaries; me
chanics publicly follow their labour on the sab
bath; women in the polished circles of society
choose the hour of our worship to pay their
visits, and expose card-tables, if I may so speak,
in the sight of our altars. Infidelity is so rife,
that the presses groan with works to immorta
lize blasphemies against the being of God, and
to sap the foundation of public morals. How
easy would it be to swell this catalogue! My
brethren, on a subject so awful, let us not de
ceive ourselves; these are not the spots of the
children of God; they are the very crimes
which bring upon nations, the malediction of
God, and which soon or late occasion their to
tal overthrow.

III. To feel the calamities under which we
now groan, and to trace their origin is not
enough: we must anticipate the future: the
third sort of regard required for the strokes

with which we are struck, is to develop their
consequences and connexions. Some calami
ties are less formidable in themselves than in
the awful consequences they produce. There
are " deeps which call unto deeps at the noise
of God's water-spouts," Ps. xlii. 8; and to sum
up all in one word, there are calamities whose
distinguished characteristic is to be the fore
runners of calamities still more terrible. Such
was the character of those inflicted on the king
dom of Judah and of Israel in Micah's time, as
is awfully proved by the ruin of both.

Is this the idea we should form of the plagues
with which we are struck? Never was question
more serious and interesting, my brethren; and,
at the same time, never was question more deli
cate and difficult. Do not fear, that forgetting
the limits with which it has pleased God to
circumscribe our knowledge, we are about with
a profane hand to raise the veil which conceals
futurity, and pronounce with temerity awful
predictions on the destiny of these provinces.
We shall merely mark the signs by which the
prophet would have the ancient people to un
derstand, that the plagues God had already in
flicted were but harbingers of those about to
follow. Supply by your own reflections, the
cautious silence we shall observe on this sub
ject: examine attentively what connexion may
exist between calamities we now suffer, ani
those which made the ancient Jews expect a.
total overthrow. And those signs of an im
pending calamity are less alarming in them
selves, than the dispositions of the people o|i
whom they are inflicted.

1 . One calamity is the forerunner of a great
er, when the people whom God afflicts ha^e
recourse to second causes instead of the firdt
cause; and when they seek the redress of their
calamities in political resources, and not in re
ligion. This is the portrait which Isaiah giv^s
of Sennacherib's first expedition against Judet.
The prophet recites it in the twenty-second
chapter of his book. "He discovered the co
vering of Judah, and thou didst look in that
day to the armour of the house of the forest.
Ye have seen also the breaches of the city of
David, that they are many: and ye gathered
together the waters of the lower pool. And
ye have numbered the house of Jerusalem, and
the houses have ye broken down to fortify the
wall. Ye made also a ditch between the twc
walls, for the water of the old pool; but ye
have not looked unto the Maker thereof, nei
ther have ye had respect unto him that fa
shioned it long ago. And in that day did the
Lord God of Hosts call to weeping and to
mourning, and to plucking of the hair, and to
girding with sackcloth. And behold, joy and
gladness, slaying oxen and killing sheep, eating
flesh, and drinking wine: let us eat and drink
for to-morrow we shall die. And it was re
vealed in mine ears by the Lord of Hosts, sure
ly this iniquity shall not be purged from you."

It belongs to you to make the application of
this passage; it belongs to you to inquire" what
resemblance our present conduct may have to
that of the Jews in a similar situation. Whe
ther it is to the first cause you have had re
course for the removal of your calamities, or
whether you have solely adhered to second
causes? whether it is the maxims of religion

352

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

[SEE. XCII.

you have consulted, or the maxims of policy?
whether it is a barrier you have pretended to
put to the war, to the pestilence, and famine;
or whether you have put one to injustice, to
hatred, to fornication, and to fraud, the causes
of those calamities!

2. One calamity is the forerunner of great
er calamities, when instead of humiliation on
the reception of the warnings God sends by
his servants, we turn those warnings into con
tempt. By this sign, the author of the second
Book of Chronicles wished the Jews to under
stand that their impiety had attained its height.
"The Lord God of their fathers sent unto
them by his messengers, rising up betimes and
sending; because he had compassion on his
people: but they mocked the messengers of
God; they despised his word, and misused his
prophets, until the wrath of the Lord arose
against his people, so that there was no re
medy," xxxvii. 15, 16.

My brethren, it is your duty to inquire how
far you are affected by this doctrine. It is
your duty to examine whether your present
desolating calamities are characterized as har
bingers of greater evils. Do you discover a
teachable disposition towards the messengers
cf God who would open jour eyes to see the
effects of his indignation; or, do you revolt
against their word? Do you love to be re
proved and corrected, or do you resemble the
incorrigible man of whom the prophet says,
" thou hatest instruction," Ps. 1. 17. What a
humiliating subject, my brethren, what an aw
ful touchstone of our misery!

3. One calamity is the forerunner of great
er calamities, when the anguish it excites pro
ceeds more from the loss of our perishable
riches than from sentiments of the insults of
fered to God. This sign, the prophet Hosea
gave to the inhabitants of Samaria, " Though
1 have redeemed them," says he, speaking for
God, " they have not cried unto me with their
heart, when they howled upon their beds."
It was for corn and wine, that they cut them
selves when they assembled together; or as
might be better rendered, when they assem-^
bled for devotion.* Examine again, or rather
censure a subject which presents the mind with
a question less for inquiry than for the admis
sion of a fact already decided. We would in
terrupt our business; we would suspend our
pleasures; we would shed our tears; we would
celebrate fasts on the recollection of our
crimes, provided we could be assured that
God would remit the punishment' We " cut
ourselves; we assemble to-day for wine and
wheat;" because commerce is obstructed; be
cause our repose is interrupted in defiance of
precaution; because the thunderbolts fallen on
the heads of our neighbours threaten us, and
our friends, our brethren, and our children; or
is it because that those paternal regards of
God are obscured, which should constitute our
highest felicity, and all our joys? I say again,

* The original word is so translated in the French bi
bles, Ps. Ivi. 7; lix. 4. The French version, in regard to
the former phrase, They cut themselves, seems to harmo
nize better with the scope of the passage than the English,
They rebel, because it follows, Though I had bound and
strengthened their arms, meaning their wounded arms.

this is a subject already decided rather than a
question of investigation.

4. Not wishful to multiply remarks, but to
comprise the whole in a single thought, one
plague is the forerunner of greater plagues
when it fails in producing the reformation of
those manners it was sent to chastise. Weigh
those awful words in the twenty-sixth chapter
of Leviticus. " If ye will not hearken unto
me, but walk contrary unto me; then I will
walk contrary also unto you in fury; and I,
even I, will chastise you seven times for your
sins." The force of these words depends on
those which proceed. We there find a grada
tion of calamities whose highest period extends
to the total destruction of the people against
whom they were denounced. " If you will
not hearken," Moses had said in behalf of
God, verse 14, " I will even appoint over you
terror, the consumption, and the burning ague,
that shall consume the eyes, and cause sorrow
of Heart. And I will set my face against you,
and ye shall be slain before your enemies:
they that hate you shall reign over you, and
ye shall flee when none pursueth you." Im
mediately he adds, " If ye will not for all this
hearken," and these words occur at the eigh
teenth verse, " If ye will not yet for all this
hearken unto me, then will I punish you seven
times more for your sins. And I will break
the pride of your power; and I will make your
heaven as iron, and your earth as brass. And
if ye walk contrary to me, I will bring seven
times more plagues upon you according to
your sins. And I will send the wild beast
against you, and they shall rob you of your
children, and make you few in number, and
your highways shall be desolate." Then he
denounces a new train of calamities, after
which the words I have cited immediately fol
low. " If ye will not be reformed by all these
things, but will walk contrary unto me, then
will I also walk contrary unto you in fury, and
will punish you yet seven times for your sins.
And ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and
the flesh of your daughters. And I will de
stroy your high places, and cut down your
images, and cast your carcase upon the carca
ses of your idols. And I will make your cities
waste, and bring your sanctuary unto desola
tion."

Make, my brethren, the most serious reflec
tions on these words of God to his ancient
people. If in the strictest sense, they are in
applicable to you, it is because your present ca
lamities require less than sevenfold more to ef
fectuate your total extermination. Do I exag
gerate the subject? Are your sea-banks able
to sustain sevenfold greater shocks than they
have already received? Are your cattle able
to sustain sevenfold heavier strokes? Is your
commerce able to sustain a sevenfold greater
depression? Is there then so wide a distance
between your present calamities, and your
total ruin?

IV. Let us proceed to other subjects. Hi
therto, my dear brethren, we have endeavour
ed to open your eyes, and fix them steadfastly
on dark and afflictive objects; we have solici
ted your attention but for bitter reproaches,
and terrific menaces. We have sought the way

SER. XCIL]

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

353

to your hearts, but to excite terror and alarm.
The close of this day's devotion shall be more
conformable to prayers we offer for you, to the
goodness of the God we worship, and to the
character of our ministry. We will no longer
open your eyes but to fix them on objects of
consolation; we will no longer solicit your at
tention to hear predictions of misery: we will
seek access to your hearts solely to augment
your peace and consolation. " Hear the rod,
and who hath appointed it;" and amid the
whole of your calamities, know what are your
resources, and what are your hopes. This is
our fourth part.

One of the most notorious crimes of which
a nation can be guilty when Heaven calls
them to repentance, is that charged on the
Jews in Jeremiah's time. The circumstance
is remarkable. It occurs in the sixteenth
chapter of this prophet's ' revelations. His
mission was on the eve of their approaching
ruin: its object was to save by fear the men
whom a long course of prosperity could not
instruct. He discharged those high duties
with the firmness and magnanimity which the
grandeur of God was calculated to inspire,
whose minister he had the glory to be. " Be
cause your fathers have forsaken me," he said
in the name of the Lord, " and have walked
after other gods, and have served them, and
have worshipped before them; and because ye
have done worse than your fathers, therefore
will I cast you out of this land, into a land
which neither ye, nor your fathers know,"
ver. 11—13.

Lest the apprehension of ruin without re
source should drive them to despair, God
made to Jeremiah a farther communication; he
honoured him with a vision saying, ': Arise,
and go down to the potter's house, and there
I will cause thee to hear my words." The
prophet obeyed; he went to the potter's house;
the workman was busy at the wheel. He
formed a vase, which was marred in his hand;
he made it anew, and gave it a form according
to his pleasure. This emblem God explained
to the prophet, saying, Go, and speak these
words to the house of Israel. " O house of
Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter?
saith the Lord. Behold as the clay is in the
potter's 'hand, so are ye in my hand, O house
of Israel. At what instant I shall speak con
cerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom
to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy
it: if that nation against whom I have pro
nounced, turn from their evil, I will repent of
the evil that I thought to do unto them. Re
turn ye now every one from his evil way, and
amend your ways." What effects might not
this mission have produced? But the incorri
gible depravity of the people was proof against
this additional overture of grace; those abomi
nable men, deriving arguments of obduracy
even from the desperate situation of their na
tion, replied to the prophet, " There is no hope,
we will walk after our own devices, and we
will every one do the imagination of his evil
neart," xviii. 1 — 12.

Revolting at those awful dispositions, we
are, my brethren, invested with the same com
mission as Jeremiah. God has said to us as
well as to this prophet, " Go down to the pot-
VOL. II.— 45

ter's house; see him mar, and form his vessels
anew, giving them a form according to his
pleasure." Behold, as the clay is in the pot
ter's hand, so are ye in my hand, O house of
Israel. At what instant I shall speak concern
ing a nation, and concerning a kingdom to
pluck up, and pull down, and to destroy it; if
that nation against whom I have pronounced,
turn from their evil, I will repent of the evil
that I thought to do unto them." The foun
dation of these hopes is stronger than all that
we can ask.

In particular, we found our hope on the love
which God has uniformly cherished for this
republic. Has not God established it by a se
ries of miracles, and has he not preserved it
by a series of miracles still greater? Has he
not at all times surrounded it as with a wall of
fire, and been himself the buckler on the most
pressing occasions? Has he not inverted the
laws of nature, and of the elements for it3
defence?

We found our hopes on the abundant mer
cies with which God has loaded us during the
time of visitation. With the one hand he
abases, with the other he exalts. With the one
hand he brings the pestilence to our gates, and
with the other he obstructs it from entering;
from desolating our cities, and attacking our
persons.

We found our hope on the resources he has
still left the state to recover, and to re-estab
lish itself in all the extent of its glory and
prosperity. We found our hopes also on the
solemnities of this day; on the abundance of
tears which will be shed in the presence of
God, on the many prayers which will be offer
ed to heaven, and on th 2 numerous purposes
of conversion, which will be formed. Frus
trate not these hopes by a superficial devotion,
by forgetfulness of promises, and violation of
vows. Your happiness is in your own hands.
" Return ye now every one from his evil way,
and amend your doings." Here is the law,
here is the condition. This law is general; this
condition concerns you all.

Yes, this law concerns you; this condition is
imposed on all. High and mighty lords: it is
required of you this day to lay a new founda
tion for the security of this people: Return ye
then, my lords, from your evil ways and be
converted. In vain shall you have proclaimed
a fast, if you set not the fairest example of de
cency in its celebration. In vain shall you
have commanded pastors to preach against the
corruption which predominates among us, if
you lend not an arm to suppress it; if you suf
fer profaneness and infidelity to lift their head
with impunity; if you suffer the laws of chas
tity to be violated in the face of the sun, and
houses of infamy to be open as those of tem
ples consecrated to the glory of God; if you
suffer public routs and sports to subsist in all
their fury; if you abandon the reins to mam
mon, to establish its maxims, and communi
cate its poison, if possible, to all our towns and
provinces. Have compassion, then, on the ca-
I lamities of our country. Be impressed with
| its sighs. Place her under the immediate pro-
} tection of Almighty God. May he deign, in
[ clothing you with his grandeur and power, to
I clothe you also with holiness and equity. May

354

THE VOICE OF THE ROD.

[SER. XCIL

he deign to give you the Spirit of Esdras, of
Nehemiah, of Josiah, of Hezekiah, princes
distinguished in the sacred Scriptures, who
brought their nation back to reformation and
piety, and thereby to happiness and glory.

This law concerns you, this condition, pas
tors, is imposed on you. " Return from your
evil ways and amend." The ministry with
which God has invested you; this ministry, at
all times weighty and difficult, is particularly
so in this age of contradiction and universal
depravity. You are appointed to censure the
vices of the people, and every one is enraged
against you, the moment you cast an eye on
his particular crimes. They will treat you as
enemies when you tell them the truth. No
matter. Force your hearers to respect you.
Testify to them by your generosity and disin
terestedness, that you are ready to make every
sacrifice to sustain the glory of your ministry.
Give them as many examples as precepts; and
then ascend the pulpit with a mind confident
and firm. You have the same right over the
people, as the Isaiahs, as the Micahs, and as
the Jeremiahs, had over Israel and Judah.
You can say like them, the Lord has spoken.
And may the God who has invested you with
the sacred office you fill, may he grant you the
talents requisite for its faithful discharge; may
he assist you by the most intimate communi
cations in the closet, to bear the crosses laid
upon you by the public; may he deign to ac
cept the purity of your intentions, to have
compassion on your weakness, and enable you
to redouble your efforts by the blessings he shall
shed on your work!

This law concerns you, this condition is im
posed on you, rebellious men: on you sinners,
who have excelled in the most awful courses
of vice, in fighting, in hatred, in brutality, in
profaneness, in insolence, and every other
crime which confounds the human kind with
demons. It is you, chiefly you who have up
lifted the arm of vengeance which pursues us;
it is you who have dug those pits which are
under our feet. But " return from your evil
ways, and amend." Let your reformation have
some proportion to your profligacy, and your
repentance to your crimes. And may the God
who can of these stones raise up children unto
Abraham, and make to rush from the hardest
rocks fountains of living water, may he deign
to display on you the invincible power he has
over the heart: may he penetrate the abyss of
your souls, and strike them in places the most
tender and susceptible of anguish, of shame,
and of repentance!

This law concerns you, it is imposed on you
believers; and believers even of the first class.
How pure soever your virtues may be, they are
still mixed with imperfections: how firm soever
the fabric of your piety may be, it still requires
support; and how sincere soever your endea
vours may be, they must still be repeated. It
is on you that the salvation of the nation de
volves. It is your piety, your fervour, and
your zeal, which must for the future sustain
this tottering republic. May there be ten
righteous persons in our Sodom, lest it be con
sumed by fire from heaven: may there still be

a Moses, who knows how to stay the arm of
God, and to say, O Lord, pardon this people;
" and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy
book," Exod. xxxii. 32. O how glorious to be
in a republic, if I may venture so to speak, the
stay of the state, and the cause of its exist
ence! May he who has chosen you to those
exalted duties, assist you to discharge them
with fidelity. May he purify all your yet re
maining defects and imperfections! May he
make you the salt of the earth, and enable
you to shine as lights in the rnidst of this
crooked and perverse generation, and cause
you to find in the delights which piety shall
afford, the first rewards of all the advantages
it procures.

This law concerns us all, this condition is
imposed on each. " Let us return from our
evil ways, and amend." Why would we delay
conversion? Why would we delay disarming
the wrath of heaven till overwhelmed with
its vengeance? Why should we delay our sup
plications till God shall " cover himself with
a cloud, that our prayers cannot pass through?"
Lam. iii. 44. WThy should we delay till wholly
enveloped in the threatened calamities? To
say all in a single word, why should we delay
till Holland becomes as Provence, and the
Hague as Marseilles?

Ah! what word is that we have just pro
nounced? what horrors does it not oblige us to
retrace? O consuming fire, God of vengeance,
animate our souls; and may the piercing and
awful ideas of thy judgments, induce us to
avert the blow. O dreadful times, where death
enters our houses with the air we breathe, and
with the food we eat; every one shuns himself
as death; the father fears the breath of his son,
and the son the breath of his father. O dread
ful times, already come on so many victims,
and perhaps ready to come on us, exhibit the
calamities in all their horrors! I look on my
self as stretched on my dying bed, and aban
doned by rny dearest friends; I look on my
children as entreating me to help them; I am
terrified by their approach, I am appalled by
their embraces, and receive the contagion by
their last adieu!

My brethren, the throne of mercy is yet ac
cessible. The devotion of so many saints who
have besieged it to-day, have opened it to us.
Let us approach it with broken and contrite
hearts. Let us approach it with promises of
conversion, and oaths of fidelity. Let us ap
proach it with ardent prayers for the salvation
of this republic; for the prosperity of the
church; for the peace of Europe; and for the
salvation of those victims, which the divine
justice is ready to sacrifice. Let us prostrate
before God as David at the sight of the de
stroying angel, and may we like that prince
succeed in staying the awful executions. May
this year, hitherto filled with alarms, with hor
ror, and carnage, close with hope and consola
tion. May this day, which has been a day of
fasting, humiliation, and repentance, produce
the solemnities of joy and thanksgiving. God
grant us the grace. To whom be honour and
glory for ever. Amen.

SER. XCITI.] DIFFICULTIES OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

355

SERMON XCIII.

DIFFICULTIES OF THE CHRISTIAN
RELIGION.

1 COR. xii. 9.
We know in part.

THE systems of pagan theology have, in gen
eral, affected an air of mystery; they have
evaded the light of fair investigation; and, fa
voured by I know not what charm of sancti
fied obscurity, they have given full effect to er
ror and immorality. On this subject, the ene
mies of Christianity have had the presumption
to confound it with the pagan superstition.
They have said, that it has, according to our
own confession, impenetrable mysteries; that
it is wishful to evade investigation and re
search; and that they have but to remove the
veil to discover its weakness. It is our design
to expose the injustice of this reproach by in
vestigating all the cases, in which mysteries
can excite any doubts concerning the doctrines
they contain, and to demonstrate on this head,
as on every other, that the religion of Jesus
Christ is superior to every other religion in the
world. It is solely in this point of view, that
we proceed to contemplate this avowal of our
apostle, and in all its principal bearings. " We
know in part."

There are chiefly four cases in which mys
teries render a religion doubtful.

I. When they so conceal the origin of a re
ligion, that we cannot examine whether it has
proceeded from the spirit of error, or from the
spirit of truth. For example, Mahomet seclud
ed himself from his followers; he affected to
hold conversations with God, concealed from
the public, and he has refused to adduce the
evidence. In this view, there is nothing mys
terious in the Christian religion; it permits you
to trace its origin, and to weigh the authen
ticity of its proofs.

II. Mysteries should render a religion doubt
ful, when they imply an absurdity. For ex
ample, the Roman Catholic religion establishes
one doctrine which avowedly revolts common
sense, and annihilates every motive of credi
bility. But the mysteries of our faith have no
thing which originated in the human mind,
and which our frail reason can in equity reject.

III. Mysteries should render a religion doubt
ful, when they tend to promote a practice con
trary to virtue, and to purity of morals. For
example, the pagan theology had mysteries of
iniquity; and under the sanction of religious
concealment, it favoured practices the most
enormous, and the foulest of vices. But the
mysteries of the gospel, are " mysteries of god
liness," 1 Tim. iii. 15.

IV. In a word, mysteries should render a re
ligion doubtful, when we find a system less en
cumbered with difficulties than the one we at
tack: but when the difficulties of the system
we propose, surpass those of our religion, then
it ought still to have the preference. For ex
ample, the system of infidelity and of atheism,
is exempt from the difficulties of Christianity;
but, its whole mass is a fertile source of incom

prehensible absurdities, and of difficulties which
cannot be resolved.

The whole of these propositions, my bre
thren, claim the most careful investigation. If
Heaven shall succeed our efforts, we shall
have a new class of arguments for the support
of our faith. We shall have a new motive to
console ourselves within the limits God has
prescribed to our knowledge, and await with
ardour and patience, the happy period, till
"that which is perfect shall come;" till that
" which is in part shall be done away;" till
" we shall behold the Lord with open face,
and be changed into glory by his Spirit." So
be it. Amen.

1. Mysteries should render a religion doubt
ful, when we cannot examine whether that re
ligion proceed from the spirit of truth, or from
the spirit of error. Mankind neither can, nor
ought to receive any religion as divine, unless
it bear the marks of divine authority, and pro
duce its documents of credibility.

For example, if you should require Maho
met to produce the proofs of his mission, he
would say* that it had a peculiar character,
and a singular sort of privilege; that till his
call, all the sent of God were obliged to prove
the divinity of their mission; and the prophets
gave signs by which they might be known:
that Jesus Christ gave sight to the blind, hear
ing to the deaf, health to the sick, and life to
the dead: but on his part, he had received au
thority to consign over to eternal torments,
every one who shall dare to doubt the truth of
his doctrine; and anticipating the punishment,
he put every one to the sword who presumed
to question the divine authority of his religion.
But if you require of Jesus Christ the proofs
of his mission, he will give you evidence the
most obvious and satisfactory. "Though ye
believe not me, believe the works. If I had
not come and spoken unto them; if I had not
done among them the works which no other
man did, they had not had sin. But now are
they without excuse. The works that I do in
my Father's name, they bear witness of me,"
John x. 25. 38; xv. 22. 24.

If you ask the followers of Mahomet, how
they know that the Alcoran was really trans
mitted by the prophet, they will confess that
he knew neither how to read nor write; and
that the name of prophet is often assumed by
men ignorant of letters: but they will add,
that he conversed for twenty years with the
angel Gabriel; that this celestial spirit reveal
ed to him, from time to time, certain passages
of the Alcoran; that Mahomet dictated to his
disciples] the subjects of his revelation; that
they carefully collected whatever dropped from,
his lips; and that the collection so made con
stitutes the subject of the Alcoran. But, if
you wish to penetrate farther, and to trace the
book to its source, you will find that after the
death of Mahomet, his pretended revelations,
were preserved merely on fugitive scrolls, or in
the recollection of those who had heard him;
that his successor, wishful to associate the scat-

* See the Alcoran, chap, on the lin. of Joach; chap, on
gratifications; chap, on Jonah; chap, on thunder; chap,
on the nocturnal journey; chap, on the Creator; chap,
on the spider.

f See Maraccio on the Alcoran, page 36.

356

DIFFICULTIES OF THE

[SER. XCII1

tered limbs in one body, made the collection
more with presumption than precision; that
this collection was a subject of long debate
among the Mahometans, some contending that
the prince had omitted many revelations of the
prophet; and others, that he had adopted some
which were doubtful and spurious. You will
find, that those disputes were appeased solely
by the authority of the prince under whom they
originated, and by the permanent injunctions
of those who succeeded him on the throne.
Consequently, it is very doubtful, whether the
impostures of Mahomet really proceeded from
himself, or were imputed to him by his fol
lowers.

Some even of Mahomet's disciples affirm,
that of the three parts which compose the Al
coran, but one is the genuine production of
the prophet. Hence, when you show them
any absurdity in the book, they will reply,
that it ought to be classed among the two
spurious parts which they reject.*

But if you ask us how we know that the
books, containing the fundamentals of our
faith, were composed by the holy men to whom
they are ascribed, we readily offer to submit
them to the severest tests of criticism. Let
them produce a book whose antiquity is the
least disputed, and the most unanimously ac
knowledged to be the production of the author
whose name it bears; let them adduce the evi
dences of its authenticity; and we will adduce
the same evidences in favour of the canon of
our gospels.

If you ask the followers of Mahomet to
show you in the Alcoran, some characteristics
of its divine authenticity, they will extol it to
the skies, and tell you " that it is an un
created work; the truth by way of excellence;
the miracle of miracles; superior to the resur
rection of the dead; promised by Moses and
the apostles; intelligible to God alone; worthy
to be received of all intelligent beings, and
constituted their rule of conduct."! But when
you come to investigate the work of which
they have spoken in such extravagant terms,
you will find a book destitute of instruction,
except what its author had borrowed from the
books of the Old and New Testament; con
cerning the unity of God; the reality of future
judgment; the certainty of the life to come;
and those various maxims, that " we must not
give alms in ostentation; that God loveth a
cheerful giver, that all things are possible to
him;" and that " he searches the heart." You
will find a book in many places directly oppos
ed to the maxims of the sacred authors, even
when it extols the Deity, as in the laws it pre
scribes respecting divorce; in the permission of
a new marriage granted to repudiated women;
in the liberty of having as many wives as we
please, a liberty of which Mahomet availed
himself; in what he recounts of Pharaoh's
conversion; of Jesus Christ's speaking in the
cradle with the same facility as a man of
thirty or of fifty years of age; in what he ad
vances concerning a middle place between
heaven and hell, where those must dwell who
have done neither good nor evil, and those

whose good and evil are equal; in what he says
concerning Jesus Christ's escape from crucifix
ion, having so far deceived the Jews that they
crucified another in his place, who very much
resembled him.*

You will find a book replete with fabulous
tales. Witness what he says of God having
raised a mountain, which covered the Israel
ites with its shadow.f Witness the dialogue
he imagined between God and Abrdham. Wit
ness the puerile proofs he adduces of the inno
cence of Joseph. Witness the history of the
seven sleepers. Witness what he asserts that
all the devils were subject to Solomon.} Wit
ness the ridiculous fable of the ant that com
manded an army of ants, and addressed them
with an articulate voice. Witness the notions
he gives us of paradise and hell.|| Whereas,
if you require of Christians the characteristic
authorities of their books, they adduce sub
lime doctrines, a pure morality, prophecies
punctually accomplished, and at the predicted
period, a scheme of happiness the most noble
and the most assortable with the wants of man
that ever entered the mind of the most cele
brated philosophers.

If you ask the sectarians of Mahomet what
signs God has wrought in favour of their re
ligion, they will tell you, that his mother bore
him without pain; that the idols fell at his
birth; that the sacred fires of Persia were ex
tinguished; that the waters in lake Sava di
minished; that the palace of Chosroes fell to
the ground. § They will tell you, that Mahomet
himself performed a great number of miracles,
that he made water proceed from his fingers;
that he cut the moon, and made a part of it
fall into his lap.1F They will tell you, that the
stones, and the trees saluted him, saying,
Peace, peace be to the ambassador of God.**
They will tell you, that the sheep obeyed his
voice; that an angel having assumed the figure
of a dragon, became his guardian. They will
tell you, that two men of enormous stature
grasped him in their hands, and placed him on
the top of a high mountain, opened his bowels,
and took from his heart a black drop, the only
evil Satan possessed in his heart: having after
ward restored him to his place, they affixed
their seal to the fact. ft Fabulous tales, adduc
ed without proofs, and deservedly rejected by
the more enlightened followers of Mahomet.

But, if you require of the Christians mira
cles in favour of their religion, they will pro
duce them without number. Miracles wrought
in the most public places, and in presence of
the people; miracles, the power of which was
communicated to many of those who embraced
Christianity; miracles admitted by Zosimen,
by Porphyry, by Julian, and by the greatest
enemies of the gospel; miracles which demon
strate to us the truth by every test of which
remote facts are susceptible; miracles sealed
by the blood of innumerable martyrs, and ren
dered in some sort still visible to us by the con-

* See Joseph of St. Maria on the expedition to the
East Indies.
\ Maraccio on the Alcoran, chap. vi.

* Chap, on women. t Preface, page 14.

t Chap, on Ruth. || Chap, of orders.

§ See Maraccio's Life of Mahomet, page 10.
IT Simon's Hist. Crit. of the Faith of the Nations of
the Levant.

** Maraccio, preface, page 14. col. 2.
tf Ibid, page 13.

SER. XCIIL]

CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

357

version of the pagan world, and by the pro
gress of the gospel, and which can find no
parallel in the religion of Mahomet, propagat
ed with the sword, as is confessed by his fol
lowers, who say, that he fought sixty battles,
and called himself the military prophet. Where
as Christianity was established by the prodigies
of the Spirit, and by force of argument. The
mysteries of the gospel are not therefore in the
first class, which render a religion suspected.
They do not conceal its origin. This is what
we proposed to prove.

II. Mysteries should expose a religion to
suspicion, when they imply an absurdity. Yes,
and if Christianity notwithstanding the lumin
ous proofs of its divine authority; notwith
standing the miracles of its founder; notwith
standing the sublimity of its doctrines; notwith
standing the sanctity of its moral code, the
completion of its prophecies, the magnificence
of its promises; notwithstanding the convinc
ing facts which prove that the books contain
ing this religion were written by men divinely
inspired; notwithstanding the number and the
grandeur of its miracles; notwithstanding the
confession of its adversaries, and its public
monuments; if it was possible, notwithstand
ing all this, should the Christian religion in
clude absurdities, it ought to be rejected. Be
cause,

Every character of the divinity here adduc
ed, is founded on argument. Whatever is de
monstrated to a due degree of evidence ought
to be admitted without dispute. The proofs
of the divine authority of religion are demon
strated to that degree; therefore the Christian
religion ought to be received without dispute.
But were it possible that a contradiction should
exist; were it possible that a proposition, ap
pearing to us evidently false, should be true,
evidence would no longer then be the charac
ter of truth, and if evidence should no longer
be the character of truth, you would have no
farther marks by which you could know that a
religion is divine. Consequently, you could
not be assured, that the gospel is divine. To
me, nothing is more true than this proposition,
a whole is greater than a part. I would reject a
religion how true soever it might appear, if it
contradicted this fact; because, how evident
soever the proofs might be alleged in favour
of its divinity, they could never be more evi
dent than the rejected proposition, that a whole
is greater than a part. Our proposition is there
fore confirmed, Chat mysteries ought to render
a religion suspected 'when they imply absurdi
ties. We wish you to judge of the Christian
religion according to this rule.
, Now if there be in our gospels a doctrine
concerning which a good logician has apparent
cause to exclaim, it is this; a God, who has"
but one essence, and who nevertheless has
three persons; the Son, and the Holy Spirit
who is God; and these three are but one. The
Father, who is with the Son, does not become
incarnate, when the Son becomes incarnate.
The Son, who is witli the Father, no longer
maintains the rights of justice in Gethsemane,
when the Father maintains them. The Holy
Spirit, who is with the Father and the Son,
proceeds from both in a manner ineffable: and
the Father and the Son, who is with the Holy

Spirit, do not proceed in this manner. Are not
these ideas contradictory? No, my brethren.
If we should say, that God has but one es
sence, and that he has three essences, in the
same sense that we maintain he has but one;
if we should say, that God is three in the
same sense he is one, it would be a contradic
tion. But this is not our thesis. We believe
on the faith of a divine book, that God is one
in the sense to which we give the confused
name of essence. We believe that he is three
in a sense to which we give the confused name
of persons. We determine neither what is this
essence, nor what is this personality. That sur
passes reason but does not revolt it.

If we should say, that God in the sense we
have called Essence, is become incarnate, and
at the same time this notion is not incarnate,
we should advance a contradiction. But this
is not our thesis. We believe on the faith of
a divine book, that what is called the person
of the Son in the Godhead, and of which we
confess that we have not a distinct idea, is
united to the humanity in a manner we cannot
determine, because it has not pleased God to
reveal it. This surpasses reason, but does not
revolt it.

If we should advance, that God (the Spirit)
in the sense we have called Essence, proceeds
from the Father and the Son, while the Father
and the Son do not proceed, we should advance
a contradiction. But this is not our thesis.
We believe on the credit of a divine book,
that what is called the Holy Spirit in the God
head, and of which we confess we have no
distinct idea, because it has not pleased God
to give it, has procession ineffable, while what
is called the Father and the Son, differing
from the Holy Spirit in that respect, do not
proceed. This surpasses reason, but does not
revolt it.

We go even farther. We maintain not only
that there is no contradiction in those doc
trines, but that a contradiction is impossible.
What is a contradiction in regard to us? It is
an evident opposition between two known
ideas. For instance, I have an idea of this pul
pit, and of this wall. I see an essential differ
ence between the two. Consequently, I find a
contradiction in the proposition, that this wall,
and this pulpit are the same being.

Such being the nature of a contradiction, 1
say, it is impossible that any should be found
in this proposition, that there is one divine es
sence in three persons: to find a contradiction,
it is requisite to have a distinct idea of what I
call essence, and of what I call person: and, as
I profess to be perfectly ignorant of the one,
and the other, it is impossible I should find an
absurdity. When, therefore, I affirm, that
there is a divine essence in three persons, I do
not pretend to explain either the nature of the
unity, or the nature of the Trinity. I pretend
to advance only that there is something in God
which surpasses me, and which is the basis of
this proposition; viz. there is a Father, a Son,
and a Holy Spirit.

But though the Christian religion be fully
exculpated for teaching doctrines which destroy
themselves, the Church of Rome cannot be jus
tified, whatever efforts her greatest geniuses
may make, in placing the doctrine of the Trini

358

DIFFICULTIES OF THE

[SER. XCIII.

ty, on the parallel with the doctrine of tran-
substantiation, and in defending it against us
with the same argument with which we defend
the other against unbelievers.

Were we, I allow, to seek the faith of the
church of Rome in the writings of some indi
vidual doctors, this doctrine would be less lia
ble to objections. Some of them have express
ed themselves, on this subject, in an undeter
mined way; and have avoided detail. They
say in general, that the body of Christ is in the
sacrament of the eucharist, and that they do
not presume to define the manner.

But we must seek the faith (and it is the
method which all should follow who have a
controversy to maintain against those of that
communion;) we must, I say, seek the faith of
the church of Rome in the decisions of her ge
neral councils, and not in the works of a few
individuals. And as the doctors of the council
of Trent lived in a dark age, in which philoso
phy had not purified the errors of the schools,
they had the indiscretion, not only to deter
mine, but also to detail this doctrine; and there
by committed themselves by a manifest contra
diction. Hear the third canon of the third ses
sion of the council of Trent. " If any one
deny, that in the venerable sacrament of the
eucharist, the body of Christ is really present
in both kinds, and in such sort that the body
of Christ is wholly present in every separate
part of the host, let him be anathematized."

Can one fall Into a more manifest contradic
tion? If you should say, that the bread is de
stroyed, and that the body of Christ intervenes
by an effort of divine omnipotence, you might
perhaps shelter yourself from the reproach of
absurdity; you might escape under the plea of
mystery, and the limits of the human mind.
But to affirm that the substance of the bread is
destroyed, while the kinds of bread, which are
still but the same bread, modified in such a
manner, subsist, is not to advance a mystery,
but an absurdity. It is not to prescribe bounds
to the human mind, but to revolt its convic
tions, and extinguish its knowledge.

If you should say, that the body of Christ, v
which is in heaven, passes in an instant from'
heaven to earth, you might perhaps shelter
yourself from the reproach of absurdity, and
escape under .the plea of mystery, and of the
limits of the human mind. But to affirm, that
the body of Christ, while it is wholly in hea
ven, is wholly on earth, is not to advance a
mystery, but to maintain a contradiction. It
is to revolt all its convictions, and to extinguish
all its knowledge.

If you should say, that some parts of the
body of Jesus Christ are detached, and mixed
with the symbols of the holy sacrament, you
might perhaps avert the charge of contradic
tion, and escape under the plea of mystery,
and the limits of the human mind. But to af
firm, that the body of Christ is but one in num
ber, and meanwhile, that it is perfect and en
tire in all the parts of the host, which are with
out number, is not to advance a mystery, it is
to maintain a contradiction. It is not to pre
scribe bounds to the human mind, but to revolt
all its convictions, and to extinguish all its
knowledge.

So YOU may indeed conclude, my brethren, |

from what we said at the commencement of
this article. A Roman Catholic, consonant to
his principles, has no right to believe the divine
authority of the Christian religion, for the evi
dences of Christianity terminate on this princi-
Sle, that evidence is the character of truth,
ut if the doctrine of transubstantiation be
true, palpable absurdities ought to be believed
by the Roman Catholic; evidence, in regard to
him, being no longer the character of truth.
If evidence in regard to him be no longer the
character of truth, proofs the most evident in
favour of Christianity, can carry no conviction
to him, and he is justified in not believing
them.

I go farther still; I maintain to the most
zealous defender of the doctrine of transubstan
tiation, that properly speaking, he does not be
lieve the doctrine of transubstantiation. He
may indeed verbally assert his faith, but he can
never satisfy his conscience: he may indeed be
cloud his mind by a confusion of ideas, but he
can never induce it to harmonize contradictory
ideas: he may indeed inadvertently adhere to
this proposition, a body having but a limited cir
cumference, is at the same time in heaven, and at
the same time on earth, with the same circumfe
rence. But no man can believe this doctrine,
if by believing, you mean the connecting of
distinct ideas; for no man whatever can connect
together both distinct and contradictory.

III. We have said in the third place, that
mysteries should render a religion suspected,
when they hide certain practices contrary to
virtue and good manners. This was a charac
teristic of paganism. The pagans for the most
part affected a great air of mystery in their
religious exercises. They said, that mystery
conciliated respect for the gods. Hence, di
viding their mysteries into two classes, they
had their major and their minor mysteries.
But all these were a covert for impurity! Who
can read without horror the mysteries of the
god Apis, even as they are recorded in pagan
authors? What infamous ceremonies did they
not practise in honour of Venus, when initiated
into the secrets of the Goddess? What myste
rious precautions did they not adopt concerning
the mysteries of Ceres in the city of Eleusis?
No man was admitted without mature expe
rience, and a long1 probation. It was so esta
blished, that those who were not initiated,
could not participate of the secrets. Nero did
not dare to gratify his curiosity on this head;*
and the wish to know secrets allowed to be dis
closed only by gradual approach, was regarded
as a presumption. It was forbidden under the
penalty of death to disclose those mysteries,
and solely, if we may believe Theodoret, and
Tertullian, to hide the abominable ceremonies,
whose detail would defile the majesty of this
place. And if the recital would so deeply de
file, what riSust the practice be?

The mysteries of Christianity are infinitely
distant from all those infamous practices. The
gospel not only exhibits a most hallowing mo
rality, but whatever mysteries it may teach, it
requires that we should draw from their very
obscurity motives to sanctity of life. If we say,
that there are three persons who participate in

Life of Nero by Suetonius, chap. 34.

SER. XCIII.]

CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

359

the divine Essence, it is to make you conceive
that all which is in God, if I may so speak, is
interested for our salvation, and to enkindle
our efforts by the thought. If we say, that the
Word was made flesh, and that the Son of
God expired on the cross, it is to make you
abhor sin by the idea of what it cost him to ex
piate it. If we say, that grace operates in the
heart, and that in the work of our salvation
grace forms the design and the execution, it is
with this inference, that we should " work oul
our own salvation with fear and trembling.'
If we teach even the doctrines of God's de
crees, it is " to make our calling sure," Phil
ii. 12; 1 Pet. i. 10.

IV. We have lastly said, that mysteries
should render a religion doubtful, when we fine
a system, which on rejecting those mysteries,
is exempt from greater difficulties than those
we would attack. We make this remark as a
compliment to unbelievers, and to the impure
class of brilliant wits. When we have proved,
reasoned, and demonstrated; when we have
placed the arguments of religion in the clearest
degree of evidence they can possibly attain:
and when we would decide in favour of reli
gion, they invariably insinuate, that " religion
has its mysteries; that religion has its difficul
ties;" and they make these the apology of their
unbelief.

I confess, this objection would have some
colour, if there were any system, which on ex
empting us from the difficulties of religion, did
not involve in still greater. And whenever
they produce that system, we are ready to em
brace it.

Associate all the difficulties of which we al
low religion to be susceptible. Associate what
ever is incomprehensible in the doctrine of the
Trinity, and in the ineffable manner in which
the three persons subsist, who are the object of
our worship. Add thereto whatever is super
natural in the operations of the Holy Spirit,
and in the mysterious methods he adopts to
penetrate the heart. Neither forget the depths
into which we are apparently cast by the doc
trines of God's decrees, and make a complete
code of the whole.

To these difficulties which we avow, join all
those we do not avow. Join all the pretexts
you affect to find in the arguments which na
ture affords of the being of a God, and the re
ality of a providence. Join thereto whatever
you shall find the most forcible against the au
thenticity of our sacred books, and what has
been thought the most plausible against the
marks of Divine authority exhibited in those
Scriptures. Join to these all the advantages
presumed to be derived from the diversity of
opinions existing in the Christian world, and in
all its sects which constantly attack one another.
Make a new code of all these difficulties. —
Form a system of your own objections. Draw
the conclusions from your own principles, and
build an edifice of infidelity on the ruins of re
ligion. But for what system can you decide
which is not infinitely less supportable than re
ligion?

Do you espouse that of atheism?' Do you
say, that the doctrine of the being of a God
owes its origin to superstition and the fears of
men? And is this the system which has no dif

ficulties? Have rational men need to be con
vinced, that the mysteries of religion are infi
nitely more defensible than the mysteries of
atheism.

Do you espouse the part of irreligion? Do
you allow with Epicures, that there is a God;
but that the sublimity of his Majesty obstructs
his stooping to men, and the extension of his
regards to our temples, and our altars? And is
this the system which has no difficulties? How
do you reply to the infinity of objections op
posed to this system? How do you answer this
argument, that God having not disdained to
create mankind, it is inconceivable he should
disdain to govern them? How do you reply to
a second, the inconceivableness that a perfect
being should form intelligences, and not pre
scribe their devotion to his glory? And what
do you say to a third, that religion is complete
ly formed, and fully proved in every man's
conscience?

Do you take the part of denying a divine
revelation? And is this the system which is ex
empt from difficulties? Can you really prove
that our books were not composed by the au
thors to whom they are ascribed? Can you
really prove that those men have not wrought
miracles? Can you really prove that the Bible
is not the book the most luminous, and the
most sublime, that ever appeared on earth?
Can you really prove, that fishermen, publi
cans, and tent-makers, and whatever was low
est among the mean populace of Judea; can
you prove, that people of this description, have
without divine assistance, spoken of the origin
of the world; and of the perfections of God; of
the nature of man, his constitution, and his du
ties, in a manner more grand, noble, and better
supported than Plato, than Zeno, than Epicu
rus, and all the sublime geniuses, which render
antiquity venerable, and which still fill the
universe with their fame?

Do you espouse the cause of deism? Do you
say with the Latitudinarian, that if there be a
religion, it is not shut up in the narrow bounds
which we prescribe? Do you maintain that all
religions are indifferent? Do you give a false
gloss to the apostle's words, that " in all na
tions he that feareth God is accepted of him?"
Acts x. 35. And is this the system which is
xempt from difficulties? How, superseding the
uthority of the Bible, will you maintain this
principle? How will you maintain it against
,he terrors God denounces against the base,
' and the fearful," Rev. xxi. 8; against the in
unction " to go out of Babylon; against the
duty prescribed of confessing him in presence
f all men," Isa. xlviii. 20; Matt. x. 32; and
;ith regard to the fortitude he requires us to
isplay on the rack, and when surrounded with
fire and fagots, and when called to brave them
or the sake of truth1. How will you maintain
t against the care he has taken to teach you
he truth without any mixture of lies?

Do you take the part of believing nothing?
Do you conclude from these difficulties, that
he best system is to have none at all. Obsti-
ate Pyrrhonian, you are then resolved to doubt
f all! And is this the system which is exempt
rom difficulties? When you shall be agreed
vith yourself; when you have conciliated your
ingular system with the convictions of your

360

DIFFICULTIES OF THE

[SER. XCI \

mind, with the sentiments of your heart, and
with the dictates of your conscience, then you
shall see what we have to reply.

What then shall you do to find a light with
out darkness, and an evidence to your mind?
Do you take the part of the libertine? Do you
abandon to colleges the care of religion, and
leaving the doctors to waste life deciding who
is wrong, and who is right, are you determined
as to yourself to rush head foremost into the
world? Do you say with the profane, " Let us
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?" Do you
enjoy the present without pursuing uncertain
rewards, and alarming your mind with fears of
miseries which perhaps may never come? And
is this the system destitute of mysteries? Is this
the system preferred to what is said by our apos
tles, our evangelists, our doctors, our pastors, and
by all the holy men God has raised up "for the
perfecting of the saints, and for the work of the
ministry?" But though the whole of your ob
jections were founded; though the mysteries of
the gospel were a thousand times more difficult
to penetrate; though our knowledge were in
comparably more circumscribed; and though
religion should be infinitely less demonstrated
than it is; should this be the part you ought to
take? The sole probability of religion, should
it not induce us, if not to believe it, yet at least,
so to act, as if in fact we did believe it? And
the mere alternative of an eternal happiness, or
an eternal misery, should it not suffice to re
strict us within the limits of duty, and to regu
late our life, in such sen, that if there be a hell,
we may avoid its torments?

We conclude. Religion has its mysteries;
we acknowledge it with pleasure. Religion has
its difficulties; we avow it. Religion is shook
(we grant this for the moment to unbelievers,
though we detest it in our hearts,) religion is
shook, and ready to fall by brilliant wits. But
after all, the mysteries of the gospel are not of
that cast which should render a religion doubt
ful. But after all, Christianity all shook, all
wavering, and ready to fall, as it may appear
to the infidel, contains what is most certain, and
the wisest part a rational man can take, is to
adhere to it with an inviolable attachment.

But how evident soever these arguments may
be, and however strong this apology for the
difficulties of religion may appear, there always
remains a question on this subject, and indeed
an important question, which we cannot omit
resolving without leaving a chasm in this dis
course. Why these mysteries? Why these sha
dows? And why this darkness? Does not the
goodness of God engage to remove this stum
bling-block, and to give us a religion radiant
with truth, and destitute of any obscuring veil?
There are various reasons, my brethren, which
render certain doctrines of religion impene
trable to us.

The first argument of the weakness of our
knowledge is derived from the limits of the hu
man mind. It is requisite that you should fa
vour me here with a little more of recollection
than is usually bestowed on a sermon. It is not
requisite to be a philosopher to become a Chris
tian. The doctrines of our religion, and the
precepts of our moral code, are sanctioned by
the testimony of an infallible God: and not de
riving their origin from the speculations of men,

it is not from their approbation that they derive
their authority. Meanwhile, it is a felicity, we
must confess, and an anticipation of the happy
period when our faith shall be changed to sight,
to find in sound reason the basis of all the grand
truths religion reveals, and to convince our
selves by experience, that the more we know
of man, the more we see that religion was made
for man. Let us return to our first principle.
The narrow limits of the human mind shall
open one source of light on the subject we dis
cuss; they shall convince us, that minds cir
cumscribed, as ours, cannot before the time pe
netrate far into the adorable mysteries of faith.

We have elsewhere distinguished three facul
ties in the mind of man, or rather three classes
of faculties which comprise whatever we know
of this spirit; the faculty of thinking; the faculty
of feeling; and the faculty of loving. Examine
these three faculties, and you will be convinced
that the mind of man is circumscribed within
narrow bounds; they are so closely circum
scribed, that while attentively contemplating a
certain object, they cannot attend to any other.

You experience this daily with regard to the
faculty of thinking. Some persons, I allow,
extend attention much beyond common men;
but in all it is extremely confined. This is so
received an opinion, that we regard as prodigies
of intellect, those who have the art of attending
closely to two or three objects at once; or of di
recting the attention, without a glance of the
eye, on any game, apparently less invented to
unbend than to exercise the mind. Meanwhile,
this power is extremely limited in all men. If
the mind can distinctly glance on two or three
objects at once, the fourth or the fifth confounds
it. Properly to study a subject, we must attend
to that alone; be abstracted from all others,
forgetful of what we do, and blind to what we
see.

The faculty of feeling is as circumscribed as
that of thinking. One sensation absorbs or di
minishes another. A wound received in the
heat of battle; in the tumult, or in the sight of
the general whose approbation we seek, is less
acute 'than it would be on a different occasion.
For the like reason the same pain we have
borne during the day, is insupportable in the
night. Violent anguish renders us insensible
of a diminutive pain. Whatever diverts from
a pleasing sensation diminishes the pleasure,
and blunts enjoyment; and this is done by the
reason already assigned; that while the faculty
is attentive to one object, it is incapable of ap
plication to another.

It is the same with regard to the faculty of
loving. It rarely happens that a man can in
dulge two or three leading passions at once:
" No man can serve two masters: for either he
will hate the one, and love the other; or else he
will hold to the one, and despise the other."
So is the assertion of Jesus Christ, who knew
the human heart better than all the philosophers
put together. The passion of avarice, for the
most part, diminishes the passion of glory; end
the passion of glory, diminishes that of avarice.
It is the same with the other passions.

Besides, not only an object engrossing a fa
culty, obstructs its profound attention to any
other object related to that faculty; but when a
faculty is deeply engrossed by an object, all

SER. XCIll.]

CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

301

others, if I may so speak, remain in solitude
and slumber; the capacity of the soul being
wholly absorbed. A man who concentrates
himself in research, in the illustration of a diffi
culty, in the solution of a problem, in the con
templation of a combined'truth; he loses for the
moment, the faculty of feeling, and becomes
insensible of sound, of noise, of light. A man,
oh the contrary, who freely abandons himself
to a violent sensation, or whom God afflicts
acutely, loses for the time, the faculty of think
ing. Speak, reason, and examine; draw con
sequences, and all that is foreign to this point:
he is no longer a thinking being; he is a feeling
being, and wholly so. Thus the principle we
establish is an indisputable axiom in the study
of man, that the human mind is circumscribed,
and inclosed in very narrow limits.

The relation of this principle to the subject
we discuss, obtrudes itself on our regard. A
slight reflection on the limits of the human mind
will convince us, that men who make so slow
a progress in abstruse science, can never fathom
the deep mysteries of religion. And it is the
more evident, as these limited faculties can
never be wholly applied to the study of truth.
There is no moment of life, in which they are
not divided; there is no moment in which they
are not engaged in the care of the body, in the
recollection of some fugitive ideas, and on sub
jects which have no connexion with those to
which we would direct our study.

A second reason of the limits of our know
ledge arises from those very mysteries which
excite obscurity, astonishment, and awe. What
are those mysteries? Of what do they treat?
They treat of what is the most elevated and
sublime: they concern the essence of the Cre
ator: they concern the attributes of the Supreme
Being: they concern whatever has been thought
the most immense in the mind of eternal wis
dom: they concern the traces of that impetuous
wind, "which blows where it listeth," and
which moves in one moment to every part of
the universe. And we, insignificant beings; we
altogether obstructed, confounded, and absorb
ed, we affect an air of surprise because we can
not fathom the depths of those mysteries! It is
not merely while on earth that we cannot com
prehend those immensities; but we can never
comprehend them in the other world; because
God is always unlimited, always infinite, and
always above the reach of circumscribed intel
ligences; and because we shall be always finite,
always limited, always creatures circumscribed.
Perfect knowledge belongs to God alone.
" Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst
thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It
is as high as heaven, what canst thou do? deeper
than hell, what canst thou know?" Job xi. 7, 8.
" Where wast thou when he laid the founda
tions of the earth? When he shut up the sea
with doors? When he made the clouds the gar
ments thereof, and thick darkness a swaddling
band for it. When he subjected it to his laws,
and prescribed its barriers, and said, hitherto
shall thou come, and here shall thy proud waves
be stayed?" xxxviii. 4. 9 — 11. "Who hath
known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been
his counsellor? Or who hath first given him,
and it shall be recompensed unto him again?
O the dopth of the riches both of the wisdom,
VOL. II.— 46

and of the knowledge of God; how unsearchable
are his judgments, and his ways past finding
out!" Rom. xi. 33 — 35. Let us adore a Being
so immense; and let his incomprehensibility
serve to give us the more exalted ideas of his
grandeur; and seeing we can never know him
to perfection, let us, at the least, form the noble
desire of knowing him as far as it is allowable
to finite intelligences. And as Manoah, who,
after receiving the mysterious vision recorded
Judges xiii. prayed the angel of the Lord, say
ing, " Tell me, I pray thee, thy name;" and
received the answer, "It is wonderful;" so
should we say with this holy man, " I pray
thee, tell me thy name," give me to know this
" wonderful name." Let us say with Moses,
" Lord, let me see thy glory," Exod. xxxiii. 18.
And with the prophet, " Lord, open thou mine
eyes, that I may behold the marvels of thy law,"
Ps. cxix. 18.

The third cause of the obscurity of our know
ledge is, that truths the most simple, and ob
jects the least combined, have, however, certain
depths and abysses beyond the reach of thought;
because truths the most simple, and objects the
least combined, have a certain tie with infinity,
that they cannot be comprehended without
comprehending this infinity. Nothing is more
simple, nothing is less combined, in regard to
me, than this proposition; there are certain ex
terior objects which actually strike my eyes,
which excite certain emotions in my brain, and
certain perceptions in my mind. Meanwhile,
this proposition so simple, and so little 'com
bined, has certain depths and obscurities above
my thought, because it is connected with other
inquiries concerning this infinity, which I can
not comprehend. It is connected with this;
cannot the perfect Being excite certain percep
tions in my mind, and emotions in my brain
without the aid of exterior objects? It is con
nected with another; will the goodness and
truth of this perfect Being suffer certain per
ceptions to be excited in the mind, and emotions
in the brain, by which we forcibly believe that
certain exterior objects exist, when in fact, they
do not exist? It is connected with divers other
inquiries of like nature, which involve us in
discussions, which absorb and confound our
feeble genius. Thus, we are not only incapable
of fathoming certain inquiries which regard in
finity, but we are equally incapable of fully
satisfying ourselves concerning those that are
simple, because they are connected with the
infinite. Prudence, therefore, requires that men
should admit, as proved, the truths which have,
in regard to them, the characters of demonstra
tion. It is by these characters they should
judge. But after all, there is none but the per
fect Being, who can have perfect demonstration;
at least, the perfect Being alone can fully per
ceive in the immensity of his knowledge, all
the connexions which finite beings have with
the infinite.

A fourth reason of the obscurity of our know
ledge, is the grand end God proposed when he
placed us upon the earth: this end is our sancti-
fication. The questions on which religion leaves
so much obscurity, do not devolve on simple
principles, which may be comprehended in a
moment. The acutest mathematician, he who
I can make a perfect demonstration of a given

362

DIFFICULTIES OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. [SER. XCIH.

number, cannot do it in a moment, if that
number be complicated: and the tardy compre
hension of him to whom a complicated pro
blem is demonstrated, requires a still greater
length of time. He must comprehend by a
succession of ideas what cannot be proved by
a single glance of the eye. A man, posted on
an elevated tower, may see at once the whole
of a considerable army in motion; but he at
the base of this tower, can see them only as
they present themselves in succession. God
is exalted above all creatures; he sees the
whole by a single regard. He has but, if I
may so speak, to apply his mind, and all are
seen at once. But we, poor abject creatures,
we are placed in the humblest point of the uni
verse. How then can we, during the period
of f^fty, or if you please, a hundred years of
life, destined to active duties, how can we pre
sume to make a combination of all the Crea
tor's perfections and designs, though he him
self should deign in so great a work to be our
guide. Great men have said, that all possible
plans were presented to the mind of God when
he made the universe, and that, comparing
them one with another, he chose the best. Let
us make the supposition without adopting it;
let us suppose that God, wishful to justify to
our mind the plan he has adopted, should pre
sent to us all his plans; and comparison alone
could ensure approbation; but does it imply a
contradiction, that fifty, or a hundred years of
life, engrossed by active duties, should suffice
for so vast a design? Had God encumbered
religion with the illustration of all abstruse
doctrines, concerning which it observes a pro
found silence; and with the explication of all
the mysteries it imperfectly reveals; had he ex
plained to us the depths of his nature and es
sence; had he discovered to us the immense
combination of his attributes; had he qualified
us to trace the unsearchable ways of his Spirit
in our heart; had he shown us the origin, the
end, and arrangement of his counsels; had he
wished to gratify the infinite inquiries of our
curiosjty, and to acquaint us with the object
of his views during the absorbing revolutions
prior to the birth of time, and with those which
must follow it; had he thus multiplied to in
finity speculative ideas, what time should we
have had for practical duties? Dissipated by
the cares of life, occupied with its wants, and
sentenced to the toils it imposes, what time
would have remained to succour the wretched,
to visit the sick, and to comfort the distressed?
Yea, and what is still more, to study and van
quish our own heart? — O how admirably is the
way of God, in the restriction of our knowledge,
worthy of his wisdom! He has taught us no
thing but what has the most intimate connex
ion with our duties, that we might ever be at
tentive to them, and that there is nothing in
religion which can possibly attract us from
those duties.

5. The miseries inseparable from life, are
the ultimate reason of the obscurity of our
knowledge both in religion and in nature. To
ask why God has involved religion in so much
darkness, is asking why he has not given us a
nature like those spirits which are not clothed
with mortal flesh. We must class the obscurity
of oar knowledge with the other infirmities of

life, with our exile, our imprisonment, our
sickness, our perfidy, our infidelity, with the
loss of our relatives, of separation from our
dearest friends. We must answer the objec
tion drawn from the darkness which envelopes
most of the objects of sense, as we do to those
drawn from the complication of our calamities.
It is, that this world is not the abode of our
felicity. It is, that the awful wounds of sin are
not yet wholly healed. It is, that our soul is
still clothed with matter. We must lament
the miseries of a life in which reason is en
slaved, in which the sphere of our knowledge
is so confined, and in which we feel ourselves
obstructed at every step of our meditation and
research. We have a soul greedy of wisdom
and knowledge; a soul susceptible of an infinity
of perceptions and ideas; a soul to which know
ledge and intelligence are the nourishment and
food: and this soul is localized in a world: but
in what world? In a world, where we do but
imperfectly know ourselves; in a world, where
our sublimest knowledge, and profoundest re
searches resemble little children who divert
themselves at play. The idea is not mine; it
is suggested by St. Paul, in the words subse
quent to our text. " When I was a child, I
spake as a child, I understood as a child, I
thought as a child." The contrast is not un
just. Literally, all this knowledge, all these
sermons, all this divinity, and all those com
mentaries, are but as the simple comparisons
employed to make children understand exalted
truths. They are but as the types, which God
employed in the ancient law to instruct the
Jews, while in a state of infancy. How im
perfect were those types! What relation had
a sheep to the Victim of the new covenant'
What proportion had a priest to the Sovereign
Pontiff of the church! Such is the state of
man while here placed on the earth.

But a happier period must follow this of hu
miliation. " When I was a child, I spake as
a child, I understood as a child, I thought as
a child; but when I became a man, I put away
childish things." Charming thought, my bre
thren, of the change that death shall produce
in us; it shall supersede the puerilities of in
fancy; it shall draw the curtain which conceals
the objects of expectation. How ravished must
the soul be when this curtain is uplifted! In
stead of worshipping in these assemblies, it
finds itself instantly elevated to the choirs of
angels, " the ten thousand times ten thousand
before the Lord." Instead of hearing the
hymns we sing to his glory, it instantly heara
the hallelujahs of celestial spirits, and the
dread shouts of " Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord
of hosts: the whole earth is full of thy glory."
Instead of listening to this frail preacher, who
endeavours to develop the imperfect notions
he has imbibed in a confined understanding,
it instantly hears the great head of the church,
" who is the author, and finisher of our faith."
Instead of perceiving some traces of God's per
fections in the beauties of nature, it finds itself
in the midst of his sublimest works; in the
midst of" the heavenly Jerusalem, whose gates
are of pearl, whose foundations are of precious
stones, and whose walls are of jasper." — Do
we then still fear death! And have we still
need of comforters when we approach that

SER. XCIV.]

CONSECRATION OF THE, &c.

303

happy period? And have we still need to re
sume all our constancy, and all our fortitude
to support the idea of dying! And is it still
necessary to pluck us from the earth, and to
tear us by force to the celestial abode, which
shall consummate our felicity? Ah! how the
prophet Elisha, who saw his master ascend in
the chariot of fire, ploughing the air on his bril
liant throne, and crossing the vast expanse
which separates heaven from earth; how Elisha
regretted the absence of so worthy a master,
whom he now saw no more, and whom he
must never see in life; how he cried in that
moment, " My father, my father, the chariot
of Israel, and the horsemen thereof." These
emotions are strikingly congenial to the senti
ments of self-love, so dear to us. But Elijah
himself — Elijah, did he fear to soar in so sub
lime a course! Elijah already ascended to the
middle regions of the air, in whose eyes the
earth appeared but as an atom retiring out of
sight; Elijah, whose head already reached to
heaven; d'id Elijah regret the transition he was
about to complete! Did he regret the world,
and its inhabitants! — O soul of man; — regene
rate soul — daily called to break the fetters
which unite thee to a mortal body, take thy
flight towards heaven. Ascend this fiery
chariot, which God has sent to transport thee
above the earth where thou dvvellest. See
the heavens which open for thy reception; ad
mire the beauties, and estimate the charms al
ready realized by thy hope. Taste those in
effable delights. Anticipate the perfect felicity,
with which death is about to invest thee. Thou
needest no more than this last moment of my
ministry. Death himself is about to do all the
rest, to dissipate all thy darkness, to justify re
ligion, and to crown thy hopes.

SERMON XCIV.

CONSECRATION OF THE CHURCH
AT VOORBURGH, 1726.

EZEK. ix. 16.
Although I have cast them far off among the hea-

thtin, and among the countries, yet ivill I be to

them as a little sanctuary in the countries where

they shall come.

THE cause of our assembling to-day, my
brethren, is one of the most evident marks of
God's powerful protection, extended to a mul
titude of exiles whom these provinces have en
circled with a protecting arm. It is a fact,
that since we abandoned our native land, we
have been loaded with divine favours. Some
of us have lived in affluence; others in the en
joyments of mediocrity, often preferable to af
fluence; and all have seen this confidence
crowned, which has enabled them to say, while
living even without resource, " In the moun
tain of the Lord, it shall be seen; in the moun
tain of the Lord, he will there provide."

But how consoling soever the idea may be
in our dispersion of that gracious Providence,
which has never ceased to watch for our wel
fare, it is not the principal subject of our grati
tude. God has corresponded more directly
with the object with which we were animated

when we were enabled to bid adieu, perhaps
an eternal adieu, to our country: what prompt
ed us to exile was not the hope of finding more
engaging company, a happier climate and more
permanent establishments. Motives altogether
of another kind animated our hearts. We had
seen the edifices reduced to the dust, which
we had been accustomed to make resound with
the praises of God: we had heard " the children
of Edom," with hatchets in their hand, shout
against those sacred mansions, "down with
them; down with them, even to the ground." —
May you, ye natives of these provinces, among
whom it has pleased the Lord to lead us, ever
be ignorant of the like calamities. May you
indeed never know them, but by the experience
of those to whom you have so amply afforded
the means of subsistence. We could not sur
vive the liberty of our conscience, we have
wandered to seek it, though it should be in
dens and deserts. Zeal gave animation to the
aged, whose limbs were benumbed with years.
Fathers and mothers took their children in their
arms, who were too young to know the danger
from which they were plucked: each was con
tent " with his soul for a prey," and required
nothing but the precious liberty he had lost.
We have found it among you, our generous
benefactors; you have received us as your bre
thren, as your children; and have admitted us
into your churches. We have communicated
with you at the same table; and now you have
permitted us, a handful of exiles, to build a
church to that God whom we mutually adore.
You wish also to partake with us in our grati
tude, and to join your homages with those we
have just rendered to him in this new edifice.

But alas! those of our fellow-countrymen,
whose minds are still impressed with the recol
lection of those former churches, whose de
struction occasioned them much grief, cannot
taste a joy wholly pure. The ceremonies of
this day will associate themselves, with those
celebrated on laying the foundation-stone of
the second temple. The prieste officiated, in
deed, in their pontifical robesj the LeviteSj
sons of Asaph, caused their cymbals to resound
afar; one choir admirably concerted its re
sponse to another; all the people raised a shout
of joy, because the foundation of the Lord's
house was laid. But the chiefs of the fathers,
and the aged men, who had seen the superior
glory of the former temple, wept aloud, and
in such sort that one could not distinguish the
voice of joy from the voice of weeping.

Come, notwithstanding, my dear brethren,
and let us mutually praise the God, who, " in
the midst of wrath remembers mercy," Hab.
iii. 2. Let us gratefully meditate on this fresh
accomplishment of the prophecy I have just
read in your presence; " Though I have cast
them far off among the heathen, and among
the countries, yet will I be to them as a little
sanctuary in the countries where they shall
come." These are God's words to Ezekiel: to
understand them, and with that view I attempt
the discussion, we must trace the events to
their source, and go back to the twenty-ninth
year of king Josiah, to form correct ideas of
the end of our prophet's ministry. It was in
this year, that Nabopolassar, king of Babylon,
and Astyages, king of Media, being allied by

364

CONSECRATION OF THE

[SER. XCIV.

the marriage of Nebuchadnezzar, son of Nabo-
polassar, with Amytis, daughter of Astyages,
united their forces against the Assyrians, then
the most ancient and formidable power, took
Nineveh, their capital, and thus, by a peculiar
dispensation of Providence, they accomplish
ed, and without thinking so to do, the pro
phecies of Jonah, Nahum, and Zephaniah,
against that celebrated empire.

From that period the empire of Nineveh
and of Babylon formed [again] but one, the
terror of all their neighbours, who had just
grounds of apprehension soon to experience a
lot like that of Nineveh.

This induced Pharaoh Nechoh, king of
Egypt, who, of all the potentates of the east,
was the best qualified to resist those conque
rors, to march at the head of a great army,
and make war with a prince, who for the fu
ture, to use the expression of a prophet, was
regarded as " the hammer of all the earth,"
Jer. 1. 32. Pharaoh took his route through
Judea, and sent ambassadors to king Josiah, to
solicit a passage through his kingdom. Jo-
siah's reply to this embassy, even to this day,
astonishes every interpreter; he took the field,
he opposed the designs of Nechoh, which
seemed to have no object but to emancipate
the nations Nebuchadnezzar had subjugated,
and to confirm those that 'desponded through
fear of being loaded with the same chain. Jo
siah, unable to frustrate the objects of Nechoh,
was slain in the battle, and with him seemed
to expire whatever remained of piety and
prosperity in the kingdom of Judah.

Pharaoh Nechoh defeated the Babylonians
near the Euphrates, took Carchemish, the capi
tal of Mesopotamia, and, augmenting the plea
sure of victory by that of revenge, he led his
victorious army through Judea, deposed Je-
hoahaz, son of Josiah, and placed Eliakim, his
brother, on the throne, whom he surnamed Je-
hoiakim, 2 Kings xxiii.

From that period Jehoiakim regarded the
king of Egypt as his benefactor, to whom he
was indebted for his throne and his crown. He>
believed that Pharaoh Nechoh, whose sole au
thority had conferred the crown, was the only
prince 'that could preserve it. The Jews at
once followed the example of their king; they
espoused the hatred which subsisted in Egypt
against the king of Babylon, and renewed with
Nechoh an alliance the most firm which had
ever subsisted between the two powers.

Were it requisite to support here what the
sacred history says on this subject, I would il
lustrate at large a passage of Herodotus, who,
when speaking of the triumph of Pharaoh
Nechoh, affirms, that after this prince had ob
tained a glorious victory in the fields of Me-
giddo, he took a great city of Palestine, sur
rounded with hills, which is called Cadytis:
there is not the smallest doubt but this city
was Jerusalem, which in the Scriptures is of
ten called holy by way of excellence; and it
was anciently designated by this glorious title.
Now, the word holy, in Hebrew, is Keduscha,
and in Syriac Kedutha. To this name Hero
dotus affixed a Greek termination, and called
Kadytis the city that the Syrians or the Arabs
call Kedutha, which, correspondent to my as
sertion, was the appellation given to Jerusalem

Resuming the thread of the history; this al
liance which the Jews had contracted with
Egypt, augmented their confidence at a time
when every consideration should have abated
it; it elevated them with the presumptuous no
tion of being adequate to frustrate the designs
of Nebuchadnezzar, or rather those of God
himself, who had declared that he would sub
jugate all the east to this potentate. He pre
sently retook from Pharaoh Nechoh, Carche
mish, and the other cities conquered by that
prince. He did more; he transferred the war
nto Egypt, after having associated Nebuchad
nezzar, his son, in the empire; and after vari
ous advantages in that kingdom, he entered on
the expedition against Judea, recorded in the
37th chapter of the Second Book of Chroni-
les; he accomplished what Isaiah had fore
told to Hezekiah, that the Chaldeans " should
take his sons, and make them eunuchs in Baby-
on," Isa. xxxix. 7. He plundered Jerusalem;
le put Jehoiakim in chains, and placed his
arother Jehoiachin on the throne, who is some
times called Jeconiah, and sometimes Coniah;
and who availed himself of the grace he had
received, to rebel against his benefactor. This
prince quickly revenged the perfidy; he be
sieged Jerusalem, which he had always kept
alockaded since the death of Jehoiakim, and
:ie led away a very great number of captives
nto Babylon, among whom was the prophet
Ezekiel.

Ezekiel was raised up of God to prophesy
:o the captive Jews, who constantly indulged
the reverie of returning to Jerusalem, while
Jeremiah prophesied to those who were yet in
their country, on whom awaited the same des
tiny. They laboured unanimously to persuade
their countrymen to place no confidence in
their connexion with Egypt; to make no more
unavailing efforts to throw off the yoke of Ne
buchadnezzar; and to obey the commands of
that prince, or rather the commands of God,
who was wishful, by his ministry, to punish
the crimes of all the east.

Our prophet was transported into Jerusalem;
he there saw those Jews, who, at the very time
while they continued to flatter them with avert
ing the total ruin of Judea, hastened the event,
not only by continuing, but by redoubling their
ruelties, and their idolatrous worship. At the
very crisis while he beheld the infamous con
duct of his countrymen in Jerusalem, he heard
God himself announce the punishments with
which they were about to be overwhelmed;
and saying to his ministers of vengeance,
" Go through the city; strike, let not your eye
spare, neither have ye pity: Slay utterly old
and young, both maids and little children; and
women. — Defile my house, and fill the courts
with the slain," ix. 5 — 7. But while God de
livered a commission so terrible with regard to
the abominable Jews, he cast a consoling re
gard on others; he said to a mysterious person,
" Go through the midst of the city, and set a
mark on the foreheads of the men that sigh,
and that cry for the abominations committed
in the midst thereof." I am grieved for the
honour of our critics, who have followed the
Vulgate version in a reading which disfigures
the text; " set the letter than on the foreheads
of those that sigh." To how many puerilities

SER. XCIV.]

CHURCH AT VOORBURGH.

365

has this reading given birth? What mysteries
have they not sought in the letter than? But
the Vulgate is the only version which has thus
read the passage. The word than, in Hebrew,
implies a sign; to write this letter on the fore
head of any one, is to make a mark; and to
imprint a mark on the forehead of a man, is,
in the style of prophecy, to distinguish him by
some special favour. So the Seventy, the
Arabic, and Syriac, have rendered this expres
sion. You will find the same figures employed
by St. John, in the Revelation.

The words of my text have the same import
as the above passage; they mav be restricted
to the Jews already in captivity; I extend them,
however, to the Jews who groaned for the
enormities committed by their countrymen in
Jerusalem. The past, the present, and the fu
ture time, are sometimes undistinguished in
the holy tongue; especially by the prophets, to
whom the certainty of the future predicted
events, occasioned them to be contemplated,
as present, or as already past. Consonant to
this style, " I have cast them far off among the
heathen," may imply, I will cast them far off;
I will disperse them among the nations, &c.

To both those bodies of Jews, of whom I
have spoken, I would say, those already cap
tivated in Babylon when Ezekiel received this
vision, and those who were led away after the
total ruin of Jerusalem, that however afflictive
their situation might appear, God would me
liorate it by constant marks of the protection
he would afford. " Though I may or have
cast them far off among the heathen; and
among the countries; though I may disperse
them among strange nations; yet I will be to
them as a little sanctuary in the countries
where they are come."

This is the general scope of the words we
have read. Wishful to apply them to the de
sign of this day, we shall proceed to draw a
parallel between the state of the Jews in Baby
lon, and that in which it has pleased God to
place the churches whose ruin we have now
deplored for forty years. The dispersion of the
Jews had three distinguished characters.

I. A character of horror;

II. A character of justice;

III. A character of mercy.

A character of horror; this people were dis
persed among the nations; they were compel
led to abandon Jerusalem, and to wander in di
vers countries. A character of justice; God
himself, the God who makes "judgment and
justice the habitation of his throne," Ps. Ixxxix.
15, was the author of those calamities; " I have
cast them far off among the heathen; and dis
persed them among the countries." In fine, a
character of mercy: " though I have cast them
far off among the heathen, I have been," as
we may read, " I will be to them as a little
sanctuary in the countries where they are
come." These are the three similarities be
tween the dispersed Jews, and the reformed, to
whom these provinces have extended a com
passionate arm.

I. The dispersion of the Jews, connected
with all the calamities which preceded and fol
lowed, had a character of horror: let us judge
of it by the lamentations of Jeremiah, who at
tested, as well as predicted the awful scenes.

1. He deplores the carnage which stained
Judea with blood: "The priests and the pro
phets have been slain in the sanctuary of the
Lord. The young and the old lie on the
ground in the streets; my virgins and the
young men are fallen by the sword: thou hast
slain; thou hast killed, and hast not pitied
them in the day of thine anger. Thou hast
convened my terrors, as to a solemn day," chap,
ii. 20—22.

2. He deplores the horrors of the famine
which induced the living to envy the lot of
those that had fallen in war: " The children
and the sucklings swoon in the streets; they
say to their mothers, when expiring in their
bosom, where is the corn and the wine? They
that be slain with the sword are happier than
they that be slain with hunger. Have not the
women eaten the children that they suckled?
Naturally pitiful, have they not baked their
children to supply them with food?" chap. ii.
11, 12. 20; iv. 9, 10.

3. He deplores the insults of their enemies:
" All that pass by clap their hands at theej
they hiss and shake their heads at the daughter
of Jerusalem, saying, Is this the city called the
perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole
earth?" chap. ii. 15.

4. He deplores the insensibility of God him
self, who formerly was moved with their cala
mities, and ever accessible to their prayers:
" Thou hast covered thyself with a cloud that
our prayers should not pass through: and when
I cry and shout, he rejecteth my supplication,"
chap. iii. 44. 8.

5. He deplores the favours God had confer
red, the recollection of which served but to
render their grief the more poignant, and their
fall the more insupportable: " Jerusalem in
the days of her affliction remembered all her
pleasant things that she had in the days of old.
How doth the city sit in solitude that was full
of people? How is she that was great among
the nations become a widow, and she that was
princess among the provinces become tribu
tary?" chap. i. 7. 1.

6. Above all, he deplores the strokes level
led against religion: " The ways of Zion do
mourn because none come to the solemn feasts:
all her gates are desolate: her priests sigh; her
virgins are afflicted. The heathen have enter
ed into her sanctuary; the heathen concerning
whom thou didst say, that they should not
enter into thy sanctuary," chap. i. 4. 10.

These are the tints with which Jeremiah
paints the calamities of the Jews, and making
those awful objects an inexhaustible source of
tears; he exclaims in the eloquence of grief;
" Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Be
hold, and see, if there be any sorrow like unto
my sorrow which is done unto me, wherewith
the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his
fierce anger. For this cause I weep, mine eye,
mine eye runneth down with tears, because
the Comforter that should relieve my soul is
far from me. Zion spreadeth her hands, and
there is none to comfort her. Mine eyes fail
with tears: whom shall I take to witness for
thee; to whom shall I liken thee, O daughter
of Jerusalem; to whom shall I equal thee to
console thee, O daughter of Zion, for thy
breach is great? — O wall of the daughter of

366

CONSECRATION OF THE

[SER. XCIV.

Zion, let tea.'s run down like a river day and
night: give thyself no rest, let not the apple
of thine eye cease. Arise, cry out in the night:
in the beginning of the watches pour out thine
heart like water before the Lord," chap. i. 12.
16, 17; ii. 11. 13. 18, 19.

But is all this a mere portrait of past ages,
or did the Spirit of God designate it as a
figure of ages that were to come! Are those
the calamities of the Jews that Jeremiah has
endeavoured to describe, or are they those
which for so many years have ravaged our
churches! Our eyes, accustomed to contem
plate so many awful objects, have become in
capable of impression. Our hearts, habituated
to anguish, are become insensible. Do not
expect me to open the wounds that time has
already closed; but in recalling the recollection
of those terrific scenes which have stained our
churches with blood, I would inquire whether
the desolations of Jerusalem properly so called,
or those of the mystic Jerusalem be most en
titled to our tears? May the sight of the cala
mities into which we have been plunged excite
in the bosom of a compassionate God, emo
tions of mercy! May he in crowning the mar
tyrs, extend mercy to those that occasioned
their death.

I am impelled to the objects which the
solemnities of this day recall to your minds,
though I should even endeavour to dissipate
the ideas; I would say, to the destruction of
our churches, and to the strokes which have
been levelled against our religion. The colours
Jeremiah employed to trace the calamities of
Jews, cannot be too vivid to paint those which
have fallen on us. One scourge has followed
another for a long series of years, " One deep
has called unto another deep at the noise of
his water-spouts," Ps. xlii. 7. A thousand and
a thousand strokes were aimed at our unhappy
churches prior to that which rased them to the
ground! and if we may so speak, one would
have said, that those armed against us were
not content with being spectators of our ruin;
they were emulous to effectuate it.

Sometimes they published edicts against*
those who foreseeing the impending calamities
of the church, and unable to avert them, sought
the sad consolation of not attesting the scenes.*
Sometimes against those who having had the
baseness to deny their religion, arid unable to
bear the remorse of their conscience, had re
covered from their fall.f Sometimes they pro
hibited pastors from exercising their discipline
on those of their flock who had abjured the
truth. | Sometimes they permitted children at
the age of seven years to embrace a doctrine,
in the discussion of which they affirm, that
even adults were inadequate to the task.§ At
one time they suppressed a college, at another
they interdicted a church. || Sometimes they
envied us the glory of converting infidels and
idolaters; and required that those unhappy
people should not renounce one kind of idola
try but to embrace another, far less excusable,
as it dared to show its front amid the light of
the gospel. They envied us the glory also of

* The edict of August, 1689.

f Declaration against the relapsed, May 1679.

} June 1680. § June 1681. || January 1683.

confirming those in the truth who we had in
structed from our infancy. Sometimes they
prohibited the pastors from exercising the mi
nisterial functions for more than three years in
the same place.* Sometimes they forbade us
to print our books;f and sometimes seized those
already published-! Sometimes they obstruct
ed our preaching in a church: sometimes from
doing it on the foundations of one that had
been demolished; and sometimes from wor
shipping God in public. At one time they
exiled us from the kingdom; and at another,
forbade our leaving it on pain of death. §
Here you might have seen trophies prepared
for those who had basely denied their religion,
there you might have seen dragged to the pri
sons, to the scaffold, or to the galleys, those
who had confessed it with an heroic faith: yea,
the bodies of the dead dragged on hurdles for
having expired confessing the truth. In an
other place you might have seen a dying man
at compromise with a minister of hell, on per
sisting in his apostacy, and the fear of leaving
his children destitute of bread; and if he made
not the best use of those last moments that the
treasures of Providence, and the long-suffering
of God, yet afforded him to recover from his
fall. In other places, fathers and mothers
tearing themselves away from children, con
cerning whom the fear of being separated from
them in eternity made them shed tears more
bitter than those that flowed on being separat
ed in this life. Elsewhere you might have
seen whole families arriving in Protestant coun
tries with hearts transported with joy, once
more to see churches, and to find in Christian
communion, adequate sources to assuage the
anguish of the sacrifices they had made for its
enjoyment. Let us draw the curtain over
those affecting scenes. Our calamities, like
those of the Jews, have had a character of
horror; this is a fact; this is but too easy to
prove. They have had also a character of
justice, which we proceed to prove in our se
cond head.

II. That public miseries originate in the
crimes of a chastened people, is a proposition
that scarcely any one will presume to deny
when proposed in a vague and general way;
but perhaps it is one of those whose evidence
is less perceived when applied to certain pri
vate cases, and when we would draw the con
sequences resulting from it in a necessary and
immediate manner: propose it in a pulpit, and
each will acquiesce. But propose it in the cabi
net; say, that the equipment of fleets, the levy
of armies, and contraction of alliances, are
feeble barriers of the state, unless we endea
vour to eradicate the crimes which have en
kindled the wrath of Heaven, and you would
be put in the abject class of those good and
weak sort of folks that are in the world. I do
not come to renew the controversy, and to in
vestigate what is the influence of crimes on
the destiny of nations, and the rank it holds
in the plans of Providence. Neither do I ap
pear at the bar of philosophy the most scrupu
lous and severe, and at the bench of policy the
most refined and profound, to prove that it is

* August 1684.
1 Sept. 6th, 1685.

SER. XCIV.]

CHURCH AT VOORBURGH.

367

not possible for a state long to subsist in splen
dour which presumes to derive its prosperity
from the practice of crimes. For,

Who is he that will dare to exclaim against
a proposition so reasonable, and so closely con
nected with the grand doctrines of religion;
and which cannot be renounced without a
stroke at the being of a God, and the superin
tendence of a Providence? a man admitting
those two grand principles, and presuming to
make crimes subservient to the support of so
ciety, should digest the following propositions.
There is indeed a God in heaven, who has
constituted society to practise equity; to main
tain order; and to cherish religion; he has con
nected its prosperity with these duties; but by
the secrets of my policy, by the depths of my
counsels, by the refinement pf my wisdom, I
know how to elude his designs, and avert his
denunciations. God is indeed an Almighty
Being whose pleasure has a necessary connex
ion with its execution; he has but to blow with
his wind on a nation, and behold it vanishes
away; but I will oppose power to power; I will
force his strength;* and by my fleets, my armies,
my fortress, I will elude all those ministers of
vengeance. God has indeed declared, that he
is jealous of his glory; that soon or late he will
exterminate incorrigible nations; and that if
from the nature of their vices there proceed
not a sufficiency of calamities to extirpate
them from the earth, he will superadd those
unrelenting strokes of vengeance which shall
justify his Providence; but the state, over
which I preside, shall be too small, or perhaps
too great to be absorbed in the vortex of his
commanding sway. It shall be reserved of
Providence as an exception to this general rule,
and made to subsist in favour of those very
vices, which have occasioned the sa-ckage of
other nations. My brethren, there is, if I may
presume so to speak, but a front of iron and
brass that can digest propositions so daring,
and prefer the system of Hobbs and of Ma-
chiavel to that of David and of Solomon.

But what awful objects should we present to
your view, were we wishful to enter on a de
tail of the proofs concerning the equity of the
strokes with which God afflicted the Jews;
and especially were we wishful to illustrate the
conformity found in this second head, between
the desolations of those ancient people, and
those of our own churches?

To justify what we have advanced on the
first head, it would be requisite to investigate
many of their kings, who were monsters rather
than men; it would be requisite to describe the
hardness of the people who were wishful that
the ministers of the living God, sent to rebuke
their crimes, might contribute to confirm them
therein; and who, according to the expression
of Isaiah, "said to the seer, see not; and to
those who had visions, see no more visions of
uprightness; speak unto us smooth things,
prophecy deceit. Get you out of the way,
turn aside out of the path, cause the Holy One
of Israel to cease from before us," xxx. 10, 11.
It would be requisite to exhibit the connivance
of many of their pastors, who, as Jeremiah

* The versions vary very much in reading; Isaiah
iivii. 5. Vide Poh Synopsis Grit, in toe.

says, " healed the hurt of his people slightly,
saying, peace, peace, when there was no peace;"
vi. 14; and who were so far from suppressing
the licentiousness of the wicked, as to make it
their glory to surpass them! It would be re
quisite to describe the awful security which in
the midst of the most tremendous visitations
infatuated them to say, " We have made a co
venant with death, and with hell we are at
agreement," Isa. xxviii. 15. It would be re
quisite to trace those sanguinary deeds, which
occasioned that just rebuke, " In the skirts of
thy robe is found the blood of the innocent
poor," Jer. ii. 34. It would be requisite to ex
hibit those scenes of idolatry, which made a
prophet say, " Lift up thine eyes on the high
places, and see where thou hast been lien with.
O Juda, thy gods are as many as thy cities,"
ii. 28; iii. 2. It would be requisite to speak of
that paucity of righteous men, which occasion
ed God himself to say, " Run ye to and fro
through the streets of Jerusalem, and see now
and know, and seek ye in the broad places
thereof, if ye can find a man, if there be any
that executeth judgment, that seeketh truth,
and I will pardon it," v. i.

But instead of retracing those awful recol
lections, and deducing from them the just
application of which they are susceptible,
it would be better to comprise them in that
general confession, and to acknowledge when
speaking of your calamities what the Jews
confessed when speaking of theirs: " The Lord
is righteous, for I have rebelled against him.
Certainly thou art righteous in all the things
that have happened, for thou hast acted in
truth, but we have done wickedly. Neither
have our kings, our princes, our priests, nor
our fathers, kept thy law, nor hearkened unto
thy commandments, and to thy testimonies
wherewith thou didst testify against them,"
Lam. i. 18; Neh. ix. 34.

III. But it is time to present you with ob
jects more attractive and assortable with the
solemnities of this day. The calamities which
fell upon the Jews, and those which have fallen
on us; those calamities which had a character
of justice; yea, even a character of horror,
had also a character of mercy; and this is what
is promised the Jews in the words of my text:
" Although I have cast them far off among the
heathen, and among the countries; yet I will
be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries
where they are come." Whether you give
these words, " as a little sanctuary," a vague,
or a limited signification, all resolves to the
same sense. If you give them a limited im
port, they refer to the temple of Jerusalem,
which the Chaldeans had destroyed, and which
was the emblem of God's presence in the
midst of his people. " I have dispersed them
among the heathen;" I have deprived them of
their temple, but I will grant them supernatu-
rally the favours I accorded to their prayers
once offered up in the house, of which they
have been deprived. In this sense St. John
said, that he " saw no temple in the new Je
rusalem, because God and the Lamb were the
temple thereof," Rev. xxi. 22. If you give
these, words an extended import, they allude
to the dispersion. " Although I have cast them
off among the heathen, and put them far

368

CONSECRATION OF THE

[SER. XCIV.

away" from the place of their habitation; yet

1 will be myself their refuge. Much the same
is said by the author of the xcth psalm; Lord,
" thou hast been our retreat, or refuge, from
one generation to another." But without a
minute scrutiny of the words, let us justify the
thing.

1. Even amid the carnage which ensued on
the taking of Jerusalem, many of the princi
pal people were spared. It appears from the
sacred history, that Jeremiah was allowed to
choose what retreat he pleased, either to re
main in Babylon,* or to return to his country.
He chose the latter; he loved the foundations
of Jerusalem, and of his temple, more than
the superb city; and it was at the sight of
those mournful 'ruins, that he composed those
Lamentations, from which we have made
many extracts, and in which he has painted in
the deepest tints, and described in the most
pathetic manner, the miseries of his nation.

2. While some of the Jewish captives had
liberty to return to their country, others were
promoted in Babylon to the most eminent of
fices in the empire. The author of the second
Book of Kings says, that Evil-rnerodach " lifted
up the head of Jehoiachin out of prison — and
set his throne above the throne of the kings
that were with him in Babylon." Jeremiah
repeats the same expression of this author,

2 Kings xxv. 28; Jer. lii. 32; and learned men
have thence concluded, " that Jehoiachin
reigned in Babylon over his own dispersed
subjects." Of Daniel we may say the same;
he was made governor of the province of Baby
lon by Nebuchadnezzar, "and chief of the
governors over all the wise men," Dan. ii. 48.
Darius conferred many years afterward the
same dignities on this prophet; and Nehemiah
was cupbearer to Artaxerxes.

3. How dark, how impenetrable soever the
history of the seventy years may be, during
which time the Jews were captive in Babylon,
it is extremely obvious, that they had during
that period some form of government. We
have explained ourselves elsewhere concern
ing what is meant by the ffichmalotarks; that-
is, the chiefs or princes of the captivity. We
ought also to pay some attention to the book
of Susanna: I know that this work bears va
rious marks of reprobation, and that St. Je
rome, in particular, regarded it with so much
contempt as to assure us, in some sort, that it
would never have been put in the sacred ca
non had it not been to gratify a brutish people.
Meanwhile, we ought not to slight what this
book records concerning the general history of
the Jews: now we there see, that during the
captivity, they had elders, judges, and sena
tors; and if we may credit Origen, too much
prejudiced in favour of the book of Susanna,
it was solely to hide the shame of the princes
of their nation that the Jews had suppressed it.

4. God always preserved among them the
ministry, and the ministers. It is indubitable
that there were always prophets during the
captivity; though some of the learned have
maintained, that the sacred books were lost
during the captivity; though one text of

* It appears, below, that Saurin thought Jeremiah and
others returned from Babylon!

Scripture seems to favour this notion; and
though Tertullian and Eusebius presume to
say that Esdras had retained the sacred books
in memory, and wrote them in the order in
which they now stand; notwithstanding all
this, we think ourselves able to prove that the
sacred trust never was out of their hands. It
appears that Daniel read the prophets. The
end of the second book of Chronicles, which
has induced some to conclude that Cyrus was
a proselyte, leaves not a doubt that this prince
must have read the xlivth and xlvth chapters
of Isaiah, where he is expressly named, and to
this knowledge alone we can attribute the
extraordinary expressions of his first edict.
" The Lord God of heaven hath given me all
the kingdoms of the earth; and he has charged
me to build him a temple in Jerusalem,"
2 Chron. xxxvi. 23.

6. God wrought prodigies for the Jews,
which made them venerable in the eyes of
their greatest enemies. Though exiles; though
captives; though slaves of the Chaldeans, they
were distinguished as the favourites of the
Sovereign of the universe. They made the
God of Abraham to triumph even in the midst
of idols; and aided by the prophetic Spirit,
they pronounced the destiny of those very
kingdoms in the midst of which they were dis
persed. Like the captive Ark, they hallowed
the humiliations of their captivity by symbols
of terror. Witness the flames which con
sumed their executioners. Witness the dreams
of Nebuchadnezzar, and of Belshazzar inter
preted by Daniel, and realized by Providence:
witness the praises rendered to God by idola
trous kings: witness the preservation of Daniel
from the fury of the lions; and his enemies
thrown to assuage the appetites of those fero
cious beasts.

6. In a word, the mercy of God appeared
so distinguished in the deliverance accorded to
these same Jews, as to convince the most in
credulous, that the same God who had deter
mined their captivity, was he also who had
prescribed its bounds. He moved in their
behalf the hearts of pagan princes! We see
Darius, and Cyrus, and Artaxerxes, become,
by the sovereignty of Heaven over the heart
of kings, the restorers of Jerusalem, and the
builders of its temple! Xenophon reports,
that when Cyrus took Babylon, he command
ed his soldiers to spare all who spake the Sy
rian tongue; that is to say, the Hebrew nation;
and no one can be ignorant of the edicts is
sued in favour of this people.

Now, my brethren, nothing but an excess of
blindness and ingratitude can prevent the see
ing and feeling in our own dispersion those
marks of mercy, which shone so bright in the
dispersion of the Jews. How else could we
have eluded the troops stationed on the fron
tiers of our country, to retain us in it by force,
and to make us either martyrs or apostates?

What else could excite the zeal of some Pro
testant countries, whose inhabitants you saw
going to meet your fugitives, guiding them in
the private roads, and disputing with one ano
ther who should entertain them; and saying,
" Come, come into our houses, ye blessed of
the Lord?" Gen. xxiv. 31.

Whence proceeds so much success in our

SKR XCIV.]

CHURCH AT VOORBURGH.

369

trade; so much promotion in the army; so
much progress in the sciences; and so much
prosperity in the several professions of many of
us, who, according to the world, are more hap
py in the land of their exile, than they were in
their own country?

Why has God been pleased to signalize his
favours to certain individuals of the nations, and
have extended to us a protecting arm? Why,
when indigence and exiles seemed to enter their
houses together, have we seen affluence, bene
diction, and riches emanate, if we may so speak,
from the bosom of charity and beneficence?

By what miracle have so great a number of
our confessors and martyrs been liberated from
their tortures and their chains?

From what principle proceeds the extraordi
nary difference, God has put between those
of our countrymen, who, without consulting
" flesh and blood, have followed Jesus Christ
without the camp, bearing his reproach," and
those who have wished to join the interests of
mammon with those of heaven? Gal. i. 16;
Hcib. xiii. 13.

We are masters of whatever property with
which it pleased Providence to invest us on our
departure; but our brethren cannot dispose of
theirs but with vexatious restrictions and im
posts.

We have over our children the rights which
nature, society, and religion have given us; we
can promise both to ourselves and to them the
protection of the laws, while we shall continue
to respect the laws, which we teach them to
do. But our countrymen, on leaving their
houses for a few hours, know not on their re
turn, whether they shall find those dear parts
of themselves, or whether they shall be dragged
away to confinement in a convent, or thrown
into a jail.

Whenever the sabbaths and festivals of the
church arrive, we go with our families to render
homage to the Supreme; we rise up in a throng
with a song of triumph in the house of our
God; we make it resound with hymns; we hear
the Scriptures; we offer up our prayers; we par
ticipate of his sacraments; we anticipate the
eternal felicities. But our countrymen have
no part in the joy of our feasts; they are to
them days of mourning; it is with difficulty in
an obscure part of their house, and in the
mortal fear of detection, that they celebrate
some hasty act of piety and religion.

We, when conceiving ourselves to be extend
ed on the bed of death, can call our ministers,
and open to them our hearts, listen to their
gracious words, and drink in the sources of
their comfort. But our countrymen are pur
sued to the last moments of their life by their
enemies, and having lived temporizing, they
die temporizing.

We find then as the captive Jews, the ac
complishment of the prophecy of my text; and
we finjoy, during the years of our dispersion,
favours similar to those which soothed the Jews
during their captivity.

But can we promise ourselves that ours shall
come to a similar close? The mercy of God on
our behalf has already accomplished the pro
mise in the text, " I will be to them as a little
sanctuary in the countries where they are
come." But when shall we see the accora-
VOL. II.— 47

plishment of that which follows. " I will gather
you from among the people, and assemble you
from the countries where ye have been scatter
ed." When is it that so many Christians, who
degenerate as they are, still love religion; when
is it that they shall repair the insults they have
offered to it? When is it, that so many chil
dren who have been torn from their fathers,
shall be restored; or rather, when shall we see
them restored to the church, from whose bosom
they have been plucked? When is it that we
shall see in our country what we see at this
day, Christians emulous to build churches, to
consecrate them, there to render God the early
homage due to his Majesty, and to participate
in the first favours he there accords? " Oh!
ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not
silence; give him no rest till he establish, and
till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth,"
Isa. Ixii. 5, 6. " Give ear, O Shepherd of
Israel, thou that leadest Joseph like a flock,
thou that dwellest between the cherubim shine
forth. Before Ephraim and Benjamin, and
Manasseh, stir up thy strength, and come and
save us," Ps. Ixxx. 1,2. " O Lord God of
hosts, how long wilt thou be angry against
the prayer of thy people?1' ver. 4. "Thou
shalt arise, and have mercy on Zion: for the
time to favour her, yea, the set time is come.
For thy servants take pleasure in stones, and
favour the dust thereof. Then the heathen
shall fear the name of the Lord, and all the
kings of the earth thy glory. When the Lord
shall build up Zion; when he shall regard the
prayer of the destitute, this shall be written
for the generation to come; and the people
which shall be created shall praise the Lord;
for he hath looked down from the height of
his sanctuary," Ps. cii. 13, &c. May this be
the first subject of the prayers we shall this
day offer to God in this holy place.

But asking of him favours so precious, let
us ask with sentiments which ensure success.
May the purity of the worship we render to
God in the churches he has preserved, and in
those he has also allowed to build, obtain re-
edification of those that have been demolished.
May our charity to brethren, the companions
of our exile, obtain a re-union with the brethren,
from whom we have been separated by the ca
lamities of the times. And while God shall still
retard this happy period, may our respect for
our rulers, may our zeal for the public good,
may our punctuality in paying the taxes, may
our gratitude for the many favours we have
received in these provinces, which equalize us
with its natural subjects; and compressing in
my exhortations and prayers, not only my
countrymen, but all who compose this assembly,
may the manner in which we shall serve God
amid the infirmities and miseries inseparable
from this valley of tears, ensure to us, my bre
thren, that after having joined our voices to
those choirs which compose the militant church,
we shall be joined to those that form the church
triumphant, and sing eternally with the angels,
and with the multitude of the redeemed of all
nations, and languages, the praises of the
Creator. God grant us the grace. To whom
be honour and glory henceforth and for ever.
Amen.

370

ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY

[SER. XCV.

SERMON XCV.

ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY
ON THE SABBATH-DAY.

ISAIAH Iviii. 13, 14.

If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath,
from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and
call the Sabbath a delight; the holy of the Lord,
honourable; and shall honour him, not doing
thy own ways, nor finding thy own pleasure,
nor speaking thine own words; then thou shalt
delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause
thee to ride upon the high places of the earth,
and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy fa
ther; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
" WHEN will the new moon be gone, that we
may sell corn? and the sabbath, that we may
set forth wheat?" This was the language that
the prophet Amos put into the mouth of the
profane men in his own time. It is less ex
pressive of their presumptive speeches, than of
the latent wickedness which festered in their
hearts. Religion and politics were closely con
nected in the Hebrew nation. The laws in
flicted the severest penalties on those that vio
lated the exterior of religion. The execrable
men, of whom the prophet speaks, could not
absent themselves from the solemn festivals
with impunity; but they worshipped with con
straint; they regretted the loss of their time;
they reproached God with every moment
wasted in his house; they ardently wished the
feasts to be gone, that they might return, not
only to their avocations, but also to their
crimes; they said in their hearts, " When will
the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn?
and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat?"
Amos viii. 5.

Against this disposition of mind, God has
denounced by the ministry of this same pro
phet, those very awful judgments, which he
has painted in the deepest shades. The Lor,d
hath sworn: — "I will turn your feasts into
mourning, and all your songs into lamentation.
Behold the day cometh, saith the Lord God,
that I will send a famine in the land; not a
famine of bread, not a thirst of water, but of
hearing the words of the Lord. And they
shall wander from sea to sea, and from the
north even to the east; they shall run to and
fro to hear the word of the Lord, and shall not
find it."

My brethren, are you not persuaded, that
the impious men, of whom the prophet speaks,
have had imitators in succeeding times? whence
is it then that some among us have been struck
precisely with the same strokes, if they have
not been partakers of the same crimes? whence
comes this famine of God's word, my dear
countrymen, with which we have been afflicted?
Whence comes the necessity imposed upon us
to wander from sea to sea, to recover this di
vine pasture, if we have not slighted it in places
where it existed in so much abundance and
unction? Whence comes those awful catas
trophes that have changed our solemn feasts
into mourning, if we celebrated them, when it
was in our power, with joy? Whence conies

those lamentations heard in one part of the
church for forty years, and which awful melody
has latterly been renewed, if we sung our sa
cred hymns with a devotion that the praises of
the Creator require of the creature? " O Lord,
righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto us
confusion of faces. The Lord is righteous,
though we have rebelled against him," Dan.
ix. 7. 9. Happy those who groan under the
strokes for the sins they have committed, pro
vided the school of adversity make them wise.
Happy those of you, my brethren, who are
simply the spectators of those calamities, pro
vided you abstain from the sins which have
occasioned them, and become wise at the ex
pense of others.

This is the design of my discourse, in which
I am to address you on the respect due to the
solemn feasts, and to the sabbath-day in par
ticular, leaving conscience to decide whether
it be caprice, or necessity, which prompts us
to choice; whether it be inconsideration, or
mere accident; or whether it has been compul
sion, through the dreadful enormities into
which we are plunged, in regard of the profa
nation of religious festivals, and of the sabbath-
day in particular, that people have for so long
a time justly branded us with reproach: pro-
faneness alone, unless we make efforts to reform
it, is sufficient to bring down the wrath of
God on these provinces. May Heaven deign
to avert those awful presages! May the Al
mighty engrave on our hearts the divine pre
cept inculcated to-day, that we may happily
inherit the favours he has promised! May he
enable us so " to make the sabbaths our de
light," that we may be made partakers of " the
heritage of Jacob;" 1 would say, that of "the
finisher of our faith. Amen."

" If thou turn away thy foot from the sab
bath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day,
and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the
Lord, honourable, and shalt honour him, not
doing thy ways, nor finding thine own plea
sure, nor speaking thine words; then thou shalt
delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause
thee to ride on the high places of the earth,
and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy
father, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken
it." This is our text, and here is our design.
We shall consider the words,

I. With regard to the Jewish church;

II. With regard to the Christian church; or
to be more explicit, God has made two very
different worlds, the world of nature, and the
world of grace. Both these are the heritage of
the faithful, but in a very different way. The
Jews contemplating the world of grace as a dis
tant object, had their imagination principally
impressed with t-he kingdom of nature. Hence,

n their form of thanksgiving, they said, "Bless
ed be God who hath created the wheat; blessed
be God who hath created the fruit of the vine."
Christians, on the contrary, accounting them
selves but strangers in this world, place all their
glory in seeing the marvels of the world of grace.
Hence it is the common theme of their thanks
givings to say, " Blessed be the God and Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his
abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto
a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ
from the dead," 1 Pet. i. 3, 4. Thus it was in

SER. XCV.l

ON THE SABBATH-DAY.

371

a point of order that the difference of dispensa
tions was apparent in the two churches. The
Jew in his sabbath, celebrated the marvels of
nature; but the Christian, exalted to sublimer
views, celebrated the marvels of grace: and this
memorable day of the Saviour's resurrection,
the day in which he saw the work of redemp
tion finished, and the hopes of the church
crowned; two objects to which we shall call
your attention.

1. We shall consider the words of the text
with regard to the Jews. With that view we
shall state, 1. The reasons of the institution of
the Sabbath; 2. The manner in which the pro
phet required it to be celebrated; 3. The pro
mises made to those who worthily hallow the
sabbath-day.

Four considerations gave occasion for the in
stitution of the sabbath-day. God was wishful
to perpetuate two original truths on which the
whole evidence of religion devolves; the first is,
that the world had a beginning; the second is,
that God is its author. You feel the force of
both these points, without the aid of illustra
tion, because, if the world be eternal, there is
some being coeval with the godhead; and if
there be any being coeval with the godhead,
there is a being which is independent of it, and
which is not indebted to God for its existence:
and if there be any being which is not depend
ant on God, I no longer see in him all the per
fection which constitutes his essence: our devo
tion is irregular; it ought to be divided between
all the beings which participate of his perfec
tions.

2. But if the world have not God for its au
thor, it is requisite to establish the one or the
other of these suppositions, either that the world
itself lias a superintending intelligence, or that
it was formed by chance. If you suppose the
world to have been governed by an intelligence
peculiar to itself, you fall into the difficulty you
wish to avoid. You associate with God a be
ing, that, participating of his perfections, must
participate also of his worship. On the con
trary, if you suppose it was made by chance,
you not only renounce all the light of reason,
but you sap the whole foundation of faith: for,
if chance have derived us from nothing, it may
reduce us to nothing again; and if our existence
depend on the caprice of fortune, the immor
tality of the soul is destitute of proof, infidelity
obtains a triumph, religion becomes a pun, and
the hopes of a life to come are a chimera. — It
was therefore requisite, that there should re
main in the church this monument of the cre
ation of the universe.

The second reason was to prevent idolatry.
This remark claims peculiar attention, many of
the Mosaic precepts being founded on the situ
ation in which the Jews were placed. Let this
general remark be applied to the subject in
hand. The people, on leaving Egypt, were
separated from a nation that worshipped the
sun, the moon, and the stars. I might prove it
by various documents of antiquity. A passage
of Diodorus of Sicily, shall suffice: " The an
cient Egyptians (he says,) struck with the
beauty of the universe, thought it owed its ori
gin to two eternal divinities, that presided over
all the others: the one was the sun, to whom
they gave the name of Osiris; the other was the

moon, to whom they gave the name of Isis."
God, to preserve his people from these errors,
instituted a festival which sapped the whole
system, and which avowedly contemplated
every creature of the universe, as the produc
tion of the Supreme Being. And this may be
the reason why Moses remarked to the Jews on
leaving Egypt, that God renewed the institution
of the sabbath. The passage I have in view is
in the fifth chapter of Deuteronomy. " Re
member that thou wast a servant in the land of
Egypt, and the Lord thy God brought thee out,
therefore he commandeth thee to keep his sab
bath.1'

We must consequently regard the sabbath-
day as a high avowal of the Jews of their de
testation of idolatry, and of their ascribing to
God alone the origin of the universe. An ex
pression of Ezekiel is to the same effect: he calls
the sabbath a sign between God and his people:
" I gave them my sabbaths, to be a sign between
me and them, that they might know that I am
the Lord that sanctify them," Ezek. xx. 12. It
is for this very reason, that the prophets exclaim
so strongly against the violation of the sabbath:
it is for the same reason that God commanded
it to be observed with so high a sanction: it is
for the same reason that the sabbath-breakers
were so rigorously punished; even that one for
gathering a bundle of sticks, was stoned by the
people. The law expressly enjoins that those
who profane the festival should be awfully ana
thematized. The passage is very remarkable.
" Ye shall therefore keep the sabbath; for it is
holy unto you: every one that defileth it shall
surely be put to death; for whosoever doeth any
work therein, that soul shall be cut off from
amongst his people," Exod. xxxi. 14. This ex
pression is appropriate to the great anathema,
which was always followed by death. Whence
should proceed so many cautions, so many ri
gours, so many threatenings, so many promises?
You cannot account for them, if the sabbath be
placed among the ceremonial institutions of the
Hebrew code.*

3. God was wishful to promote humanity.
With that view he prescribed repose to the ser
vants and handmaids; that is, to domestics and
slaves. Look on the situation of slaves: it is as
oppressive as that of the beasts. They saw no
termination of their servitude but after the ex
piration of seven years: and it might happen,
that their masters seeing the servitude about to
expire, would become more rigorous, with a
view to indemnify themselves beforehand for
the services they were about to lose. It was
requisite to remind them, that God interests
himself for men whose condition was so abject
and oppressive. This reminds me of a fine pas
sage in PLATO, who says, "that the gods,
moved by the unhappy situation of slaves, have
instituted the sacred festivals to procure them
relaxation from labour."! And CICERO says,
" that the festivals are destined to suspend the
disputes between freemen, and the labours of
slaves."J For the motives of humanity, it is
subjoined in the precept, " Thou shall do no

* It is to be regretted that several writers in our own
country have latterly attempted to class the sabbath among
the ceremonial institutions, which is a perversion of its

"t'Se legibus lib. 2, t De legibu».

372

ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY

XCV.

manner of work, neither thou, nor thine ox
nor thine ass."

I may here put the same question that St.
Paul once put to the Corinthians, " Doth God
take care for oxea?" No; but there is a consti
tutional sympathy, without which the heart is
destitute of compassion. So is the import of a
text in St. John, " No man hath seen God at
any time: if we love one another, God dwelleth
in us, and his love is perfect in us. — If any man
say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a
liar. For he that loveth not his brother whom
he hath seen, how can he love God whom he
hath not seen?" There is here an apparent de
fect in the argumentation, because the faults
we may see in our brother, may obstruct our
attachment, which cannot be the case with re
gard to God. But the apostle's meaning was,
that if an object striking the senses, as our bro
ther, does not excite affection, we cannot love
an object that is abstract, as the Divine Nature.
Now, those who are habitually cruel to animals,
are generally less tender, and they insensibly
lose that constitutional sympathy which pro
duces the affections of the heart and the mind.
This constitutional sympathy excites in us a
painful impression, that on seeing a wounded
man, we are spontaneously moved to succour
the afflicted. This sympathy is excited not
only by the sight of a man, but also by the sight
of a beast, when treated with cruelty. Hence,
on habituating ourselves to be cruel to animals,
we do violence to our feelings, harden the heart,
and extinguish the sympathy of nature. Ah!
how suspicious should we be of virtues merely
rational, and unconnected with the heart. They
are more noble indeed, but they are not so sure.
We may also remark, that those employed in
slaughtering animals, are often wanting in ten
derness and affection. And this very notion
Illustrates several of the Mosaic laws, which
appear at first destitute of propriety, but which
are founded on what we have just said. Such
.s the law which prohibits eating of things stran
gled; such is the law on finding a bird's nest,
which forbids our taking the dam with the
young: such also is that where God forbids our
'' seething a kid in his mother's milk," Gen. ix.
4; Deut. xxii. 6, 7; Exod. xxiii. 19. In the last,
some have thought that God was wishful to
fortify the Jews against a superstitious custom
of the heathens, who after having gathered the
fruits of the vine, seethed a kid in his mother's
milk, and then sprinkled the milk to Bacchus,
that he might cruelly kill this animal which pre
sumes to browse on the vine consecrated to the
god. But I doubt, whether from all the ancient
authors they can adduce a passage demonstra
tive that this species of superstition was known
to subsist in the time of Moses. This difficulty
is obviated by the explication I propose: besides,
it excites humanity by enjoining compassion to
animals, a duty inculcated by the heathens.
The Phrygians were prohibited" from killing an
ox that trod out the com. The judges of the
Areopagus exiled a boy, who had plucked out
:he eyes of a living owl; and they severely pu
nished a man who had roasted a bull alive. The
duty of humanity is consequently a third motive
of the institution of the sabbath. Hereby God
recalled to the recollection of the Jews the situ
ation in which they had been placed in the land

of Egy pt. " The seventh day is the sabbath of
the Lord thy God, — that thy man-servant, and
thy maid-servant may rest as well as thou. And
remember that thou wast a servant in the land
of Egypt, and that the Lord thy God brought
thee thence, through a mighty hand and out
stretched arm: therefore the Lord thy God com-
mandeth thee to keep the sabbath-day," Deut.
v. 14, 15.

4. In a word, the design of God in the insti
tution of the sabbath, was to recall to the minds
of men the recollection of their original equality:
he requires masters and servants alike to abstain
from labour, so as in some sort to confound the
diversity of their conditions, and to abate that
pride, of which superior rank is so common a
source.

There was among the heathens one festival
very singular, which they call the Saturnalia.
It was one of the most ancient festivals of pa
ganism. MACROBIUS affirms, that it was cele
brated in Greece long before the foundation of
Rome. The masters gave the servants a treat;
they placed them at their own table, and
clothed them in their own raiment. The hea
thens say, that this festival was instituted by
king JANUS, to commemorate the age of Saturn,
when men were equal, and unacquainted with
the distinctions of rank and fortune. The in
stitution was highly proper, being founded on
fact, and it may serve aa an illustration of our
text.

God in recalling to men the original equality
of their condition, apprised them in what con
sisted the true excellence of man. It is not in
the difference of rank, or what is called for
tune. It consists in being men: it consists in
the image of God, after which we were made-
and consequently, the humblest of men mado
in his image, are entitled to respect.

This important reflection, I would inculcate
on imperious masters, who treat their domes*
tics as the brutes destitute of knowledge. We
must not, I grant, disturb the order of society^
the Scriptures themselves suppose the diversity
of conditions. Hence they prescribe the duties
of masters to their servants, and the duties of
servants to their masters. But rank cannot
sanction that haughty and disdainful carriage.
Do you know what you do in mauling those
whom certain advantages have placed in your
power? You degrade yourselves; you renounce
your proper dignity; and in assuming an extra
neous glory, you seem but lightly to esteem
that which is natural. I have said, that the
glory of man does not consist in riches, nor in
royalty, but in the excellence of his nature, in
the image of God, after which he was made,
and in the immortality to which he aspires. If
you despise your servants, you do not derive
your dignity from these sources, but from your
exterior condition; for, if you derive it from the
sources I have noticed, you would respect the
persons committed to your care. — This may
suffice for the reasons of the institution of the
sabbath, let us say a word on the manner in
which it must be celebrated.

2. On this subject, the less enlightened rab
bins have indulged their superstition more than
on any other. Having distorted the idea of
the day, they would ascribe to the sabbath the
power of conferring dignity on inanimate crea-

SER. XCV.]

ON THE SABBATH DAY.

373

tures: they even assign this reason, that God
prohibited their offering him any victim not a
week old; and circumcising their children till
that time; they assign, I say, this reason that
no creature could be worthy to be offered to
nim, till he had first been consecrated by a sab
bath!

They have distorted also the obligation im
posed upon them of ceasing from labour. The
Rabbins have reduced to thirty-nine heads
whatever they presume to be forbidden on that
day. Each of those heads includes the minutiae,
and not only the minutiae, and things directly
opposed to the happiness of society, but also to
the spirit of the precept. Some have even
scrupled to defend their own lives on that day
against their enemies. Ptolemy Lagus, and
Pompey after him, at the siege of Jerusalem,
availed themselves of this superstition. Antio-
chus Epiphanes perpetrated an action still more
cruel and vile. He pursued the Jews to the
caves, whither they had fled to hide from his
vengeance. There, on the sabbath-day, they
suffered themselves to be slaughtered as beasts,
without daring either to defend themselves or
even to secure the entrance of their retreat.

Some others, the Dositheans, a branch of
the Samaritans, imposed a law of abiding the
whole day in whatever place they were found
by the sabbath. We recollect the story of the
Jew, who having fallen into an unclean place,
refused to be taken out on the sabbath-day; as
also the decision of the Bishop of Saxony on
that point, who, after knowing his scruple,
condemned him to remain there the whole of
the Sunday also, it being just that a Christian
sabbath should be observed with the same sanc
tity as the Jewish.

They have likewise cast a gloom on the joy
which the faithful should cherish on this holy
day. It is a fact, that some of them fasted to
the close of the day: to this custom the em
peror Augustine alludes, when having remain
ed a whole day without meat, he wrote to Ti
berias, that a Jew did not better observe the
fast of the sabbath, than he had observed it
that day. But the greater number espoused
the opposite side, and under a presumption that
the prophet promised the divine approbation to
those that " make the sabbath their delight,"
they took the greater precaution to avoid what
ever might make them sad. They imposed a
law to make three meals that day. They re
garded fasting the day which preceded, and
followed the sabbath, as a crime, lest it should
disturb the joy. They allowed more time for
sleep than on the other days of the week; they
had fine dresses for the sabbath; they reserved |
the best food, and the most delicious wines to
honour the festival: this is what they called
" making the sabbath a delight!" this induced
Plutarch to believe that they celebrated this
festival in honour of Bacchus, and that the
word sabbath was derived from the Greek seba-
zein, a word appropriate to the licentious prac
tices indulged in the festivals of this false god.
They affirm, on not attaining the sublime of
devotion, that the cause is a deficiency of re
joicing. They even presume, that this joy
reaches to hell, and that the souls of Jews con
demned to its torments, have a respite on the
•abbath-day. Evident it is, that all those no

tions and licentious customs have originated
from an imaginary superstition, and not from
the word of God.

Instead of the whimsical notions they had
imbibed, God required a conduct consonant to
the injunctions of his law. The import of the
phrase, " doing thy own pleasure on my holy
day," is, that thou follow not thy own caprice
in the notions thou hast formed of religion, but
what I myself have prescribed.

Instead of the imaginary excellence they at
tributed to the sabbath, God requires them to
reverence it because it was a sign of commu
nion with him; because in approaching him on
this day, they became more holy; because they
then renewed their vows, and became more
and more detached from idolatry, and in fine,
because on this day they became devoted to his
worship in a peculiar manner. This is the im
port of the expression, " it is holy to the Lord;"
I would say, it is distinguished, it is separated,
from the other days of the week, for the duties
of religion.

Instead of this rigorous sabbath, God requir
ed a cessation from all kinds of labour, which
would tend to interrupt their meditations on
all the marvels he had wrought for their coun
try. He especially required that they should
abstain from travelling long journeys; so is the
gloss which some have given to the words, " If
thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath,"
though, perhaps, withdrawing the foot from
the sabbath is a metaphorical expression for
"ceasing to profane it." But withal, they
were allowed to do works of mercy, whether
divine, or for the preservation of life. Hence
the maxirn of their wiser men, that " the dan
gers of life superseded the sabbath." And the
celebrated Maimonides has decided the lawful
ness of the Jews besieging and defending cities
on the sabbath-day. We see likewise in the
history of the Maccabees, that Matthias and
his sons defended themselves with resolution
on that day. Besides, they were always allow
ed to walk what is called " a sabbath-day's
journey;" that is, two hundred cubits, the dis
tance between the camp and the tabernacle,
while they were in the desert: every Jew being
obliged to attend the divine service, it was re
quisite that this walk should be allowed.* —
This was the divine worship, which above all
ibjects must engross their heart, and especially,
the reading of God's word- This, perhaps, is
the import of the phrase, which excites a very
different idea in our version, "nor speaking
thine own words," which may be read, that
thou mayest attach thyself to the word.

3. It remains to consider the promise con
nected with the observation of the sabbath.
" Then thou shalt delight thyself in the Lord,
and I will cause thee to ride upon the high
places of the earth; and feed thee with the
heritage of Jacob .thy father." This promise
is susceptible of a double import, the one lite
ral, the other spiritual.

The literal refers to temporal prosperity; it
is couched in figures consonant to the oriental

* From the centre, the place of the Tabernacle, to the
extremities of a camp of nearly three millions of people
could not be less than four miles. Hence the prohibition
of journeys of pleasure, and unholy diversions, seems to
have been the object of the precept.

374

ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY

[SER. XCV.

style, and particularly to the prophetic. The
high places of the earth, are those of Palestine
so called, because it is a mountainous country.
The idea of our prophet coincides with whal
Moses has said in the xxxiid chapter of Deute
ronomy. " He has made him to ride upon the
high places of the earth: or to ride on horse
back," as in our text, whicli implies the sur
mounting of the greatest difficulties. Hence,
God's promise to those who should observe his
sabbath, of riding on the high places of the
earth, imports, that they should have a peace
ful residence in the land of Canaan.

Plenty is joined to peace in the words which
follow: " I will feed thee with the heritage of
Jacob thy father." Here is designated the
abundance which the descendants of the patri
arch should enjoy in the promised land. Some
presume that the name of Jacob is here men
tioned in preference of Abraham, because Ja
cob had a peculiar reverence for the sabbath-
day. They say, that Isaiah here refers to an
occurrence in the patriarch's life. It is record
ed in the xxxiiid of Genesis, that Jacob, com
ing from Padan-aram, encamped before the
city of Shechem: and they contend, that it was
to hallow the sabbath, which intervened during
his march. Reverie of the Rabbins. The
promises made to Abraham, and Isaac, respect
ing the promised land, were renewed to Jacob;
hence it might as well be called the heritage of
Jacob, as the heritage of Abraham. This is
the literal sense of my text.

It has also a spiritual sense, which some in
terpreters have sought in this phrase, "the
high places of the earth." They think it
means the abode of the blessed. Not wishful
to seek it in the expression, we shall find it in
the nature of the object. What was this " he
ritage of Jacob?" Was it only Canaan proper
ly so called? This St. Paul denies in the xith
chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Speak
ing of the faith of the patriarchs, he positively
asserts, that the promised land was not its prin
cipal object. The " heritage of Jacob," ac
cording to the apostle, " is a country better than
that which the patriarchs had left;" "that is,-
a heavenly country." This is the heritage of
which the expiring patriarch hoped to acquire
the possession; and of which he said in his last
moments, " O God, I have waited for thy sal
vation," Gen. xlix. 18. This Jerusalem, the
apostle calls a high place, the "Jerusalem
which is above," not because it is situate on
the mountains, but because it really is above
the region of terrestrial things. This is the
Jerusalem which is the mother of us all, and
to which the claims of Christians are not less
powerful than the Jews.

This induces us, my brethren, to consider the
text in regard to Christians, as we have consi
dered it in regard to Jews. Perhaps you have
secretly reproached us, during the course of
this sermon, with having consumed, in less in
structive researches, the limits of our time. —
But, my brethren, if you complain of the re
mote reference which the subject has to your
state, I fear, I do fear, you will murmur against
what follows, as touching you too closely. I
said in the beginning, that it was the dreadful
excess into which we are plunged; the horrible
profanation of the sabbath, a profanation which

has so long and so justly reproached us, which
determined me on the choice of this text. We
proceed therefore to some more pointed re
marks, which shall close this discourse.

II. The whole is reduced to two questions,
in which we are directly concerned. First, are
Christians obliged to observe a day of rest; and
secondly, in these provinces, in this church, is
that day celebrated, I do not say with all the
sanctity it requires, but only, is it observed with
the same reverence as in the rest of the Chris
tian world, even in places the most corrupt?

1. Are Christians obliged to observe a day
of rest? This question has been debated in the
primitive church, and the subject has been re
sumed in our own age. Some of the ancient
and of the modern divines have maintain
ed, not only that the obligation is imposed on
Christians, but that the fourth commandment
of the law ought to be observed in all its ri
gour. Hence, in the first ages, some have had
the same respect for Saturday as for Sunday.
Gregory Nazianzen calls these two days two
companions, for which we should cherish an
equal respect. The constitution of Clement
enjoin both these festivals to be observed in
the church; the sabbath-day in honour of the
creation, and the Lord's-day, which exhibits
to our view the resurrection of the Saviour of
the world.

We have no design, my brethren, to revive
those controversies, this part of our discourse
being designed for your edification. You are
not accused of wanting respect for the Satur
day, but for the day that follows. Your defect
is not a wish to observe two sabbaths in the
week, but a refusal to observe one. It is then
sufficient to prove, that Christians are obliged
to observe one day in the week, and that day
is the first. This is apparent from four consi
derations, which I proceed to name.

First, from the nature of the institution. It
is a general maxim, that whatever morality
was contained in the Jewish ritual; that what
ever was calculated to strengthen the bonds of
our communion with God, to reconcile us to
our neighbour, to inspire us with holy thoughts,
was obligatory on the Christians; and more so
than on the Jews, in proportion as the new
covenant surpasses the old in excellence. Ap
ply this maxim to our subject. The precept
under discussion has a ceremonial aspect, as-
sortable to the circumstances in which the an
cient church were placed. The selection of
the seventh day, the rigours of its sanctity,
and its designs to supersede the idolatrous cus
toms of Egypt, were peculiar to the ancient
church, and purely ceremonial; and in that
view, not binding to the Christian. But the
necessity of having one day in seven conse
crated to the worship of God, to study the
grand truths of religion, to make a public pro
fession of faith, to give relaxation to servants,
to confound all distinction of rank in congrega-
ions, to acknowledge that we are all brethren,
that we are equal in the sight of God, who
there presides, all these are not comprised in
the ritual, they are wholly moral.

2. We have proofs in the New Testament,
that the first day of the week was chosen of
God to succeed the seventh. This day is call
ed in the Book of Revelation, " the Lord's-

SER. XCV.]

ON THE SABBATH-DAY.

375

day," by way of excellence, i. 10. It is said
in the xxth chapter of the Book of Acts, that
the apostles " came together on the first day
of the week to break bread." And St. Paul,
writing to the Corinthians to lay by on the
first day of the week what each had designed
for charity, sanctions the Sunday to be observ
ed instead of the Saturday, seeing the Jews,
according to the testimony of Philo, and Jose-
phus, had been accustomed to make the col
lections on the sabbath-day, and receive the
tenths in the synagogues to carry to Jerusa
lem.*

3. On this subject, we have likewise au
thentic documents of antiquity. Pliny, the
younger, in his letter to the emperor Trajan
concerning the Christians, says, that they set
apart one day for devotion, and it is indisputa
ble that he means the Sunday. Justin Martyr
in his Apologies, and in his letter to Denis,
pastor of Corinth, bears the same testimony.
The emperor Constantino made severe laws
against those who did not sanctify the sabbath.
These laws were renewed by Theodosius, by
Valentinian, by Arcadius; for, my brethren,
these emperors did not confine their duties to
the extension of trade, the defence of their
country, and to the establishment of politics
as the supreme Jaw; they thought themselves
obliged to maintain the laws of God, and to
render religion venerable; and they reckoned
that the best barriers of a state were the fear
of God, and a zeal for his service. They is
sued severe edicts to enforce attendance on de
votion, and to prohibit profane sports on this
day. The second council of Macon,f held in
the year 585, and the second of Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, held in 836, followed by their canons the
same line of duty.

4. But the grand reason for consecrating one
day in seven arises from ourselves, from the in-

* Saurin is here brief on the reasons assigned for the
change of the sabbath, from the seventh to the first day
of the week. The reader, however, may see them at
large in the second volume of Dr. Lightfoot's works, and
in the works of Mr. Mede. They are in substance as
follow: that the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath; and
the Supreme Lawgiver of his church. He has not only
changed the old covenant for the new. but he has super
seded the shadows of the ritual law for the realities; bap
tism for circumcision, and the holy supper for the pass-
over. The sabbath was first instituted to commemorate
the creation; and the redemption is viewed at large as a
new creation. Isa. Ixv. The institution was renewed to
commemorate the emancipation from Egypt; how much
more then should it be enforced to commemorate the re
demption of the world? To disregard it would appa
rently implicate us in a disbelief of this redemption.
Moses, who renewed the sabbath, was faithful as a ser
vant, but Christ, who changed it, is the Son, and Lord of
all. The sabbath was the birth-day of the Lord of Glory
from the tomb: " Thou art my Son; this day have I be
gotten thee," Ps. ii. It was not less so the birth-day of
our hope; God hath begotten us again " unto a lively
hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,"
1 Pet. i. 3. And this was the day in which he began his
glorious reign. He then affirmed, that " All power was
given unto him in heaven and earth," Matt, xxviii. 18.
And how could the church rejoice while the Lord was
enveloped in the tomb? But on the morning of the resur

rec
mtn
dead

tion, it was said by the Father to the Son, "Thy dead
n «,hall live." The Son replies, " Together with my
d body shall they arise! Awake, and sing, ye that

dwell in dust," Isa. xxvi. 19. " This is the day the Lord

hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalms

cxviii. 24. I. S.

f Macon, Matisco, is situate 40 miles north of Lyons,

and was a depot of the Romans.— Boiste's Diet. 1806.

I. S.

finity of dissipations which was the ordinary
course of life. Tax your conscience with the
time you spend in devotion when alone. Do
we not know; do we not see; do we not learn
on all sides, how your days are spent5 Do we
not know how those grave men live, who, from
a notion of superior rank, think themselves ex
cused from examining their conscience, and at
tending to the particulars of religion? Do we not
know how that part of mankind live, who ap
parently have abandoned the care of their soul
to care for their body, to dress and to undress,
to visit and receive visits, to play both night
and day, and thus to render diversions, some
of which might be innocent as recreations, if
used with moderation, to render them, I say,
criminal, by the loss of time? Is it solitude, is
it reading God's word which excite those reve
ries which constantly float in your brain; and
those extravagances of pleasures whereby you
seem to have assumed the task of astonishing
the church by the amusement you afford to
some, and the offence you give to others? It
was, therefore, requisite that there should be
one day destined to stop the torrent, to recall
your wandering thoughts, and to present to
your view those grand truths, which so seldom
occur in the ordinary pursuits of life.

These remarks may suffice for the illustra
tion of the first question, whether Christians
are obliged to observe one day in seven: our
second inquiry is, whether this day is celebrated
in these provinces, I do not say as it ought;
but, at least, is it celebrated with the same de
cency as in the most corrupt parts of the Chris
tian world?

Ah! my brethren, must every duty of Chris
tianity suffgest occasion to complain of your
conduct, and furnish impeachments for your
condemnation? I look round for one trait in
morality, to which we have nothing but ap
plause to bestow, and of which we may say,
go on, go on; that is well done, " Blessed is
that servant, whom when his Lord cometh he
shall find so doing. I look for one period in
your life in which I may find you Christians in
reality, as you are in name. I watch you for
six days in the bustle of business, and I find
you haughty, proud, voluptuous, selfish, and
refractory to every precept of the gospel. Per
haps, on this hallowed day you shall be found
irreproachable; perhaps, satisfied with giving
to the world six days of the week, you will
consecrate to the Lord the one which is so pe
culiarly devoted to him. But, alas! this day,
this very day, is spent as the others; the same
pursuits, the same thoughts, the same plea
sures, the same employments, the same intem
perance!

In other places, they observe the exterior,
at least. The libertine suspends his pleasures,
the workmen quit their trades, and the shopa
are shut: and each is accustomed to attend
some place of worship. But how many among
us, very far from entering into the spirit and
temper of Christianity, are negligent of its ex
terior decencies!

How scandalous to see on the sabbath, the
artificer, publicly employed at his work, pro
faning this hallowed festival by his common
trade; wasting the hours of devotion in me
chanical labours; and defying, at the same

376

ON FESTIVALS, &c.

[SER. XCV

time, both the precepts of religion, and the in
stitutions of the church!

How scandalous to see persons of rank, of
age, of character, live, I do not say whole weeks,
I do not say whole months, but whole years,
without once entering these churches, attend
ing our devotion, and participating.of our sacra
ments!

How scandalous that this sabbath is the very
day marked by some for parties, and festivity
in the highest style! How scandalous to see
certain concourses of people; certain doors
open; and certain flambeaux lighted: those
who have heard a report that you are Chris
tians, expect to find you in the houses of prayer:
but what is their astonishment to see that those
houses are the rendezvous of pleasure!

And what must we think of secret devotion,
when the public is so ill discharged? How
shall we persuade ourselves that you discharge
the more difficult duties of religion, when
those that are most easy are neglected? See
ing you do not sufficiently reverence religion
to forego certain recreations, how can we think
that you discharge the duties of self-denial, of
crucifying the old man, of mortifying concu
piscence, and of all the self-abasement, which
religion requires?

What mortifies us most, and what obliges
us to form an awful opinion on this conduct is,
that we see its principle. — Its principle, do
you ask, my brethren? It is, in general, that
you have very little regard for religion; and
this is the most baneful source, from which our
vices spring. When a man is abandoned to a
bad habit; when he is blinded by a certain pas
sion; when he is hurried away with a throng
of desire, he is then highly culpable, and he
has the justest cause of alarm, if a hand, an
immediate hand, be not put to the work of re
formation. In this case, one may presume,
that he has, notwithstanding, a certain respect
for the God he offends. One may presume,
that though he neglects to reform, he, at least,
blames his conduct; and that if the charm
were once dissolved, truth would resume her
original right, and that the motives of virtue
would be felt in all their force. But when a
man sins by principle; when he slights religion;
when he regards it as a matter of indiffer
ence; what resource of salvation have we then
to hope? This, with many of you, is the lead
ing fault. The proofs are but too recent, and
too numerous. You have been often reproach
ed with it, and if I abridge this point, it is not
through a deficiency, but a superabundance of
evidence, which obliges me to do it. And
meanwhile, what alas! is this fortune; what is
this prosperity; what is the most enviable situ
ation in life; what is all this that pleases, and
enchants the soul, when it is not religion which
animates and governs the whole?

Ah! my brethren! to what excess do you ex
tend your corruption? What then is the time
you would devote to piety? When will you
work for your souls? We conjure you by the
bowels of Jesus Christ, who on this day finish
ed the work of your salvation, that you return
to recollection. When we enforce, in general,
the necessity of holiness, we are lost in the
multitude of your duties, and having too many
things to practise, you often practise none at

all. But here is one particular point; here is a
plain precept, Remember the Sabbath day.

A mournful necessity induces us, rny bre
thren, to exhort you to estimate the privilege
God affords you of coming to his house, of
pouring out your souls into his bosom, and of
invigorating your love.

Ah! poor Christians, whom Babylon encloses
in her walls, how are you to conduct your
selves in the discharge of those duties! O that
God, wearied with the strokes inflicted upon
you, would turn away from his indignation!

0 that the barriers which prohibit -your access
to these happy climates were removed! O that
your hopes, so often illusive, were but gratified.

1 seem to see you, running in crowds: I seem
to see the fallen rise again; and our confessors,
more grateful for their spiritual, than their
temporal liberty, come to distinguish their
zeal. But these are things as yet, " hid from
your eyes."

O my God! and must thy church still be a
desolation in all the earth? Must it in one
place be ravaged by the tyrant, and in another
seduced by the tempter; an enemy more dan
gerous than the tyrants, and more cruel than
the heathen? Must our brethren at the gal
leys still be deprived of the sabbath, and must
we, by the profanation of this day, force thee
to visit us, as thou hast visited them? Let us
prevent so great a calamity; let us return to
ourselves; let us hallow this august day; let
us reform our habits; and let us "make the
sabbath our delight."

It is requisite that each should employ the
day in contemplating the works of nature; but
especially the works of grace; and like the
cherubim inclined toward the ark, that each
should make unavailing efforts to see the bot
tom, and trace the dimensions, " the length and
breadth, the depth and height, of the love of
God, which passeth all knowledge," Eph. iii.
19.

It is requisite, that our churches should be
crowded with assiduous, attentive, and well-
disposed hearers; that God should there hear
•the vows that we are his people, his redeemed,
and that we wish the sabbath to be a " sign be
tween us and him," as it was to the Israelites.

It is requisite, on entering this place, that
we should banish from our mind all worldly
thoughts. Business, trade, speculations, gran
deur, pleasure, you employ me sufficiently dur
ing the week, allow me to give the sabbath to
God. Pursue me not to his temple; and let
not the flights of incommpding birds disturb
my sacrifice.

It is requisite at the close of worship, that
each should be recollected, that he should me
ditate on what he has heard, and that the
company with whom he associates should as
sist him to practise, not to eradicate the truths
from his mind.

It is requisite that the heads of houses should
call their children, and their servants together,
and ask them, What have you heard? What
have you understood? What faults have you
reformed? What steps have you taken? What
good resolutions have you formed?

It is requisite wholly to dismiss all those se
cular cares and servile employments which
have occupied us during the week; not tba*

SER. XCVL]

THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE.

377

holiness consists in mere abstinence, and in
the observance of that painful minutiae; but
in a more noble and exalted principle. It is,
no doubt, the obtrusion of a galling yoke, that
we, who are made in the image of God, and
have an immortal soul, should be compelled,
during the whole of this low and grovelling
life, to follow some trade, some profession, or
some labour, by no means assortable with the
dignity of man. So is our calamity. But it
is requisite at least, it is highly requisite, that
one day in the week we should remember our
origin, and turn our minds to things which are
worthy of their excellence. It is requisite,
that one day in the week we should rise supe
rior to sensible objects; that we should think
of God, of heaven, and of eternity; that we
should repose, if I may so speak, from the vio
lence which must be done to ourselves to be
detained on earth for six whole days. O bless
ed God, when shall " the times of refreshing
come," in which thou wilt supersede labour,
and make thy children fully free? Acts iii. 21.
When shall " we enter the rest that remaineth
for thy people?" Heb. iv. 9; in which we shall
be wholly absorbed in the contemplation of
thy beauty, we shall resemble thee in holiness
and happiness, because " we shall see thee as
thou art," and thou thyself shalt " be all in
all?" Amen.

SERMON XCVI.

THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE.

LUKE xiii. 1 — 5.

There were present at that season some that told
him of the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had
mingled with their sacrifices. And, Jesus an
swering, said unto them, suppose ye that these
Galileans, were sinners above all the Galileans,
because they suffered such things? I tell you,
nay; but, except ye repent, ye shall all like
wise perish. Or those eighteen upon whom
the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think
ye that they were sinners above all that dwelt in
Jerusalem? I tell you, nay: but except ye re
pent ye shall all likewise perish.
" I HAVE cut off the nations, 1 have made
their towers desolate, I have sapped the foun
dation of their cities; I said, surely thou shalt
receive instruction, so that thy dwelling shall
not be cut off," Zeph. iii. 6, 1. This instruc
tive caution God once published by the minis
try of Zephaniah. And did it regard that age
alone, or was it a prophecy for future times?
Undoubtedly, my brethren, it regarded the
Jews in the prophet's time. They saw every
where around them exterminated nations, for
tresses in ruins, villages deserted, and cities
sapped to the foundation. The judgments of
God had fallen, not only on the idolatrous na
tions, but the ten tribes had been overwhelm
ed. The Jews, instead of receiving instruction,
followed the crimes of those whom God had
cut off, and involved themselves in the same
calamities.

And if these words were adapted to that
aire, how strikingly, alas! are they applicable
VOL. II.— 48

to our own? What do we see around us?
Nations exterminated, villages deserted, and
cities sapped to the foundation. The visita
tions of God are abroad in Europe; we are
surrounded with them; and are they not in
tended, I appeal to your conscience, for our
instruction? But let us not anticipate the close
of this discourse. We propose to show you
in what light we ought to view the judgments
which God inflicts on the human kind. You
have heard the words of our text. We shalJ
stop but a moment to mark the occasion, and
direct the whole of our care to enforce their
principal design. After having said a word
respecting " the Galileans, whose blood Pilate
had mingled with their sacrifices;" and respect
ing the dreadful fall of this tower which crush
ed eighteen persons under its ruins, we shall
endeavour to examine.

I. The misguided views with which man
kind regard the judgments God openly inflicts
upon their neighbours.

II. The real light in which those judgments
ought to be considered. The first of these
ideas we shall illustrate on the occasion of the
tragic accidents mentioned in the text, which
were reported to Jesus Christ. The second,
we shall illustrate on occasion of the answer
of Jesus Christ himself; " Suppose ye that
these Galileans were sinners above all the Gali
leans? Suppose ye that those eighteen were
sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? I
tell you, nay: but except ye repent, ye shall
all likewise perish." Considering the text in
this view, we shall learn to avert the judg
ments of God from falling on our own heads,
by the way in which we shall consider his
visitations on others. God grant it. Amen.

What was the occasion of Pilate's cruelty,
and of the vengeance he inflicted on those
Galileans? This is a question difficult to de
termine. The most enlightened commentators
assure us, that they find no traces of it either
in Jewish, or in Roman history. The wary
Josephus, according to his custom on those
subjects, is silent here; and, probably, on the
same principle which induced him to make no
mention of the murder of the infants commit
ted by the cruel Herod.

Pilate you know in general. He was one
of those men whom God, in the profound se
crets of his providence, suffers to attain the
most distinguished rank to execute his designs,
when they have no view but the gratification
of their own passions. He was a man, in
whom much cruelty, joined to extreme ava
rice, rendered proper to be a rod in God's
hand; and who, following the passions which
actuated his mind, sometimes persecuting the
Jews to please the heathens, and sometimes
the Christians to please the Jews, sacrificed
the Finisher of our faith, and thus after trou
bling the synagogue, he became the tyrant
of both the churches.

Perhaps the vengeance he executed on the
Galileans was not wholly without a cause.
Here is what some have conjectured upon this
narrative. Gaulon* was a town of Galilee:
here a certain Judas was born, who on that
account was surnamed the Gaulonite, of whom

* Joseph. Antic, lib. 18. c. 1.

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[SKR. XCVI.

we have an account in the fifth chapter of the
book of the Acts.* This man was naturally
inclined to sedition. He communicated the
spirit of revolt to his family, from his family
to the city, from the city to the province, and
from the province to all Judea. He had the
art of catching the Jews by their passions; I
would say, by their love of liberty. He excit
ed them to assert their rights, to maintain
their privileges, to throw off the yoke the Ro
mans wished to impose, and to withhold the
tribute. He succeeded in his designs; the Jews
revered him as a patriot. But to remedy an
inconsiderable evil, he involved them in a thou
sand disgraces. It has been conjectured that
those whose blood was mingled with their
sacrifices, were some of the seditious who had
come to Jerusalem to celebrate the passover,
and of whom Pilate wished to make an exam
ple to intimidate others.

What we said of Pilate's cruelty, suggested
by the subject, is wholly uncertain; we say the
same of the tragic accident immediately sub
joined in our text; I would say, the tower of
Siloam, which crushed eighteen people under
its ruins. We know in general, that there
was a fountain in Jerusalem called Siloam,
mentioned in the ninth chapter of St. John,
and in the eighth chapter of Isaiah. We know
that this fountain was at the foot of mount
Zion, as many historians have asserted. We
know that it had five porches, as the gospel
expressly affirms. We know several particu
lars of this fountain, that it was completely
dried up before the arrival of the emperor
Titus; and that it flowed not again till the
commencement of the siege of Jerusalem: so we
are assured by Josephus.f We know likewise,
that the empress Helena embellished it with
various works, described by Nicephorus.J We
know likewise various superstitions to which it
has given birth; in particular, what is said by
Geotfroy de Viterbus, that there was near it
another fountain called the Holy Virgin, be
cause, they say, this blessed woman drew wa
ter from it to wash the linen of Jesus Christ,
and of her family. We are told also that the-'
Turks have so great a veneration for it as to
wash their children in the same water, and to
perform around it various rituals of supersti
tion. § But what this tower was, and what the
cause of its fall was, we cannot discover, nor
is it a matter of any importance.

Let us make no more vain efforts to illustrate
a subject, which would be of little advantage,
though we could place it in the fullest lustre.
Let us turn the whole of our attention to what
is of real utility. We have proposed, conform
ably to the text, to inquire, first, into the er
roneous light in which men view the judg
ments God inflicts on their own species; and,
secondly, the real light in which they ought to
be considered. Here is in substance the sub
ject of our discourse. Mankind regard the
judgments God inflicts on their own species,
1. With a spirit of indifference; but Jesus Christ
would thereby excite in them a disposition of

* Theudas, v. 30.

f Wars of the Jews, lib. v. cap. 26.
t Fxicles. Hist. lib. viii. cap. 20.

§ Voiez Jesuit Eusebius Kiereinberg de Lerrapromis,
cap. 48.

thought and reflection. 2. They regard them
with a spirit of blindness; but Jesus Christ
would excite in them a spirit of instruction and
knowledge. 3. They regard them with a spirit
of rigour to others, and preference of them
selves; but Jesus Christ would excite in them
a compassionate and humble temper. 4. They
regard with an obdurate spirit; but Jesus Christ
would excite in them a spirit of reformation
and repentance. These are terms to which
we must attach distinct ideas, and salutary in
structions. If we shall sometimes recede from
the words of Jesus Christ, it shall be to ap
proximate ourselves more to the situation in
which Providence has now placed us. And
if we shall sometimes recede from the circum
stances in which Providence has now placed
us, it shall be to approach the nearer to the
views of Jesus Christ.

The first characteristic of the erroneous dis
position with which we regard the judgments
God inflicts on other men, is stupor and inat
tention. I do not absolutely affirm, that people
are not at all affected by the strokes of Provi
dence. The apathy of the human mind cannot
extend quite so far. How was it that this un
heard-of cruelty could scarce impress the mind
of those who were present? Here are men who
came up to Jerusalem, who came to celebrate
the feast with joy, who designed to offer their
victims to God; but behold, they themselves
became the victims of a tyrant's fury, who
mixed their blood with that of the beasts they
had just offered! Here are eighteen men em
ployed in raising a tower, or perhaps accident
ally standing near it; and behold, they are
crushed to pieces by its fall! Just so, wars,
pestilence, and famine, when we are not im
mediately, or but lightly involved in the ca
lamity, make indeed a slight, though very
superficial, impression on the mind. We find,
at most, in these events, but a temporary sub
ject of conversation; we recite them with the
news of the day, " There were present at that
season, some who told him of the Galileans;"
but we extend our inquiries no farther, and
never endeavour to trace the designs of Provi
dence. There are men who feel no interest
but in what immediately affects themselves,
provided their property sustain no loss by the
calamity of others; provided their happiness flow
in its usual course; provided their pleasures are
not interrupted, though the greatest calamities
be abroad in the earth, and though God inflict
before our eyes the severest strokes, to them,
it is of no moment. Hence the first mark of
the misguided disposition with which men re
gard the judgments of the Lord on others, is
stupor and inattention.

But how despicable is this disposition! Doea
one live solely for one's self? Are men capa
ble of being employed about nothing but their
own interests? Are they unable to turn their
views to the various bearings under which the
judgments of God may be considered? Every
thing claims attention in these messengers of
the divine vengeance. The philosopher finds
here a subject of the deepest speculation. What
are those impenetrable springs, moved of God,
which shake the fabric of the world, and sud
denly convulse the face of society? Is it the
earth, wearied of her primitive fertility, which

SER. XCVL]

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379

occasions barrenness and famine? Or, is it
some new malediction, supernaturally denounc
ed by him who renders nature fruitful in her
ordinary course? Is it the exhalations from
the earth which empoison the air; or, are
there some pernicious qualities formed in the
air which empoison the earth? By what secret
of nature, or phenomenon of the Creator, does
the contagion pass with the velocity of light
ning from one clime to another, bearing on the
wings of the wind the infectious breath of one
people to another? The statesman admires
here the catastrophes of states, and the vicissi
tudes of society. He admires how the lot of
war in an instant raises him who was low, and
abases him who was high. He sees troops
trained with labour, levied with difficulty, and
formed with fatigue; he sees them destroyed by
a battle in an hour; and what is more awful still,
he sees them wasted by disease without being
able to sell their lives, or to dip their hands in
the enemies' blood. The dying man sees, in
the calamities of others, the image of his own
danger. He sees death armed at all points,
" and him that hath the power of death"* mov
ing at his command the winds, the waves, the
tempests, the pestilence, the famine and war.
The Christian here extending his views, sees
how terrible it is " to fall into the hands of the
living God."f He adores that Providence
which directs all events, and without whose
permission a hair cannot fall from the head:
he sees in these calamities messengers of the
God " who makes flames of tire his angels, and
winds his ministers.";}; He " hears the rod, and
who hath appointed it."§ Fearing to receive
the same visitations, he " prepares to meet his
God. "|| He " enters his closet, and hides
himself till the indignation be overpast." He
saves himself" before the decree bring forth. "IT
He cries as Israel once cried, " Wherewith
shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself
before the high God?"** Such are the variety
of reflections and of emotions which the calami
ties of Providence excites in an enlightened
mind. Truths which we proceed to develop,
and which we enumerate here solely to demon
strate the stupidity of this first disposition, and
to oppose it by a spirit of recollection and seri
ousness implied in our Saviour's answer, and
which he was wishful to excite in us.

2. We have marked, in the second place, a
spirit of blindness, and our wish to oppose it by
an enlightened and well-informed disposition.
When we speak of those who have a spirit of
blindness, we do not mean men of contracted
minds, who having received it from nature,
are incapable of reflection; men who think
merely to adopt phantoms, and who talk merely
to maintain absurdities. We attack those wit
lings who pique themselves on a superiority,
who, under a pretence of emancipating the mind
from error and prejudice, and of rising above
the vulgar, so immerse themselves in error and
prejudice, as to sink below the vulgar. Persons
who have knowledge indeed; but " professing
themselves to be wise, they became fools;"ff
and are so much the more blind, to speak as
the Scripture, " because they say, we see."J|

* Heb. ii. 14.
§ Mic. vi. 9.
** Mic. vi. 6.

Heb. x. 31. J Heb. i. 7,

Amos iv. 12. IT Zeph. ii,

Rom. i. 22. Jf John ix. 41,

They treat those as weak-headed, whom the
visitations of Heaven prompt to self-examina
tion, who recognise the hand of God, and who
endeavour to penetrate his designs in the afflic
tions of mankind. More occupied with Pilate
than with him whose counsel has determined
the conduct of Pilate; more occupied with poli
tics, and more attentive to nature, than to the
God of nature, they refer all to second causes,
they regard nature and politics as the universal
divinities, and the arbitrators of all events.
This is what we call a spirit of blindness. And
as nothing can be more opposite to the design
of this text, and the object of this discourse,
we ought to attack it with all our power, and
demonstrate another truth supposed by Jesus
Christ in the text, not only that God is the
author of all calamities, but that in sending
them, he correctly determines their end. This
shall appear by a few plain propositions.

Proposition first. Either nature is nothing, or
t is the assemblage of the beings God has cre
ated; either the effects of nature are nothing,
or they are the products and effects of the laws
by which God has arranged, and by which he
governs beings; consequently, whatever we call
natural effects, and the result of second causes,
are the work of God, and the effects of his es
tablished laws. This proposition is indisputa
ble. One must be an Atheist, or an Epicurean,
to revoke it in doubt. For instance, when you
say that an earthquake is a natural effect, and
that it proceeds from a second cause: do you
know that there are under our feet subterra
nean caverns, that those caverns are filled with
combustible matter, that those substances ig
nite by friction,* expand, and overturn what
ever obstructs their passage? Here is a natural
effect; here is a second cause. But I ask; who
has created this earth? Who has formed those
creatures susceptible of ignition? Who has es
tablished the laws of expansive force? You
must here confess, that either God, or chance
is the author. If you say chance, atheism is
then on the throne; Epicurus triumphs; the
fortuitous concourse of atoms is established.
If you say God, our proposition is proved, and
sufficiently so; for those that attack us here, are
not Atheists and Epicureans; hence, in refuting
them, it is quite sufficient to prove, that their
principle tends to the Epicurean and the athe
istical system.

Proposition second. God, in forming his
various works, and in the arrangement of his
laws, knew every possible effect which could
result from them. If you do not admit this
principle, you have no notion of the perfect
Being; an infinity of events might happen in
the world independent of his pleasure; he would
daily learn; he would grow wiser with age; and
become learned by experience! These are prin
ciples which destroy themselves, and combine
by their contradiction to establish our second
proposition, that God, in creating his works,
and in prescribing the laws of motion, was ap
prised of every possible effect.

* This was the received opinion in our author's time;
but modern observations attest that great masses of sul
phureous coals thrown on heaps kindle spontaneously by
the accession of air and rain. So on the falling of the
alum shell of Boulby clifis, the rain and air caused the
mass to ignite. See Sutcliffe's Geological Essays: and

380

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. XCVL

Proposition third. God, foreseeing all those
effects, has approved of them, and determined
each to an appropriate end. It is assortable to
the nature of a wise Being to do nothing but
what is consonant to wisdom, nothing but what
is connected with some design; and to make
this the distinguishing characteristic of the
smallest, as well as of the greatest works. The
wisest of men are unable to follow this law,
because circumscribed in knowledge, their at
tention is confined to a narrow sphere of ob
jects. If a prince, wishful to make his sub
jects happy, should endeavour to enter into all
the minutiae of his kingdom, he could not at
tend to the main design; and his measures
would tend to retard his purpose. But God,
whose mind is infinite, who comprises in the
immense circle of his knowledge an infinity of
ideas without confusion, is directed by his wis
dom to propose the best design in all his works.
Consequently the works of nature which he
has created, and the effects of nature which
he has foreseen, all enter into his eternal coun
sels, and receive their destination. Hence, to
refer events to second causes, not recognising
the designated visitations of Providence by the
plague, by war, and famine; and under a pre
sumption, that these proceed from the general
laws of nature, not perceiving the Author and
Lord of nature, is to have a spirit of blindness.

Moreover, all these arguments, suggested
by sound reason, are established in the clearest
and most indisputable manner in the Scrip
tures, to which all wise men should have re
course to direct their judgment. Does Joseph
arrive in Egypt, after being sold by his bre
thren? It was God that sent him thither, ac
cording to his own testimony, Gen. xlv. 5.
" Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves,
that ye sold me hither, for God did send me
before you to preserve life." Do Kings arrange
their counsels? " Their heart is in the hands
of God: he turneth them as the rivers of wa-
*er," Prov. xxi. 1. Does Assyria afflict Israel?
" He is the rod of God's anger," Isa. x. 5.
Do Herod and Pilate persecute Jesus Christ?
They do that which God had previously " de
termined in counsel," Acts iv. 27. Does a
hair fall from our head? It is not without the
permission of God, Luke xii. 7. If you re
quire particular proof that God has designs in
chastisements, and not only with regard to the
chastised but to those also in whose presence
they are chastised, you have but to remember
the words at the opening of this discourse; " I
have cut off all nations, I have made their tow
ers desolate, and said, .Surely thou shalt receive
instruction;" you have but to recollect the
words of Ezekiel, " As I live, saith the Lord,
surely because thou hast defiled my sanctuary
with thy detestable things, a third part of you
shall die with the pestilence, and another part
of you shall fall by the sword, and a third part
shall be scattered: and thou shalt be a reproach,
and a taunt, and an instruction," Ezek. v.
11 — 15. Pay attention to this word, " an in
struction." My brethren, God has therefore
designs, when he afflicts other men before our
eyes; and designs in regard to us; he proposes
our instruction. Hence his visitations must be
regarded with an enlightened mind.

3. Men regard with a spirit of severity and
of preference, the judgments which God in
flicts on others; but Jesus Christ was wishful to
excite in them a disposition of tenderness and
humiliation; he apprises them, that the most
afflicted are not always the most guilty. So is
the import of these expressions, " Suppose ye
that these Galileans were sinners above all the
Galileans? Suppose ye that those eighteen on
whom the tower of Siloam fell, and killed,
were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jeru
salem? I tell you, nay."

The Jews had much need of this caution.
Many of them regarded all the calamities of
life, as the punishment of some sin committed
by the afflicted. The mortifying comforts of
Job's friends, and all the rash judgments they
formed of his case, were founded upon this
principle: you find likewise some of our Sa
viour's disciples, on seeing a man born blind,
asking this question: " Lord, who did sin, this
man, or his parents, that he was born blind?"
John ix. 2. How could they conceive that a
man, blind from his birth, could have commit
ted a crime to superinduce the calamity? This
corresponds with our assertion: they were per
suaded that all calamities were the result of
some crime; and even in this life, that the
most calamitous were the most culpable; and
they even preferred the supposition of sins
committed in a pre-existent state, to the ideas
of visitations not preceded by crime. They
admitted, for the most part, the doctrine of
metempsychosis, and supposed the punishments
sustained in one body, were the result of sins
committed in other bodies. This sentiment
the Jews of Alexandria had communicated to
their brethren in Judea: but we suppress, on
this head, a long detail of proofs from Philo,
Josephus, and others.* They had also another
notion, that children might have criminal
thoughts while slumbering in the womb. It is
probable that those who, in the text, reported
to Jesus Christ the unhappy end of the Gali
leans, were initiated into this opinion. This is
$e spirit of severity and of preference by
which we regard the calamities of others.
This is what the Lord attacks: " Suppose ye
that those eighteen on whom the tower in Si-
loam fell, were sinners above all that dwelt in
Jerusalem? I tell you, nay: but except ye re
pent ye shall all likewise perish."

This is the most afflicted man in all the
earth; therefore he is more wicked than ano
ther who enjoys a thousand comforts. What
a pitiful argument!

To reason in this way is to " limit the Holy
One of Israel," Ps. Ixxviii. 41; and not to re
cognise the diversity of designs an infinite In
telligence may propose in the visitations of
mankind. Sometimes he is wishful to prove
them: "Now I know that thou lovest me,
seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son," Gen. xxii. 12. Sometimes he de
signs to be glorified by their deliverance. Thus
the opening of the eyes of the man born blind
was designated, to make manifest "the works
of God;" and the sickness of Lazarus was " to
glorify the Son of God." Sometimes he pro-

* Philo on the Giants; and on Dreams; Joseph. War*
of the Jews, book ii. cap. 12.

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THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE.

381

poses to make their faith conspicuous; this was
the end of Job's affliction.

To reason in this way, is to revolt against
experience, and to prefer the worst of sinners
to the best of saints. Herod who is on the
throne, to Jesus Christ who is driven to exile;
Nero who sways the world, to St. Paul who is
reckoned " the filth and offscouring of the
earth."

To reason in this way, is to disallow the tur
pitude of crime. If God sometimes defer to
punish it on earth, it is because the punish
ments of this life are inadequate to the enor
mity of sin.

To reason in this way, is to be inattentive
to the final judgment which God is preparing.
If this life were eternal; if this were our prin
cipal period of existence, the argument would
have some colour. But if there be a life after
death; if this be but a shadow which vanishes
away; if there be a precise time when virtue
shall be recompensed, and vice punished,
which we cannot dispute without subverting
the principles of religion, and of reason, then
this conjecture is unfounded.

To reason in this way, is to be ignorant of
the value of afflictions. They are one of the
most fertile sources of virtue, and the most
successful means of inducing us to comply
with the design of the gospel. If the calami
ties which mortals suffer in this life were al
lowed to form a prejudice, it should rather be
in favour of God's love, than of his anger: and
instead of saying, this man being afflicted, he
is consequently more guilty than he who is not
afflicted, we should rather say, this man hav
ing no affliction, is, in fact, a greater sinner
than the other who is afflicted.

In general, there are few wicked men to
whom the best of saints, in a comparative view,
have the right of preference. In the life of
a criminal, you know at most but a certain
number of his crimes; but you see an infinite
number in your own. Comparing yourselves
with an assassin about to be broken on the
wheel, you would no doubt find a preference
in this point. But extend your thoughts; re
view the history of your life; investigate your
heart; examine those vain thoughts, those irre
gular desires, those secret practices, of which
God alone is witness; and then judge of vice
and virtue, not by the notions that men form
of them, but by the portrait exhibited in God's
law; consider that anger, envy, pride and
calumny, carried to a certain degree, are more
odious in the eyes of God, than those noto
rious crimes punished by human justice; and
on investigating the life of a criminal, you will
be obliged to confess that there is nothing
more revolting than what is found in your own.

Besides, a good man is so impressed with his
own faults, that the sentiment extenuates in
his estimation the defects of others. This was
the sentiment of St. Paul: " I am the chief of
sinners; but I obtained mercy." This was his
injunction; " In lowliness of mind, let each
esteem another better than himself," Phil. ii. 5;
1 Tim. i. 13. But is this avowal founded on
fact? Is the maxim practicable? It is, my
brethren, in the sense we have just laid down.
But the Jews, whom our Saviour addressed,
had no need of those solutions: their lives real

ized his assertions; and would to God that ours,
compared with the multitude of victims which
this day cover the earth, might not suggest the
same reflection? " Suppose ye that these Gali
leans were sinners above all the Galileans?
Suppose ye that those eighteen were sinners
above all the men that dwelt in Jerusalem?"
Do you suppose that those whose dead bodies
are now strewed over Europe? Do you sup
pose that the people assailed with famine, and
those exempt from famine, but menaced with
the plague and pestilence, are greater sinners
than the rest of the world? " I tell you, nay."

IV. Lastly: mankind regard the judgments
which God obviously inflicts on others with an
obdurate disposition; but Jesus Christ is wish
ful to reclaim them by a spirit of reformation
and repentance. This is the design of his in
ference, which is twice repeated; " Except ye
repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

One of the designs God proposed in permit
ting the cruelty of Pilate to those Galileans,
and the fall of the tower of Siloam on eigh
teen of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, was to
give others an idea of the punishment which
awaited themselves, in case they should persist
in sin, and thereby of exciting them to repent
ance. He has now the same designs in regard
to us, while afflicting Europe before our eyes.

That this was his design with regard to the
Jews, we have a proof beyond all exception,
and that proof is experience. The sentence
pronounced against that unhappy nation; " Ex
cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish,"
was literally executed, and in detail. Yes,
literally did the Jewish nation perish as the
Galileans, whose blood Piiate mingled with
their sacrifices, and as the others on whom the
tower of Siloam fell.

Read what happened under Archelaus, on
the day of the passover. The people were as
sembled from all parts, and thought of nothing
but of offering their sacrifices. Archelaus sur
rounded Jerusalem, placed his cavalry without
the city, caused his infantry to enter, and to
defile the temple with the blood of three thou
sand persons.*

Read the sanguinary conduct of those cruel
assassins, who in open day, and during their
most solemn festival in particular, caused the
effects of their fury to be felt, and mingled hu
man gore with that of the animals slain in the
temple.

Read the furious battle fought by the zeal
ots in the same temple, where without fear of
defiling the sanctity of religion, to use the ex
pression of the Jewish historian, "they defiled
the sacred place with their impure blood. "f

Read the pathetic description of the same
historian concerning the factions who held
their sittings in the temple. " Their revenge,"
he says, " extended to the altar; they massa
cred the priests with those that offered sacri
fices. Men who came from the extremities of
the earth to worship God in his holy place, fell
down slain with their victims, and sprinkled
their blood on the altar, revered, not only by
the Greeks, but by the most barbarous nations.
The blood was seen to flow as rivers; and the

* Joseph. Antiq. lib. xvii. cap. 11.

| Joseph. Wars of the Jews, book iv. chap. 14.

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[SER. XCVI.

dead bodies, not only of natives, but of stran
gers, filled this holy place."*

Read the whole history of that siege, ren
dered for ever memorable by the multitude of
its calamities. See Jerusalem swimming with
blood, and entombed in its own ashes. Mark
how it was besieged, precisely at the time of
their most solemn festival, when the Jews were
assembled from all parts of the world to cele
brate their passover. See how the blood of
eleven hundred thousand persons was mingled
with their sacrifices, and justified the expres
sion in the text, " Suppose ye that these Gali
leans were more culpable? I tell you, nay; but
except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
See how the walls of Jerusalem, in the same
siege, sapped by the Roman ram, and by
a thousand engines of war, fell down and bu
ried the citizens in their ruins, literally accom
plishing this other part of the prophecy; " Sup
pose ye, that those eighteen on whom the tow
er of Siloam fell, were sinners above all that
dwelt in Jerusalem; I tell you, nay; but except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

God has the same designs in regard to us,
while afflicting Europe before our eyes. This
is the point at which we must now stop. We
must leave the Jews, from whom the means
of conversion were ultimately removed, to pro
fit by their awful example; and especially, from
the consideration of their impenitency, to derive
the most serious motives for our own conversion.
CONCLUSION.

There is then so perfect a conformity be
tween us, my brethren, and those who came
to report to Jesus Christ the calamity of the
poor Galileans, that one must be wilfully blind
not to perceive it. 1. The Jews had just seen
examples of the divine vengeance, and we also
have lately seen them. 2. The Jews had been
spared, and we also are spared. 3. The Jews
were likewise as great offenders as those
that had fallen under the strokes of God;
and we are as great offenders as those that
now suffer before our eyes. 4. The Jews
were taught by Jesus Christ what disposition*,
of mind they should in future assume; and we
are equally instructed. 5. Those Jews har
dened their hearts against his warning, and
were ultimately destroyed; (O God, avert this
awful augur!) we harden our hearts in like
manner, and we shall experience the same lot,
if we continue in the same state.

1. We ourselves, like the Jews who were
present at that bloody scene, have seen exam
ples of the divine vengeance. Europe is now
an instructive theatre, and bespangled with
tragic scenes. The destroying angel, armed
with the awful sword of celestial vengeance,
goes forth on our right hand, and on our left,
distinguishing his route by carnage and horror.
" The sword of the Lord intoxicated with
blood," Jer. xlvii. 6, refuses to return to its
scabbard, and seems wishful to make the whole
earth a vast sepulchre. Our Europe has often
been visited with severe strokes; but I know
not whether history records a period in which
they were so severe, and so general. God
once proposed to David a terrible choice of
pestilence, of war, or of famine. The best was

* Joseph. Wars of the Jews, book v.

awful. But now God does not propose; he in
flicts them. He does not propose any one of
three; he inflicts the whole at once. On what
side can you cast your regards, and not be pre
sented with the like objects? To what voice
can you hearken which does not say, " Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish?" Hear
the people whose unhappy countries have for
many years become the theatre of war; who
hear of nothing " but wars and rumours of
wars," who see their harvest cut down before
it is ripe, and the hopes of the year dissipated
in a moment. These are instructive exam
ples; these are loud calls, which say, " Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Hear
those people over whose heads the heavens are
as brass, and under whose feet the earth is
as iron, who are consumed by scarcity and
drought: these are instructive examples; these
are loud calls which say, " except ye repent,
ye shall all likewise perish." Hear those peo
ple among whom death enters with the air
they breathe, who see fall down before their
eyes, here an infant, and there a husband, and
who expect every moment to follow them.
These are awful examples; these are loud
calls, which say, " Except ye repent, ye shall
all likewise perish." Thus our first parallel is
correct; we, like the Jews, have seen examples
of the divine vengeance.

2. We, like the Jews, are still spared; and
whatever part we may have hitherto had in
the calamities of Europe, thank God, we have
not fallen. " He has covered us with his fea
thers, and given us refuge under his wings."
We have not been struck with " terror by
night," nor with "the arrow that flieth by
day," nor with " the pestilence that walketh in
darkness," nor, " with the destruction that
wasteth at noon-day. A thousand have fallen
at our side, and ten thousand on our right
hand; but the destruction has not come nigh
to us," Ps. xci. 4 — 7. Our days of mourning
and of fasting have ever been alleviated with
joy; and this discourse which recalls so many
gloomy thoughts, excites recollections of com
fort. The prayers addressed to Heaven for so
many unhappy mortals precipitated to peril,
are enlivened with the voice of praise, inas
much as we are still exempt from the scourge.
We weep between the porch and the altar,
with joy and with grief at the same instant;
with grief, from a conviction that our sins
have excited the anger of God against Europe;
with joy because his fury has not as yet ex
tended to us; and if we say, with a contrite
heart, " O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto
thee; but unto us confusion of face: O Lord,
enter not into judgment with thy servants: O
Lord, pardon the iniquity of thy people," we
shall make these walls resound with our
thanksgiving. We shall say with Hezekiah,
" A great bitterness is come upon me, but thou
hast in love to my soul delivered it from the
pit of corruption." We shall say, with the
prophet Jonah, " Thy billows and thy waves
have passed over me; then I said I am cast out
of thy sight; yet I will look again towards thy
holy temple; and with Jeremiah, " It is of the
Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, ana
because bis compassions fail not: they are new
every morning." Our second parallel is there-

SER. XCVL]

THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE.

383

fore correct; we like the Jews, are still spared.
Dan. ix. 7; Joel ii. 17; Isa. xxxviii. 17; Jonah
ii. 3; Lam. iii. 22, 23.

3. Like the Jews, we are not less guilty
than those who fall before our eyes under the
judgments of God. What a revolting propo
sition, you will say? What! the men whose
hands were so often dipped in the most inno
cent blood, the men who used their utmost ef
forts to extinguish the lamp of truth, the men
who are rendered for ever infamous by the
death of so many martyrs, are they to be com
pared to us? Can we say of their calamities,
what the Lord said to the Jews concerning
the calamities named in the text, " Think ye
that these Galileans were sinners above all
Galileans? Think ye that those eighteen on
whom the tower in Siloam fell, were sinners
above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? 1 tell you,
nay." We would wish you, my brethren, to
have as much patience in attending to the pa
rallel, as we have had ground for drawing it.
Who then, in your opinion, is the greater sin
ner, he who opposes a religion he believes to
be bad, or he who gives himself no sort of
concern to cherish and extend a religion he
believes to be good? He, who for the sake of
his religion sacrifices the goods, the liberty, and
the lives of those that oppose it, or he who sa
crifices his religion to human hopes, to a sordid
interest, and to a prudence purely worldly?
He who enters with a lever and a hatchet into
houses he believes profane, or he who feels but
languor and indifference when called upon to
revive the ashes he accounts holy, and to raise
the foundations he believes sacred? A glance
on the third parallel is, I presume, sufficient to
induce you to acknowledge its propriety.

Amid so many dissipations, and this is the
fourth point of similarity, Jesus Christ still
teaches us the same lessons he once taught the
Jews. He renders us attentive to Providence.
He proves that we are concerned in those
events. He opens our eyes to the war, the
pestilence, and famine, by which we are me
naced. He exhibits the example of the multi
tude who fall under those calamities. He says,
" surely thou shalt receive instruction." He
avers that the same lot awaits us. He speaks,
he presses, he urges. " He hews us by his
prophets, and slays us by his word," to use an
expression of Hosea, vi. 5. To all these traits,
our situation perfectly coincides. What then
can obstruct our application of the latter, " Ex
cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

And shall events so bloody leave no impres
sion on your mind? "Ye shall all likewise
perish?" What would your situation be, if
this prophecy were about to be accomplished?
If our lot were about to be like that of the
Galileans? If on a fast-day, a sacramental
day, a day in which our people hold an extra
ordinary assembly, a cruel and ferocious sol
diery, with rage in their hearts, with fury in
their eyes, and murderous weapons in their
hands, should rush and confound our devotion
with carnage, sacrificing the father before the
eyes of the son, and the son before the eyes of
the father, and make this church swim with
the blood of the worshippers? What would
your situation be, if the foundations of this
church were about to be shook under our feet,

if these walls which surround us were about
to fall, and to make us like the eighteen on
whom the tower in Siloam fell? And what would
« our situation be, if the curses on those ancient
'; people, and which are this day accomplished
in so many parts of Europe, should fall upon
us? " The Lord shall make the pestilence
cleave unto thee, until he consume thee from
off the land. The heaven that is over thy
head shall be brass, and the earth that is under
thee shall be iron. The Lord shall cause thee
to be smitten before thine enemies. And be
cause thou servedst not the Lord thy God with
joyfulness and with gladness of heart, thou
shalt serve in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness,
and in want, an enemy which shall put a yoke
upon thy neck, until he have destroyed thee.
And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body,
the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters
which the Lord thy God shall give thee,"
Deut. xxviii. 21. 23. 25. 47, 48. 53.

My brethren, let us not contend with God,
let us not arm ourselves with an infatuated
fortitude. Instead of braving the justice of
God, let us endeavour to appease it, by a
speedy recourse to his mercy, and by a genuine
change of conduct.

This is the duty imposed on this nation; this
is the work of all the faithful assembled here.
But permit me to say it, with all the respect
of a subject who addresses his masters, and, at
the same time, with all the frankness of a mi
nister of the gospel who addresses the subjects
of the King of kings, this is peculiarly your
work, high and mighty lords of these provinces,
fathers of this people. In vain do you adopt
the measures of prudence to avert the calami
ties with which we are threatened, unless you
endeavour to purge the city of God of the
crimes which attract them. The languishing
church extends to you her arms. The minis
try, rendered useless by the profligacy of the
age, has need of your influence to maintain it
self, and to be exercised with success; to put a
period to the horrible profanation of the sab
bath, which has so long and so justly become
our reproach; to suppress those scandalous
publications which are ushered with insolence,
and by which are erected before your eyes,
with impunity, a system of atheism and irreli-
gion; to punish the blasphemers; and thus to
revive the enlightened laws of Constantino and
Theodosius.

If in this manner, we shall correspond with
the designs of God in the present chastise
ments of men, he will continue to protect and
defend us. He will dissipate the tempests
ready to burst on our heads. He will confirm
to us the truth of that promise he once made
to the Jews by the ministry of Jeremiah; " At
what instant 1 shall speak concerning a nation
— to pull down and to destroy it — If that na
tion turn from their evil, I will repent of the
evil I thought to do unto them," xviii. 7, 8.
In a word, after having rendered our own life
happy, and society tranquil, he will exalt us
above all clouds and tempests, to those happier
regions, where there shall be "no more sor
row, nor crying, nor pain;" and where " all
tears shall be for ever wiped from our eyes."
Rev. vii. 17; xxi. 4. God grant us the grace:
to whom be honour and glory for ever. Amen.

384

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

[SER. XCVII.

SERMON XCVII.

A TASTE

DEVOTION.

PSALM Ixiii. 5, 6.
My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fat

ness, and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful

lips: when 1 remember thee upon my bed, and

meditate upon thee in the night-watches.

IT is a felicity to be acquainted with the ar
guments which 'forcibly attach us to religion.
It is a great advantage to be able to arrange,
with conclusive propriety, the arguments which
render virtue preferable to vice. It is a high
favour to be able to proceed from principle to
principle, and from consequence to consequence,
so as to say in one's own breast, with a conscious
mind of the excellence of piety, I am persuaded
that a good man is happy.

But how sublime soever this way of soaring
to God may be, it is not always sufficient. Ar
guments may indeed impose silence on the pas
sions; but they are not always sufficiently co
gent to eradicate them. However conclusive
demonstrations may be in a book, in a school,
in the closet, they appear extremely weak, and
of very inadequate force, when opposed to sen
timents of anguish, or to the attractions of plea
sure. The arguments adduced to suffer for re
ligion, lose much of their efficacy, not to say of
their evidence, when proposed to a man about
to be broken alive on the wheel, or consumed
on a pile. The arguments for resisting the flesh;
for rising superior to matter and sense, vanish,
for the most part, on viewing the objects of con
cupiscence. How worthy then is that man of
pity who knows no way of approaching God,
but that of discussion and argument!

There is one way of leading us to God much
more safe; and of inducing to abide in fellowship
with him, whenever it is embraced; that is, the
way of taste and of sentiment. Happy the man,
who, in the conflicts to which he is exposed from
the enemy of his soul, can oppose pleasure to
pleasure, and joy to joy; the pleasures of piety
and of converse with Heaven to the pleasure of
the world; the delights of recollection and soli
tude to those of brilliant circles, of dissipations,
and of theatres! Such a man is firm in his duty,
because he is a man; and because it depends not
on man to refuse affection to what opens to his
soul the fountains of life. Such a man is at
tached to religion by the same motives which
attach the world to the objects of their passions,
which afford them exquisite delight. Such a
man has support in the time of temptation, be
cause " the peace of God which passeth all un
derstanding, keeps," so to speak, the propensi
ties of his heart, and the divine comforts which
inundate his soul, obstructs his being drawn
away to sin.

Let us attend to-day to a great master in the
science of salvation. It is our prophet. He
knew the argumentative way of coming to God.
" Thy word," said he to himself, " is a lamp
unto "my feet, and a lantern to my paths," Ps.
cxix. 105. But he knew also the way of taste
and of sentiment. He said to God in the words
of my text, not only that he was persuaded and

convinced; but that religion charmed, ravished,
and absorbed his soul by its comforts. " My
soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fat
ness, and my soul shall praise thee with joyful
lips; when I remember thee upon my bed, and
meditate upon thee in the night-watches." — In
discussing the subject,

I. We shall trace the emotions of our pro
phet, and to give you the ideas, if it be possible
to give them, of what we understand by the
piety of taste and sentiment.

II. We shall consider the words with regard
to the humiliation they reflect on the most part
of Christians; ajid inquire into the judgment
we ought to form of our own state, when des
titute of the piety of sentiment and taste, so
consoling to a regenerate soul.

III. We shall investigate the cause of this
calamity.

IV. We shall propose some maxims for the
acquisition of this piety, the want of which is
so deplorable; and to enable you to say with
David, "My soul shall be satisfied as with
marrow and fatness, and my soul shall praise
thee with joyful lips, when I remember thee
upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the
night-watches."

I. We must define what we understand by
the piety of taste and sentiment. Wishful to
compress the subject, we shall not oppose pro
fanation to eminent piety, nor apparent piety
to that which is genuine. We shall oppose re
ality to reality; true piety to true piety; and the
religion of the heart to that which is rational
and argumentative. A few examples, derived
from human life, will illustrate this article of
religion.

Suppose two pupils of a philosopher, both
emulous to make a proficiency in science; both
attentive to the maxims of their master; both
surmounting the greatest difficulties to retain a
permanent impression of what they hear. But
the one finds study a fatigue like the man tot
tering under a burden: to him study is a severe
and arduous task: he hears because he is obliged
to hear what is dictated. The other, on the
contrary, enters into the spirit of study; its
pains are compensated by its pleasures: he loves
truth for the sake of truth; and not for the sake
of the encomiums conferred on literary charac
ters, and the preceptors of science.

Take another example. The case of two
warriors, both loyal to their sovereign; both
alert and vigilant in military discipline, which,
of all others, requires the greatest vigilance and
precision; both ready to sacrifice life when duty
shall so require; but the one groans under the
heavy fatigues he endures, and sighs for repose:
bis imagination is struck with the danger to
which he is exposed by his honour: he braves
dangers, because he is obliged to brave them,
and because God will require an account of
the public safety of those who may have had
the baseness to sacrifice it to personal preserva
tion: yet amid triumphs he envies the lot of
the cottager, who having held the plough by
day, finds the rewards at night of domestic re
pose. The other, on the contrary, is born with
an insatiable thirst of glory, to which nothing
can be arduous: he has by nature, that noble
courage, shall I call it, or that happy temerity;
that amid the greatest danger, he sees no dan-

SER. XCVIL]

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

385

ger; victory is ever before his eyes; and every
etep that leads to conquest is regarded as a vic
tory already obtained.

These examples are more than sufficient to
confirm your ideas, and make you perceive the
vast distinction we make between a speculative
and an experimental piety, and to enable you
in some sort to trace the sentiments of our pro
phet, " My soul shall be satisfied as with mar
row and fatness, and my soul shall praise thee
with joyful lips; when I remember thee upon
my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night-
watches." He who has a rational and a spe
culative piety, and he who has a piety of taste
and sentiment, are both sincere in their efforts;
both devoted to their duty; both pure in pur
pose; both in some sort pleasing to God; and
both alike engaged in studying his precepts,
and in reducing them to practice; but O, how
different is their state!

The one prays because he is awed by his
wants, and because prayer is the resource of
the wretched. The other prays because the
exercise of prayer transports him to another
world; because it vanishes the objects which
obstruct his divine reflections; and because it
strengthens those ties which unite him to that
God, whose love constitutes all his consolation,
and all his treasure.

The one reads the word of God because his
heart would reproach him for neglecting a duty
so strongly enjoined, and because without the
Bible he would be embarrassed at every step.
The other reads because his heart burns when
ever the Scriptures are opened; and because
this word composes his mind, assuages his an
guish, and beguiles his care.

The one gives alms, because the doors of
heaven shall be shut against the unpitiable; be
cause without alms there is no religion; because
Jesus Christ shall one day say to those who
have been insensible to the wants of others,
" Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, for I was
hungry, and ye gave me no meat;" and be
cause the rust of the gold and silver of " the
covetous shall be a witness against them, and
shall eat their flesh as a fire," Matt. xxv. 41;
James v. 3. The other gives because there is
a kind of instinct and mechanical impulse, if
you will excuse the phrase, which excite in his
breast the most delicious sensations in the dis
tribution of alms: he gives because his soul is
formed on the model of that God, whose cha
racter is love, " who left not himself without
witness, in that he did good," and whose hap
piness consists in the power of imparting that
felicity to others.

The one approaches the Lord's table, because
the supreme wisdom has enjoined it; he sub
dues his passions because the sacrifice is requir
ed; in resuming his heart from the objects of
vice, he seems to abscind his own flesh; it
would seem requisite always to repeat in his
ears this text, " He that eateth this bread, and
drinketh this cup unworthily, eateth and drink-
eth his own condemnation." The other comes
to the Lord's table as to a feast; he brings a
heart hungering and thirsting for righteousness;
he inwardly hears the gentle voice of God, say
ing, " Seek ye my face:" he replies, " Thy
face, Lord, I will seek. As the hart panteth
after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after
VOL. II.— 49

thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, yea,
for the living God," Ps. xxvii. 8; xlii. 1. The
delicious sentiments he finds in the communion
of Jesus Christ, prompts him to forget all the
sacrifices he has made for a participation
therein.

In a word, not to multiply cases, the one
dies because he must die: he yields to that ir
revocable sentence, " Return, ye children of
men,"* Ps. xc. 3. Submission, resignation, and
patience, are the pillars which sustain him in
his agony. The other, on the contrary, meets
death as one who would go to a triumph. He
anticipates the happy moment with aspirations,
which shall give flight to his soul; he cries, he
incessantly cries, " Come Lord Jesus, come
quickly." Patience, resignation, submission,
seem to him virtues out of season: he exercised
them while condemned to live; not when he is
called to die. Henceforth his soul abandons it
self wholly to joy, to gratitude, and to trans
ports.

II. Let us inquire in the second article what
judgment we should pass upon ourselves when
destitute of the heartfelt piety we have just
described.

There are few subjects in the code of holi
ness, which require greater precision, and in
which we should be more cautious to avoid vi
sionary notions. Some persons regard piety
of taste and sentiment so essential to salvation,
as to reprobate all those who, as yet, have not
attained it. Certain passages of Scripture mis
construed serve as the basis of this opinion.
Because the Spirit of God sheds a profusion of
consolations on the souls of some believers, it
would seem that he must shed it on all. They
presume that a Christian must judge of the
state of his mind less by the uprightness of his
heart, and the purity of his motives, than by
the enjoyments, or the privation of certain spi
ritual comforts. A man shall powerfully wres
tle with his passions, be always at war with
himself, and make to God the severest sacri
fices, yet if we do not feel certain transports,
he must be regarded as a reprobate. A man,
on the contrary, who shall be less attentive to
the conditions of salvation, and less severe to
wards himself, must, according to the casuists
I attack, banish all sorts of doubt and scruple
of his salvation, provided he attain to certain
transports of ecstacy and joy.

Whatever basis or solidity there may be in
one part of the principles which constitute the
foundation of this system, there are few that
are more dangerous. It often gives occasion to
certain ebullitions of passion, of which we have
too many examples. It is much easier to warm
the imagination than to reform the heart.
How often have we seen persons who thought
themselves superior to all our instructions, be
cause they flattered themselves with having the
Spirit of God for a guide, which inwardly as
sured them of their pardon and eternal salva
tion? How often have we seen persons of this
description take offence because we doubted of
what they presumed was already decided in

What critic besides our author gives this turn to
these words of Moses! Their glosses are, either return
by repentance, or, " Come again as the grass after the
scythe, and re-people the earth, after being desolated a
thousand years before the flood." J. S.

886

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

[SEE. XCVII.

their bieast, by a divjne influence and super
natural voice? How often have we seen them
reject with high disdain and revolt, strictures
of which they were but too worthy? Let us
not give place to enthusiasm. Let us ever pre
serve our judgment. The Spirit of God guides
indeed, but he does not blind. I prefer a hu
mility destitute of transports, to transports des
titute of humility. The piety of taste and sen
timent is certainly the privilege of some rege
nerate people: it is indeed a disposition of mind
to which all the regenerate should aspire; but
we must not exclude those that are weak from
regeneration.*

But if there is danger of striking on the first
rock, there is some danger of striking on the
second. Under a plea that one may be saved
without the conscious comforts we have de
scribed, shall we give ourselves no inquietude
about acquiring them? Shall we give our heart,
and our warmest affections to the world; and
offer to God but an exhausted, a constrained
and reluctant obedience? Let us inquire in
what case, and what respects we may console
ourselves when deprived of conscious comfort;
and in what case, and what respects, we ought
to mourn when deprived of those divine favours.

1. Abstract and spiritual objects seldom
make so deep an impression on the rnind as
those which are sensible. This is not always

* Saurin, in twenty places of his sermons, attacks a
class of opponents whom he calls casuists, or guides and
directors of the soul. These were the supralapsarians.
That class of men, I have little doubt, were very clear in
the doctrine of the Spirit. And Saurin is not only clear,
but sublimely so, as will appear from this sermon. But
he errs in too much restricting it to the more highly fa
voured class of saints. Perhaps this arose from early pre
judice; perhaps from want of seeing the work of conver
sion on an extended scale; perhaps the opposition he re
ceived urged his replies beyond the feelings of his heart,
and so far as to drive him to apparent contradictions of
himself. We must never console the well disposed with
the doctrine of unconscious salvation, but urge them to
seek it, as the Scriptures do, and as our author fully docs
in the latter part of this discourse. The exceptions are
in favour of men of a nervous and dejected mind, who
mostly die more happily than they live. Wow, I would ask,
is a man to attain the whole Christian temper without
the influences of the Spirit? Can the harvest and the fruits*
ripen without the solar influence? Can we be satisfied with
our imperfect marks of conversion till assured that we
consciously love God from a reaction of his love shed
abroad in our heart? Rom. v. 5. Did not the primitive
Churches walk in the comforts of the Holy Ghost? Acts
ix. 31. And is there any intimation that the witness — the
seal — the unction— and the appa/Sov or earnests and com
forts of the Holy Spirit were confined to Christians of the
first age? How are we to attain the Divine image without
a Divine and conscious influence? And if God testify his
frowns against all crimes by secret terrors of conscience,
•why may he not testify his approbation of the penitent,
•when he believes with the heart unto righteousness?
Why should the most gracious of all beings keep us
through the fear of death all our lives subject to bondage?
Is heaven a feast of which only a few favoured ones can
have a foretaste? Are there no consolations in Christ
Jesus, exclusive of a future hope, to which our infirmities
afford but a very defective title? Hence, I cannot but la
ment the ignorance, or bewail the error of ministers, who
ridicule the doctrine of the Spirit. Assurance, comfort,
and the witness of adoption, are subjects of prayer rather
than of dispute. This part of religion, according to Bi
shop Bull, is better understood by the heart than by the
head. The reader who would wish to be adequately ac
quainted with the doctrine of the Spirit, may consult St.
Ambrose, St. Augustine, and Macarius. In our own
tongue, Bishop Bull's sermons; the sermon of Bishop
Smallridge, and Dr. Conant on the comforter; Mr. Joseph
Mede and Dr. Cudworth on 1 John ii. 3; Dr. Owen on
the Spirit: Dr. Watts' three sermons, and Mr. Wesley's
sermon on the witness of the Spirit; the collect for the
sixth Sunday after Trinity.

an effect of our depravity, but a consequence
of our infirmity. A man may be able to pay a
better supported attention to an exhibition than
to a course of holy meditation; not that he
loves an exhibition more than holy meditation,
but because the one devolves on abstract and
spiritual truths, while the other presents him
with spiritual objects. You feel no wandering
thoughts in presence of an earthly monarch
who holds your life and fortune in his hands;
but a thousand distractions assail you in con
verse with the God, who can make you eter
nally happy, or eternally miserable. This is
not because more exalted ideas of God's power
than of the monarch's are denied; it is because
in God's power the object is abstract, but in
the monarch's, the object is sensible; it is be
cause the impression of sensible objects is
stronger than those which are abstract. This,
perhaps, induced St. John to say, " If a man
love not his brother whom he hath seen, how
can he love God whom he hath not seen?"
This argument in appearance is defective. —
Does it follow, that because I love not my bro
ther, whom I see, being full of imperfections,
that I do not love God, who, though unseen, is
an all-perfect being? This is not the apostle's
argument. He means, that the dispositions of
the soul are moved by sensible, rather than by
abstract and spiritual objects. If we possessed
that source of tenderness, which prompts the
heart to love God, our tenderness would be
moved at the sight of a man m distress, and
we should be instantly led to succour him. If
the sight of an afflicted man; if this sensible
object make no impression upon us, the Divine
perfections which are spiritual and abstract ob
jects, will leave us lukewarm and unanimated.
Let each of us, rny brethren, apply this remark
to the subject in hand. We sometimes want a
taste and inclination for devotion; this is be
cause the objects of piety are abstract and spi
ritual, and make a less impression on the mind,
than the objects of sense. This is not always
an effect of our corruption; it is sometimes a
consequence of natural frailty.

2. The piety of preference and of sacrifice
has a peculiar excellence, and may sometimes
afford encouraging marks of salvation, though
unaccompanied with the piety of sentiment
and taste. You do not find the same vivacity
in prayer that you once found in public diver
sions, but you prefer prayer to those diver
sions, and you sacrifice them for the sake of
prayer. You do not find the same pleasure in
reading books of piety you felt in reading pro
fane books, but you sacrifice profane reading
for books of devotion. You have not the same
pleasure in the contemplation of death as in
the prospects of life, but on being called on to
die, you prefer death both to health and life.
You uniformly surrender your health and your
life to the pleasure of Heaven on being called
to the crisis. You would not ransom, by the
slightest violation of the divine law, this life
and health, how dear soever they may be to
you. Console yourselves, therefore, with the
testimony of a good conscience. Be assured
that you are sincere in the sight of God; and
that while aspiring at perfection, your sincerity
shall be a substitute for perfection.

3. The holy Scriptures abound with passages

SER. XCVIL]

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

387

which promise salvation to those who use en
deavours; to those " who take up the cross;" to
those " who deny themselves;" to those " who
crucify the flesh with its lusts;" to those " who
strive, or agonize to enter in at the strait gate,"
Matt. xvi. 24; vii. 13; Gal. v. 24. But the
Scriptures no where exclude from salvation
those who do not find in the exercise of piety,
the joy, the transports, and the delights of
which we have spoken.

4. Experience sometimes discovers to us cha
racters whose whole life has been a continual
exercise of piety and devotion; characters who
have forsaken all for Christ, and who have not
as yet attained to the blessed state after which
they breathe, and continually aspire.

5. The greatest of saints, and those whom
the Scriptures set before us as models, and
those even who have known the highest de
lights of piety, have not always been in this
happy state. We have seen them, not only
after great falls, but under certain conflicts, de
prived of those sweet regards which had once
shed such abundant joy into their soul. One
may, therefore, be in a state of grace without
a full experience of the consolations of grace.

6. In short, the hope of one day finding the
piety of taste and sentiment should assuage the
anguish which the privation excites in the soul.
God often confers piety of taste and sentiment
as a recompense for the piety of sacrifice and
preference. We have no need to go and seek
those comforts in the miraculous lives, whose
memory is preserved by the Holy Ghost, nor
in the supernatural endowments conferred on
others. If you except certain miracles which
God once performed for the confirmation of re
ligion, and religion being established, they are
now no longer necessary; God still holds the
same conduct with regard to his saints which
he formerly held. We have seen saints who
have long, and with ineffectual sighs, breathed
after the comforts of the Holy Ghost; and who,
in the issue, have experienced all their sweet
ness. We have seen the sick, who having been
alarmed at the idea of dying, who having sigh
ed at the simple idea of its pains, its anguish,
its separation, its obscurity, and all the appall
ing presages excited by the king of terrors: we
have seen them, previous to his approach, quite
inundated with consolation and joy. I know
we must always suspect the reveries of the ima
gination, but it seems to us, that the more
calm we were in our investigation, precaution,
and even distrust, in the scrutiny of this phe
nomenon, the more we were convinced it ought
to be wholly ascribed to the Spirit of God.
Those transformations were not the effect of
any novel effort we had caused to be excited in
the souls of the sick. They sometimes follow
ed a profound stupor, a total lethargy, which
could not be the effect of any pleasure arising
from some new sacrifice made for God, or from
some recent victory over themselves. The
sick, of whom we speak, seem to have pre
viously cherished all imaginable deference for
our ministry. Nothing human, nothing ter
restrial was apparent in those surprising trans
formations. It was the work of God. Let us
ask that we may receive. If he do not answer
the first time we pray, he answers the second:
if he do not open the door of mercy the second

time we knock, he opens the third. Suffer not
thyself then, O my soul, to be depressed and
discouraged, because thou dost not yet partici
pate in the piety of taste and sentiment. Be
determined to pierce the cloud with which God
conceals himself from thy sight. Though he
say to thee as to Jacob, " Let me go for the
day dawneth," answer like the patriarch,
"JLord, I will not let thee go, except thou bless
irR?." Though he affect to leave thee, as he
feigned to leave the two disciples, constrain
him as they did; and say with them, "Lord
stay with me; it is toward evening: the sun is
on the decline," Gen. xxxii. 26; Luke xxiv. 29.
These ars the principal sources of consola
tion to those who have a sincere and vehement
desire to please God, and who have not yet at
tained the piety of taste and sentiment. But
though the privation of those comforts should
not dispirit us, yet the defect is ever a most
humiliating and deplorable consideration. So
you may conclude from what you have just
heard. Yes, it is very humiliating and deplo
rable, though we should even prefer our duty
to our pleasure, when those duties abound with
difficulties, and afford no consolations; and
when we are merely enabled to repel attacks
from the pleasures of the age with reason and
argument, which persuade, it is true, but they
stop in the tender part of the soul, if I may so
speak, and neither warm the imagination nor
captivate the heart. Yes, it is very humiliat
ing and deplorable to know by description only,
that " peace of God; that joy unspeakable and
full of glory; that white stone; that satisfac
tion; that seal of redemption;" and those ever-
ravishing pleasures, of which our Scriptures
give us so grand a view. Yes, it is very hu
miliating and deplorable that we should resem
ble the Scripture characters, only in the drought
and languor they sometimes felt, and always
aspiring after a happier frame which we never
attain.

Farther still: the privation of divine com
fort should not only humble us, but there are
occasions in which it should induce us to pass
severe strictures on our destiny. There are
especially two such cases of this nature.

1. When the privation is general; when a
conviction of duty, and the motives of hope
and fear, are ever requisite to enforce the exer
cises of religion; when we have to force our
selves to read God's word, to pray, to study
his perfections, and to participate of the pledges
of his love in the holy sacrament. It is not
very likely that a regenerate soul should be
always abandoned to the difficulties and duties
imposed by religion, that it should never ex
perience those comforts conferred by the Holy
Spirit, which make them a delight.

2. The privation of divine comforts should
induce us to pass severe strictures on ourselves,
when we do not make the required efforts to
be delivered from so sad a state. To possess a
virtue, or not to possess it, to have a defect,
or not to have it, is not always the criterion of
distinction between the regenerate man, and
him who has but the name and appearance of
regeneration. To make serious efforts to ac
quire the virtues we have not yet attained,
and to use endeavours to correct the faults to
which we are still liable, is a true character of

388

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

[SER. XCVII,

regeneration. But to see those faults with in-
diffe/ence; and under a plea of constitutional
weakness, not to subdue them, is a distinguish
ing mark of an unregenerate state. Thus^it is
apparent, that though the privation oft the
piety of taste and sentiment be not always
criminal, it is always an imperfection; and Ijhat
alone should prompt us to reform it. I will
suggest to you the remedies of this evil,
having in the third place traced the ca
which produce it.

III. To accomplish my purpose, and to ex
hibit the true causes which deprive us of the
piety of taste and sentiment, we shall make a
short digression on the nature of taste and sen
timent in general; we shall trace to the source
certain sympathies and antipathies which ty
rannize over us without our having apparently
contributed to the domination.

The task we here impose on ourselves, is a
difficult one. We proceed under a conscious
need of indulgence in what we propose. The
causes of our inclinations and aversions are,
apparently, one of the most intricate studies
of nature. There is something it would seem,
in the essence of our souls, which inclines us
to certain objects, and which revolts us against
others, when we are unconscious of the cause,
and sometimes even against the most obvious
reasons. The Creator has obviously given a
certain impulse to our propensities, which it is
not in our power to divert. Scarcely do the
dawnings of genius appear in children, before
we see them biassed by peculiar propensities.
Hence the diversity, and the singularity of
taste apparent in mankind. One has a taste
for navigation, another for trades of the most
grovelling kind. Virtue and vice have also
their scale in the objects of our choice. One
is impelled to this vice; another to a vice of
the opposite kind. One is impelled to a cer
tain virtue, another to a different virtue. And
who can explain the cause of this variety, or
prescribe a remedy for the evil, after having
developed the cause?

But how impenetrable soever this subject*
may appear, it is not altogether impossible, at
least in a partial way, to develop it. The
series of propositions we proceed to establish,
shall be directed to that end. But we ask be
forehand your indulgence, that in case we
throw not on the subject all the light you
would wish, do not attribute the defect to this
discourse, which may probably proceed from
the difficulty of the subject, and probably from
the slight attention our hearers pay to truths
which have the greatest influence on life and
happiness.

Proposition first. We have already intimat
ed, that a sensible object naturally makes a
deeper impression on men, than an object
which is abstract, spiritual, and remote. This
is but too much realized by our irregular pas
sions. A passion which controls the senses is
commonly more powerful than those which
are seated in the mind; ambition and the love
of glory are chiefly resident in the mind;
whereas, effeminacy and sensuality have their
principal seat in the senses. Passions of the
latter kind do more violence to the society than
others. With the exception of those called f
heroes in the world, mankind seldom sacrifice j

their ease, their sensuality, their effeminacy,
to high notions, to ambition, and the love of
glory. And how often have the heroes them
selves sacrificed all their laurels, their reputa
tion and their trophies, to the charm of some
sensible pleasure? How often have the charms
of a Delilah stopped the victories of a Samson;
and a Cleopatra those of a Cesar and a Mark
Antony?

Proposition second. The imagination capti
vates both the senses and the understanding.
A good which is not sensible; a good even
which has no existence, is contemplated as a
reality, provided it have the decorations pro
per to strike the imagination. The features
and complexion of a person do not prove that
a connexion formed with her would be agree
able and happy. Meanwhile, how often have
those features and tints produced a prejudice
of that kind? Nothing is often more insipid
than the pleasure found in conversation with
the great. At the same time, nothing com
monly appears so enviable. And why? Be
cause the splendour attendant on this inter
course strikes the imagination. The retinues
which follow them; the splendour of their car
riages; the mansions in which they live; the
multitude of people who flatter and adore
them; all these are strikingly qualified to make
an impression on the imagination, which super
sedes the operations of sense, and the convic
tions of the mind.

Proposition third. A present, or at least, an
approximate good, excites, for the most part,
more vehement desires, than a good which is
absent, or whose enjoyment is deferred to a
remote period. The point where the edge of
the passions is blunted, almost without excep
tion, is, when they have to seek their object in
distant epochs, and in future years.

Proposition fourth. Recollection is a sub
stitute for presence: I would say, that a good
in the possession of which we have found de
light, produces in the heart, though absent,
much the same desires, as that which is ac
tually present.

Proposition fifth. A good, ascertained and
fully known by experience, is much more ca
pable of inflaming our desires, than a good of
which we have but an imperfect notion, and
which is known only by the report of others.
A person endowed with good accomplishments,
and whose conversation we have enjoyed, is
more endeared to us than one known only by
character; though the virtues of the latter
have been represented as far surpassing the
virtues of the other.

A sixth proposition is, that all things being
equal, we prefer a good of easy acquisition, to
one which requires care and fatigue. Difficulty
sometimes, I grant, inflames desire, and se
duces the imagination. When we have a high
opinion of a good, which we believe is in our
power to acquire by incessant endeavours, our
ardours become invigorated, and we redouble
our efforts in proportion as the difficulty aug
ments. It is, however, an indisputable axiom,
and founded on the nature of the human mind
that things being equal, we prefer a good cf
easy acquisition, to one that requires anxiety
and fatigue.

A seventh proposition is, that a good beyond

SER. XCVIL]

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

389

our reach, a good that we do not possess, and
that we have no hope so to do, does not excite
any desire. Hope is the food of the passions.
Men do indeed sometimes pursue phantoms;
and they frequently run after objects which
they never enjoy; but it is always in hope of
enjoying them*.

The last proposition is, that avocations fill
the capacity of the soul. A mind which is
empty, at leisure, and unoccupied with ideas
and sentiments, is much more liable to be ani
mated with a passion, than one which is al
ready attracted, occupied, and absorbed, by
certain objects unconnected with that passion.

IV. These propositions may lead us to an
acquaintance with the causes of our antipathies
and our sympathies. We have laid them down
with a view to assign the reasons why most
people fall short of the piety of taste and senti
ment. This is the point we proceed to prove.
We shall also trace the sources of the evil, and
prescribe the principal remedies which ought
to be applied. We shall hereby make the
fourth part, combined with the third, the con
clusion of this discourse.

1. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and
sentiment? It is because that a sensible object
naturally makes a deeper impression upon us,
than an object which is abstract, invisible, and
spiritual. The God we adore, is a God that
hideth himself. The lustre of the duties impos
ed by religion, appear so to the mind only; they
have nothing that can attract the eyes of the
body. The rewards promised by Jesus Christ,
are objects of faith; they are reserved for a
world to come, which we never saw and of
which we have scarcely any conception: where
as the pleasures of this world are presented to
our taste; they dazzle the eye, and charm the
ear. They are pleasures adapted to a creature
which naturally suffers itself to be captivated
by sensible objects. Here is the first source
of the evil. The remedy to be applied is to
labour incessantly to diminish the sovereignty
of the senses. To animate the soul to so
laudable a purpose, we must be impressed with
the base and grovelling disposition of the man
who suffers himself to be enslaved by sense.
What! shall the senses communicate their
grossity and heaviness to our souls, and our
souls not communicate to the senses their
purity, their energies, and divine flame? What!
shall our senses always possess the power, in
some sort, to sensualize the soul, and our souls
never be able to spiritualize the senses? What!
shall a concert, a theatre, an object fatal to
our innocence, charm and ravish the soul,
while the great truths of religion are destitute
of effect11 What! do the ideas we form of the
perfect Being; of a God, eternal in duration,
wise in designs, powerful in execution, magnifi
cent in grace; what! does the idea of a Redeem- j
er, who sought mankind in their abject state,
who devoted himself for their salvation, who
placed himself in the breach between them and
the tribunal of justice; what! does the hope of
eternal salvation, which comprises all the fa
vours of God to man, do all these ideas still
leave us in apathy and indifference? This con
sideration should make a Christian blush; it
should induce him to call to his aid, meditation,
reading, retirement, solitude, and whatever is

calculated to enfeeble the influence of his
senses, whose sovereignty produces effects so
awful and alarming.

2. Aretwe destitute of the piety of taste
and sentiment? It is because the tyranny of
the senses is succeeded by the tyranny of the
imagination; it is because the objects of piety
are not accompanied with that sensible charm
with which the imagination is struck by the
objects of our passions. This is the second
source of the evil, and it points out the second
remedy which mufet be applied. A rational
man will be ever on his guard against his ima
gination. He will dissipate the clouds with
which it disguises the truth. He will pierce
the thin bark- with which it covers the sub
stance. He will make appearances give place
to realities. He will summon to the bar of
reason all the illusive conceptions his fancy
has formed. He will judge of an object by
the nature of the object itself, and not by the
chimeras with which they are decorated by a
seductive imagination.

Are we destitute of the piety of taste and
sentiment? It is because that a present, or,
at least, an approximate good, excites in us
more ardent desires than a good which is ab
sent, or whose enjoyment is deferred to a distant
period. This third source of evil suggests the
remedy that must be applied. Let us form the
habit of anticipating the future, and of realizing
it to our minds. Let us constantly exercise
that " faith which is the substance of things
hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen."
Let us " not look at the things which are seen,
which are temporal; but at eternal things,
which are not seen," Heb. xi. 5; 2 Cor. iv.
Let us often launch beyond the confined sphere
of objects with which we are surrounded. Our
notions must be narrow, indeed, if they do not
carry us above the economy of the present
life. It may terminate with regard to you in
twenty years, or in ten years: it may terminate
with regard to you in a few days, or in a few
hours. This is not all, we must often reflect
on the awful events which must follow the
narrow sphere assigned us here below. We
must often think that the world "shall pass
away with a great noise, and its elements melt
with fervent heat," and its foundations shall
be shaken. " The mighty angels shall swear
by Him that liveth for ever and ever, that time
shall be no longer," 2 Pet. iii. 10; Rev. x. 6.
We must often think on the irrevocable sen
tence which must decide the destiny of all
mankind; on the joys, on the transports of those
who shall receive the sentence of absolution;
and on the dreadful desponding cries of those
whom the Divine justice shall consign to eter
nal torments.

4. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and
sentiment? It is because, to a certain degree,
recollection is a substitute for presence. This
is the fourth source of evil. You would your
selves, and without difficulty, prescribe the
remedy, if, in this discourse which requires you
to correct your taste by your reason, you did
not consult your reason less than your taste.
But plead for certain pleasures with all the
energy of which you are capable; make an
apology for your parties, your games, your di
versions; say that there is nothing criminal in

390

A TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

[SER. XCVIL

those dissipations against which we have so
often declaimed with so much strength in this
holy place: be obstinate to maintain that
preachers and critics decry them from miscon
ceptions of their innocence. It is certain, how
ever, that the recollection of pleasure attracts
the heart to pleasure. The man who would
become more sensible of the pleasures of devo
tion, should apply himself to devotion; and the
man who would become less attracted by the
pleasures of the age, should absent himself from
the circles of pleasure.

5. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and
sentiment? It is because that a good, known
and experienced, is much more capable of in
flaming our desires, than that which is imper
fectly conceived, and known merely by the re
port of others. Why do we believe that a soul
profoundly composed in meditation on the glo
ries of grace, is "satisfied as with marrow and
fatness?" We believe it on the positive testi
mony of the prophet. We believe it on the
testimony of illustrious saints, who assert the
same thing. But let us endeavour to be con
vinced of the fact in a better way. " Lord,
show us the Father, and it sufficeth us." So
was the prayer of Philip to Jesus Christ, John
xiv. 8. This request proceeded from the igno
rance of the apostles, prior to the day of pente-
cost. The request was, however, founded both
on reason and truth. Philip was fully persuad
ed, if he could once see with his own eyes the
God, whose perfections were so gloriously dis
played, that he should be ravished with his
beauty; and that he should, without reluctance,
make the greatest sacrifices to please him. Let
us retain what is rational in the request of Phi
lip, rejecting what is less enlightened. Let us
say to Jesus, but in a sense more exalted than
this disciple, " Lord, show us the Father, and
it sufficeth us." Lord, give me to know by
experience the joy that results from the union
of a soul reconciled to its God, and I shall ask
no other pleasure; it shall blunt the point of
all others.

6. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and
sentiment? It is because all things being equal, '
we prefer a good, easy of acquisition, to one
that requires labour and fatigue. And would
to God, that we were always disposed to con
tract our motives with our fatigues; the esti
mate would invert our whole system of life.
We should find few objects in this world to
merit the efforts bestowed in their acquisition;
or, to speak as the Supreme Wisdom, we
should find that " we spend money for that
which is not bread, and labour for that which
satisfieth not," Isa. Iv. 2. Would to God, that
the difficulties of acquiring a piety of taste and
sentiment, were but properly contrasted with
the joy it procures those who surmount them.
In this view, we should realize the estimate,
" that the sufferings of this present life, are not
worthy to be compared with the glory that
shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18. See
ing then, that whatever part we espouse,

whether it be the part of religion, or the part
of the world, this life is invariably a life of la
bour, we should prefer the labours attended
with a solid peace, to those which involve ua
in anguish and inquietude.

7. The affairs of life engross the capacity of
the soul. A mind which is ernpty, at leisure,
and unoccupied with ideas and sentiments, is
much more liable to be animated and filled
with a passion, than one that is already con
centrated on certain objects, which have no
connexion with that passion. This is the last
reason assigned for our non-attainment of the
consolations of religion. Let us keep to the
point. Casting our eye on the crimes of men,
we regard, at first view, the greater part of
them as monsters. It would seem that most
men love evil for the sake of evil. I believe,
however, that the portrait fs distorted. Man
kind are perhaps not so wicked as we commonly
suppose. But to speak the truth, there is one
duty, my brethren, concerning which their no
tions are quite inadequate; that is, recollection.
There is likewise a vice whose awful conse
quences are by no means sufficiently perceived;
that vice, is dissipation. Whence is it, that a
man, who is appalled by the mere idea of
death and of hell, should, nevertheless, brave
them both? It is because he is dissipated; it is
because his soul, wholly engrossed by the cares
of life, is unable to pay the requisite attention
to the idea of death and hell, and to the inter
ests of this life. Whence is it, that a man dis
tinguished for charity and delicacy, shall act in
a manner so directly opposite to delicacy? It
is because the dissipations inseparable from the
office he fills, and still more so, those he inge
niously procures for himself, obstruct attention
to his own principles. To sum up all in one
word, whence is it, that we have such exalted
views of piety, and so little taste for piety? The
evil proceeds from the same source — our dissi
pations. Let us not devote ourselves to the
world more than is requisite for the discharge
of duty. Let our affections be composed; and
let us keep within just bounds the faculty of
reflection and of love.

If we adopt these maxims, we shall be able
to reform our taste; and I may add, to reform
our sentiment. We shall both think and love
as rational beings. And when we think and
love as rational beings, we shall perceive that
nothing is worthy of man but God, and what
directly leads to God. Fixing our eyes and
our hearts on the Supreme object, we shall
ever feel a fertile source of pure delight. In
solitude, in deserts, overtaken by the catastro
phes of life, or surrounded with the shadows
and terrors of death, we shall exult with our
prophet, " My soul is satisfied as with marrow
and fatness, and my mouth shall praise thee
with joyful lips, when I remember thee in the
night-watches;" and when I make thy adora
ble perfections the subject of my thought.
May God enable us so to do: to whom be ho
nour and glory for ever. Amen.

SER. XCVIIL]

ON REGENERATION.

391

SERMON XCVIIL

ON REGENERATION.

PART I.

JOHN iii. 1 — 8.

There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nico-
demus, a ruler of the Jews: the same came to
Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we
know that thou art a teacher come from God;
for no man can do those miracles that thou doest,
except God be with him. Jesus answered and
' said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee,
except a man be born again, he cannot see the
kingdom of God. Nicodemus saith unto him,
how can a man be born when he is old? Can
he enter the second time into his mother's womb
and be born? Jesus answered, Verily, verily,
I say unto thee, except a man be born of water
and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the king
dom of God. That which is born of the flesh
is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is
spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee,
ye must be born again. The wind bloweth
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound there
of, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and
whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of
the Spirit.

THE transition which happened in the con
dition of Saul was very remarkable. Born of
an obscure family, actually employed in seek
ing strayed asses, and having recourse on this
inconsiderable subject to the divine light of a
prophet, Saul instantly found himself anointed
with a mystic oil, and declared king, by the
prophet, who added, " It is because the Lord
hath anointed thee to be captain over his heri
tage.1' 1 Sam. x. 1.

To correspond with a rank so exalted, it was
requisite that there should be as great a change
in the person, as there was about to be in the
condition, of Saul. The art of government
has as many amplifications as there are wants
and humours in those that are governed. A
king must associate in some sort in his own
person, every science and every art. He must
be, so to speak, at the same juncture, artificer,
statesman, soldier, philosopher. Those who
are become gray-headed in this art find daily
new difficulties in its execution. How then
could Saul expect to acquire it in an instant?
The same prophet that notified the high honour
to which God had called him, discovered the
source whence he might derive the supports of
which he had need. " Behold (said he,) when
thou shall come to the hill of God, where
there is a garrison of the Philistines, thou shalt
meet a company of prophets. Then the spirit
of the Lord shall come upon thee, and thou
shalt prophesy, and thou shalt be changed to
another man,1' 1 Sam. x. 5, 6. The Spirit of
the Lord shall come upon thee: here is support
for the regal splendour; here is grace for the
adequate discharge of the royal functions.

Does it not seem, my brethren, that the sa
cred historian, in reciting these circumstances,
was wishful to give us a portrait of the change
which grace makes in the soul of a Christian.
" Conceived n sin, and shapen in iniquity, he

is by nature a child of wrath. His father is an
Amorite, and his mother a Hittite; yet he is
called out of darkness into marvellous light."
He is called to be a prince and a priest. But
in vain would he be honoured with a vocation
so high, if the change in his soul did not cor
respond with that of his condition. Who is
sufficient for so great a work? How shall men
whose ideas are low, and whose sentiments are
grovelling, attain to a magnanimity assortable
with the rank to which they are called of God?
The grace which elevates, chancres the man
who is called unto it. The Spirit of God
comes upon him; it gives him a new heart,
and he becomes another man.

These are the great truths which Jesus
Christ taught Nicodemus in the celebrated
conversation we have partly read, and which
we propose to make the subject of several dis
courses, if God shall preserve our life, and our
ministry. Here we shall discover the nature,
the necessity, and the JJuthor, of the regenera
tion which Christianity requires of us.

I. The nature of this change shall be the
subject of a first discourse. Here in giving
you a portrait of a regenerate man, and in de
scribing the characters of regeneration, we
shall explain to you the words of Jesus Christ,
" Except a man be born of water and of the
Spirit."

II. The necessity of this change shall be the
subject of a second discourse. Here, endea
vouring to dissipate the illusions we are fond
of making on the obligations of Christianity,
we shall press the proposition which Jesus
Christ collects and asserts with so much force,
" Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man
be born, of water and of the Spirit, he cannot
see the kingdom of God. Marvel not that I
said unto thee, ye must be born again. Art
thou a master in Israel, and knowest not these
things?"

III. The author of the change shall be the
subject of a third discourse. There using our
best efforts to penetrate the vast chaos with
which ignorance, shall I call it, or corruption,
has enveloped this branch of our theology, we
shall endeavour to illustrate and to justify the
comparison of Jesus Christ; " the wind bloweth
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound
thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh,
and whither it goeth."

I. In giving a portrait of the regenerate, and
in tracing the characters of regeneration (which
is the duty of the present day,) we must ex
plain the expressions of the Lord, " to be born
again; — to be born of the Spirit," though it be
not on grammatical remarks we would fix your
attention, we would, however, observe, that
the phrase, to be born of water and of the
Spirit, is a Hebraical phraseology, importing
to be born of spiritual water. By a similar ex
pression, it is said in the third chapter of St.
Matthew, " I indeed (says John Baptist) bap
tize you with water unto repentance, but there
cometh after me one mightier than I; he shall
baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with
fire;" that is, with spiritual life. When Jesus
Christ says, that we cannot see the kingdom
of God, except we are born of water and of
the Spirit, he wishes to apprise us, that it is
not sufficient to be a member of his church, to

392

ON REGENERATION.

[SER. XCVIII.

be baptized, which is called " the washing of
regeneration;"* but that greater renovations
must take place in the heart, than what water
can produce on the surface of the body.

With regard to the other expression, " To
be born again," it is susceptible of a double
sense. The original term may perhaps be so
translated; so is its import in various places,
which are not of moment to recite here. Tt
may also be rendered, born from above; as in
the third chapter of St. James, " The wisdom
from above is first pure, then peaceable." In
this text, the original term is the same as that
which we here translate born again; but though
the variation might attract the critic's attention,
it ought not to divert the preacher; for to
whichsoever of the readings we may give the
preference, the idea of our version invariably
corresponds with the design of the Holy Ghost,
and with the sense of the original. The uni
form intention of Jesus Christ must be to dis
tinguish our state of grace from that of na
ture. The state of nature is low and grovelling;
that of grace is noble and sublime; consonant
to what our Saviour said unto the Jews, " Ye
are from beneath, I am from above," John viii.
23. Now for men whose birth is mean and
grovelling, to acquire a great and noble descent,
they must be born anew; thus to be born from
above, and to be born again, are the same thing;
and both these readings, how different soever
they may appear, associate in the same sense.
It is of much more importance to remark on
the words which follow, "Born of water and
of the Spirit;" first, that they are Hebraisms;
and we have found the authorities so nume
rous, that we have had more difficulty in re
jecting the less pertinent than in making the
selection.

The Jews call the change which they pre
sume their proselytes had experienced a spi
ritual birth; a new birth; a regeneration. It was
one of their maxims, that the moment a man
became a proselyte, he was regarded as a child,
once born in sin, but now born in holiness.
To be born in holiness, was, in their style, to be
born in the covenant; and to this mode of
speaking, St. Paul apparently refers in that re
markable passage in the first Epistle to the
Corinthians, vii. 14. " The unbelieving hus
band is sanctified by the wife, and the unbeliev
ing wife is sanctified by the husband; else were
your children unclean, but now are they
holy."—" Now are they holy;" that is, they
are accounted as born within the covenant.
Consonant to this notion, the Jews presumed
that a man on becoming a proselyte, had
no longer any consanguinity with those to
whom nature had joined him with indissoluble
ties; and that he had a right to espouse his
sister, and his mother, if they became prose
lytes like himself! This gave Tacitus, a pagan
historian, occasion to say, that the first lessons
the Jews taught a proselyte was, to despise the
gods, to renounce his country, and to regard
his own children with disdain.f And Mai-

* Our learned Mede prefers the literal reading of
Titus iii . 6. The washing of the New Birth, and the re
newing of the Holy Ghost. Ffom this distinction of St.
Paul, many divines distinguished the New Birth as the
entrance on R-egeneration. — The Translator.

I Book i. chap. 5.

, monides affirms, that the children with which
an Egyptian woman is pregnant at the time she
becomes a proselyte, are of the second birth.
Hence some Rabbins have had the odd and
confused refinement to suppose, that there is
an infinity of souls born of I know not what
ideal mass; that those destined to the just, lodge
in a certain palace; that when a pagan em
braces Judaism, one of those souls proceeds from
its abode, and appears before the Divine Ma
jesty, who embraces it, and sends it into the
body of the proselyte, where it remains; that
as an infant is not fully made a partaker of
human nature, but when a pre-existent spirit
is united to its substance in the bosom of its
mother, so a man never becomes a true prose
lyte but when a new spirit becomes the sub
stitute of that he derived from nature.*

Though it be not necessary to prove by nu
merous authorities the first remark we shall
make on the words of Christ, " To be born of
spiritual water," and to be " born again," it is
proper at least to propose it; otherwise it would
be difficult to account for our Saviour's re
proving Nicodemus, as being " a master in
Israel and not knowing these things." For a
doctor in the law does not seem reprehensible
for not understanding a language peculiar to
Jesus Christ, and till then unheafd of; whereas
the blame naturally devolved on this Jew for
exclaiming at expressions familiar to the Rab
bins. No doubt, Nicodemus was one of those
men, who, according to an ancient and still
existing abuse, had superadded to his rank and
dignity, the title of doctor, of which he was
rendered unworthy by his ignorance. Hence
the evangelist expressly remarks, that he was
" a ruler of the Jews;" " a ruler of the Jews!'*
here are his degrees; here are his letters; here
is his patent.

But Jesus Christ, and this is my second re
mark, in borrowing, corrected the language of
the Jews. He meant not literally what he said
to Nicodemus, that to enter the kingdom of
God, or according to the language of Scripture
^nd of the Jews, to be a disciple of the Messiah,
one "must be born again:" he never imbibed
the notion, that a man on embracing Chris
tianity, receives a new soul to succeed the one
he received from nature; he had not adopted
the refinement of the Jewish cabalists, concern
ing the pre-existence of souls. The expres
sions are figurative, and consequently subject
to the inconveniences of all similes, and figu
rative language in general. The metaphor he
employs, when representing by the figure of
" a new birth," the change which must take
place in the soul of a man on becoming a
Christian; this metaphor I say, must be

1. Restricted.

2. It must be justified.

3. It must be softened.

4. It must be fortified.

1. The expression of Jesus Christ must be
restricted. We cannot well find the import of
any metaphor, unless we separate whatever is

* When our Saviour says, that neither the blind man,
nor his parents, had sinned in a pre-existent state, he
obviously decides against this doctrine of Pythagorus and
the Rabbins. How can a holy God send a holy soul into
a sinful body? And St. Paul says, that Levi paid tithes
in the loins of Abraham.— J. S.

SER. XCVIIL]

ON REGENERATION.

extraneous to the subject to which it is applied.
The ideas of all authors whatever would be
distorted, did we wish to extend their figures
beyond the just bounds. What is indisputable
with regard to all authors, is peculiarly so with
regard to the orientals, for excelling other na
tions in a warm imagination, they naturally
abound in bolder metaphors. Hence the bolder
the metaphors, the more is the need to restrict
them; the more they would frustrate the pro
posed design, should we not avail ourselves of
this precaution. What absurd systems have
not originated from the license indulged on the
comparison of Jesus Christ concerning the ties
which unite us to himself, with the connexion
they have with the aliments which nourish us,
and which by manducation, are changed, if we
may so speak, into our own substance? Pro
perly to understand this comparison, we must
restrict it. We must be aware that it turns on
this single point, that as food cannot nourish
us, unless it be received into the body by eat
ing; just so, the religion of Jesus Christ will
be unavailing, if we content ourselves with
regarding it in a superficial manner; neglect a
profound entrance into all its doctrines, and a
close application of its maxims to the heart.
Of other similes we may say the same. How
many are the insipid notions which arise from
straining the comparisons between the mystical
significance of the ritual law, and the myste
ries of the gospel? I here refer to the types;
those striking figures, of which God himself
is the author, and which in the first ages of the
church traced the outlines of great events,
which could not take place till many ages after
they had been adumbrated by those figures.
On contemplating those types in a judicious
manner, you will find support for your faith,
and indisputable proofs of the truth of your
religion. But to contemplate them in a just
point of view, they must be restricted in a
thousand respects, in which they can have no
connexion with the object they are designed
to represent. Into how many mistakes should
we run on neglecting this precaution; and on
straining the striking metaphors taken from
the priests, the victims, and other shadows in
the ritual Jaw? To understand those types and
figures, we must restrict them; we must be
aware that they bear on this single point; I
would say, that as the office of the high-priest
under the law was to reconcile God to the
tribes of Israel, whose name he bore engraved
on his mysterious pectoral; just so, the mediato
rial offic of Christ consisted in reconciling
God to tne men, with whose nature he was
clothed

Never had figure more need of this precau
tion; never had figure more need to be re
stricted than that employed by Jesus Christ in
the words of my text. The restriction has a
double bearing. First, it must be restricted to
the persons of the unregenerate who are not in
communion with his people; and secondly, to
the things which Jesus Christ requires of the
unregenerate. The comparison of Jesus Christ
must be restricted to the profligate, or to the
self-righteous, who are not in communion with
his people. If we fail to make this distinction ,
but indiscriminately apply the expression to
all, we confound the change required of a man
VOL. II.— 50

who has not yet embraced Christianity, with
that required of a weak and wandering Chris
tian, who makes daily efforts to attain the
knowledge of the truth, and to practise virtue;
or, who recovers from his errors and devia
tions. It would be unfair to say, that such a
Christian has need to " be born again," at
least, in the sense which Jesus Christ attaches
to the words of my text.

2. The comparison must be restricted to the
change itself, which Jesus Christ requires of
those to whom it ought to be applied. But in
what respects are those things called a new
birth? The metaphor concentrates itself on a
single point; that as an infant on coming into
the world, experiences so great a change in its
mode of existence in regard of respiration, of
nourishment, of sight, and of all its sensations,
and so very different from what was the case
prior to its birth, as in some sort to seem a new
creature; so a man on passing from the world
to the church, is a new man compared with
what he was before. He has now other ideas,
other desires, other propensities, other hopes,
other objects of happiness. If you should not
make this restriction: but extend the metaphor,
you would make very injudicious contrasts be
tween the circumstances of the new, and of the
natural birth; and you would form notions,
not only unworthy of reception, but deemed
unworthy of refutation in a place like this.

II. But the change here represented by the
idea of a new birth, is not the less a reality,
for being couched in figurative language.
Hence we have said in the second place, that
the expression of Jesus Christ must be justi
fied. In what does the change required of
those that would enter into fellowship with
him consist? In what does this new birth con
sist? We have just insinuated, that it is a
change of ideas; a change of desires; a change
of taste; a change of hope; a change of the
objects of happiness.

1. A change of ideas. An unregenerate
man, unacquainted with Jesus Christ, is wish
ful to be the arbitrator of his own ideas. He
admits no propositions but what are proved at
the bar of reason; he takes no guide but his
own discernment, or that of some doctor,
often as blind, and sometimes more so, than
himself. On the contrary, the regenerate man
sees solely with the eyes of his Saviour: Je
sus Christ is his only guide, and if I may so
speak, his sole reason, and his sole discern
ment.

I have no clear idea of the manner in which
my soul can subsist after the ties which unite
it to matter are dissolved. I do not properly
know my soul by idea; I know it solely by sen
timent, and by experience; and I have never
thought without the medium of my brain;
1 have never perceived objects without the me
dium of my eyes; I have never heard sounds
without the organs of my ears; and it does
not appear to me that these sensations can be
conveyed in any other way. ,,I believe, how
ever, that I shall hear sounds when the organs
of my ears are destroyed; I believe that I
shall perceive objects when the light of my
eyes is extinguished; I believe that I shall
think, and in a manner more close and sub
lime when my brain shall exist no more.

394

ON REGENERATION.

[SER. XCVIIL

I believe that ray soul shall perform all these
operations when my body shall be cold, pale,
immovable, and devoured of worms in the
tornb: I believe it; — but why? Because this
Jesus to whom I have commended rny spirit,
has said to the penitent thief, and in him to
every true Christian, " Verily I say unto thee,
to-day shall thou be with me in paradise,"
Luke xxiii. 43.

I have no idea of this awful mystery, where
by a God, a God essentially One, associates
in his own essence a Father, a Son, and a Holy
Ghost; that as the distinction with regard to
Paternity, Filiation, and Spiration, is as real
as the union with regard to the Godhead.
These mysteries have no connexion with my
knowledge; yet I believe them: and why? Be
cause I have changed my ideas, because this
Jesus to whom I have yielded up my spirit,
this Jesus, after preaching the doctrine of the
unity of God, has decided, that the Father is
God, that the Son is God, that the Holy Ghost
is God: and he has said to his apostles, " Go,
and teach all nations, baptizing them in the
name of the Father, of the Son, and of the
Holy Ghost."*

SERMON XCVIIL

ON REGENERATION.

PART II.

JOHN iii. 8.
The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hear-

est the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence

it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one

that is born of the Spirit.

MY brethren, it is not in our power to dis
cuss the subject on which we now enter, with
out deploring the contests it has excited in the
Christian world. In our preceding discourses
you have seen the nature, and the necessity of
regeneration: we now proceed to address you.
on its Author; and to call your attention to
this part of Jesus Christ's conversation with
Nicodemus; " The wind bloweth where it list
eth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither
it goeth: so is every one that is born of the
Spirit." How often has this subject armed
Christian against Christian, and communion
against communion? How often has it ba
nished from the church that peace which it
seems so much calculated to cherish? No
sooner had the apostles entered on their minis
try, than they magnified the doctrines of grace;
but in magnifying them, they seemed sent to
set the world on fire. The Jews and the phi
losophers, prepossessed in favour of human
sufficiency, revolted at a doctrine so opposed
to their pride: they presumed on making a
progress in virtue, that they owed the praise
solely to their own efforts of personal virtue.

* The rest of this posthumous sermon is not in the origi
nal; neither is there any apology for the loss by the pres
byters and deacons who edited the volume. The argu
menls being resumed in the next sermon, and especially
the sermon on " A Taste for Devotion," will, in some
tort, develope the author's sentiments.

No one is ignorant of the noise which the
doctrine of grace excited in the ages which
followed; of the schism of Pelagius, and of
the immense volumes which the ancient fa
thers heaped on this heretic.^The doctrines
of grace have been agitated in the church of
Rome: they formed in its bosom two powerful
parties, which have given each other alternate
blows, and alike accused each other of over
turning Christianity. No sooner had our re
formers raised the standard, than the disputes
concerning the doctrines of grace were on the
point of destroying the work they had begun
with so much honour, and supported with suc
cess; and one saw in the communion they had
just formed, the same spirit of division, as that
which existed in the communion they had left.
The doctrines of grace have caused in this re
public as much confusion as in any other part
of the Christian world: and what is more de
plorable is, that after so many questions discuss
ed, so many battles fought, so many volumes
written, so many anathemas launched, the
dispositions of the public are not yet concilia
ted, and the doctrines of grace often remain
enveloped in the cloud they endeavoured to
dissipate; and so much so that the efforts they
made to illustrate so interesting a subject,
served merely to confuse and envelope it the
more.

But how notty soever this subject may be,
it is not my design to disturb the embers, and
revive your disputes. I would endeavour, not
to divide, but to conciliate and unite your
minds: and during the whole of this discourse,
in which the Holy Spirit is about to discover
himself to you under the emblem of a wind, I
shall keep in view the revelation with which a
prophet was once honoured: God said to Eli
jah, " Go forth, and stand on the mountain
before the Lord. And behold, the Lord passed
by, and a great and strong wind rent the moun
tains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the
Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and
after the wind, an earthquake; but the Lord
was not in the earthquake: and after the earth
quake, a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire:
and after the fire, a still small voice: (a sound
coy and subtle.) Then Elijah, awed with re
verence at the divine presence, wrapped his
face in his mantle," and recognised the token
of Jehovah's presence. The first emblems of
this vision have been but too much realized in
the controversies of the Christian church: but
when shall the latter be realized? Long enough;
yea too long, have we seen " the great and
strong wind which rent the mountains, and
brake in pieces the rocks." Long enough;
yea too long, has the earthquake shook the pil
lars of the church; but the Lord was not in
the wind; the Lord was not in the earthquake.
Yet at this very day the Vatican* kindles the
fire, and witli thunderbolts in its hand, it pre
sumes to determine, or rather to take away,
the laws of grace: " but the Lord was not in
the fire."

*The Vatican is a most magnificent palace at Rome;
the residence of the Popes, and celebrated for its library.
The learned Varro says it took its name from the answers
or oracles called by the Latins vaticinia, which the Ro
man people received there from a god of the same name,
who was said to be the author of the first sounds of iu-
fants, which is va, from vagire, t,» cry. — J. S,

SER. XCVIIL]

ON REGENERATION.

395

May this still small voice, the precursor of
the Divinity, and the symbol of his presence,
be heard to-day in the midst of this assembly!
Excite thy hallowing accents, in these taberna
cles we have built for thy glory, and in which
we assemble in thy name, O Holy Spirit, Spirit
of peace: may thy peace rest on the lips and
heart of the preacher; may it animate all those
that compose this assembly, that discord may
for ever be banished from our churches, and be
confined to the abyss of hell from whence it
came, and that charity may succeed. Amen.

We must now illustrate the doctrine of the
text, and state at large the ideas of the gospel
respecting the aids of the Spirit of God, to
which regeneration is here ascribed by Jesus
Christ, and without which we might justly ex
claim with Nicodemus at our Saviour's asser
tion, " How can these things be?" With that
view I shall propose certain maxims, which
shall be as so many precautions one should
take when entering on this discussion, and
which will serve to guide in a road that con
troversies have rendered so thorny and difficult.
We shall afterward include in six propositions
all which seems to us a Christian ought to
know, and all he ought to do on this subject.
This is all that remains for me to say.

Maxim 1. In the selection of passages on
which you established the doctrine of the aids
of the Holy Spirit, be more cautious to choose
those that are pertinent, than to amass a mul
titude that are inconclusive. The rule pre
scribed in the beginning of this discourse, and
which we shall inviolably follow to the end,
not to revive the controversy, prevents my as
signing all the reasons that induce me to begin
with this precaution. It is a general fault, and
indeed a very delicate propensity in defending
a proposition, to adopt with avidity, not only
what favours it in effect; but what seems to
favour it. In the warmth of conversation, and
especially in the heat of debate, we use argu
ments of which we are ashamed when reason
returns, and when we calmly converse. Di
vines are not less liable to this fault than other
men. By how many instances might we sup
port this assertion? But not to involve myself
in a discussion so delicate and difficult, I only
remark, that if there be in our Scriptures an
equivocal term, it is that of spirit. It is equi
vocal not only with regard to the diversity of
subjects to which it is applied, but also because
of the diversity of its bearings on the same
subject. And what ought to be the more care
fully noticed in the subject we discuss, is, that
it has significations without number when ap
plied to the aids of the Holy Spirit which hea
ven accords to men. Do not imagine that
every time it is said the Spirit of God is given
to man, the gifts of sanctifying grace are to be
understood. In very many places it signifies
the gift of miracles. Select, therefore, the
passages on which you would establish the
doctrfne of sanctifying grace; and be less soli
citous of amassing a multitude, than of urging
those which are pertinent and conclusive.

Maxim 2. In establishing the doctrine of
the operation of grace, be cautious of overturn
ing another not less essential to religion. When
you establish this part of our Saviour's theo

logy, be careful not to injure his moral code;
and under the plea of rendering man orthodox,
do not make him wicked. As there is nothing
so rare in the intercourse of life, as a certain
equanimity of temper, which makes a man al
ways appear like himself, and unfluctuating,
how much soever he may fluctuate in circum
stances; so there is nothing more rare in the
sciences than that candour of argument, which
in maintaining a proposition, we leave in full
force some other proposition we had maintain
ed, and which we had had some particular rea
son for so doing. There are some authors
constantly at variance with themselves. What
is requisite to refute what a certain author ad
vances in a recent publication? We have but
to adduce what he has presumed to establish in
a former work. By what means may we re
fute what a preacher has just advanced in the
last sentences of a discourse? By adducing
what he presumed to confirm but a moment
before in the same discourse. Now, rny bre
thren, there is one point of the Christian doc
trine, on which this caution is very necessary;
it is that on which we spake to-day. Let us
take care that we do not merit the censure
which has been made on the most celebrated
of the ancient advocates of grace* (whether
correct or incorrect I do not undertake to de
termine;) the censure is, that when attacking
the Manicheans, he favoured the cause of the
Pelagians; and when attacking the Pelagians,
he favoured the cause of the Manicheans. Let
us detest the maxims of certain modern preach
ers concerning the doctrines of grace; that a
preacher should be orthodox in the body of his
sermon, but heretic in the application. No;
let us not be heretics either in the body or in
the application of our sermons. Let us neither
favour the system of Pelagius, nor that of the
Manicheans. Let us have a theology and a
morality equally supported. Let us take heed
not to establish the doctrine of the divine aids,
in a way that attacks the other doctrines, as
those men do; for God, who is supremely
holy, is not the author of sin. Let us take
heed in expounding the passages which esta
blish the doctrine of grace, not to do it in a
way which makes them impugn those pas
sages of Scripture, where God " invites all
men to repentance:" Rom. ii. 4. and where it
is said, that " he is not willing that any should
perish, but that all should come to repentance,"
2 Pet. iii. 9; where he declares that " if we do
perish," " it is of ourselves," and only of our
selves, Hos. xiii. 9; where he calls upon the
inhabitants of Jerusalem to confess, that he
had taken all the proper care that his " vine
yard should bring forth grapes, though it
brought forth wild grapes," Isa. v. 3, 4; where
he introduces himself as addressing to man
kind the most pathetic exhortations, and en
treaties the most ardent, to promote their con
version, and as shedding the bitterest tears on
their refusal; as saying in the excess of his
grief, " O that thou hadst known, at least in
this thy day, the things that belong to thy
peace," Luke xix. 41, 42. " O that my peo
ple had hearkened unto me," Ps. Ixxxi. 13j

* Augustin.

396

ON REGENERATION.

[SER. XCVIII.

" O that they were wise; that they understood
this; that they would consider their latter
end," Deut. xxxii. 29.

Maxim 3. Do not abandon the doctrine of
grace, because you are unable to explain all
its abstruse refinements, or because you cannot
reply to all the inquiries it may have suggest
ed. There is scarcely a proposition which
could claim our assent, were we to give it to
those only whose several parts we can clearly
explain, and to whose many questions we can
fully reply. This maxim is essential to all the
sciences. Theology has what is common to all
human sciences: and in addition, as its object
is much more noble and exalted, it has more
points, concerning which it is not possible fully
to satisfy the mind. This is especially the case
with regard to the doctrine we now discuss. I
might, were it required, give you many de
monstrations, that the nature of the doctrine
is such that we cannot perfectly comprehend
it. We know so little of the manner in which
certain ideas and certain sentiments are excit
ed in the soul; we know so little how the un
derstanding acquiesces, and how the will de
termines, that it is not surprising if we are
ignorant of what is requisite for the under
standing to acquiesce, and the will to deter
mine, in religion: we especially know so little
of the various means God can employ, when
he is pleased to work on our soul, that it is
really a chance to hit on the right one by
which he draws us from the world: it may be
by his sovereignty over our senses; it may be
by an immediate operation on the substance
of our souls. But without having recourse to
this mode of reasoning, the doctrine of my
text is quite sufficient to substantiate the maxim
I advance. I presume that you ought to admit
the doctrine of grace, though you can neither
perfectly explain it, nor adequately answer all
the questions it may have excited. This is the
precise import of the comparison Jesus Christ
makes between the agency of the Holy Spirit
and the operations of the wind. " The wind
bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the
sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it
cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one
that is born of the Spirit."

Maxim 4. When two truths on the doc
trines of grace are apparently in opposition,
and cannot be reconciled, sacrifice the less im
portant to that which is of greater moment.
Two truths cannot in reality be in opposition.
It is a fact demonstrated, that two contradic
tory propositions cannot both be true; but the
limits of our understanding often present a
contradiction where in reality none exists. I
frequently hear learned men expound the gos
pel, but Adopting different methods to attain
the same end, they suggest difficulties alter
nately. Some press the duty of man; others
enlarge on >;the inability of man, and on the
need he has of divine assistance. The former
tax the latter with giving sanction to the cor
ruption of man: and the latter charge the for
mer with flattering the pride of man. The
first object to the second, that in totally de
stroying the faculties of man, and in straining
the necessity of grace, they authorize, him to
say, " Seeing literally that I can do nothing, I
ought not to blame myself for doing nothing;

nor to make a crime of remaining where I am."
The second charge the first that in conferring
too much honour on the powers of man, and in
affording him too much reason to believe he is
still the arbitrator of his own will, they throw
the temptation in his way to crown himself
with his own merits, and to become the work
er of his own salvation. Now, supposing we
were obliged to choose either to lean to the
pride of man, or to his corruption, for which
must we decide? I am fully convinced that
the necessity of diligence, which is imposed
upon us, should not give any colour to our
pride: and you will see it instantly; you will
see that however great the application which
the best of saints may have made to the work
of their salvation, humility was their invariable
sentiment. You will see that after having
read, and thought, and reflected; that having
endeavoured to subdue their senses, and to
sacrifice the passions God requires in sacrifice,
they have believed it their duty to abase their
eyes to the earth, and to sink into the dust
from which they were made; yea, always to
say with the profoundest sentiments of abase
ment, " O God, righteousness belongeth unto
thee, but unto us shame and confusion of
face," Dan. ix. 7. Hence, if we were obliged
to choose either a system which apparently fa
vours the pride of man, or a system which ap
parently favours his corruption, we could not
hesitate, we must sacrifice the last to the first.
The reason is obvious, because in leaning to
the pride of man, you do but favour one pas
sion, whereas, by leaning to the corruption of
man, you favour every passion; you favour
hatred, revenge, and obduracy; and in favour
ing every passion, you favour this very pride
you are wishful to destroy. Now, it must be
incomparably better to favour but one passion,
than to favour them all in one.

Maxim 5. In pressing the laws of grace, do
not impose the law of making rules so general
as to admit of no exceptions. I know indeed
that God is always like himself, and that there
is a certain uniformity which is the grand cha-
^acter of all his actions; but on this occasion,
as on many others, he deviates from common
rules. There are miracles in grace, as in na
ture: so you shall presently see, my brethren,
in the use of this maxim, and in the necessity
of this precaution.

II. Entering now on the doctrine of grace,
and with the precautions just laid down, do
not fear to follow us into this troubled sea, how
dangerous soever it may appear, and how
abundant soever it may be, in shipwrecks. I
proceed to associate practice with speculation,
and to comprise in six propositions all that a
Christian ought to know, and all he ought to
do, in regard to this subject.

1. Nature is so depraved, that man, without
supernatural aids, cannot conform to the con
ditions of his salvation.

2. That how invincible soever this corruption
may be, there is a wide difference between the
man who enjoys, and the man who is deprived
of revelation.

3. That the aids which man can neither de
rive from the wreck of nature, nor from ex
terior revelation, are promised to him in the
gospel.

SER. XCVIIL]

ON REGENERATION.

397

4. That though man can neither draw from
the wreck of nature, nor from exterior revela
tion, the requisite aid to fulfil the conditions of
his salvation; and though the grace of the Holy
Spirit be promised to him; he has no right to
presume on those aids, while he obstinately re
sists the aids afforded him by his frail nature
and by exterior revelation.

5. That the aids of the Holy Spirit promis
ed to men, are imparted at first by measure;
hence to abuse those he already has, is the
surest way to obstruct the reception of fresh
support.

6. To whatever degree one may have carried
the abuse of past favours, one ought not to de
spair of obtaining fresh support, which should
always be asked with fervent prayer.

These, brethren, are our six propositions,
which apparently contain all that a Christian
ought to know, and all he ought to do on
this subject. God is my witness that I enter
on the discussion in such a way as appears to
me most proper to cherish among us that peace,
which should ever be so dear, and to prevent
all those unhappy controversies which have
agitated the church in general, and this repub
lic in particular. I shall proceed with these
propositions in the same temper as I have enu
merated them, and haste to make them the
conclusion of this discourse.

1. Nature is so depraved, that man, without
supernatural aids, cannot conform to the con
ditions of his salvation. Would to God that
this proposition was less true! Would to God
that we had more difficulty in proving it! But
study your own heart. Listen to what it whis
pers in your ear concerning the precepts God
has given in his word: listen to it on the sight
of the man who has offended you. What ani
mosity! what detestation! what revenge! Lis
ten to it in prosperity. What ambition! what
pride! what arrogance! Listen to it when we
exhort you to humility, to patience, to charity.
What evasions! what repugnance! what excuses!

From the study of your own heart, proceed
to that of others. Examine the infancy, the
life, the death of man. In his infancy you
will see the fatal germ of his corruption; sad,
but sensible proof of the depravity of your na
ture, an alarming omen of the future. You
will see him prone to evil from his very cradle,
indicating from his early years the seeds of
every vice, and giving from the arms of the
nurses that suckle him, preludes of all the ex
cesses into which he will fall as soon as his ca
pacity is abh to aid his corruption. Contem
plate him in mature age; see what connexions
he forms with his associates! Connexions of
ambition; connexions of avarice; connexions
of cupidity. Look at him in the hour of
death, and you will see him torn from a world
from which he cannot detach his heart, regret
ting even the objects which have constituted
his crimes, and carrying to the tomb, if I may
so speak, the very passions which, during life,
have divided the empire of his soul.

After studying man, study the Scriptures:
there you will see that God has pledged the
infallibility of his testimony to convince us of
a truth, to which our presumption scrupled to
subscribe. It will say, that " you were con
ceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity." It will I

say, that " in you; that is, in your flesh, dwell-
eth no good thing." It will say, that " this
flesh is not subject to the law of God; neither
indeed can be." It will say, that you carry
within you, ".a law in your members, which
wars against the law of your mind; a flesh
which lusteth against the spirit." It will tell
you, that man in regard to the conditions of
his salvation is a stock, a stone, a nothing; that
he is blind and dead. It would be easy to
swell the list! It would be easy indeed, but in
adducing to you those passages of Scripture on
which we found the sad doctrine of natural de
pravity, I observe the caution already laid
down, of preferring in the selection, a small
number of conclusive passages, to the produc
tion of a multitude. Nature being so far cor
rupted, man cannot, withaut the aids of grace,
conform to the conditions of his salvation.

Here is the first thing you ought to know,
and the first thing you ought to do; it is, to
feel your weakness and inability; to humble
and abase yourselves in presence of the holy
God; to cry from the abyss into which you are
plunged, " O wretched man that I am, who
shall deliver me from the body of this death!"
Rom. vii. 24. It is to groan under the depra
vity of sin. O glory of primitive innocence,
whither art thou fled! O happy period, in which
man was naturally prompted to believe what is
true, and to love what is amiable, why art thoa
so quickly vanished away! Let us not deplore
the curse on the ground; the infection of air;
nor the animals destined for the service of man,
that now turn their fury against him; let us
rather deplore our disordered faculties; our be
clouded reason, and our perverted will.

2. But however great, however invincible,
the corruption of all men may be, there is a
wide difference between him who has the ad
vantage of revelation, and him to whom it is
denied. This is the second thing you ought to
know on the subject we discuss; and this se
cond point of speculation is a second source of
practice. Do not apply to Christians born in
the Church, and acquainted with revelation,
portraits which the holy Scriptures give solely
to those who are born in pagan darkness. I
am fully aware that revelation, unattended
with the supernatural aids of grace, is inade
quate for a man's conversion. The preceding-
article is sufficient to prove it. I know that all
men are naturally " dead in trespasses and

3." It is evident, however, that this death
las its degrees: and that the impotency of a
man, favoured with revelation, is not of the
same kind as that of him who is still in pagan
darkness. It is equally manifest, that a man,
who, after having heard the doctrine of the
jospel, grovels in the same sort of error and of
vice into which he was impetuously drawn by
lis natural depravity, is incomparably more
ruilty than he who never heard the gospel.
Hear what Jesus Christ says of those who, hav-
ng heard the gospel, and who had not availed
themselves of its aids to forsake their error and
vice; " Had I not come and spoken unto them,
they had not had sin; but now they have no
cloak for their sin." Here is the second thing
you ought to know; hence the second thing
?ou ought to do, is, not to shelter yourselves,
with a view to extenuate voluntary depravity

398

ON REGENERATION.

XCVIII

under certain passages of Scripture, which ex
claim not against the impotency of a Christian,
but against that of a man who is still in pagan
darkness; you must apply the general assertion
of Jesus Christ to all the exterior cares that
have been taken to promote your conversion:
" If I had not come and spoken unto them,
they had not had sin; but now they have no
cloak for their sin." O my soul, with what
humiliating ideas should those words of the
Lord strike thee! If God had not come; if he
had not made thee to suck truth and virtue
with thy mother's milk; if he had not raised
thee up masters in thy youth, and ministers in
thy riper age; if thou hadst not heard so many
instructive and pathetic sermons, and read so
many instructive and affecting books; if thou
hadst not been pressed by a thousand and a
thousand calls, thou hadst not had sin; at least
thou mightest have exculpated thyself on the
ground of thy ignorance and natural depravity;
but now thou art " without excuse." O un
happy creature, what years has God tutored
thee in his church! What account canst thou
give of all his care! Now Ihou art " without
excuse." Here is the way we should study
ourselves, and not lose sight of the precaution,
not to sap morality under a plea of establish
ing this part of our theology.

3. The aids which man is unable to draw
either from the wreck of nature or from exte
rior revelation, are promised to him in the gos
pel: he may attain them by the operations of
the Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God this con
solatory proposition is supported by Express
passages of Scripture; by passages the most
conclusive, according to our first precaution.
What else is the import of the thirty-first chap
ter of Jeremiah's prophecies? "Behold the
days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a
new covenant with the house of Israel, and
with the house of Judah. — This shall be the
covenant that I will make with them: I will
put my law in their inward parts, and write it
in their hearts." What else is the import of
the thirty-sixth chapter of Ezekiel's prophecies?
"I will sprinkle clean water upon you; I will
give you a new heart; I will put a new spirit
within you." What else is the import of St.
James' words in the first chapter of his general
epistle? " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask
of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and
upbraideth not. And of Jesus Christ in the
words of my text, " The wind bloweth where
it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof,
but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whi
ther it goeth." Hence the third thing that we
should know, and the third thing that we should
do, is, to bless God that he has not left us to
the weakness of nature; it is, like St. Paul,
" to give thanks to God through Jesus Christ,"
Rom. i. 8; it is to ask of him those continual
supports, without which " we can do nothing."
It is often to say to him, " O God, draw us,
and we will run after thee. Create in us a
clean heart, and renew a right spirit within
us," Cant. i. 8; Ps. li. 12.

4. But is it sufficient to pray? Is it enough
to ask? We have said in the fourth place, that
though a man may be unable to draw from
frail nature, and exterior revelation, the requi
site aids to conform to the conditions of his sal

vation; he has no right to presume on the grace
of the Holy Spirit, while he obstinately resists
the aids which frail nature, and revelation af
ford. But here we seem to forget one of the
maxims already laid down, and what we our
selves have advanced; that if it is requisite for
me to fulfil the conditions with which the gos
pel has connected salvation, how can I do
otherwise than obstinately resist the efforts
which frail nature, and exterior revelation af
ford? This difficulty is but in appearance. To
know, whether when abandoned to our natural
depravxty, and aided only by exterior revela
tion, we can conform to the conditions of the
gospel; or whether, when abandoned to the
depravity of nature, and aided only by exterior
revelation, we are invincibly impelled to every
species of crime, are two very different ques
tions. That we cannot perform the conditions
of salvation, I readily allow; but that we are
invincibly impelled to every species of crime,
is insupportable. Whence then came the dif
ference between heathen and heathen, between
Fabricius and Lucullus, between Augustus and
Sylla, between Nero and Titus, between Corn-
modus and Antony? Whatever you are able to
do by your natural strength, and especially
when aided by the light of revelation, do it, if
you wish to have any well-founded hope of ob
taining the supernatural aids, without which
you cannot fulfil the conditions of your salva
tion. But the Scriptures declare, you say, that
without the grace of the Holy Spirit you can
do nothing, and that you can have no real vir
tue but what participates of your natural cor
ruption: I allow it; but practice the virtues
which participate of your natural corruption,
if you would wish God to grant you his divine
aids. Be corrupt as Fabricius, and not as Lu
cullus; be corrupt as Augustus, and not as Syl
la; be corrupt as Titus, and not as Nero; as An-
tonius, and not as Commodus. One of the
grand reasons why God withholds from some
men the aids of grace, is, because they resist
the aids they might derive from their frail na
ture. Here the theology of St. Paul, and the
decision of that great preceptor in grace, im
poses silence on every difficulty of which this
point may be susceptible. Speaking of the
heathens in the first chapter of his epistle to
the Romans, he says, "That which may be
known of God is manifested in them;" or, as I
would rather read, is manifest to them; " but
because that when they knew God, they glo
rified him not as God, neither .were thankful,"
Rom. i. 19 — 21. "That which may be known
of God is manifested unto them;'^here then is
the aid pagans might draw from the ruins of
nature; they might know that there was a God;
they might have been thankful for his temporal
gifts, for rain and fruitful seasons; and instead
of the infamous idolatry to which they aban
don themselves, they might have seen the invi
sible things of God, which are manifest by his
work. And because they did not derive those
aids from the ruins of nature, they became
wholly unworthy of divine assistance; " God
gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts
of their own hearts. — They changed the truth
of God into a lie, and worshipped and served
the creature more than the Creator, who is
blessed for ever."

SER. XCVIIL]

ON REGENERATION.

399

5. Our fifth proposition imports, that the aids
of the Holy Spirit promised to man are gra
dually imparted; hence, to misapply the grace
we have, is the most dangerous way to obstruct
the reception of fresh support. But listen to
some of our supralapsarians, and they will say,
that the design of God in promising these aids,
is to assure us that how much soever we shall
resist one measure of grace, he will still give us
a greater measure, and ever proportion the
counterpoise of grace to that of a deliberate,
obstinate, voluntary enemy. So many have
understood the doctrine of our church respect
ing irresistible grace; to judge of it consonant
to their ideas, this grace redoubles its efforts as
the sinner redoubles his revolts; so that he who
shall throw the greatest obstacles in its way,
shall be the very man who shall have the fair
est claims to its richest profusion.

Poor Christians! are these your conceptions
of religion? My God! is it thus thy gospel is
understood? I hope, my brethren, that not
any one of us shall have cause to recognise
himself in this portrait; for I am bold to aver,
that of all the most heterodox opinions, and
the most hostile to the genius of the gospel,
the one I have just put into the mouth of cer
tain Christians, is that which really surpasses
them all. On the contrary, he who opposes
the greatest obstacles to the operations of
grace, is precisely the man who must expect
the smallest share of it. Grace diminishes its
efforts in proportion as the sinner redoubles his
resistance. Obstinate revolt against its first
operations, is the sure way to be deprived of
the second; and the usual cause which deprives
us of it, is the want of co-operation with its
true design.

6. We are now come to the last proposi
tion, with which we shall close this discourse.
However unworthy we may be of the divine
assistance, and whatever abuse we may have
made of it, we should never despair of its aids.
We do not say this to flatter the lukewarm-
ness of man, and to soothe his shameful delay
of conversion; on the contrary, if there be a
doctrine which can prompt us to diligence; if
there be a doctrine which can induce us to de
vote the whole time of our life to the work of
salvation, it is the one we have just announced
in this discourse, and made the subject of our
two preceding sermons. We have considered
three points in the conversation of Jesus Christ
with Nicodemus; the nature, the necessity, and
the Author of the " new birth." And what is
there in all this which does not tend to sap
the delay of conversion?

Let each of you recollect, as far as memory
is able, what Jesus Christ has taught, and
what we have taught after him, on the subject
of regeneration. This work does not consist
in a certain superficial change which may be
made in a moment: in that case, it would suf
fice to have a skilful physician, and to com
mission him to warn us of the moment when
we must leave the world, that we may devote
that precise moment to the work of our salva
tion. But the regeneration which Jesus Christ
requires, is an entire transformation; a change
of ideas, a change of desires, a change of
hopes, a change of taste, a change in the
schemes of happiness. How then does the

system of delaying conversion accord with this
idea? What time would yot allow for this
change and reformation? A month? a week? a
day? the last extremity of a mortal malady?
What! in so short a time would you consum
mate a work to which the longest life would
hardly suffice? And in what circumstances
would you do it! In delirium; in the agonies
of death; at a time when one is incapable of
the smallest application; at a time when we
can scarce admit among the attendants, a
friend, a child, whom we love as our own life;
at a time when the smallest business appears
as a world of difficulty?

But if what we have now said, after this
" teacher come from God," on the nature of
regeneration, has begun to excite some scru
ples in your mind concerning the plan of de
laying conversion, let each of you recall, as
far as he is able, what Jesus Christ has said,
and what we have said, following him, con
cerning the necessity of regeneration: for since
you are obliged to confess that regeneration
cannot be the work of the last moments of
life, I ask, on what ground you found the sys
tem of delaying conversion? Do you flatter
yourselves that God will be so fay satisfied
with your superficial efforts towards regenera
tion, as to excuse the genuine change? Do
you hope that this general declaration of the
Saviour, " Verily, verily, I say unto you, ex
cept a man be born again, he cannot enter the
kingdom of God," shall have an exception
with regard to you? have then the reflections
we made in our second discourse against this
chimerical notion, made no impression on you?
Do we preach to rational beings? or do we
preach to stocks and stones? Have ye not
perceived that regeneration is founded on the
genius of the gospel; and that every doctrine
of it is comprised in the proposition, " Verily,
verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born
again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
It is founded on the nature of man, and on
the proposed design of Jesus Christ to make
him happy; and the acquisition of this end
would imply a contradiction, if a man should
revolt at the change and the reformation; be
cause, since the loss of primitive innocence,
our state is become our calamity; and it would
mply a contradiction that we should be de
livered from our calamity, unless we should
delivered from our state. It is founded on
the nature of God himself: of the two, God
nust either renounce his perfections, or we
must renounce our imperfections; and if I may
dare so to speak of my Maker, God must
either regenerate himself, or we must regene
rate ourselves.

Upon what then do you found your hopes
of conversion on a death-bed? Upon the aids
of that grace without which you never can be
converted? But does the manner in which we
lave just described those aids, afford you any
lope of obtaining them, when you shall have
obstinately and maliciously resisted them to
the end?

Meanwhile, I maintain my last proposition;
[ maintain that however unworthy you may
have rendered yourselves of divine aid, you
ought never to despair of obtaining it. Yes,
though you should have resisted the Hoi 7

400

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

. XCV111.

Ghost to the end of life; though you should
have but one hour to live, devote it; call in
your ministers; offer up prayers, and take the
kingdom of heaven by violence! We will not
deprive you of this the only hope which can
remain: we will not exclude you from the final
avenues of grace. Perhaps your last efforts
may have effect; perhaps your prayers shall
be heard; perhaps the Holy Spirit will give
effect to the exhortations of his ministers; and,
to say all in a single word, perhaps God will
work a miracle in your favour, and deviate
from the rules he is accustomed to follow in
the conversion of other men.

Perhaps; ah! my brethren, how little con
solation does this word afford -in the great
events of life; and less consolation still when
applied to our salvation! Perhaps; ah! how
little is that word capable of consoling a soul
when it has to contend with death. My bre
thren, we can never consent to make your
salvation depend on a perhaps; we cannot see
that you would have any other hope of salva
tion than that of a man, who throws himself
from a tower; a man actually descending in
the air, that may be saved by a miracle, but
he has so many causes to fear the contrary.
We cannot see that you would have any other
ground of hope than that of a man who is
under the axe of the executioner, whose arm
is uplifted, which may indeed be held by a
celestial hand; but how many reasons excite
alarm that he will strike the fatal blow! We
would wish to be able to say to each of you,
"fear not," Mark v. 30. We would wish
that each of you could say to himself, " I
know; I am persuaded;" 2 Tim. i. 12. Second
our wishes: labour; pray; pray without ceas
ing; labour during the whole of life. This is
the only means of producing that gracious as
surance and delightful persuasion. May God
bless your efforts, and hear our prayers. Amen.
To whom be honour and glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON XCVIII.

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

PART III.
[NOW FIRST TRANSLATED.]

JOHN iii. 5 — 7.

Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto 'thee,
except a man be born of water, and of the Spirit,
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That
which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that
which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel
not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again.
IT is a sublime idea that the prophets give
of the change which the preaching of the gos
pel should effectuate in the earth, when they
represent it under the figure of a new crea
tion: " Behold I create new heavens, and a
new earth; and the former things shall not be
remembered," Isa. Ixv. 17. These new hea
vens, and this new earth, my brethren, must
have new inhabitants. It would imply an ab
surdity for God to unite the disorders of the
okt world with the felicities of the new crea

tion. " If any man be in Christ, he is a new
creature; old things are past away, and behold
all things are become new," 2 Cor. v. 17.

This was the change which Jesus Christ an
nounced to Nicodemus, though the Rabbi could
not comprehend it. How explicit soever the
declarations of the prophets had been on this
subject; however familiar their style was among
the Jews, regeneration, to regenerate a new
man, were terms whose import Nicodemus
could not distinguish. He flattered himself
that it sufficed for admission into the commu
nion of the Messiah, to acknowledge the au
thenticity of his mission, the sublimity of his
doctrine, and the superiority of his miracles.
" Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher
come from God, for no man can do those rnira
cles that thou dost, except God be with him."
He hoped that this avowal would conciliate
the esteem of Jesus Christ, while it equally
preserved that of the Jews. He flattered him
self with having found the just mean of
distinction between that of his persecutors,
and his disciples. Jesus Christ undeceived him
in the words upon which our discourse must
devolve. No, no, said he; God requires no
such conduct; to him all accommodations are
odious; you must choose, either to perish with
those who fight against me, or become reno
vated with those who account it their glory to
fight under my stewards. " Verily, verily, I
say unto thee, except a man be born again, he
cannot see the kingdom of God. Marvel not
that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.
Art thou a doctor of the law, and knowest
thou not these things?"

We said sometime ago, that one must not
confound the change which the gospel requires
of a weak and diffident Christian, with that
which it requires of a man who has not as yet
embraced religion, as it would be wrong to say
of some who hear us, and who, notwithstand
ing their weakness and diffidence, are really
members of Christ, that they shall not enter
the kingdom of God, unless they are born
again. But can we doubt, that among the
many who compose the circles of Christian
society, among the many who compose this
congregation, there are many who are in the
error of Nicodemus? Can we doubt that many
of you also, like this doctor, still divide your
selves between God and the world; and who
flatter themselves to have the essence of Chris
tianity, when they have but the exterior name.
It is to men of this class, that we address our
selves in this discourse. We proceed conforma
bly to the example of our great Master to
make an effort to open their eyes, and show
them the inutility of this semi-Christianity to
whjch their views are circumscribed; and de
clare, " verily, verily, except a man* be born
again, he cannot enter the kingdom of God."

It is thus we shall continue the execution of
the plan formed in our first discourse. We
there remarked three things in the conversa
tion of Jesus Christ with Nicodemus: the na
ture of regeneration; the necessity of regenera
tion; and the Author of regeneration. The
first of these articles we have already discuss
ed: we now proceed to the second, and relying
on the aids of God already implored, and
which we still implore with all the powers

SER. XCVIIL]

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

401

of our souls, we proceed to enforce the neces
sity of regeneration, whose nature and charac
ters we have already described.

We take it for granted, that this expression
so familiar in our Scriptures, " the kingdom
of God," or " the kingdom of heaven," can
not be wholly unknown to you. The Hebrews
substitute heaven for God (and this mode of
speaking is common enough in all languages;)
hence come the expressions which abound in
our writings, the aids of Heaven for the aids
of God; and death inflicted by the hand of
Heaven, for the hand of God. Just so, the
kingdom of heaven, and the kingdom of God,
are two phrases promiscuously used in the
New Testament. I forbear more texts, which
would only waste the time destined for truths
more important and more controverted.

Now, this expression, "the kingdom of
God," can have but one of those two mean
ings, of the most common occurrence in our
Scriptures. It may signify either the economy
of the Messiah, which the prophet Daniel re
presents under the idea of a kingdom, or the
felicity of the blessed. The first is the import
of our Saviour's words, Matthew the xiith;
" If I had cast out devils by the Spirit of God,
then the kingdom of God is come unto you."
That is to say, if I have received of God the
gift of miraculous powers; if I eject demons
by the power of God, you may be fully assur
ed that the Advent of the Messiah, which you
have awaited with so much desire, is come
unto you; it being impossible that God should
lend his Almighty power to an impostor.

This expression, " the kingdom of God,"
signifies also the state of the blessed. So it
must be understood in the encomium which
our Saviour pronounced on the great faith of a
heathen centurion. "Verily, I say unto you,
that many shall come from the east, and from
the west, and shall sit down with Abraham,
and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of hea
ven;" that is, many of those gentiles who were
then " without God, and without hope in the
world," shall be admitted with Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob, to the celestial felicity, re
presented in our Scriptures by the idea of a
feast. We think ourselves authorized to take
this expression in the first of the meanings we
here just assigned it: " Except a man be born
of water and of the Spirit, he shall not enter
the kingdom of God;" that is, to become a
member of the church of Christ, he must be
born again; but if any one will adhere to the
latter sense, we feel no interest in disputing
the point. Jesus Christ requires us to teach,
that his communion affords no mean of attain
ing eternal happiness, but that of regenera
tion. The distinction has nothing that should
stop us: to have named it, is enough; perhaps
too much.

Let us come at once to the essential point,
tmd prove that this regeneration is absolutely
necessary to become a Christian, or as I have
said, to attain to celestial happiness. This we
shall prove by three arguments.

I. The first is taken from the genius of the
Christian religion.

II. The second from the wants of man.

III. The third from the perfections of God.
I. From the genius of the Christian religion.

VOL. II — 51

All the principles of the Christian religion,
are in direct opposition to the principles of the
unregenerate. It is not possible to embrace
the Christian religion, without being born again
in the sense we have given to this expression.
What is the sense given to this figurative
phrase, born again, in our first discourse? In
what does the truth of the metaphor consist?
A change of ideas; a change of desires; a
change of taste; a change of hope; a change
of pursuits. Examine the nature of the Chris
tian religion, and you will at once see that its
principles are directly opposed to those of the
unregenerate; and that the religion of a man
which rejects conversion as to any one of these
five points, be it which it may, is a religion di
rectly opposed to that of Jesus Christ.

1. The religion of a man who rejects a
change of ideas is a religion directly opposed
to that of Jesus Christ. The change of ideas
here in question, consists, as already explained,
not indeed in the renunciation of reason, but
in a persuasion that the best possible use a ra
tional being can make of reason, is to allow it
to lead him to God, who is the source of all
intelligence. Now, it is demonstrated by the
nature of the Christian religion, that without
this disposition of mind, no man can be a
Christian.

The Christian religion teaches us two sorts
of truths, some which lie open to Our ideas,
and which the mind of man may discover by
its own efforts; but which on the coming of
Jesus Christ were so beclouded with obscurity,
and with innumerable prejudices, as to require
energies almost more than human to penetrate
them. Such were the doctrines of a provi
dence, the immortality of the soul, a judgment,
a future state, and some others. The object
of the Christian religion has been to substitute
divine authority for that of discussion. You
cannot fully demonstrate the doctrine of a pro
vidence, because of the obscurity in which it
is involved. This doctrine is decided in the
gospel: hear the words of Jesus Christ. " The
hairs of your head are numbered: God feeds the
ravens; a sparrow falls not to the ground with
out his will." You cannot fully demonstrate
the doctrines of the immortality of the soul,
and of a future state, because of the darkness
in which they are enveloped. Jesus Christ
has decided these points. Hear his words:
" The wicked shall go away into everlasting
fire, but the righteous into life eternal." It is
the same with regard to other doctrines. In
this Respect, it seems quite clear to me, that
the principles of the unregenerate are incom
patible with the design of the Christian reli
gion. Because its designs on all these points
being to supply by authority that of discussion,
no man can be a Christian who does not sub
mit to the authority by which they are decid
ed. The temper of a man who will believe
nothing, admit nothing, but what can be de
monstrated by the efforts of his own mind, is
directly opposed to the design of the Chris
tian religion; hence, on this point, a man must
be born again before he can enter the kingdom
of God: the religion of the unregenerate, and
that of the Christian, are not only different,
but directly opposed.

The second order of truths revealed by the

402

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

. XCVIII.

Christian religion are altogether above the
sphere of the human understanding, and which
our reason would never have discovered,
though it had been perfectly exempted from
error and prejudice. Such are all those that
relate to the means God has chosen for the re
demption of the human kind. God alone
could reveal those, because none but God
could know what he had chosen. This is the
doctrine of all the sacred authors; it is par
ticularly that of St. Paul, in the second chap
ter of his first Epistle to the Corinthians.
" The wisdom that we preach," he says, " is
not the wisdom of this world, nor of the princes
of this world:" (by the princes of this world I
here understand doctors of the first rank, whe
ther they were Rabbins, which in Hebrew
means masters, or whether princes imports
philosophers,) " but we speak the hidden wis
dom of God in a mystery;" that is, hidden.
Why is this the wisdom of God? Why is it a
mystery? Because none but the God who had
formed it could have discovered it, and no man
could reason out those things by the efforts of
his own understanding. The apostle adds,
these are the things, " that eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard; neither have entered into the
heart of man, the things that God hath pre
pared for them that love him:" that is to say,
these are plans of God's sovereign pleasure,
in favour of the faithful. Now, the plans
which God had formed by his sovereign plea
sure, the t; things which had not entered into
the heart of man, God hath revealed to us by
his Spirit; by the Spirit which searcheth the
deep things of God," and most impenetrable
to man; as the rnind of man is conscious of its
own designs, and most impenetrable to others.
" For what man knoweth the things of a man,
save the spirit of man which is in him; even
so, the things of God knoweth no man save
the Spirit of God."

The design of the gospel with regard to
truths of the second order has been to substi
tute authority for reason, to substitute the de
cisions of Jesus Christ for the natural weak
ness of man, who is inadequate to discover
these things. One cannot therefore be a Chris
tian unless one bow down to divine authority.
By consequence, to be a Christian one must be
born again, and change our ideas; hence the
religion of the unregenerate, and that of a
Christian are not only different, but incom
patible.

What we have said on the change of^jdeas
we equally affirm with regard to the other
changes, in which we have made the nature
of regeneration to consist: but the limits of
our time, and the importance of the subjects,
which remain for discussion, prevent our prov
ing it in all its extent.

2. An unregenerate man follows his own
will, and admits no rule of conduct, but that
of his passio*ns. He becomes attached to vir
tue, when it may happen to be in unison with
his humour, with his disposition, with his
worldly interests. But these principles are
wholly incompatible with those of a Christian,
who has vowed, on embracing Christianity, to
renounce his own will, and to acknowledge no
rule of conduct but the laws of Christ; and to
become attached to holiness, whether it may

be coincident or revolting to his humour, his
disposition, and his temporal interests.

3. An unregenerate man has no taste but
for the pleasures of the age. But this princi
ple is incompatible with the principles of our
religion, which is designated to purify our
taste, and render us alive to pleasures more
worthy of the excellence of the soul.

4. An unregenerate man founds his hopes
on second causes; on the favour of the great,
on the course of the winds, on the fertility of
fields, on the prosperity of trade. But these
principles are incompatible with the design of
our holy religion, which prompts us to found
our hopes solely on the Divine favour, and ele
vate the soul above dependence on all created
good.

5. An unregenerate man forms projects of
terrestrial happiness. He says, as the world
lings in the 4th Psalm, Who will make " our
corn and wine to increase?" Who will aug
ment our revenues? Who will amplify our
fortunes? Who will give us the lustre of a
name, and the glare of reputation? Who will
gratify this mad ambition which absorbs the
soul, and prompts us to trample on our species,
and look on men who have, in common with
ourselves, the same Creator, the same faculties,
the same grandeur, and the same baseness, as
diminutive worms unworthy of our regards.
But these principles are incompatible with our
holy religion, whose grand design is to inspire
us with the sentiments of confiding in God
alone the care of our happiness, how difficult
soever the road may appear in which he calls
us to walk.

II. We have proved from the nature of our
holy religion that to be a Christian, we must
be born again; let us now prove it by what is
requisite for the happiness of man; let us
prove, that God in giving us a religion which
appeared so rigorous, has not acted as a tyrant,
but as a lenient legislator, and a compassionate
Father, whose sole design was to provide for
the wants of his creatures. This appears at
first insupportable. It seems that the love of
God would have shone in the gospel with quite
a different lustre had it been his pleasure to ex
ercise over us a sovereignty less despotic; had
he left us the uncontrolled disposal of our fa
culties, and had he been mindful to dispense
with those renovations which cost so much to
the flesh. I am confident, however, of demon
strating to you, that had God relaxed any part
of this pretended rigour, he must have re
trenched it from your happiness.

The happiness of man demands that religion
should effectuate a change in his ideas in the
sense already explained; the happiness of man
demands that Jesus Christ himself should con
descend to exercise a sovereign control over
our reason, and himself decide whatever we
ought to believe on the subject of religion.
To the proof of this we now proceed.

One of the most dangerous, and at the same
time the most cruel, dispositions of the mind,
is to revoke in doubt the fundamental truths
of religion. Assuredly this is one of the most
dangerous, for that doubt plunges us into one
abyss after another. The speculative truths
of religion are the basis on which the practical
are supported. The basis of this practical

SER. XCVIIL]

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

403

truth, that we must detest injustice, is a belief
that there is a God who detests it. If you
hesitate with regard to the speculative truth,
that there is a God who detests injustice, you
will hesitate with regard to the practical truth,
that we ought to detest injustice. — The founda
tion of this practical truth, that we ought not
to love the world, devolves on the speculative
truth, that the friendship of this world draws
down the enmity of God. If then you should
hesitate with regard to the speculative truth,
that the friendship of this world attracts the
enmity of God, you would hesitate with re
gard to the practical truth that we ought not
to love the world, Jam. iv. 4.

But it is equally cruel as dangerous, to che
rish doubts With regard to the fundamental
doctrines of religion. You do not feel the
cruelty of this disposition, now that you have
a little health, a little strength, and a share of
prosperity; you consider the game of life which
you play, as the most important subject that
can occupy your mind: but when you shall
enter into yourselves; when you shall extend
your views beyond your senses, and the con
fined circle of surrounding objects; ah! when
you shall arrive at the period in which the
world shall present nothing but a scene about
to vanish away; Oh! my God! how cruel will
those doubts then appear! when you shall be
unable to satisfy your mind on those most im
portant inquiries. Am I only a material sub
stance, or is this material substance united to a
spiritual substance? Will this spiritual sub
stance to which my body is united be involved
in its dissolution, or will it rise above its ruins?
Is the religion to which I have adhered, the re
ligion of Jesus Christ, or is it the religion of
anti-christ?

But is it possible for one to avoid a disposi
tion so dangerous and cruel when one has no
other guide in the theory of religion than one's
own ideas? I know that all men have propen
sities to religion on coming into the world; I
know that " the gentiles who have not the law,
are a law unto themselves." But after having
seriously meditated on the confined limits of
my understanding, on the force of my preju
dices, on the rashness of my decisions, and on so
many other truths which induce me to distrust
myself: when after having been profoundly en
gaged in these reflections, I find myself called
upon to determine by my own light on the
grand question of religion; when I transport
myself into the midst of all those systems to
which the imagination of men has given birth;
when I find myself called upon to dissipate all
those chaoses, to develope all those sophisms,
and take a decided part among so many con
troversies, and learned characters; when I find
myself, as before stated, left to determine by
my own efforts whether the soul be immortal,
whether the^e be a Providence; and especially
when I say to myself, that on the manner in
which I shall determine these questions my
everlasting happiness or misery depends, that
to deceive myself is to destroy myself, and
that there can scarcely be a mistake on these
grand points which may not be fatal; I frankly
avow that I fall under the weight, and that the
terror only excited by the magnitude of the
task imposed, deprives me of the courage of

undertaking it, and reduces me to an incapa
bility of discharging it.

In this state Jesus Christ extends to me hia
hand. I find a religion which demonstrates
its divine authority by proofs so adapted to my
capacity, that a serious attention, aided by a
moderate capacity, suffices to perceive its force.
I find a religion which guides me to eternal
life. I understand this truth which decides on
all the propositions, on whose account I had
doubts so cruel and dangerous: this truth sub
stitutes, if one may so speak, the Spirit of
God for the knowledge of man; it requires that
truths so important, which have so great an in
fluence on my happiness, shall not be decided
by the wisdom of man, but by the spirit and
wisdom cf God. Let us acknowledge it, my
brethren, let us acknowledge that there is no
thing more assortable to the wants of man
than a religion formed on this plan; there is no
thing we can more desire than the like tribunal;
and there is nothing more advantageous than
an entire submission to its decisions.

But if the happiness of man demand that
religion should require a change of his ideas in
the sense we have explained, it equally requires
that he should change the objects of his pur
suits. What men could wish, as most advan
tageous, is, that Jesus Christ should condescend
to leave to themselves the sole care of their
happiness. Two considerations withhold our
assent to this notion. The first is, that we are
not sufficiently aware of our ignorance when
we form imaginary schemes of happiness; the
second is, that we have no idea of the manner
in which the Saviour loves, nor in what re
spects he really loves mankind.

1. Let us acknowledge our ignorance with
regard to the schemes of happiness. Do we
really know in what true happiness consists?
we who do not know ourselves; we who do
not know to what extent the faculties of the
soul may be improved; we who know not of
what operations an intelligent being is capable
who has ideas but of two or three substances,
and who wants information to know, whether
there are ten thousand substances besides those
we know; we who have had but perception of
a few sensations, and who could not form any
sort of notions of an infinity of others; of
whose attainment our souls are susceptible?
Do we really know in what happiness consists?
We, who resemble those clowns who have
never gone beyond their village or hamlet, and
who^affect to judge of politeness, of high life,
of courtly airs, of polished manners, of real
grandeur, conformably to the ideas formed of
them in those hamlets and villages? Do we
know in what true happiness consists? We, who
have never gone from the little spot of the uni
verse where the Creator placed, but not con
fined us; we, who have never joined the choirs
of angels, of archangels, of cherubim, of se
raphim? We, who have never been in the hea
venly city of God, in the Jerusalem from
above, where the Divinity discovers the most
glorious marks of his presence, receives the
adorations of the myriads who serve him, and
are continually in his presence? — Do we know
in what true happiness consists? We, whose
taste is spoiled by intercourse with corruptible
beings, with the avaricious, who think to be

404

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

[San. XCVIII.

happy by making their heaps of gold and silver;
with the impure, who think that happiness con
sists in impudence, and in violating the bound
aries of modesty; with the vain and haughty,
who think that to be happy one must be able
to trace a pedigree with kings and princes in
the line of our ancestors; and that a connexion
with worms of earth, with dust, with those
phantoms of grandeur, can make us truly
great' — Do we know in what true happiness
consists? No, Lord, if thou should this day
place my destiny in my own choice; if thou
should bid me form for myself whatever kind
of happiness I should please; if thou should
place before me the whole scale of grandeur
and glory, leaving me at full liberty to take
whatever portion I might please, I would en
treat thee still to let me retain those bonds with
which I willingly fettered myself on embracing
religion; I would address to thee the most ar
dent prayers, not to leave my felicity in hands
so bad as mine, and that thou alone should be
the dispenser of my happiness.

2. But we should especially feel how saluta
ry it is, that Jesus Christ should require us to
renounce ourselves with regard to schemes of
happiness, if we knew the greatness of his love
to men. Yes, my brethren, if we fully knew
this love, we should leave all to its decision.
Venture, O my soul, on this ocean of love
that thy Saviour expands in the gospel; lose
thyself in the immensity of the love of God;
make vigorous efforts to attain "to its length
and breadth, its height and depth, which pass-
eth knowledge." O think of what thy Re
deemer has done for thee. Think, that in the
bosom of the Father, enjoying infinity of de
lights, he thought of thee. Think, that he
has come to thee, that he has clothed himself
with thy infirmities; that he has placed him
self in the breach before the tribunal of his
Father; that he has covered thee with his per
son that the arrows shot by celestial anger
might not reach thee, but stick fast in himself
alone; think that when enduring those tor
ments which men and demons caused him to
suffer, he sustained himself by the thought
that his sufferings and death would render a
creature happy who to him was unspeakably
dear; think, that from the height of glory to
which he was exalted after having finished the
work the Father had given him to do, he cast
bis eyes on thee, makes thy salvation his grand
concern, and tastes redoubled delights of feli
city by the thought, that thou must become a
joint-heir with him. Lose thyself in this most
delightful, this ravishing thought, and see, see
«now whether there be any thing hard, any
thing difficult, any thing which ought not to
transport thee with joy in the conditions which
thy Saviour imposes, of sacrificing to him thy
imaginary schemes of happiness, and leaving
thy condition wholly to his love.

• Is it then, speaking absolutely, beyond the
Divine omnipotence to harmonize our happi
ness with our concupiscence? If God had testi
fied a greater lenity towards our defects than
what he has revealed in the gospel; if he had
deigned to receive us into favour with our
errors, prejudices, our passions, our caprices;
•and if after we have indulged during life in
'he pleasures of frhe age, he would have con

ferred upon us the pleasures of eternity reserv
ed for virtue, could he not in this case have
made a better provision for the happiness of
man? That is to say, that because you have
obstinately adhered to your sins, you would
have God cease to be just; that is to say, be
cause you have refused to be holy, you would
have the Holy One become an accomplice in
your crimes; to say all in a word, because you
would not change your corrupt nature, you
would have him cease to be holy, who is all
pure, all holy; I would say, purity and holi
ness itself. For I do contend, that when the
degree of indulgence which God has extended
to sinners in the gospel, is fully viewed, he
could not have extended it farther, without lay
ing aside his perfections. This is what was
understood when we indicated the necessity of
regeneration for our third head, as founded on
the attributes of God. This part demands our
serious attention. I will therefore proceed t<r
considerations of another kind, provided those
among you who have formed the habit of
thought and reflection, will deign to follow me
in this short meditation.

III. The finest idea that we can form of the
Divinity; and at the same time, that which is
the foundation of the confidence we place in
his word, and the assurance with which we
rely on his promises, is that of a uniform Be
ing, whose attributes have the exactest har
mony, and who is always in perfect accordance
with himself. The want of harmony is cha
racteristic of the greatest imperfection in a
finite intelligence; that when one of his attri
butes is opposed to another, or even at vari
ance with itself; when his wisdom fails to se
cond, or rather to support his power, in such
sort, that though he has means to collect ma
terials for building a town, yet he may want
the talent of arrangement; or, though he may
have the wisdom of arrangement, yet he may
be destitute of power to collect the materials.
It is the same in all like cases. This charac
ter of imperfection, inseparable from all creat
ed intelligences, is the cause of all our disap
pointments whenever we have placed our con
fidence in an arm of flesh. " Put not your
trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in
whom there is no help. His breath goeth
forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very
day his thoughts perish. Cursed be the ma»
that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his
arm." Ps. cxlvi. 3, 4; Jer. xvii. 6. Why so?
Because we cannot safely trust a being unless
he has the harmony of the perfections of which
we have spoken, and because this harmony is
never found in man. His power may be fa
vourable to you; but his wisdom failing in the
support of his power, he may make you mise
rable by the very means he employs to make
you happy. His power also may not act in
unison with his wisdom. Though he may to
day be adequate to your wants, he may not be
so to-morrow. This man, this first of men,
who lives to-day, may die to-morrow; the
breath which animates him, may be gone; he
may return to earth, and all his flattering de
signs to promote your happiness shall vanish
away. But this harmony of attributes, which
cannot be found in the creatures, may be found
in the Creator.

SER. XCVIIL]

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

405

This principle being established, I discover,
my brethren, in the perfections of God a new
source of reasons for the doctrines already ad
vanced; and I ask, which of the two religions
best represents the Divinity as a Being, whose
attributes are exactly harmonized, and ever in
perfect unison with himself? Is it the religion
of the regenerate, or that of the unregenerate?

When is it that the power of God is in per
fect accordance with the wisdom of God? It
is when his wisdom destines to a certain end,
the things proper for that end, which his
power has produced. This is the idea of the
Divinity every where found in the religion of
the regenerate. God has provided in the gos
pel whatever is requisite to make us holy;
light, motives, examples, aids. These are the
effects of his power. The things which his
power has afforded, so proper to make us holy,
he has connected with their destination. God
requires that we should be holy; these are the
effects of his wisdom. Here is the harmony
of his wisdom with his power; while, on the
contrary, in the religion of the unregenerate
there exists not the smallest trace of harmony
between his wisdom and his power. God con
fers upon us in the gospel every requisite to
make us saints: here is an effect of his power:
but if he should dispense with our being made
holy, what would become of his wisdom?

When is it that the goodness of God ac
cords with his justice? It is when the rights
of his justice are not invaded by the effects of
his goodness. This is the idea of the Divinity
which is given by the religion of the regene
rate. God saves sinners; here is the effect of
his goodness: but it is on condition of their re
nouncing sin; here is the right of his justice.
See now the harmony of justice and goodness.
On the contrary, in the religion of the unre
generate there exists no harmony between
goodness and justice. God saves sinners; here
is the effect of his goodness: but should he dis
pense with their being saved from sin, what
would become of his justice?

When does the justice of God appear to ac
cord with his goodness? It is when testifying
his love of order on one occasion, he evinces
no indifference for order on another occasion.
This is the idea of the religion of the regene
rate! His love of order has appeared in the
most striking manner in the satisfaction he has
required of the Redeemer. This love is de
monstrated by the conditions under which he
proposes to rescue the fruits of his passion.
On the contrary, in the religion of the unre
generate, there is not the slightest harmony
between his justice and his goodness. He re
quires of the Redeemer a perfect satisfaction.
Here is the effect of his love of order. If he
put the redeemed in possession of the fruit of
his passion, however rebellious their passions,
however execrable their purposes, however no
torious their ingratitude, where would be his
love of order? where would be the harmony of
his goodness with his justice?

Let us therefore conclude, that unless God
should renounce his perfections, unless he
should set one attribute at variance with an
other, and sometimes the same attribute at
variance with itself, he cannot save hardened
sinners, without changing his own nature;

without setting one of his perfections against
another, and even the same perfection against
itself. And if the same perfection of God be
at variance with itself, if one perfection be in
opposition to another, if God must renounce
himself, if the perfect nature of the Divinity
be liable to change, as is supposed b}' the sys
tem I now attack, how can we in future repose
confidence in his word? How can we venture
on his promises? Let a God imperfect ami
contradictory be once supposed, (and such he
is in your system,) let it once be supposed,
that he has said you may enter heaven with
out regeneration, and all faith in his word, and
reliance on his promises must for ever cease.

Thus, what we pledged ourselves to prove,
we have endeavoured to execute; that to be a
Christian, we must be born again. But we
fear lest a remark we made in our first dis
course, and which was repeated at the begin
ning of this, should frustrate our expectation.
The proposition of our Saviour " ye must be
born again," we said, ought to be restricted;
that the term ought riot to be applied indiffer
ently to all; that it regarded those only whose
sins separate them from his table; that one
must not confound the change Jesus Christ re
quires of a man who is not a Christian, but
would embrace religion, with that which he
requires of a weak Christian who recovers
from his defects.

This remark, then, so requisite to illustrate
the nature of regeneration, does it not en
feeble, in some of our minds, the necessity of
the change we proposed to establish? The
evasions of the heart are innumerable, and
when the multitude of those Christians is con
sidered to whom " our gospel is hid, because
the god of this world hath blinded their
mind," I fear lest many nominal Christians
should reason in this way: at least, so far as
to say, that what we enforce concerning the
necessity of regeneration does not concern
them. I belong to a Christian congregation,
and though some farther reformation must yet
be effectuated in my conduct, it is only such
as Jesus Christ requires of the weak and wan
dering Christian; I am not the character which
he requires to be born again. My brethren, if
I have opened a breach, I must endeavour to
heal it; if I have given occasion to false infer
ences, I must endeavour to correct them; if I
have preached the necessity of regeneration in
general, I must now preach it in particular, and
as applicable to Nicodemus, to whom Jesus
Christ spake; and in drawing the character of
many of my hearers, and say to them as the
Saviour said to Nicodemus, " marvel not that
I said unto thee, ye must be born again; Verily,
verily, I say unto thee, that except a man be
born again, he cannot enter the kingdom of
God."

What was the character of Nicodemus? Ni
codemus was one of those men who temporize
between Christ and the world; whose minds
are sufficiently enlightened to know the truth,
but who have not a sufficiency of courage to
honour it, except it can be done without dan
ger; who would indeed be saved, but who can
not find resolution ' to make all the sacrifices
which salvation requires; who come to Christ,
but they come by night; who are Christians in

406

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

[SER. XCVIII.

judgment
Jews.

, but they dare not avow it to the

What was the idea which Jesus Christ
formed of the real state of this ruler in Israel?
What duties did he impose upon him? On
what conditions did he receive him for a dis
ciple? Did he regard him as already a Chris
tian? Did he require merely the change which
subsists in a weak and wavering Christian, or
the change indispensable in one who is yet in
a carnal state? Did he prescribe the merely
superficial change, or require the transforma
tion of a new birth? It is not you, my bre
thren, but the gospel, which gives the answers
to these inquiries. Jesus Christ said to this
doctor, to this man, who was a teacher from
God, to this man whose mind was enlightened
to know the truth, to this man who wished to
be saved, who came to him, and who was a
Christian in judgment; Jesus Christ said, " Ex
cept a man be born again he cannot enter the
kingdom of God. Marvel not that I said un
to thee, ye must be born again."

But why did the Saviour address the ruler
in so decided a manner? Because the ruler
was a Christian in judgment, and would not
be one in conduct; because this man came to
him by night, and would not come by day; be
cause this man wished to be saved, and would
not make the sacrifices which salvation requir
ed; because this man was sufficiently enlight
ened to know the truth, and had not courage
to avow the truth; and to say all in one word,
because this man was a servant of God by
profession, and at the same time a servant of
the world; because such a man, according to
the morality of Jesus Christ, cannot be a
Christian; I would say, he cannot, conformably
to the new covenant, be a member of the
Christian church. " Verily, verily, I say unto
thee, except a man be born again he cannot
enter the kingdom of God. Marvel not that
I said unto thee, ye must be born again. Art
thou a master in Israel, and knowest not these
things?"

APPLICATION.

Conclude then, my brethren; preach, and
make yourselves the application of this dis
course: see then to what end you pervert our
doctrine, that one must not confound the
change Jesus Christ requires in a man who
has not yet embraced Christianity, with that
he requires of a weak and inconstant believer!
But ah! we must not abandon so important a
conclusion to the caprice of man; it belongs to
us to enforce it; it belongs to us to make its
whole evidence, its whole propriety felt as
much as is in our power; it belongs to us to
unite our whole mind, and strength, and voice,
to dissipate, if possible, so many evasions which
the most part of us cease not to oppose to the
decisions of eternal truth.

First, the whole of what we have said on
the necessity of regeneration, has a direct
bearing on you, the true disciples of Nicode-
mus; who, finding yourselves in similar cir
cumstances, adopt a similar conduct; and un
able to come to Jesus Christ by day without
danger, venture to approach by night: you,
whom we know not for the future how to de
terminate, because of certain feelings of com

passion we cannot eradicate, and which forbid
the refusal of the appellation of brethren; but
which a supinenessof many years continuance,
does not allow us to regard you as Christians.
These incessant evasions; those procrastinations
of making an open profession of religion; these
complicated pretexts; these frivolous excuses;
this obstinate resistance of the voice which
cries, " Come out of Babylon, my people;" all
these dispositions which give you so striking a
resemblance to Nicodemus, and which give
you so just a title to be called Nicodemites, do
but too much justify the proposition addressed
to the Rabbi, your hero, and your model,
" Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man
be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom
of God." Verily I say unto you, if you do
not abjure so monstrous a system of religion
on which you form your conduct, if you con
tinue to confound the communion of light with
darkness, and Christ with J3elial; if you per
sist in the wish to drink the cup of Christ, and
the cup of devils; if you rally not under the
banners of the reformation, and seek places
where you may profess Christianity, verily I
say unto you, that you cannot enter the king
dom of God; and that so far as you shall re
semble Nicodemus, so far will the declaration
of Christ affect you as Nicodemus.

But what is it I say, that you are like Nico
demus? Ah! your state is incomparably worse.
What do I say, that the words of Christ re
gard you as they regarded Nicodemus? They
regard you in a more serious manner. Nico
demus feared the Jews, but you have nothing
to fear fiom them. Where are the barriers,
where are the guards, where are the obstacles
which hinder you from emigrating to a land
of liberty? Where are the galleys? Where
are the dungeons? Where are the fagots re
served for those only who bid defiance to them?
Nicodemus neither built houses, nor formed
establishments, nor married his children, in a
country which his conscience pressed him to
abandon: these are modes of conduct which
seem reserved to you. Nicodemus had not
promised, had not sworn on the august sym
bols of the body and blood of Christ, that he
would decide for the true religion; but many
of you have taken this solemn oath, and after
having unworthily violated it, you sleep secure
in carnal enjoyments. Nicodemus had not
been exhorted for ten, for twenty, for thirty
years, to come to a decision; but we have an
nounced to you for ten, twenty, or thirty years, '
in the name of God, that " without are the
fearful." " Whosoever shall deny me before
men, him will I also deny before my Fathir
which is in heaven. — Whosoever shall be
ashamed of me, and of my words, before this
adulterous and sinful generation, of him shall
the Son of Man be ashamed, when he cometh
in the glory of his Father, and with his holy
angels. If any man shall worship the beast
and his image, or receive his mark in his
forehead, or in his hand, the same shall drink
of the wine of the wrath of God; he shall be
tormented with fire and brimstone; and the
smoke of their torment shall ascend for ever
and ever," Matt. x. 33; Mark viii. 38; Rev.
xiv. 9 — 11.

Perhaps you will say, that we dwell too

SER. XCVIII.]

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

407

much on terrific truths? Perhaps you will ask
for whcm these discourses are intended which
can but directly interest such characters as are
out of the reach of our voice? For whom are
these discourses, do you yet ask? For some of
those who hear us, whom God has saved from
these calamities, but who hesitate, perhaps,
about a relapse. For whom? For this father
of a family, who has left his country, but un
able to induce his children to follow, he has es
tablished them there; and they will curse him,
perhaps, to all eternity, for having procured
them worldly wealth at the expense of their
immortal souls. It is for this father, that he
may feel the horror of a crime which cannot
be repaired by too many regrets, by too many
sighs, by too many tears. For whom? For a
very considerable number of ourselves, who
have intercourse with those base Christians,
to use unremitting efforts, that they may feel
their situation, and be delivered from it. For
whom? For you, our high and mighty lords,
defenders of the faith, nursing fathers of the
church, so often importuned by our solicita
tions, that you still deign to bear them; and
that the protection you have extended to those
who take refuge in your country, having but
their souls for a prey, may encourage those to
come hither, who yet remain in an idolatrous
country. For whom? For the whole, how
many soever we be, that impressed with the
greatest of our calamities, we may endeavour
to move by ardent prayers the bowels of a
compassionate God, and prevail on him to re
build the ruins of our Jerusalem, and the dust
of our sanctuaries, and to restore to us the
great number of souls which the persecution,
and more so, the love of the world, have rent
away. O God! " God of vengeance, a con
suming fire, a jealous God: how long wilt thou
be angry with the prayers of thy people? Ye
that make mention of the Lord, keep not si
lence; give him no rest till he establish, and
make Jerusalem a praise in the earth." O
God, though we can indeed resolve to aban
don our country for ever, yet we cannot re
solve to abandon the soul of our brethren. O
God, so long as access to the throne of thy
mercy shall be open, we will thither approach
to ask for the souls of our brethren; and so
long as a single moment of life and strength
shall remain, we will raise our suppliant cries,
and say, "Behold, O Lord, and consider to
whom thou hast done this! Return, O Lord,
return to the many thousands of Israel." Shut
the pit of the abyss which is ready to swallow
up the souls of our brethren. Lam. ii. 20;
Numb. x. 36.

But does the proposition of Jesus Christ
solely regard the Nicodernitcs properly so call
ed? Are all those Christians who belong to
Christian communions? Among all our hear
ers, among those who adhere to our worship,
who believe our mysteries, and who partake
of our sacraments, is there no one to whom
we may justly apply the words of the Saviour,
" Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man
be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom of
heaven?" Oh! my brethren, what is the mi
nistry we are commissioned to exercise to-day?
"What is the gospel which God has this day
put into our mouth? I can draw no conclusions

from this discourse, which so naturally occur
to my mind as those that a prophet declared
to a queen of Israel; I would say, as Ahijah to
the wife of Jeroboam, " I am sent to thee with
heavy tidings," 1 Kings xiv. 6. And all those
tidings are not less true than heavy. I confess
my inability to comprehend the facility with
which some people apply to themselves the
evangelical promises, and arrogate the first
place in the kingdom, into which Jesus Christ
says, none shall enter without a new birth.
Each of the articles in which we have made
the nature of this change to consist, supplies
us with arguments against this class of people.

To become a Christian, we must have other
desires, other hopes, other sentiments, and
other pursuits, than those of the world: unless
you are born again, you can neither become a
member of the church, nor apply to yourselves
the promises made to the church. So long as
you persist in conserving this conformity to the
world, though against the better feelings of
your heart, from the sole desire of not render
ing the world implacable, or as the gospel says
of some, "for fear of the Jews," you are not
Christians; and thus the proposition of Jesus
Christ is just as much demonstrated with re
gard to you, as with regard to Nicodemus,
" Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man
be born again, he cannot enter into the king
dom of God."

This last article is worthy of our attention.
There are some men, who, if they should fol
low their inclination, would wholly devote
themselves to God, but are deterred from do
ing so, by I know not what shame, the world
is pleased to attach to those who openly de
clare for virtue. For it must be remarked, that
our age is come to that pitch of depravity
which attaches a note of infamy on those who
openly declare for religion, and thereby ex
poses them to a kind of persecution. This con
sideration induces Nicodemus to come to Jesus
by night, " for fear of the Jews." Hers also
is what hinders a vast number of men from
glorifying the truth. Why does this young
man affect outwardly to adopt certain airs of
gallantry and profaneness, which he detests in
his heart? It is " for fear of the Jews." Be
cause it has pleased men of fashion to account
those vices in youth a sort of courtly graces:
it is because they attach a badge of infamy on
a young man, who is chaste and pious, and
expose him to a kind of persecution. Why is
it in politics that one dares not openly avow,
that religion is the best policy, and that the
most consummate statesman cannot save his
country when pursued by the vengeance of
heaven? It is " for fear of the Jews;" it is be
cause we attach a note of infamy, and expose
to a kind of persecution, the statesman who
does not make every thing depend on the in
terested maxims of carnal men. Why does
this pastor fail to magnify in his sermons the
high morality of the gospel? It is " for fear of
the Jews:" it is because the world accounted
us visionaries, in fact, and persecuted us as
disturbers of the public peace, when we confi
dently enforced the truth. Do you, alas! fear
the Jews, like Nicodemus? Then you have
need like him to be born again. Do you come
to Jesus only by night, like this Rabbi? Then

408

THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.

[SER. XCVm.

the proposition of Jesus Christ is as much de
monstrated with regard to you, as with regard
to him: " Verily, I say unto thee, except a
man be born again, he cannot enter the king
dom of God."

Let us, my dear brethren, laying aside world
ly prudence, seriously apply this doctrine; more
especially if we are happy enough to know
the glory of the gospel, let us never be asham
ed to avow it; let us never blush to say, I am
a Christian. It costs us much, in some situa
tions, I fully agree, to make the avowal: but
what matter? He who supported the martyrs
on the fagots and piles; he who enabled St.
Stephen to say, when the stones were falling
on him, " Behold, I see heaven open, and the
Son of man standing at the right hand of
God;" he who made the apostles exult in the
midst of the greatest tribulations, saying,
" Thanks be to God who hath always caused
us to triumph in Jesus Christ:" the same God

will also support us. If in this economy of
confusion we are born from above, we shall re
ceive the reward in the great day of universal
regeneration; and we shall apply to ourselves
the answer of Jesus Christ to St. Peter, when
that apostle had asked, " Behold, we have left
all, and followed thee, what shall we have
therefore?" Jesus said unto them, " Verily, I
say unto you, that ye who have followed me
in the regeneration, when the Son of man
shall sit on the throne of his glory, ye also
shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the
twelve tribes of Israel," Matt. xix. 21, 28.
To sit on thrones with Jesus Christ when
he shall come in his glory; O! what a motive,
my dear brethren! Here is our support con
stantly to- endure the cross, as he endured it.
Here is our support to despise reproach, as he
despised it. God grant us grace so to do. To
him be honour and glory now and for ever.
Amen.

SERMONS

REV. JAMES SAURIN,

TRANSLATED

BY THE REV. M. A. BURDER.

VOL. II.— 52

SEE. XCIX.]

THE CONDUCT OF GOD TO MEN, &c.

411

SERMON XCIX.

THE CONDUCT OF GOD TO MEN, AND
OF MEN TO GOD.

EZEK. xviii. 29 — 32.

Yet saith the house of Israel; the way of the Lord
is not equal. 0 house of Israel, are not my
ways equal? are not your ways unequal? There
fore I will judge you, 0 house of Israel, every
one according to his ways, saith the Lord God.
Repent and turn yourselves from all your trans
gressions; so iniquity shall not be your ruin.
Cast away from you all your transgressions
whereby ye have transgressed, and make you a
new heart and a new spirit: for why will ye
die, 0 house of Israel! For I have no plea
sure in the death cf him that dieth, saith the
Lord God, wherefore turn yourselves, and
live ye.

' RIGHTEOUS art thou, O Lord, when I plead
with thee; yet let me talk with thee of thy
judgments," Jer. xii. 1. Thus did the prophet
Jeremiah formerly reconcile the desire, which
is naturally formed by an intelligent being, to
inquire into the ways of Providence, with the
submission due even to its most obscure dis
pensations. We ought to possess a strong
conviction of the infallibility of God, whose
judgments are the rule of reason and of truth.
This reflection should always be present in our
minds, that his wisdom is able to resolve any
difficulties which our finite understandings may
suggest; and that the doubts which seem to
obscure the glory which surrounds him, only
serve to augment its splendour; " Righteous
art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee."

Nevertheless, we are permitted to pour our
cares into the bosom of God, and to seek in
the riches of his knowledge for direction, and
of his grace for help, to triumph over our cor
ruptions. We may say, " why hast thou formed
me thus," not to place our reason on a level
with the Supreme Being, who governs the
universe, but to obtain some rays of his light,
if he deign to communicate them, or to ac
quiesce with humility, in the dispensations he
is pleased to order. " Righteous art thou, O
Lord, when I plead with thee, yet let me talk
with thee of thy judgments!" In the temper
of mind here expressed, we have meditated on
the words read to you; and in this temper you
must listen to the explanation of them. They
present to us an inquiry, and . a conclusion.
An inquiry, " O house of Israel, is not my way
equal? are not your ways unequal?" A con
clusion, contained in these words, which is the
substance of the two preceding verses, " turn
yourselves, and live!"

Before we enter upon this subject, it will be
necessary to define the expression, conduct, or
in the language of the text, " the ways of God,
and the ways of the children of Israel." These
terms must be limited to the subject treated
of in the chapter from which they are taken.
God there declares the line of conduct which
he intends to pursue, both with regard to the
Israelites and sinners in general. He will in
deed act as a Sovereign, but the strictness of

his discipline is moderated by the wisest regu
lations. " All souls are mine," he says in the
fourth verse of this chapter, " as the soul of
the father, so also the soul of the son is mine,
and I will judge them, not only according to
the Sovereign power which I possess over them,
but also according to their mode of life. " The
soul that sinneth it shall die." " But if a man be
just, and do that which is lawful and right, and
have not eaten upon the mountains," that is,
if he has not partaken of the sacrifices, made
by the idolatrous nations in the higli places;
nor eaten of the flesh of the victims sacrificed
to their gods. " Neither hath defiled his neigh
bour's wife, and hath not oppressed any, but
hath restored to the debtor his pledge, hath
spoiled none by violence, hath given his bread
to the hungry, and hath covered the naked
with a garment," in a word, " He who hath
walked in my statutes, and hath kept my judg
ments to deal truly, he is just; he shall surely
live, saith the Lord."

But as the strict administration of justice,
in a lawgiver, far from encouraging virtue,
serves sometimes for a pretext to palliate vice,
and as no mortal can attain to such a standard
of holiness, as to bear a rigorous examination,
God declares to sinners that he will pardon
them on their sincere repentance, " But if the
wicked will turn from all his sins that he hath
committed, and keep all my statutes, and do
that which is lawful and right, he shall surely
live, he shall not die; all his transgressions that
he hath committed, they shall not be mentioned
unto him: in his righteousness that he hath
done, he shall live. Have I any pleasure at
all that the wicked should die? saith the Lord
God, and not that he should return from his
ways and live?" This is what we are to un
derstand by the conduct of God, mentioned in
the text, " Are not my ways equal, O house
of Israel?" Let us now attend to the conduct
of the children of Israel.

We must again refer to the same source for
information on this subject, the chapter from
which the text is taken. We shall there find
that the Israelites, during the time when God
governed them as a father and legislator, as
well as a sovereign, were bold enough to ac
cuse him of forgetting his characters of father
and lawgiver, and only exercising his power as
sovereign. Theycharged him with violating
that principle of equity, which is the founda
tion of all his laws, and which he himself had
dictated, contained in Deut. xxiv. 6, and no
ticed by Amaziah, 2 Kings xiv. 6, in which the
judges were forbidden to punish their fathers
for the sins of the children, or the children for
the sins of the fathers. They pretended that
they were the victims of the violation of this
law, £§nd expressed this dreadful idea by the
proverb, " The fathers have eaten sour grapes,
and the children's teeth are set on edge."
These blasphemous thoughts of the conduct
of God towards them, influenced not merely
their understanding, but regulated the whole
course of their lives. They dared to assert
that when God thus violated the laws of justice
and charity, there was no obligation on them
to observe them, and no necessity for repent
ance when they had broken them. " O house
of Israel! are not my ways equal? Therefore

412

THE CONDUCT OF GOD TO MEN,

[SER. XCIX.

I will judge you, O house of Israel! every one
According to his ways, saith the Lord God.

But this view of the subject is still vague
and imperfect. To show to its full extent,
the truth of this precept, and the justice of the
inference, we must enter more minutely into
its details, and consider,

First, That the ways of God are the ways
of light; those of the house of Israel were ways
of obscurity and darkness.

Secondly, The ways of God are ways of
justice; those of the house of Israel, were ways
of blasphemy and calumny.

Lastly, The ways of God are ways of mercy
and compassion; those of the house of Israel
were ways of revenge and despair.

From each of these divisions we may draw
this exhortation, " Be ye converted, and live."
It is true, that while we still bear in mind that
these words were originally addressed to the
Israelites, we shall be more anxious to apply
them to the Christians of the present time, and
now propose to consider,

First, That the ways of God are the ways
of light; by which I mean, that there is no per
son educated in the Christian religion, who can
be ignorant of the conduct of God towards
men, who does not know that he will regulate
our future state, according to the manner in
which we have fulfilled our duties, and obeyed
his commandments here: or the sincerity of our
repentance when we have transgressed them,
or through the weakness of our nature lost
sight of them. He has expressed himself so
distinctly on this point, that the most limited
capacity may understand, without difficulty,
what is his will. He has declared it to men
under different dispensations. Some had only
the light of nature, to others he gave the law,
on others he shed the bright beams of the
gospel. He has also employed various means
for their instruction. Some he has taught by
the light of reason; some by supernatural reve
lations; some by traditions; some by the minis
try of the patriarchs; some by that of the pro
phets; some by his apostles, and his ministers,
their successors in the church. He has also
proposed to men different motives; sometimes
he has urged the remembrance of past favours;
sometimes, the hope of future benefits; some
times, he terrifies by his threatenings; at others
allures, by his gracious promises: at one period
he speaks aloud in his judgments, at another
by his mercies. But what is the end proposed
in all these different dispensations, these vari
ous motives? all tend to one grand point, to
show us, that there are but these two ways of
attaining heaven, by perfect obedience, or by
sincere repentance. This is the object of all
God's threatenings, promises, mercies, and
chastisements; the sum of the predictions of
his prophets; the warnings of his ministers; the
preaching of his apostles, and the testimony of
his saints. This is the lesson taught by the
law of nature, revelation, and tradition: and
of this none can be ignorant, unless they are
wilfully so.

Thus we see that the way of God is equal
and well ordered; if he had hidden truths, im
portant to our welfare, beneath the impenetra
ble darkness of his counsels, if the eternal rules
for our conduct were written in hieroglyphics,

whose meaning could only be decyphered by
superior rninds; and if he had condemned us,
because we knew not things, which were
placed beyond our reach, we might have re
monstrated against so unjust a dispensation;
but on the contrary, he has brought his laws
to the level of our capacity; he has spoken, ex
plained, and entreated. Is not then the way
of God, an enlightened way? Is it not an
equal way?

But we shall see, if we consider farther, that
the way of the house of Israel is unequal; it
is a way of darkness; and I deplore that we are
formed on so imperfect a model, for what was
the conduct of the house of Israel? Or rather,
what is our conduct? Like the Israelites of
old, who lost themselves in speculating on the
imputations which they pretended were cast
on them of the sins of their fathers, we forsake
the plain path, and entangle ourselves in the
labyrinths of controversy. We are ingenious
in raising difficulties, in forming new systems,
and above all in agitating useless questions.
We inquire, why, if God loves justice, does he
permit sin to enter the world? Why if he
wishes us to remain virtuous, does he im
plant in us dispositions opposed to virtue5
Why, if our future state of happines or misery
depends on our thoughts, actions, and motives,
does he say that he has fixed it from all eter
nity? Why, if we are weak and feeble when
we ought to do good, are we exhorted to strive
to conquer this weakness, and surmount this
feebleness? Why, if we inherit sin from our
ancestors, are we reproached with it, as if it
were our own work, and the object of our
choice? In this manner we argue, reply, write,
dispute, declaim, heap answer upon answer,
objection upon objection; volumes multiply to
an indefinite extent: and thus we lose in idle
speculations, time that might be employed to
advantage in action and practice. Hence ori
ginate party-distinctions, scholastic disputa
tions, and hatred disguised under the mask of
zeal in the cause of religion. From this has
proceeded all the persecutions of the church in
plist ages, and this spirit would still engender
persecution, if the wisdom of God did not
set bounds to theological zeal. " O house of
Israel, are not my ways equal; are not your
ways unequal?"

Is not this principle clearly demonstrated? is
it not a self-evident conclusion, that all which
influences our practice, all which relates to the
sentiments of the heart in matters of religion,
is infinitely more important than idle specula
tion and mere profession, an attachment to a
form that leaves the mind unimpressed? I ac
knowledge that there are errors, so great as to
be incompatible with the true fear of God; and
dogmas of such a nature, that it is impossible
to attend to them, without overturning religion
altogether. They give an idea of God directly
opposed to his perfections. But in this place I
do not speak of these misrepresentations and
errors, but of the questions started by the house
of Israel, and the groundless objections raised
among ourselves in the present day; and I af
firm, that it is ridiculous to neglect the practi
cal parts of religion, and to be absorbed (to use
such an expression,) to waste the capacity of
the mind on the study of curious and useless

SER. XCIX.]

AND OF MAN TO GOD.

413

questions, to the neglect of essential and indis
pensable duties. God has intimated to us, thai
these points are of minor importance, wher
compared with practical duties, by being less
explicit in his declarations, less clear in his ex
planations concerning them. We cannot sup
pose that a God infinitely wise and good, who
delights in the welfare of his creatures, woulc
hide in darkness those precepts, and those
truths, which are intimately connected with
their salvation, while he threw light on those
that have no relation to their present and fu
ture happiness or misery.

He has then arranged each in its own place
and given its proper importance to practice,
while he has left some scope for speculation:
the practical parts of religion must be regard
ed as the essentials; the speculative parts as
mere accessories. A man, who in his spiritual
life should neglect the great duties attached to
his profession, or sacrifice them to these unim
portant researches, is like one, who in the na
tural life, should neglect to take food, till he
had studied its nature, and perfectly understood
the effect it would take, and its connexion with
the body.

Besides, if we allow the desire of penetrat
ing into hidden things to be in itself praise-wor
thy, and we make a considerable progress in
the knowledge of them, we shall still under
stand them but imperfectly, and be guilty of
great rashness in pushing our researches be
yond a certain limit. Here appears an impor
tant difference between a person of an exalted
mind, and one of a meaner capacity. A mean
capacity is easily overcome by what are called
the great difficulties in religion; the mysteries
of the decrees of God; his eternity and his om
nipresence. On the other hand, a superior
mind feels that all these difficulties carry their
solution with them; when he meditates on ab
struse subjects, he does it with the full convic
tion that he can never perfectly understand
them, and he stops when he has pursued them
to a certain length. I here recollect a remark
able passage in the fourth Book of Esdras.
The author there represents himself as raising
the same objections and difficulties respecting
the conduct of God towards his people, and de
siring an angel to 'explain them to him. The
angel satisfies him by relating the following in
genious fable:

I went into a forest into a plain, and the
trees took counsel, and said, Come, let us go
and make war against the sea, that it may de
part away before us, and that we may make us
more woods. The floods of the sea also in like
manner took counsel, and said, Come, let us
go up and subdue the woods of the plain, that
there also we may make us another country.
The thought of the wood was in vain, for the
fire came and consumed it. The thought of
the floods of the sea came likewise to nought,
for the sand stood up and stopped them. If
thou wert judge now betwixt these two, whom
wouldst thou begin to justify? or whom wouldst
thou condemn? I answered and said, Verily it
is a foolish thought that they both have devis
ed, for the ground is given unto the wood, and
the sea also hath his place to bear his floods.
Then answered he me, and said, Thou hast

given a right judgment, but why judgest thou
not thyself also. For like as the ground is
given unto the wood, and the sea unto his
floods, even so they that dwell upon the earth
may understand nothing but that which is upon
the earth; and he that dwelleth upon the hea
vens may only understand the things that are
above the height of the heavens.

Let us apply this fable to ourselves; let us
forsake this unequal way, and embrace an equal
way; let us quit the paths of darkness, and
walk in the brilliant paths of light; and let not
our inability to understand certain abstruse
parts -of religion, prevent us from acquiescing
in plain truth, that we must be converted, if
we would live. "Turn ye, and live."

Secondly. The ways of God are the ways
of justice; those of the house of Israel were
ways of calumny and blasphemy. Here we
recur to the proverb, which we find at the be
ginning of the chapter from which the text is
taken, and which gave the chief occasion for
the words that we are explaining; " Our fathers
have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth
are set on edge." The meaning of this pro
verb is obvious; the Jews therein intimate that
God punishes posterity for the sins of their an
cestors; that they were actually suffering at
that time, for crimes committed by their fa
thers, in which they had no share. This pro
verb was very common among them. The
Jews taken captive with Jehoiachim used it in
Babylon: those who remained in Judea em
ployed it also. And while Ezekiel expostulat
ed with the former, in the words of the text,
Jeremiah addressed a similar warning to the
latter, in the xxxist chapter of his prophecies.
It is difficult to trace tiie origin of so odious an
idea. There are, however, some passages of
Scripture from which it must have been inferred.
God had declared not only that he was a jea
lous God, but that he would "visit the sins of
;he fathers upon the children, unto the third
and fourth generations;" and had justified in
several instances this idea that he had given of
limself. When Moses had addressed to him
;hat fervent prayer contained in the xxxiid
chapter of Exodus, by which this lawgiver
averted the punishments due to the Israelites
for the idolatry of the golden calf, God an
swered, "In the day when I visit, I will visit
heir sin upon them." From this expression
he Jews thought, that if God extended his
pardon to those who were guilty of this idola-
ry, he would reserve his vengeance for a fu-
ure period, and throw the sin and punishment
of it on posterity. In the works of one of the
Jewish writers there is this remarkable passage,
' There is affliction thou art suffering at this
ime, O Israel! that is not increased by the
dolatry of the golden calf."

The holy Scriptures furnish numerous in-
tances, in which we see the children sharing
he punishment due to the crimes of their pa-
ents. In some cases we even see the punish-
nents fall on the children, while the fathers
were altogether exempt from suffering. The
"amity of Achan were included in the judg-
nent of their father. The descendants of Saul
were punished for his perfidy towards the Gi-
jeonites. The child born to David, by Bath

414

THE CONDUCT OF GOD TO MEN,

[SER. XC1X.

sheba, died a premature death, to expiate a
crime of adultery, for which he could not be
held responsible.

But the most remarkable circumstance in
the subject now under consideration, is, that
the two great divisions of the Jews, that of
the ten tribes, and that of the kingdom of Ju-
dah, are sometimes represented as the penalty
due to crimes committed by men who had
ceased to live before they happened. Hear
what the prophet Ahijah said to the wife of
Jeroboam, " Go tell Jeroboam, Thus saith the
Lord God of Israel, forasmuch as I exalted thee
from among the people, and made thee prince
over my people Israel, and rent the kingdom
away from the house of David, and gave it
thee, and yet thou hast not been as my servant
David. Therefore, behold I will bring evil
upon the house of Jeroboam; him that dieth of
Jeroboam in the city, shall the dogs eat, and
him that dieth in the field, shall the fowls of
the air eat, and he shall give Israel up because
of the sins of Jeroboam."

This relates to the captivity of the ten tribes;
and we find the same judgments pronounced
against the kingdom of Judah. " Because
Manasseh, king of Judah, hath done these
abominations, and hath done wickedly above
all that the Amorites did, which were before
him, and hath made Judah also to sin with his
idols, therefore, thus saith the Lord God of Is
rael, I am bringing such evil upon Jerusalem,
and Judah, and I will stretch over Jerusalem
the line of Samaria," 2 Kings xxi. 11 — 13.
Thus there seemed to be some foundation for
the proverb, "The Fathers have eaten sour
grapes, and the children's teeth are set on
edge."

But this reproach was in itself a spot of
guilt; and in this second point of view the way
of God is equal, and the way of Israel unequal:
that the way of God is a way of justice, and
that of the house of Israel a way of blasphemy
and calumny.

It is not necessary in this place to discuss the
abstruse and difficult doctrine of original sin.
We are accused by some theologians of not en
tering at sufficient length on this subject, and
of keeping it enveloped in obscurity; but if we
attempted to contradict the false and pedantic
ideas, and to correct the mistakes prevalent,
we should find ourselves involved in difficulties,
and should probably render little service to the
cause we undertook to advocate. We are well
convinced that means would not be wanting to
justify religion from any apparent contradic
tions, but we leave this task to other hands;
we are not here to treat of original sin, our
concern is with the line of conduct that God
pursued with regard to the people to whom the
prophet was speaking; and in this view the
way of the Israelites was a way of calumny
and blasphemy, in opposition to the way of
God, which was one of justice and equity.

1. Admitting that our understanding is not
sufficiently illuminated, to comprehend how
God can, consistently with justice, punish pos
terity for crimes committed by their forefathers,
are we on that account to accuse him of ini
quity? Because we do not understand the mo
tives which influence the Divine dispensations,
shall we take upon ourselves to condemn them?

Because we cannot reconcile the doctrine of l
imputed crime, with the rewards offered as in
centives to virtue, should we renounce the
practice of virtue? Let us examine ourselves,
my brethren, let us inquire what are our
thoughts of God, whether they are consistent
with the humility we ought to possess; let us
defend our sentiments with more modesty, and
recollect, that the best solution of the difficul
ties in religion and Providence, is a conviction,
and confession, that we are weak and short
sighted, that our capacity is limited, and we
are mistaken.

2. We should consider the import of the de
clarations against which the house of Israel so
insolently rebelled. When God declared that
for the sin of Manasseh, he would in after ages
bring destruction on Jerusalem, did he say,
that the subjects should be involved in everlast
ing misery for the crimes of their king? I can
didly acknowledge, my brethren, that this ap
pears severe; and, at first view, unjust. If one
commit a crime fifty years ago, and for this
crime, his son shall be condemned to eternal
torments while he escapes unpunished, I own
that, whatever is my idea of Divine omni
science and omnipresence, as well as of the
weakness of my own understanding, I could
hardly persuade myself to regard as a transcript
of the Divine will, a book in which such a doc
trine was held out, unreservedly and without
restrictions. But to put the case in a different
light, we will suppose that a king committed a
crime, and that his posterity shall at a future
period suffer some temporal chastisement; in
this we see no shadow of injustice; the differ
ence between this, and the first mentioned case,
is wide. God can make no amends to man
whom he shuts up in eternal misery, but he
can amply compensate the trouble endured by
him, who is involved in the temporal calami
ties of a rebellious people. A nation may be
compared to the human body; it has its seasons
of youth, manhood, and old age. God may
visit in old age the sins committed in youth.
If he in mercy spared his people during the first
^ears of their rebellion, he is obliged by his
justice, to punish them severely, when their
posterity, far from repairing the crimes of their
ancestors, become partisans in them.

There is one evil which naturally and una
voidably results from this law, that if among
this guilty nation, there be an individual, who
abhors from his heart, and abstains in practice
from their wickedness, he will perish with
them; but such a one God will abundantly re
pay. The same stroke which brings destruc
tion on the guilty, shall crown the righteous
with glory; in his life it will draw him off from
temporal things, by depriving him of the ob
ject of his wishes, but it will render him more
meet for eternal joy. The same stroke which •
precipitates the wicked into the deepest re
cesses of infernal torments, will open the gates
of heaven to the just, and admit him to an
eternity of bliss. God expressly declared to
the Israelites, that although he commonly
punished the children for the sins of their fa
thers, thus visiting them on the third and
fourth generations, he would not do so in their
case. If the condemnation pronounced, on ac
count of the sin of Manasseh, appeared un-

SER. XCIX.]

AND OF MEN TO GOD.

419

justly severe, he revoked it in their favour; he
declared to them that he would forget the sins
of their king, and all their idolatry, and act
toward them as if this wicked monarch had
promoted instead of endeavoured to destroy re
ligion and virtue. He might have thus ad
dressed them: " You complain of my conduct
in punishing the children for the sin of their
fathers, you charge it with injustice; I will
punish your sin by acting differently towards
you. I will judge you according to your ways.
In those days they shall say no more, " The
fathers have eaten a sour grape, and the chil
dren's teeth are set on edge. But every man
that eateth the sour grape, his teeth shall be
Bet on edge," Jer. xxxi. 29, 30; "and to him
that hath not eaten upon the mountains, nei
ther hath lifted up his eyes to the idols of the
house of Israel; hath not defiled his neighbour's
wife; neither hath oppressed any; hath not
withholden the pledge; neither hath spoiled by
violence; but hath given his bread to the poor,
and covered the naked with a garment. But
&gain. The soul that sinneth, it shall die; the
son shall not bear the iniquity of the father;
neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the
son; the righteousness of the righteous shall be
upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked
shall be upon him," Ezek. xviii. 15. 20.

But was it just, was it reasonable, that a
nation guilty not only of sins, but of crimes of
the blackest dye, and the most aggravated na
ture, a people chargeable with, and actually
committing at that time, all the abominations
with which God reproached their forefathers,
and who, according to the language of Jesus
Christ, " rilled up the measure of their fathers,"
Matt, xxiii. 32; given to idolatry, lascivious-
ness, and covetousness, forgetful of God, arid
who neglected his worship; was it reasonable,
I inquire, that a people of this description
should seek so anxiously, should spend their
time in making fruitless researches into the
history of former generations, for the causes
of the punishments they endured? Was there
not sufficient reason in their own sinful and
guilty conduct, for the infliction of scourges
still more dreadful? How did they dare, who,
to recall the language of their own proverb,
had the sour grape still between their teeth,
and far from loathing* and abhorring it, made
it their delight, to say, " The fathers have
eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are
set on edge?" Put the case to your considera
tion, my brethren, in another form; let us sup
pose we ourselves in inquiring the causes of
the Divine judgments which fall continually
on us, were to look back to the first ages of
this nation, to examine the characters and con
duct of our first conquerors, by what unjust
and cruel means they attained the object of
their ambition; with what sinister views they
framed our constitution; how many widows
and orphans they oppressed; how they polluted
the holy places, and profaned the sanctuaries;
how insensible they were to the sufferings of
the church; how all their plans were formed
without regarding the prosperity of religion;
how worldly was their policy; how they per
secuted the ministers and servants of God, who
boldly and zealously reproved their crimes?
And were to trace back to them as did the

Jews, the severe dispensations of God, we
should then be involved in the same guilty and
blasphemous conduct as they were.

But do we suppose we should be gainers, if
God were to forget the crimes of our fathers,
and to judge every one according to his own
works? My brethren, let the blind and mis
guided heathens say, Delicta majorum immeri-
tus lues, Romane. O ye innocent Romans, ye
must expiate the sins of your ancestors. Far
from supposing that the house of Israel were
suffering for the sins of their fathers, let us re
member the words of Jeremiah, and apply
them not only to the children of Israel, but
view them as pointing to us also. " And it
shall come to pass, when thou shalt show this
people all these words, and they shall say unto
thee, Wherefore hath the Lord pronounced
all this great evil against us, or what is our
iniquity, or what is our sin, that we have
committed against the Lord our God? Then
shalt thou say unto them, because your fathers
have forsaken me, saith the Lord, and have
walked after other gods, and have served them,
and have worshipped them, and have not kept
my law, and ye have done worse than your
fathers; for behold ye walk every one after the
imagination of his evil heart, therefore will I
cast you out of this land into a land that ye
know not, neither ye nor your fathers, and
there shall ye serve other gods day and night,
where I will not show you favour."

3. We observed in the former part of this
discourse, that the ways of God were ways of
mercy and kindness, and those of the Israel
ites, were on the contrary, ways of malignity
and despair.

This will lead us, in concluding this dis
course, more closely to consider and meditate
upon these delightful and consolatory words
in our text, " Cast away from you all your
transgressions, whereby ye have transgressed;
and make you a new heart, and a new spirit;
for why will ye die, O house of Israel? For I
have no pleasure in the death of him that
dieth, saith the Lord God, wherefore turn
yourselves, and live ye."

The Israelites carried their fury and despair
to so great a length, that when the propheta
denounced upon them the judgments of God,
they drew the inference, that they were con
demned without hope of mercy. They regard
ed the Divinity as a cruel and unjust Being,
who delighted to overwhelm them with mis
fortunes, instead of considering him in his true
character, as a merciful and gracious God,
who called them to repentance by his threaten-
ings, and who declared to them, that in the
riches of his mercy there was yet a way open
to salvation; they rejected all the offers of his
grace as deceitful words, and thought any acts
of humiliation or repentance that they could
attempt, to avert the divine anger, very un
likely to produce any effects on decrees already
become irrevocable.

There are in the sacred volume two passages,
that point remarkably to this subject. The
first that I shall notice, is in the eighteenth
chapter of Jeremiah; God after having humbled
the people by the predictions of their appoach-
ing desolation, again proposed to them means
to avert its dreadful consequences. He desired

416

THE CONDUCT OF GOD TO MEN,

XCIX.

the prophet to suppose himself placed in the
workshop of a potter, who having broken a
vessel that he had formed of clay, moulded i'
into another form, thus of the same clay mak
ing a new vessel. God himself interpretec
this figure. " O house of Israel, cannot I do
with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Be
hold as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are
ye in mine hand, O house of Israel. At whal
instant I shall speak concerning a nation, anc
concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pul"
down, and to destroy it; if that nation against
whom I have pronounced, turn from their
evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to
do unto them," Jer. xviii. 6 — 8. Jeremiah
instantly showed this vision to the Israelites,
and explained to them its application. Bui
this misguided people, far from accepting the
Divine offer, and clinging to the only hope left
for them, answered, in the twelfth verse of the
same chapter: " There is no hope, but we will
walk after our own devices, and we will every
one do the imagination of his evil heart." The
other passage referred to, is in the prophecies of
Ezekiel, who thus addresses the Israelites in
the words of Jehovah himself. " Thus ye
speak, saying; " If our transgressions and our
sins, be upon us, and we pine away in them,
how should we then live?" Ezek. xxxiii. 10.
These were the blasphemous expressions that
they dared to utter against the Divine Majesty.
God is always jealous of his glory, but par
ticularly so of his mercy, which forms the
brightest part of his perfection, and shone
forth with the greatest lustre throughout his
dealings with this people. Let us, my bre
thren, apply these instructions to ourselves; it
often happens among us, that sinners become
confirmed in their impenitence by despair of
pardon; or, in other words, despair of pardon
serves for a pretext to continue in their sin; or,
in the words of the prophet, " to do the ima
gination of their evil heart." But when we
view the Divine dispensations, either towards
us, as a nation, or individually, through the
mercies of God, we shall find no foundation
for the supposition, " that there is no hope left
for us, for the attainment of everlasting life."
It is true, that God has sent his ministers to
denounce his judgments upon this nation; it is
true, that they have sometimes represented it
as at the point of ruin, and that they were au
thorized to say so. " The end is come upon
my people of Israel, I will not again pass bv
them any more," Amos viii. 2. " Yet forty
days, and Nineveh shall be destroyed," Jonah
iii. 4. Though Moses and Samuel stood be
fore me, yet my mind could not be towards
this people, cast them out of my sight, and let
them go forth. And it shall come to pass, if
they say unto thee, whither shall we go forth?
then shalt thou tell them, Thus saith the Lord,
such as are for death, to death; and such as

are for the sword, to the sword; and such as
are for the famine, to the famine; and such as
are for the captivity, to the captivity," Jer.
xv. 1 . We have seen part of these predictions
accomplished in ages that are past, there
fore we have every reason to suppose they will
receive a full accomplishment. But let us in
quire, what was the object God had in view, which will cure all his wounds, if he will re
in all these dispensations? What was the end I sort to them; I will display the depths of the

proposed by these judgments? All tend to the
same conclusion. God sought for the just, for
those who still remained faithful to him, or,
rather he sought those penitent and humble
sinners who, by their tears, their repentance,
and return to God, obtained mercy, and avert
ed the stroke of his justice. Thus we see,
that God is full of compassion, as well as
mercy; he showed his tenderness towards us as
much, when he sent a mortality among our
cattle, as when he preserved their life; when
he sent floods of water over the country, as
when he made it fruitful; when he shipwreck
ed our vessels, as when he filled their sails with
a favourable wind and brought them safe into
port.

His loving-kindness is visible when he gives
us over to our enemies, as well as when he
crowns us with victory; when he delivers our
possessions into the hands of others, as much
as when he increases our wealth; when he
sends national calamities as when he gives us
prosperity. His favours, his judgments, all
call upon us to repent, to be converted, that
we may enjoy everlasting felicity. O highly-
favoured, beloved nation, if while his wrath
was hot against thee, he still opened so many
cities of refuge, when he was ready to over
whelm thee with his judgments, what is his
favour now, he is loading thee with benefits.
O highly-favoured nation, if God so power
fully protected thee during the years of thy
rebellion, whilst thou wast lukewarm in his
service, and living in the habitual neglect of
his sabbaths, whilst thou wast harbouring in
thy bosom his bitterest enemies and forgetting
all his holy laws, in the dissipations of the
world, how would he act towards thee if thou
became grateful and sensible of his goodness?
How would he distinguish thee with his mercy,
if, amidst the rebellious spirit of the age, thou
wast the open and declared friend of religion,
and openly defended it from the attacks of its
inveterate foes? if thou makest his sabbaths
thy delight, attend diligently on his worship
with fervour, devotion, humility, zeal, and all
those feelings of self-abasement, which become
human beings when approaching the throne of
their Creator, to pay their adoration, and to
praise him for their existence and happiness?

What I have here remarked as applied to
the nation is suitable also to every individual
composing it; none has any reason to say,
;here is no hope, how shall we live? There is,
[ acknowledge, among us a class of sinners,
,vho appear to have exhausted the stores of the
Divine mercy, and seem to have reason for in
quiring, how shall we live? We would answer
his question by another, Why will ye die? I
would still oppose the mercy of my God to
their terror and unbelief: yes, to the most
uilty I would repeat this offer; let him, with
all his objections, and as well as he is able,

vith all the reasons he has for despairing of
>ardon, let him look back on a life stained by
.he commission of crimes, and let him search
nto all the poisoned sources of despair, for any
,hing to justify this proposition; there is no
lope, how shall we live? I will throw open to
lis view all the treasures of God's mercy,

SER. C.]

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

417

loving-kindness of the Lord, which will give
life to his soul; and, I will oppose to all the
objections that his fears may suggest, " Why
will ye die, O house of Israel?"

Perhaps ye rnay say, there is no hope, how
then can we live? we have offended a God who
is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. A
God in whose sight the heavens are not pure;
a God in whose awful presence even the sera
phim hide their faces with their wings. But
why will ye die, O house of Israel? This God
although holy, is not inexorable, at the same
time that he enforces the strictest observance
of his orders, he pities those who stray from
them; he knows of what we are made, he
knows that we are weak, and unable to keep
ourselves from falling.

There is no hope, how shall we live? we
have engaged ourselves as servants to sin and
iniquity, and "the wages of sin is death,"
Rom. vi. 23. And according to this, if God
remain just, the sinner must die. But why
will ye die, O house of Israel, justice is satis
fied, Jesus Christ "was made sin for us," 2
Cor- v. 21. He took upon himself the burden of
our sins, and the punishment due to them. If
any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, 1 John, ii.
1. "If God be for us, who shall be against
us; he that spared not his own son, but deli
vered him up for us all, how shall he not with
him freely give us all things; who shall lay
any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is
God that justified"

But it is sometimes said, " There is no hope,
how can we live?" The sins we have com
mitted, do not come under the description of
human frailties. They were sins committed
malignantly, and the influence of the worst
passions, with the most inveterate hatred, im
purity, adultery, injustice, and crimes of the
blackest die, " But why will ye die, O house
of Israel?" There is a fountain of life open for
the house of David. The same God who ex
horts you in the words of the text, to make
you a new heart and a new spirit, promises to
give you one. There is nothing can oppose
these powerful operations of the Holy Spirit,
and nothing can hinder him from acting upon
us, and he will effectually assist us, if we ask
him in s/ncerity, and humbly yield ourselves
to his direction arid influence.

Birt again, " There is no hope, how shall
we live?" We have lived so long in our sins,
it is too late for repentance. Too late did you
say; those who now say it is too late, have
often replied to our serious exhortations and
earnest entreaties, it is too soon; " But why
will ye die, O house of Israel?" It can never
be too late to be converted, if you are really
desirous of salvation. The irrevocable sen
tence yet remains unpronounced. At all events
it is not yet executed — the day of grace still
remains — the treasures of God's mercy are
still open — his loving-kindness and long-suffer
ing still remains the same; " Behold now is the
accepted time, behold now is the day of salva
tion," 2 Cor. vi. 2.

But, my brethren, do not suppose that the

only security you have on this important point

is the mortal voice, which now proclaims these

consolatory truths. Listen while 1 declare

VOL. II.— 53

who is our authority, and whence we derive
our commission. Our warrant is the Holy
One of Israel, and in confirmation of his pro
mises, we have not only his word, but his oath.
St. Paul says, " Men verily swear by the
greater, and an oath for confirmation is an end
of all strife," Heb. vi. 6; but " God, because
he could swear by no greater, sware by him
self (ver. 13,) when he made his promise to
Abraham." And he has confirmed with an
oath the solemn truths that we have just been
preaching to you. He sware the most sacred
oath, he sware by himself, in the twenty-third
chapter of the prophecies of Ezekiel, " As I
live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure
in the death of the wicked; but that the wick
ed turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn
ye, from your evil way, for why will ye die,
O house of Israel?"

Oh! how delightfu? must be the service of so
merciful a God, what a motive have we for
energetic exertions for the conversion of men,
when we have such a security for its success.
How must they be infatuated, who rush into
the abyss of despair, when their Judge him
self has declared, that he is willing to pardon
our guilt. But how blind must they be, who,
on the other hand, do not find abundant rea
son for Jove and gratitude towards him who
has made us such rich offers of grace, and who
are not willing to devote themselves to his ser
vice. Let us then, my brethren, let us say in
the words of the psalmist, " O Lord, there is
forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be fear
ed," Ps. cxxx. 4. " I will hear what God the
Lord will speak; for he will speak peace unto
his people, and to his saints, but let them not
turn again to folly," Ps. Ixxxv. 8. May God
grant to us this pardon, and to him be all ho
nour and glory, both now and ever. Amen.

SERMON C.

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN
AND MARY.

JOHN xix. 26, 27.

Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother,
and his mothers sister, Mary the wife of Cleo
phas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus
therefore saw his mother, and the disciple stand
ing by ichom he loved, he saith unto his mo
ther, Woman, behold thy son. Then saith he
to the disciple, Behold thy mother; and from
that hour that disciple took her unto his own
home.

" I AM become a stranger unto my brethren,
and an alien unto my mother's children," Ps.
Ixix. 9. " My lovers and my friends stand aloof
from my sore, and my kinsmen stand afar off,"
Ps. xxxviii. 11. The prophets who predicted
the coming of the Messiah, introduce him to
our notice, uttering the foregoing language of
complaint, in which is depicted one of the bit
terest circumstances of his life of sorrow; and
this affecting lamentation, we find fully justi
fied, when we view our Divine Lord and Sa
viour, surrounded by an unfeeling crowd, nail
ed to his cross, enduring all the agonies of his

418

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY. [SER. C.

dreadful sentence, and deserted by his disci
ples; abandoned by the very persons, who had
solemnly pledged themselves to serve him faith
fully, even to death. This added a poignancy
to every pain he felt, and pointed every thorn.
For whatever may be the acuteness of the tor
ments we suffer, they become comparatively
light when shared and softened by friendship.
How delightful is the affectionate sympathy of
a kind father, into whose bosom we can pour
our grief, or of an affectionate mother, who
wipes away every tear.

But, my brethren, if the Saviour of the
world felt so acutely this desertion of his dis
ciples, and those for whom he had shown such
a lively interest, he felt still more the presence
of his near relations, and even in the moments
of death, manifested a tender concern for their j
welfare. We now hear language from him
quite opposite to that put into his mouth by
the prophet. We hear him now saying, " I am
acknowledged by my brethren, and recognised
by my mother's children. They who love me
stand round me, and my friends pity my sore."
And experience shows us, that how difficult
soever to bear, how appalling soever to the
mind, may be the preparations for death, how
agonizing the thoughts of a patient who per
ceives the countenance of his physician change,
a preacher announce to him the approach of
his last hour, or a cold sweat, the precursor of
death, spread itself over his whole body, there
is still a more heart-rending pang which he
feels when bidding adieu to the objects of his
affectionate solicitude and care. In perusing
the history of those who have suffered martyr
dom, we see many who have borne with cour
age and firmness the view of the executioners
about to take away their lives, the stake to
which they were shortly to be bound, and even
of the flames ready to devour them, and put
an end to their mortal existence in the most
excruciating torments, whose constancy has
yielded in the presence, and sunk under the
embraces, of those who were dear to them.

Jesus Christ is presented to our view this
day, my brethren, as called to suffer such a
trial. He saw standing at the foot of the
cross, Mary his mother, overwhelmed with
the most violent grief that the imagination
can depict, called to witness the most cruel
spectacle that could be presented to mortal
eyes, borne down, and almost sinking under
the weight of her accumulated sorrows. The
same sword which transfixed the soul of this
heart-broken mother, and those of St. John
and the other Mary's, pierced our blessed Lord
also. He felt his own grief as well as theirs,
thus, suffering the agony of a double crucifix
ion, and dying a double death. Let me en
treat you, my^brethren, to give me your most
earnest attention, and, when we have ascer
tained the exact import of our text, to consi
der seriously the instruction which,, from the
uncertainty of life, our fate may soon, perhaps,
furnish to those around us; or, should they
first receive the summons from the king of ter
rors, the lesson which they will then furnish
to us. We will consider,

1. The conflict which was passing in the
minds of Mary and St. John, while eye-wit-
of the death of Christ.

2. The conflict, or rather the triumph of our
Lord himself, while expiring in their sight.
The first suggested by these words in our text,
" now there stood by the cross of Jesus, his
mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife
of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene." The next
we find in the following words, " When Jesus
therefore saw his mother, and the disciples
standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his
mother, Woman, behold thy son. Then saith
he to the disciple, Behold thy mother; and from
that hour the disciple took her unto his own
home."

O ye lofty speculations, which aspire to the
most impenetrable secrets of science! Ye soar
ings of the imagination, which rise high as the
heavens, and descend into the deepest recesses
of knowledge, in quest of sublime and abstract
ideas! I do not to-day call on you for assist
ance; it is to the emotions of nature, the senti
ments of the soul, the powerful sympathies of
the heart, that I appeal in this discourse, they
will furnish the best commentary on our text:
and that heart, which is under such an influ
ence, can best understand the conflict to which
we all approach, with the rapid flight of time.
And happy will he be, who having received
grace rightly to apply to himself this subject,
shall come off triumphant.

First. Let us consider the import of the
words contained in our text. There are few
circumstances, in the whole of the sacred Scrip
tures, or perhaps, we might say, in any history,
sacred or profane, which are related in a man
ner so simple and intelligible, and consequently
so little susceptible of contradiction, as that now
under consideration. The sight of the soldiers
ready to seize the person of the Redeemer,
the infuriated Jews, the decision of Pontius
Pilate, the view of the cross; all these objects
struck consternation intcthe minds of the apos
tles, and they thought at first more of their own
safety, than of the great peril in which their
Divine Master stood; and either from motives
of prudence or cowardice, they abandoned
Christ in the moment of danger, from which
*hey had neither the courage nor presence of
mind to attempt to rescue him. But the three
Marys, either impelled by the ardour of their
affection to surmount the greatest obstacles, or
sheltered by their sex from the fear of Uie Jev/s,
remained with him, throughout all thia awful
scene; and, as far as they were permitted by
the fury of the soldiers, they received from
the mouth of our Lord his dying injunctions.

Perhaps the rest of the disciples, ashamed of
their former conduct, and following the sugges
tions of love to their suffering Lord, which had
given way to timidity, and fear for their own
security, now might come back to seek him
whom they had so shamefully deserted. This
we gather from the words of another evange
list, who says, " that all his acquaintance stood
afar off beholding these things," Luke xxiii.
49. But wherever the rest were, we know that
St. John, who was always distinguished for his
love to the Redeemer, who had witnessed his
agony in the garden, who had followed him
into the court of Caiaphas, was near him with
the women. Christ, who was sufficiently ele
vated on the cross, to be able to see all those
who were assembled to witness his death, but

« SER. C-]

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

419

not so much above them as to be unable to dis
tinguish their persons, and to be heard by them
was struck on beholding his mother, an<
the group which surrounded her. He con
sidered, that as Joseph was dead, Mary ha«
lost her only protector, and might suffer all thi
miseries of want, and thinking that St. John
from whom he was even now receiving marki
of friendship, would not refuse his last request
to him he committed the care of his mother; i
was indeed a precious charge. He wishing the
apostle to fulfil towards her the various duties
of husband and son, therefore said, "This is
from henceforth to be thy mother," and to
Mary, " Behold thy son." St. John faithfully
observed this commission, and inviolably ad
hered to it, and from that time Mary had no
home but his. This, my brethren, seems to be
the general import of the affecting narrative
under consideration; on which the following
questions are sometimes started.

Why is Mary, the sister of the Virgin, and
mother of James and Joseph, called the wife
of Cleophas?

Some have said that Cleophas was her fa
ther, others say, with a greater appearance of
probability, that he was her husband; why then
was her son James called the son of Alpheus?
it has been supposed that she was twice marri
ed, and that her first husband, whose name was
Alpheus, was the father of James; and the se
cond, Cleophas, the one mentioned here. But
the prevailing opinion is, that the Syriac or
Hebrew word in the original, may be rendered
with equal propriety, Cleophas or Alpheus, so
that it is not difficult to perceive that the Al
pheus mentioned by St. Luke, is the same
whom St. John has named Cleophas.

Again, Who is this other Mary, surnamed
Magdalene, probably from her birth-place,
Magdala, either the town of that name, near
Capernaum, on the borders of the sea of Tibe
rias, or another place of the same name, on the
other side. She is commonly supposed to be
the same out of whom went seven devils. —
Some have inquired whether she is the same
Mary who is mentioned in the llth chapter of
St. John, whose brother Christ raised from the
dead, on whom, and on her family, he had
wrought so many miracles, and who was near
ly related to him. But these are questions
which do not concern us, and which we have
no means of deciding.

These, and many other inquiries, may be not
improperly started, and pursued to a certain
length, provided they are proposed, not as
points of importance in themselves, but as all
that concerns the history of our Saviour's life
and death should be deemed interesting to us.
But after all, as I remarked before, there is no
event in the sacred volume narrated in a man
ner so simple, so intelligible, and on that ac
count so little open to contradiction, as that
now under consideration. But, my brethren,
it is scarcely credible, that superstition has
been more than usually busy in fabricating
misrepresentations on this subject. Supersti
tion has multiplied the minute details of this
afflictive event, and has given a more particu
lar account than our evangelist. Some pre
tend to have ascertained the exact distance be
tween Christ and the spectators of his crucifix-

ion, to have measured it, and found it fifteen
cubits. They say, that even the lapse of se
venteen centuries does not prevent their clearly
discerning even now, the spot where St. John
and the three Marys stood. They maintain,
that there are still remaining vestiges, which
they show to those who visit the Holy Land,
and which they call the way of bitterness.
For, my brethren, what do not they see, who
view things through the medium of supersti
tion, and do they not find in every object,
nourishment for their chimerical and false de
votion, which amply repays them for all the
fatigues and difficulties they may have under
gone. Is there any event so trifling, any re
cital so simple, any place mentioned in sacred
history, so obscure as not to be traced by them?
The house of Joachim, father of the virgin, the
room in which she was born, the stone on which
she sat when the angel saluted her, the place
where our Saviour was born, the seat on which
she received the wise men from the east, the
grotto where she suckled our Lord, the fig-tree
that he cursed, and which up to this time, pro
duced no fruit, the place where he stood when
Mary said, " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my
brother had not died;" where he composed the
Prayer still distinguished by his name. The
dungeon where he was shut up when they led
him before Pilate; the arch through which Pi
late showed him to the people; the street in
which he was scourged; the spot in which Ju
das betrayed him with a kiss; the room in
which he instituted the holy sacrament; the
room in which he appeared to his disciples, the
doors being shut; the form of his left foot, which
was made on the rock when he ascended into
lieaven; the pedestal of the column on which
the cock crowed; the place where Judas hung
"limself ; the apartment in which the apostles
were when they received the gift of the Holy
Ghost; the place in which they composed the
Creed; the abode of the wicked rich man; the
door through which the angel led St. Peter out
of prison; the fountain where Philip was bap-
;ized; and many other places, which are all se-
Derately shown, and regarded with veneration.
But even this is not all, they pretend, that
he afflictions of the Virgin overpowered her,
md she fainted away and fell to the ground.
I-ardinal Cagison says, that they formerly kept
i festival in the church, called, " The feast of
he fainting," in memory of this event. And
f any one inquires into the history of this
aiming, the reply they receive is from the
works of a visionary, who published eight vo-
umes of his speculations, and whom the popes
anonized by the title of St. Brigite, or the se-
aphic cardinal Bonaventura, whose letter is so
arefully preserved at Lyons, or one named
VJallonius, and other authors of this sort, who
ived in the fifteenth century. But still this is
trifling, compared with the signification which
superstition has attached to the words, " Wo
man, behold thy son." "Behold thy mother."
They include, according to the opinions of the
doctors of the Romish Church, the greatest
mysteries of religion, they afford the strongest
proof of the powerful protection which the
Virgin affords to the church, and the religious
worship due to her from the church. St. John,
they say, represents, in this place, all the faith-

420

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

ful. Christ put in his person the whole human
race under the government and protection of
Mary. " Woman, behold thy son," or in other
words, I delegate to thee, all the power and
authority, that my divinity and quality of Me
diator give me over the church; from hence
forth, be thou its firmest pillar, its strongest
support and defence; be to its children a light
to lighten their darkness, be their counsellor in
all difficulties, in persecution itself, their guide
in all their wanderings, their consolation in
trouble, and life to them even in the last ago
nies of expiring nature. In the words, " Be
hold thy mother," he says, Mortals attend,
while I point out to you the most worthy ob
ject of your worship and humble adoration;
here you behold the fountain of all my favours,
and it is through her alone that you can hope
to attain to my glory. Cease then to weep for
my death, regret no longer my absence from
you, I compensate for it all, by leaving Mary
with you. In accordance with this opinion, the
Virgin is addressed as " the help of the weak,
the tower of David, the arch of the holy alli
ance, the door of heaven, the queen of the
apostles, confessors, and martyrs, the coadju-
trix with God in the work of salvation;" and
these titles are given, not in the writings of in
dividuals, for which they were personally re
sponsible, but in the public offices and services
of the church.

We see solemn vows paid to her in all ages.
Among many thousands of them was that of
Louis XIII., who consecrated to her service,
his person and kingdom, by an inviolable oath.
From this source spring all the blasphemies of
those who have dared to maintain, that the
Virgin created all the universe; that her influ
ence with God, is almost equal to authority
and sovereign power; that she approaches the
throne of Christ, not in quality of a servant,
but as his equal; as a goddess; that all in hea
ven, even God himself, acknowledge her sway
and submit to her power; that the authority of
Christ is founded on justice; that of the Virgin
on love. They argue, that if the foolish virgins
had called on her, instead of God, and had
substituted the invocation of her name, for the
words, "Lord, Lord," the doors of heaven
would have been opened to them. In the psal
ter of St. Bonaventura, the name of Mary has
been substituted for that of God, in all the psalms
of David, and to her are ascribed all the names,
perfections, worship, and works of the Deity,
and all the passages cited by the apostles from
the Old Testament, to prove the Divinity of
Christ, are likewise applied to the Virgin. We
find also the following prayer, "O Virgin, ex
ercise your parental authority over your Son.
Who can understand, O blessed and holy mo
ther, the extent of your mercy. Who can com
prehend the height, the breadth, or the depth,
of it. It extends itself even to the day of judg
ment, it is wide as the universe, it reaches up
to the heavens, and descends to the deepest
abyss. It is your presence that forms the joy
of heaven, your absence the torments of hell;
by your counsel the new Jerusalem is edified
and sanctified. Intelligent beings all pray to
you; some to be delivered from the torments
of hell, others, who have attained eternal hap
piness, for an increase of their felicity. To

your power, angels themselves bow, and these
behold fresh sources of pleasure; the just im
plore a share in your righteousness, the guilty
look to you for pardon."

Some persons have had the courage to pro
test against these erroneous doctrines, even
among the Catholics, and to desist from the
worship of the virgin. " O my God," cried
feebly, one of their most celebrated preachers,
" is it necessary, in this age, so strenuously to
defend the homage that the Christian world
pays to the Holy Virgin. Must it fall to my
lot to fight against the false scruples of those
who fear to praise thee, and dare to complain
of the honour given to thy name. But not
withstanding the enterprises formed by the
enemies of religion to destroy thy worship;
through all these ages it still remains. O
blessed Virgin, never shall the gates of hell
prevail against the zeal of real Christians."
Alas, how many persons feed on this unsub
stantial food. What a deplorable example of
prejudice and bad education. How do those
minds deserve pity, which are enveloped in
the veil of superstition, and blinded to prevent
them from discerning the truth. It is thus,
my brethren, that the enemy of our salvation
suits his attacks to the dispositions of every
man. Does he wish to deceive those lofty
spirits, who would lead captive to their will,
even the oracles of God, instead of submitting
themselves to them, those rebellious souls who
bring down the most sublime mysteries of re
ligion to the level of their own capacity? To
them he represents the doctrine of the divinity
of our glorious Redeemer as confused and con
tradictory, persuading them, that this wonder
ful and incomprehensible mixture of grandeur
and misery, of glory and ignominy, of divinity
and humanity, is at variance with all common
and received ideas; he thereby persuades them
to refuse obedience and worship to him, whom
even the angels obey, in whose presence every
knee shall bow, both of things in heaven and
of things on the earth; or is his concern with
those weak minds who are led astray by every
appearance of wonder, any thing new? To
them he represents, that many creatures par
take of the glory of God; he persuades them
to worship together with God, beings of an in
ferior order. Thus some refuse to pay any
homage to God at all, while others adore him
in a wrong and ineffectual way; thus he suc
ceeds too well in his wicked plans for the ruin
of mankind.

But praised be God, we need not fear the
inroads of superstition in our time', the only
feelings that it is likely to excite in our minds,
are those of pity and indignation. O church
of Rome, if thou wouldest re-establish thy sway
amongst us; arm afresh thy inquisition, equip
thy galleys, light up again thy fires, prepare
new tortures, open thy dismal dungeons, erect
more gibbets, and devise more cruel martyr
doms. With such arguments as these, thou
mayest perhaps, prevail on some feeble profes
sors of our reformed religion, through the in
fluence of fear, to become thy proselytes; but
all thy reasonings, thy specious tales, and false
arguments, only serve to sap the foundations
of an old building even now in ruins.

Superstition has also invented numerous

SER. C.] THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MART.

421

histories, well known to be entirely fabulous,
which have been added to that given by St.
John of the Virgin. The evangelist relates,
that from that hour the disciple took her unto
his own home; and we find, both after the
death of our blessed Lord, and after his resur
rection, that she continued with the apostles
constant in prayer and praises; after this we
lose, in the sacred writings, all farther trace
of the life of this holy woman; and we find
nothing which could serve for the materials of
a complete history of her life and death. The
books written in the first century are also silent
on this subject, and do not present any thing
to fill up the void in the sacred writings. A
letter from the council held at Ephesus in the
fifth century, affords some very slight grounds
for supposing that she might be buried in that
city; and one who lived a considerable time
before that period, acknowledges his ignorance
on this subject. He says, that he cannot be
sure whether she is really dead, or whether
she received the gift of immortality, and re
mained alive at that time; whether she suf
fered martyrdom, or terminated her life by a
natural and easy death; no one knows any thing
of her latter end. So general a silence, unani
mously preserved at a time when particulars
relative to the death of the Virgin might have
been so easily procured, should teach succeeding
ages to beware of speaking positively on this
subject. But when an author is so infatuated,
as to be intent on endeavouring to fix the par
ticulars of events, in themselves quite uncertain
and unimportant, what difficulties does he find
too great to overcome, what obstacles of suffi
cient magnitude to arrest his progress. Thus,
we see in succeeding ages, that men have even
thought they could trace the features of the
Virgin, which they pretend to have seen de^
lineated by St. Luke, in a picture drawn for
an empress who supposed she had found her
tomb; they have also detailed the slightest cir
cumstances of her life and death. To give a
shadow of plausibility to these impositions, they
have attributed them to persons of celebrity,
from whose names they might derive popu
larity. Of this nature was a work published
in the second century, entitled, " The Life
and Death of the Blessed Virgin," and placed
among the apocryphal books. And as all
these histories had no other foundation than
the imaginations of their authors, we perceive
a diversity of opinions, similar to the diversity
of the persons, from the fertility of whose in
ventions they sprung. Some maintain that
the holy Virgin suffered martyrdom; others
that she followed St. John to Ephesus, where
she died at a very advanced age; others assert
that after her death she arose from the grave:
but others have carried their theories still far
ther, and pretended that she was taken up
to heaven in a chariot of fire, as was Elias.
But we will turn from the consideration of
this subject, and employ the rest of our lirde
in considering the two principal branches of
our subject.

I. The conflict passing in the minds of those
who behold the last moments of those who are
dear to them.

II. The conflict, or rather the triumph, of
those who thus expire.

1 . The case of Mary exemplifies the conflict
ing emotions that agitate the souls of those
who surround the dying pillow of their dear
est relatives. Nature, reason, and religion,
all must lend their aid to support their trem
bling courage. And let me inquire, who is
there among you, my brethren, who sufficiently
feels the force of the demonstration of which
his proposition is susceptible. If any of you
have concentrated your principal care, your
warmest affections, on one object, on one fa
vourite child, to whom you have looked for
consolation in trouble, whom you have regard
ed as the honour of your house, to whose filial
tenderness you have trusted for the support of
your declining years; to the feelings of such a
one I appeal, to picture to his mind a scene
which baffles all attempts at description. Let
him put himself in the place of Mary, and
view in the death of our Saviour, that of his
beloved child: he'will still form but an imper
fect idea of the mental agonies which Mary
was suffering. She beheld her Son, whose
birth was miraculously announced to her by
an angel; that Son, on whose appearance the
armies of heaven sung with triumphant joy;
that Son, whose abode on earth was a distin
guished course of mercy, charity, and compas
sion; she saw him, whose abode on earth crown
ed it with blessings, ready to quit it for ever.
She anticipated the frightful and dreary soli
tude in which she was so soon to be plunged;
she viewed herself forsaken and deserted by all,
deprived of the dearest object of her affection:
the rest of the world appeared to her a blank,
as if she remained alone, the only inhabitant
of this spacious globe. And in what manner
is she about to lose her beloved Son? He dies
a death, he suffers a martyrdom of unexam
pled agony. She sees those hands, which had
so often dispensed blessings, cured diseases, fed
the hungry, clothed the naked, and wrought
so many miracles, pierced with nails. She be
held those lips, on which dwelt grace and beau
ty, and from which had flowed the accents of
mercy, scandalized by the impurities of the
furious Jews. That royal head, which the
crown of the universe would become, torn and
lacerated with thorns; that arm destined to
wield the sceptre of the world, bearing a reed
in mockery. She saw the temple of her God;
that temple which had been distinguished as
the peculiar abode of the divinity, which had
been blessed with peculiar manifestations of
his wisdom, his glory, his justice, and his mercy,
and all those perfections which belong to the
Supreme Being, falling beneath the attacks of
the impious multitude. She heard the voice
of the children of Edom, crying, " Down with
it, down with it!" and levelling the dwelling
of the Most High with the ground. Then she
beheld the full accomplishment of that saying,
of which she could not formerly perceive the
meaning: " A sword shall pierce through thine
own soul also," Luke ii. 35. Again, she was
denied the sad consolation of approaching this
her beloved Son, to comfort him, and to re
ceive his last breath. O ye, his murderers,
allow her at least to embrace him once more;
let her shed her tears by his side, and bid him
a final farewell; let her stop the blood which
has began to flow in large drops, and consumes

422

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

[SER. C.

the remainder of his nearly exhausted strength.

0 let her approach this expiring Prince, and
pour a healing balm into its wounds. But no;
she is forced to yield to the violence of those
who surround her; the thick darkness obliges
her to depart, all the care and tenderness that
she could show to our Lord, all her tears are
useless. Holy woman, if " all generations
shall call thee blessed," Luke i. 48, " because
thou wast the mother of thy glorious King and
Redeemer," shall not endless ages commise
rate thy grief, when destined to behold him
suffering so shameful and agonizing a death.

But I mentioned also that reason and faith
led the holy Virgin into a conflict of a different
nature. How could a human understanding,
even with the aid of reason and religion, pierce
the thick veil that covered the divinity of our
Saviour, at the time of his crucifixion. If the
mystery of the cross surpasses and startles our
finite imaginations now, when it is announced
to us by a preacher, who gives us the infallible
word of God as security whereon to rest our
belief, what must have been its effect on the
minds of those who beheld Christ suffering by
the hand of murderers, chosen of God for this
purpose. Every circumstance of his passion,
had indeed been exactly foretold by the pro
phets of old' and the close accordance, the
great harmony, that was visible between the
prophecies, and their accomplishment, ought
to have carried conviction to the minds of all
who attentively consider the subject. The
presumption certainly was strong, that he who
so well fulfilled the humiliatory and painful
part of the prophecies concerning him, would
likewise verify those parts that referred to his
exaltation and glorious triumph. But the
spectators of the death of Jesus, saw only his
degradation; his glory was yet to corne; death
had now seized his victim, and his resurrection
was to them uncertain; the predictions of his
humiliation were fulfilled, but they had not
seen the accomplishment of those concerning
his exaltation. This Jesus whom we now be
hold ready to expire, the thread of whose life
is almost spun out, and who will only come
down from the cross to be laid in the tomb, and
to go into the lower regions of the earth, can
this, I ask, be the promised Messiah, who will
" ascend on high, and lead captivity captive,
and receive gifts for men?" Ps. Ixviii. 18. Can
this same Jesus, that we see wearing a crown
of thorns upon his head, with a reed in his
hand, addressed by the insulting titles, " Jesus
of Nazareth, king of the Jews," John xix. 19,
be the Messiah of whom God says, " I have
set my King upon my holy hill of Zion. Ask
of me, and I will give thee the heathen for thy
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the
earth for thy possession?" Ps. ii. 6. 8. Is he
whom I see insulted, despised, and lightly es
teemed, is he the Messiah, called by the pro
phets, "Wonderful, Counsellor, Prince of
peace, the everlasting Father!" Isa. ix. 6.
This Jesus, who now is nailed to an ignomini
ous cross, is he the Messiah, the Lord to whom
God said, " Sit thou at my right hand, until

1 make thy enemies thy footstool. The Lord
shall send the rod of thy strength out of Zion;
rule thou in the midst of thy enemies. Thy
people shall be willing in the day of thy power,

in the beauties of holiness; from the womb of
the morning thou hast the dew of thy youth?"
Ps. cii. 1—3.

I know riot, my brethren, what were the
feelings of these holy women, and this beloved
disciple, at this trying period; what rays of
comfort were afforded to them, to lighten their
mental darkness; nor what assistance was
granted them in this conflict. But I know,
that the cross of Christ is a stumbling-block
to the Jew, and to the Greek, foolishness. I
know that the Jewish nation had, in all ages,
fixed their attention on the glory of the Mes
siah, and forgot his previous humiliation; and
I know that even the disciples of Christ, trem
bled at the name of the cross. St. Peter hear
ing his divine Master speak of his approaching
death, said " Be it far from thee, Lord, this
shall not be unto thee," Matt. xvi. 22; and
when Christ spoke to them of a future resur
rection, they questioned one with another,
what the rising from the dead should mean,
Mark ix. 10. Christ rebuked them, saying,
" O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that
the prophets have spoken," Luke xxiv. 25.
The women came to the disciples to tell them,
that they had been eye-witnesses of his resur
rection; but their information seemed more
like the day-dreams of a confused imagination,
than the result of cool deliberation, or unpre
judiced judgment. Thomas, especially, not
withstanding the testimony of these same wo
men, and that of the rest of the apostles, re
plied to those who said they had seen the
Lord, " Except I shall see in his hands the
print of the nails, and put my finger into the
print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his
side, I will not believe," John xx. 25. Thus,
although we are disposed to think very highly
of the virtue and constancy of these holy wit
nesses of the crucifixion of our Lord, we dare
not propose them as models for your imitation;
although we have a strong conviction, that
they did not fall under the attacks of the ene
mies of salvation, yet we dare not affirm, that
they entirely triumphed over them; and in
discoursing upon their conflicts, we dare not
enter fully on the subject of their victory.
But not so, when we look to our blessed and
adorable Redeemer; if we place Christ before
your eyes, we give you a perfect model: you
shall see him struggling, and you shall also
see him more than conqueror; we shall speak
less of his struggle, than of his conquest:
" And Jesus seeing his mother, and the disci
ple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto
his mother, Woman, behold thy son. Then
saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother;
and from that hour that disciple took her to
his own home."

We are to remark in this place, First, the
presence of mind, that showed itself through
all the sufferings of Christ; no man was ever
placed in circumstances so likely to destroy
this feeling, as was our blessed Lord at this
time. My brethren, when we have lived as
men generally do, without thought or reflec
tion, except of the things and affairs of this
transitory world; and paid no attention to that
future day of judgment, which is so fast ap
proaching, and when our eternal destiny will
I be determined; when wa behold the coming

SER. C.]

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

423

of death, and have made no preparation for it,
never fixed our thoughts on religious subjects,
nor acted agreeably to the dictates of con
science; have not restored our ill -gotten wealth;
if we have slandered our neighbour; have
made no reparation; have never learned what
is the end of our existence, nor what is death;
can we view the approach of the king of ter
rors, under these circumstances, without emo
tion? will not our minds be filled with confused
ideas, and overpowered with the multiplicity
of concerns; and having so many objects
pressing on them, be prevented from attending
to any.

But if we have, on the contrary, been,
during the whole course of our life, consider
ing our latter end, and following the example
of our blessed Saviour; have always been dili
gent to do the work of the Lord, and have
never lost sight of that awful period, to which
we approach rapidly but insensibly; if such
has been our conduct through life, we may
meet death with calmness. When the Chris
tian on his death-bed, beholds around him a
weeping family, near relations and intimate
friends full of grief, he still is calm, he retains
his self-possession through a scene so affecting.
Death to him is not a strange object, he views
it without alarm, and employs the moments
that yet remain, in administering consolation
to his friends, instructing or comforting his
family, or in the exercise of religion. And
this tranquillity of soul is perhaps one of the
best characteristics of a happy death, and
yields greater satisfaction than more trium
phant expressions, for which there is less solid
foundation. I have seen men in whose minds
the approach of death excites emotions that
partake more of the turbulence of frenzy, than
of zeal; they heap Scripture upon Scripture,
and prayer upon prayer, and from not having
thought soon enough of their last moments,
they can now think only of them, and can nei
ther see, nor hear, nor think, of any thing else.
How different were the last moments of
Christ; in the midst of all his agony, he still
distinguished from the crowd of spectators his
mother; he saw her, and pitied her, and re
commended her to the care of his beloved dis
ciple. Woman, behold thy Son, Son, behold
thy mother.

We see, secondly, the tenderness and com
passion of our Lord. There is a certain dis
position in some, that partakes more of fero
city, than piety; that possesses none of the
amiable properties of true religion. On pre
tence of being Christians, they cease to be
men: as they must one day quit the world,
they will form no connexions in it. Being
occupied with the concerns of the soul, they
forget the care of this life, and the concerns
of it.

The piety of Christ was not incompatible
with the innocent cares and concerns of life,
he contribu^d largely to the pleasure of those
with whom he associated, he behaved towards
them with kindness, mildness, and condescen
sion. He changed water into wine, at the
marriage in Cana; he multiplied the loaves
and fishes in the desert, to afford subsistence to
those who followed him; he partook of the

feasts to which he was invited, and sanctified
them with his heavenly conversation.

This compassionate kindness shone most
conspicuous in the period referred to by the
evangelist in the words of our text, the weighty
cares of his soul, which he was on the point
of yielding into the arms of his Father, did
not make him neglect his temporal concerns,
he thought of his mother's grief, he procured
her a comforter of her poverty, and gave her
a maintenance.

But, my brethren, the example of Christ is
worthy not only of praise, but of imitation.
The same religion, which directs our thoughts
to a future state, and to the hour of death,
teaches us rightly to perform our duties in the
present life. A Christian before he dies, will
regulate his affairs, make his will, exhort his
family, direct the education of his children,
recommend to them proper tutors and guar
dians, and declare what are his dying requests.
But unhappy are they, who on their death-bed
are wholly taken up with such cares; religion,
while she directs us to give them a portion of
our attention, forbids their having it all. Look
to the example of Christ, who seeing his mo
ther and the disciple whom he loved, said to
his mother, Behold thy Son, and to the disci
ple, Behold thy mother.

But how was Mary provided for, now she
was under the protection of St. John; what
was the prospect that she had before her: he
was poor; it is true, that he was disposed faith
fully to fulfil the trust reposed in him by his
adorable master; and that poverty and misfor
tune, so fatal to common friendships, only
served to animate his. But what assistance or
protection could she hope for from an apostle
devoted to his ministrv, and treading in the
footsteps of his crucified master. It was, my
brethren, but a poor hope, a feeble consolation,
for his mother to cling to; but here again we
see the triumph of Christ, which he gained
over those fears, which so often disturb the bed
of death. We see in the last moments of our
Lord, none of those suspicions, none of those
bitter cares, that so often empoison the peace
of the dying; that criminal distrust of God,
which offends him at a time, when by prayer
and praise we ought to conciliate his favour.
Christ displayed on this, as on other points, a
perfect confidence in the great Disposer of all
events. But Christ triumphed again in ano
ther way, in which we should endeavour to
imitate him. . Do you say what will become
of rriy children, or my family? Do you think
that you were the only person to whose care
God could confide them, or that if he calls you
away, he will have no resource left for their
subsistence? Do you think that the manifold
wisdom of God, can raise them up no other pro
tector? Do you think that if the paternal cha
racter excites in you such tender emotions,
that he who is the Father of all, does not feel
them also? Do you imagine that he who par
dons all your sins, cleanses you from your
guilt, snatches you from destruction, invites
you to glory, will disdain to supply food and
clothing, to those who survive you? No, he
will not: had they for their sole resource, a
man in such a sphere of life as was St. John,

424

THE ADDRESS OF CHRIST TO JOHN AND MARY.

[SER. C.

they would never be reduced to want. " When
my father and my mother forsake me," said
the psalmist, " the Lord taketh me up," Ps.
xxvii. 10. Let us also say, if I leave my father
and mother in their old age, or my children
in their infancy, the Lord will protect them.
They will find a shelter under the wings of the
Lord, and he will be their defence.

Again, let us admire the firmness and self-
possession of our Lord: while beholding those
objects that were most likely to shake it,
Christ was possessed of a tender heart. We
have already noticed this, and will now consi
der the principal circumstances in his life, that
will justify this assertion. To this end, view
him going from town to town, from province
to province, doing good; see him discoursing
familiarily with his disciples when he showed
them a heart full of loving-kindness. Behold
him shedding tears over Jerusalem, and pro
nouncing these affecting words, an everlasting
memorial of his compassion, " If thou hadst
known, at least in this thy day, the things
which belong to thy peace, but now they are
hid from thine eyes," Luke xix. 42. Behold
him again, a short time before his death, occu
pied with care for his beloved disciples, who
were to remain on the earth, and addressing to
his Heavenly Father that affecting prayer for
them recorded in John xvii. with the feelings
of a soul full of the tenderest emotions. Jesus
was exemplary in the several relations of a
friend, of a master, and of a son. While he
beheld around his cross only those whose ma
lice delighted to witness his agony and aggra
vate his sufferings, he turned his thoughts from
earth, to that eternal world into which he was
about to enter. But what was the effect pro
duced on his mind, by the sight of Mary, of
whom it is expressly said in Scripture, that he
loved her. What did he feel when he beheld
the disciple whom he had distinguished by his
peculiar friendship; and that other Mary in
whose favour he had wrought such great mira
cles, " Ah, remove these beloved objects far
from me, take away every tie that binds my
departing soul to earth, your presence inflicts
a sharper pain than the nails which pierce my
hands; the sight of you is more insupportable
than that of my murderers." Is this the lan
guage of our Lord? No: far otherwise; Christ
remains firm, his courage is unabated. He
was armed with almighty power, and he en
tered this dreadful conflict with the full assu

rance of victory, and final triumph. After the
first emotions of nature have subsided, when
he had glanced at the objects around him, he
rose superior to the things of this world, he
knew that death puts a period to all sublunary
connexions; that the titles of parent, friend,
and son, are only vain names, when we come
to the last hour. He no longer recognised his
relations according to the flesh, he was going
to form a new relationship in heaven, to merge
all earthly ties in the countless families of glo
rified saints, of whom he is the head. He ap
peared to know no longer that Mary who had
borne him, giving her no more the title of mo
ther, but said, Woman, behold thy son.

O, why cannot I communicate a portion of
this intrepid firmness of soul to those who com
pose this congregation; O that we may every
one on the bed of death feel some of its influ
ence, and be enabled to exclaim, Come ye spec
tators of my agonies, draw near ye to whom
nature has bound me by the closest ties, by the
cords of love and friendship. Approach my
friends, my children, that I may bid you a final
farewell: come receive the last pledges of my
affection, let me, for the last time, fold you in
my paternal embrace, and cover you with my
tears of affection; but do not suppose, that I
would now draw tighter the cords which are so
soon to be broken; think not that I would unite
myself to you still closer at the time when God
warns me that I must leave you for ever. I
know you no longer; I know not father, mo
ther, or children, but those who exist in the
realms of glory, with whom I am about to form
eternal relationship, which will absorb all rny
temporal connexions.

Thus the opposite extremities of virtue
seemed to meet in the death of our Saviour as
in a common centre, the perfections of the God
head, holiness, compassion, constancy, pierced
through the thick veil which shrouded his
grandeur, his glory, his power, and his ma
jesty. O, ye witnesses of his death, if his hu
miliation caused you to doubt his Godhead,
his greatness of soul must have fully proved it.
Behold the tombs open, the dead arise, all na
ture convulsed, bears witness to the dying Sa
viour; the graces that shone forth in his death
are proofs of his noble origin, and his divine
nature; such was the death of Jesus Christ;
may such Iv our end. " Let me die tb<3 death
of fthe rijrJxtwv? Ptid let my bst end be like
his." Amen. Numb, sxiii. 10.

THE END.

GENERAL INDEX.

ABEL, in what sense he yet speaketh, ii 280

Abraham, his intercession for Sodom should

encourage us to pray for wicked

nations i 379

his great faith in the oblation of

Isaac ii 188

Achan, where are the Achans? i 397

Actions, innocent, are often made criminal ii 4

Admonition among Christian brethren ii 187

Adultery, the woman caught in the act of

i 266

the case of Drusilla ii 8

the character of an adultress ii 44
Adversities of life ii 2 1 2

they are the best means of making
some men wise ii 347

Adversity is occasioned by crime in two re
spects ii 350
.SSmilius Paulus, a saying of his, ii 95
Aged men, the difficulties of their conversion

ii 242. 244

they are exhorted to fear and to

hope 250

Ahaz, his preservation and wickedness i 150

Alcoran, origin of that book ii 355

a specimen of its absurdities 356

Alexander despised by the Scythians i 124

Allegories, improper, censured i 42 — ii 83

Alms, Christ's love the great motive to them

i 415

Alms of benevolence considered with regard to
society, to religion, to death, to judg
ment, to heaven, to God 417
nine arguments in favour of alms 419

ii 7

Amorites, the nation and generation of them
considered as one person i 106
the whole inhabitants of Canaan
were so called ib.

their iniquities 107

Amusements, men who have the love of God
shed abroad in their hearts
have little taste for them i 92
Anathema Maranatha 1193

Angels, a defence t<- the church i 222

apostrophe to angels on the Godhead
of Christ 273

their number and employment 281
their happiuess consists in glorifying
God ib.

they bend over the ark to look into the
mystery of redemption ii 163

of the angel who sware standing on
the earth and on the sea 241

David prostrated before the destroying
angel 354

Anger attributed to God, but it varies in six
points from the anger and ven
geance of man i 100
Animals, compassion for i 367
Anise, mint, cummin, improvements on the
terms i 369
Antinomian, an, censured i 300
1

Antinomian, his notion of the divine mercy

ii 255

he is faithfully warned and refut
ed 402
Anointing of the Holy Spirit ii 399
Ants, an emblem of the busy multitudes of
men ii 34
Apathy, or a spirit of slumber, dangerous to a
nation ii 348
Apostasy, among the French Protestants to»
the Roman Catholic religion i 167
seven ways of apostasy i 239
the dreadful sin of an enlightened
apostasy ii 328, 329
the apostasy through weakness and
enmity distinguished ib.
four degrees of apostasy 331, 332
an address to sinners who have not
attained the highest degree of this
sin ib.
Apostolical constitutions confessedly spurious,
absurd, and the forgery of the
Arians i 279
Apostrophe to the ecclesiastics who surround
ed the person of Louis XIV.,
* ii 294
on pretended miracles i 197
to heathen philosophers i 217
Application to different classes of sinners i 96
Arians refuted in their false gloss on John
xvii. 3 ii 157
the Arians also refuted in their whim
sical gloss on John xvi. 13 ii 309
Aristocracy, its corruption described i 391
Arminius, (Van Harmine,) three replies to his
system ii 103
in the Bible practical duties are
placed clear, and abstruse points
involved in depths, that Chris
tians may have patience with
one another 106
God is no wise accessary to the de
struction of sinners 116
Arnobius, his avowal of the Godhead of Christ

i 279

Assurance, St. Paul persuaded of it i 313

eight cautions concerning it ib.

assurance of justification may be

attended with a mixture of

doubts as to final salvation ib.

it is incompatible with a state of

sin 314

assurance is demonstrated by the

experience of holy men ib.

by the nature of regeneration 315

by the prerogatives of a Christian,

316

by the inward testimony of the

spirit of God 317

four cautions concerning it ib.

means of attaining assurance 350

degrees of grace and assurance ii

182

GENERAL INDEX.

Asevrance consists in foretastes of heaven ii

182

those foretastes are often connect
ed with trials 188
they are often felt on sacramental
occasions and on the approaches
of death 189
eight causes why the generality of
the Christian world do not at
tain assurance 388, &c.
seven sources of evil 389, &c.
Athanasius, the superiority of his arguments
over the Arians i 279
Atheism, men embrace it to sin quietly i 210
its absurdity joined with superstition
ii359

its difficulties ib.

Atonement, the mystery of it arising from the
innocence of Christ i 191
it is illustrated under the notice
of a vicarious sacrifice i 249
its efficacy arises froni the excel
lence of the victim in five ar
guments i 287
its extent liberally explained 292
the support of Christ's death
against, all our fears of futurity
295

Christ's death is an expiation or
atonement for sin ii 167

four arguments in favour of the
satisfaction made by Christ 229
five classes of arguments from the
Holy Scriptures demonstrative
of the atfinement, and compris
ing a refutation of those who
say that Christ's death was only
a demonstration of the truth of
his doctrine 230

Augsburgh, Confession or Lutheran and that
of Arminius, strictures on ii 103
Augustine proves that the texts which speak
of Christ as subordinate to the
Father ought to be understood of
his humanity and offices, because
the expressions are never used of
the Holy Ghost i 277

he is accused of inconsistency, viz.
of favouring the cause of the Ma-
nichseans when he wrote against
the Pelagians ii 395

Avarice is always classed among the worst of
sins i 354

it is sometimes bluntly rebuked ii 38
the sin of avarice defined 1 12

it impels men to the worst of crimes ib.
it requires confession and restitution

113
portrait of an avaricious man i 172

B

Balaam, his temporising character ii 347

Baptist, (John,) an opinion of his i 158

Barzillai apparently anticipating death i 402
Bayle, an error of his refuted, i 388

Begnon, (Rev. Mr.) comforted against the
fears of death by Christ's valedic
tory address ii 147
Believers often receive the greatest good from
the severest affliction i 75
the believer superior to the infidel at

the bar of authority, at the bar of
interest, of history, of reason, of
conscience, and of scepticism it
self 225
Benediction on the different classes of hearers
at the close of a sermon, ii 91
Benevolence described i 372
the want of it a horrible crime 414
it is the brightest ornament of re
ligion 417
Birth, (new,) the ideas of the Rabbins con
cerning it ii 392
Bodies of the glorified saints probably not visible
to the grossity of our sight i 328
Born again, meaning of the expression ii 401
Brothels, the duty of magistrates concerning
them ii 44
Bull, (Bp.) proves from the fathers of the
primitive church, their belief that Jesus
Christ subsisted before his birth —
that he was of the same essence with
the Father — and that he subsisted
with him from all eternity i 277

Cassar, his maxims and conquests ii 9

Caesarea, two towns of that name i 157

Calamites, (national,) often the forerunners

of greater plagues in four respects

ii 352

Caleb and Joshua, the only two that entered
Canaan, are urged as an argument to
rouse sinners ii 358

Canticles, an apology for the figurative style
of that book ii 3

Cato of Utica persuaded of the immortality
of the soul by reading Plato i 141

Ceremonial law superseded by Christ i 288
whatever morality was contain
ed in the Jewish ritual law, &c.
is still retained ii 374

Characters described, the Jews 1171

the infidel ib.

the rniser ib.

the ternporiser ib.

a man in public life, his danger ii
285

Charity must be followed ii 312

Chastisements designated to excite mourning
and repentance i 385

Christ the Word, a proof of his Godhead i 6 1
Christ would still weep over sinners 117

Christ a counsellor 154

he is our reconciliation by the advo
cacy of his blood 155
he is the mighty God and affords pro
tection to liia people ib.
he affords protection against the fears
of death, being the everlasting Fa
ther ib.
various opinions of Christ 157
inquiries of this kind may be put
through pride, through curiosity,
revenge, and benevolence ib.
Christ the brightness of ce Dieu, dont il est la
marque engravee et le caractere 173
Christ accused of sedition, not by the Romans,
not by the populace, but by divines
and ecclesiastics ib.
Christ the author and finisher of faith 299
Christ's supremacy asserted and vindicated

GENERAL INDEX.

ill

against the objection of its being

acquired i 246. 274

Christ a supreme lawgiver 266

he is supremely adorable and adored

273

reply to those who say he acquired the

right to be adored 246

his whole design is to make us resemble

God 332

he is the same yesterday, to-day, and

for ever, how much soever he may

vary the situation of his church

348

he subsisted with the Father from all

eternity 274

he is called the consolation of Israel

ii!41

he is present with his disciples 155
Christ's threefold relation to God 157

to the apostles 160

to the believers 162

he is of the same nature with the Fa
ther 157
his not knowing the whole truth and
the time of the day of judgment as
mediator, accounted for on the
growth of his knowledge 158
his kingdom and exaltation 159
he prayed for the apostles and their
successors 161
union of believers with Christ 162
the duty of confessing Christ before
men 20
Christ's death and atonement for sin 167
six reasons assigned for the slight im
pression which the exaltation of
Christ produces 183
denied and acknowledged by his friends

417

Christian religion, the majesty of it, and the
consequent respect we should che
rish for the scripture characters
i 62

the amiableness of it in regard to par
don and grace 163
its pacific character in a political
view 175
its tendency to disturb the vices of
society 177
its superiority to Judaism 346
Christianity contrasted with Mahometanism

ii355

genius of 401

The Christian has a grandeur of
character superior to all other
characters i 148

he is obliged to contend with the
world in order to preserve peace
of conscience 179

he is indulgent to a tender con
science 245
his life is dependant on Christ 247
he lives to Christ 247
and dies to Christ 248
he finds difficulties in attaining
crucifixion with Christ ii 22 1
he is supported in his course by
six sources of consolation 277
he has a cloud of witnesses for
models 278
the difference between a Chris
tian who enjoys heartfelfc reli

gion and one who does not en
joy it 385
the primitive Christians were mo
dels of charity i 420
contentious Christians are only
novices in religion ii 88
forbearance recommended in opi
nions 107
Christians should be distinguished by love 151
they are not of the world 164
Chrysostom, his zeal in sending out missiona
ries i 420
his exposition of the blasphemy
against the Holy Ghost ii 328
Church, the, often established by the means
which tyrants employ to destroy it
i 76

the church has often varied her situa
tion in regard of worldly glory, of
poverty and of persecution 348
the church is a family ii 316

her children should love one another
with a superior attachment 313
Cicero, the powers of his eloquence in soften
ing the heart of Csesar and saving
Ligarius i 200

his gloomy notion of life ii 95

Cleophas, who he was ii 419

Clovis I. conversion of that king i 5

his immoral life i6.

Commandments, charges to keep them ii 150
the importance of the com
mand to love one another
151

Conduct of God to men, and of men to God

411

Conflict and triumph of Christian believers 418

Conscience, (Edipus, a Theban king i 199

in hell ii 8

he is a fool who denies its power

322

it founds its decisions on three
principles i 323

it is to the soul what the senses
are to the body 366

Consolation, six sources of it in Christ's vale
dictory address ii 152
Conversation must be with grace, seasoned
with salt i 410
it must be adorned with chastity
407

exempt from slander in seven re
spects 409
from unfounded complaisance ib.
and from idle words 410
five vices of conversation 411
three maxims of conversation
412

Conversion, exhortations to it i 48

it consists in illumination and
sanctification ii 242

natural difficulties of conversion
in old age ib.

the habits of old age obstinately
oppose conversion ib.

it is greatly obstructed by the re
currence of former ideas 243
the habit of loving God, an essen
tial fruit of conversion, is diffi
cult to acquire in old age 243
old habits must be counteracted,
and new ones formed 244

IV

GENERAL INDEX.

Conversion, a powerful exhortation to conver
sion 248
arguments from the holy scrip
tures against the delay of con
version 251
conversion by irresistible grace in
our last moments, as stated by
the Supralapsarians, refuted in
five arguments 252
the instantaneous conversions of
scripture characters, guarded
against abuse 261,&c.
those conversions had five marks
of reality which leave negli
gent Christians without excuse
263

L-orinthians puffed up above the divine laws,

as appears from their neglect

to expel the incestuous man

i 305

divisions, or a party spirit in the

church of Corinth ii 92

Council of Trent maintained the merit of

works i 300

Counsel and wisdom of God i 72

A courtier, his life may be innocent

i 398

a wise man will consider a court as
dangerous to his salvation ib.

he will enter on his high duties with
a fixed resolution to surmount
temptations 399

the arduous duties of good men at
courts ib.

the dangers should not induce men to
desist from duty 400

reasons for retiring from a court 402
Covenant of grace, the, is guarded by condi
tions ii 256. 305
the Christian and the Jewish co
venant differ in circumstances
only, being the same in substance
302

this covenant had five character
istics — the sanctity of the place
303

the universality of the contract ib.

its mutual engagements 304

its extent of obligation 305

its oath ib.

the ancient mode of contracting a

covenant 306

method of covenanting with God in

the holy sacrament 301

Covetousness, persons habitually guilty of this

sin, and yet professing to be

Christ's disciples, strikingly

resemble Judas (see JJvarice)

ii 112

Croesus, his celebrated question, What is God?
which embarrassed Thales, as rela
ted by Tertullian i 211
Criticism on Psal. xl. 12. "mine iniquities,"
&c. as applied to Christ i 283
on Hebrews x. 5. " a body hast thou
prepared me," 284
on Luke xi. 41. " Ye give alms," &c.
414

on 1 Sam. xxi. ii 130

on 1 Thess. iv. 13, 18. ii 334

on the word barac i 192

It has three significations: — 1. To

bend the knee, Psal. xcv. 6.
2 Chron. vi. 13. Gen. xxiv. 11.
2. To solicit or to confer good,
Gen. xxiv. 35. — 3. To imprecate
evil, Job i 5, 11. — ii. 5. ib.

on Matt, xxiii. 23. i 358

on Gen. vi. 3. ii 70

on Hosea xiii. 9. 115

Cross, five bucklers against the offence of the
cross — the miserable condition of a
lost world ii 148

the downfall of Satan id.

the sovereign command of God to save
mankind 149

the storm ready to burst on the perse
cutors ib.
the grand display of Christ's love to his
disciples ib.
glorying in the cross of Christ 218
the cross of Christ relatively consider
ed, assorts with all the difficulties
and trials of this life 222
we must either be crucified by the cross,
or immolated to the divine justice
224

the atrocious guilt of those who nailed

the Lord to the cross ib.

the cross considered, relatively to the

proofs of his love ib.

to the truth of his doctrine ib.

to the similarity of sentiment, and the

glory that shall follow 225

D

Darkness at our Saviour's death ii 166

David, his preference of God's affliction ra
ther than of man's ii 42
God's long suffering to him i 115
his gratitude to Barzillai 403
his affected epilepsy before Achish was
an innocent stratagem to save his
life, and imitated by many illustri
ous heathens ii 129
John Ortlob supposes it a case of real
affliction 130
> he was too indulgent to his children 25
his piety ii 283
Day of the Lord ii 94
Days, the numbering of them ii 21 1
Death, the reflections of a dying man i 186
terrors at the aspect of death 295
death considered as a shipwreck 416
the death of wicked men ii 41
the terrors of dying 126
the death of good men 41
death is a preacher of incomparable
eloquence 86
Jacob and Simeon both wished to die
through excess of joy 140
the words of dying men are usually
very impressive ii 156
the death of Christ is to the Jews an
atrocious crime 170
the death of Christ an expiation of
sin, and a model of confidence 167
death vanquished by Christ 171
he has removed the terrors of dying by
unveiling futurity 172
by giving us remission of sins 234
the complete assurance of immortality
and life, removes the terrors of death
232

GENERAL INDEX.

arguments to fortify a Christian against
the fear of death 233

death unites us to the family above 319
contemplations on death 340

a striking thought to dying sinners on
the word perhaps 400

Decrees connected with means i 302

Deists, Dr. Samuel Clarke divides them into
four classes i pref. 20

Deism, is incumbered with insuperable diffi
culties ii 358
Democracy, defects of that form of govern
ment i391
Demosthenes, examples of his eloquence i 242
Depravity of men i 105
Descartes contributed to remove the absurd
notions of God, imbibed by the
schoolmen i 5&
Despair and gloom, ten arguments against it

i98

despair from the death of the head of

a house ii 337

Devil, has malice and wiles ii 226

Difficulties of succeeding a great character

ii 344

Doctrines of Christ — six: Heb. vi. i 41

abstruse doctrines are difficult to
weigh ii 3

difficulties of attending to abstract
doctrines i 62

Drusilla, her character ii 8. 294

Duelling attended with bad consequences ii 39
Dupont, (Professor) his life ii 127

his essay on David's feigned epilep
sy before Achish 129
Duties, the smaller duties of religion i 365
attention to them, contribute to a ten
der conscience 366
to reconversion after great relapses

367

they contribute by their frequency, for
what is wanting in their impor
tance 368
they afford sometimes stronger marks
of real love to God, than greater
duties ib.
duties of professional men ii 31
duties of ministers when alone with
dying people 32
duties of preaching and hearing are
connected 62
- the high duties of princes and magis
trates 343
Dying people often fall into six mistakes ii 32

Ecclesiastes, a caution against misquoting that

book ii 65

Ecclesiastical domination attended with six

evils i 167

Earnest of the Holy Spirit i 334

Eating sour grapes, a proverbial expression

ii 413

Edicts, a catalogue of, against the Protestants

ii 366

Education of children, a grand duty, &c. ii 23

seven maxims of a good education 27

bad education must be reformed 76

Ejaculations for divine aid in preaching i 236

Eleazer, his martyrdom ii 281

Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani: our author illus

trates the conjecture of some Jews, that

Christ called 'for Elias ii 167

Elijah, his ascension strikingly illustrated

ii 362

Errors, speculative, may be injurious to the

soul i 375

Essenes, it is highly probable that many of

them embraced Christianity, (see

Eusebius) i 245

Eternity, efforts to calculate its length i 87

Evidence of object, and evidence of testimony

defined ii 174

Exile recommended in a bloody persecution

ii 288

Existence, the consciousness of it proved after

the Cartesian manner i 50

Exordiums, our author's method in that point

was singularly striking i 186.

312— ii 42

miracles and prodigies gave the
first preachers a superiority over
us in point of exordiums ii 195
an exordium of negatives i 321
an exordium on alms 413

an exordium of prodigies', an in
comparable one on the oblation
of Christ 165

Experience is the best of preachers, &c. ii 260

Faith, the circumstances, the efforts, the evi
dences, and the sacrifices which ac
company it i 160
the just shall live by it 299
justifying faith described ib.
the faith inculcated by the Arians and
by many of the Romanists, refuted
300

the distinction between being justified
by faith, and the having only a de
sire to be justified, illustrated in five
respects * 301

faith without works is dead 304

inattention to providence, a cause of
the weakness of our faith 349

faith or belief described 372

obscure faith defined ii 174

an act of faith in regard to retrospec
tive and to future objects 180
Family of Christ, five characters of it ii 316
Fast, a striking method of notifying one

325

Fasting enforced from the plague, the mur
rain of the cattle, and the loss of
trade 347

Fatalism, its manner of comforting the afflict
ed i 229
Fear, as applied to God, has three accepta
tions: terror, worship, and homage,
arising from a conviction that God
possesses every thing to make us hap
py or miserable i 18
arguments against the fear of man 1 1 9
Feast of the fainting n 419
Felix, his character ii 293
he is considered as a heathen, a prince,
an avaricious and a voluptuous man
296

his procrastination is imitated by sin
ners 298
Festivals ii 371

VI

GENERAL INDEX.

Figurative language, specimens of its beauty

and force i 423. ii 94

the figurative style of Isaiah xi.

i 64

it is inadequate to express divine

things 63

specimen of its powers 379

Fire, it burns the wood, hay and stubble, and

purifies the gold and silver i 94

the frailties of nature distinguished from

wilful sins i 374

G

Games in Greece and Rome, five remarks on
them ii 10

Gaming, the sin of ii 6. i 402

Genealogy of Christ ii 314

a solution of the difficulties of it,
apparently correct 315

of the persons nearly related to
the Lord ib.

Genius, tradesmen often ruined by a superior
intellect i 74

Glory of the latter day, or prosperity of the
Messiah's kingdom i 182

God's eternity i 5 1

his supreme felicity 52

God realized in a fine exordium 56

his omnipresence 58 &c. i 58

proved by his boundless knowledge, his
general influence, and his universal
direction ib.

God is a spirit and matter, however modi
fied, can never resemble him 57
God protects us by his presence, he invigo
rates virtue, and awes vice 60
God's ubiquity exemplified 61
the grandeur of God justifies mysteries,
and supersedes objects 62
it is an argument to repentance, to hu
mility, to confidence, and to vigi
lance 63
it is a grand subject for enforcing
charges~of sanctity on an audience

64

the sublime description of God in the
xith of Isaiah is to discountenance
idolatry 65

God's essence is independent in its cause 66
universal in its extent ib.

it comprises every excellence ib.

it is unchangeable in its operations
while variation is the character of the
creature 67

it is eternal in duration ib.

the grandeur of God conspicuous in
the immensity of his works ib.

God, great in counsel, and mighty in ope
ration; matter and spirit are alike
known to him 73

God's holiness proved from nature, from an
gels, and the human heart 85
God's holiness is our model 84
God's compassion must be in unison with the
spirituality of his essence, for a hurt
ful pity is weakness - 87
he alone is capable of perfect compas
sion 89
it is exemplified to sinful men, by the
victim he has substituted, by the pa
tience he has exercised, by the sins
he has pardoned, by the friendship he

has afforded, and by the rewards he
has conferred 90

the goodness of God defined 95. 108
God's anger and wrath, are ideas borrowed
from men; the animal spirits boil
with rage, but anger with God is
knowing how to proportion punish
ment to crime; this idea is striking
ly exemplified in six instances 100
God is one in excellence, which is the source
of all his perfections; they all act in uni
son, exemplified in five points 208
God's love to sinners 102

the time of God's justice must come

109

the terrors of God's vengeance 235
God's long-suffering abused four ways 111
to David, Manasseh, Peter, & Saul of
Tarsus 115

God, the reverence due to him 122

in regard to his regal sovereignty and im
mortality, he is the object of our fear

124

the grandeur of God in his works, awes
the tyrants of the church ib.

the whole creation fights for God at
his pleasure 125

God, the object of praise; to join with angels
in this duty, we must have the senti
ments of angels 127
character of God's mercy ii 47. 255. 325
the depths of God 72
of nature 74
of providence 75
of revelation 76
God is present in religious assemblies ii 193
God's long-suffering has limits, as appears
from public catastrophes, from obdu
rate sinners, from dying men 266
perfections of ii 404
Gold, silver, &,c. are figuratively sound doc
trine ii 94
Gospel, our author often preached on the gos
pel for the day, which accounts for
his long texts i 99
> the gospel reveals the perfections of
God 327
its doctrines are infallible ii 160
the great sin of not profiting by its su
perior light 333, &c.
invites all men to repentance 395
grace requires a preparation of heart
ii 142, &c.

there are degrees of grace 181

the folly of sinning that grace may
abound 255, &c.

a day of grace, or time of visitation
allowed to nations and to individu
als 366
the sufficiency of grace 2S4
the day of grace, or time of visitation

301

the doctrines of grace admirably stat
ed in six propositions 396, &c.
five cautionary maxims against mis
stating the doctrine 395
gratitude required for mercies 385

H

Habits, vicious ones, may be renounced when

old, in five cases ii 245

Hearers recommended to review their life i 1 16

GENERAL INDEX,

Vii

Hearers, some may be moved with tenderness,

but others require terror 86

plain dealing with negligent hearers

70

the hearer who wantonly sins against
light, is thought to equal the Athe
ist in guilt 111
a repartee with hearers on the word
fear ii 251
they are reminded of righteousness,
temperance, and a judgment to
come 299
Heaven, God will there communicate ideas or
knowledge i 329
love 330
virtue ib.
felicity 331
these four communications are con
nected together; we cannot in hea
ven help possessing rectitude of
thought and a propensity to love
and imitate God 332
a resemblance of God being the es
sence of heaven, it is Satan's plan
to render man unlike his God ib.
scholastic disputation whether we
shall know one another in heaven
ii 25

thoughts of heaven diminish the an
guish of the cross 153
the joys of meeting Christ and saints
in heaven 155
the third heaven of which St. Paul
speaks 201
why its happiness is unutterable ib.
the blessed in heaven possess superior
knowledge 208
they are prompted by inclinations the
most noble and refined 203
they possess all sensible pleasure in
heaven 206
the church sighing for more of hea
ven 209, &c.
foretastes of heaven felt on earth 313
the delightful society of heaven, &c.

319

Hebrew Christians, the scope and design of

St. Paul's epistle to them ii 271

their situation stated 286

Hell, there is no philosophy against its fear

i 336

the eternity of hell torments ib.

this doctrine confirmed and Origen re
futed 337
four farther arguments on this subject

338

the torments of hell consist in the priva
tion of celestial happiness 340
in painful sensations ib.
in remorse of conscience 341
in the horrors of society ib.
in the increase of sin ib.
there are degrees of torment in hell, but
the mildest are intolerable ii 100
the cries of its inhabitants 340
Hero, he that ruleth his spirit is greater than
he that taketh a city, in four respects
i 427. ii 384

Herod Antipas, his conduct to Jesus i 174

Herodotus, his account of Pharoah Necho's

expedition ii 364

(see our Prideaux.)

Hobbes and Machiavel, a word to their disci
ples ii 350

Holland, very wicked men in it i 333

six cautions to that nation 385

augurs of its prosperity from its tears

383

a sketch of its vices ii 351. i 110. 221

three sources of hope for Holland,

&c. ii 353

its high and mighty lords called to

repentance 383

religious disputes in Holland 395

Holiness, the word has many acceptations

i 79

it is virtue, rectitude, order, or a con
formity to God 80
it often means justice 81
or fitness ib.
Huett, his eccentricity i 94
Humanity to the brute creation enforced by
Jewish and Pagan laws ii 372
Humility, a cause of gratitude i 130
Hypocrisy rebuked i 364
the hypocrite described i 363

Ideas, the imperfection of them i 329

change of ii 401

Idleness, mischiefs arising from it i 371

Idolatry, best refuted by irony i 69

it disgraces man made in the image

of God ii 29

Image of God in man i 332

its remains 83

Imagination, its magnifying powers over the

imaginative ii 75

Inferences, Heb. ii. 1, 3. A striking inference

from the Godhead of Christ

i 280

Inferences from the being of God i 94

a caution against wrong inferences
from St. Peter's sin 162

the multitude ought not to be our
rule 171

Infidelity affects an air of superiority ii 52
its dogmas revolt our moral feel
ings ib.
it followed the spirit of blind credu
lity 186
it has insuperable difficulties 359
Iniquities of the fathers visited on the children;
the nature of that economy i 107
Intemperance ii 295
Intercession of Christ; its omnipotency, &c.

ii 163

Isaac, a type of Christ ii 169

Isaiah, his mission to Ahaz i 150

Isis, an Egyptian god alluded to ii 35

Ishmael preserved by providence ii 26

Invocation adapted to the subject ii 395

James, (St.) the paradoxes or high morality
of his epistle i 350

Jeremiah, the sale of his land a proof of pro
phecy i 71
his boldness at fourteen years of ago
159

his severe mission to his country ii
187

viii

GENERAL INDEX.

Jeremiah, his complaints against them 347
Jews, their hardness and opprobrium inferred
from the various methods Jesus Christ
adopted for their conversion i 164
we should have a little patience with
their prejudices 183

the Jews safer guides to prophecy than
some Christians, — (perhaps the author
alludes to Grotius, who affected an
unpardonable singularity in his expo
sitions of the prophecies,) 187
could they be persuaded though one
rose from the dead 202
two answers ib .
their fair promises before Sinai were
transient ii 82
six of their calamities deplored by
Ezekiel 365
character of their apostate kings 367
the Jews perished as the Galileans

381

the calamities of the Jews and those

of Europe, compared ib.

John and Mary, address of Christ to ii 417

Judas went to his own place ii 109

it were better that he had not been born,

in four arguments ib.

the circumstances in which he sinned

113

the pleas with which he covered his

crime ib.

the confession extorted by his conscience

114

Judgment, the day of i 53

power of the judge 54

a future judgment is inferred from
disorders of society, from the
power of conscience, and from
revelation 322

we shall be judged according to the
dispensations under which we
lived 325

these are light, proportion or ta
lents ib.
and mercy 326, &c.
Judgments (national,) the erroneous and the
just light in which they should be
viewed ii 378, &c.
four erroneous dispositions in which
they are viewed ib. &c.
God is not only the author of all
judgments, but he determines
their ends in three respects 379
a provisional or particular judg
ment on every man as soon as
his soul leaves the body i 321
the judgment or opinion must
often be suspended ii 76
Justification, Anselm's mode of expressing on
that subject i 301
Justification by faith 299

K

Keduscha Kadytis, or holy, the name of Jeru
salem in many of the ori
ental languages ii 364
King, the term defined ii 18

responsible 343

The kingdom of Christ is not of this
world, as is apparent from his design,
his maxims, his marvellous works,

his weapons, his courtiers, his re
wards i 180
his kingdom not being of this world, de
monstrates the authenticity of his
mission 184
a search for the subjects of the Mes
siah's kingdom among the Jews, in
Rome, in Protestant countries 185
in this point the faith and practice of
Christians are at dissonance 186
of heaven, meaning of the expression
ii 401

Knowledge, the imperfection of it, no proof

of the non-existence of God, and

of divine truth i 94

defects of human knowledge

ii203

five reasons why our knowledge

is circumscribed 360

man cannot know as God knows,

which is an adequate apology

for the mysteries of faith 362

Latitudinarianism, or Deism ii 359

Law, offending in one point, &c. refers to ca
pital offences, not to daily frailties, mo
mentary faults and involuntary pas
sions i 352
it refers to wilful and presumptuous sins,
which virtually sap the foundation of
the whole law in three respects 354
the law requires us to consider God as a
sovereign, a legislator, and a father ib.
the excellent design of God's law in
four arguments 381
Lawyers, their method of false pleading ii 73
Learning and knowledge should be acquired
by Christians i 219
Legends, a specimen of them ii 140
Lent, apparently observed with great reve
rence by the author's hearers i 187
this festival is strongly recommended
ii 164

Levitical law supported by three classes ot

persons ii 21£>

Libertines, their objections against revelation

i 52

refuted in four arguments ib.
Liberty, (Christian) described i 270

Liberty described in five points: in the power
of suspending the judgment, in having
the will in unison with the under
standing, the conscience superior to
the control of the senses, superior
to our condition in life i 268

Liberty is incompatible with sin 269

Life, arguments on its shortness and uncer
tainty ii 215
the life of men divided into six periods

214

this life is a season of probation assign
ed for making our choice 215
the grand object of life is to prepare for
eternity " 216
sinners should be grateful for the re
prieve of life i6.
life well spent affords satisfaction to old
age i 289
an idle life, however exempt from gross
er crime, is incompatible with a state
of salvation 371

GENERAL INDEX.

I

Life, the viscissitudes of life ii 59

reflections on it 63

we should value the good things of life ib.
some men hate life, through a disposi
tion of melancholy 65
through a principle of misanthropy 66
through discontent and disgust ib.
and through an excessive fondness of
life ib.
rectitude and delicacy of conscience pro
mote disgust of life 69
Live, how shall we, the expression beautifully
applied ii 417
Louis XIV, a cruel, superstitious and enthu
siastic man i 389
his monarchy obviously alluded
to 391
his secret policy against the
neighbouring states 395
his glory, and the humiliation of
his pride ii 108
Love, the energy of the love of Christ i 29 1
the sinner is exhorted to enkindle his
heart with love 292
effects of Christ's love on the heart 294
his love is an inexhaustible source of
consolation in all the distresses of
life, and in the agonies of death 295
it is a source of universal obedience ib.
Love to God described 371

M

Machiavelian politics i 396. ii 350

portrait of the infidel who shall
presume to govern a king
dom on those principles 367
Magistrates addressed ii 217

Mahomet, character of that monster ii 355
Maimonides, this learned Rabbi agrees with
St. Paul, Rom. xii. 2. that God
requires our persons, not our
sacrifices i 288

Malachi, character of the people to whom he
preached ii 192

and the character of the priests 196
Malebranche, his admirable exposition of the
passions ii 73

Man, in the simplicity of youth admires the
perfections of God, and the theory of
religion ii 278

man is born with a propensity to vice

281

the dangers to which a well disposed
man is exposed to in public life 285
his faculty of thinking, loving and feel
ing, demonstrate the limits of his
mind 360

wants of 402

Mankind, the wisdom of God in the diversity
of their conditions i 252

they are all equal in natural pow
ers and infirmities 253
in privilege, and claims on God
and providence 254
in the designations of the Creator
according to their endowments
255

in their doom to suffer and die 256

our lot in life, and our faculties

prove our designation for another

world ii 61

2

Marlborough, (Duke of) his victory over
Marshal Villars ii 89

Martyrs, a fine apostrophe to them i 123
the Jews believed in their resurrec
tion 158
the moral martyrs are sometimes ac
cused of rebellion ii 19
they have a fourfold reward 21
arguments of support to martyrs 13
the fear of martyrdom 320
Mary, the mother of Christ ii 421
Marvellous, the, a caution against it ii 182
Materiality of the soul refuted i 261
Maxims of the world ii 31
Mediator, Christ in this office is one with God
in three respects ' ii 157
Merchants, apprised of a heavenly treasure

H217

Messiah, a comfort to the church under the
idea of the Jewish captivity i 76
Metaphysical mode of reasoning, concerning
spirit and matter i 58

Ministers or casuists, cautioned ii 50. 71. 107
humility must be their character 93
St. Paul divides them into three
classes ib.

their glory in the day of the Lord 97
Ministers should be distinguished by love 151
an address to them 217

their duty when attending profli
gate men in their last moments
249

woe, woe to the faithless ministry
259

Ministers must strike at vice without respect
to persons 295

Ministry, the little success of Christ's ministry
accounted for by five considera
tions i 166
the Christian ministry excites digni
fied enemies 177
attendance on it must make us
either better or worse 386
it was greatly abused by the Jews
ii 8

a striking transition from preaching
the most tremendous terrors, to
the ministry of consolation ii 260
an apology for the ministry of ter
ror to certain characters 224
Miracles were performed in the most public
place and before the most compe
tent judges i 197
the folly of asking miracles while we
live in sin 209
Miser, a, his reflections at a funeral but tran
sient i 208
Molinists, an opinion of theirs censured ii 7
Montausier (Mons. de) his confession i 405
Morality, its principle, the love of God is
always the same, its variations
therefore are simply the effect of
superior light i 324
the nature, obligations and motives
of morality " i pref. xxxv
it has five characters: it is clearly
revealed 18
it is distinguished by dignity of
principle 19
by equity of claims ift.
by being within our reach 21
and by the power of its motive* 2?

GENERAL INDEX.

Morality, the morality of a soldier, of a states
man, of a merchant, of a minis
ter i 397
Moral evidences, its difference from mathe
matical ii 183
his advantage as a preacher i 56
he is the reputed author of the xcth
Psalm ii210
the multitude bad guides in faith ii 28
in worship
in morality

in dying 32

Murrain of the cattle in Holland ii 349

Mysteries render a religion doubtful in four
respects ii 355

Ifysteries of Mahometism, of popery, of pa
ganism, of infidelity, contrasted with
Christianity ib.

N

Nations cautioned against placing an ultimate
reliance on fleets and armies i 126
Nations are regarded as one body, in the visi
tation of the iniquities of our fathers
i 108

National dangers should especially affect those

who are most exposed 387

Nativity of Christ, all nature rejoicing at his

birth i 149

Nature and grace abound with marvels i 93

the study of it unsearchably sublime

ii 100

Natural religion, the disciple of it embarrassed
on contemplating the miseries of
man, &c but all these are no diffi
culties to the disciple of revealed
religion i 213

the disciple of natural religion, is
equally embarrassed in studying
the nature of man in three respects
214

the disciple of natural, and the disci
ple of revealed religion, at the tri
bunal of God, soliciting pardon 216
fortifying themselves against the fear
of death 217

the confusion of Pagan philosophers,
respecting natural religion, in four
respects 218

Nebuchadnezzar, the rapidity of his conquest

168

Nehemas, (Rabbi) his curious reply to a Ro
man Consul, who had inquired con
cerning the name of God i 328
Nicodemites described ii 406

Night, a Christian seeking for the evidence of
religion, is placed between the night
of historic difficulties, and the night
of his future hopes ii 173

the faith which respects the night of
futurity ' 179

Nineveh, the fall of that metropolis 364

Nobility of birth extravagantly panegyrized

U343

a virtuous descent, the highest no
bility ib.

Opinions of the fathers respecting the salva
tion of certain heathens i 220

Oriffen, his avowal of the Godhead of Christ

1280

his ideas of hell 335

Original sin, or seed of corruption, attributed
to the depravity of nature i 215
ii 281. 397

it is hostile to truth and virtue 424
it disorders the soul with unholy dis
positions ib.
the depravity of nature is increased
by acts of vice 417
it descends from parents to children,
and therefore is a strong argument
for diligence in education 23
Orobio, (Isaac) a learned Jew i 184

Pagans, their belief in the presence of the
gods at their festivals, largely
illustrated ii 194

their major and their minor myste
ries too abominable for description
358

Papists, their uncharitableness in denying sal
vation to all Christians out of their
communion i 376

they cannot be saved as idolaters 376
they are guilty of adoring the host,
&c. i&.

they are but a novel people, compared
with the primitive Christians ii 28
their preachers censured 96

Pardon, promises of it to various classes of
sinners ii 94

Parents cautioned how to look on their chil
dren ii217
Party spirit, the dangers of it i 44
Paul, (St.) he kept his body under for the
race and the fight ii 12
an eulogium on his character 13
the time of his rapture into the third
heaven ii 200
the transports of his rapture 201
the obscurity of some parts of his writ
ings arise for the want of historic
> reference 219
he preached Christ at the tribunals
where he was prosecuted for
preaching him 293
he selected three subjects of discourse
before Felix, calculated to convert
that prince t&.
court preachers contrasted with St.
Paul, in a striking apostrophe to
the dignitaries of the church, who
surround the person of Louis XIV.
294

he is a model for preachers 299

Passion, a lawless, favourite passion dangerous
to the soul i 357

the passions defined ii 72

they war against the mind 74

and against reason 76

the disorders they excite in the ima
gination, exceed those excited in
the seasons 75

erroneous inferences from the pas
sions ib.
remedies of passion described 77
philosophical advice for subduing
them, is to avoid idleness and use
mortification 78

GENERAL INDEX.

XI

Passion, an apostrophe to grace for power

over passion ii 82

the illusive happiness acquired by the

passions 347

Perfection, the highest attainable in this life, is

to know death, and not fear it

ii 225

Perseverance, men must be saints before we

exhort them to persevere

H271

we cannot be saved without per
severance 274
the scripture characters founded
their assurance on persevering
to the end ib.
a caveat against unqualified per
severance 275
an address to carnal men, who
hold this doctrine 276
to visionary men 277
to sincere people ib.
models, or examples of perseve
rance 280
Pentecost, the glories of the day ii 307. i 194
Persecution, the agents of it fulfil the pleasure
of the Almighty i 124
a pathetic contrast between the
persecution of the French Pro
testants, and the sufferings of
the Jews, on the destruction
of their city, by Nebuchadnez
zar ii 365
Petavius, the Semi-Arian, refuted by Bishop
Bull i 277
Peter, (St.) his confession of faith i 260
his sermon on the day of Pentecost pos
sessed five excellencies 195
a fine specimen of what he would say,
were he to fill a pulpit 200
his feelings at the transfiguration ii 207
his attachment to the Levitical law 219
six circumstances aggravate his fall 321
the nature of his repentance 323
Phalaris, his cruelty i 87
Pharisees, their hypocrisy traced ii 36
Philo had a notion of the Trinity i 222
Philosophers, their presumption i 78
their ancient errors 175
their prejudices against the gos
pel unreasonable 206
Philosophical apathy, a great evil ii 348
Piety, its excellence i 55
it is distinguished by knowledge, since
rity, sacrifice and zeal ii 35, &c.
Piety is productive of health 38
of reputation ib.
of fortune 39
of happiness ib.
of peace ib.
of confidence in death ib.
the piety of Ephraim and Judah tran
sient 84
so is the piety excited by public calami
ties ib.
by religious festivals 85
by the fear of death 86
transient piety implies a great want of
allegiance to God as a king tft.
exemplified by Ahab 87
it implies an absurdity of character t&.
it is an action of life perverted by a re
turn to folly ib.

Piety, it is incompatible with the whole de
sign of religion 88
it renders God's promises to us doubt
ful ib.
it is imprudent ib.
Piety of taste and sentiment defined 384
the judgment we form of our state un
der privations 385
when privation is general, it indicates
an unregenerate state 387
Pilate, the baseness of his conduct i 173
his cruelty to the Galileans ii 377
Plato, a sketch of his republic ii 278
Plato's opinion of God i 57
Plague, an argument for fasting and humilia
tion ii 349
national plagues sevenfold 352
appalling horrors of the plague 354
Pleasure, mischiefs arising from unlawful in
dulgences i 47. 78
Politeness, as practised by bad men ii 19
Poor, (the) a fine series of arguments in beg
ging for them i 409
Pope, his kingdom compared with Christ's i 185
Popery, sketch of its corruptions, pref. i 5. 205

(see Papists)

Poverty, God who quickeneth and arranges all
things, often leaves his best servants
in indigence and want i 180

Prayer, a source of consolation ii 152

Preachers, the liberty of the French exiles in
that respect ii 84

Preachers, (the primitive) an admirable ad
vantage in addressing the heathen
and the Jews i 197

Predestination, the impossibility of explaining
it; but God, who cannot err,
declares that he offers violence
to no creature, and that our
destruction proceeds from our
selves ii 116
Princes and judges, their qualifications ii 344
Principle, purity of principle must be the ba
sis of all our conduct ii 4
Prophecy, objections against it answered; its
character asserted i 152, &c.
difficulties of affixing a literal
meaning to the prophecies of the
Messiah and his kingdom i 183
Prophecies respecting the fall of Jerusalem

ii 149

Prophecies respecting Christ's death, accom
plished by his sufferings 169
Prophets, how they conducted themselves at
courts i 399
Prophetic eloquence, its superiority i 379
Professional men, the conditions of their sal
vation ii 57
Protestants of France distinguished by their
attendance on public worship,
and on the days of communion
i 16"

the exiles are exhorted to pray for

the restoration of their churches

ii 97

the faith of a Protestant 256

the abject situation of those who

remained in France 289

an address to French Protestants

368, &c.

the care of Providence over them
in exile 366

xii

GENERAL INDEX.

Proverbs of Solomon, some of them reconciled

with his assertions in his Ecclesi-

astes ii 69

Providence, asserted i 75

complaints against it answered

382

complaints against its severity
refuted 383

the doctrine of Providence should
operate on public bodies of
men 392

examples of Providence over na
tions 393
mysteries of Providence in the
succession of Henry Vlltth of
England, from the Roman Pon
tiff; in the singular success of
Zuinglius; in the courage of
Luther ii 102
Christians often reason ill con
cerning Providence 338
six marks of God's mercy and
care of good men, when Jeru
salem was destroyed by the
Chaldeans 368
the same care over the persecut
ed Protestant exiles ib.
Providence has, after one hundred years, an
swered our author's question in
the affirmative, viz: whether the
exile of the Jews and that of
the Protestants, should come to
a similar close 369
Pure (the) all things are pure to them ii 1
Purgatory, unsupported by scripture ii 96
Pyrrhonianism ii 359

Q

Quintus Curtius, his prayer before Carthage

i 69

R

Rabbins, their extraordinary assumptions over

the conscience of the people i 166

Recapitulation of a sermon, fine specimens of it

i 342. ii 112. 265

Redemption, the harmony of the divine attri
butes in this work, as asserted
Psal. xi. Heb. x. 6. Mic. vi. 6,
7. 1 Cor. ii. 9 i 96

three mysteries of redemption
not discovered by reason i&.
Redemption of the soul 264

Reformation, the necessity of it i v

the Reformation in France —
Charles VIII. persecuted the
reformed at Rome, and pro
tected them in Germany vi
it very much increased under
Henry II vii

the house of Bourbon declare
for the reform, and the house
de Guise for the Catholics i&.
the king of Navarre allured by
new promises, desert the Pro
testant cause ix
but the queen of Navarre be
comes its most zealous advo
cate ib.
the duke de Guise commences
a war with the Protestants,
and 50,000 of them are slain x

Reformation, the reformed obtain the free ex
ercise of religion ib.
the massacre of Paris cruelly
plotted under a marriage with
Henry of Navarre ib.
Guise attempts to dethrone
Henry III. by a league xi
Henry IV. of Navarre, embraces
popery, and ascends the
throne xii
the edict of Nantes ib.
the Jesuits founded by Loyola,
no doubt with good intentions,
at first, confounded by Riche
lieu with the Protestants xiii
Louis XIII. persecutes the Pro
testants by Richelieu's advice
ib.

the final revocation of the edict

of Nantes xv

the horrors and the exile of 800,

000 persons xvi

this persecution uniformly

charged on the French clergyj

its impolicy exposed in forty

arguments xvii

the glory of Louis XIV. waned

from that period ib.

Regeneration, character of it 5315

(see Holiness)

its nature laid down in a
change of ideas, a change of
desires, a change of taste, a
change of hopes, a change
of pursuits ii 393

its necessity 401

the necessity of regeneration
demonstrated by the genius
of religion, the wants of man,
and the perfections of God ib.
Religion, progressive in five classes of argu
ments ii 13. 16
its evidences were stronger to the
scripture characters than to us
ii 181

Repentance, some have too much and some
too little sorrow for sin i 97
possibility of a death bed repent
ance proved by six arguments
103

difficulties of a death bed repent
ance 104
character of national repentance
110

the penitential reflections of a
sinner 113

Repentance of a godly sort has sin for its ob
ject ' 306
it is augmented by reflecting on
the number, the enormity, and
the fatal influence of sin 307
exhortation to repentance 312
Repentance described 372. ii 43
a powerful exhortation to repent
ance 51
specimen of a death bed repent
ance 1 14
a series of difficulties attendant
on a death bed repentance 247
three objections answered 246
two prejudices against a protract
ed repentance 268

GENERAL INDEX.

Repentance, a powerful exhortation to repent
ance 269
Reprobation not absolute; but may be advert
ed ill 16
Restitution required i 363
so Judas did ii 114
Resurrection of Christ, the evidences of it di
vided into three classes; presump
tions, proofs, demonstrations
i 187

eight considerations give full
weight to the evidence of the
apostles 188

Christ's resurrection demonstrat
ed by the gifts conferred on
the apostles, and by the same
gifts which they conferred on
others 189

if all these evidences be untrue,
all those who wrought mira
cles must be taxed with im
posture; all the enemies of
Christianity must be taxed
with imbecility; and the whole
multitude which embraced
Christianity, must be blamed
for an extravagance unknown
to society 190

the joy of Christ justified by four
considerations 191

presumptions, proofs, demon
strations of it ii 175
the evidences of Christ's resur
rection has eight distinct cha
racters ib.
the faith in testimony worthy of
credit, is distinguished from
the faith extorted by tyranny
ib.

from the faith of the enthusiast
176

from the faith of superstition 177
Resurrection of saints at Christ's death 167
the resurrection at his second
coming 336

Revelation has a sufficiency of evidence in re
gard to the five classes of unbe
lievers i 202
its doctrines lie within the reach
of the narrowest capacities 203
it was gradually conferred accord
ing to the situation and capaci
ty of the age 344
Revenge, the purpose of it incompatible with
a state of salvation i 356
Rhetoric, oriental i 423
Rich man, (the) apparently taxing providence
with the inadequacy of former
means, by soliciting a new mean
for the conversion of his brethren
i 201

Riches often increase profligacy ii 19

when suddenly acquired they almost

turn a man's brain 346

Righteous, be not righteous over-much ii 7

Righteousness, the word explained i 298

it exalleth a nation 389

five limits of the expression,

righteousness or religion ex-

alteth a nation ib.

it promotes every object of

civil society 390

Xlll

Rome, Christian, her cruelties to the Protes
tants i 240
subterranean Rome, a book of that
title ii 70

Romans, the scope of the epistle to them,
stated i

Sabbath day, punishment threatened for pro
faning it ii 370
the difference of the sabbath with re
gard to the Jews and the Christians
ib.

'." , the origin of the sabbath to demon
strate the origin of the world, and
that God was its creator 371

to prevent idolatry 16.

to promote humanity ib.

to equalize all men in devotion 372
the change of the sabbath from the
seventh, to the first day of the
week 374

reasons why the sabbath is binding
on the Christian church ib.

scandalous profanation of the sabbath
in Holland 375, &c.

an apostrophe to the poor Protestants,
who profane the sabbath in mysti
cal Babylon 376
Sacrament, a fine invitation to it i 85
an awful charge not to neglect it
193

believers invited to it with a view
of acquiring strength to van
quish Satan, and to conquer
death 228

a caution to participate of it with
sanctity 29?

it is often profaned by temporiz
ing communicants ii 85
it is a striking obligation to holi
ness 172
a sacramental address 190
parallel between the Lord's table,
and the table of shew bread in
the temple 193
it is polluted by the want of light,
of virtue, and of religious fer
vour 196
strictures on a precipitate prepa
ration for it 198
addresses of consolation to the de
vout communicant 199
God is present at the sacrament
as on mount Sinai 303
a striking address to those who
neglect it id.
it is a covenant with God 301, &c.
307, &c.

Sacred writers, their talents, which God
seems to have conferred as though
riches and power were too mean
to give i 65

their style possessed every beauty ib.
they delighted to absorb their soul in
the contemplation of God 95

Sacred writings, Saurin had an elegant me
thod of quoting from them, as is ap
parent from ii 146
difficulties of expounding them 334
Sacrifices, (see atonement)

XIV

GENERAL INDEX.

Sacrifices, they passed between the parts of
the victims ii 306

Sailors, character of their repentance ii 268
Saints, their employment in heaven ii 125
the sights presented to the saints after
death 144

they have sighed for immortality and
a better state of the church 145
their happiness in heaven in regard of
f . knowledge 203

of propensity 205

of sensible pleasure 206

what sentiments the ancient saints en
tertained of themselves when under
a cloud 274

danger of presumptive thoughts 275
there is a similarity between us and
the ancient saints in five respects
281,&c.

their high vocation 282

why the saints are still subject to

death 340

Saladin, exposed his shroud to the army

i 263
Sanctification, sin of opposing it ii 312

(see Regeneration and Holiness)
Satan, his victories often ruinous to his king
dom i 76
he seeks to seduce us from the truth
six ways 142
he assails the Christian four ways; by
the illusive maxims of the world, by
the pernicious example of the multi
tude, by threatenings and persecu
tion, and by the attractions of sensu
al pleasure 145
his power is borrowed; limited in dura
tion, in degree; and whatever desire
he may have to destroy us, it cannot
equal the desire of God to save us
227

his design is to render man unlike his
Maker 332

he is the most irregular and miserable
of all beings 370

Saturnalia of the Romans, its origin ii 372
Saul, the king, his consecration accompanied
by the spirit ii 391

Saurin, his life, born at Nismes, escapes with
his father to Geneva i xvii

becomes an ensign in Lord Gallo
way's regiment, which then served
in Switzerland; but on the peace
with France he returned to his stu
dies, and preferred the ministry ib.
preaches five years in London xviii
character of his preaching ib.

he settles at the Hague ib.

is noticed by the Princess of Wales,
afterward queen Caroline, to whom
his son dedicated his posthumous
sermons ib.

his ministry was attended by princes,
magistrates, generals and scientific
men; his courage in reproving 386
Schern, (Rabbi) his contrast between the tem
ple and the palaces of princes i 193
Schoolmen, many of their errors proceeded
from monastic habits, illustrated
by the doctrine of reprobation
i 100
Scripture characters, the distinction between

their momentary defects, and theii

illustrious virtues ii 279

Seal, (see Holy Spirit) ii 308

Self-examination, the method of it ii 186

Simeon, (Luke ii.) three characters of his piety

ii 141

Simeon the Pharisee, four defects in his opi
nion of Christ ii 46
Slander, the sinfulness of it 1386
Septuagint version, a sketch of its history i 2S5
Sinai, its terrors expressive of our Saviour's
agony ii 306
Sin and its punishment are connected ii 350'
the folly of it i 78
its effects 84
its atrocity when wilful 354
the motives to sin incomparably weaker
than the motives to virtue 308
little sin conducive of great crimes 367
the apology of those who charge sin upon
their constitution, not admissible ii 77
Sin causes three sorts of tears to be shed 323
the sin or blasphemy against the Holy
Ghost 328
the sin unto death, as stated by St. John

329

inquiry concerning this sin may proceed
from the melancholy, the timorous,
and the wilful apostates 330

Sinner, hardened and impenitent i 208

Sinners abuse the long-suffering of God, in
the disposition of a devil, a beast,
a philosopher and a man i 111
they reason in a reproachful manner
in regard to their love of esteem,
and honour, and pleasure, and ab
horrence of restraint 226
Sinners are slaves in five respects 269
they must live to expiate their crimes

271

they must glory in Christ alone, but
add watchfulness to their future
conduct i 302

Sinners must not be misguided by the multi
tude ii 33
their complaints of the severity of
God's law, refuted in five argu
ments i381
their best wisdom is to avoid the ob
jects of their passions ii 77
the aggravating characters of their
sin 122
we should weep for them, because of
our connexions with them 124
are very great scourges to society 125
Sinners under the gospel, ottend against supe
rior light 263
against superior motives ib.
against the example of scripture cha
racters, who do not continue in sin
till the end of life 264
against the virtues of those converts ib.
and sinners who delay conversion to
the close of life cannot adduce equal
evidence of their conversion 265
Smuggling and defrauding the revenue, cen
sured i 355
Society cannot subsist without religion, de
monstrated in five arguments i 230
the transition of society from simpli
city of manners, to a style of living
injurious to charity 421

GENERAL INDEX.

Socinius, his system refuted ii 102

Sodom, its abominable sin a proof of God's

long-suffering i 107

Soldiers reproved i 78

Solomon, his great wisdom when a child ii 342

his dream in Gibeon ib.

his recollection of past mercies 343

the aspect under which he considers

the regal dignity ib.

conjecture concerning his age when

called to the throne 344

his preference of wisdom to wealth

345, &c.

his fall demonstrates the difficul
ties attendant on splendid talent
346

the dangers of bad company ib.

the dangers of human grandeur ib.

the beguiling charms of pleasure

347

his situation and experience quali
fied him to be a moralist 62
he introduces different speakers into
his book of Ecclesiastes, as the
epicure, the fool, &c. which ac
count for the dissonance of senti
ments in that book 65
his hatred of life explained ib.
two classes of phantoms seduced his
generous heart 67
absurdities of the schoolmen con
cerning his wisdom ib.
Son, Christ the essential and eternal 1277
Sorrow, six effects of godly sorrow 309
no sorrow like that of the disciples for
their master ii 1 5 1
Sorrow allowed for the death of friends 337
Soul, (the) its excellence inferred from the
efforts of Satan to enslave it i 148
its immortality hoped by the heathens,
and asserted by the gospel 216
its intelligence asserted in five argu
ments 259
its immortality demonstrated 261
its value inferred from the price of re
demption 263
the partisans for the sleeping and anni
hilation of the soul, refuted 335
its essence, operations and union with
the body, inscrutable ii 101
its immortality farther and strongly pre
sumed 214
an immortal spirit should have but a
transient regard for transient good 215
Spinoza, the absurdities of the system he re
vived i 66
Spirit, a doubt whether all that is in the uni
verse be reducible to matter and spirit

173

Statesmen reproved i 78

amenable to the divine laws 377
Stoical obstinacy, a specimen of it in Zeno ii 56
Study, its difficulties for want of means ii 67
S wearing, the sinfulness of it i 407

Superstitious conclusions, caveats against them

U350

details 419

Supralapsarians, censured for denying salva
tion to sincere heathens
i 219

their system refuted in five
arguments • 11 105

Table (the) of the Lord, Mai. i. 6, 7. 11 192

the table of shew bread, &c. 193

Talmud of the Jews, and the Romish missals

compared i 164 •

Teachers are of three classes 144

caution in the choice of teachers ib.
parents warned not to train unre-
generate children for the minis
try 46
the policy of some tenet teachers in
Galatia ii 219
Temptations, the ancient saints resembled us
in these ii 282. 287
a double shield against tempta
tions 290
six temptations from infancy to
old age t&.
Terror, the utility of preaching it; an augur
of what sort of sermons the apostles
would make, were they to see our
lives i 198
it promotes repentance by the uncer
tainty of salvation 308
Tertullian's avowal of the Godhead of Christ

i 280

The Holy Spirit superior in his operations to

the suggestions of Satan i 227

his aids are promised to the ministry, &c.

291

the higher endowments of the Holy Spi
rit, were restored on the coming of the
Messiah ii 143

he requires men to correspond with the
efforts of grace in their conversion 253
the anointing, the seal, and earnest of the
Spirit 308

his agency on the heart 310

he communicates the foretastes of heaven
312, &c,

Thief on the cross, his case strikingly illus
trated ii 264
Thomas, the difference of his faith from ours

ii 178

Time lost, or misapproved ii211

much of our time is lost in lassitude 213

and in the cares of this life 214

Timothy, St. Paul's love to him i 179

Tithes of three kinds 1358

Tongues, the gift of tongues on the day of

Pentecost, had three excellencies

i 196

Transubstantiation, its absurdities 167

it is admirably refuted

191

Trinity, the personality of the Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit, asserted in refuta
tion of Arianism ii 309, &c. i 90
Trinity, demonstrated by Philo i 222

the doctrine stated, and defended
ii 357. 394

advantages of this doctrine 359

Truths, their connexion is a high argument
in favour of revelation i 42

this connexion should induce minis
ters to pursue a regular system 44
Pilate's question, What is truth? 132
it might refer to the Messiah, or to
the truth which the heathens
sought 182

truth defined, and its price 13 J

GENERAL INDEX.

Truth, seven rules to direct our researches
after truth 134

prejudices are highly obstructive in
the acquisition of truth 136

the word of truth exemplified in the
pleasure it affords in qualifying us
to fill our stations in life, in exempt
ing us from unreasonable doubts,
in fortifying us against the ap
proaches of death 138
the radiance of truth is superior to
the glimmerings of error 224
sell not the truth; that is, do not lose
the aptitude of the mind to truth
236

do not make a mercenary use of it

237

do not betray it ib.

this may be done by the adulation of
a courtier ib.

by the zealot who defends a point
with specious arguments 238

by apostacy or by temporizing 239
by perverting judgment in five re
spects 241
by tergiversation in politics 242
by withholding reproof in the pulpit,
in private, and in visits to the sick
243

Truths which have a high degree of evidence,

should be admitted as demonstrated

ii 361

Tyrants, their conduct in persecuting the
church i 176

they are justly censured 322

they are deaf to the glory of oppres
sion ii 30
reflections for a tyrant and infidel
53

u

Unbeliever, (the) his taste, which is low and

brutish i 229

his polities disturb society 230

his indocile and haughty temper

231

his unfounded logic 232

his consequent line of morals 233
his efforts to extinguish con
science 234
he piques himself on politeness,
which is applauded by the
world: yet an apology may be
made for the unbeliever, which
cannot be made for the man
who holds the truth in sin ib.
Unbelievers, their demands of farther evi
dence unreasonable 235
they are divided into five classes
202

their folly in asking a new mi
racle 207
an unbeliever dying in uncer
tainty, pathetically described
210

Union of children with the sin of their fathers

in four respects i 109

Unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost,

opinions concerning it ii 327

Unregenerate, (the) faithfully warned i 104

a serious address to them ii 292

Upright, (the) their praise is wise, real, hum
ble and magnanimous i 130

Vanini, an avowed Atheist, burnt at Toulouse
by sentence of Parliament ii 100

Vanity of opposing God, in four respects ii 53
a caution against opposing God 57
Victims, ten imperfections of them in the au
thor's dissertations ii 192
Veil, in the temple rent ii 166
Virgin Mary, intercession of ii 420
Virtue, the motives to it are superior to the
motives to vice i 226
five characters of the superior virtues

369

Virtues of eternal obligation, as charity, &c.
are of greater weight than temporary
virtues 360

the object of virtues vary their im
portance 361
it is the same with regard to the in
fluence of virtues ib.
the end and design of virtues aug
ment their importance 362
the virtues of worldly men are very
defective ii 31
the virtues of carnal men are often
but the tinsel of their crimes 32
complaints on the impotency of men
to practice virtue, answered in four
respects 119, &c.
every virtue exhibited in the death of
Christ 170
harmony between happiness and vir
tue 350
Vision, the beatific i 327, &r.
Voice of the rod ii 347
Voorburgh, the weeping and rejoicing at the
consecration of the French church
ii 363

w

Wat, a reference to Louis XlVth, and others

i 322

its deplorable effects i 396. ii 89

Ways of God, ways of light, justice and com
passion ii 412
Ways of men, ways of darkness, blasphemy
and despair ii 412
Whiston censured for obtruding the aoostoli-
cal constitutions as genuine i 279
Will, the difference between the efficiency of
the Creator's and the creature's will
i 120

the perfection of the will and sensibility

i260

Wisdom of the world, and the foolishness of
God explained i 212

St. Paul's divine wisdom m the se
lection of arguments, when writ
ing to the Hebrews 282
Witness of the Spirit, (the direct) i 317
see Assurance, and ii 188
see also a note by the translators 386
Woman, the unchaste ii 43
she is distinguished from Mary of
Bethany, and from Mary Magda
lene id.
her repentance had four characters »6.

GENERAL INDEX.

xvii

Woman, a disputation whether her love was
the cause or the effect of her par
don 48
Wood, hay and stubble, are expressive of
light doctrines ii 91
World, the vanity of the 154
its insufficiency to satisfy the soul 147
this world is not the place of felicity

179

its draws us off from truth and virtue

428

vanity of worldly policy in attempt
ing to govern nations by the max
ims of infidelity, rather than those
of religion ii 54

the instability of all worldly good 62
the Christian is crucified to the world

220
the degrees and difficulties of it 221

Worldly minded men faithfully warned i 263.

ii 163

Whether the apostles were ignorant of their
living to the end of the world 336
excellence of the world to come i 55
Works, good works cannot merit heaven i 300
good works must of necessity be con
nected with faith as the fruits ib.
five objections to the contrary, ably
answered 301

Wormwood and gall, a metaphor ii 305

Zacharias, son of Barachiah or Jehoida, the

high priest, with other conjectures

i 108

Zeal exemplified from prophets ii 37

Zuinglius, (Suingle) the Swiss reformer ii 102

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