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SERMON 


ON 


IMPORTANT     SUBJECTS. 


BY    THE    LATE 


REV.  DAVID  TAPPAN,  d.  d, 

aOLLIS    PROFESSOR    OF    DIVINITY    IN    THE    UNIVERSXTT 
AT     CAMBRIDGE. 


TO    WHICH    ARE    PREFIXED    A 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THE  AUTHOR 


AND    A 


SERMON 


PREACHED  AT  HIS  FUNERAL  BY  DR.  HOLMES, 


putli^Jcn 


BY    W.    HILLIARD    AND    LINCOLN  &  EDMANDS,    AND    FOR     SALE 

AT    THE    BOOKSTORE    IN    CAMBRIDGE,    AND    AT 

mo,    53,    CORNHILL,    BOSTON. 

1807, 


DISTRICT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS,  to  wit 


E  it  remembered,  that  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  August, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousund  eight  himdred  and 
seven,  m  the  thirty-second  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  Unit- 
ed States  of  America,  Mary  Tulijian^  of  said  District,  has  de- 
posited in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  she 
claims  as  proprietor,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit :  "  Sermons 
"  on  important  Subjects,  by  the  late  Rev.  David  Tappan,  d.  d. 
"  Hollis  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the  University  at  Cambridge. 
"  To  which  are  prefixed  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author  j 
"  and  a  Sermon  preached  at  his  Funeral  by  Dr.  Holmes." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
'  intituled,  "  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  sc- 
'  curing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors 
'  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  men- 
'  tioned  :"  and  also  to  an  Act,  intitled,  "  An  Act  supplementa- 
'  ry  to  an  Act,  intitled.  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learn- 
'  ing,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the 
'  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  there- 
'  in  mentioned  ;  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts 
'  of  designing,    engraving,    and  etching   historical    and   other 


prints. 


WILLIAM  S.  SHAW,  Clerk  of  the  District  of 
JMassachusctts, 


A  true  copy  of  Record, 
Attest,  W.  S.  SHAW,  Clerk. 


AD  VER  TISEMENT. 


THE  Discourses,  which  constitute  this 
volume,  were  selected  froiTi  the  maiui- 
cripts  of  the  author,  since  his  decease,  by 
a  number  of  his  friends,  who  carefully 
revised,  and  in  most  instances  transcribed 
them  for  the  press.  As  these  Sermons 
were  not  written  for  publication,  some  ver- 
bal and  other  minute  alterations  became 
necessary  previously  to  their  appearance  in 
print ;  these  the  editors  have  taken  the 
liberty  to  make  ;  but  in  no  instance  have 
they  intentionally  changed  the  meaning 
of  the  author. 

The  editors  are  responsible  for  the  se^ 
lection  of  these  discourses,  and  the  print- 
ers for  the  correctness  and  neatness  of  the 
dress  in  which  they  appear.  In  respect 
both  to  the  matter  and  the  execution,  a 
hope  is  entertained,  that  the  patrons  of 
the  work  will  be  gratified. 

Short  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  the  Author 
are  prefixed  to  this  volume,  containing 
facts  and  information  not  to  be  found  in 
Dr.  Holmes'  discourse  delivered  at  his  fu- 
neral, which  is  prefixed  to  this  volume. 


iv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  editors  have  fulfilled  a  task,  which 
has  cost  them  considerable  attention  and 
labour  ;  but  they  have  an  ample  reward 
in  reflecting,  that  they  have  rescued  from 
oblivion  the  productions  of  a  man  of  ge- 
nius, learning,  and  piety,  which  will  be 
read  with  delight  and  improvement,  not 
only  by  the  present,  but  by  future  gen- 
erations. 

With  affectionate  respect  to  the  memory 
of  the  author,  these  discourses  are  humbly 
commended  to  the  blessing  of  Heaven, 
and  the  patronage  of  the  friends  of  Chris- 
tain  truth,  by 

THE  EDITORS. 

Aug.  20,  1807. 


CON  TENTS. 


Page 

MEMOIRS  of  the  Author. 

Discourse  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Author,  by  Dr.  Holmes. 

SERMON  I. 

On  Christian  Zeal.  3 

Rev.   iii,  19.      Be  zealoua. 

SERMON  II. 

On  brotherly  Reproof.  20 

Lev.  xix.  1 7 .  Thou  shalt  not  hate  thy  brother  in  thine  heart  ; 
thou  shalt  in  any  wise  rebuke  thy  neighbour^  and  not  suffer  sin 
upon  him. 

SERMON  III. 

On  Secret  Faults  and  Presumptuous  Sins.         35 

Psalm  xlx.  12,  13.  Who  can  understand  his  errors?  Cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults.  Keep  back  thy  servant  also  from 
prestanptuous  sins.  Let  thera  not  have  dominion  over  me. 
Then  shall  I  be  upright  ;  and  I  shall  be  innocent  from  the 
great  transgression. 

SERMON  IV. 

On   the  Love  of  God.  45 

Mark  xii.  30.  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with 
all  thy  strength  :   this  is  the  first  and  great  commaTuiment. 

SERMON  V. 

On  the  Love  of  our  Neighbour.  55 

Mark  xii.  31.     ~'lnd  the  second  is  like  unto  it,  namely,  this,  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 

,  SERMON  Yl. 

On  Christian    Charity.  67 

1  Cor.  xiii.  13.     IVic  greatest  of  these  is  Charity, 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


1  Cof.  xlii.  IS. 


SERMON  VIL 

On  Chiistian   Charity. 

The  greatest  of  these  is  Charity, 


77 


James  iii.  8. 


SERMON  VIII. 
On  the  Vices  of  the  Tongue. 

But  the  tongue  can  no  man  tame  ;  it  is  aii  unruly 
evil,  full  of  deadly  poison. 


SERMON  IX. 

The  Cliaracter  of  a  Wise  Man. 

Psalm  iii.  10.      The  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  begiiining  of  JVisdom. 


99 


SERMON  X. 
On  the  Pleasures  of  Religion.  112 

Proverbs  xxiv.  13,  14.  My  son^  cat  thou  honey,  because  it  is 
good  ;  and  the  honeycomb,  which  is  siueet  to  thy  taste  :  so  shall 
the  knowledge  of  wisdom  be  to  thy  soul.  When  thou  hast  found 
it,  then  there  shall  be  a  reward,  and  thy  eocjicctation  shall  not 
be  cut  off. 

SERMON  XL 

The  Want  of  a  practical  Regard  to  religious  Truth, 

the  Cause  of  dangerous  speculative  Errors.  128 

2  Thessaloniaiis  ii.  10,  1 1,  and  12.  Because  they  received  riot 
the  love  of  the  truth  that  they  might  be  saved  ;  for  this  cause 
God  shall  send  them  strong  delusion,  that  they  should  believe  a 
lie  ;  that  they  all  might  be  damned,  who  believed  not  the  truth, 
but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousiiess . 

SERMON  XII. 
Naaman   the   Leper.  140 

2  Kint^s  V.  10 — 14.  And F.lisha  sent  a  messenger  unto  hi.m,saying. 
Go  a?id  wash  in  Jordan  seven  times,  and  thy  flesh  shall  come 
again  to  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  clean.  But  Kaaman  was 
ivroth,  and  went  away ^  and  said,  Behold,  I  thought,  he  will  surer 
ly  come  out  to  me,  and  stand,  and  call  on  the  nanie  vf  the  Lord 
his  God,  and  strike  his  hand  over  the  place,  and  recover  the 
leper,  ylre  not  Abana  and  P harp ar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  bet' 
ter  than  all  the  waters  of  Israel  ?  May  I  not  wash  in  them 
and  be  clean  ?  So  he  turned  and  went  awau  in  a  rage.  And 
his  servant  ca?ne   near,   and   spake  unto   him,  and  aaid,  My 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

Page 
father^  if  the  firojihet  had  bid  thee  do  some  great  things  ivoiddest 
thou  not  have  done  it  ?  How  -much  rather  then,  ivhen  hs 
saith  imto  thce^  wash  and  be  clean  ?  Then  went  he  down  and 
dipped  himself  seven  times  in  Jordan.^  according  to  the  saying 
of  the  man  of  God  ;  and  his  flesh  came  again  like  the  flesh  of 
a  little  child  ;  and  he  was  clean. 

SERMON  XIII. 

On  the  Love  of  the  ^Vorlcl.  151 

1  John  ii.  15.  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are 
in  the  world.  If  any  man  love  the  worlds  the  love  of  the  Father 
is  not  in  him. 

SERMON  XIV. 
On  the  Divine  Preference  of  Mercy  to  Sacrifice.     164 

Matthew  xii.  7 .     I  will  have  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice. 

SER?40N  XV. 
On  Christian  Hope.  179 

1  John  iii.  3»     Every  man  that  hath  this  hope   in  him^  fiurifieth 
himself  even  as  he  is  pure, 

SERMON  XVI. 

The  Christian  Pattern.  189 

Philippians  ii.  5.     Let  this   mind  be  in   you,  which  was   also   in. 
Christ  Jesus. 

SERMON  XVII. 

Religious  Joy  explained  and  recommended.        200 

Philippians  iv.  4.     Rejoice  in  the  Lord  alway  ;  and  again  I  say, 

rejoice. 

SERMON  XVIII. 

Religious  Joy  explained  and  recommended.       210 

Philippians  iv.  4.     Rejoice   in   the  Lord  alway  ;    and   again   I 

say,  rejoice. 


On  Prayer.  229 

Matthew  vi.  9,  10.     Hallowed  be  thy  name  ;  thy  kingdom  come  ; 
thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven. 


Till  C  0  N  T  E  JT  T  S. 

Pa^e 

SERMON  XX, 
The  Spirit,  Employment,  and  Design,  of  the  Chris- 
tian Ministry.  246 

Ephesians  iii.  S,  9,  10.  Unto  me^  who  am  less  than  the  least  of 
all  saints^  is  this  grace  given.,  that  I  should  fir  each  among  the 
Gentiles  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ  ;  and  to  make  all 
men  see  what  is  the  fellowshiji  of  the  mystery.,  ivhich  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world  hath  been  hid  in  God,  who  created  all 
things  by  Jesus  Christ  :  To  the  intent,  that  now,  unto  the 
principalities,  in  heavenly  filaces,  might  be  known  by  the  church 
the  manifold  wisdom  of  God. 

SERMON  XXI. 

The  Benefits  of  Afliiction.  269 

Hebrews  xii .  9, 10.  Furthermore,  we  have  had  fathers  of  our  flesh., 
who  corrected  us,  and  we  gave  them  reverence  ;  shall  we  not 
viuch  rather  be  in  subjection  to  the  Father  of  spirits,  and  live  ? 
For  they  -verily  for  a  few  days  chastened  us  after  their  own 
pleasure  ;  but  he,  for  our  profit,  that  we  might  be  partakers 
cf  his  holiness, 

SERMON  XXII. 
On  the  Duty  and  Advantages  of  worshipping  God.    282 

Psalm  xcv.  6.     O   come,  let  us  worship  and  bow  down  ;    let  us 
kneel  before  the   Lord  our  Maker. 

SERMON  XXIII. 
On  Forgiveness.  295 

Matthew  vi.  12.      Forgive  us    our   debts,  as  we  forgive   our 

debtors.. 

SERMON  XXIV. 

On   tlic  Connexion  between  denying  the  Son  and 

denying  the  Father.  310 

i  John  ii.  23.      Whosoever  denieth  the    Son,   the  same  hath  not 

the  Father  ;     but  he   that  acknowledgeth    the    Son,  hath  the 

Father  also. 

SERMON  XXV. 

Religion  the  one  Thing  needful.  321 

Luke   X.  42.      But  one   thijig  is   needful. 


MEMOIRS 

OF    THE 

iLife,  Character,  anD  mvitiriQ^ 

OF    THE 

REV.  DAVID  TAPPAN,  d.  d. 


O  record  the  principal  events  in  the  lives  of  emi- 
nent men,  and  to  delineate  their  characters,  has  always 
been  considered  a  useful  undertaking.  "  We  naturally 
wish  to  be  acquainted  with  those,  who  delight  and  in- 
struct us,  and  to  whose  labours  we  feel  ourselves  in- 
debted. Biographical  memoirs,  if  faithfully  executed, 
gratify  this  wish."  We  are  peculiarly  interested,  when 
w^e  behold  a  remarkable  genius  early  displaying  its  pow- 
ers, growing  up  to  quick  maturity,  devoted  to  the  most 
useful  and  sacred  purposes,  and  cut  off  by  death  in  the 
midst  of  its  activity.  Examples  of  this  kind  proclaim 
to  us  the  uncertain  tenure  of  human  life,  and  yet  teach 
us,  that  those,  who  have  only  a  short  passage  through 
this  world,  may  confer  permanent  benefits  on  mankind, 
and  obtain  a  place  in  their  esteem  more  lasting,  and 
more  honourable,  than  monuments  of  stone. 

The  Creator,  designing  the  subject  of  these  memoirs 
for  a  very  important  station,  imparted  to  him  corres- 
ponding advantages.  By  the  talents  which  he  inherited 
from  nature,  together  with  his  moral  and  literary  im- 
provements, he  was  qualified  for  extensive  usefulness. 
He  was  born  April  21,  1752.  His  father,  the  Rev. 
Benjamin  Tappan,  of  Manchester,  had  the  principal 
s 


10  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

care  of  his  first  years,  and  taught  him  the  clen.. 
knowledge.  Early  in  hfe  he  discovered  marks  of  a  . 
ingenious,  active  mind.  Before  his  admission  into  hj.- 
uni\  crsit}%  he  was  placed,  for  a  time,  under  the  tuition 
of  Mr.  Samuel  Moody,  Preceptor  of  Dummer  Acad- 
emy. At  the  age  of  fourteen  years  he  -was  admitted 
into  Harvard  University.  There,  rising  above  juvenile 
follies  and  vices,  and  maintaining  the  character  of  a 
soberminded  and  virtuous  vouth,  he  dili2:entlv  and  sue- 
eessfully  sought  useful  knowledge.  Extending  his 
vie\vs  into  future  lin-,  he  preferred  those  attainments, 
which  are  solid  and  durable,  before  those  ^vhich  are 
showy  or  splendid.  He  \vas  distinguished  for  ardent 
love  of  knowledge,  for  his  blameless  and  serious  con- 
duct, and  for  his  dutiful  regard  to  the  laws  and  guides 
of  the  institution.* 

After  leaving  the  uni\'ersity,  he  assiduously  devoted 
his  mind,  more  than  two  years,  to  the  study  of  divinity, 
though  occasionally  em]:)loyed  in  teaching  a  school.  In- 
deed he  had  besto\\"cd  im  uncommon  sliarc  of  attention 
on  moral  and  religious  subjects  while  at  college,  and 
from  his  earliest  3'outh.  Beside  which,  it  is  to  be  re- 
membered, that  early  maturity  was  a  remarkable  trait  in 
the  character  of  his  mind.  Accordingly,  his  first  per- 
formances in  the  desk  displayed  a  fund  of  theological  in- 
formation, procured  hitn  a  high  place  in  the  public  es^ 

The  follo'u:hig  notes  are  extracted  from  a  vranuscript  sermon  delivered  shortly 
after  the  death  of  Br.  Tappan,  by  a  very  intimate  and  discerning  friend,  and 
brother  in  the  ministry,  who  fur  viany  years  vms  united  •xvith  hint  in  the  same 
Association. 

*  During- the  third  year  of  liis  collegiate  life,  "  a  sickness,  which  broiic^ht 
him  to  a  near  view  of  death,  was  the  means  of  such  awakciiing;  and  convic- 
tions, as  he  Ivad  not  known  before,  and  was  followed,  some  months  after, 
with  such  views  of  mind  and  actings  of  heart  in  divine  things,  as  gave  a 
new  direction  even  to  his  unblamed  and  comparatively  innocent  life." 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  11 

teem,  and  indicated  the  eminence,  which  he  aftenvard 
attained.  His  hearers  were  surprised  with  the  extent 
and  pertinence  of  liis  thoughts,  with  his  accurate  and 
copious  style,  with  the  animation  and  solemnity  of  his 
utterance,  and  the  fervour  of  his  devotions. 

A  very  harmonious  church  and  society  in  Newbury 
soon  invited  his  ministerial  labours.  At  the  age  of  twen- 
ty-one, he  ^^•as  ordained  the  pastor  of  that  flock^  in  which 
office  he  continued  about  eighteen  years. 

He  chose  the  sacred  office  from  piinciple.  It  was  his 
deliberate  judgment,  that  the  gospel  ministry  is,  of  ail 
professions,  the  most  important  to  mankind.  That  work 
involving  the  best  interests  of  intelligent  creatures,  ac- 
corded witii  his  benevolence  and  piety.  He  made  it 
the  deligiitful  business  of  his  life  to  recommend  to 
others  that  Saviour,  whose  glory  had  captivated  his  heart. 
He  had  the  peculiar  ad^^antage,  \\hich  belongs  to  all 
ministers,  who  are  called  of  God,  that  when  he  preached 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  *'  he  spake  what  he 
knew,  and  testified  Mhat  he  had  seen.'*  To  this  un- 
doubtedly must  be  ascribed,  in  a  great  measure,  his  im- 
pressive manner  of  preaching.  He  spake  from  the  ful- 
ness of  his  heart.  No  hearer  could  doubt,  that  he  felt 
the  reality  and  eternal  importance  of  the  truths  he 
delivered.  ---v^ 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  evangelical.  The  peculiar 
contents  of  the  gospel  were  the  principal  subjects  of  his 
discourses,  "'.^He  determined  to  know  nothing,  save 
Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified."  The  gospel,  as  a  reve- 
lation of  grace  to  sinners,  was  the  great  subject,  which 
he  studied  and  explained.  "  Sensible  that  the  revela- 
tion of  mediatorial  mercy  is  the  chosen  instrument  of 
sa^•ing  a  ruined  \A'orld ;  that  he  was  divinely  commis- 
sioned to  publish  and  enforce  it  for  this  end ;  and  that 


12  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

its  final  completion  will  embrace  the  order,  perfection, 
and  hLippiness  of  the  moral  world,  and  the  highest  glory 
of  its  Author  ;  he  dwelt  upon  the  sublime  subject  with 
eager  and  profound  attention."*  Those  doctrines, 
which  are  the  groundwork  of  revelation,  were  tlie 
groundwork  of  his  preaching.  Scarcely  a  sermon  came 
from  his  lips,  in  which  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  evan- 
gelical truth  were  not  found. 

He  was  a  very  practical  preacher.  Every  gospel 
doctrine,  he  insisted,  has  its  corresponding  precept  and 
duty.  Speaking  of  the  doctrines  of  human  depravity, 
and  salvation  by  the  mercy  of  God,  the  atonement  of 
Christ,  and  the  sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  he  says; 
*'  from  these  doctrines  immediately  ifcsult  the  duties  of 
evangelical  repentance  and  humility*,  faith  and  hope, 
gratitude  and  love,  obedience  and  joy."  He  gave  it  as 
his  opinion,  "  that  Christian  piety  and  morality  must  rise 
or  fall,  as  the  doctrines  of  grace,  which  support  and  ex- 
alt them,  are  regarded  or  neglected."  By  these  senti- 
ments he  regulated  his  preaching.  Whenever  he  incul- 
cated the  duties  of  Christianity,  he  did  it  chiefly  by  evan- 
gelical motives.  Whenever  lie  described  a  good  man, 
he  described  him,  as  a  character  formed  upon  gospel 
principles ;  as  a  redeemed  penitent  sinner,  pardoned 
through  Christ,  and  regenerated  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 
He  represented  the  believer's  inward  exercises  and  whole 
practice,  as  having  a  constant  respect  to  the  great  scheme 
of  mediatorial  grace.  In  his  painting  of  virtue  and  relig- 
ion you  would  not  see  the  image  of  Seneca  or  Plato, 
but  that  of  DaA'id  or  Paul.  You  ^vould  hear  die  Chris- 
tian, of  his  describing,  humbly  proclaiming  the  abundant 
grace  of  Christ,  and,  from  a  heart  enraptured  with  his  di- 
vine beauty,  crying  out,  "  Unto  him,  who  hath  loved  us, 

*  Dr.  Tappan's  own  words  in  describing  a  Christian  minister. 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  13 

and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  blood,  be  honour  and 
glory  forever."  At  the  same  time  he  made  it  appear, 
that  such  affection  to  Christ  is  not  only  the  surest  evi- 
dence of  an  upright  heart,  but  the  most  ejRicacious  mo^ 
live  to  a  pious  and  useful  life. 

Dr.  Tappan  was  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
plain  and  distinguishing  preaching.     He  was  happy  in 
commanding  a  style,  which  had  charms  for  all.     While 
the  refined  hearer  enjoyed  its  flowing  elegance,   the  un- 
refined was  edified  with  its  plainness.     Deeply  affected 
himself  with  the  necessity  and  worth  of  true  religion,  he 
laboured  to  describe  it  intelligibly  and  correctly,  and  to 
discriminate  its  saving  exercises  and  fruits  from  every 
deceitful  imitatijl|.     To  this  work  his  mind  U'as  early 
directed  by  the  {l|usal  of  Edwards'  Treatise  on  Re- 
ligious Aflections.    It  was  often  the  drift  of  his  discourses 
to  point  out  the  essential  difference  between  the  sanctified 
affections  of  the  believer,  and  the  best  exercises  of  the 
unrenewed  heart.     It  was  his  serious  endeavour,    "to 
lay  open  the  human  heart  to  the  view  of  mankind ;  to 
trace  its  windings,   its  disguises,   its  corruptions ;    to 
expand  all  its  latent  seeds  of  abomination  ;  to  pluck  oiT 
its  mask  of  apparent  virtue  ;  to  unfold  the  secret  princi- 
ples of  human  conduct,  and  distinguish  appearances 
from  realities  ;  to  detect  the  various  biasses  of  self  love 
and  self  deceit;    to  delineate  every  shape  and  form, 
which  the  unsanctified  heart  in  various  circumstances 
will  assume,  so  that  every  sinner  might  see  and  recog- 
nise himself  in  the  draught,  and  all  classes  of  natural 
men ....  might  so  perceive  their  moral  diseases,  as  ini» 
mediately  to  look  for  a  suitable  remedy."* 

He  was  a  very  affectionate  preacher.     When  address- 
ing his  fellow  immortals,  his  heart  was  often  enlarged 

*  Dr.  T.'s  sermon  at  the  ordination  of  Rev.  Timothy  Dickinson, 


14  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

and  melted.  His  countenance,  his  voice,  his  gestures 
had  all  the  natural  marks  of  kind  concern.  His  hearers, 
however  repro"\'ed  and  alarmed,  were  convinced,  that  he 
spoke  from  love ;  that  the  mortitVing  reproof  and  pain- 
ful alarm  he  gave,  were  meant  for  their  good.  They 
saw  and  felt,  that  tlie  preaclier  was  an  ardent  friend  to 
their  souls,  and  that  he  did  not  inflict  the  wound,  M'hich 
faithfulness  required  him  to  inflict,  without  reluctance 
and  grief* 

He  studied  variety  in  his  preaching.  He  thought  a 
minister's  usefulness  greatly  abridged;  by  confining  him- 
self ^^'ithin  a  small  circle  of  favourite  speculations. 
Accordingly  he  took  an  extensive  ran^,  and  aimed  to 
introduce  that  pleasing  variety  of  topic^R\'hich  the  scrip- 
tures furnisli ;  though,  after  all,  it  waWnanifest,  that  he 
made  evangelical  religion  the  sum  and  centre  of  his 
preaching.  The  A'ariety  in  his  preaching  was  increased 
by  his  method  of  adapting  his  performances  to  particular 
occasions.  In  this  he  discoA'ered  remarkable  facility  and 
pertinence.  He  readily  entered  into  the  spirit  of  e^'cry 
occasion,  and  said  what  was  suitable  and  impressive. 
Beside  his  appropriate  performances  on  sacramental  and 
funeral  occasions,  he  fi-equc!uly  noticed  the  great  e\'ents 
of  Providence  in  the  natiu'al,  civil,  and  religious  w  orld, 
and  used  them  to  elucidate  some  interesting  truth,  or  en- 
force some  important  duty. 

•  *'  It  is  probable,  that  Lis  ^rcat  modesty  and  meekness  disarmed  envr, 
and  called  forth  a  sentiment  at  once  tender  and  respectful.  He  was  not 
a  thundering  preacher  ;  but  he  spoke  in  a  manner  eminently  enli.cjhtcned, 
energetic,  and  persuasive ;  and  perhaps  the  meekness  of  his  air  was  a 
foil,  to  set  off  the  strong  sensibilities  of  his  mind.  His  elocution  was  not 
of  tlie  splendid  kind ;  but  it  was  nature  fceling-ly  expi-essed.  All  his  soul 
pntercd  into  his  sermons  Every  distinct  subject  appeared  deeply  to  im- 
press him  ;  and  the  vivid  perceptions  of  his  mind  enlivened  every  sen- 
tence and  every  word.  He  had,  above  most  others,  tlie  faculty  of  losinjf 
hiicself  in  his  subject." 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN,-  IS 

In  the  Christian  pastor  we  seldom  find  so  much  to  be 
admired,  as  in  Dr.  Tappan.  His  virtues  and  exertions, 
as  a  minister,  seemed  evidently  to  result  from  his  person- 
al piety.  This  gave  beauty,  uniformity,  and  usefulness 
to  his  whole  pastoral  character.  What  he  did  for  the 
promotion  of  religion,  he  did,  not  because  his  reputation 
and  office  required  it,  but  because  he  had  an  operative, 
abiding  con\iction,  that  religion  is  unspeakably  amiable 
in  itself,  and  above  all  things  interesting  to  men.  In  the 
discharge  of  his  sacred  duties,  he  appeared  only  to  act 
out  the  benevolence,  the  humility,  the  meekness,  and 
the  devotion,  which  divine  grace  had  wrought  in  his 
own  soul. 

With  powers  qk  mind  and  qualities  of  heart,  \\hich 
attracted  general  esteem  and  admiration,  he  ^^■as  modest 
and  humble,  delicate  and  unassuming,  e\'er  attentive  to 
the  claims  of  others,  and  ready  to  sacrifice  his  own.  He 
relished  the  condescending  and  self  denying  duties  of  his 
ofiice,  taking  pleasure  "  in  instructing,  reproving,  and 
comforting  the  lowest  forms  of  human  nature."  His 
meekness  was  as  remarkable,  as  his  humilit}".  His  sa- 
cred office,  giving  him  intercourse  ^ith  persons  of 
c\'ery  character,  called  for  the  frequent  exercise  of  Chris- 
tian meekness.  When  tried  by  the  ignorance  and 
stupidity,  or  by  the  perverseness  and  injustice  of  men, 
he  was  calm  and  collected.  The  irritation  of  others  did 
not  irritate  him. 

He  ivas  remarhahly  free  from  a  ^worldly  spirit.  For 
earthly  riches  and  grandeur  he  had  no  relish.  Far  no- 
bler objects  occupied  his  thoughts,  attracted  his  lo\-e, 
and  roused  his  exertions.  The  riches  of  religion,  the* 
attainment  of  knowledge  and  holiness,Hhe  spread  of 
evangelical  truth,  the  display  of  divine  perfection,  the 
salvation  of  men, — these  were  the  «;reat  objects,  ^^•hL'^;Il 


IG  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

commanded  his  mind  and  heart.     His  soul  seemed  to 
be  exalted  above  those  contrivances  and  cares,  which 
are  necessary  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth.     His  insatia- 
ble thirst  for  knowledge,   and  his  sedulous  attention  to 
pastoral  dudes,    left   him    little   opportunity  and  little 
inclination  for  worldly  concerns.     His  temporal  interests 
were,  therefore,  chiefly  entrusted  to  the  prudence  and 
fidelity  of  others.     Superior  to  fretfulness  and  anxiety, 
he  accepted,   without  murmuring,  a  salary  quite  inade- 
quate to  his  support,  humbly  confiding  in  the  bounty  of 
Providence,  and  in  the  generosity  of  affectionate  individ- 
uals.    His  moral  taste  was  so  refined,  and  the  plan  of 
his  conduct  so  devout,  that  it  was  his  uieliberate  choice 
to  live  at  a  distance  from  luxury  and#show.     What  he 
possessed  of  this  world's  goods,  he  valued  chiefly  as  the 
means,  not  of  private  gratification,  but  of  promoting  the 
welfare   of  others.      Free,   in  a  good  measure,  from 
the  incumbrance   of   worldly   cares    and   pursuits,  he 
consecrated  his  talents  to   sacred  duties.      While  he 
sustained  the  pastoral  office,  he  devoted  a  great  por- 
tion of  his  time  to  study. ^^     His  acquaintance  with  the 
old  English  authors  was  extensive.     The  treasures  of 
truth  contained  in  Owen,  Howe,  Goodwin,  Bates,  Bax- 
ter,  &c.  raised  them  in  his  estimation  far  above  the 
£»Teater  part  of  more  polished  moderns.   The  best  models 
of  refined   composition  he,   nevertheless,   studied  with 
diligence,  and  imitated  with  success.     What  the  old 
authors  wanted  in  point  of  elegance,  he  aimed  to  sup- 
ply from  accom'plished  moderns.     And  what  most  of 
the  moderns  want  in  point  of  solid  information,  he  sup- 

•  "  With  all  that  was  remavkable  in  liim,  nothing  was  more  so,  than  con- 
stant mental  action,  and  an  ardent  desire  to  be  ever  improving'.  Hence  he, 
was  as  nncommon  a  hearer,  as  speaker  ;  his  eye,  his  attention,  miremitting'- 
ly  fixed,  so  that  notliin^  of  consequence  seemed  to  escape  him  ;  and  he 
was  very  happy  in  retaining'  the  valuable  ideas,  he  had  once  acquired." 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR,  TAPPAN,  l7 

plied  from  the  old  authors.  In  the  old  authors  he  found 
the  body  of  divine  truth  ;  in  the  new,  its  more  comely 
and  engaging  dress. 

Though  his  abilities  might  have  raised  him  to  emi- 
nence in  general  erudition  ;  he  wisely  chose  to  limit  his 
attention  principally  to  those  branches  of  knowledge, 
which  are  allied  to  theology,  and  have  the  most  promis- 
ing influence  on  ministerial  usefulness.  He  never  sa- 
crificed to  ambition  or  taste  the  regular  duties  of  his 
office.  First  of  all  he  attended  to  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry. His  stated  sermons  he  composed  with  much 
study  and  accuracy.  He  carefully  furnished  himself 
for  every  common  as  well,  as  for  every  special 
occasion.  Thou^  his  apprehension  was  quick  and 
his  invention  fertile  ;  and  though  he  had  a  remark- 
able facility  in  fixing  his  attention,  and  in  arranging  and 
expressing  his  thoughts  ;  yet  he  did  not  allow  himself  to 
enter  the  desk  without  thorough  preparation.  For  sev- 
eral years,  he  wrote  his  discourses  at  full  length.  But  af- 
terward his  increasing  employments  and  avocations  fre- 
quently permitted  him  to  write  only  the  plan  and  leading 
sentiments ;  and  sometimes  he  preached  wholly  extem- 
pore. 

For  the  duties  and  delights  of  friendship  he  was  pe- 
culiarly formed.  His  religion  disposed  him  to  sympa- 
thy, tenderness,  and  love.  Kind  affection  lighted  up  his 
countenance,  gave  a  delightful  glow  to  his  conversation, 
and  cheerfulness  to  every  beneficent  action  he  performed. 
In  him  appeared  true  Christian  politeness.  The  gentle- 
ness and  suavity  of  his  manners  were  not  the  substitute, 
but  the  spontaneous  expression  of  sincere  kindness.  So 
mild  and  obliging  was  his  disposition,  that  it  cost  him 
an  effort  to  refuse  even  an  improper  request,  or  in  any 
c 


18  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

\\"ay  to  g'uc  pain  to  others.  In  the  vvliole  intercourse  of 
social  iiie  he  was  studious  to  please,  cautious  of  ofteiid- 
in_^,  and  slow  to  be  offended.  His  deportment  and  con- 
versation bespoke  an  unsuspecting  simplicity  of  heart,  a 
dignilit  d  sense  of  propriety,  and  serious  regard  to  moral 
and  religious  obligation.  He  maintained  a  chaste  and 
sober  cheerfuhiess,  by  which  he  constandy  gave  evi- 
dence, that  religion  is  a  productive  source  of  the  best 
enjoyments. 

His  people  always  found  him  a  friend,  a  brother,  a 
father.  He  v.  as  a  guide  to  inexperienced  youth,  a  pious 
comforter  to  old  age,  a  counsellor  in  difficulties,  a  sup- 
port to  the  afflicted.  In  the  chamber  of  sickness  he  was 
a  serious,  tender,  and  prayerful  visitant.  And  \\hile  he 
delighted  to  participate  and  sooth  the  troubles  of  his 
people,  he  was  no  less  ready  to  rejoice  in  their  prosperi- 
tv,  arid  to  esteem  their  happiness  a  part  of  his  own. 
Lo\  e  seemed  to  be  the  ruling  principle  of  his  pastoral 
conduxt.  Even  when  he  administered  reproof  to  any 
of  his  flock,  a  task  the  least  of  all  congenial  to  his  feelings, 
he  gave  them  e\'idence,  that  their  reprover  was  their 
friend. 

The  cause  of  vital,  experimental  religion  was  dear  to 
his  heart.  With  great  satisfaction  he  read  accounts  of 
what  God  had  recently  done  in  many  parts  of  the  world. 
He  rejoiced  to  observe  the  deep  religious  impressions, 
which  usually  take  place  where  God  pours  out  his  Spir- 
it. To  promote  such  impressions  among  his  own  peo- 
ple, particularh'  in  the  latter  years  of  his  pastoral  work, 
he  was  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  season. 

He  was  a  'ocvy  ardent  friend  to  his  country.  United 
by  the  strongest  affection  to  the  cause  of  the  public,  he 
warmly  esj)oused  the  ])rinciples  of  those  men,  whom  he 
considered  as  honest  patriots.     In  conformity  to  those 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  19 

principles,  he  vindicated  die  rights,  iirifolded  the  dan- 
gers, and  inculcated  the  duties  of  his  country,  \\'ithout 
entering  into  the  violence  of  party  spirit,  or  detracting 
from  the  dignity  and  sacredncss  of  his  station. 

He  possessed  an  uncommon  degree  of  Christian  can- 
dour ;  that  candour  Mhich  is  tlic  operation  of  an  enlarged 
mind  and  a  benevolent  heart.     He  v.as  an  equitalj'e 
judge  of  the  characters,  and  a  mild  interpreter  of  the  ac- 
tions  of  men.     Toward  them,  wlio  differed  from  him  in 
belief,  he  cherished  a  very  kind  and  generous  affection. 
He  knew  too  well  the  constitution  of  tlie  human  mind ; 
he  had  too  much  regard  to  the  right  of  private  judg- 
ment and  the  use  of  free  inquiry  ;   he  w<y?>  too  ^\  ise,  too 
modest,  and  too  just  to  indulge  in  him.self,  or  to  encour- 
age in  others  a  dogmatical,  intolerant  spirit.   His  candour 
prevented  him  from  passing  sentence  upon  persons  or 
things  without  the  authority  of  scripture ;  from  giving 
^^•ay  to   groundless   suspicions   and  jealousies  ;     from 
judging  of  men's  state  with  reference  to  divine  accep- 
tance, upon  grounds  not  expressly  determined  by  the 
gospel ;    from  imputing  to  others  opinions,  which  they 
disavow,  and  from  overlooking  their  excellencies,  be- 
cause mingled  with  faults.  His  candour  was  a  branch  of 
that  lo've^  %\)hich  sujjercth  long  and  is  kind ;  iv/iich  think- 
eth  no  eml ;  ivhic/i  beareth  all  things,  belicveth  all  things, 
hopetli  all  things^  endurcth  all  things.     His  charity  uas 
benevolence  ;    benevolence  restricted  to  no  particular 
denomination,  or  even  character ;  though  it  had  not  the 
same  operation  to\\ard  all.     Like  the  charity  of  Jesus 
Christ,  it  was  cordial  complacency  in  them,  who  obeyed 
the  truth.     But  toward  the  erroneous  and  irreligious,  it 
^\•as  mingled  disapprobation,  compassion,  and  good  u  ill ; 
disapprobation  of  their  errors  and  sins,  compassion  for 
their  miseries,  and  good  will  to  their  souls.     His  charity 


20  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

as  well,  as  his  judgment,  led  him  to  mourn  the  relaxed 
opinions  of  religion,  which  prevail  at  this  day.  Inspired 
with  the  spirit  of  other  times,  when  the  glory  of  New 
England  piety  shone  forth,  he  greatly  lamented  its  de- 
cline. In  his  view,  modern  liberality  stripped  the  gospel 
of  all  its  glory.  Socinianism  he  pronounced  a  cold,  life- 
less system,  the  name  without  the  essence  of  Christianity, 
He  considered  it  as  taking  away  the  life  and  soul  of  re- 
ligion, and  as  very  near  the  confines  of  infidelity.  In 
the  spread  ofthis  and  other  forms  of  antichristian  theolo- 
gy, he  clearly  saw  the  decay  of  vital  piety,  the  peril  of 
immortal  souls,  and  the  desolation  of  Zion. 

In  June,  A.  D.  1792,  the  corporation  and  overseers 
of  Harvard  University,  harmoniously  invited  him  to  the 
office  of  Professor  of  Divinity.  His  learning  and  piety, 
his  religious  sentiments,  and  his  aptness  to  teach,  accord-- 
ed  with  the  design  and  statutes  of  those  who  founded  the 
Professorship,  and  justified  his  appointment  to  the  im- 
portant office.*  He  considered  his  relation  to  his  peo- 
ple so  intimate  and  sacred,  that  he  did  not  determine 
upon  a  separation  without  long  and  serious  reflection, 
and  such  advice  as  deserved  his  confidence.  The  ques- 
tion was  submitted  to  a  very  respectable  ecclesiastical 
council,  who  unanimously  voted,  that  duty  and  the 
p-eneral  interest  of  religion  required  his  removal.  On 
the  26th  of  December,  A.  D.  1792,  he  was  inaugurated, 
as  Hollis  Professor  of  Divinity  in  Harvard  University. 

In  order  to  give  a  proper  idea  of  his  usefulness,  it  is 
necessary  to  observe,  that,  when  he  was  introduced  into 
the  Professor's  chair,  the  religious  state  of  the  Universi- 
ty was  very  alarming.     For  some  time  the  students  had 

*  Among  those,  who  were  active  in  introdacing-  him  into  the  Professor's 
chair,  were  several  who  were  his  cotemporaries  at  the  University,  and  had 
known  him  from  his  childhood.  Of  this  numl>er  "  was  that  excellent  man, 
the  late  Lieutenant  Governor  Phillips,  than  whom  no  one  took  a  more 
earnest  part  in  placing  him  in  that  station." 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN,  21 

received  no  regular  instruction  in  divinity.     Books,  con- 
taining the  poison  of  deism,  were  eageily  read,  and  the 
minds  of  many  corrupted.     Immorality  and  disorder, 
in  various  shapes,  had  become  prevalent,  and  mocked 
the  power  of  persuasion  and  the  arm  of  authority.    Such 
was  the  state  of  things,  when  Professor  Tappan  entered 
on  the  duties  of  his  office.     The  great  object  of  his  public 
and  private  lectures  was,  to  defend  the  principles  of  natur- 
al and  revealed  religion,  and  to  lead  the  students  to  tht 
knowledge  of  their  Maker  and  Redeemer.     His  whole 
official  conduct  was  calculated  to  conciliate  affection,  to 
excite  serious  regard  to  divine  truth,  and  to  impress  the 
importance  of  religious  duty.      Not  expecting  youth  to 
overlook  their  pleasure  in  their  love  of  improvement,  he 
aimed,  in  his  public  lectures,  to  unite  entertainment  with 
information.     He  happily  combined  brevity  with  fulness, 
and  animation  with  exactness.      He  was  didactic,   yet 
persuasive  ;  profound,  and  yet  pathetic.     It  was  impos- 
sible for  young  men  of  liberal  minds  to  hear  his  public 
lectures,  with  the  well  adapted  and  fervent  prayers  which 
introduced  and  closed  them,  without  a  conviction,  that 
religious  truth  could  be  vindicated  by  argument,  and 
that  Christian  goocbiess  ennobled  the  soul,  and  yielded 
the  best  enjoyments.      So  singular  was  the  assemblage 
of  excellent  qualities  in  his  public  performances  at  the 
University,  that  the  nicest  criticism  could  complain  of  no 
inelegance  in  the  style,  and  the  most  metaphysical,  of  no 
unfairness  in  argument ;    while  the  v^armest  piety   was 
raised  to  a  higher  and  purer  flame.     It  must  not  be  omit- 
ted, that  his  evangelical  sentiments  and  puritan  morals 
were  greatly  conducive  to  his  usefulness,  as  a  professor. 
In  consequence  of  his  influence,   infidelity  among  the 
students  was  gradually  confounded,  profanity  and  irreli- 
gion  M  ere  awed  and  restrained,  and  the  science  of  God  was 


22  MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN. 

Studied  with  more  seriousness  and  delight ;  and  it  soon 
jbecame  customary  in  all  public  performances,  to  speak 
of  Christianity  in  terms  of  respect  and  veneration.  The 
religious  public  manifested  a  gi-owint^- attachment  to  the 
University,  and  cherished  a  pleasing  hope,  that  the  youth, 
educated  there,  would  not  only  be  instructed  in  human 
science,  but  guarded  against  infidelity,  and  initiated  into 
the  true  principles  of  the  oracles  of  God. 

During  his  professorship,  he  was  frequently  invited  to 
preach  in  the  neighbouring  societies,  and  sometimes  in 
distant  places.  His  preaching  was  remarkably  accept- 
able. There  was  not  v/anting  in  his  performances  some- 
thing to  command  the  respect  of  the  ^\'icked,  to  please  the 
taste  of  the  polished,  and  refresh  the  souls  of  the  saints. 
He  willingly  laboiu-ed  in  the  ministry  even  above  his 
strength,  gladly  embracing  every  opportunity  to  preach 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  and  to  spread  tlie 
savour  of  pure  religion.  "He  was  indeed  a  burning  and 
shining  light." 

But  that  shining  light  was  suddenly  extinguished. 
When  his  amiable  character  had  become  generally 
known  ;  when  his  prospect  of  usefulness  \\  as  growing 
brighter  ;  when  the  sphere  of  his  activity  was  extending, 
and  the  energies  of  his  mind  were  most  constantly  ex- 
erted, his  prospect  was  overspread,  and  his  useful  life 
closed.  When  ministers  are  best  qualified  to  do  good 
in  the  world,  then  are  they  often  most  ripe  for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  To  replenish  the  celestial  mansions, 
the  excellent  of  the  earth  are  taken  away. 

Let  tlie  reader,  for  a  moment,  turn  aside,  and  behold 
that  scene,  Avhere  the  good  man's  character  is  tried. 
Though  Dr.  Tappan's  sickness  was  short,  it  was  long 
enough  to  display  his  piet\%  and  to  glorify  the  Saviour  in 
whom  he  bciiuA'cd.      The  notice  of  his  approaching 


MEMOIRS  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  23 

dissolution,  though  very  sudden,  did  not  discompose 
him.*  With  many  expressions  of  humihty  and  self 
abasement,  he  declared  his  hope  in  the  infinite  mercy  of 
God  through  the  atonement  of  Christ.  In  redeeming 
grace  he  found  rest  to  his  soul.  After  such  solemn  and 
prayerful  examination  of  himself,  as  bccometh  a  man 
hastening  to  the  bar  of  eternal  justice,  he  found  reason  to 
hope,  that  he  was  the  subject  of  saving  religion,  and 
finally  had  strong  consolation. 

Only  one  or  two  particulars  of  his  dying  exercises  will 
be  mentioned.  When  his  wife  expressed  some  of  the 
tender  feelings,  which  were  excited  by  the  thought  of 
parting  with  him,  he  said ;  ^^  If  God  is  glorified^  I  am 
made  forccer.  Can't  you  lay  hold  of  that  ?  Can't  you 
lay  hold  of  that?"  To  his  sons,  then  undergraduates, 
he  expressed  his  paternal  concern  for  the  welfare  of  the 
University.  On  being  told,  that  the  students  were  more 
attentive,  than  they  had  been  to  the  Bible,  he  replied ; 
JVcll^  the  Bible  ever  has  been,  and  ever  ivill  be  the  best 
guide  for  young  men.  He  died  Aug.  27,  A.  D.  1803, 
aged  51. 

Doctor  Tappan's  death  was  no  common  calamity. 
To  the  surviving  partner  and  children,  and  other  near 
connexions,  the  affliction  was  indescribable.  Youthful 
genius  and  virtue  mourned  the  decease  of  a  friend  and 
patron.  The  church  and  nation  lost  one,  who  had 
sought  and  prayed  for  their  welfare.  The  University 
felt,  that  one  of  her  pillars  was  fallen.  Religion  herself 
wept  over  the  tomb  of  Tappan,  who  had  pleaded  her 
cause,  lived  for  her  honour,  and  rejoiced  in  the  hope  of 
her  approaching  triumph. 

*  Many  interesting'  particulars  reppccting'  the  character  and  death  of 
lir.  T.  will  be  found  in  the  funeral  sermon,  wliich  follows. 


Tfie  foUcruDmg  is  a  complete  List  of  the  Publications  of 
Dr.  Tappan. 

1,  2.  Two  Discourses  delivered  on  the  Sabbath  after  his  Ordi- 
nation at  Newbury, 

3.  A  Sermon  on  the  Character  of  Amaziah.  1782. 

4.  A  Fast  Sermon.     1783. 

5.  A  Thanksgiving  Discourse,  on  the  Peace.   1783. 

6.  A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  the  Rev-  Moses  Parsons.    DeCc 

14,  1783. 

7.  Two  friendly  Letters  to  Philalethes.   1785. 

8.  A  Sermon  at   the  Ordination  of  Rev.  Timothy  Dickinson^ 
Feb.  18,  1789. 

9.  Address  to  the  StudentsofAndover  Academy,  July  18,  1791. 

10.  Election  Sermon,  May  30,  1792. 

11.  A  Sermon  before  an  Association  at  Portsmouth.     1792. 

12.  A  Farevvel  Sermon  at  Newbury.     1793. 

13.  A  Fast   Sermon  delivered  at  Cambridge   and  Charlestown, 

April  11,  1793. 

14.  A  Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  John  T.  Kirklandi 

Feb.  5,    1794. 

15.  A  Sermon  on  eight  persons  drowned  at  Newbury,  July  24> 

1794. 

16.  A  Discourse  to  the  Class,  which  was  graduated  in  1794. 

17.  A  Discourse  to  the  Class,  which  entered  in  1794. 

18.  An  Address  to  Andover  Students,  July,  1794. 

19.  A  Thanksgiving  Sermon  at  Charlestown,  Feb.  19,  1795. 

20.  A  Discourse  on  the  Death  of  John  Russell,  student,    Nov. 

17,  1795. 

21.  A  Discourse  to  the  Class,   which  entered  in  1796. 

22.  A  Sermon  before  the  Convention  of  Ministers,  June  1,  1797. 

23.  A  Fast  Sermon  at  Boston  and  Charlestown,  April  5,  1798. 
24,25.  Two  Sermons  at  Plymouth,  after  the  Ordination  of  the 

Rev.  James  Kendall,  Jan.  5,  1800. 

26.  A  Discourse  on  the  Death  of  Gen.  Washington,  Feb.  21, 1800. 

27.  A   Sermon   at  the   Ordination  of    the  Rev.  Nathaniel  H. 

Fletcher,    1800. 

28.  A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  Lieut.  Gov.  Phillips.    1802. 

29.  A   Sermon   at  the  Installation  of  Rev.   Hezekiah  Packard, 

Sept.    1802. 

30.  A  Discourse  on  the  Death  of  Enos  Hitchcock,   D.  D.  Provi- 

dence,  1803. 
51,  A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  Mrs.  Mary  Dana,  April,  1803. 

32.  Lectures  on  Jewish  Antiquities.    1807. 

33.  Sermons  on  Important  Subjects. 


A 

DISCOURSE, 

delivered  at  cambridge, 

August  29,  1803, 

AT    THE    FUNERAL 

OF    THE 

REV.  DAVID  TAP  PAN,  D.D, 

UOLLIS     PROFESSOR     OF     DIVINITY     IN     THE     UNIVERSITV     Ot 
CAMBRIDGE, 

WHO  DIED  ON  THE  27\h  OF  AUGUST,  ^t.  LI. 


BY  ABIEL  HOLMES,  A.  M. 

PASTOR     OF      THB     FIRST     CHURCH     IK     CAMBRIDCE. 


A   DISCOURSE, 

DELIVERED    AT    THE 

FUNERAL    OF    DR.    TAPPAN. 


Acts  xi.  24.     He  was  a  good  man. 

HE  solemn  stilness  and  melancholy  aspect  of 
this  assembly,  silently,  but  expressively,  apply  this 
character  to  the  man,  whose  obsequies  we  are 
called  to  celebrate.  Ye  fix  your  eyes  on  these 
relics,  and  your  first  thought  is,  He  was  a  good  man. 
A  sentiment  so  spontaneous  and  so  universal,  as  this, 
carries  vdth  it  one  of  the  strongest  evidences  of  its 
justness  and  truth.  With  this  witness  inyoursehesy 
therefore,  ye  are  already  prepared  to  attend  to  the  de- 
lineation of  the  character,  and  happiness,  of  a  good 
man,  with  special  reference  to  the  person,  whose  death 
we  lament,  and  to  the  occasion,  which  hath  convened 
us  in  this  temple. 

The  person,  to  whom  this  character  was  applied  in. 
the  passage  now  recited,  was  Barnabas-  His  very 
name  denotes  the  benignity  and  sweetness  of  his  tem- 
per ;  for  it  was  given  him  by  his  fellow  apostles,  as 
expressive  of  his  character.  He  was  originally  a  Le- 
vite,  of  the  Island  of  Cyprus ;  but  had  now  become  a 
sincere  and  zealous  convert  to  Cliiistianity.  With  the 
change  of  his  religion,  the  apostles  changed  his  name 
loses,  by  surnaming  him  Barnabas^  which  signifies, 
The  son  of  consolation.  At  the  very  first  time  of  his  in- 
troduction to  our  notice  by  the  sacred  historian,  he  ap- 


4>  DISCOURSE  AT   THE 

pears  in  the  generous  act  of  selling  his  estate,  to  annex 
it  to  the  fund,  which  the  apostles  were  now  raising  for 
the  regular  and  stated  relief  of  poor  Christians.  We 
find  him  next  engaged  in  the  benevolent  office  of  in- 
troducing Paul  to  the  disciples  at  Jerusalem.  When 
this  Christian  convert,  soon  after  his  conversion,  at- 
tempted to  associate  with  the  disciples,  "  they  were 
all  afraid  of  him,  and  believed  not  that  he  was  a  disci- 
ple. But  Barnabas,"  with  that  benevolence  and 
kindness,  for  which  he  seems  always  to  have  been  dis- 
tinguished, "  took  him,  and  brought  him  to  the  apos- 
tles, and  declared  to  them  how  he  had  seen  the  Lord 
in  the  way,  and  that  he  had  spoken  to  him,  and  how 
he  had  preached  boldly  at  Damascus  in  the  name  of 
Jesus."  The  extent  of  the  benefit  often  rendered  to 
an  incCvidual,  and  through  him  to  the  world,  by  one 
such  seasonable  act  of  kindness,  performed  by  a  good 
man,  is  incalculable. 

In  the  next  instance,  Barnabas  is  presented  to  our 
view  in  the  high  character  of  an  ambassador  of  Christ, 
employed  on  a  very  difficult,  but  most  important 
mission.  In  Antioch,  the  capital  of  Syria,  which  for 
majmitude,  situation,  and  other  advantages,  was  the 
third  city  in  the  Roman  empire,*  there  had  recently 
been  numerous  conversions  to  the  faith  of  Christ.  The 
converts,  made  in  this  city,  were  the  first  fruits  of 
the  devout  Gentiles  out  of  Palestine,  Of  these  con- 
verts there  was  formed  a  large  Christian  church, 
\\  hich  was  considered  as  the  parent  of  the  Gentile 
churches.  In  addition  to  these  facts,  chiefly  collect- 
ed from  the  sacred  history,  a  credible  historianf  in- 

•  See  Benson's  History  of  the  first  planting-  of  the  Christian  Rdijj- 
ion,  I.  246. 

I  Josephus. 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  ;j 

forms  us,  that  there  was  a  Jewish  university  in  tlie  city 
of  Antioch.  What  a  combination  of  gi*eat  and  good 
quahties  ought  that  Christian  minister  to  possess,  who 
should  be  set  for  the  defence  of  the  gospel,  in  such  u 
city  !  No  sooner  did  the  church  at  Jerusalem  receive 
intelligence  of  the  success  of  the  gospel  in  this  Syri- 
an capital,  than  it  sent  forth  Barnabas,  as  the  person 
best  qualified  to  confirm  the  young  converts  in  the 
faith  ;  and  by  his  able  ministrations,  by  his  concilia- 
ting  manners,  and  by  his  excellent  spirit,  to  silence 
their  adversaiies.  The  event  fully  justified  their 
choice-  When  Barnabas  came  to  Antioch,  and  be- 
held the  grace  of  God,  manifested  to  the  Christians  in 
that  city,  he  was  glad,  and  exhorted  them  all,  that 
ivith  purpose  of  heart  they  would  clea'ue  to  the  Lord. 
The  exhortation,  from  his  mouth,  was  peculiarly 
graceful  and  energetic  ;  for  he  was  a  good  man,  and 
full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  of  faith  ;  a?id  much  people 
was  added  to  the  Lord. 

In  this  amiable  and  excellent  apostle,  we  discern 
some  of  the  prominent  traits  of  a  good  man.  But 
this  character  requires  a  more  particulai*  delineation. 
A  good  man  must  not,  for  a  moment,  be  imagined  a 
phrase,  to  denote  a  perfect  character.  In  an  absolute 
sense  there  is  but  one  good  Being,  that  is  God.  There 
is  not  a  just  man  upon  earth,  who  doth  good,  and  sin- 
neth  not.  Imperfection  belongs  to  all  creatures,  es- 
pecially to  the  apostate  sinners  of  the  human  race. 

When  therefore  any  one  of  the  sons  of  men  is  calL 
ed  a  good  man,  nothing  more  can  be  justly  intended 
by  the  expression,  than  that  he  is  prevalently,  and 
habitually,  a  man  of  virtue  and  piety. 

A  good  man  has  radically  a  holy  temper.  By  the 
apostasy,  the  image  of  God  in  the  human  soul  has 


S  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

become  polluted  and  defaced.     The  restoration  of 
this  image  to  its  original  purity  and  glory  is  the  gi^and 
design  of  tliat  redemption,   which  is  revealed  and 
proclaimed  in  the  gospel.     The  very  name  of  the 
Son  of  God  was  intended  to  express  this  design. 
Thou  shah  call  his  name  Jesus  ;  for  he  shall  sa'oe  his 
people  from  their  sins.     This  design  the  apostles  of 
Christ,  in  conformity  to  the  spirit  of  their  Master's 
counsel  and  example,  kept  religiously  in  view.     The 
doctrine  of  Paul  was  the  doctrine  of  all  the  apostles  : 
Our  Saijioiir  Jesus  Christ  ga^e  himself  for  us,  that  he 
might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity ,  and  purify  unto  him- 
self  a  pjecidiar  people,  zealous  of  good  works.     The  ac* 
tual  influence  of  the  gospel,  accompanied  by  the  Ho- 
ly Spirit,  corresponds  with  the  primary  design  of  re- 
demption.    It  recovers  sinners,  of  the  most  vile  and 
profligate  character,   to  a  holy  temper.      Such  were 
some  of  you :  but  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified^ 
hut  ye  are  justified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
by  the  Spirit  of  our  God.     The  tendencies  of  the  re- 
newed soul  are  turned  from  sin  to  holiness.     The 
aft'ections  of  every  good  man  are  supremely  fixed  on 
God,  the  holy  and  perfect  Being,  the  source  and  the 
centre  of  all  happiness.     Wliatever  therefoi^e  is  dis- 
pleasing to  God,   is  displeasing  to  him.      He  hates 
vain  thoughts ;    but  cherishes  such  as  are  innocent, 
and  especially  such  as  are  of  a  virtuous  and  lioly  ten- 
dency.    He  abhors  even  himself  so  far  as  he  discov- 
ers himself  to  be  opposed  to  God  and  virtue,  and 
repents  as  in  dust  and  as/ies.     Conscious  of  deep  de- 
pravity,   and   of   daily   transgression,    he   entertains 
abasing  sentiments  of  himself;    and,  while  he  takes 
the  lowest  place  at  the  footstool  of  God,  he  is  lium- 
ble  in  his  intercourse  with  man.     Instead  of  cher- 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAP? AN.  f 

ishing  a  persuasion,  whether  erroneous  or  just,  of 
his  own  superiority  to  other  men,  he  is  habitually  in- 
clined to  esteem  others  better  than  himself.  He  daily 
studies  to  regulate  his  appetites  and  passions  ;  and 
desires,  and  prays,  that  e'oery  thought  may  be  brought 
into  capthity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  Such  is  the 
habitual  temper  of  a  good  man.  A  holy  disposition 
is  radically  fixed  in  his  soul. 

A  good  man  lives  habitually  a  holy  life.  It  is  on- 
ly such  a  life,  that  can  render  it  suitable  to  apply  to 
any  one  this  elevated  name  and  character.  Latent 
goodness  there  may  be,  which  has  no  opportunity  to 
manifest '  itself  in  visible  acts.  Such  virtue,  wher- 
ever it  exists,  though  unseen  by  any  human  eye,  is 
seen,  and  will  be  finally  approved,  by  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth.  But  with  no  propriety  can  man  call  any 
one  good,  who  does  not,  in  his  life,  give  visible  proof 
of  his  integrity  and  piety.  By  their  fruits^  said  the 
Saviour,  ye  shall  know  them.  A  good  man  out  of  the 
good  treasure  of  the  heart  bringeth  forth  good  things* 

His  piety  toward  God  is  discovered,  by  a  reveren- 
tial respect  to  his  name,  to  his  character,  to  his 
word,  to  his  sabbaths,  to  his  ordinances  and  laws ; 
by  a  steady  and  devout  performance  of  the  duty  of 
prayer,  in  the  closet,  in  the  family,  and  in  the  asscm- 
bly  of  the  saints  ;  by  a  deep  concern  for  the  honour  of 
God,  and  for  the  interests  of  his  kingdom  ;  and  by 
a  zealous  and  active  endeavour  to  glorify  him  on  the 
earth. 

His  benevolence  toward  man  is  discovered,  by  an 
habitual  promptitude  to  rejoice  with  the  cheerful,  and 
to  mourn  with  the  sorrowful ;  by  a  readiness  to  for- 
give injuries,  and  to  recompense  good  for  evil ;  by  a 
uniform  aim  to  render  to  all  their  due,  and  to  owe  no 


«  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

man  any  thing,  but  love  ;  by  doing  good  to  all  meri^ 
as  he  has  opportunity  and  ability  ;  by  treating  the  ac- 
tions of  men  with  candour,  and  their  persons  with  re- 
spect ;  and  by  doing  what  in  him  lies  to  promote  the 
temporal  comfort,  and  the  eternal  happiness,  of  the 
great  family  of  mankind.  The  good  man  is  more 
than  strictly  righteous.  Rectitude,  in  its  common 
acceptation,  is  too  low  a  standard  for  his  virtue.  He 
provides  things  honest,'^  or  beautiful,  not  only  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord,  but  also  in  the  sight  of  all  men.  He  endea- 
vours, not  merely  to  maintain  such  a  course  of  con- 
duct, as  shall  be  free  from  just  cause  of  censure,  but 
such  a  course,  as  shall  merit  commendation.  Not 
satisfied  with  merely  giving  no  occasion  to  the  adver^ 
sary  to  speak  reproachfully,  he  is  desirous  by  ivell  do- 
ing to  put  to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men. 
Not  content  with  the  insignificant  virtue  of  doing  no 
dishonour  to  God  and  religion,  he  has  a  sacred  ambi- 
tion to  let  his  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they 
may  see  his  good  works,  and gUrify  his  Father  ivho  isf 
in  heaven. 

Deep  is  the  origin  of  his  moral  virtue,  and  propor- 
tionably  extensive  is  its  influence.  It  arises  not  from 
a  vague  perception  of  the  beauty  of  virtue ;  from  a 
sense  of  honour  ;  from  the  fear  of  shame  ;  from  the 
traditions  of  ancestors  ;  from  a  Christian  education  ; 
fi-om  the  hope  of  reward  ;  from  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment. It  springs  from  no  such  shallow  or  precari- 
ous sources.  It  takes  its  rise  from  that  vjell  of  ivater^ 
which  springs  up  into  e'oerlasti?ig  life.  Yonder  is  the 
fount,  fast  by  the  throne  of  God.  A  cordial  belief 
Ml  God  and  in  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  great 

•  x«X<«,  Rom.  xii.  17.  2  Cor.  viil.St. 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  .  9 

truths  revealed  in  the  divine  word,  is  the  source  of 
the  good  man's  virtue.  How  operative  then,  how 
incalculably  extensive,  must  be  its  influence  !  "A 
vital  faith  in  the  gospel,"  to  use  the  words  of  this 
good  man,  w/zo,  being  dead^  yet  speakethy  "  A  vital 
faith  in  the  gospel  is  a  leading  act  and  instrument  of 
moral  eoodness.  It  sets  before  us  the  most  correct 
and  sublime  standard  of  duty  ;  it  awakens  sincere  de- 
sires and  efforts  to  reach  it ;  while  it  gives  to  these  ef- 
forts encouragement  and  strength,  perseverance  and 
success.  By  bringing  pardon  to  the  penitent,  and 
grace  to  the  humble;  by  engaging  divine  power  to 
uphold,  and  eternal  life  to  reward  the  faithful  Chris- 
tian, it  inspires  him  with  invincible  courage  and  ac- 
tivity in  the  pursuit  of  perfection  and  glory.  His 
sincere  trust  in  and  loyalty  to  Christ  secure  a  virtu- 
ous improvement  of  all  his  talents,  a  diligent  fulfil- 
ment of  all  his  engagements,  whether  civil  or  relig- 
ious, and  a  steady  performance  of  the  various  duties, 
which  his  particulai'  calling  or  relations  impose." 
These  are  but  the  outlines  of  the  character  of  a  good 
man.  In  his  life  we  see  them  filled  up,  and  shining 
forth,  in  all  the  beauties  of  holiness. 

His  happiness  must  be  summarily  noticed.  It  is  a 
happiness,  that  partly  results  from  his  temper  and 
character  in  this  life ;  and  which  will  be  rendered 
complete  and  perfect  in  the  life  to  come.  A  good 
man,  saith  Solomon,  shall  be  satisfied  from  himself. 
No  man  has  such  resources  for  comfort,  and  for  ra- 
tional enjoyment,  as  the  man  of  religion.  Such  re- 
sources !  The  irreligious  man  has  none.  Having  no 
hope,  and  without  God  in  the  %vorld,  he  can  have  noth- 
ing, \A  hich  can  give  him  happiness  or  repose.     He  is 


10  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

like  the  troubled  sea,  %vhc?i  it  cannot  rest.  His  unhal- 
lowed pasyions,  and  upbraiding  conscience,  must  per- 
petually agitate  or  torment  him.  The  decree  of 
Heaven  too  hath  determined  this  a\\'ful  destiny.  There 
is  710  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the  ivickcd. 

But  the  good  man  has  perpetual  resources  of  com- 
fort and  happiness.  The  regulation  of  his  passions, 
and  appetites  is  propitious  to  his  tranquillity  and 
peace  ;  the  approbation  of  his  conscience  gives  him 
pleasure,  with  which  a  stranger  doth  not  intermeddle  ; 
the  hope  of  pardon  and  of  "  the  applauding  smile  of 
Heaven"  inspires  him  with  holy  and  ele\ated  de- 
light ;  and  the  prospect  of  the  perfection  of  his  spir- 
it and  of  the  completion  of  his  felicity,  in  the  para- 
dise of  God,  fills  him  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory. 

While  the  good  man  has  such  sources,  as  these, 
for  comfort  in  life ;  he  has  hope  in  death.  At  that 
solemn  and  eventful  period,  ^\'hen  the  world  re- 
cedes, and  its  faiiest  prospects  vanish  ;  he  is  able  to 
look  up,  and  to  Ift  up  his  head,  for  his  redcmptioti 
drawetJi.  nigh.  He  is  willing  that  his  earthly  house  of 
this  tabernacle  should  be  dissohed  ;  because  he  has  a 
building  of  God,  an  house  iwt  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  hea'oens.  Death,  in  his  ^'iew,  is  not  a  king  of 
terrors^  but  a  messenger  of  peace.  In  the  language 
of  sacred  triumph,  hft  exclaims  :  0  death,  where  is 
thy  stifig  ?  0  gravcy  where  is  thy  victory  ?  I  have 
fought  a  good  fight ;  I  haiyc  finisJied  my  course  ;  I  have 
kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a 
crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lords  the  righteous 
Judge,  shall gi'ue  me  at  that  day.  I  Iia've  a  desire  ta 
depart,  and  to  be  witli  Christ,  which  is  far  better. 
JIven  so,  come.  Lord  Jesus. 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  11 

These  are  but  the  harbingers  of  that  bliss,  v\hich 
is  reserved  for  the  good  man  in  heaven.  There  his 
fehcity  will  be  completed.  There  the  holy  tenden- 
cies of  his  soul  ^^dil  be  carried  into  full  effect.  When 
he  shall  mingle  with  the  sprits  o^  just  men  made  per- 
fect^ his  own  spirit  shall  attaiR  perfection  in  holiness. 
Casting  his  crown  before  the  throne,  he  sJiall  unite 
with  all  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  in  ascriptions  of 
praise  unto  him  who  loi)ed  them,  and  washed  theni 
fr&7n  their  s'ms  in  his  oivu  blood ;  and  shall  partake 
with  them  in  that  fulness  of  joy,  which  is  in  the 
presence  of  God,  and  in  those  pleasures ,  whic  h  are  ai 
his  right  hand foreiiermore. 

In  that  pienitiKle  of  joy,  in  those  everlasting  pleas- 
ures, the  spirit  of  our  deputed  friend  is,  we  trust, 
now  pailicipating ;  for  he  w-as  a  good  man. 

He  api^eared  radically  to  possess  a  holy  temper.  The 
habitual  tendencies  of  his  soul  seemed  to  be  towai'd  God 
and  religion.  He  always  discovered  a  quick  sensibility 
to  right  and  ^vrong,  to  holiness  and  sin.  Actions  in  any 
respect  praise^^orthy  gave  him  delight,  \vhich  he  was 
neither  desirous  nor  able  to  conceal.  Signal  acts  of 
beneficence,  or  of  piety,  awakened  in  his  bosom  strong 
emotions  of  pleasure,  and  received  his  ardent  commen- 
dation. The  vices  of  individuals,  especially  flagrant  and 
prevalent  sins,  excited  at  once  his  grief  and  abhorrence. 
It  was  very  apparent,  that  sin^  whether  committed  by  oth- 
ers or  by  himself,  ^\as  in  his  vie\v  exceeding  sinful. 
Hence  he  appears  to  have  been  excited  to  keep  his  own 
heart  with  all  diligence ;  to  stand  in  a-we,  and  sin  not.  He 
w^as  equally  prompt  and  skilful  to  avail  himself  of  every 
occurrence  fur  infusing  religious  instruction  into  the 
mind,  or  for  impressing  it  on  the  heart.  He  singularl}- 
exemplified  the  apostolical  precept :    Let  your  speech  h 


12  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

airway  imth  grace ^  seasoned  with  salt,  that  ye  may  hi(mf 
how  ye  ought  to  answer  eiiery  man.  He  seemed  to  haiae  no 
greater  joy^  than  to  see  men  walking  in  truth,  and  to  aid 
them  in  a  holy  course.  He  had  his  own  con'versation  i?t 
heaven,  and  was  studious  to  raise  that  of  others  to  the 
same  sacred  height.  If  then  the  treasure  determines 
where  the  heart  is  ;  if  the  fruit  designates  the  quaUty  of 
the  tree  ;  if  the  stream  demonstrates  the  nature  of  the 
fountain  ;  we  have  just  ground  to  conclude,  that  he  had 
a  holy  temper ;  that  a  sanctified  heart  was  the  ^ital  prin- 
ciple of  his  religion  ;  that  he  M^as  born,  not  of  blood,  nor 
cf  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  ivill  of  man,  but  of  God, 

This  conclusion  is  justified  by  the  holiness  of  his  life; 
III  the  performance  of  the  duties  of  piety  he  was  uni- 
formly exemplary.  As  his  heart  was  engaged,  so  liis 
life  was  occupied,  about  his  Fathers  business.  The 
honour  of  God  and  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  Christian  cause,  were  objects  dear  to 
his  soul ;  and  to  the  promotion  of  them  he  was  zealous- 
ly devoted. 

In  the  performance  of  moral  and  relative  duties,  he 
was  upright  and  faithful.  His  benevolence  to  mankind 
w^as  habitually  shown,  by  his  tender  sympathy  in  their 
distresses  ;  by  his  readiness  to  relieve  their  temporal  or 
spiritual  wants ;  by  his  generous  hospitality ;  and  espe- 
cially by  his  unabating  desire  and  aim  to  bring  all  men, 
who  were  within  the  reach  of  his  influence,  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth,  that  tlicy  might  be  saved.  His  re- 
ligion, derived  from  the  fountain  of  purity,  wvls  pure  and 
vndefiled  in  its  nature,  extensive  and  sublime  in  its  in- 
fiuence.  It  inspired  him  \\\\\\  a  philanthropy,  xvhich 
counterfeit  virtue  can  never  feign.  It  prompted  him,  to 
do  justly,  and  to  Icce  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  vjith  his 
God;  to  visit  the  fatlierlcss  and  widows,  in  their  afflic- 
tion ;  and  to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world. 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  13 

His  mental  powers,  and  his  literary  attainments,  ac. 
companied  and  sanctified  by  such  eminent  virtue  and 
piety,  signally  qualified  him  for  those  high  stations, 
which  were  assigned  to  him  by  the  great  Head  of  the 
church.  His  mind  was  distinguished  for  its  vigour  and 
activity.  It  was  much  employed  in  deep  contempla- 
tion ;  and  was  fertile  in  thoughts,  at  once  original  and 
entertaining,  solid  and  refined,  practical  and  useful. 
While  he  thought  for  himself,  he  was  respectfully  and 
delicately  attentive  to  tlie  sentiments  of  those,  with 
whom  he  conversed.  His  unaffected  modesty,  which 
never  forsook  him,  rendered  him  swift  to  hear,  sloiv  to 
speak. 

He  acquired  his  choicest  learning  in  the  school  of  that 
divine  Teacher,  who  was  meek  and  l&wly  in  heart. 
There  he  imbibed  the  spirit  of  his  Master.  To  thos6 
great  sentiments,  which  he  firmly  believed,  and  ably 
vindicated,  lie  never  authoritatively  demanded  the  assent 
of  others.  If  a  subject  were  of  small  importance, 
he  made  the  most  generous  allo^A^ance  for  that  -diversity 
of  opinion,  which,  among  imperfect  beings,  of  different 
dispositions,  education,  and  habits,  seems  inevitable. 
His  candour  was,  accordingly,  equal  to  his  humility. 
In  disputation  he  was  neither  virulent,  nor  captious. 
Disregarding  what  affected  not  the  merits  of  the  ques- 
tion, he  fastened  his  attention  on  those  great  points,  by 
which  the  question  must  plainly  be  decided.  Here  he 
displa}'ed  ingenuity  of  address,  manliness  of  thought, 
and  cogency  of  argument.  Open  and  generous,  he  ap- 
peared honestly  to  contend,  not  for  victory,  but  for 
truth. 

With  such  an  understanding  and  heart,  united  to  the 
propitious  opportunities  and  means  of  improvement, 
which  he  enjoyed  at  tlie  university  while  a  student,  and 


14  DISCOURSE  AT  TH£ 

in  his  subsequent  intercourse  \vith '  literary  men,  he 
made  high  attainments  in  useful  knowledge,  especially 
in  theology.  To  this  sacred  science  his  own  pious 
dispositions,  in  connection  with  the  profession  to  wliich 
he  early  devoted  himself,  naturally  pointed  his  primary 
attention,  and  assiduous  study. 

After  having  served  God  in  the  gospel  of  Im  Son  with 
all  good  fidelity  eighteen  years,  among  a  people,  who 
were  affectionately  attached  to  his  person,  and  fond- 
ly delighted,  as  well  as  instructively  edified,  by  his  min- 
istry ;  he  was  called  forth  to  a  higher  and  more  exten- 
sive sphere  of  action.  The  rare  assemblage  of  virtues 
and  talents,  which  he  possessed,  and  the  celebrity  of 
character,  as  a  theologian,  which  he  had  now  acquired, 
attracted  the  attention  of  HarA  ard  Uni-\  ersity  ;  and  by 
the  legislature  of  this  Seminary  he  A\as  chosen  its  Pro- 
fessor of  Divinity. 

More  than  ten  years,  he  statedly  performed  the  ardu- 
ous duties  of  this  very  important  office.  With  what 
ability  and  fidelity  he  discharged  them,  it  were  difficult 
for  me  to  recite,  and  superfluous  for  you  to  hear.  My 
voice  can  add  nothing  to  his  eulogium.  His  praise  is 
in  all  the  churches.  Within  the  University  he  has  left 
a  memorial  of  his  ^vorth,  more  durable  and  more  hono- 
rary than  the  monumental  marble.  Let  it  simply  be 
remarked,  that  he  was  singularly  diligent  and  laborious 
in  the  composition  of  his  theological  Lectures ;  that 
these  Discourses  embraced  the  entii-e  bod}-  of  divinity  ; 
that  the  order  of  them  was  natural  and  lucid  ;  that  the 
manner  of  their  composure  was  a  happy  union  of  the  ar- 
gumentative and  persuasive  ;  that,  together  \a  ith  con- 
vincing demonstrations  of  truth,  they  contained  judicious 
refutiitions  of  error  ;  that  both  their  matter  and  form 
were  discreetly  adapted  to  the  youthful  and  inquisitive 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  15 

auditory,  to  w  hich  they  were  addressed  ;  that  they  were 
pronounced  with  a  seriousness  and  energy,  which  evin- 
ced the  sincerity  of  the  speaker ;  and  that  they  were 
admirably  calculated  to  form  enlightened  divines,  and 
practical  Christians. 

As  a  preacher,  his  talents  and  character  are  too  well 
known,  to  require  elucidation.  I  cannot  forbear  how- 
ever from  remarking,  that  his  discourses  in  the  pulpit 
were  uniformly  such,  as  became  a  Christian  minister. 
They  were  evangelical  discourses^  not  moral  essays. 
The  great  truths,  which  they  contained,  w^ere  derived, 
not  from  the  philosophy  of  Plato,  of  Epictetus,  or  of  Sen- 
eca, nor  from  the  boasted  oracle  of  human  reason  ;  but 
from  the  deep  fountains  of  that  grace  and  truths  which 
came  by  Jesus  C/irist.  He  taught  the  depravation  of 
the  heart ;  the  necessity  of  its  renovation  by  the  Spirit 
of  God  ;  together  with  the  utility  and  importance  of  the 
instituted  means  of  religion.  He  greatly  insisted  on 
the  divine  character  and  mission,  on  the  death  and  me- 
diation, on  the  atonement  and  intercession,  of  Jesus 
Christ  the  Saviour.  He  often  inculcated  the  duties  of 
faith  in  Christ,  repentance  for  sin,  and  a  holy  life,  as  es- 
sential to  salvation.  While  he  addressed  relia:ious 
truth  to  the  understanding,  he  closely  applied  it  to  the 
conscience.  The  disguises  of  the  heart  he  skilfully  de- 
tected -y  its  latent  foldings  he  admirably  penetrated.  He 
reduced  the  sinner  to  such  dilemmas  ;  he  so  glaringly 
exposed  the  treachery  of  the  false  professor  of  religion, 
and  the  inconstancy  of  the  true  believer ;  that  it  wa^  diffi- 
cult for  either  to  suppress  the  consciousness  of  guilt,  and 
the  confusion  of  shame.  On  retiring  from  this  temple, 
after  attending  his  ministrations,  the  address  of  Louis 
XIV.  to  the  eloquent  bishop  of  Clermont,  after  hearing 
him  preach  at  Versailles,  has  often  occurred  to  me  : 
*'  Father,  I  have  heard  many  great  orators  in  this. chap- 


IS  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

el ;  I  have  been  highly  pleased  with  them ;  but  for  you, 
whenever  I  hear  you,  I  go  away  displeased  with  myself; 
for  I  see  more  of  my  own  character." 

While  he  thus  alarmed  conscious  guilt,  and  con- 
founded hypocrisy  and  impiety ;  he  with  wonderful 
facility  encouraged  the  sincere,  though  feeble,  tenden- 
cies to  virtue,  and  poured  the  balm  of  comfort  into  the 
contrite  heart.  In  conformity  to  the  example  of  his 
great  Master,  a  bruised  reed  did  he  not  break  ;  and  the 
smoaking  flax  did  he  not  quench.  He  took  peculiar  de- 
light in  preaching  good  tidings  to  the  meek ;  in  binding 
vp  the  broken  hearted ;  in  prochiiming  liberty  to  the  cap- 
troes^  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  ivho  are 
bound.     He  was  a  Barnabas,  a  son  of  consolation. 

While  his  public  ministrations  were  uniformly  inter- 
esting and  impressive  ;  his  devotional  exercises  and 
discourses,  on  special  occasions,  were  truly  admirable. 
He  intuitively  discerned,  and  promptly  seized,  w'hat 
W'ould  create  in  his  auditory  the  deepest  interest,  and 
give  to  his  discourse  the  liveliest  impression  ;  and  em- 
ployed the  imagination  and  the  senses,  as  handmaids  to 
devotion  and  virtue.  The  weight  and  importance  of 
his  doctrines  ;  the  fertility  and  justness  of  his  thoughts  ; 
the  pertinency  and  beauty  of  his  metaphors  ;  the  vig- 
our and  elegance  of  his  style  ;  the  simplicity  and  pa- 
thos of  his  elocution  ;  commanded  the  profound  atten- 
tion of  his  auditors.  But  he  possessed  one  advantage, 
incomparably  superior  to  all  these  combined  excellen- 
cies, an  advantage,  \\  hich  rendered  his  discourses  irre- 
sistibly  commanding  and  persuasive  ;  He  was  a  good 
man. 

With  such  rare  qualifications  for  the  ministry,  and 
w4th  a  heart  filled  with  philanthropy,  and  animated  with 
zeal  to  do  good,  it  was  natural  for  ministers,  and  for 
churches,  in  their  afflictions  or  exigencies,  to  solicit  his 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN,  17 

solace  and  his  aid.  Such  sohcitations  he  knew  not 
how  to  resist.  To  his  povoer  fl  bear  record)^  yea,  and 
beyond  his  power,  he  luas  willing  cf  himself.  Alas  !  To 
this  benevolent  and  pious  charity  he  made  the 
costly  oblation  of  his  last  service.  It  was  in  the  church 
at  Brattle -Street*  that  he  performed  his  last  labour  of 
love.  Previously  debilitated,  he  was  inadequate  to  the 
public  services  of  religion  in  that  large  edifice,  and  in  a 
great  assembly.  The  administration  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per increased  the  labours  of  that  solemn  day.  From 
the  sanctuary  of  God  he  repaired  to  his  own  home  ;  re- 
tired to  his  chamber  ;  sickened,  and  expired. 

During  his  illness,  he  bore  plenary  testimony  to  those 
great  truths  of  religion,  which  had  been  the  chosen  sub- 
jects of  his  ministry,  and  the  sacred  rule  of  his  life.  In 
an  early  stage  of  his  sickness,  his  "  hope,"  to  use  his 
own  language,  "  was  intermingled  with  overwhelming 
confusion,  sorrow  and  shame."  In  its  later  stages, 
his  disease  was  less  spasmodic  than  it  had  previously 
been,  and  his  mind  was  more  tranquil.  Among  other 
interesting  observations,  he  said;  "The  doctrines  of 
grace,  which  contemplate  men  as  sinners,  and  as  re- 
quiring an  infinite  atonement,  are  the  doctrines,  which 
I  must  live  and  die  by."  On  the  morning  of  the  day 
previous  to  his  death,  he  had  intimation  of  his  danger. f 

*  In  Boston,  vacant  by  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thacher. 

f  He  asked  me,  Whether  I  was  able  to  collect  any  thing  special  from  the 
physicians  concerning'  his  case.  I  told  him,  that  I  had  not  seen  his  physi- 
cians that  morning  ;  but  gave  him  my  own  opinion  of  his  danger,  and  ad- 
vised him,  if  there  v/ere  any  thing  on  his  mind,  relating  to  his  temporal  or 
spiritual  concerns,  that  he  wished  to  disclose,  to  disclose  it.  He  thanked 
me  for  the  suggestion,  and  said,  he  would  avail  himself  of  it.  He  accord- 
ingly, during  the  day,  addressed  religious  adWce  to  his  children,  and  took 
leave  of  his  family. — His  relapse  from  »  hopeful  progress  toward  recovery 


18  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

Having,  in  u  conversation  that  ensued,  expressed  his 
Chiistian  hope  j  he  was  asked,  Whether  he  did  not 
build  that  hope  on  the  cor Jier stone  laid  in  Sion,  elect  and 
prccit.us,  "  If  I  do  not  trust  there,"  he:  rephcd,  *'  I 
know  not  in  what  I  do  trust.  I  ha\e  nothing  else  to 
trust  in.  Lord!  to  ivhom  shall  I  go  ?  Thou  ha^  the 
ivords  of  eternal  life.''''  He  was  able  to  speak  but  lit- 
tle, during  the  day.  After  a  pra}cr  with  him  in  the 
e\eiiing,  he  ^\as  more  collected,  and  more  capable  of 
conversing,  than  he  had  been  since  the  morning. 

In  this  conversation  (alas,  the  last !)  he  said  ;  "  I  be- 
lieve the  necessity  of  a  conformity  of  heart  to  the  truths 
of  the  gospel."  On  being  asked  concerning  his  hope, 
he  replied,  "  My  hope  is,  that  I  possess  the  Christian 
temper;"  then  pausing  a  httle,  he  added,  "All  my 
hopes  are  founded  on  the  infinite  mercy  of  God,  and  the 
perfect  character  and  atonement  of  Christ."  The  next 
morning,  he  kne\v  not  his  earthly  friends  ;  but  he  seem- 
ed still  to  know  in  ivhom  he  believed.  At  the  close  of 
prayer  by  his  bedside,  his  eyes  were  steadfastly  direct- 
ed towai'd  heaven ;  his  lips  gently  moved — in  that  act 
his  immortal  spirit  departed. 

Shall  they,  who  arc  wise,  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the 

firmament ;  aJid  they,  %vho  turn  many  to  righteous?iess,  as 

the  stars Juret^er  a?ul  ever  ?  Such,  we  believe,  \\'\\\  be 

his  everlasting  splendour.     Does  ojie  star  differ  from 

another  star  in  glory  ?  Of  the  first  magnitude,  and  of  the 

wns  surprising  to  others  ;  and  tlie  intimation  of  liIs  danger  was  apparently 
untxpccted  to  himself.  Tlie  marmer,  in  which  he  received  it,  furnishes 
occasion  I'or  stricture  on  that  I'alse  tenderness,  whicli  conceals  from  the 
sick  their  dant^-er,  and  iroin  the  dying  the  approach  of  death.  If  the  sick 
person  be  prepared  for  death,  he  may,  by  being  seasonably  apprized  of  his 
danger,  have  opportunity  to  impart  useful  counsels,  and  to  show  "  in  what 
peace  a  Christian  can  die."  If  he  be  unprepared,  how  spurious  is  that 
friendship,  which  steals  away  the  remnant  of  his  time,  by  deceptive  artifi- 
ces, until  there  is  noplace  of  repentance,  though  he  seek  it  carifull^'idth  tears  ! 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  19 

strongest  lustre,  we  are  persuaded,    will  be  diis  lumi- 
nar}-. 

To  us,  alas,  it  is  extinguished  !  What  a  gloom  does 
that  extinction  tlirow  over  a  bereaved  family,  oa  er  the 
university,  over  this  church  and  the  churches  in  general, 
and  over  our  commonwealth,  and  country  ! 

\Mth  the  afflicted  Widow  we  tenderly  sympathize  ; 
and  devoutly  commend  her  to  that  Being,  \\  iio  hath, 
with  condescension  as  consoling  as  it  is  wonderful,  styl- 
ed himself  a  Judge  of  t lie  widows  in  his  holy  habitation. 
The  bereaved  Children  \A'e  commend  to  Him,  in  whom 
the Jathcrkss  find  mercy  ;  to  Him,  who  hath  said,  /  will 
not  lea've you  orphans  ;^  I  will  come  unto  you.  Ye  have 
been  taught  by  the  counsel  and  example  of  a  pious 
husband  and  father,  how  to  suffer  affliction.  Remem- 
ber that  counsel ;  follow  that  example  ;  and  ye  will  find 
strong  consolation^  and  great  religious  improvement. 
For  the  aged  Mother,  honoured  and  blest  with  one  cf 
the  best  of  Sons,  but  surviving  to  witness  the  affecting 
scene  of  this  day,  we  implore  the  benediction  and 
solace  of  Almighty  God.  May  He  be  \\qy present  help  in 
trouble  ;  her  shield,  to  defend  her  ;  her  staft',  to  sustain 
her ;  and  her  exceeding  great  reward,  IVIay  the  surviv- 
ing brethren  and  sisters  receive  support  and  comfort 
from  on  high  ;  and  regard  the  heavenly  admonition,  em- 
phatically addressed  to  them  :  Be  ye  also  ready. 

To  the  University  we  present  our  respectful  and 
affectionate  condolence.  With  the  worthy  President, 
Professors,  and  Tutors,  we  sincerely  mourn,  in  the  loss 
of  their  highly  estimable  friend,  and  very  able  and  im- 
portant auxiliary.  May  the}-,  together  with  the  Hon- 
ourable and  Reverend  Members  of  the  College  Legisla.  # 

og^flfvifj.  John  siv.  IS. 


20  DISCOURSE  AT  THE 

ture,   religiously  observe  this  affecting  and  monitory 
event. 

With  the  Students  of  the  University  we  feel  a  sympa- 
thy, too  deep  for  utterance.  Ye  have  lost  a  friend  and 
a  father.  Your  spiritual  guide,  your  moral  and  relig- 
ious teacher  is  no  more.  His  public  and  private  in- 
structions ;  his  paternal  advices  and  admonitions ;  his 
benign  aspect ;  his  sensibility^  to  your  best  interests; 
his  condescending  and  benevolent  offices  ;  all  rush  into 
your  view,  and  overvi^heim  your  hearts.  Your  tears 
flow.  Ye  sorrow  most  of  all ^  that  ye  shall  see  his  face 
no  more.  But  let  me  not  swell  that  tide  of  grief,  already 
full.  Remember  hoiv  ye  have  recehed  and  heard^  and 
hold  fast ^  and  repent.  Let  the  instructions  and  counsels 
of  that  man  of  God,  at  whose  feet  ye  have  sitten  with 
delight,  be  indelibly  impressed  on  your  memories,  and 
perpetually  influential  on  your  lives.  If  ye  respected 
him,  if  ye  loved  him,  if  ye  applauded  him  >  while  living; 
if  ye  viould  honour  his  name  and  memory,  when  dead  ; 
be  what  he  taught  and  exhorted  you  to  be  ;  be  what  it 
was  his  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God^  that  ye  might 
be  ;  be  what  he  was.  He  was  a  good  man.  Be  ye  fol- 
lowers of  him  in  his  diligence  ;  in  his  activity  ;  in  his 
meekness ;  in  his  humility ;  in  his  candour  ;  in  his  be- 
nevolence ;  in  his  piety.  So  shall  ye  obtain  the  good 
man's  reward.  Ye  shall  be  blessings  and  ornaments  to 
society  :  ye  shall  secure  the  approbation  and  applause  of 
all  the  virtuous  and  tlic  good;  ye  shall  obtain  fa'uour  of 
the  Lord;  ye  shall  have  comfort  in  life,  hope  in  death, 
and  immortal  glory. 

The  people  of  my  Pastoral  Charge  will  deep]}-  bewail 
with  me  the  removal  of  a  good  citizen,  a  good  neighbour, 
a  good  m.an,  from  the  bosom  of  our  socici}'.  May  we, 
dearly  beloved,   be  unitedly  humbled  under  that  divine 


FUNERAL  OF  DR.  TAPPAN.  2l 

Stroke,  which  has  deprived  us  of  so  rich  and  invakiable 
a  blessing.  His  benevolent  offices  shall  not  be  forgot- 
ten. May  his  kind  and  faithful  ministrations  in  this  sa- 
cred desk  be  specially  remembered  to  our  everlasting 

benefit ! Our  sister  churches  in  the  capital,  and  in 

our  vicinity,  must  peculiarly  lament  the  death  of  the  good 
man,  from  whom  they  have  often  received  rich  instruc- 
tion and  seasonable  comfort.  The  church,  to  which  he 
formerly  ministered  in  holy  things,  will  affectionately 
remember  her  once  loved  pastor  ;  and  mingle  her  tears 
with  ours.  Nor  will  any  of  the  churches  of  New  Eng- 
land be  unmoved  at  the  loss  of  one  of  their  fairest  orna- 
ments and  firmest  pillars. 

The  Commonwealth  must  mourn  the  loss  of  this  good 
man,  who  honoured  her  magistrates,  vindicated  her 
interests,  and  supported  her  laws. 

My  fathers  and  brethren  in  the  Ministry  !  Too  sensi- 
bly and  tenderly  do  I  feel  my  own  loss,  to  remind  you 
of  yours.  Has  not  our  glory  departed  ?  Let  us  cherish 
a  sacred  ambition,  that  it  may  be  revived  in  us.  How 
can  it  otherwise  be  revived,  than  by  our  assuming,  and 
daily  observing,   that  divine  motto,  which  he  selected 

for  us  :     HOLINESS   TO   THE   LORD  !* 

What  a  deep  gloom  will  be  thrown  over  the  approach- 
ing Anniversary  If  How  quick  the  transition  from  these 
funeral  rites  to  the  effusions  of  genius  and  science  i 
from  the  darksome  tomb  to  the  literary  festival !  Let 
this  mixture  of  various  and  opposite  actions  and  events 
teach  us  impressi\'ely,  to  let  our  moderation  be  always 
known  ;  and  to  use,  as  not  abusing^  this  worlds  the  fash- 
ion  of  which  passeth  away.      In  the  midst  of  our  com- 

*  The  text  of  his  Sermon  before  the  Convention  of  Ministers,  A.D.  17^7. 
f  The  public  Commencement,  in  the  ensuing  week. 


22  FUNERAL   DISCOURSE. 

forts  and  pleasures  let  us  ever  remember,  that  z;z  the 
garden  there  is  a  scpnlc/ire. 

The  removal  of  this  good  man,  my  respected  audit- 
ors, points  us  to  yonder  world ;  and  admonishes  us  to 
be  ready  for  our  proper  home.  A  voice  seems  to  break 
from  his  lips,  for  the  last  time  :    Arise,  let  us   go 

HENCi;. 


SEEMONS 


BY 


DAVID  TAPPAN,  D.  D, 


^eri 


@)ermon  l 


On  Christian  Zeal. 

Revelation  iii.  19.     Be  zealous. 

HESE  words  are  part  of  our  Lord's  epistle  to 
the  church  of  Laodicea,  one  of  the  seven  churches  of 
Asia  Minor,  to  each  of  which  the  King  of  Zion  ad- 
dresses counsels  and  admonitions,  reproofs  or  praises, 
suited  to  its  peculiar  character  and  state.  The  letter 
before  us  begins  with  a  concise  description  of  the  moral 
state  of  this  church.  It  represents  her  as  neither  cold 
nor  hot,  but  as  lukewarm  or  indifferent  in  religion,  and 
expresses  the  divine  abhorrence  of  such  a  disposition. 
In  the  text  it  exhorts  her  to  be  zealous  in  religion,  in 
opposition  to  her  present  deadness  and  formality. 

As  this  Laodicean  indifference  in  religious  con- 
cerns marks  too  many  nominal  Christians  at  this  day ; 
while  others  are  misled  by  a  spirit  of  false  zeal ;  a  ciit- 
ical  attention  to  this  subject  may  be  equally  seasonable 
and  advantageous.  Let  us,  therefore,  distinctly  consid- 
er the  nature,  obligation  and  importance  of  Christian 
zeal. 

Zeal  is  an  equivocal  term,  equally  capable  of  a  good 
and  bad  significalion.  It  is  not  so  properly  one  partic- 
ular passion,  as  the  heat  or  fervour  of  the  affections  in. 
general.  The  original  word  rendered  zealous  signifies 
exceedingly  hot ;  which  imports  a  vehement  exercise  of 
the  passions.  Zeal  then  is  either  good  or  bad,  accord- 
ing to  its  direction  and  management.  Accordingly, 
c 


4  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  [SfiR.  t 

the  sacred  writers  frequently  use  the  term  hi  an  ill  sense, 
and  sometimes  in  a  virtuous  one.  St.  Paul  reckons  it 
among  tlie  works  of  the  Jlcsh^  that  is,  those  vices  which 
characterize  the  cainal  and  ungodly  world.  "  The 
works  of  the  flesh  are  hatred,  strife,  emulation,"  or  zeal. 
So  the  cimying^  the  hitter  en^uyhig  condemned  by  St. 
James  is,  in  the  original,  zeal.  The  reason,  A\hy  it  is 
so  often  placed  among  the  vices,  is  because  the  heat  of 
human  passions  is  for  the  most  part  irregulai',  cither  in 
its  motive  and  object,  or  in  its  manner  and  degree  of  op- 
eration- Zeal  becomes  a  virtue,  only  when  our  affec- 
tions are  fixed  on  proper  objects,  and  suited,  in  man- 
ner and  measure  of  exercise,  to  their  nature  and  impor- 
tance. 

Genuine  Christian  zeal  takes  its  rise  in  a  well  regulat- 
ed or  sanctified  heart,  and  is  equally  opposed  to  careless 
indolence,  and  to  a  selfish,  noisy,  or  censorious  vehe- 
mence. It  is  a  meek  and  humble,  a  kind  and  gentle 
.flame,  as  full  of  tenderness  and  goodness,  as  it  is  of 
ardour  and  boldness.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  enlighten- 
ed and  chrected  by  kiioivlcdge.  Zeal,  \\  ithout  this,  is  a 
blind  and  brufcil  impetuosity,  which  tends  to  precipitate 
its  subject  into  an  endless  Iab3Tinth  of  error,  irregularity 
and  mischief.  A  weak  and  ignorant  mind  and  strong 
passions  form  a  dreadful  compound,  and  threaten  de- 
plorable consequences..  If  a  man  for  want  of  knowledge 
think  that  to  be  tlie  cause  of  God,  which  is  directly  the 
reverse,  or  that  to  be  heretical  or  sinful,  w  hich  is  impor- 
tant truth  or  duty,  it  is  evident  that  the  more  zealously 
he  exerts  himself  in  favour  of  the  one,  or  in  opposition 
to  the  other,  in  the  same  proportion  he  builds  up  false- 
hood and  vice  upon  the  ruins  of  truth  and  virtue. 
Where  there  is  great  heat  and  no  light,  it  cannot  be  that 
iliununating  fire  which  descendeth  from  above  ;   but  is 


Ser.  I.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  5 

rather  that  dark,  polluted  flame,  which  fumes  up  from  be- 
neath, w  hich  is  earthly,  sensual,  diabolical.  Such  was 
the  zeal  of  the  bulk  of  the  Jcavs  in  the  apostolic  age  : 
"  they  had  a  zeal  for  God,  but  not  according  to  knowl- 
edge. ' '  They  had  a  glowing  fervour  in  maintaining  those 
legal  rites,  which  God  himself  had  ordained  ;  and  from 
the  impulse  of  this  zeal  for  the  law,  they  rejected  Christ 
and  his  gospel,  not  kno^ving,  as  they  might,  or  ought 
to  have  done,  that  he  A\as  the  end  of  the  law  for  right- 
eousness to  every  one  that  believeth.  Thus  the  religious 
zeal  of  that  generation,  and  of  succeeding  JeA\s  to  this 
day,  was  and  is  no  better  than  blind,  raging,  obdurate 
infidelity.  A  cleai'  and  sound  knowledge  of  the  object 
is,  therefore,  essential  to  regulai-  and  virtuous  zeal. 

Secondly,  it  must  also  be  tempered  with  prudence. 
For  though  the  object  of  it  be  good,  yet  if  there  be  not 
discretion  to  moderate  and  direct  its  career,  it  will  be- 
come a  pernicious  and  ungovernable  fury,  even  in  a  vir- 
tuous cause.  In  the  midst  of  the  most  pious  zeal  we 
have  constant  need  of  that  caution,  '^  Be  ye  ^\•ise  as 
serpents,  and  harmless  as  doves."  Prudence  must  ad- 
just our  religious  ardour  to  the  real  weight  and  impor? 
tancc  of  things  ;  lest  like  the  ancient  Pharisees,  we  ex- 
haust our  zeal  upon  the  outlines  and  appendages  of  reli- 
gion, and  become  regardless  of  its  vital  and  essential 
branches.  Great  heat  about  circumstantials,  and  coldr 
ness  respecting  the  substance  of  virtue  and  piety,  argue 
either  great  ignorance  or  gross  hypocrisy.  Prudence 
must  also  direct  our  zeal  in  the  choice  of  means  for  ac- 
complishing our  end.  No  pretended  zeal  for  a  goocj 
end  can  sanctify  or  warrant  a  bad  action.  It  is  a  vicious-, 
not  a  virtuous  zeal  to  do  evil  that  good  may  come ;  to 
abdicate  truth,  justice,  decency  or  honour,  for  the  sak^ 
of  suppressing  error  and  vice,  or  fqr  defending,  or  prop- 


5  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  [Ser.!. 

agating  Christian  truth  and  righteousness.  This  is  to 
commit  sin  ourselves  in  the  support  and  under  the  mask 
of  hoUness  ;  it  is  to  stab  religion  with  the  very  u  capons 
we  employ  in  its  defence.  Hence  Job  condemns  such 
conduct  in  language  of  mingled  surprize  and  detestation. 
"Will  ye  speak  wickedly  for  God?  Or  talk  deceitl'uUy 
for  him?"  Prudence  must  likewise  temper  the  decree 
of  our  zeal  and  its  mode  of  operation.  Though  both  our 
end  and  means  be  of  the  best  kind ;  yet  the  flame  of  oijr 
passions,  when  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch,  will  greatly 
endanger  both  ourselves  and  our  cause,  unless  Christian 
discretion  guard  our  temper  and  conduct.  Hence  the 
apostle  reproA^es  the  2eal  of  the  Corinthians,  even  in  the 
exercise  of  their  extraordinary/  spiritual  gifts,  because, 
for  want  of  wise  regulation,  it  produced  great  disorder  in 
their  religious  assemblies ;  such  as  one  speaking  in  an 
unkno^vn  tongue,  a  second  singing,  a  thii'd  teaching, 
another  uttering  a  revelation,  and  even  their  women 
speaking  in  the  church :  upon  which  he  remarks,  '-'^112^, 
stranger  should  come  in  among  you,  will  he  not  say,  ye 
are  mad  ?"  And  proceeds  to  exhort  them,  and  through 
them  all  succeeding  Christians ;  "  Let  all  your  things 
be  done  to  edifying  ;"  "let  all  things  be  done  decently 
and  in  order." 

Thirdly.  Zeal  must  ever  be  accompanied  with 
charity.  Charity  or  love,  considered  in  its  due  extent,  is 
the  principal  and  most  lovely  grace  of  Christianity  ;  and 
ail  religion  is  nothing  ^\  ithout  it.  It  must  not  there, 
fore  be  injured  or  sacrificed  on  every  Ijttle  occasion.  It 
must  not  be  violated  on  any  occasion,  merely  to  gratify 
our  own  humour  or  passions.  We  are  commanded  to 
fallow  peace  with  all  men,  and  to  give  up  every  thing 
but  tmth  and  holiness  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  and  edify- 
ing our  brethren.     L^  short,  as  true  zeal  js  but  the  fire 


Ser.  I.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL,  | 

of  love,  the  ardour  of  Christian  benevolence  ;  so  when 
it  is  pointed  even  against  dangerous  error,  against  scan- 
dalous and  destructive  wickedness,  it  assumes  a  mjld 
and  composed,  a  tender  and  compassionate  air,  and  thus 
discovers  a  warm  affection  to  the  person  of  the  heretic 
or  transgressor,  a  pungent  grief  for  his  sin  and  danger, 
and  an  earnest  desire  of  his  reformation  and  welfare, 
while  it  faithfully  testifies  against  his  fatal  principles  and 
conduct.  Both  prudence  and  charity  demand  the  most 
kind  and  tender  treatment,  even  of  the  most  bitter 
enemies  to  gospel  truth  and  holiness ;  since  this  is  the 
only  promising  method  of  rescuing  them  from  their  pre- 
sent dangerous  condition.  Besides,  it  is  a  shocking  in- 
congruity to  display  an  angry,  overbearing  or  persecut- 
ing zeal  in  defending  and  enforcing  those  Christian 
doctrines  and  duties,  which  breathe  nothing  but  love 
and  peace,  which  reveal  the  astonishing  benevolence 
and  grace  of  God,  and  inculcate  a  corresponding  temper 
on  man !  Such  an  ungracious  zeal  for  the  doctrines  of 
grace  is  self  contradictory  and  self  condemned ;  it  proves 
its  possessors  to  be  stmngers  to  the  hearty  belief  and  vi- 
tal influence  of  these  doctrines,  and  of  course  ranks  them 
in  the  black  catalogue  of  practical  infidels  and  hypocrites. 
This  leads  us  to  add,  that  as  true  religious  zeal  origi- 
nates in  right  affections  of  heart ;  so  it  always  begins  its 
reformation  at  home.  The  subject  of  it  first  casts  the 
beam  from  his  own  eye  :  his  first  and  highest  indigna- 
tion is  pointed  against  his  own  faults,  and  is  vigorously 
exerted  for  his  personal  correction  and  moral  improve- 
ment. It  is  absurd  to  imagine  that  a  person  can  truly 
hate  sin  in  others,  if  he  fondly  cherishes  or  spares  it  in 
himself;  or  that  he  can  earnestly  seek  the  amendment 
and  welfare  of  his  neighbour  or  the  public,  if  he  have  no 
regard  to  his  ow^n.     But  when  a  man  is  properly  zeal- 


t  ON  CmilSTIAN  ZEAL.  [Ser.I. 

oiis  at  home,  he  will,  by  nutiiral  consequence,  extend 
his  charity  abroad.  He  ^vill  be  zealous  of  good  ^\orks, 
both  in  himself  and  others.  True  benevolence  joined 
widi  piety  Mill  quicken  his  zeal,  both  against  die  sin, 
and  for  the  happiness  of  all  around.  David  was  grieved, 
yea,  poured  out  rivers  of  tears,  when  he  beheld  trans- 
gressors. Lot  was  vexed  with  the  filthy  conversation  of 
the  wicked  Sodomites.  Paul's  spirit  was  inflamed  with- 
in him,  at  the  sight  of  Athenian  idolatry.  The- 
church  of  Ephesus  is  commended  for  not  being  able  to 
bear  them  that  are  evil,  and  for  trying  and  excommunir 
eating  false  heaited  professors.  Our  Saviour  himself 
v^'ith  holy  severity  drove  the  money  changers  out  of  the 
temple,  and  thus  verified  that  prophetic  passage,  "  the 
zeal  of  thi'j-je  house  hath  eaten  me  up."  In  conformity 
to  these  examples,  true  zeal  will  prompt  tho  most  ear- 
nest, yet  prudent  efforts  for  the  instruction  and  reforma- 
tion, for  the  present  and  everlasting  interests  of  maur 
kind. 

Having  explained  the  nature  of  die  duty  enjoined,  we 
shall  now  illustrate  the  ohUgatioiis^  ^vhich  urge  us  to 
practise  it. 

First,  the  importance  of  -  religion  deserves  tliis  zeal. 
If  natural  and  revealed  religion  be  true,  it  it  the  great- 
est and  most  interesting  of  all  truths,  and  therefore  mer- 
its our  most  zealous  regard.  If  there  be  a  God,  as 
natural  religion  teaches,  he  is  certainly  the  most  glorious 
and  perfect  of  all  beings,  and  sustains  the  most  impor- 
tant relations  to  us.  Now  is  it  fit  that  we  should  treat 
such  a  iking  with  cold  indifference  ?  That  we  should 
feel  and  express  no  warm  emotion  of  love,  gratitude, 
and  veneration  towards  supreme,  original  beauty,  good- 
ness and  greatness  ?  Is  it  not  reasonable  that  we  should 
admire    consummate   wisdom,    reverence   omnipotent 


Ser.i.]  on  christian  zeal.  9 

power,  /ear  and  confide  in  impartial  justice,  temi>cred 
with  infinite  mercy,  gratefully  adore  unbounded  benefi* 
cence,  constantly  imitate  and  delight  in  perfect  moral 
rectitude  and  glory  ;  that  we  should  studiously 
seek  the  friendship,  and  avoid  the  displeasure  of  a  Be- 
ing, whose  favour  is  life,  and  whose  anger  is  death  ?  If 
God  be  our  Supreme  Father,  ought  we  not  to  pay  him 
the  highest  tokens  of  filial  regard  ?  If  he  be  our  Ruler 
and  Judge,  ought  we  not  to  yield  him  our  cordial  sub- 
jection and  zealous  obedience  ?  Should  it  not  be  o.iir 
main  concern  to  obtain  his  final  approving  sentence  ? 
To  be  zealous  in  our  regards  to  the  Deity,  is  the  first 
dictate  of  reason  and  moral  propriety  ;  but  to  treat  the 
important  character,  relations,  and  approbation  of  such 
a  Being,  with  unfeeling  neglect,  is  the  greatest  incon- 
sistency, madness,  and  wickedness,  which  rational  crea- 
tures can  commit. 

Again,  the  revealed  perfections,  offices,  and  benefits 
of  Jesus  Christ,  loudly  claim  our  pious  and  grateful 
zeal.  To  believe  Jesus  Christ  to  be  the  Son  of  God, 
and  yet  trample  him  under  our  feet ;  to  own  him  as  our 
divine  Prophet,  and  yet  despise  his  instructions  ;  our 
great  High  Priest,  and  yet  undervalue  his  atoning  blood ; 
our  divine  King  ;  and  yet  neglect  or  insult  his  authori- 
ty and  laws ;  our  only  and  all  sufficient  Saviour,  and  yet 
conduct  as  if  we  did  not  need,  or  could  not  safely  trust 
his  mediation ;  w^hat  shocking  incongruities  are  these  ! 
Yet  this  is  the  true  picture  of  the  lukewarm  professor 
of  Christianity  !  He  believes  that  Christ  has  exhibited 
the  greatest  love  to  sinful  and  wretched  man,  that  ever 
was  known  ;  yet  he  feeis  no  returns  of  love,  no  ardent 
sentiments  of  gratitude  to  this  Philanthropist !  He  can 
heartily  esteem  and  thank  a  generous  friend,  who  has 
made  great    exertions   or  sacrifices  for  his  happiness  ; 


10  6N  christian  ZEAL^  [See.  I. 

he  can  almost  adore  the  disinterested  patriot,  who  has 
worn  out  his  hfe  in  the  service  of  his  country  ;  yet  he 
regards  with  indifference  that  great  Friend  of  souls,  who 
Was  nailed  to  the  cross  for  his  own  rebellious  creatures, 
and  submitted  to  immense  labour,  humiliation,  and  suf- 
ferings for  their  salvation  I  Can  any  thing  be  more  ab- 
surd and  abominable  than  this  ?  Do  not  such  miracles 
of  condescending  and  expensive  love,  as  the  gospel  dis- 
plays, demand  the  most  ardent  and  admiring  gratitude  ? 
.Yes, 

"  Passion  is  reason,  transport  temper  here." 

Further,  That  future,  eternal  state  of  retribution,  which 
religion  reveals,  challenges  our  zealous  attention.  To 
believe  in  a  future  happiness  reserved  for  the  righteous, 
a  happiness  large  as  our  utmost  capacities  and  wishes, 
and  lasting  as  our  immortal  spirits ;  to  believe  also  in  a 
contrasted  state  of  misery  of  equal  intenseness  and  du- 
ration, destined  for  the  finally  impenitent ;  and  yet  prac- 
tically to  regard  both  the  one  and  the  other  as  consum- 
mate tiifles ;  to  estimate  the  momentary  pleasures  and 
pains  of  a  dying  life,  above  tlie  perfect  joys  and  sorrows 
of  eternity,  is  certainly  the  most  prodigious  inconsist- 
ency and  madness  !  Those  Cliiistian  professors,  who 
act  in  this  manner,  do  either  really  believe  in  these  fu- 
ture scenes,  or  they  do  not.  If  the  latter,  they  are  not 
only  inexcusably  blind  and  hardened  infidels,  who  have 
resisted  the  clear  light  of  reason,  conscience,  and  revela- 
tion, but  they  are  likewise  guilty  of  trifling  both  with  God 
and  man,  by  a  mock  profession,  which  is  contradicted  by 
their  sentiments,  as  well  as  their  practice.  If  the  form" 
er,  they  are  still  more  inconsistent  and  monstrous  ;  for 
they  believe  and  trifle  ;  while  the  very  devils  believe  and 
tremble^  Surely  endless,  inconceivable  blessedness  and 
misery  ai'c  sufiiciently  important  to  require  the   most 


Ser.L]  on  christian  zeal.  u 

solemn,  earnest,  unremitted  attention  of  those,  who  must 
quickly  inherit  the  one  or  the  other  ! 

As  tlie  leading  doctrines  of  religion,  so  its  various 
duties  demand  our  utmost  zeal.  The  offices  of  piety, 
which  n  e  owe  to  God  and  his  Son,  should  be  animated 
with  the  greatest  warmth  and  vigour  of  affection.  Rea- 
son as  well,  as  revelation  requires  us  to  love  him  with 
all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength  ;  to  fear 
and  trust,  to  worship  and  obey  him,  with  the  greatest 
possible  reverence  and  delight ;  to  mention  his  glorious 
name  vvith  awful  admiration ;  to  read  and  hear  his  word 
with  an  esteem,  love,  and  submission  becoming  the  maj- 
esty of  the  Author,  and  the  greatness  of  the  Master ;  to 
confess  our  sins  to  him  with  the  deepest  contrition ;  to 
beg  his  forgiving  and  saving  mercy  with  fer^'ent  impor- 
tunity ;  and  to  celebrate  his  benefits  with  the  most  live- 
ly thankfulness.  Reason  and  Scripture  also  demand, 
that  our  relative  and  moral  duties,  our  works  of  justice 
and  charity  be  performed  in  good  earnest,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  that  hearty  and  zealous  love  to  our  neighbour, 
which  regards  him,  as  another  self,  and  seeks  his  good, 
as  our  own.  In  a  word,  zeal  in  religious  and  moral  du- 
ties constitutes  their  very  life  ;  for  as  the  essence  of  vir- 
tue lies  in  fervent  love  to  God  and  man,  it  follows,  that 
a  cold,  indifferent  temper  destroys  the  very  spirit  both 
of  piety  and  morality,  and  turns  them  into  a  mere  car- 
case without  the  soul.  Hence  the  Scriptures  constantly 
describe  the  Christian  life,  as  one  continued  effort  of  la- 
borious zeal ;  as  a  race,  a  fight,  an  agony  ;  v,  hich 
leads  us  to  ol>serve. 

Secondly,  That  as  the  excellence  and  importance  of 
religion  deserve  our  zeal,  so  the  dilficiilties  attending  it 
render  this  zeal  absolutely  necessary.  The  service  is 
so  arduous,  attended  with  so  many  self-denying  duties, 

H 


12  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  [See,!. 

and  with  such  various,  powerful,  and  discouraging  oppo- 
sitiou  ;  that,  unless  we  possess  a  large  fund  of  holy  zea! 
and  vigour,  we  shall  be  apt  to  tu'e,  despond,  and  give 
over  the  conflict.  A  deliberate,  confirmed  zeal  must 
furnish  the  weapons  and  sinews  of  this  spiritual  ivarfare. 
Under  its  animating  and  fortifying  influence  we  must 
run,  and  not  be  \\eary  ;  and  walk,  and  not  faint. 

Thirdly.  We  can  ha^'e  no  comforting  evidence  of 
our  own  sincerity,  without  a  becoming  fervour  in  relig- 
ion. For  Mhere  the  object  is  so  great  and  momentous,  a 
sincere  concern  about  it  must  imply  zealous  regard  ;  of 
course  the  want,  or  even  decay  of  this  must  destroy,  or 
at  least  darken  our  religious  evidences  and  prospects, 
and  check  the  delightful  consciousness  of  our  Chiistian 
integrity. 

Fourthly.  Our  usefulness  to  the  Christian  cause  and 
to  the  best  interests  of  mankind  depends  on  our  compli- 
ance with  the  precept  before  us.  If  religious  profes- 
soi's  are  not  zealous  in  their  holy  calling,  instead  of  prop- 
erly exemplifying  and  recommending  Cliristianit}',  they 
will  hold  it  up  to  the  world  in  a  suspicious,  if  not  con- 
temptible light,  and  give  occasion  for  the  belief,  that  they 
themselves  secretly  reject  and  despise  it.  Thus,  instead 
of  promoting,  they  will  obstruct  the  faith  and  happy 
influence  of  religion  among  , their  fellow- men.  But  a 
uniform,  well  tempered  zeal  in  theii-  profession  at  once 
evinces  to  beholders  their  own  sincere  and  enlightened 
attachment  to  it ;  displays  to  their  view  the  reality,  the 
beauty,  and  moral  eiTicacy  of  its  doctrines  and  precepts ; 
while  it  directly  prompts  the  most  assiduous  endeavours 
to  make  them  truly  good  and  happy  ;  and  thus  in  vari- 
ous methods  advances  the  interest  and  honour  of  the 
gospel  and  its  divine  Author. 

Fifthl}-.  The  examples  of  the  best  of  men  in  every 
age,  of  all  the  holy  prophets,  apostles,    and  martyrs,  of 


Ser.1.1  on  CHRISTIAN"  zeal.  If 

the  blessed  angels,  yea  of  God,  of  Christ,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  urge  us  to  be  zealous.  They  call  upon  us  to 
emulate  their  sacred  ardour,  and  thus  successfully  co- 
operate ^\uth  them  in  the  most  glorious,  and  benevolent 
cause.  To  use  the  words  of  a  very  eminent  British 
courtier,  "  Ah,  my  friends,  while  we  laugh  and  triPie, 
all  things  are  serious  around  us.  God  is  serious  in 
calling  and  beaiing  \^  ith  us,  Christ  is  serious,  who 
shed  his  blood  for  us.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  serious,  "sv  ho 
stri\-eth  ascainst  the  obstinacv  of  our  hearts.  The  Holy 
Scriptures  bring  to  our  ears  the  most  serious  things  in 
tlie  ^\orld.  The  holy  sacraments  represent  the  most  a-w- 
iiil  and  aifecting  matters.  The  whole  creation  is  zealous 
in  serving  God  and  us.  All  nature  is  full  of  ardent  en- 
erg}'  and  exertion,  is  in  constant  labour  and  travail  for 
our  happiness.  All,  that  are  in  heaven  or  hell,  are  seri- 
ously engaged.  How  then  can  we  sleep  and  trifle  ?"  we, 
for  whose  sake  this  universal  zeal  is  expended ! 

Finally.  Our  opportunities  for  zealous  and  useful  ac- 
tivity ai'e  very  short  and  uncertain ;  yet  these  opportu- 
nities are  our  only  seed-time  for  eternity.  Since  then 
the  time  of  life  and  exertion  is  flying ;  since  death  is  has- 
tening ;  since  funeral  knells  are  continually  calling ;  shall 
we  not  eagerly  improve  our  precious,  but  fleeting  mo- 
ments in  the  great  business,  for  which  we  Vvcre  made 
and  redeemed,  and  on  which  infinite  consequences  are 
suspended  ? 

Our  subject,  in  the  review,  may  serve  to  explain  and 
enforce  the  important  use  of  the  passions  in  religion. 
For  it  has  been  shown,  that  Christian  zeal,  which  is  the 
soul  both  of  piety  and  virtue,  is  nothing  else,  than  the 
due  and  ardent  exercise  of  the  affections  upon  their  high- 
est objects.  Consequendy,  to  exclude  the  affections 
from  our  spiritual  affairs  upon  the  idea,  that  religion  is  a 
reasonable  service,  is  equally  absurd,  unscriptural,  and 


14  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  [Ser.  L 

pernicious.  Perhaps  the  Christians  of  former  ages  laid 
too  much  stress  upon  a  severe  and  superstitious  strict- 
ness in  the  duties  of  morality ;  upon  m.echanical  and 
enthusiastic  fervours  and  raptures  in  rehgion ;  and  many 
substituted  these  in  the  room  of  substantial  virtue  and 
godliness.  But  from  this  extravagant  or  perverted  use 
of  religious  zeal  in  preceding  ages  it  would  be  wrong 
to  infer,  as  some  of  the  present  generation  seem  disposed 
to  do,  that  the  passions  ought  to  be  wholly  shut  out 
from  the  Christian  life,  and  that  piety  and  virtue,  in  or* 
der  to  be  rational,  must  consist  merely  in  the  cold  ap- 
probation and  the  decent  external  performance  of  duty. 
Certainly  the  passions,  considered  as  an  original  part  of 
our  constitution,  are  not  in  their  OAvn  nature  either  un- 
reasonable or  useless  ;  but  greatly  the  reverse.  Nor  can 
it  be  justly  said,  that  the  objects  of  religion  do  not  de- 
serve the  homage,  or  its  duties  and  difficulties  require 
the  aid  of  our  aft'ections ;  for  the  reverse  of  both  is  loudly 
proclaimed  by  reason  and  Scripture,  as  we  have  seen  in 
this  discourse.  Nor  can  it  be  truly  asserted,  that  the 
passions  are  too  mean  and  gross  a  part  of  our  frame  to 
be  a  suitable  and  acceptable  oblation  on  the  altar  of  re- 
ligion ;  for  that  pious  fervour,  which  we  now  advocate, 
is  something  unspeakably  more  noble,  than  those  un- 
meaning and  tumultuous  animal  emotions,  tvhich  visi- 
ble objects  fiequently  excite,  or  which  religious  consid- 
erations sometimes  produce  in  persons  of  warm  consti- 
tutions. It  is  nothing  else,  than  the  strong  exercise  of 
mental  or  spiritual  aiieciions,  such  as  love,  gratitude, 
hope,  confidence,  and  joy  towards  the  invisible,  the  in- 
finite Parent  and  Redeemer  of  the  world ;  affections, 
which,  fiu-  from  terminating  in  short-lived  mechimical 
transports,  manifest  their  rational  origin  aiid  qualit}% 
their  sinceriiy  and  streagi.h  by  their  permanent  and 
universal    influence   upon  the    temper    and   conduct. 


Seb.i.]  on  christian  zeal.  X$ 

Surely  this  employment  of  our  affections- is  the  most 
worthy  and  acceptable  homage  ^\  e  can  possibly  render 
to  the  Deity ;  and  nothing  short  of  this  deserves  the 
name  of  rational  piety,  or  even  of  sound  morality  :  for 
the  cool  perception,  or  even  the  lifeless  performance  of 
what  is  right  falls  essentially  short  of  true  ^-irtue  ;  be- 
cause it  does  not  include  the  supreme  affection  of  the 
heart,  which,  in  the  view  both  of  reason  and  Scripture, 
is  the  great  source  of  moral  goodness.  In  a  word,  it  is 
the  main  office  and  glory  of  the  Christian  dispensation, 
not  to  set  aside  or  extinguish  our  affectiofrs,  like  the 
unnatural  and  barbarous  system  of  the  stoics,  but  to  rec- 
tify their  disorders,  and  thus  to  bring  them  back  to 
their  original  end,  namely,  the  service  of  God,  and  the 
moral  perfection  and  happiness  of  man.  Agreeably,  the 
descriptions,  the  precepts,  and  examples  of  piety,  held 
up  in  the  Bible,  constantly  inculcate  such  a  fervent,  yet 
judicious  exercise  of  religious  affections,  as  we  have 
been  recommending ;  while  the  doctrines  of  revelation 
are  admirably  fitted  to  excite  and  promote  it. 

Let  us  throw  open  our  minds  to  the  influence  of  the 
apostolical  precept ;  and  especially  let  it  be  our  first  con- 
cern, that  our  hearts  may  steadily  feel,  and  our  conduct 
express  those  various  affections,  \\  hich  the  great  and  mer- 
ciful discoveries  of  the  gospel  demand.  Let  those,  v,  ho 
have  hitherto  treated  these  matters  v*  ith  careless  indiffer- 
ence, consider  the  shocking  impropriety  of  such  a  be- 
haviour. Let  them  awake  from  their  fatal  slumbers,  and 
earnestly  seek  the  grace  and  salvation,  ^hich  Cliristian- 
ity  offers.  Let  Christian  professors  realize,  how  -unbe- 
coming a  lukewarm  temper  is  in  so  sacred  a  profession. 
Let  them  abhor  the  thought  of  a  timid  or  treacherous 
neutrality  at  a  time,  when  the  name  and  interest  of  their 
blessed  Master  are  openly  blasphemed  and  powerfully 


16  6N  christian  2EAL»  CSer.L 

opposed.  Let  them  resolve,  at  such  a  crisis,  to  be  ei- 
ther constant,  exemplaiy  Christians,  or  avowed  in- 
fidels. 

Let  those  of  us,  who  either  are,  or  propose  at  some 
future  period  to  be,  public  Christian  instructers,  deep- 
ly imbibe  and  assiduously  cultivate  the  Christian  spir- 
it. Such  persons  are  eminently  bound  to  be  zealous 
friends  to  religion  themselves.  To  use  the  Mords  of  a 
masterly  writer  on  this  subject,*  "  It  is  of  the  utmost 
consequence,  that  a  speaker  in  the  pulpit  firmly  believe 
both  the  truth  and  importance  of  those  principles,  which 
he  inculcates  on  others ;  not  only,  that  he  believes  them 
speculatively,  but  have  a  lively  and  serious  feeling  of 
them.  This  will  give  an  earnestness  and  strength,  a 
fervour  of  piety  to  his  exhortations,  superior  in  its  effects 
to  all  the  ails  of  studied  eloquence ;  and,  ^^  ithout  it,  the 
assistance  of  art  will  seldom  be  able  to  conceal  the  mere 
declaimer.  This  will  make  his  discourses  solid,  co- 
gent, and  useful ;  it  will  prevent  those  ostentatious  ha- 
rangues, which  have  no  other  aim,  tlian  to  amaze  an 
audience,  or  raise  their  admiration  of  the  speaker."  I 
cannot  forbear  adding,  that,  as  open  dissipation  or  profli- 
gacy in  a  young  member  at  the  university,  -who  after- 
wards becomes  a  preacher,  must  give  a  lasting  \\  ound 
to  his  reputation,  comfort,  and  usefulness  in  that  profes- 
sion, as  was  largely  shown  to  us,  the  last  Lord's  day  ;  so 
a  theological  student,  who,  with  the  sacred  desk  in  his 
e3'e,  has  so  little  virtuous  zeal,  as  to  be  afraid  or  asham- 
ed to  bear  the  least  testmiony  against  irregularity,  Aice, 
or  even  irreligion  in  his  fellow  students,  affords  a  poor 
presage  of  that  independent  integrity,  courage,  and  ar- 
dour in  reproving  sin,  and  promoting  the  cause  of  holi- 
ness, which  are  leading  traits  in  the  faithful  and  useful 
minister  of  the  gospel. 

•  Dr.  Blair. 


Ser.  l]  on  christian  zeal,  17 

Finally.  To  awaken  and  keep  alive  in  all  our  bosoms 
the  holy  zeal  now  inculcated,  let  us  maintain  a  constant 
and  familiar  intercourse  with  the  great  objects  and  in- 
citements of  it.  Let  serious  meditation  and  devotion 
accompany  a  regular  and  affectionate  attendance  oa 
all  the  institutions  of  our  holy  religion. 

I  shall  close  with  briefly  pressing  the  duties  before 
us  on  all  classes  of  my  hearers.     Let  holy  zeal  and  en- 
ergy animate  all  the  various  pursuits,  to  which  you  are 
called.    Let  the  duties,  even  of  your  secular  callings,  be 
peiformed  with  serious  diligence.     Remember,  that  the 
highest  as  well,  as  lo'west  grades  in  human  society  are 
bound  to  fill  up  their  time  and  rank  in  the  community 
with  some  kind   of  useful  and  zealous  industry  ;   and 
those,  who  think  themselves  above  this  obligation,  \A'ould 
do  well  to  consider  that  dreadful  sentence,  "  Cast  ye  the 
slothful,  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness,  where 
is  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth."     Let  parents  and 
governors  of  families,  while  they  reflect  on  their  solemn 
and  arduous  trust,  be  incited  to  discharge  it  in  the  most 
earnest,  yet  prudent  and  tender  manner.  Let  the  ^\•ords 
of  God,  the  instructions  of  religion  and  virtue  be  con- 
tinually in  our  heaits  and  mouths ;  and  let  us  teach  them 
diligently  to  our  children,  talking  of  them  when  we  sit 
in  our  houses,  when  we  walk  by  the  way,  ^\  hen  we  lie 
do\vn,  and  when  we   arise   up.     Let   neighbours  and 
friends  endeavour  ^ith  prudent  zeal  to  enlighten,  re- 
claim, establish,  or  comfort  their  ignorant  or  ungodly, 
their   erroneous,   watering,    or  disconsolate   brethren. 
Let  those,  who  are  distinguished  by  their  talents  and 
wealth,  their  power  and  influence,  be  as  rich  and  zeal- 
ous in  good  works,  as  they  are  eminent  in  useful  ability. 
Let  unrenewed,  impenitent  sinners  awake  from  their  fa- 
tal  slumbers,  and  earnestly  seek  divine  mercy  and  salva- 
tion.    Let  me  addi^ess  each  of  them,  as  the  mai'iners 


18  ON  CHRISTIAN  ZEAL.  [Ser.  I, 

did  Jonah.  **  What  meanest  tliou,  O  sleeper?  Arise, 
call  upon  thy  God ;  if  so  be  that  God  will  think  upon 
thee,  that  thou  perish  not."  If  endless  bliss  or  wo  be 
of  any  importance  to  thee,  rouse  from  thy  careless  indo- 
lence ;  consider  and  bewail  thy  sin  and  misery ;  look 
out  for  the  needful  and  appointed  remedy ;  cry  mightily 
to  the  divine  Saviour  for  his  reconciling,  restoring  grace  ; 
never  rest,  till  thy  soul  has  sensibly  received  the  trans- 
cript of  God's  law,  the  impression  of  Christ's  gospel, 
and  thus  the  image  and  friendship  of  thy  Creator  ^nd 
Redeemer. 

Let  Christian  professors  realize,  that  nothing  can  be 
more  unbecoming,  disgraceful,  or  pernicious,  than  a 
lukewarm  temper  in  so  sacred  a  profession.  Let  them 
therefore  resolve  to  be  either  cold  or  hot;  zealous 
Christians,  or  consistent  avowed  infidels. 

Let  declining,  or  doubting  saints  penitently  return  to 
their  former  zeal,  and  to  their  first  w^orks.  Let  them  dil- 
igently search  the  Scriptures  and  their  own  hearts ;  and 
in  every  suitable  and  prescribed  method  wait  earnestly, 
yet  patiently  and  submissively  on  God  for  renewed  ani- 
mation and  comfort  in  the  religious  life. 

Finall}-.  Let  Christians  in  general  carry  a  spirit  of  holy 
zeal  into  all  the  duties,  which  they  owe  to  themselves, 
to  theii  fellow  men,  and  to  their  God.  To  this  end  let 
each  one  bring  home  to  his  heart  such  questions  as 
these.  Can  I  do  no  more,  than  this,  for  that  Being, 
who  gave  and  deserves  my  all,  and  who  has  shown  me 
infinite  favour  ?  Can  I  do  no  more,  for  my  Sa\'iour, 
W'ho  died  and  endured  so  much,  so  patiently  and  gen- 
erously for  me  ?  Can  I  do  no  more,  when  my  own  eter- 
nal salvation  is  the  prize  ?  Can  I  do  no  more  for  my 
neighbours,  fiiends,  children  ;  for  the  church  of  my 
blessed  Master  ?  Can  I  do  no  more,  a\  ho  have  loitered 
so  long,  Avho  am  no\v  perliaps  doing  my  last ;  who  have 


Ser.i.  on  christian  zeal.'  19 

so  many  encouragements  and  helps ;  so  many  mercies 
to  draw,  and  afflictions  to  rouse  me  ;  who  chose  such  a 
Master,  such  a  work,  and  such  a  reward  ?  Let  us 
plead  these  questions  with  our  own  hearts  and  with  our 
Maker  ;  till  we  duly  feel  their  quickening  power ;  till  we 
become  as  a  flame  of  fire  in  the  service  of  God  and  our 
generation. 


On  brotherly  Reproof* 


Leviticus  xix.  17. 

T/iou  shaft  not  luite  thy  brother  in  thine  heart  i  thou 
shah  in  any  wise  rebuke  thy  ne'ighboury  and  not  suffer 
sin  upon  him. 


I 


T  is  a  subject  of  just  and  general  complaint,  that- 
honest  and  faithful  friendship  in  our  mutual  communi- 
cations and  dealings  is  become  ver}^  unfashionable  ; 
and  a  style  of  flattery  and  dissimulation  has  crept  into 
our  ordinary  social  intercourse ;  insomuch  that  the  good 
old  practice  of  generously  pointing-  out,  and  endeavour- 
inp*  to  rectify,  the  eiTors  and  faults  of  our  neighbour,  is 
in  a  gi"eat  measure  lost,  CA^en  among  Cliristian  profes- 
sors. 

As  this  instance  of  modem  degeneracy  is  both  sinful 
and  pernicious,  it  is  the  duty  of  religious  instructers  to^ 
bear  an  open  testimony  against  itj  and  to  enforce  this 
testimony  by  tlicir  private  and  public  example. 

The  words  just  recited  are  excelletitly  adapted  to 
such  a  design,  as  they  earnestly  inculcate  the  duty  of  re- 
proving our  offending  brethren.  "  Thou  shalt  not  hate 
thy  brother  in  thine  heart ;  thou  shalt  m  any  wise  re^ 
buke  thy  neighbour,  and  not  suffer  sin  upon  him.'* 

Several  things  in  this  precept  deserve  our  particu-. 
lar  notice. 

First.  We  are  commanded  rather  to  reprove  our 
neighbour  openly,  than  to  cherish  secret  hatied  against 


«ER.  !1.3  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF^  Si 

him  for  any  injury  or  offence,  which  he  has  offered  to  us. 
We  are  forbidden  to  "  hate  him  in  our  hearts,"  that  is,  to 
conceive  secret  disaffection  to  him,  and  conceal  resentful, 
vindictive  passions  under  the  veil  of  silence,  or  apparent 
friendship,  till  we  have  a  full  opportunity  of  retaliating. 
But  we  must  rather  give  vent  to  our  honest  displeasure 
at  the  offence,  by  dealing  openly  and  faichfully  with  the 
offender.  In  this  way  we  must  endeavour  to  convince 
him  of  his  fault,  and  thus  extinguish  our  own  resent- 
ment. We  must  rebuke  him  to  his  face,  for  any  fla- 
grant evil,  in  opposition  both  to  divulging  bis  transgres- 
sion to  others,  like  mean  and  cruel  talebearers  (which  is 
strictly  prohibited  in  the  preceding  verse ; )  and  to  base- 
ly flattering,  encouraging,  or  justifying  him  in  his  sin. 

Secondly.  We  are  tlius  to  reuke  him,  in  a  spirit  of  love. 
For  the  duty  of  reproof  being  here  opposed  to  inwai'd  ha- 
tred of  our  brother,  implies  of  course  the  contrary  af- 
fection of  love,  prompting  our  efforts  to  convince  and  re- 
form him,  and  thus  secure  his  forgiveness,  virtue,  and 
final  happiness.  Friendly  rebuke  then  is  an  essential  of- 
fice of  mutual  charity,  which  ought  both  to  be  perform- 
ed and  received  in  love.  "  Let  the  righteous  smite  me," 
said  an  eminent  saint,  "  and  it  shall  be  a  kindness^" 
How  faithful  and  salutary  are  these  wounds  of  a  friend ! 

Thirdly.  Observe  the  great  strictness  of  tiie  com- 
mand ;  "  Thou  shalt  in  any  wise  rebuke  him ;"  that  is, 
thou  shalt,  by  no  means,  on  no  pretence,  omit  this  friend- 
ly oflice ;  \\  hich  denotes,  that  however  ready  men  are 
to  frame  reasons  for  neglecting  it,  none  of  those  excuses 
will  by  any  means  annul  the  binding  force  of  this  duty, 
or  exculpate  the  omission.     For  observe. 

Fourthly,  The  gi'eat  guilt  and  mischief  incurred  by 
such  neglect.  It  is  here  construed  into  hatred  of  our  broth- 
er, and  suffering  sin  upon  him ;  that  is,  sufferiui^  him  to 


S^  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  [Ser.  I;, 

be  under  the.  guilt  of  a  sin,  from  which  our  kind  and 
seasonable  reproof  might  instrumentally  save  him. 
Or  the  words  might  be  rendered,  "  and,"  or  "  so  thou 
shait  not  bear  sin  for  him,"  or  on  his  account;  that  is, 
thou  shalt  not  involve  thyself  in  his  guilt,  as  thou  certain- 
ly wilt  do,  if  thou  dost  not  take  this  method  to  reform 
him.  If  we  reprove  not  the  unfruitful  works  of  dark- 
ness, we  have  fellowship  with  them,  and  become  par- 
takers in  their  guilt. 

The  text,   thus  explained,    compared   with  similar 
passages  of  scripture,  and  with  those  great  principles  of 
nature  and  Christianity,  which  require  us  to  love  our  fel- 
low men,  as  ourselves,  and  promote  their  best  interests 
by  every  suitable  method  in   our  power,    sufficiently 
evinces,  that  mutual  reproof  of  failings  and  sins  in  each 
other  is  an  important  social  duty.     We  are  all  as  much 
bound  to  perform  this  office  to  an  offending  brother,  as 
we  are  to  awake  our  neighbour  from  sleep,  when  his 
house  is  in  flames,  or  to  admonish  him  of  his  danger  and 
urge  him  to  repel  it,  when  we  see  liim  attacked  by  a  ma- 
lignant disease.      That   modish  civilit}^  or  prudence, 
which  pretends  not  to  see,  or  seeing  will  not  reprove, 
the  faults  of  others,  argues  not  a  truly  kind  and  tender, 
but  a  selfish,  unfeeling,  and  unchristian  spirit ;  a  spirit, 
which  makes  private  interest  and  ease  the  centre  of  all 
its  actions.     If  all  mankind,  from  the  beginning,  had 
been  uniformly  governed  by  this  self-seeking  spirit,  so- 
ciety could  not  have  subsisted.     In  other  words,   if  no 
man  had  felt  himself  interested  in  the  welfare  of  others 
as  well,  as  his  own,  men  either  could  not  have  united 
in  social  intercourse,  or  being  embodied,  must  soon 
have  been  scattered  and  dissolved.     Hence  a  cold  in- 
sensibility and  disregard  to  the  moral  conduct  and  wel- 
fare of  our  neighbour  is  a  high  offisnce  against  society 


S^R,  II.l  ON  BROTHERLY  REPRO<^F.  23 

as  well,  as  Christianity,  and  of  course  against  tliat  Be^ 
ing,  who  is  the  supreme   Founder  and  Guardian  of 
both  ;  it  strikes,  not  only  at  the  well  being  of  individ- 
uals, but  at  the  existence  both  of  the  church  and  conir 
jnonwealth. 

But  though  all  men  are  thus  bound  to  seek  the  ref- 
ormation of  transgressors  by  faithfully  repro\ing  them  ; 
yet  this  duty  eminently  belongs  to  some  particular  clasr 
ses  of  mankind  ;  I  mean  diose,  who  are  peculiarly  en^ 
trusted  with  tlie  superintendence  of  others.  All  aur- 
thority  over  others  makes  the  governor,  in  some  sense, 
accountable  for  the  behaviour  of  the  governed  ;  conscr 
quently  the  former  is  as  truly  obliged  to  notice  and 
guard  the  actions  of  the  latter,  as  to  watch  over  his  own. 

Those  magistrates,  parents,  and  instructers  of  youth, 
who  neither  regard  nor  reprove  the  vices  of  those  under 
their  care,  betray  a  most  sacred  and  important  trust, 
Those  civil  officers  are  eminentiy  guilty  m  this  respect, 
whose  peculiar  function  and  solemn  oath  bind  them  to 
investigate  and  animadvert  upon  certain  offences ;  who 
yet,  in  defiance  of  those  sacred  engagements,  wilfully 
shut  their  eyes,  their  ears,  and  their  mouths,  against 
the  most  flagrant  transgressions,  instead  of  faithfully 
arming  against  them  the  sword  both  of  private  reproof  ancj 
public  justice,  Those  parents,  too,  will  be  called  to  a 
terrible  account  at  last  for  the  blood  of  their  children, 
who  have  suffered  them  to  perish  before  their  eyes,  on^ 
ly  for  want  of  telling  them  their  sin  luid  their  danger. 

Those  Christian  teachers  likewise  incur  dreadful 
guilt,  who  refuse  to  see,  or  neglect  to  reprove,  irreligr 
ious  and  demoralizing  principles,  or  prevailing  practical 
impiety  and  \4ce,  especially  when  these  evils  are  spreadr 
ing  over  the  Christian  world.  Oil.  the  other  hand,  that 
minister  deserves  a  double  tribute  of  gratitude  and 


24  CN  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  [Ser.  IL 

honour,  especially  from  his  own  people,  who  is  ready 
to  risk,  and  even  to  sacrifice,  his  own  temporal  ease^ 
profit,  reputation,  yea,  his  worldly  all,  rather  than  witli- 
hold  from  them  such  information,  admonition,  and  re- 
proof, as  he  believes  in  his  conscience  to  be  essential  ta 
their  best  interests. 

Such  a  truly  independent,  magnanimous,  yet  benev- 
olent spirit  ought  to  characterize  every  professed  disci- 
ple, especicilly  ever}^  minister,  of  that  self-denying  Re- 
deemer, who  cheerfully  sacrificed  his  own  comfort^ 
honour,  and  even  life  to  the  great  business  of  reprov- 
ing, healing,  and  saving  a  distempered,  perverse,  and 
unthankful  world.  This  courageous  and  active  zeal, 
however,  by  no  means  precludes,  bat  rather  implies,  as 
we  shall  presently  see,  that  Chriatida  meekness  and  dis- 
cretion, which  are  necessary  to  die  accepLance  and  suc- 
cess of  our  faithful  adniouitions. 

Another  description  of  persons,  to  \\  horn  this  duty  of 
reproof  pecuiiai'ly  belongs,  is  the  class  of  professed 
and  intimate  friends.  Every  man  may  justly  challenge 
this  office  from  his  bosom  associate,  as  an  indispensable 
debt  of  friendship.  For,  to  use  ihe  language  of  an  elo- 
quent viriter,  ''  To  ^hat  purpose  does  a  man  take 
another  person  into  his  heart,  so  as  to  make  him  hia 
second  self,  his  second  conscience,  if  the  latter  will  not 
be  impartial  in  observing,  reproving,  and  amending  his 
faults  as  well,  as  in  applauding  and  improving  his  vir- 
tues ?  Can  that  man  truly  love  me,  can  he  leei  to\\ard 
me  like  a  generous,  conlidential  friend,  who  leaves  mc 
unwarned,  unguarded,  unassisted,  when  he  sees  de- 
fects and  improprieties  in  me,  Avhich  I  overlook  in  my- 
self, and  which,  if  uncorrected,  will  injure  my  comfort 
and  imnrovement,  mv  rerm^a^ion  a^d  UFcfnb^.ess  ?  No» 
It  is  the  nature  of  love  to  cover  a  multitude  of  sins ; 


Ser.  n.l  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF,  ^ 

and  one  instance  of  this  is  to  cover  them  from  the  eyes 
of  others,  by  faithfully  discoverin,^  them  to  the  offender 
himself,  and  iJiereby  engaging  him  to  watch  over  and 
supr>ress  them." 

Let  me  then  earnestly  recommend  this  expression  of 
trie  friendship  to  all,  who  are  united  by  its  endearing 
and  sacred  bonds ;  to  those,  who  are  intimately  con- 
nected by  nature,  by  agreeable  neighbourhood,  by  fa- 
miliar association,  especially  by  those  domestic  ties, 
which  render  two  persons  in  an  eminent  sense  one. 
What  singular  advantages  and  proportionate  obliga- 
tions are  these  under,  particularly  the  last,  to  correct 
each  other's  failings  in  the  most  insinuating  and  effica- 
cious manner,  and  thus  to  guard  and  improve  each  other 
in  virtue,  in  mutual  Christian  affection,  and  happiness ! 

But  here  an  important  question  arises.  How  ought 
this  delicate  task  of  administering  reproof  to  be  per- 
formed, so  as  most  effectually  to  reach  the  end?  I 
answer. 

First.  Let  the  reproof,  if  possible,  be  given  in  se- 
cret ;  for  the  design  of  it  is,  not  to  disgrace,  but  reibi-m 
the  offender.  But  the  publication  of  his  miscarriage 
tends  only  to  exasperate  and  hai'den  him  in  ti-ansgi-es- 
sion.  Yet  such  is  the  malignity,  the  imprudence,  or 
the  love  of  telling  and  hearing  some  new  thing,  which 
generally  prevails,  that  a  person  who  has  committed  a 
fault,  instead  of  being  admonished  and  recalled  to  vir- 
tue by  the  private  and  tender  voice  of  friendship,  too 
commonly  finds  himself,  in  the  first  instance,  the  victim 
of  public  reproach.  But  is  this  consistent  with  the  law 
of  Christian  prudence  and  love,  or  even  of  common  hu- 
manity ?  Has  not  our  beievolent  Master  prescribed  a 
very  different  line  of  conduct ?  His  he  not  expressly 
directed  us,  "  If  thy  brother  has  offended  thee,  go  and 


26  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  [Ser.  IT. 

tell  him  his  fault  between  thee  and  him  alone?'*  If  this 
step  succeed,  tlie  brother  is  gained,  and  his  offence  is 
to  be  forever  buried.  If  this  secret  application  fail, 
then  "take  with  thee  two  or  thi-ee  witnesses." 

How  amiable  is  this  process  !  It  savours  equally  of 
tenderness  to  our  brother's  reputation  and  comfort  in 
this  world,  and  to  his  eternal  salvation  in  the  next. 
Accordingly,  even  the  popish  religion,  which  enjoins 
confession  of  sins  to  the  priest,  inflicts  the  severest  pen- 
alty on  him,  if  he  divulge  any  thing,  revealed  to  him  in 
such  confession.  When  will  the  protestant  -v^orld  learn 
from  despised  papists  to  practise  equal  prudence  and 
charity ! 

Secondly.  Let  the  style  and  manner  of  our  reproofs 
be  suited  to  the  rank  and  condition  of  the  reproved.  If 
an  inferior  be  called  to  reprove  a  superior,  let  him  man- 
ifest the  same  deference  and  submission  on  this  occa- 
sion, as  in  the  most  direct  and  solemn  expressions  of 
rcsoect.  Even  truth,  unseasonably  or  disrespectfully 
delivered,  especially  in  cases  of  rebuke,  usually  irri- 
tates, instead  of  curing,  m.en's  vicious  passions.  It 
leads  them  to  hate  truth  and  virtue,  on  account  of  the 
forbidding  garb,  in  which  they  appear.  In  this  case 
the  reprover  is  really  a  partaker  in  the  sin  of  the  of- 
fciidcr  ;  because  he  directly  confirms  him  in  it.  With 
what  modesty  and  delicacy  did  Daniel  repro\e  king 
Belshazzar,  a  most  insolent,  debauched,  and  sacri- 
legious prince,  who  had  just  profaned  the  sacred  ves- 
sels of  God's  sanctuary  at  a  licentious  feast ;  yet  instead 
of  reproaching  him  in  rough  and  bitter  language,  he 
calmly  recounts  to  him  the  signal  mercies  and  judg- 
ments of  Heaven  upon  his  father  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 
then  gently  adds,  "  And  thou,  his  son,  hast  not  hum- 
bled thine  heart,  though  thou  knewest  all  tliis."     Such 


Ser.  11:1  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  §^ 

a  discreet  and  respectful  manner  recommended  both  his 
person  and  his  admonition.  Let  all  reprovers,  both 
public  and  private,  imitate  this  lovely  example.  Let 
them  seek,  by  a  prudent  and  respectful  mode  of  ad- 
dress, to  insinuate  needful  reproof  into  the  affections 
of  men,  and  thus  to  give  it  desirable  success  ;  which 
brings  me  to  add, 

Thirdly,     Rebuke  must  be  dispensed  in  a  meek  and 
compassionate  manner.     Nothing  can  be  more  unbe- 
coming and  cruel,  than  haughty,   sarcastic,  or  insulting 
treatment  of  a  guilty  brother,  which  seems  to  triumph 
in  his   pain  and  confusion.     The  spirit   of  Christian 
charity  forbids  all  scun-ilous  reflections  on  the  person 
reproved,  and  every  needless  aggravation  of  his  offence. 
It  requires  us  to  probe  his  wound  with  the  hand  of  ten- 
der pity,  as  those  who  participate  in  the  distress,  which 
duty  and  love  compel  us  to  inflict,  and  who  wish  to  ex- 
cite no  more  anguish,  than  the  real  necessity  and  bene- 
fit of  the  patient  demand.     We  have  an  excellent  mod- 
el of  this  compassionate  manner  of  reproving  in  the 
prophet  Nathan,  when  sent  to  admonish  David  of  his 
shocking  guilt  in  the  affair  of  Uriah.      Instead  of  di- 
rectly painting,   in  strong  and  aggravated  colours,  the 
crimes  of  adultery  and  murder,  he  imperceptibly  steals 
into  David's  conscience  and  heart,  by  the  nicest  arts  of 
gentle  address.     By  reciting  a  most  apposite  and  mov- 
ing parable  he  leads  the  guilty  monarch  insensibly  to 
pronounce    his    own    condemnation.       Having    thus 
brought  him  to  confess  his  sin,  he  adds  not  one  severe 
word  to  heighten  his  afiliction,  but  hastens  to  comfort 
him  u'ith  an  assurance  of  divine  forgiveness,  seconded, 
however,  by  a  kind  but  faithful  warning ;   "  The  Lord 
has  put  away  thy  sin,  thou  shalt  not  die,-^ — Howbeit,  as 
by  this  deed  thou  hast  given  great  occasion  to  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Lord  to  blaspheme,"  th}'  infant  son,  the 


2a  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  (Ser.II, 

offspring  of  thy  crime,  "  shall  surely  die."     How  ten- 
der^ yet  how  elfectuial,  was  this  manner  of  dealing  ! 

This  compassionate  style  of  reproof  is  ever  connect- 
ed with  a  humbling  sense  of  our  own  guilt  and  remain- 
ing depravity,  and  a  thankful  acknowledgment  of  that 
divine  grace,  which  has  preserved  us  from  the  same  or 
even  greater  vices,  than  those,  wnich  we  reprove  in  oth^ 
ers.  This  humility  and  pious  gratitude  will  prevent  us 
from  looking  down  upon  offenders,,  as  the  proud  Phari- 
see did  on  the  poor  Publican,  with  a  boasting,  vain 
glorious  air;  and  will  lead  us  to  adore  the  distinguish- 
ing mercy  of  God  in  keeping,  or  delivering  us  from 
those  temptations,  by  which  others  have  fallen. 

Fourthly.  Reproof  must  not  be  continued  or  re- 
peated, after  the  occasion  is  removed  by  the  reforma- 
tion of  the  offender.  When  our  guilty  brother  repents, 
he  ought  to  be  forgiven ;  and,  if  we  forgive  a  crime, 
we  ought  to  forget  it ;  that  is,  to  feel  and  beliave,  as  if 
we  had  forgotten  it,  in  a  friendly  and  respectful  manv- 
ner,  as  we  treat  those,  who  have  never  offended  us. 

If  those,  who  call  themselves  Christians,  would  dil- 
igently dischai-ge  the  duty  before  us,  in  the  manner 
now  recommended,  they  would  evidence  and  promote 
their  brotherly  love  to  the  best  advantage.  Their  ad- 
pionitions,  for  .the  most  part,  would  be  kindly  receiv- 
ed, and  would  frequendy,  by  the  divine  blessing,  pro- 
duce the  desired  effect.  Such  faithful  reprovers  would, 
at  least,  preserve  their  own  souls  from  sharing  the  guilt 
and  ruin  of  their  offending  bretliren  ;  and  would  pos- 
sess unspeakable  comfort  and  benefit  in  the  present  ap- 
probation and  improvement  of  their  own  minds,  and  in 
tlie  final  applause  and  recompense  of  their  Judge. 

Let  these  considerations  prevail  on  you,  my  breth- 
ren, to  comply  in  good  eai-nest  with  the  precept  of 
the  text.     Remember  that  it  forbids  you,  on  any  prcr 


S^R.II.l  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  2^ 

tence,  or  for  any  reason  whatever,  to  omit  this  humane 
and  benevolent  office.  Be  entreated  then  to  banish 
tiie  excuses,  and  to  remove  the  causes,  which  obstruct 
or  mar  your  performance  of  this  duty. 

Some  of  you  are  perhaps  deterred  from  reproving 
others,  by  a  consciousness  that  you  are  equally  guilty 
yourselves.  You  cannot  with  any  spirit  or  confidence 
press  those  duties  upon  your  neighbours,  or  even  your 
own  ciiildren,  which  you  yourselves  secretly  or  openly 
neglect.  You  cannot  rebuke  them  for  sin,  when  you 
commit  the  same,  or  equal  transgressions.  You  have 
not  courage,  by  atternpting  to  reform  them,  to  expose 
yourselves  to  that  cutting  retort,  "  Physician,  heal  thy- 
self." Those  parents,  rulers,  or  masters,  those  Chris- 
tian professors  and  teachers,  may  well  be  afraid  and 
ashamed  to  reprove  and  exhort  others,  who  are  not  re- 
ligiously careful  of  their  own  temper  and  conduct ;  for 
the  admonitions  of  such  can  have  little  authority,  ac- 
ceptance, or  utility.  All  of  us,  therefore,  especially 
those,  who  are  appointed  to  watch  over  others,  have  a 
double  motive  to  attend  to  ourselves,  since  without  this 
attention  we  can  neither  save  ourselves,  nor  usefully 
perform  our  duty  to  mankind,  but  directly  contribute 
to  the  destruction  of  both.  Let  our  charity,  then,  be- 
gin at  home,  in  the  thorough  conversion  and  genuine 
integrity  of  our  own  hearts  and  lives.  Then,  our  expe- 
rience and  example  will  give  energy  to  our  endeavours 
for  the  reformation  of  others. 

Again,  some  of  you  are  probably  hindered  from  the 
performance  of  this  duty  by  a  desire  of  pleasing,  and  a 
fear  of  offending  men.  But  though  the  favour  of  those 
around  us  be  a  desirable  good,  both  in  itself  and  its  ef- 
fects, and  the  contrary  be  an  equal  evil ;  yet  it  is  cer- 
tainly our  duty  and  interest  to  please  God,  rather  than 
men.     To  please  men  for  their  good  to  edification  is 


30        '        ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  iSznAt 

true  Christian  benevolence  ;  but  to  please  them  to  their 
destruction  is  base  and  savage  cruelty. 

Another  hindrance  to  this  duty  is  an  excessive  con- 
stitutional tenderness,  which  will  not  suffer  us  to  give 
pain  to  a  fellow  creature,  even  on  the  most  urgent  oc- 
casions. Thus  the  tender  feelings  of  some  parents 
will  not  permit  them  to  curb  the  extravagant  humours 
and  passions  of  their  children,  or  to  administer  the 
most  needful  correction,  or  even  reproof.  The  same 
principle  withholds  many  neighbours  and  friends  from 
bearing  proper  testimony  against  the  follies  and  vices 
of  each  other.  But  a  tenderness,  which  thus  restrains 
persons  from  a  necessary  duty,  instead  of  being  an 
amiable  and  useful  virtue,  degenerates  into  a  coward- 
ly and  pernicious  vice. 

Another  great  hindrance  to  this  duty  is  shame,  or  a 
dread  of  reproach  and  ridicule.  But  if  the  servants  of 
Satan  are  not  ashamed  of  dieir  master,  shall  the  disci- 
ples of  Christ  blush  to  stand  up  for  theirs  ?  If  the 
former  are  not  ashamed  to  sv/ear,  to  riot,  to  trample  up- 
on the  Sabbath  and  worship  of  God ;  shall  the  latter  be 
ashamed  to  reprove  such  daring  abominations  ?  If  in- 
fidels and  libertines  proclaim  their  wicked  and  destruc- 
tive principles  and  practices  with  an  unblushing,  and 
even  exulting  countenance ;  shall  not  serious  Chris- 
tian believers  be  at  least  equally  bold  in  testifying 
against  these  evils,  and  endeavouring  to  reform  them  ? 
Does  it  not  become  them  to  manifest  a  noble  superi- 
ority to  the  jeers  and  mockings,  which  a  faithful  dis- 
charge of  their  duty  may  draw  upon  them  from  igno- 
rant or  abandoned  men  ?  In  short,  let  us  all  remember, 
that  there  is  no  dishonour  in  being  censured  or  ridi- 
culed, but  in  deserving  to  be  so  ;  that  it  is  a  real  glory 
to  be  reproached  for  our  distinguished  Christian  cou- 
rage and  zeal ;  but  that,  "if  we  are  ashamed  of  Christ 


Ser.  II.)  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  31 

and  his  words  before  an  adulterous  generation,  he  will 
!)e  ashamed  of  us  before  his  Father,  and  before  his 
angels." 

Another  impediment  to  this  duty  is  an  indolent  dis- 
position, or  such  a  love  of  personal  ease  and  quiet,  as 
cannot  relish  or  endure  laborious  and  persevering  ef- 
forts for  the  reformation  and  salvation  of  others ;  es- 
pecially as  those  efforts  often  provoke  the  most  un- 
tliankful  and  malevolent  returns.  But  to  excuse  oiu-- 
selves  from  this  generous,  though  self-denying  office, 
on  this  ground,  betrays  a  vile  preference  of  present  self- 
indulgence  to  the  will  and  honour  of  God,  and  the  high- 
est good  of  our  fellow-creatures. 

Near  akin  to  this  is  that  exclusive  devotion  to  our 
own  interest,  which  shuts  out  all  feeling  or  care  for  the 
welfaie  of  others,  and  prompts  us  to  ask  with  wicked 
and  murderous  Cain,  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?" 
Let  my  neighbour  take  care  of  himself.  But  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  reply,  We  are  all  charged  by  God,  by  nature, 
and  Christianity,  with  the  care  of  our  brother  as  well, 
as  of  ourselves  ;  and  consequently  we  cannot  neglect 
his  welfare,  without  endangering  and  finally  destroying 
our  own. 

Pride  is  also  a  frequent  source  of  this  neglect.  I 
mean  that  pride,  which  disdains  the  humble  office  of 
familiarly  instructing,  exhorting,  and  reproving  the 
poor,  ignorant,  and  baser  classes  of  mankind.  But 
such  haughty,  pretended  Christians  forget  how  low 
their  Master  stooped  for  them  ;  how  he  descended  from 
the  bosom  and  throne  of  God  to  mingle  and  converse 
with  the  dregs  of  mankind,  with  a  view  to  reform  and 
save  them. 

Ignorance  is  another  cause  of  this  neglect.  Some 
are  ignorant,  that  the  business  of  mutual  reproof  is  a 
common  Christian  duty,  or  at  least  is  their  duty  ;    es- 


32  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  [Ser.  U. 

pecially  as  they  are  conscious  of  such  weakness  of 
judgment  and  knowledge,  or  such  want  of  eloquence, 
as  in  their  view  unfits  them  for  this  office.  But  every 
man,  however  weak  and  unlearned,  has  some  influence 
over  others,  especially  over  his  equals  and  inferiors. 
He  may,  at  least,  admonish  and  rebuke  them  by  the 
eloquence  of  his  looks  and  example,  which  in  many 
cases  would  have  a  salutary  and  lasting  effect. 

"  This  duty  is  likewise  often  obstructed  by  a  spirit  of 
discouragement  and  despondency,  which  tempts  even 
good  people  to  give  over  admonishing  stupid  and  ob- 
stinate sinners,  and  no  longer  to  cast  pearls  before 
swine.  But  we  ought  to  remember,  that  so  long,  as 
there  is  life,  there  is  some  ground  of  hope ;  that  so 
long,  as  sinners  will  hear,  we  have  some  encourage- 
ment to  speak  ;  that  no  person,  however  hardened,  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  divine  power  and  mercy  ;  and  that 
since  God  works  by  suitable  means,  it  is  our  duty  to 
continue  our  exhortations  and  reproofs,  hoping  and 
praying  for  a  divine  blessing  to  attend  them.  "  In  die 
morning  sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  withhold  not 
thy  hand ;"  for  thou  knowest  not  but  this  good  seed  may 
at  length  take  root,  and  spring  up  into  a  plentiful  harvest. 
Finally,  some  neglect  this  duty  from  a  mistaken  idea, 
that  the  office  of  reproving  vice  belongs  exclusively  to 
the  Christian  priesthood.  But  though  public  instruc- 
tion and  admonition  belong  to  Christian  preacb.ers  only, 
yet  it  equally  belongs  to  Christians  at  large  to  co-operate 
with  their  ministers  by  mutual  private  exhortations. 
These  would  greatly  encourage  and  strengthen  }'Our 
public  instructers,  and  would  give  double  advantage 
and  effect  both  to  their  public  and  private  addresses ; 
but  the  neglect  of  this  duty  among  Christian  profes- 
sors depresses  and  disables  ministers  from  prosecuting 
their  work  with  desirable  spirit  and  success.     In  shorts 


Ser,  II.]  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF,  33 

the  negligence,  or  the  faithtul  zeal  of  a  Christian  peo- 
ple and  their  ministers  is  mutually  contagious ;  like  the 
electric  fluid  it  is  quickly  comniunicaied  from  one  to 
the  other. 

Since,  then,  we  find  ourselves  stripped  of  every  plea 
for  omitting  the  duty  bet'ore  us,  what  remains  but  that 
we  awake  to  the  immediate  and  resolute  practice  of  it  ? 
Have  we  not  already,  by  our  sinful  neglect,  been  par- 
takers of  the  guilt,  and  accessary  to  the  ruin  of  others ; 
perhaps  of  our  own  beloved  children  or  dearest  friends  ? 
And  are  there  not  multitudes  around  us  of  open  trans- 
gressors and  scoffing  infidels  as  well,  as  of  cold  or  sleep- 
ing Christians,  whose  situation  demands  the  friendly 
aid  of  our  admonitions  and  prayers  ?  Can  we  have  the 
faith  of  Christians,  if  we  do  not  view  such  persons  in  a 
hazardous  and  very  pitiable  condition  ? 

Can  we  possibly  account  for  the  careless  spirit  of 
many  nominal  believers  at  this  day,  both  with  respect 
to  their  own  moral  conduct  and  state,  and  those  of  oth-» 
crs ;  can  we  account  for  it  on  any  other  principle,  than 
that  of  secret  infidelity  with  regard  to  the  great  truths 
of  revelation  ?  If  men  fully  believe  any  very  interesting 
proposition  or  fact,  it  will  influence  their  feelings  and 
practice.  This  is  universally  seen  in  their  temporal 
affairs.  Accordingly  we  are  told,  that  Noah  was  moved 
by  his  faith  to  prepare  an  ark  for  himself  and  his  house^ 
and  to  warn  a  sinful  and  sleeping  world  of  their  danger. 
Why  did  not  the  world  hearken  to,  and  comply  with 
his  admonitions  ?  Because  they  did  not,  like  him,  be- 
lieve the  divine  threatening.  Agreeably,  multitudes  of 
professed  Christians  at  this  degenerate  period  have  only 
a  traditional,  uncertain,  or  at  best  probable  opinion,  that 
the  Bible  may  be  true  ;  but  have  no  steady  and  thorough 
conviction  of  the  certainty  and  import  of  its  interesting 
doctrines  and  precepts,  tlii'ea,tenings  and  promises.     If 


34  ON  BROTHERLY  REPROOF.  [Ser.  II. 

they  had,  they  would  be  all  sensibility  and  exertion  in 
securing  and  promoting  their  own  best  interests,  and 
those  of  their  families,  neighbours,  and  fellow  creatures 
at  large.  We  have  all,  therefore,  very  great  reason  to 
adopt  that  prayer  of  the  disciples,  *'  Lord,  increase  our 
faith." 

While  we  labour  and  pray  for  a  more  strong  and 
operative  faith,  let  us  with  equal  assiduity  cherish  a  mu- 
tual Christian  benevolence  and  sympathy.  I  mean  that 
benevolence,  which  deeply  feels,  and  strives  to  remove 
the  moral  as  well,  as  physical  evils,  m  hich  have  invaded 
our  country  or  vicinity  ;  that  benevolence,  which  princi- 
pally laments,  and  seeks  to  extirpate  the  fashionable  in- 
fidelity, irreligion,  and  vices  of  the  age,  and  which  ex- 
erts its  main  efforts  to  produce  a  general  revival  of 
Christian  piety  and  morals.  While  we  glory  in  the  lib- 
eral and  benevolent  character  of  the  present  times,  let 
not  this  hberal  and  beneficent  spirit  be  confined  merely 
to  men's  bodies  and  political  interests ;  as  though  we 
were  a  set  of  beings,  who  were  to  expire  with  the 
beasts,  and  had  never  so  much  as  heard  of  a  future  state. 
Let  not  our  benevolent  candour  be  perverted  into  a  fond 
or  silent  indulgence  of  our  children  and  neighbours  in 
every  pernicious  error,  folly,  or  vice.  But  let  us  re- 
member that  our  text,  and  indeed  the  whole  spirit  of 
our  religion,  stigmatize  this  species  of  candour,  as  a  real 
and  cruel  hatred  of  our  fellow  creatures. 

Let  us  then  shew  our  philanthropy  by  more  Christian 
and  more  substantial  tokens  ;  by  doing  all  in  our  power 
to  bring  those  around  us,  especially  our  own  families  and 
intimate  friends  to  believe,  love,  and  obey  the  gospel. 
In  conformity  to  the  express  and  fi'equent  injunctions  of 
Christianity,  let  us  consider  one  another,  to  provoke  un- 
to love  and  good  works.  Let  us  "  exhort  one  another 
daily,  while  it  is  called  to-day,  lest  any  be  hai'dened  by 
the  deceitfulness  of  sin.'* 


Sermon  iil 
On  secret  Faults  and  presumptuous  Sins, 

Psalm  xix.  12,  13. 

Who  can  imderstand  his  errors  ?  Cleanse  thou  me  from 
secret  faults. 

Keep  back  thy  ser'va?it  also  from  presumptuous  sins.  Let 
them  not  haiie  dominion  over  me.  Then  shall  I  be  up- 
right ;  and  I  shall  be  innocent  from  the  great  transgres- 
sioUy 

HESE  words  present  to  view  a  moral  scale,  or  a 
gradual  ascent  of  iniquity.  The  lowest  degree  of  this 
series  is  error,  or  secret  infirmity  ;  the  next,  presumptU' 
oussin  ;  tlie  highest  is  called  the  great  transgression. 

I  propose  to  define  these  several  grades  of  sin,  espec- 
ially the  two  first ;  and  subjoin  such  remarks,  as  may 
seem  pertinent  and  useful. 

The  ground  of  the  distinction  here  made  between  er- 
ror and  presumption  lies  in  the  constitution  of  our  na- 
tures. There  are  in  the  human  mind  three  prime 
sources  of  action,  the  understanding,  the  will,  and  the  af- 
fections. If  there  were  no  blindness  in  the  first,  na  per- 
versity  in  the  second,  and  no  disturbance  in  the  last,  our 
actions  would  all  be  perfect.  But  alas  !  in  our  present 
state,  these  several  faculties  are  strongly  infected  with 
the  appropriate  disorders  just  named.  Hence  most  of 
our  wrong  exercises  have  a  tincture  of  each.  But  in 
philosophical  strictness,  every  sin  must  be  denominated 
from  its  principal  source.     If  it  chiefly  result  from  a  mis- 

L 


36  ON  SECRET  FAULTS  [Ser.  Itt 

judging  or  uninformed  understanding,  it  is  a  sin  of  ig- 
norance ;  if  it  proceed  from  a  slidden  perturbation  of 
the  passions,  it  is  a  sin  of  infirmity  ;  if  it  flow  from  a 
cool  and  obstinate  determination  of  the  will,  it  is  a  prc- 
siun'ptuous  offence.  I  will  illustrate  each  of  these  by  dn 
eminent  scripture  example. 

Paul's  conduct  in  persecuting  the  church  of  Christ 
proceeded  directly  from  a  misguided  judgment ;  from  a 
full,  though  erroneous,  persuasion,  that  Christianity  was 
a  pernicious  heresy,  fabricated  to  overturn  the  divine  re- 
ligion of  Moses.  His  passions  were  not  violently  iiv 
flamed  against  the  Christians  by  any  personal  provoca- 
tions. His  will  did  not  boldly  defy  his  understanding 
and  conscience.  We  must  therefore  seek  for  the  im- 
mediate cause  of  his  wrong  action  in  mental  errof  ;  and 
accordingly  must  style  his  persecution  a  sin  of  igno- 
rance; Under  this  name  he  himself  condemns  it  :  ''  I 
obtained  mercy,  because  I  did  it  ignorantl}-. " 

Our  next  illustration  shall  be  taken  from  the  fall  of 
Peter.  His  denial  of  his  Master  did  not  arise  from,  want 
of  information.  He  had  intimately  known  and  amply 
confessed  the  diviiie  character  of  Jesus.  He  knew  and 
felt  himself  sacredly  bound  to  own  and  adhere  to  him  in 
every  extremity.  He  had  solemnly  pledged  himself  to 
do  it.  The  plea  of  ignorance  therefore  vanishes.  Yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  his  fault  was  not  strictly  a  presumpta- 
ous  sin  ;  because  it  was  not  done  with  deliberate  design 
or  previous  malice.  He  came  to  the  fatal  spot  with  a 
contrary  intentiori.  His  heart  loved  and  honoured  his 
Master,  even  while  his  tongue  abjured  him  ;  and  no 
sooner  did  the  signal,  foretold  by  his  Lord,  arrest  his 
ear,  than  it  roused  the  deepest  penitential  sorrow  in  his 
bosom.  These  circumstances  remove  from  his  oflfence 
every  suspicion  of  obstinate  resolution,  and  oblige  us  to 
resQit  to  his  passions  for  the  true  spring  of  his  miscon- 


Ser.  III.]  AND  PRESUMPTUOUS  SINS.  57 

duct.  A  sudden  emotion  of  fear  prevented  the  exercise 
both  of  his  reason  and  virtue,  and  carried  his  whole  soul 
to  one  point,  namely,  how  to  a^^oid  the  present  danger. 
His  denial  was  therefore  a  sin  of  infirmity. 

But  the  conduct  of  David  in  the  affair  of  Uriah  widely 
differed  from  both  the  cases  just  cited.  It  \vas  th^  v\il- 
fui  murder  of  an  innocent,  brave,  and  faithful  subject ; 
a  murder  leisurely  predetermined,  artfully  contrived  and 
covered,  ajid  ^eiy  basely  accomplished ;  and  all  this  by 
a  person  of  superior  knowledge  and  sensibility  with  re- 
spect to  right  and  wrong,  to  duty  and  sin.  This  action 
therefore  has  no  plea  either  of  mistake  or  surprise.  It 
was  a  high  instance  of  presumptuous  "wickedness. 

These  examples  compared  suggest  the  following  ob- 
servations. 

I.  That  no  ignorance  or  mistake  respecting  plain  and 
essential  things  can  wholly  excuse  an  erroneous  con- 
duct ;  because  such  ignorance  is  in  some  degree  volun- 
tary, or  the  fruit  of  human  depravity.  It  arises,  not 
from  a  total  want  of  the  requisite  means  of  information, 
but  from  faulty  inattention  and  prejudice ;  or  from  a 
heart,  wiiich  loves  the  darkness  of  error  and  vice  rather, 
than  the  pure  light  of  truth  and  virtue.  A  misguided 
judgment,  produced  b}'-  such  causes,  imiplies  crime  ;  and 
therefore  cannot  justify  the  actions,  to  which  it  leads. 
Agreeably,  Paul,  after  his  conversion,  condemns  that 
very  conduct,  •which  before  he  verily  thought  to  be 
right.  This  self-condemnation  was  founded  in  a  con- 
viction, that  his  fornner  mistake  arose,  in  a  great  measure, 
from  unreasonable  prejudice,  from  a  voluntary  neglect 
of  those  means  of  knowledge,  which  had  been  placed 
before  him.  The  same  remark  still  more  emphatically 
applies  to  the  Jewish  rulers  and  people,  who  condemned 
and  crucified  our  Saviour.  At  the  time  of  committing 
these  enormities,  they  appear  to  have  viewed  him  as 


58         ON  SECRET  FAULTS       [Ser.  III. 

an  impostor  and  blasphemer,  who  ought  to  be  executed. 
Yet  no  one  doubts  their  heinous  guilt  in  this  proceeds 
ing.  The  reason  is  obvious.  Their  malignant  deprav- 
ity blinded  their  understandings.  It  made  them  resist 
the  abundant  evidence,  which  Jesus  had  given,  of  his  di- 
vine mission. 

These  remarks  place  in  their  true  light  the  first  class 
of  sins  above  described.  They  show,  that  ignorance 
and  mistake,  unless  they  be  invincible,  or  absolutely  un^ 
avoidable,  will  never  exculpate  a  forbidden  action. 
They  consequently  enforce  the  duty  of  confessing,  with 
the  Psalmist,  those  numerous  errors^  or  secret  faults,  in- 
to \^  hich  even  good  men  are  often  betrayed  by  inconsid- 
eration,  or  remaining  corruption.     At  the  same  time, 

II.  Though  ignorance  may  not  justify,  yet  it  fre- 
quently extenuates  transgression.  A  person,  who  com- 
mits an  oifence,  without  knowing  or  considering  at  the 
time  its  evil  nature  and  tendency,  is  certainly  in  that  in- 
stance a  less  daring  and  aggravated  offender,  than  he, 
who  perform.s  the  same  act  in  defiance  of  present  knowl- 
edge and  conviction.  Agreeably,  our  Saviour  tells  us, 
that  he,  who  disobeys  his  Lord's  will,  while  he  does  not 
fully  know  it,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes ;  while  he, 
who  knows  it,  and  yet  does  not  prepare  himself  to  do  it. 
shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes.  He  also  made  this 
plea  for  his  very  murderers  ;  "  Father,  forgive  them; 
for  they  know  not  what  the}^  do."  This  plea  however 
will  be  of  little  service  to  those,  Mho  resolutely  wrap  up 
their  minds  in  ignorance  or  delusion,  on  purpose,  that 
they  may  sin  with  greater  freedoni  and  boldness.  Such 
wilful  and  studied  delusion  is  itself  a  presumptuous  sin. 
This  leads  us  to  observe, 

III.  That  many  things,  \\  hich  our  self- flattering  minds 
are  ready  to  pronounce  infirmities,  or  undesigned  er. 
rors,  belong  to  a  higher  species  of  guilt.     If  a  man,  un- 


Ser.  III.]  AND  PRESUMPTUOUS  SINS.  39 

der  sudden  and  violent  provocation,  conceives  an  an- 
gry thought  or  revengeful  desire ;  if  he  utters  his  hasty- 
feelings  in  unguarded  expressions ;  such  thought,  de- 
sire, and  language,  if  soon  checked,  may  be  denominat- 
ed infirmities.  But,  if  a  man  frequently  indulges  such 
passionate  emotions  and  words,  or  some  other  folly, 
which  easily  besets  him,  under  an  idea,  that  they  are 
small  inadvertences ;  if  he  often  rushes  into  those  com- 
panies, or  situations,  which  tend  to  excite  and  confirm 
these  irregularities  ;  if,  after  committing  them,  he  studi- 
ously lessens,  excuses,  or  hides  their  deformity  by 
ascribing  them  to  some  laudable  motive,  to  some  inno- 
cent weakness,  or  to  the  sudden  influence  of  passion,  of 
company,  or  of  example;  in  each  of  these  cases  he 
makes  himself  a  presumptuous  offender ;  he  cherishes 
a  fault,  which  he  ought  to  combat ;  he  shows  a  perverse 
fondness  for  transgression ;  he  commits  and  persists  in 
it  from  a  stupid  insensibility  to  the  evil  of  sin.  A  small 
error,  wilfully  retained  and  fostered,  implies  and  pro- 
duces  great  guilt  and  depravity. 

This  suggests  another  frequent  mistake  on  this  sub- 
ject. Some  place  in  the  list  of  infirmities  all  those  sins, 
which  do  not  break  out  into  overt  acts,  and  even  into 
gross  and  daring  offences.  But  both  Scripture  and 
reason  assure  us,  that  the  heart  is  the  prime  subject  and 
fountain  of  moral  gobd  and  evil ;  and,  of  course,  that 
the  secret  affections  and  exercises  of  this  constitute  the 
main  part  both  of  human  virtue  and  vice.  It  follows, 
that  a  person  may  be  a  vile  and  presumptuous  sinner, 
while  his  visible  actions  are  decent  and  regular.  Agree- 
ably, we  are  told  in  the  sacred  writings,  that  a  manjuay 
commit  adultery,  and  even  murder,  in  his  heart.  We 
are  likewise  told,  that  the  carnal  mind,  or  a  heart,  which 
is  supremely  set  on  cai-nal  things,  is  enmity  agn^inst 
God.     In  short,  the  Bible,  and  indeed  the  nature  01  the 


40  ON  SECRET  FAULTS  [Ser.  IIL 

thing  declares,  that  evil  thoughts  and  desires,  \\'hen  wil- 
fully cherished  in  the  breast,  are  not  only  presumptu- 
ous sins,  but  the  fruitful  source  of  every  other  trans- 
gi-ession. 

It  is  also  a  dangerous  mistake  to  suppose,  that  every 
sin,  committed  by  a  true  believer,  or  a  person  endued 
with  a  gracious  principle,  is  a  mere  infirmity.  This 
conclusion  has  been  drawn  by  some  from  these  wordis 
of  St.  John,  "  He,  that  is  born  of  God,  cannot  commit 
sin."  "  That  is,"  say  these  Expositors,  "  he  cannot, 
like  other  men,  sin  in  a  cordial  and  deliberate  manner  ; 
consequently  his  worst  deviations  are  inconsiderable 
frailties."  We  grant,  that  sin  is  not  his  chosen  and 
leading  employment.  Yet  there  are  seasons,  when  the 
remains  of  corrupt  disposition  bear  down  the  opposite 
principle,  and  generate  inward  feelings  and  overt  actions, 
directly  repugnant  to  his  general  character.  Is  it  safe 
to  assert,  that  these  corrupt  exercises  are  less  aggravated 
in  a  child  of  God,  than  in  a  servant  of  sin?  On  the  con- 
trary, does  not  the  former  sin  against  far  greater  privi- 
leges and  motives,  than  the  latter  ?  Is  not  the  unworthy 
conduct  of  a  son  and  a  favourite  far  more  ungrafeful  and 
monstrous,  tlian  the  same  deportment  in  a  servant,  or 
an  avowed  enemy  ?  Was  not  the  guilt  of  David  in  the 
affair  of  Uriah  unspeakably  enhanced  by  his  religious 
profession  and  attainments  ?  Let  no  one  therefore 
imagine,  that  the  guilt  or  the  danger  of  his  transgressions 
is  small,  because  he  is  confident  of  a  Christian  standing, 
Rather  let  this  \cry  persuasion  increase  his  vigilance. 
]Let  it  incite  him  to  pray  more  earnestly,  with  pious  Da- 
vid in  the  text,  "  Keep  back  thy  servant  from  pre- 
sumptuous sins." 

IV.  This  leads  \is  to  specify  some  of  the  most  re- 
markable kinds  of  presumptuous  sin.  I  do  this  with  a 
view  to  place  this  a^vf^l  subject  in  the  most  convincing 


Ser.  Ill]  AN][>  PRESUMPTUOUS  SINS.  41 

and  searching  light ;  and  to  point  our  best  efforts  against 
such  a  high  species  of  guilt,  in  whatever  shape  it  may  of- 
fer itself. 

One  form,  in  which  this  sin  appears,  is  a  violent  op- 
position to  the  clear  light  and  warnings  of  conscience* 
When  the  sinner's  depraved  inclinations,  instead  of  be- 
ing subdued,  are  roused  to  gieater  energy  by  the  kind 
interference  of  this  heavenly  monitor ;  when  he  bursts 
through  the  strong  barriers,  which  a  full  conviction  of 
truth  and  duty,  of  guilt  and  danger,  oppose  to  his  pro- 
gress ;  this  is  to  transgress  in  a  manner  the  most  daring, 
tingrateful,  and  desperate.  Those,  who  thus  act,  are 
said  to  resist  and  to  quench  the  Spirit  of  God.  Those 
likewise  sin  presumptuously,  who  boldly  cast  off  the  re-« 
Hgious  principles,  impressions,  and  resolutions  of  their 
early  years  ;  who  not  only  renounce,  but  openly  deride 
those  doctrines  and  duties,  which  they  once  regarded 
with  reverence  and  delight.  It  requires  no  ordinary 
degree  of  presumption  and  outrage  to  stifle  sentiments 
and  feelings  so  natural  and  rational,  so  early  and  deeply 
impressed,  and  which  have  been  found  so  comforting 
and  salutoiy.  Accordingly  those,  who  make  and  suc- 
ceed in  this  effort,  justly  acquire  the  reputation  of 
gigantic  sinners.  Those  also  merit  the  same  character, 
who  relapse  into  those  very  sins,  for  which  they  have 
been  severely  chastized,  and  which  they  once  bitterly 
lamented  and  solemnly  abjured.  It  deserves  remark^ 
that  neither  David  nor  Peter  ever  renewed  those  foul 
crimes,  of  which  they  once  repented.  On  the  contrary, 
they  e\ er  regaided  them,  with  peculiar  detestation  and 
horror.  The  remembrance  of  them  was  a  constant 
incentive  to  a  humble,  watchful,  and  exemplary  life. 
But  those,  who  return  to  the  vices,  which  they  once  re- 
nounced with  deep  sorrow  and  shame,  sin  against  nature 
as  well,  as  grace;    for  nature  teaches  even  the  inferior 


42  ON  SECRET  FAULTS  [Ser.  Ill, 

animals  to  shun  those  things,  which  they  have  found  to 
be  hurtful. 

Near  akin  to  this  is  the  presumption  of  those,  who 
harden  themselves  against  the  mercies  or  the  judgments 
of  the  Most  High;  who  abuse  their  health  and  compe- 
tence, their  wealth  or  power,  as  engines  of  luxury, 
oppression,  or  impiety  ;  who  continue  unreformed,  af- 
ter, and  perhaps  under  the  scourges  of  personal,  domes- 
tic, or  national  calamity  ;  who  resolutely  oppose  the 
united  admonitions  of  God's  word  and  providence. 

Finally,  to  the  class  of  wilful  and  obstinate  offenders 
we  must  refer  ail  those,  v/ho  refuse  to  believe  and  obey 
tlie  gospel,  while  favoured  with  clear  and  abundant  evi- 
dence of  its  truth  and  importance. 

This  particular  view  of  presumtuous  sins  suggests 
to  us, 

V.  The  reasons,  why  the  Psalmist  was  so  earnest  to 
be  restrained  from  committing  them.  The  reasons  may 
be  summed  up  in  one  idea,  namely,  the  peculiar  ma- 
lignity of  such  transgressions.  They  flow  from  cool 
and  stubborn  depravity.  They  blaspheme  the  essential 
attributes  of  God,  by  practically  sa}'ing,  either  that  he 
has  not  knowledge,  power,  and  justice  sufficient  to  pun- 
ish them,  or  that  his  mercy  is  so  easy  and  so  undis- 
tinguishing  a  quality,  as  to  pardon  the  most  unrelenting 
and  daring  wickedness,  or,  at  least,  to  accept  the  cheap- 
est and  latest  repentance.  They  are  likewise  very 
pernicious  in  their  effects.  They  destroy  the  light,  the 
energy,  and  the  delicate  feelings  of  conscience.  They 
bring  a  natural  and  judicial  hardness  upon  the  heart. 
They  consign  the  soul  to  the  absolute  empire  of  sin. 
'i'hey  bring  it  to  the  precipice  of  total  apostasy  and 
ruin.  Hence  David  prays  to  be  kept  back  from  v.'ilful 
sin,  that  so  he  might  be  innocent  from  tlie  gi'eat  trans- 


Ser.  hi,]      and  presumptuous  sins,  43 

gi'ession,  that  is,  from  final  impenitence,  which  cannot 
be  forgiven. 

In  the  review  of  this  subject,  what  reason  have  the 
best  of  us  to  exclaim,  in  the  language  of  David,  Who 
can  understand  his  errors  ?  Who  can  conceive,  how  of- 
ten and  how  greatly  he  has  departed  from  the  perfect 
standai'd  of  duty  ?    Who  can  reckon  up  the  improper 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  his  mind,  the  unguarded  sallies 
of  his  tongue,  and  the  faulty  actions  of  his  life  ?  Who 
can  enumerate  his  neglected  opportunities  of  doing  or 
receiving  good,  of  resisting  or  preventing  evil  ?  Who 
can  form  an  accurate  and  complete  list  of  the  vicious 
mistakes  of  his  judgment,  of  the  irregular  motions  of 
his  passions,  of  the  wrong  incUnations  and  purposes  of 
his  will  ?    Who  can  fully  state  every  circumstance  of 
aggravation,    which   has   marked  each   guilty   defect, 
omission,  or  act  of  his  life  ?  Surely,  my  brethren,  if  we 
have  any  knowledge  of  ourselves,  of  the  divine  law,  of 
the  infinite  purity  and  majesty  of  God,  we  shall  readily 
adopt  that  humble  address,    "  If  thou.  Lord,  shouldst 
mark  iniquities,  O  Lord,  who  shall  stand?" 

Hence  let  us  all  unite  in  the  prayer  of  the  text,  that 
God  would  cleanse  us  from  secret  faults,  and  keep  us 
back  from  deliberate  transgression.  Humble  and  fer- 
vent prayer  against  sin  is  a  natural  preservative  from  it ; 
as  it  tends  to  give  us  a. solemn  and  habitual  sense  of  the 
presence  and  holiness  of  God,  of  the  evil  and  danger  of 
offending  him,  and  of  the  vile  hypocrisy  of  practically 
contradicting  our  own  petitions.  As  prayer  is  the  ap- 
pointed medium  of  obtaining  succour  from  Heaven  ;  so 
it  solemnly  binds  and  urges  us  to  employ  our  own  dili- 
gence in  mortifying  sin,  in  opposing  temptation,  and  in 
practising  universal  holiness.  Thus  sincere  petitions 
call  forth  corresponding  exertion.     Let  us  then  unite 

M 


44  ON  SECRET  FAULTS.  [Ser.  III. 

holy  activity  with  humble  dependence  on  God.  If  wc 
would  be  kept  back  from  sins  of  presumption  and  from 
the  great  transgression,  let  us  maintain  a  constant  rev- 
erence for  the  authority  of  conscience ;  let  us  daily  and 
impartially  inquire  into  the  state  of  our  hearts ;,  let  us 
dread  and  promptly  subdue  the  first  risings  of  sinful 
thought  and  affection  ;  let  us  plant  our  strongest  guard, 
against  favourite  corruptions  ;  let  us  avoid  the  most  dis- 
tant approaches,  occasions,  and  appearances  of  evil'; 
let  us  stop  our  ears,  like  the  deaf  adder,  against  the  en- 
chanting voice  of  temptation  ;  let  us  shun,  as  we  would 
a  mortal  pestilence,,  the  society  and  conversation  of  un- 
godly seducers ;  let  us  say  w  ith  a  holy  fii'mness,  "  De- 
part from  me,  ye  evil  doers  ;  for  I  will  keep  the  com- 
mandments of  my  God.  Above  all,  let  us  see,  that 
the  fountain  of  moral  exercises  within  us  be  purified 
by  heavenly  grace  ;  that  our  souls  be  clad  with  the 
spiritual  armour  of  truth  and  righteousness,  of  gospel 
faith  and  hope.  Then  shall  we  be  able  to  stand  in  the 
evil  day ;  yea,  we  shall  prove  more  than  conquerors 
through  him,  that  loved  us. 


@)ermon  iv. 


On  the  Love  of  God 


Mark  xii.  3Q. 
'Thou  shcdt  loiic  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  hearty  and 
with  all  thy  souly  andivith  all  thy  mind,  andimth  all  thy 
strength :  this  is  the  first  and  great  commandment. 


A'. 


.S  all  religion  is  founded  in  die  existence,  perfec- 
tions, anc^.  providence  of  one  Supreme  Being,  the  Crea- 
tor and  Governor  of  the  world ;  so  this  infinite  Being 
must  be  tlie  prime  and  terminating  object  of  religion  ; 
and  a  supr-eme  regard  to  him  must  be  the  first  duty,  the 
crovviiing  virtue  of  rational  creatures.  Agreeably, 
xvhen  our  Sa\iQar  was  asked  by  a  Jewish  la^vyer, 
which  is  the  first  commandment  of  all.,  he  replies  in  the 
words  just  read  ;  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
Avith  all  thy,  heart ;....  this  is  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment." 

In  discoursing  on  this  very  noble  and  interesting  sub- 
ject, we  will  endeavour  to  illustrate  the  nature,  the 
grounds,  the  measure,  and  the  superior  importance  of 
love  to  God. 

With  regard  to  the  nature  of  the  affection  here  en- 
joined, it  must  l^e  understood  to  comprehend  all  those 
inward  regards  to  the  Deity,  which  his  perfections,  re- 
lations, and  benefits  demand.  In  other  words,  it  in- 
cludes the  whole  of  piety,  viewed  in  its  internal  princi- 
ples, or  as  seated  in  the  mind ;  just  as  love  to  our 
neighbour,   required  in   the   second    great  command, 


46  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  IV. 

comprises  the  whole  principle  of  social  virtue.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  first  ingredient  in  love  to  God  is  a  just 
view  and  esteem  of  his  character  ;  for  so  far  as  we  en- 
tertain false  and  dishonourable  ideas  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  our  regards  to  him  will  be  misplaced,  degrad- 
ing, and  idolatrous ;  they  will  really  centre  on  a  wrong 
object,  an  idol  of  our  own  imagination.  It  is  therefore 
highly  important,  that  our  views  of  the  divine  character 
be  founded  in  truth,  that  they  be  derived  from  the  sa- 
cred oracles,  that  they  present  the  Deity  th  our  minds 
in  a  glorious  and  amiable  light,  in  the  full-orbed  lustre 
of  his  natural  and  moral  perfections.  Then,  and  only 
then,  shall  we  perceive  a  beauty,  a  transcendent  dignity 
in  his  nature,  which  will  command  our  rational,  our  su- 
perlative esteem.  We  may  indeed  possess  a  kind  of 
$elfish,  enthusiastic  love  to  God  without  this  scriptural, 
impressive  sight  of  his  inherent  excellence  ;  that  js,  we 
may  love  him  with  the  mercenary  affection  of  publicans 
and  sinners,  from  a  flattering  confidence  of  his  special 
love  and  benefits  to  us,  either  enjoyed  or  expected ;  or 
a  pleasing  idea,  that  he  is  just  such  a  Being,  as  our- 
selves. But  this  is  only  a  reflection  and  refinement  of 
self-love,  and  neither  involves  nor  produces  any  genu- 
ine esteem  of  the  divine  character ;  for  proper  esteem 
of  a  worthy  object  never  grows  out  of  mere  self-love, 
but  is  ever  founded  on  the  apprehended  worth  of  the 
party  esteemed.  Which  leads  us  to  observe,  that  true 
love  to  God  vmites  the  heart  to  his  glory,  and  conse- 
crates all  its  faculties  to  his  service.  The  mind,  in  a  just 
view  and  esteem  of  his  infinite  excellence,  sees  it  to  be 
the  noblest  and  happiest  thing  in  the  world  to  honour 
and  please  him  ;  to  contribute  to  the  display  of  his  glo- 
rious perfections,  and  the  advancement  of  his  moral 
kingdom.  Hence  its  active  powers  and  pursuits  are 
mainly  and  habitually  directed  to  tliis  object ;  insomuch 


ser.iv.]         on  the  love  6r  god.  j^ 

that  the  pious  lover  of  God  eats  and  diinks,  and  does 
e^^ery  thing  to  his  gloiy.  Hence  too,  he  places  his  own 
highest  delight  and  lelicitj-  in  contemplating,  serving, 
and  imitating  his  Maker,  and  enjoying  the  emanations 
and  assurances  of  his  favour.  We  necessarily  delight 
in  those  characters,  to  whom  our  hearts  arc  united  bj 
sincere  esteem  and  affection ;  their  society,  their  friend- 
ship, their  approving  smile,  their  growing  prosperity, 
afford  us  the  highest  enjoyment.  By  contributing  to 
their  pleasure  or  interest  we  essentially  promote  our 
own.  This  happil}^  illustrates  the  inseparable  connex- 
ion between  serving  God  and  enjoying  him,  in  the  un- 
ion of  which  the  compilers  of  a  celebrated  religious  com- 
pend  have  wjsely  placed  the  chief  end  of  man  ;  for  both 
these  ideas  meet  in  one  indivisible  point. 

By  loving  and  glorifying  God  we  immediately  enjoy 
him,  or  find  our  own  happiness  in  these  noblest  exer- 
cises of  our  minds  upon  their  highest  object,  especially 
as  connected  with  correspondent  returns  of  love  from 
this  object.  On  the  other  hand,  our  felicity  in  the  reg- 
ular and  full  enjoyment  of  our  Maker  eminently  glorifies 
him,  both  as  it  displays  the  riches  and  triumph  of  his 
goodness  in  harmony  with  his  other  perfections,  and 
furnishes  us  with  the  greatest  incentives  and  advantages 
to  serve  and  praise  him  forever. 

This,  by  the  way,  forcibly  represents  the  absurdity 
and  self-contradiction  of  that  sentiment,  which  states 
true  love  to  God  to  imply  a  willingness  to  give  up  the 
enjoyment  of  hirn  for  the  sake  of  his  greater  glory !  A 
sentiment  as  repugnant  to  the  nature  of  the  thing,  as  it 
is  to  the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture,  and  to  the  essential 
constitution  of  man,  considered  either  as  merely  ration- 
al, or  sanctified. 

Further,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  gratitude  to  God  for  his 
favours  is  an  important  branch  of  the  pious  temper ;  for 


48  OK  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  IV. 

if  the  essential  perfections  of  Deity  are  a  proper  object  of 
esteem  and  complacency,  then  the  exercise  of  these  per- 
fections in  acts  of  beneficence  to  us  demands  the  corres- 
pondent feehngs  and  acknowledgments  of  gratitude  ; 
p-ratitude  as  constant  and  progressive,  as  is  the  current 
of  divine  benefits. 

True  love  of  God  likewise  involves  a  reverential  and 
filial  fear  of  his  power,  justice,  and  paternal  displeasure ; 
a  steady  and  cheerful  trust  in  bis  governing  wisdom,  be- 
nevolence, and  faitlifulness :,  a  quiet  resignation  to  hi$ 
disposing  pleasure,  even  in  the  most  trying  scenes ;  an 
habitual  and  divine  joy  in  his  perfect  and  universal  ad- 
ministration ;  a  prevailing  and  effectual  desire  to  com- 
port with  or  be  conformed  to  all  his  perfections  ;  to  be 
obedient  to  his  whole  preceptive  ^viil,  and  to  hold  com- 
munion with  him  in  lyiis  various  ordinances  and  works. 

The  way  is  now  prepared  to  consider^ 

Secondly,  The  grounds  or  momes  of  this  divine  afr 
fection.  These  are,  first,  the  essential  perfections  of 
God  ;  and  secondly,  his  relations  and  communica- 
tions to  us. 

1.  We  are  to  love  him  primarily  for  his  own  loveli- 
ness ;  or  as  the  text  intimates,  A\-e  are  first  to  love  him, 
as  the  Lord,  the  infinitely  glorious  Jeliovah ;  and  then, 
as  our  God,  related  to  us  by  many  endeaiung  ties. 

In  proof  of  this,  I  would  observe,  if  the  character  of 
God  is  really  amiable  in  itself,  it  is  fit  that  we  should 
regard  it  accordingly  ;  for  it  is  certainly  right  to  love 
what  is  right.  We  all  find  ourselves  bound,  and  event 
constrained  to  love  a  w^orthy  human  character,  at  the 
first  sight  or  hearing  of  it,  previously  to  any  thought  of 
self-interest,  gr  to  tlic  idea  of  deriving  any  benefit  from 
it ;  yea,  in  opposition  to  private  and  selfish  affection. 
Thus  the  excellent  character  of  a  Washington  has 
commanded  the  esteem  of  distant  nations,  jea,  of  selfish 


Ser.  IV.]  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  49 

Britons,  who,  though  obHged  to  view  him  in  the  late 
revohition  as  their  most  formidable  enemy,  yet  felt 
themselves  equally  obliged  to  admire  and  extol  those 
great  and  good  qualities,  which  ennobled  the  man.  How 
much  greater  then  must  be  the  obligation,  which  binds 
us  all  to  revere  and  love  the  infinitely  perfect  Original, 
on  account  of  his  transcendent  greatness  and  goodness  ! 
It  is  GoD*s  infinite  perfection,  which  rnakes  him  to  be 
a  God,  which  constitutes  all  his  glory  and  beauty.  If 
therefore  we  overlook  this,  we  overlook  God  himself; 
we  set  aside  every  thing  in  him,  which  is  a  ground  of 
esteem  or  affection ;  consequently  all  our  love,  if  we 
have  any,  must  centre  and  terminate  in  self.  In  a 
word,  it  is  self-evident,  that  no  man  can  truly  esteem 
and  love  the  excellent  character  of  Deitv,  unless  he 
loves  it  on  account  of  its  excellence.  This  love  to 
God  for  his  own  most  amiable  perfections,  and  espe- 
cially for  his  holiness,  which  may  be  called  the  sum  and 
crown  of  his  perfections,  is  the  most  noble,  prominent, 
and  discriminating  feature  of  true  religion.  But  still  it 
is  not  the  only  feature  ;  the  religion  of  fallen,  imperfect 
man  is  not  wholly  made  up  of  disinterested  love  either 
to  God,  or  the  created  system.     For, 

In  the  2d  place,  we  are  to  love  him  not  only  as  the 
Lord,  but  as  our  God.  This  points  out  the  seconda- 
ry ground  to  this  duty.  We  are  to  love  him  as  our 
Creator,  who  gave  us  our  existence  and  faculties,  and  to 
whom  therefore  they  ought  to  be  affectionately  devoted  ; 
as  our  Preserver  and  Benefactor,  who,  by  upholding, 
actuating  and  comforting  us  every  moment,  acquires  a 
new  Utle,  with  each  successive  instant,  to  our  best  af- 
fections and  service  ;  as  our  Lawgiver  and  Judge,  who 
has  an  undoubted  right  to  give  law  to  his  own  creatures, 
who  has  accordingly  summed  up  his  requirements  in 
the  great  law  of  love,  and  who  can  and  will  reward  or 


50  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  CSer.  IV". 

punish  their  obedience  or  transgression  ;  finally,  as  our 
merciful  Father  and  Redeemer,  who,  by  giving  his  own 
Son  to  die  for  our  redemption,  has  bought  us  to  him- 
self at  an  mfinite  price,  and  thereby  laid  us  under  the 
most  forcible  and  endearhig  obligations  to  glorify  God 
•with  our  bodies  and  spirits,  \vhich  are  his.  The  love 
and  benefits  of  Go  d  in  our  creation  and  preservation, 
especially  in  our  redemption  and  everlasting  salvation, 
are  constantly  held  up  in  Scripture  as  arguments  to  en- 
gage our  love  and  obedience  ;  and  all  the  saints  on  sa- 
cred record  are  represented,  as  feeling  the  animating, 
constraining  influence  of  these  motives.  A  thankful 
sense  therefore  of  the  temporal,  spiritual,  and  everlast- 
ing mercies  of  God,  and  a  subordinate  regard  to  our 
own  interest,  as  affected  thereby,  do  not  betray  a  mean 
and  unchristian  selfishness,  as  some  seem  to  represent, 
but  form  an  essential  ti'ait  in  the  truly  pious  character. 
If  Moses,  the  first  character  for  virtue  in  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, WAS  in  some  degree  incited  to  duty  by  the  fu- 
ture recompense  of  reward ;  if  St.  Paul  and  other  em- 
inent Christians  were  constrained  by  the  mercies  of 
God,  and  the  love  of  Christ  in  redemption,  to  live  to  his 
glor}'^ ;  if  the  Redeemer  himself  was  animated  by  the 
joy  set  before  him  ;  then  it  cannot  be  base  oi-  criminal 
for  his  disciples  to  be  influenced  by  the  same. 

We  proceed  now  to  ascertain  the  ?7ieasure  of  this  love 
to  God.  We  are  to  love  him  "  witli  all  the  heart,  and 
with  all  the  soul ,  and  m  ith  all  the  mind,  and  v^'ith  all  the 
strength."  This  noble  cluster  of  emphatical  and  nearly 
R}'nonymoMs  expressions  is  designed  more  forcibly  to 
express  this  one  great  idea,  that  God  ought  to  be  loved 
to  the  highest  possible  degree  of  our  natiu'al  capacities. 
We  must  love  him  *'  with  all  our  hearts,"  that  h,  witli 
a  cordial,  unfeigned,  governing  affection,  in  opposition 
to  a  double  or  divided  heart,  a  part  of  which  seems 


Ser.  IV.]  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  5X 

devoted  to  God  and  religion,  while  its  supreme  love 
and  service  are  given  to  some  other  object.  We  must 
love  him  *' with  all  our  souls;"  that  is,  with  all  the 
faculties  of  our  souls.  The  understanding  must  be 
occupied  in  the  contemplation  of  him  ;  the  judgment 
must  hold  him  in  the  highest  esteem  ;  the  will  must  em- 
brace him,  as  its  chief  good ;  and  the  affections  meet 
and  rest  in  him,  as  their  central  and  ultimate  object. 
We  must  love  him  "  with  all  our  minds  ;"  that  is,  a 
well  informed  mind  must  be  the  guide,  and  a  willing 
mind  the  spring  and  soul  of  our  piety.  Finally,  we  are 
to  love  him  with  "  all  our  strength;"  that  is,  our  affec- 
tion must  be  vigorous  and  operative  ;  it  must  seize  and 
strain  every  nerve,  and  exert  the  whole  strength  of  our 
souls  and  bodies  in  the  service  of  the  glorious  and  be- 
loved object.  In  a  word,  these  strong  phrases  do  not 
imply,  that  divine  love  ought  to  swallow  up  our  faculties 
in  such  a  manner,  as  to  extinguish  all  our  other  passions, 
or  shut  out  every  innocent  earthly  object  and  entertain- 
ment, or  keep  the  mind  in  a  constant  passionate  rapture 
of  relieious  zeal  and  iov  ;  thev  onlv  intend,  that  love  to 
God  must  steadily  keep  the  throne  in  our  breasts,  and 
duly  regulate  and  sanctify  all  our  inferior  affections  and 
pursuits. 

Let  us  now,  in  the  last  place,  attend  to  the  superior 
importance  of  this  divine  principle.  Love  to  our  Maker 
is  here  stvled  the  first  and  9:reat  commandment.  It 
is  so  in  regard  of  its  object.  As  God  is  infinitely  more 
excellent,  than  all  other  beings,  so  love  to  him  must 
proportionably  transcend  all  other  obligations  and  vir- 
tues. That  affection,  which  embraces  an  infinite  object, 
the  sum  of  all  being  and  beauty,  seems  to  possess  a  sort 
of  infinit}'-,  an  amplitude,  an  elevation,  a  glory  derived 
from  and  congenial  to  that  of  its  object.     Further,  as 

N         ■ 


52  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  IV. 

the  infinite  perfections  of  God,  and  his  consequent 
authority  over  his  rational  creatures,  are  the  foundation 
of  all  their  religious  and  moral  obligations ;  so  a  due 
respect  to  these  divine  perfections  and  this  authority 
must  be  the  ground  work  of  all  religion,  the  prime 
moving  spring  of  universal  obedience.  Without  this  re- 
gard to  God,  there  is  no  holy,  acceptable  obedience  in 
any  instance  whatever ;  but  where  this  exists,  it  ever 
leads  to  genuine  religious  obedience  in  every  particular  ; 
it  foi-ms  the  only  sure,  efficacious,  and  inflexible  princi- 
ple of  virtue. 

Again.  The  love  of  God  appears  greater  than  the 
love  of  our  neighbour  in  another  respect,  namely,  be- 
cause the  latter  is  to  be  loved  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  the 
former,  or  as  the  offspring  and  image  of  God,  and  the 
object  of  his  paternal  affection.  We  are  also  to  love 
our  neie:hbour  in  subordination  to  God,  so  as  to  be 
ready  to  give  up  the  most  valuable  and  favourite  crea- 
ture, when  it  comes  in  competition  \\'ith  the  will,  the  fa- 
vour, the  interest  of  the  Creator.  This  is  doubtless  the 
import  of  that  remarkable  text,  Luke  xiv.  26,  and  was 
exemplified  in  Abraham,  when  he  offered  up  the  dear- 
est earthly  object. 

Blessed  be  God,  we,  who  are  parents,  are  not  called, 
as  was  Abraham,  to  offer  up  an  only  son  with  our  own 
hands  ;  yet  we  ai'e  sometimes  called  to  resign  our  belov- 
ed children,  who  ai"e  dear  as  a  right  hand,  to  the  stroke 
of  death.  In  such  cases  true  love  to  God  will  unite  our 
\\ills  to  his,  will  swallow  up  our  natural  and  earthly 
affections  in  a  supreme  regard  to  his  pleasure,  his  ap- 
probation and  honour,  and  this  will  make  us  ultimately 
feel  and  act,  as  if  we  hated  and  despised  the  most  be- 
loved creature,  compared  with  the  infinite  Creator. 

Finally.  The  love  of  God  is  the  first  and  great  com- 
mand, as  it  is  the  principal  source  or  ingredient  of  our 


Ser.  IV.]  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  53 

happiness.     This  divine  affection  directly  tends  to  as- 
similate us  to  its  glorious  and  blessed  object ;  to  en- 
large, purify,  and  elevate  our  minds ;  to  improve  us  in 
the  various  branches  of  moral  goodness,  which  con- 
stitutes the  health,  the  perfection,  the  felicity  of  our 
rational  nature.     Divine  love  unites  us  to  God  its  object, 
and  gives  us  the  happifying  enjoyment  of  him.     As 
God  is  the  sovereign  good,  the  adequate  portion  of  our 
souls,  so  love  inti'oduces  us  to  die  possession  of  this 
goodi  it  introduces  us  to  an  object,  sufficient  to  employ, 
to  entertain,  to  absorb  all  our  faculties  of  contemplation 
and  enjoyment.      It  unites  us  to  a  Friend,  who  is  in- 
finitely Vvise,  faithful,  and  good  ;  who  has  no  unkindness 
to  be  suspected,  no  sorrows  to  be  condoled,   no  change 
to  be  feared  ;   who  is  forever  glorious  and  happy,  and 
forever  our  own,  and  is  always  at  hand  to  guard,  assist, 
and  comfort  us.     How  great  the  happiness  arising  from 
an  intercourse  of  love  with  such  an  object  even  in  this 
state  of  distance  and  imperfection !  But  how  unspeakably 
greater  the  bliss  of  seeing  him  face  to  face  in  the  light  of 
future  glory  ;   of  beholding,  loving,  and  enjoying  him  in 
an  immediate,  perfect,  progressi\'e  manner  forever  and 
ever!    Well  might  the  Psalmist  in  the  view  of  this 
blessedness  exclaim,   *'  As  for  me,  I  will  behold  thy  face 
in  righteousness ;    I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake, 
widi  thy  likeness  ;  for  in  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy; 
at  thy  right  hand  ^here  are  pleasures  for  evermore." 

In  the  review  of  this  subject,  it  is  natural  to  reflect  on 
the  goodness  as  Mell,  as  propriety  and  justice  of  that  di- 
vine constitution,  which  makes  love  to  God  the  first  du- 
ty of  man.  The  divine  Legislator  herein  has  equally 
consulted  and  inseparably  united  his  own  rights  and 
dignity,  and  our  interest  and  happiness ;  for  this  pious 
regard  to  the  Deity  is  the  main  qualification  for  and 
ingredient  in  rational  felicity. 


54  ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  IV. 

We  likewise  inier  the  destructive  tendency  of  impiety 
and  atheism,  both  to  societies  and  individuals,  by  un- 
dermining the  foundation  of  order,  virtue,  and  rational 
felicity.  We  infer  too  the  dangerous  error  of  those 
moralists,  who  place  the  whole  duty  of  man  in  the  per- 
sonal and  social  virtues,  M'hile  they  overlook,  and  per- 
haps ridicule,  as  mere  superstition  or  enthusiasm,  the 
exercises  of  love  and  devotion  towards  God.  It  ap- 
pears from  our  doctrine,  that  piety  is  the  basis  and  soul 
of  moral  excellence  and  human  happiness ;  that  it  is 
perfectly  fit  in  itself,  is  necessary  to  the  uniform,  per- 
severing, and  acceptable  discharge  of  social  and  private 
obligations,  and  is  essentially  pre-requisite  to  the  final 
approbation  and  enjoyment  of  God.  Let  our  accom- 
pli^ihments  in  other  respects  be  ever  so  amiable  or 
splendid,  if  we  are  eminently  just  and  kind,  generous 
and  honourable  towards  our  felloAv  men,  and  our  character 
to  human  view  is  quite  unexceptionable  and  noble  ;  yet 
if  we  treat  the  original  beauty  and  good,  the  supreme 
Parent  and  Benefactor,  with  cold  indifference  or  pointed 
opposition,  we  betray  a  very  unnatural  and  monstrous 
state  of  mind,  which  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  real 
honesty  and  goodness.  Let  those,  \vho  have  hitherto 
lived  as  w  ithout  God  in  the  world,  labour  to  feel  their 
guilt  and  danger,  and  earuestly  seek  the  recovery  of  that 
divine  temper,  M'hich  is  the  root  of  human  perfection  and 
felicity.  Let  those,  who  possess  it,  be  daily  employed 
in  feeling  the  sacred  fiame  ;  let  the  daily  breath  of  their 
hearts  and  of  their  lives  echo  that  becoming  and  elevated 
language  of  piety,  "Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee? 
and  there  is  none  upon  eaith,  that  I  desire,  besides  thee. 
My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth ;  but  God  is  the  strength 
of  my  heait  and  my  portion  forever." 


Sermon  v. 
On  the  Love  of  our  Neighbour. 


Mark  xii.  31. 

And  the  second  h  like  unto  it^  namely^  this.  Thou  shah 
Icde  thy  neighbour  as  tliystlf. 

X  HIS  and  the  preceding  verse  present  to  our  view  a 
beautiful  compend  of  true  religion.  They  contain  the 
answer,  w  hich  our  Saviour  gave  to  this  important  ques- 
tion, "  Which  is  the  gieat  commandment  in  the  law?" 
His  first  reply  is,  "'  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
with  all  thy  heart  ;....tlii3  is  the  first  and  great  command- 
ment." This  verse  holds  up  the  superior  obligation 
and  importance  of  piety,  or  an  inward  governing  regard 
to  the  Deity.  Accordingly,  the  prime  duty  and  excel- 
lence of  love  to  God  were  the  theme  of  our  late  medita- 
tions in  this  place.  The  words,  fixed  at  the  head  of  this 
discourse,  call  our  attention  to  the  second  great  duty  of 
man,  which  is  of  similar  importance  as  well,  as  insepa- 
rably connected  with  the  first.  "  And  the  second  is 
like  unto  it,  namely,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself." 

In  illustrating  the  subject  before  us,  we  will  consider 
the  object,  the  nature,  the  standard,  and  the  reasons  of 
the  duty  enjoined. 

First.  The  object  of  this  duty  is  our  neighbour.  But 
who  is  designated  or  included  in  this  appellation  ?  If  a 
Jew  in  our  Saviour's  day  had  been  asked  this  question, 
he  would  have  replied,  those  of  my  own  kindred  and 


56  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.     [Ser.  V. 

nation,  of  my  own  religious  sect  or  denomination ;  these, 
and  these  only,  are  my  neighbours,  and  the  proper  ob- 
jects of  my  charitable  affection.  And  if  some  bigoted 
professors  of  Christianity  were  interrogated  in  the  same 
manner,  I  fear  their  hearts  would  echo  the  same  reply, 
though  perhaps  they  would  blush  to  avow  it  with  their 
lips.  But  if  we  apply  to  our  divine  Lord  for  a  decision 
of  this  question,  we  shall  find  him  determine  it  on  a  plan 
infinitely  more  noble  and  enlarged.  When  a  Jewish 
lawyer  asked  him,  "And  who  is  my  neighbour  ?"  he 
relates  to  him  the  story  of  a  certain  Jew,  who,  falling  in- 
to the  hands  of  robbers,  was  stripped,  wounded,  and 
left  w-eltering  in  his  gore.  He  was  found  in  the  road 
by  two  Jew  ish  travellers ;  a  contracted,  imfeeling  priest, 
and  a  Levite  of  the  same  mean,  and  barbarous  temper ; 
who,  instead  of  commiserating  and  relieving  the  wretch- 
ed object,  though  one  of  their  own  country  and  religion, 
only  gave  him  a  cold,  distant  look,  and  passed  by  on  the 
other  side.  At  length  a  Samaritan,  orie  of  another  na- 
tion, and  of  a  quite  different  religion,  with  whom  the 
Jews  disdained  any  kind  of  intercourse,  finds  the  unhap- 
py stranger,  and  his  heart  is  instantly  struck  at  the  pitia- 
ble sight ;  his  compassionate,  beneficent  love  bursts  forth 
through  every  barrier  of  national  prej  adice  or  party  dis- 
tinction ;  he  embraces  a  professed  enemy  in  the  arms 
of  fervent  benevolence,  and  treats  him  with  all  the  ten- 
der and  generous  kindness  of  a  brother.  "  Which, 
now,  (says  our  Saviour)  which  of  these  three  was  neigh- 
bour to  him',  that  fell  among  thieves  ?"  The  lawyer 
readily  answers,  "He  that  shewed  mercy  on  him." 
Then  said  Jesus,  "  Go  thou,  and  do  likewise.  Look 
upon  thyself  a  neighbour  to  every  man,  and  every  man 
a  neighbour  to  thee.  Let  the  sti-cam  of  thy  extended 
and  active  good  will  flow  out  to  all,  whom  thou  art  capar 
ble   of    serving,    whether    they   be   strangers   or    ac* 


Ser.v.]    the  love  of  our  neighbour.        57 

qiiaintance,  friends  or  foes,  just  or  unjust."  Thus  the 
gospel  holds  up  all  mankind,  as  the  object  of  our 
neighbourly  and  fraternal  regards. 

Secondly.     We  are  now  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of 
the  a^ection  here  required  to  this  object.     And  it  is 
obvious  to  remark,  that  there  are  many  things,   which 
\A'ear  some  appearance  of  love  to  mankind,   which  yet 
fall  essentially  short  of  the  spirit  of  the  duty  before  us. 
There  is  an  instinctive  and  painful  sympathy  awakened 
by  the  sight  of  a  fellow  creature  in  distress,  which  en- 
gages our  immediate  efforts  for  his  relief.     There  is 
a  strong  natural  affection  towards  our  kindred,  especially 
tow^ai'ds  our  tender  offspring.     There  is  a  characteristic 
sweetness  and  goodness  of  temper,  which  forms  an  early 
and  constitutional  feature  in  human  characters.     There 
is  also  an  artificial   politeness  and  generosity,  the  pro- 
duct of  civilization  and  refinement,  or  at  best  of  merely^ 
rational  and  philosophical  considerations.    There  is  like- 
wise a  warm  affection  to  others,  which  grows  out  of  a 
likeness  or  union  of  sentiment  and  disposition,  of  party 
or  country,  or  which  is  nourished  by  the  enjoyment  or 
the  hope  of  their  partial  friendship  and  beneficence  to 
us  ;  not  to  add,  that  there  is  sometimes  an  affected  dis- 
play of  kindness  and  munificence  to  individuals,   or  of 
noble  patriotic  zeal  for  the  public,  which  is  prompted  by 
merely  vain  or  selfish  motives,  and  sometimes  by  views 
very  base  and  iniquitous.     It  is  evident,  at  first  sight, 
that  neither  of  these  apparent  instances  of  benevolence, 
nor  all  of  them  combined,  fulfil  the  extensive  precept 
in  the  text.     If  you  ask  what  further  is  included,  we  re- 
ply,  genuine,  virtuous  love  to  our  neighbour   is  ever 
founded  upon  and  connected  with  piety,  or  a  religious 
and  prevailing  regard  to  our  Creator.     If  we  love  God 
with  a  supreme  affection,  w^e  shall  naturally  love  his 
rational  offspring  for  his  sake,  on  account  of  their  near 


58  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.     [Ser.V. 

relation  to  him,  and  the  image  or  display,  which  they 
present,  of  his  glorious  perfections  ;  we  shall  love  and 
do  them  good  from  a  pious  respect  to  the  example,  the 
w  ill,  and  the  glory  of  their  divine  Parent  and  ours,  who 
is  good  to  all,  who  commands  us  to  manifest  our  love  to 
him  by  acts  of  kindness  to  his  creatures,  and  who  is 
greatly  pleased  and  honoured  by  every  effort  to  promote 
their  felicity.  In  a  word,  since  benevolence  is  the  very 
nature  and  beauty  of  God  himself,  and  since  love  to  him 
and  daily  intercourse  Mith  him  directly  conduce  to 
assimilate  us  more  and  more  to  his  character ;  it  follows, 
that  a  pious  affection  to  the  Deity  will  soften  and  ex- 
pand the  heart  in  godlike  benevolence ;  will  kill  a  selfish, 
proud,  and  malignant  spirit,  and  form  its  possessor  to  a 
gentle  and  forgiving,  a  just  and  fair,  a  sincere  and  faith- 
ful, a  beneficent  and  liberal  character.  Thus  the  love 
of  God  and  of  our  neighbour  are  intimately  united; 
the  one  is  the  sure  and  effectual  basis,  the  other  the 
rising  and  beautiful  superstructure  of  universal  good- 
ness. As  he,  who  truly  knows  and  regards  his  Maker, 
will  imitate  and  please  him  by  loving  and  seeking  the 
good  of  mankind  ;  so  he,  who  has  no  proper  affection 
towards  God,  can  have  no  genuine  love  to  man,  nor 
any  certain  and  commanding  principle  of  social  virtue. 
Agreeably,  an  inspired  apostle  assures  us,  that  every 
one,  who  truly  loveth  his  brother,  is  born  of  God,  and 
knoweth  God  ;  but  he,  that  loveth  not,  knoweth  not 
God  ;  for  God  is  love. 

Further,  as  the  lo^-e  of  our  neighbour  supposes  a  re- 
ligious principle,  as  its  parent  and  support,  so  its  prop- 
erties and  fruits  embrace  the  whole  compass  of  social 
duty ;  for  all  the  commands  of  the  second  table  are 
comprehended  in  this  one  saying,  "  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbour  as  thyself."  This  is  that  charity,  which  is 
styled  the  bond  of  perfectness,  because  it  is  the  life  and 


Ser.  v.]     the  love  of  our  neighbour.  59 

perfection  of  every  virtue,  the  uniting  band  or  centre 
of  the  whole  circle  of  Christian  graces.  As  all  God's 
moral  perfections  and  acts  may  be  summed  up  in  love, 
so  all  the  affections  and  exercises,  which  we  owe  to  our 
fellow  men,  are  included  in  charity.  This  compre-\ 
hends,  or  effectually  produces  a  proper  esteem  of  their 
persons  and  stations,  a  virtuous  and  friendly  complacen- 
cy in  their  characters,  whenever  they  appear  to  be  holy, 
or  morally  excellent,  a  cordial  gratitude  for  their  ta-^ 
vours,  and  above  all,  a  benevolent,  active  zeal  for  tlieir 
welfare.  Love  unites  our  hearts  to  the  interest  of  its 
object,  and  engages  us  to  desire,  to  pursue,  and  to  re- 
joice in  it  as  our  own.  Love  is  eyes  to  the  blind  and 
feet  to  the  lame.  It  springs  forward  to  relieve  the  chil- 
dren of  want  and  distress ;  to  compose  and  tranquilize 
the  sons  of  contention  ;  to  enlighten,  com.fort,  or  estab- 
lish the  ignorant,  the  wavering,  or  the  faint-hearted  in  re- 
ligion ;  and,  in  a  w^ord,  to  diffuse  happiness  all  around,  as 
lar  as  its  ability  can  reach,  through  the  family,  through  the 
vicinity,  through  the  country,  yea,  through  the  whole 
brotherhood  of  man.  If  we  would  see  this  excellent  virtue 
in  its  full  dress,  let  us  contemplate  the  noble  picture  of  it 
dra^vn  by  the  hand  of  inspiration  in  the  13th  chapter  of 
the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  "  Charity,"  or  love 
to  our  neighbour,  "  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ;  charity 
envieth  not,  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up,  does 
not  l)ehave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is  not 
easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil,  rejoiceth  not  in  ini- 
quity, but  in  the  truth  ;  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all 
things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things." 

To  throw  still  further  light  on  this  interesting  sub- 
ject let  us  attend, 

Thirdly,  To  the  standard  or  measure  of  the  affection 
required.     We  aie  commanded  to  love  our  neighbour 
o 


eO  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.    [Szr.V. 

as  ourselves.  But  what  is  the  import  of  this  remarka- 
ble phrase  ?  We  answer,  it  seems  capable  of  a  three- 
fold construction.  It  may  intend  an  equality  of  degree. 
This  is  the  sense  of  some  learned  expositors.  But  sup- 
pose we  possess  an  equal  affection  to  our  neighbour  as 
to  ourselves,  it  vv'ill  not  follow,  that  we  must  or  can  pay 
the  same  degree  of  practical  attention  to  his  welfare,  as 
to  cur  own  \  for  besides  the  one  common  aifection 
to  him  and  ourselves,,  we  all  passess  a  variety  of 
private  appetites  and  passions ;  and  to  }>rovide  for  and 
gratify  tliese,  must  necessarily  occupy  a  peculiar  and 
large  portion  of  our  time  and  pm-suits.  Besides,  we 
have  a  far  more  immediate,  and  constant,  and  lively 
view  of  our  own  interests  as  well,  as  far  more  frequent 
and  ad^vantageous  oppcatunities  to  promote  them,  than 
•we  can  ha^^e  in  reference  to  the  interest  of  others  ;  and 
we  are  evidently  entrusted  by  oiu-  Creator  Avith  the  care 
of  ourselves  in  a  special  sense,  ^vith  the  care  of  our  own 
\\'elfare  as  aacII,  as  of  our  moral  behaviour.  Admitting 
therefore  the  possible  existence  and  obligation  of  an 
equal  inward  benevolence  to  my  neighbour  as  to  my- 
self, yet  I  neither  can  nor  ought  to  carry  this  principle 
fully  into  practice.  Indeed  tlie  principle  itself  seems 
contrary  to  evident  fact ;  for  all  mankind,  the  most  vir- 
tuous  and  enlarged  as  well,  as  the  most  contracted  and 
vicious,  have  a  natural,  inseparable  principle  of  self-love, 
■\\hich  inspires  a  peculiar  feeling  for  their  own  safety 
and  litappiness,  as  an  important  personal  good;  and  to 
cherish  and  act  upon  this  principle,  v/ithin  certain  lim- 
its, is  both  proper  and  useful ;  and  far  from  being  con- 
demned is  plainly  warranted  by  this  very  command, 
which  presupposes  the  existence  and  lawfulness  of  this 
private  affection,  and  makes  it  the  rule  of  social.  For 
in  the  next  place,  the  phrase  before  us  may  import  a 
similar  kind  of  affection  \\idi  that,  wliich  we  bear  ta 


SER.V.l     THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  61 

ourselves.  As  every  man  foves  himself  mth  a  sincere 
and  fen'ent,  a  vigorous  and  constant  aifection  ;  an  auc- 
tion, which  usually  excites  the  most  provident  and  in- 
<lustrious  care  to  avoid  misery  and  secure  happiness, 
M^hich  sweetens  all  his  labours  for  that  end,  and  which 
produces  either  great  joy  or  grief  in  the  attainment  ew 
disappointment  of  his  favourite  object ;  so  v/e  ought  to 
feel  and  express  the  same  kind  of  regard  to  our  neigh- 
bour,  and  tlius  to  make  his  interest,  his  joys  and  sor- 
rows our  own. 

Finally,  here,  the  expression,  as  thyself ^  imports  that 
our  afiection  and  attention  to  the  good  of  others  should 
bear  a  reasonable  proportion  to  our  love  and  care  of 
ourselves ;  that  after  making  particular  and  competent 
provision  for  our  own  vi  elfare,  our  affectionate  contriv- 
ance and  endeavour,  our  talents  and  property  must  be 
consecrated  to  the  good  of  mankind.  In  short,  our 
text  obliges  us  to  feel  and  act  towards  our  neighbours, 
on  all  occasions,  just  as  we  should  reasonably  desire, 
that  they  should  feel  and  conduct  to'\\ards  us,  agreeably 
to  that  most  impartial  and  excellent  rule,  "  Whatever 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so 
unto  them," 

Do  any  inquire  the  reaso?2s  of  this  strict  and  exten- 
sive injunction  ;  or  ^vhy  so  high  a  pitch  of  benevolence 
is  required  of  us  ?  The  answer  to  this  completes  the 
plan  of  our  discourse.  And  first,  we  are  obliged  to  it, 
because  it  is  fit  and  beautiful  in  itself.  If  my  neigh- 
hour  is  equally  worthy  of  esteem  with  myself;  if  he  has 
equal  capacity,  need,  and  desire  of  liappiness  ;  and  if 
his  welfai-e  be  as  valuable,  as  good  in  itself,  and  as  pre- 
cious to  him,  as  mine  is  to  me ;  then  it  is  in  its  own  na- 
ture right,  that  I  should  regard  his  person  and  interest 
as  my  own.  Besides,  all  men  are  bretliren,  having  the 
same  common  parent  and  origin,  nature  and  conditioji, 


e2  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.    [Ser.  Vw 

necessities  and  prospects,  the  same  mutual  dependence 
and  social  affections ;  it  is  therefore  congruous  and 
beautiful  for  them  to  feel  and  act  towards  one  anodier 
upon  the  plan  of  brotherly  love,  reciprocal  kindness, 
and  generosity.  We  may  add,  the  example  of  God 
and  his  Son  enforces  this  obligation  upon  us.  The 
whole  name  or  character  of  God  is  comprised  in 
love  ;  in  wise,  pure,  comprehensive,  almighty  benevo» 
lence.  This  is  the  grand  spring  of  all  the  divine  opera- 
tions in  creation,  providence  and  redemption.  Now 
imitation  of  God  Is  the  first  duty  and  highest  excellence 
of  man.  A  grateful  sense  of  the  rich,  disinterested 
goodness  of  God  and  the  Saviour  to  our  rebellious 
world  peculiarly  becomes  those,  who  are  so  infinitely 
indebted  to  this  goodness :  and  where  this  gratitude 
prevails,  it  will  engage  us  to  love  and  do  good  to  one 
another,  as  God  has  loved  us  all,  and  hereby  to  further 
the  designs  and  spread  the  triumphs  of  divine  benevor 
lence  as  well,  as  to  approve  ourselves  his  gentle  chil- 
dren and  favourites.  And  since  God  has  likewise  en- 
joined this  benevolent  affection  upon  us  by  his  own  infi- 
nite authority,  we  cannot  \^  ithhold  it  Avithout  trampling 
under  foot  the  rights  both  of  God  and  of  man,  and 
proving  ourselves  to  be  as  destitute  of  piety,  as  we  ai-e 
of  social  virtue.  Let  me  add,  this  lo^'c  to  one  another 
is  the  foundation  and  soul  both  of  public  and  individual 
happiness.  By  devoting  each  member  of  the  commu- 
nity  to  the  interest  of  all  the  rest,  it  secures  and  ad- 
vances the  common  good  to  the  highest  degree.  This 
forms  the  faithful  ruler,  the  obedient  subject,  the  patri- 
otic citizen,  the  obliging  neighbour,  the  united,  vigo- 
rous, and  happy  society  !  This  not  only  gives  to  the 
several  members  of  society  the  sublime  pleasure,  ^vhich 
arises  from  conscious  goodness,  from  the  reciprocal  en- 
dearments and  offices  of  love,  but  it  puts  each  Individ- 


Ser.  V.     THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  eS 

ual  in  possession  of  the  whole  mass  of  good,  enjoyed 
by  all  his  fellow  members,  yea,  in  some  sense,  of  all  the 
good,  which  he  sees  difl'used  through  the  universe, 
since  his  benevolence  enables  him  to  rejoice  in  it  as  his 
own.  Every  argument  therefore  of  intrinsic  fitness, 
equity,  and  beauty,  of  divine  authority  and  human  in- 
terest and  happiness,  concurs  to  recommend  the  duty 
before  us. 

In  reflecting  on  the  preceding  subject,  we  are  led  to 
see  in  what  sense  Christian  benevolence  may  be  call- 
ed disinterested.  It  is  not  so  in  such  a  sense,  as  ex- 
cludes a  regular  and  even  peculiar  love  and  care  of  our- 
selves, nor  in  such  a  sense,  as  would  imply,  that  love  to 
others  is  not  as  really  our  affection,  or  conducive  to  our 
o\\  n  gratification  and  interest,  as  e\'en  self-love  can  pos- 
sibly be  ;  for  there  is  no  temper  or  course  of  action, 
which  produces  such  immediate,  such  rich  and  lasting 
enjoyment  to  the  subject,  as  the  habitual  feeling,  the 
conscious  and  successful  exertion  of  Christian  benevo- 
lence. The  only  sense  therefore  in  which  it  can  be 
called  disinterested  is,  that  it  is  not  the  offspring  of 
mere  natural  self-love,  but  is  derived  from  a  source, 
which  reg-ards  an  object,  and  pursues  an  end  distinct 
from  those  of  bare  private  affection,  and  is  ever  ready  to 
sacrifice  a  lesser  selfish  interest  to  the  superior  good  of 
its  object.  Yea,  to  offer  up  our  whole  personal  happi- 
ness in  time  to  the  civil  and  religious  interests  of  man- 
kind. 

Further,  we  learn  that  piety  and  social  virtue  must  be 
united  in  order  to  complete  a  good  character  ;  that  nei- 
ther of  them  can  be  stable,  genuine,  or  consistent  with- 
out the  other.  We  also  learn  what  is  the  most  promi- 
nent feature,  or  the  leading  spirit  and  excellency  of  the 
Christian  system,  namely,  love  to  God  and  man.  With- 


6^  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.     [Ser.  V. 

out  this  the  most  orthodox  faith,  the  most  confident  hope 
in  the  divine  mercy  and  the  merits  of  the  Saviour,  and 
the  most  zealous  and  scrupulous  attendance  on  Chris- 
tian institutions  will  prove  but  vanity  and  delusion. 

Further,  it  is  natural  to  ask,  whst  benevolent  or  hur 
mane  motive  can  induce  so  many  persons  in  this  en- 
lightened age  not  only  to  reject  Christianity  themselves, 
but  to  labour  to  undermine  its  credit  and  influence 
among  their  fellow  creatures  ?  Do  they  seriously  wish 
to  extirpate  a  religion,  whose  whole  aim  is  to  promote 
mutual  love,  usefulness,  and  happiness  among  men 
upon  principles  and  motives,  which  alone  can  eifectu,- 
ally  attain  and  permanently  secure  them  ? 

To  conclude,  let  us  survey  our  own  characters  in  the 
light  of  this  subject.  Let  us  ask  our  consciences, 
"whether  we  possess  that  love  to  our  neighbour,  to  ev- 
ery person  within  our  reach,  which  is  ready  to  treat 
him  as  another  self,  to  seek  and  rejoice  in  his  happi- 
ness, to  feel  and  relieve  his  distresses,  as  if  they  were 
our  own  ?  Have  we  that  virtuous  benevolence,  which 
renders  us  uniformly  amiable  and  useful  actors  in  ev- 
ery station  and  relation  in  the  famil}-,  the  church,  and 
the  state  ?  And  is  the  mIioIc  system  of  our  social  vir- 
tues built  upon  and  supported  by  supreme  love  to 
God,  and  a  cordial  faith  in  his  Son  ?  These  are  the 
grand  questions,  which  must  decide  our  fate.  All  oth- 
er accomplishments,  short  of  love,  prophecies,  knowl- 
edge,  tongues,  yea,  faith  and  hope  shall  v^anish  away. 

That  there  is  a  principle  in  good  men,  which  answers 
to  this  description,  or  which  seeks  and  rests  in  the  good 
of  others,  as  its  ultimate  end,  is  proclaimed  by  the 
united  voice  of  experience,  of  reason,  and  Scripture. 
But  though  this  disinterested  affection  be  an  eminent 
branch  of  the  Christian  temper,  3'et  it  does  not  (as  some 


Seb.  v.]     the  love  of  our  neighbour.  65 

have  maintained)  constitute  the  whole  definition  of 
virtue,  or  comprise  all  the  parts  of  an  excellent  human 
character.  As  it  does  not  extinguish  the  other  inno- 
cent feelings  of  human  nature,  so  neither  does  it  entire- 
ly change  or  sublimate  them  into  itself.  There  is  no 
inconsistency,  either  in  theory  or  in  fact,  between  a  sub- 
ordinate regard  to  our  own  interest  and  a  benevolent 
affection  to  the  general  good,  any  more  than  between 
the  private  attraction  of  cohesion  and  the  public  law  of 
gravitation  in  the  natural  \vorld;  but  as  the  former 
guards  the  existence  and  welflire  of  individual  bodies, 
while  the  latter  makes  all  these  individuals  conspire  to 
the  general  order  and  utility  of  the  whole ;  so  in  the 
breast  of  the  good  man  private  self-love  superintends 
and  promotes  his  personal  welfare,  while  public  benev- 
olence seeks  the  general  good  of  his  fellow  beings. 
While  a  virtuous  love  of  others  unites  his  heart  to  their 
interest,  and  makes  it  his  own,  self-lo-\'e,  as  a  secondary 
principle,  prompts  him  to  seek  it  as  a  mean  of  his  own 
gratification  and  enjoyment ;  for  self-love  necessai"ily 
desires  and  pursues  whatever  it  finds  conducive  to  per- 
sonal happiness,  and  therefore  often  has  a  concomitant 
and  harmless  influence  even  in  the  most  general  be- 
neficent actions. 

I  need  not  remind  you,  that  you  will  presently  have 
an  opportunity  to  give  a  practical  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions, to  determine  whether  your  religion  consists  in  a 
mere  ceremonious  observance  of  pious  institutions,  or 
whether  it  unites  mercy  with  sacrifice ;  whether  the 
character  of  any  of  you,  like  that  of  the  hypocritical 
Pharisees  of  old,  combines  an  unfeeling,  co\etous,  and 
barbarous  disposition  towards  man  \vith  the  parade  of 
devotion  and  sanctity  tOAvards  God,  or  like  that  of  the 
good  Centurion,  sends  up  the  united  fragrance  of  pray- 


66'  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.     [Ser.  V. 

ers  and  alms,  of  fervent  piety  and  liberal  charity,  as  an 
acceptable  memorial  before  God. 

Let  us  solemnly  remember,  that  all  other  accom- 
plishments, short  of  love  to  God  and  man,  whether 
prophecies,  kno^vledge,  tongues,  yea,  faith  and  hope 
shall  A'anish  away.  But  charity  never  faileth  ;  it  forms 
the  spirit,  employment,  and  bliss  of  perfect  and  happy 
immortals.  Well  therefore  might  the  apostle  conclude 
his  encomium  upon  this  excellent  grace  with  those 
memorable  words ;  ' '  And  now  abideth  fl^ith,  hope,  char- 
ity, these  thi-ee  ;  but  the  greatest  of  these  is  chai'ity," 


@)ermon  vi. 


On  Christian  Charity. 


1  Cor.  xiii.   13. 
•The^  greatest  of  these  is  charity. 


A  HE  apostle  in  this  chapter  delivers  a  fervent  and 
sublime  encoitiium  on  charity,  and  ranks  it  far  above  the 
most  splendid  gifts,  which  can  adorn  either  men,  or 
anc:els. 

There  seems  to  have  been  an  invidious  emulation 
among  the  Corinthians  on  account  of  their  miraculous 
spiritual  gifts,  and  a  proud  ostentation  in  the  exercise  of 
them.  Hence,  at  the  close  of  the  preceding  chapter,  af- 
ter enumerating  and  commending  some  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  these  gifts,  and  exhorting  the  Christians  at 
Corinth  to  "  covet  them,"  yea,  to  "  covet  them  earnest- 
ly," the  apostle  adds,  ttet  he  would  yet  "  shew  them  a 
more  excellent  way  ;"  that  is,  something,  which  had  a 
better  claim  to  their  zeal  and  pursuit,  and  which  v/ould 
contribute  more  to  their  honour,  usefuliiess,  and  joy. 

But  what  is  this  "  more  excellent  way  ?"  It  is  charity 
or  Christian  love  ;  which  is  here  opposed  and  preferred, 
not  only  to  extraordinary  knowledge  and  eloquence,  to 
prophetic  and  miraculous  powers,  but  to  the  greatest  ex- 
ploits of  apparent  benevolence  and  religious  zeal ;  such 
as  devoting  all  our  goods  to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  and 
even  our  bodies  to  the  flame  in  the  cause  of  truth  and 
holiness ;  the  first  of  which  has  the  appearance  of  un- 
common love  to  men,  and  the  last,  of  extraordinary  love 
p 


68  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VT. 

to  God.  Yet  if  these  are  only  appearances ;  if  the  in- 
ward principles  producing  them  are  pride,  vain-glorv, 
natural  fortitude  or  obstinacy  of  temper,  or  some  simi- 
lar motive,  without  any  sincere  respect  to  the  glory  of 
God,  or  the  happiness  of  man  ;  in  this  case,  the  life  and 
substance  of  charity  are  wanting,  and  these  plausible  ac- 
tions are  but  a  hollow,  deceitful,  and  unprofitable  show. 

The  apostle  further  tells  us,  that  these  shining  accom- 
plishments and  appearances  will  soon  forever  cease ;  but 
that  true  charity  ne\'er  faileth. 

In  the  last  verse  of  the  chapter,  he  prefers  lo^'e  to 
other  Christian  graces,  as  he  had  before  preferred  it  to 
extraordinary  gifts.  "  And  now  abidcth  faith,  hope, 
charity  ;  these  three ;  but  the  greatest  of  these  is  chari- 
ty :"  q.  d.  now,  or  during  the  present  imperfect  and  mili- 
tant state  of  the  church,  each  of  these  three  graces  is  use- 
ful and  necessary,  and  therefore  must  abide  in  the  church 
at  large,  and  in  the  bosom  of  each'  of  its  sincere  mem- 
bers. Yet  still  charity  is  the  greatest  of  the  three,  both 
in  its  nature  and  duration. 

In  further  discoursing  on  the  subject,  we  will  more 
fully  describe  the  virtue  of  charity,  and  then  show  its 
pre-eminence  above  all  other  duties  and  graces  as  well, 
as  above  the  most  illustrious  and  even  supernatural  gifts. 

In  explaining  the  nature  of  charity,  it  is  proper  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  original  word  precisely  signifies  loiw.  It 
therefore  denotes  something  far  more  noble  and  exten- 
sive, than  mere  acts  of  mercy  and  liberality  t&  the  needy, 
or  sentiments  of  candour  and  Catholicism  towards  our 
fellow  Christians.  Tlie  former  of  these  often  flow  from 
a  kind  of  mechanical  benevolence,  or  occasional  sym- 
pathy ;  while  the  latter  in  many  cases  imply  and  pro- 
tect a  spirit  of  indifference  to  all  religious  principles  and 
duties.  When  this  is  the  case,  our  disposition  to  suc- 
c-)ur  the  wretched  is  rather  an  amiable  instinct,,  than  a 


See.  VI. ]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  69 

Christian  grace ;  and  our  pretended  candour  is  rather  a 
vice,  than  a  virtue. 

Evangelical  charity  is  a  principle  infinitely  superior  to 
these.  It  is  a  right  disposition  of  mind  towai-ds  all  in- 
tellectual beings,  and,  above  all,  towards  God  himself, 
the  fountain  and  summary  of  being,  perfection,  and  hap- 
piness. It  implies  such  a  fixed  view  and  esteem  of  God's 
transcendent  greatness,  rectitude,  and  gloiy,  as  engage 
us  to  consecrate  all  our  faculties,  affections,  and  actions 
to  him,  desiring  above  all  things  to  imitate  and  honour 
hiniy  and  superlatively  delighting  in  him  as  the  Supreme 
Beauty  and  Good.  As  love  to  an  excellent  human 
friend,  benefactor,  and  ruler  implies  complacency  in  hiis 
character  anc^  government,  an  earnest  pursuit  of  his  hap- 
piness and  honour,  and  a  high  estimation  of  his  com- 
pany and  friendship ;  so  lo\e  to  God  involves  a  reveren- 
tial affection  to  his  awful  and  amiable  attributes,  a  cor- 
dial acquiescence  in  his  perfect  administration,  a  su- 
preme devotion  to  his  interest,  an  unlimited  desire  of 
his  favour  and  delight  in  his  fellowship,  habitual  gratitude 
for  his  benefits,  and  a  studious,  practical  conformity  to 
his  moral  character  and  will.  In  a  w^ord,  true  friend- 
ship to  the  Most  High  embraces  his  whole  undivided 
character ;  it  relishes  his  holiness  and  justice  as  well,  as 
his  goodness  ;  it  loves  him  for  his  own  essential  loveli- 
ness as  well,  as  for  his  communicated  benefits. 

If  we  love  God  in  the  manner  now  defined,  we  shall 
naturally  love  his  rational  offspring  for  his  sake,  on  ac- 
count of  their  near  relation  to  him,  and  the  image, 
which  they  bear,  of  his  glorious  perfections.  We  shall 
exercise  benevolence  to  them  from  a  pious  respect  to 
the  example,  the  pleasure,  and  the  honour  of  their  di- 
vine Parent  and  ours,  who  loves  and  does  good  both 
to  us  and  them,  a\  ho  commands  us  to  show  our  affection 
to  him  by  acts  of  kindness  to  them,  and  who  is  greatly 


70  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VI. 

pleased  and  glorified  by  every  effort  to  advance  their  vir- 
tue and  happiness.  Since  benevolence  is  the  nature  and 
beauty  of  God  himself;  since  love  to  him  and  daily  in- 
tercourse with  him  beget  increasing  likeness  to  his  char- 
acter, we  instantly  perceive  that  a  devout  affection  to  the 
Deity  will  soften  and  expand  the  heart  in  godlike  be- 
nevolence, will  kill  a  selfish,  proud,  and  malignant  spir- 
it, and  form  its  possessor  to  a  gentle  and  forgiving,  a  just 
and  fair,  a  sincere  and  faithful,  a  beneficent  and  liberal 
character.  i 

Thus  love  to  God  and  charity  to  our  neighbour  are 
inseparably  united ;  the  one  is  the  sure  basis,  the 
other  the  beautiful  superstructure,  of  universal  good- 
ness. As  he,  who  truly  knov/s  and  regards  his  Maker, 
will  imitate  and  please  him  by  loving  and  seeking  the 
good  of  his  creatures ;  so  he,  who  has  no  proper  affeC' 
tion  to  the  great  Parent,  can  have  no  genuine  love  to  his 
children,  nor  any  commanding  principle  of  social  virtue. 
He,  who  beholds  the  creation  with  the  eyes  of  specula- 
tive or  practical  atheism,  can  see  no  order  nor  beauty  in 
the  system  to  draw  and  bind  his  affections  to  it,  or  to 
give  him  a  lively  and  permanent  interest  in  its  happiness. 
Agreeably,  an  inspired  apostle  assures  us,  that  "  every 
one,  wlio  loveth  him  that  begat,  loveth  him  also,  that  is 
begotten  of  him;"  that  "every  one,  who  loveth  his 
brother,  is  born  of  God,  and  knoweth  God ;  but  he 
that  loveth  not,  knoweth  not  God  ;  for  God  is  love." 

As  charity  to  our  neighbour  thus  grows  out  of  relig- 
ious principle,  so  its  properties  and  fruits  embrace  the 
whole  compass  of  social  duty.  Hence  love  to  man  is 
styled  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  and  the  bond  of  perfectr 
ness ;  because  it  gives  being  and  perfection  to  every 
moral  virtue ;  because  it  unites  and  concentrates  all  so- 
cial duties,  As  all  God's  moral  perfections  and  actions 
are  summed  up  in  love,  as  so  many  different  modifications 


Ser.VI.]  on  christian  charity.  '71 

and  expressions  of  it,  so  all  the  affections  and  offices,  which 
we  owe  to  mankind,  are  included  in  charity.  This 
comprehends,  and  produces,  a  proper  esteem  of  their 
persons  and  stations,  a  virtuous  complacency  in  their 
excellent  quahties,  a  cordial  gratitude  fo^ieir  favours, 
and,  above  all,  a  benevolent  pursuit  of  their  welfare. 
By  uniting-  our  hearts  to  their  interest,  it  makes  us  seek 
and  rejoice  in  it,  as  our  own. 

If  we  would  see  this  generous  virtue  in  its  full  size 
and  beauty,  let  us  minutely  survey  its  several  features, 
as  drawn  by  the  hand  of  inspiration  in  this  chapter. 
"  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;"  that  is,  she  is 
slow  to  resent  injuries,  and  prorppt  to  confer  benefits, 
''  Charity  envieth  not ;"  she  does  not  grieve  at  the  ex- 
cellence or  happiness  of  others.  "  Charity  vaunteth 
not  herself,  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  herself 
unseemly  ;"  that  is,  she  does  not  proudly  feel,  nor  os- 
tentatiously exhibit,  her  own  advantages  ;  nor  treat  with 
Supercilious  airs  those,  \\  ho  are  placed  below  her  ;  but 
her  whole  deportment  is  modest  and  decorous. 
*'  Seeketh  not  her  own  ;"  far  from  moving  in  the  nar- 
row circle  of  self-interest,  she  sacrifices  personal  ease 
and  profit  to  the  general  good.  ^'  Is  not  easily  provok- 
ed ;"  she  not  only  refrains  from  causeless  and  exces- 
sive anger,  but  maintains  a  dignified  composure  even 
under  great  provocations.  "  Thinketh  no  evil ;"  she 
does  not  easily  suspect  evil  of  others,  nor  does  she  wish 
or  contrive  evil  against  them.  "  Rejoiceth  not  in  ini- 
quity;" she  takes  no  pleasure  either  in  the  unjust  ac- 
tions or  sufferings  of  her  neighbour.  "But  rejoiceth 
in  the  truth;"  she  is  delighted  in  beholding  innocence 
vindicated,  and  the  cause  of  truth  and  righteousness 
triumph.  "  Beareth  all  things ;"  that  is,  she  covers 
the  infirmities  and  faults  of  others,  as  far  as  is  possible 
or   safe,  with  the  mantle  of  silence  and  forbearance. 


75  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VI. 

"  Believeth  all  things ;"  that  is,  she  is  ready  to  believe 
as  favourably  as  possible  concerning  every  person  ;  she 
ivill  not  impute  falsehood  or  evil  to  any  without  con- 
vincing evidence.  "  Hopeth  all  things ;  she  will  not 
despair  of  hejftjneighbour's  repentance  and  salvation,  so 
long  as  there  remains  a  possibility  of  his  amendment. 
*'Endureth  all  things;"  she  supports  every  evil  from 
God,  and  every  misfortune  from  men,  with  meekness 
and  equanimity. 

Having  gone  over  this  beautiful  description,  we  must 
stop  a  few  moments  to  observe,  that  several  articles  in 
it  miist  be  understood  in  a  qualified  sense. 

When  charity  is  repiffesented,  as  bearing  and, enduring 
all  things,  this  does  not  imply,  that  the  Christian  spirit 
savours  of  stoical  apathy,  or  of  weak  pusillanimity  ;  that 
it  has  no  feeling  of  calamity,  and  no  resentment  of  inju- 
ry ;  or  that  it  is  wholly  unmoved  by  the  sins  and  dis- 
tresses of  others.  But  the  idea  is,  that  while  Chris- 
tianity, on  some  occasions,  allows  the  sorrowful  and 
even  angry  emotions  of  nature,  it  also  duly  regulates 
and  sooths  them ;  yea,  renders  them  excellent  means 
of  trying  and  maturing  our  virtues,  particularly  our  pa- 
tient resignation  to  God,  and  our  tender,  active  benevo- 
lence to  men. 

Again,  when  charity  is  represented,  as  believing  and 
hoping  all  things,  this  by  no  means  intends  that  Chris- 
tian love  believes  and  hopes  without,  or  even  contrary 
to  reasonable  evidence.  The  charity  of  the  gospel  is 
not  a  blind  and  foolish  principle.  She  does  not  bestow 
her  complacency  on  all  characters,  principles,  and  ac- 
tions without  inquiry  or  discrimination.  She  does  not 
embrace  those  persons,  as  good  men,  whose  avowed 
principles  are  evidendy  suubversive  of  the  faith  and 
hope,  the  morals  and  piety  of  Christians.  Nor  does 
she  admit  to  her  fellowship  tliose  professed  believers. 


Ser.  VI.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  73 

whose  lives  contradict  and  disgrace  their  profession. 
Though  we  are  forbidden  to  judge  the  secrets  of  men's 
hearts,  and  are  bound  to  think  as  favourably  of  them,  as 
their  visible  profession  and  practice  will  allow ;  yet  it  is 
no  violation  of  charity  to  infer  the  badness  of  the  tree 
from  the  corrupt  quality  of  its  fruits.  It  is  an  eternal 
maxim  both  of  reason  and  revelation,  "  By  their  fruits 
ye  shall  know  them."  Those  men  therefore  insult 
both  our  reason  and  religion,  who  lay  claim  to  our 
Christian  charity,  and  require  us  to  believ^e  and  hope 
well  concerning  their  present  character  and  future  well- 
being,  or  who  insist  that  their  hearts  ai-e  good,  v\  hen 
their  outward  conduct  is  immoral  or  impious ;  or  when 
tliey  habitually  and  knowingly  allow  themselves  in 
some  one  forbidden  course,  though  in  other  respects 
they  may  exhibit  a  decent  and  even  amiable  deport- 
ment. 

This  leads  me  to  remark  further,  that  it  is  a  danger, 
ous  idea  of  charity  to  suppose,  that  it  consists  in  a  si- 
lent and  courtly  indulgence  of  those  around  us  in  all 
their  follies  and  vices  ;  that  it  forbids  us  to  give  them 
pain,  or  to  hazard  their  resentment,  by  faithfully  re- 
provmg  their  transgressions,  and  labouring  to  reform 
them.  Christian  love  does  not  obliee  us  to  suffer  and 
bear  all  things  in  such  a  sense,  as  to  tolerate  and  coun- 
tenance those  things,  which  are  evil.  The  same  apos- 
tle, who  gives  us  this  soft  and  tender  description  of 
charity,  was  himself  a  zealous  and  constant  reprover  of 
wickedness.  His  whole  life  and  ministry  were  em- 
ployed in  admonishing  and  converting  a  sinful  world. 
He  tells  us,  that  on  a  certain  occasion  he  publicly  with- 
stood a  fellow-apostle  to  the  face,  when  he  found  him 
worthy  of  blame.  In  a  word,  the  example  of  Christ 
himself,  and  many  express  precepts  both  of  the  Old 
Testament  and  the  New,  require  us  to  show  our  Chris- 


74  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Sbr.  VL 

tian  love  by  rebuking  offenders,  by  seeking  to  recover 
them  to  the  right  path  by  every  effort  of  faithful  and 
prudent  zeal. 

In  fine,  gospel  charity  has  for  its  principal  object  the 
spiritual  and  immortal  interests  of  mankind.  The  real 
Christian,  having  been  deeply  penetrated  with  the  evil 
and  danger  of  sin,  with  the  importance  of  eternal  real- 
ities, with  the  wonders  and  benefits  of  redeeming  love, 
will  desire  above  all  things  that  his  fellow  sinners 
around  him  may  have  the  same  vie^^s,  and  partake  in 
tlie  same  blessings  with  himself.  His  heart  will  echo 
the  generous  language  of  Paul  to  king  Agrippa,  "  I 
would  to  God,  that  not  only  thou,  but  all  that  hear  me, 
were  both  almost  and  altogether  such  as  I  am  ;"  were 
perfectly  acquainted  \\  ith  the  divine  consolations  and 
hopes  of  Christianity. 

Having  largely  explained  the  nature,  let  us  now  con- 
sider the  tra7isceiide?it  i)ahie  of  Christian  love.  The 
apostle  in  this  chapter,  and  the  Bible  at  large,  give  char- 
ity, or  real  internal  goodness,  the  preference  to  all  those 
things,  which  are  most  apt  to  sharm  and  dazzle  man- 
kind J  such  as  religious  ceremonies,  extraordinary  gifts, 
and  even  the  virtues  of  gospel  faith  and  hope.  We 
will  close  our  present  discourse  vv'ith  shewing  the  supe- 
riority of  divine  love  to  ceremonial  duties.  This  supe- 
riority, though  not  expressed,  is  fully  implied  in  the 
passage  before  us. 

The  religion,  ^vhich  God  prescribed  to  the  Jews, 
consisted  in  part  of  positive  institutions,  or  certain  rites, 
which  borrowed  all  their  \'alue  and  force  from  the  will 
of  die  Deity.  Gross  and  superstitious  people  were 
perpetually  inclined  to  rest,  and  even  glory  in  this  class 
of  duties,  as  a  cover  and  compensation  for  the  neglect  of 
inward  piety  and  charitw  But  their  successive  proph- 
ets, and  especially  our  divine  Lord,  constantly  warned 


Ser,  VI.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  75 

them  of  this  dangerous  error.  The  prophet  Micah  in 
particular,  after  declaring  the  insufficiency  of  mere  cere- 
monies to  procure  the  divine  favour,  adds,  "  He  hath 
shewed  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good ;  and  what  doth  the 
Lord  thy  God  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  to  love 
mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God  ?"  Here  jus- 
tice, mercy,  and  practical  piety  are  eminently  styled 
good ;  that  is,  intrinsically,  immutably,  and  eternally 
good,  whereas  the  rites  of  the  Levitical  law  were  good 
only  in  an  occasional  and  instrumental  sense,  or  as  tem- 
porary signs  and  means  of  true  devotion,  righteousness, 
and  charity. 

The  Pharisees  in  our  Saviour's  time  were  very  exact, 
yea,  over  scrupulous  in  observing  the  ceremonies  of  the 
law  ;  yet  Christ  brands  them  as  vile  hypocrites  on  this 
very  account ;  that  is,  because  this  ritual  punctuality  was 
united  with,  and  intended  to  compound  for,  the  neglect 
of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  judgment,  mercy, 
and  the  love  of  God. 

I'he  same  remarks  will  apply  to  the  sacraments  or 
positive  rites  of  Christianity.  They  are  only  signs  and 
instruments  of  love  to  God  and  man  ;  and  if  they  usurp 
the  place  of  this,  they  will  defeat,  instead  of  promoting 
the  end  and  life  of  religion. 

Christian  baptism  is  a  very  significant  and  useful 
rite  ;  but  how  does  it  save  or  profit  us?  Not  by  putting 
away  the  filth  of  the  flesh,  not  by  washing  or  cleansing 
the  bod}-,  but  by  the  answer  or  engagement  of  a  good 
conscience  toward  God ;  that  is,  it  conduces  to  our 
benefit  only,  as  it  binds  and  urges  us  to  real  holiness. 
If  therefore  those,  who  present  themselves  or  their 
children  to  this  ordinance,  do  not  honestly  intend 
and    improve  it  to    this  end,  they  not  only   destroy 


76  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VI. 

its  value,  but  convict  themselves  of  hypocrisy  smd 
perfidy. 

The  Lord's  supper  is  a  most  excellent  institution ;  be- 
cause it  is  not  only  a  most  impressive  renewal  of  our 
baptismal  oath,  but  when  duly  observed  tends  to  enkin- 
dle the  warmest  gratitude  to  God  and  the  Redeemer, 
to  unite  Christians  into  one  aftectionate  family,  to  en- 
gage them  to  a  studious  imitation  of  that  lo^  e,  which 
they  celebrate,  and  thus  to  improve  them  in  universal 
goodness. 

Christian  love  and  its  practical  fruits  are  therefore  the 
end  and  soul  of  these  sacraments.  If  we  do  not  sin- 
cerely use  them,  as  signs  and  instruments  of  tliis  hea- 
venly temper,  we  and  our  religious  profession  are  noth- 
ing ;  we  contradict,  defeat  and  disgrace  these  holy  ordi- 
nances, and  thus  pervert  appointed  means  of  good  into 
engines  of  unspeakable  guilt  and  mischief,  both  to  our- 
selves and  others.  It  appears,  then,  that  no  relig-? 
ious  rites  have  any  value  compared  with,  or  separate 
from  Love. 


H 


Sermon  vir. 
On  Christian  Charity. 


1  Cor.  xiii.  13. 
•The  greatest  of  these  is  charity^ 


.AVING  described  the  nature  of  charity,  and 
shown  its  superiority  to  ceremonial  duties,  we  proceed 
secondly  to  prove,  that  it  is  also  greater  than  the  most 
splendid  and  even  miraculous  gifts. 

The  apostle  in  this  chapter  enumerates  some  of  the 
extraordinary  powers,  which  were  conferred  on  the  first 
preachers,  and  many  of  the  first  disciples  of  our  religion  ; 
such  as  the  gift  of  tongues,  of  prophecy,  of  understand- 
ing mysteries,  and  of  working  miracles.  But  these 
gifts,  though  more  dazzling,  are  far  inferior  to  the  low- 
est degree  of  divine  love.  For  the  latter  is  a  vital  and 
transforming  principle,  which  imparts  to  its  possessor  a 
new  and  divine  nature,  a  permanent  and  excellent  char- 
acter ;  but  the  former  may  be  styled  adventitious  ac- 
complishments, which  do  not  penetrate  and  sanctify  the 
heart,  but  when  bestowed  on  a  vicious  man,  leave  him 
as  unholy  and  wicked  as  before  ;  as  in  the  case  of  Ba- 
laam, Judas,  and  others,  whose  miraculous  gifts  qual- 
ified them  to  edify  others,  but  did  not  meliorate  their 
own  characters. 

The  spirit  of  love  is  a  peculiar  mark  and  seal  of 
God's  favourite  children,  and  a  sure  pledge  of  future 
happiness.  But  the  greatest  gifts  are  often  dispensed  to 
the  heirs  of  perdition.     Agreeably,  Christ  tells  us  that 


78  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VIL 

many,  who  have  prophesied  in  his  name,  and  done  ma, 
ny  M^onderful  works,  shall  be  rejected  at  last  among  the 
workers  of  iniquity. 

We  may  add,  that  gifts  the  most  distinguished  must 
ere  long  fail,  but  love  will  last  forever.  As  the  apostle 
enlarges  on  this  idea,  in  order  to  show  the  pre-emi- 
nence of  love,  we  will  be  somewhat  particular  in  the  iU 
lustration  of  it. 

"Charity,"  says  he,  "never  faileth;  but  whether 
there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail ;  whether  there  be 
tongues,  they  shall  cease  ;  whether  there  be  knowledge, 
it  shall  vanish  away."  These  miraculous  gifts  were 
soon  to  cease  from  the  church,  because  the  occasion  of 
them  was  temporary.  When  the  evidence  of  them  was 
once  completed,  the  whole  canon  of  Scripture  finished 
and  widely  dispersed,  the  gospel  fully  propagated,  and 
the  church  of  Christ  enlarged  and  firmly  established ; 
the  extraordinary  manifestation  of  the  Spirit  was  no 
longer  needed,  and  therefore  was  withdrawn.  But 
charity  was  never  to  withdraw  itself  from  the  bosom  of 
the  church,  or  the  hearts  of  her  real  members.  The 
obligation,  necessity,  and  advantage  of  love  are  perpet- 
ual. The  honour  of  God  and  his  Son,  the  comfort, 
strength,  and  glory  of  Zion,  the  successful  propagation 
of  Christian  truth  in  the  surrounding  v.  orld,  must  ever 
depend  upon  the  culture  of  this  divine  temper.  Then^ 
and  only  then,  does  the  church  of  Christ  appear  a  glo- 
rious fabric,  when  love  cements  its  several  parts,  and 
diffuses  itself  through  the  whole.  When  the  edifice  of 
the  church  was  once  raised,  extraordinary  gifts,  like  the 
scaffolding  of  the  building,  were  taken  away  ;  but  char- 
ity, being  an  essential  part,  a  main  pillar  as  well,  as  the 
mpst  delightful  ornament  of  the  structure,  must  still  re- 
main to  beautify  and  support  it. 


Ser.vii.]       on  chexstian  charity,  7^ 

As  love  can  never  fail  in  the  church  on  earth,  so  it 
■xtill  always  live  in  the  New  Jerusalem  above.  There, 
the  extraordinary  gifts  of  the  apostolic  age  will  not  be 
needed,  but  will  be  lost  forever  in  the  perfect  light  of  heav- 
en, as  the  twinkling  stars  vanish  before  the  rising  sun. 
"  Now,"  says  the  apostle,  "  we  know  in  part ;  but  when 
that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  \\  liich  is  in  part 
shall  be  done  away.  For  now  we  Siee  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  then  face  to  face ;  now  I  know  iii  part,  but 
then  shall  I  know  even  as  I  alsQ  am  known;"  that  is^ 
I  shall  know  myself  and  superior  beings,  shall  know  God 
and  his  works,  in  a  manner  so  direct  and  intuitive,  in  a 
degree  so  perfect  and  elevated,  that  my  present  knowl- 
edge, though  aided  by  miraculous  inspiration,  is  childish 
folly,  yea,  darkness  in  the  comparison. 

In  consequence  of  this  perfect  knowledge,  love  shall 
never  fail,  but  grow  and  expand  to  eternity.  The  glor 
rified  Chi'istian  will  love  his  Master  and  Redeemer  with 
an  ai*4pur  and  strength  equal  to  his  knowledge.  As  he 
will  never  cease  for  a  moment  to  exert  and  enlarge  hi^ 
understanding  upon  the  divine  perfections ;  so  his  ad- 
miring and  devout  affection  to  this  infinite  object  will 
ever  keep  pace  with  this  constant  exertion  and  improve- 
ment of  his  understanding.  At  the  same  time  the  unceas- 
ing complacential  smiles  and  beatific  communications  of 
Qod  to  him  will  call  forth  his  highest,  his  perpetual  ef- 
forts oi^  gratitude  and  praise.  With  what  affectionate 
rapture  will  he  behold  th,£;  glory^  and  enjoy  the  society^ 
of  his  exalted  Redeemer  !  How  will  he  gaze  on  that  bo- 
loved  and  majestic  face,  which  was  once  torn  with  thorns 
and  pale  with  death,  but  is  now  arrayed  in  divine  beau- 
ty and  splendour !  With  '^^  l^at  tender,  yet  awful  affection 
will  he  behold  the  marks  of  those  sufferings,  and  of  that 
}pve,  which  procured  his  salvation  I 


^0  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VII. 

The  saints  in  glory,  being  thus  united  to  God  by  per- 
fect knowledge  and  love,  will  of  coufse  be  united  to  one 
another  in  fervent  charity.  Their  perfect  knowledge  of 
the  truth  and  of  each  other's  characters  will  forever  ban- 
ish  those  mistakes  and  divided  opinions,  M^hich  in  this 
world  so  frequently  produce  mutual  shiness,  alienation, 
and  injurious  treatment.  The  celestial  community  will 
not,  like  eaithly  societies,  be  composed  of  members, 
possessing  jarring  sentiments,  dispositions,  and  charac- 
ters. Each  member  of  that  fraternity  will  fully  know 
and  appreciate  every  excellent  quality,  possessed  by  any 
other  member.  He  will  also  perceive  the  near  and  in- 
separable union,  which  eveiy  one  bears  to  the  Deity.  Of 
course  he  will  feel  himself  linked  to  every  fellow  mem- 
ber, and  to  the  whole,  by  the  most  endearing  ties  of 
friendship  and  benevolence. 

As  the  maturity  of  knowledge,  so  the  perfect  rectitude 
of  will  and  of  moral  character  among  the  blessed,  will 
exalt  and  perpetuate  their  charity.  This  divine  affection 
will  never  be  checked  or  interrupted  by  inferior  and 
opposing  passions.  The  pure  love  of  holiness,  filling 
every  heart,  will  unite  each  member  to  his  holy  and  per- 
fect associates,  and,  above  all,  to  that  Being,  who  is  the 
source  and  sum  of  moral  rectitude  and  beauty. 

The  complete  happiness  of  glorified  saints  will  also 
nourish  the  flame  of  their  charity.  As  the  capacity  of 
each  one  M'ill  be  perfectly  filled  ^^•ith  joy,  he  will  of 
course  delight  in  the  felicity  of  all  his  partners  in  bliss. 
There  will  be  no  room  for  jealousy  or  envj^,  in  a  state^ 
where  every  one  possesses  as  much  honour  and  blessed- 
ness, as  his  faculties  can  receive.  We  find  in  the  pres- 
ent world,  diat  when  a  man  feels  truly  happy  in  him- 
self, his  heart  naturally  overflows  with  benevolence  to 
others.  What  then  may  be  expected  in  the  region  of 
complete  and  universal  happiness  ?   How  naturally  will 


Ser.  VII.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  81 

the  spirits  of  the  blessed  inhabitants  mingle  with  one 
another,  and  each  individual  enjoy  the  transports  of  every 
kindred  spirit,  and  the  common  felicity  of  the  whole  I 
With  what  pure  and  ever  growing  delight  will  they 
unite  their  hearts  and  voices,  both  in  conversation  and 
in  praise  ?  With  what  sacred  friendship  will  they  con- 
template, promote,  and  rejoice  in  each  other's  perfection 
and  blessedness ! 

Well  therefore  may  charity  be  ranked  above  the 
greatest  gifts,  since  it  not  only  infinitely  excels  them  ia 
point  of  duration,  but  forms  the  principal  happiness  and 
glory  of  celestial  beings.     It  remains  diat  we  shew, 

In  the  ?/?f replace,  that  love  is  superior  even  to  Christian 
Jak/i  and  hope.  Though  these  are  far  more  valuable, 
than  even  the  extraordinary  communications  of  the  Spir- 
it ;  though  they  are  essential  and  abiding  graces  in  the 
church  below  ;  yet  in  real  worth  and  duration  they  must 
yield  to  charity. 

By  faith  is  intended  a  firm  and  vital  belief  of  the 
truths  of  the  gospel ;  and  by  hope,  a  well  grounded  and 
joyful  expectation  of  its  promised  blessings.  Both  these 
graces  are  indispensably  necessary,  and  highly  beneficial, 
in  this  state  of  imperfection  and  trial,  while  the  Chris- 
tian remains  at  a  distance  from  the  great  Object  of  his 
expected  felicity.  In  such  a  situation  he  necessarily 
walks  by  faith,  and  lives  upon  hope.  Both  his  character 
and  comfort  are  sustained  and  nourished  by  these  vir- 
tues :  yet  still  faith  and  hope,  strictly  speaking,  are  but 
temporary  graces.  For  where  vision  begins,  faith  ends. 
Agreeably,  faith  and  sight  are  opposed  to  each  other. 
Hope  is  also  confined  to  this  state  of  imperfection,  and 
implies  that  its  object  is  not  fully  seen  and  enjoyed ; 
**  for,'*  as  the  apostle  reasons,  "  what  a  man  seeth,  why 
doth  he  yet  hope  for  ?"  Complete  fruition  will  therefore 
put  a  final  period  to  hope.     At  least,  neither  of  these  two 


g^  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.VH. 

graces  can  exist  in  the  same  mode,  or  have  the  same 
use,  in  a  world  of  perfect  knowledge  and  enjoyment, 
which  they  possess  in  the  present  state.  But  it  is  the 
prerogativeof  charity  to  derive  new  and  immortal  vigom* 
fiom  that  very  sight  and  fruition,  in  which  these  other 
graces  are  forever  lost. 

I  must  also  add,  tliat  "w  hile  these  virtues  continue,  love 
still  has  the  pre-eminence ;  for  faith,  considered  as  dis- 
tinct from  charity,  is  an  act  or  accomplishment  of  the 
imderstanding ;  but  love  is  a  ^'ital  principle  of  the  heart. 
Mere  faith  may  exist  in  hypocrites,  yea  in  devils ;  but 
charity  forms  the  main  characteristic  of  holy  and  virtuous 
beings.  I  grant  that  faith  is  often  represented  in  the 
gospel,  as  the  root  of  moral  and  Christian  excellence,  as 
the  medium  of  a  saving  union  to  and  interest  in  the  Re- 
deemer ;  as  the  gi-eat  condition  of  the  sinner's  justification 
and  eternal  happiness.  But  when  faith  is  thus  described 
and  extolled,  it  always  intends  a  belief  of  the  heart  as 
well,  as  of  the  head,  and  is  accordingly  expressed  by 
phrases,  which  denote  a  cordial  and  practical  affection  to 
Christ  as  well,  as  a  speculative  assent  to  his  doctrines. 
No  person  can  truly  receive  Christ,  come  to  him,  trust 
and  rejoice  in  him,  or  in  one  word,  comply  with  his 
method  of  salvation,  without  sincerely  loving  his  charac- 
ter and  requirements.  So  far  therefore  as  our  faith  is 
truly  virtuous  and  saving,  it  is  love,  which  makes  and 
proves  it  to  be  so.  Accordingly,  faith,  without  love  and 
corresponding  obedience,  is  declared  to  be  unprofitable 
and  dead. 

Hope  likewise  is  no  further  a  Christian  grace,  than 
it  implies  and  nourishes  a  spirit  of  charity.  Without 
this,  it  is  a  merely  selfish  passion,  which  terniinates  its 
desires  and  expectations  in  personal  happiness.  It  be- 
comes a  gospel  virtue  only,  when  it  delights  in  God, 
and  expects  its  ultimate  blessedness  in  him  ;  when  it  af- 


Ser.  VII.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  83 

fectionately  anticipates  the  heavenly  felicity,  as  the  fruit 
and  crown  of  present  holiness,  as  mainly  consisting  in 
the  perfect  exercises  and  joys  of  virtuous  love  ;  and  as 
embracing  the  consummate  happiness  of  all  its  fellow 
saints,  united  with  the  highest  glory  of  God  and  his 
Son ;  and  when  these  generous  prospects  expand  the 
heart  with  the  best  affections  toward  God  and  man. 

As  love  is  thus  the  life  of  Christian  faith  and  hope,  so 
it  is  their  designed  end  and  perfection.  The  main  use 
of  the  two  latter  is  to  invigorate  and  mature  the  former. 
When  man  by  sin  had  lost  the  image  of  God,  consist- 
ing in  love,  and  of  course  was  cut  off  from  his  favour,  a 
revelation  of  divine  mercy  was  needful  for  his  recovery. 
By  believing  and  hoping  in  this  merciful  revelation,  the 
guilty  offender  is  encouraged  and  allured  to  return  to 
God  by  filial  love  and  obedience,  and  thus  the  work  of 
charity,  or  real  holiness,  is  gradually  perfected  in  his 
nature.  As  love  therefore  is  the  end  of  divine  revela- 
tion, and  indeed  the  end  and  substance  of  all  religion, 
so  faith  and  hope  are  means  to  this  end.  Their  office 
and  glory  consist  in  being  handmaids  to  charity ;  and 
when  they  have  reared  her  to  maturity,  and  conducted 
her  to  the  door  of  her  appointed  celestial  habitation, 
they  will  resign  their  employment  and  existence  forever. 

W^c  might  further  remark,  that  the  immediate  object 
and  fruit  of  charity  far  excel  those  of  the  two  other  vir- 
tues. The  object  of  virtuous  love  is  the  universe,  in- 
cluding the  Creator  and  all  his  rational  creatures.  Its 
fruit  is  the  greatest  public  good,  which  it  has  power  to 
produce.  It  directly  seeks  and  promotes  the  common 
happiness.  It  immediately  forms  the  generous,  active 
friend,  patriot,  and  philanthropist.  But  mere  faith  and 
hope  are  private  virtues,  which  more  immediately  re- 
gard and  secure  personal  benefit. 

R 


S4  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.  VII. 

Finally,  the  crowning  pre-eminence  of  love  is,  that  it 
directly  assimilates  and  unites  the  soul  to  its  Maker. 
"  God  is  love."  This  characterizes  his  whole  nature 
and  conduct.  His  wisdom  is  but  enlightened  benevo- 
lence, planning  the  best  means  of  extensive  good.  His 
power  is  but  the  energy  of  love,  giving  full  effect  to 
these  means.  His  truth  is  the  sincerity  and  constancy 
of  goodness.  His  holiness  is  but  pure  and  comprehen- 
sive love,  steadily  regarding  and  pursuing  the  order 
and  virtuous  felicity  of  the  moral  system.  His  govern- 
ing justice,  even  as  exercised  in  threatening,  chastising, 
and  finally  punishing  sin,  like  that  of  good  parents  and 
rulers,  secures  the  obedience  and  happiness  of  the 
whole,  by  needful  warnings,  by  terrible,  but  wholesome 
examples.  In  short,  it  was  infinite  love,  vi^hich  made 
and  redeemed,  which  supports  and  rules  the  world. 
That  soul,  therefore,  which  is  animated  with  holy  love, 
possesses,  according  to  its  capacity,  the  image  and  life, 
the  blessedness  and  glory  of  God  himself.  In  the  sub- 
lime language  of  inspiration,  it  is  filled  with  all  the  ful- 
ness of  God ;  it  dwells  in  God,  and  God  in  it ;  it  is 
one  with  God  and  with  Christ,  as  he  and  his  Father  are 
one.  But  the  two  other  Christian  graces,  though  very 
necessary  in  imperfect  creatures,  yet  do  not  so  directly 
assimilate  them  to  their  Creator ;  for  there  are  no  quali- 
ties in  God,  which  resemble  faith  and  hope  in  man ; 
tlife  perfect  knowledge  and  happiness  of  Deity  exclude 
from  his  nature  the  existence  of  both. 

As  our  subject  is  in  its  own  nature  practical,  there  is 
less  need  of  a  formal  application.  We  shall  there- 
fore close  with  a  few  short  inferences,  founded  upon  its 
leading  branches. 

If  charity  be  superior  to  ceremonial  institutions,  let 
us  ever  regard  and  improve  them  accordingly.  Let  us 
perform  the  duties  of  private  and  public  worship,  as 


Se».  VII.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  85 

expressions  and  instruments  of  real  goodness.     Let  us 
never  think  there  is  any  virtue  in  the  mere  formality  of 
devotion ;  much  less  in  using  it,  as  a  compensation  or 
license  for  the  want  or  the  violation  of  charity.     Prayer 
without   good  affections   and   good    works  is  a  vain, 
yea  a   polluted  sacrifice.      It  is  remarkable  that  the 
main  spirit   of  our  Lord's  prescribed   pattern   of  de- 
votion    breathes    and    enforces   pious     and    virtuous 
affection.     By  teaching   us   to   call    God   our  Father, 
it  inculcates  filial  love   and  conformity   to   him,   and 
brotherly  affection  to  all  his  children.     By  instructing 
us  to  pray  for  the  universal  sanctification  of  his  name, 
extension  of  his  kingdom,  and  fulfilment  of  his  will,  it 
forcibly  inculcates  not  only  piety,  but  umversal  benev- 
olence.    By  obliging  us  to  profess  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries, it  binds  us  to  lov<e  and  do  good  even  to  enemies, 
and  thus  to  be  perfect,  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  per- 
fect.    How  deplorably  then  is  the  duty  of  prayer  de- 
feated and  perverted,  if  instead  of  sincerely  expressing 
and  promoting  a  spirit  of  universal  goodness,  it  nour- 
ishes sour  bigotry,  malignant,  superstition,  pharisaical 
pride,  sordid  selfishness ;  or  encourages  us  to  omit  sub- 
stantial moral  duties !  Let  us  then  worship  God  in  se- 
cret and  with  our  families,  let  us  observe  the  Sabbath 
and  attend  the  peculiar  ordinances  of  our  religion,  with 
a  leading  desire  to  attain  the  great  end  of  these  duties. 
Let  us  not  despise  or  neglect  these  institutions,  because 
some  others  attend  them  in  a  useless  or  hypocritical 
manner.     Let  us  remember,  that  in  the  present  state  of 
man,  and  by  the  wise  appointment  of  God,  these  ob- 
servances are  indispensable  symbols,  guards,  and  pro- 
jnoters  both  of  virtue  and  piety. 

Again.  If  charity  be  greater  than  even  miraculous 
gifts,  this  should  prevent  our  indulging  envy  or  discon- 
tent on  account  of  our  inferiority  to  the  primitive  Chris= 


86  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  [Ser.  VIL 

tians  in  respect  of  these  extraordinary  communications. 
It  should  aAA-aken  our  j^ratitude  and  joy  to  reflect  that, 
though  we  are  denied  these  vouchsafements,  which  are 
now  unnecessary,  we  may  still  possess  that  real  good- 
ness, which  is  the  principal  thing.  The  most  weak 
and  illiterate  true  Christian  may  well  be  contented  and 
joyful,  when  he  considers,  that  though  he  wants  those 
splendid  gifts  of  nature  and  science,  which  adorn  some 
characters  around  him,  he  possesses  something  infinite^ 
ly  more  noble  and  happy  ;  that  he  is  far  greater  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  of  all  good  judges,  than  the  most  fa- 
voured son  of  genius  and  learning,  who  is  a  stranger  to 
Christian  virtue.  Persons  of  the  highest  intellectual  ac-. 
complishments  ha^'e  also  great  reason  for  humility  and 
candour,  when  they  consider,  that  some  of  their  most 
obscure  neighbours  or  meanest  domestics  may  proba- 
bly excel  them  in  that  goodness,  which  constitutes  real 
greatness. 

Finally.  If  charity  be  so  far  superior  even  to  gospel 
faith  and  hope,  let  none  of  us  rest  in  any  appearance  of  the 
two  latter,  to  the  neglect  of  the  former.  Let  us  remem- 
ber, that  the  most  orthodox  faith  will  only  condemn  us, 
if  our  hearts  and  lives  contradict  and  disgrace  it ;  that  a 
zealous  profession  of  the  doctrines  of  evangelical  grace 
and  holiness  will  only  convict  us  of  odious  inconsistence 
and  hypocrisy,  and  enhance  our  future  punishment,  if 
we  practically  exhibit  an  ungracious  and  unholy  dis- 
position. 

Let  us,  on  the  one  hand,  avoid  the  dangerous  ex- 
treme of  exalting  charity  on  the  ruins  of  faith ;  or  of 
supposing  it  a  matter  of  indifference  whether  we  believe 
the  gospel  or  not,  if  we  are  but  candid,  decent,  and 
blameless  in  our  lives.  As  a  guard  against  this  error, 
let  us  remember  that  a  man's  real  character  is  mainly 
formed  by  his  prevailing  belief;  that  the  gospel,  and 


Ser.  VII.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY.  87 

faith  in  it  are  the  instruments  appointed  by  God  for  re- 
covering us  to  real  goodness  ;  that  if  we  reject  this  di- 
vine rehgion,  we  not  only  lose  its  offered  blessings  and 
incur  its  threatened  punishment,  but  prove  ourselves 
destitute  of  that  charity,  which  we  fondly  substitute  in 
its  room. 

But  while  we  profess  to  believe  and  hope  in  the  gos- 
pel, let  us  justify  our  profession  by  its  fruits.  Let  our 
Christian  knowledge,  belief,  and  hope,  produce  and 
nourish  Christian  love,  with  all  its  benign  and  happy  ef- 
fects. Let  us  embrace  in  the  arms  of  our  charity  every 
professed  believer,  who  appears  to  love  God  and  his 
neighbour,  even  though  his  creed,  or  his  hope,  be  not  so 
correct  or  so  stable  as  our  own.  By  cherishing  in  our- 
selves and  in  all  around  us  this  heavenly  temper,  let  us 
endeavour  to  make  the  Christian  church  on  earth  re- 
semble, as  nearly  as  possible,  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
In  this  way,  let  us  be  ripening  for  that  world,  where  our 
present  imperfect  gifts  and  graces  shall  be  lost  or  com- 
pleted in  perfect  light,  enjoyment,  and  charity. 


Sermon  viiif 


On  the  Vices  of  the  Tongue. 


James  iii.  8. 

But  the  tongue  can  no  wan  tame ;  it  is  an  unruly  evil^  full 
of  deadly  poison. 

HE  apostle  in  this  chapter  gives  a  Uvely  represen- 
tation of  the  unbounded  guilt  and  mischief  produced  by 
the  tongue.  He  compares  the  mighty  and  extensive 
influence  of  this  little  member  to  that  of  bits  in  the 
mouth  of  the  horse,  of  the  small  helm,  which  com- 
mands the  greatest  ships,  and  of  a  little  fire  spreading 
into  a  devouring  flame. 

These  similies  are  equally  just  and  strong.  For  as 
the  tongue,  when  duly  governed,  like  a  bridle  or  a 
helm,  has  a  beneficent  and  commanding  influence  on 
the  whole  body,  or  on  the  general  course  of  human  ac- 
tion ;  so  a  tongue  loosened  from  moral  restraint  leads 
to  dreadful  consequences,  resembling  those  of  giving 
the  reins  to  the  unbroken  steed,  of  neglecting  ihe.  rud- 
der in  the  midst  of  rocks  and  tempests,  or  of  letting  a 
fire  rage  uncontrolled  amid  a  large  collection  of  com- 
bustible materials.  Having  previously  observed,  that 
the  most  fierce  and  venomous  brutes  have  been  tamed 
by  mankind,  he  adds,  in  the  text;  "But  the  tongue 
can  no  man  tame  ;"  that  is,  either  no  man  can  subdue 
his  own  tongue  in  a  perfect  manner,  or  by  his  own  in- 
dependent ]Dower  and  skill ;  or  none  can  tame  the  licen- 
tious lips  of  others,  so  as  entirely  to  check  the  breath  of 


Ser.  VIII.]      THE  VICES  OF  THE  TONGUE.  qq 

slander  and  falsehood,  of  obscenity  and  profaneness. 
"It  is  an  unruly  evil,"  which  breaks  over  the  strongest 
barriers — "  full  of  deadly  poison;"  ever  ready  to  infect 
and  kill  the  reputation,  virtue,  and  comfort  of  all  within 
its  reach. 

The  words  thus  explained  lead  us  to  enumerate  and 
reprove  the  most  common  and  glaring-  instances  of  this 
unruly  and  destructive  evil.  Though  the  apostle  tells 
us  that  no  man  can  tame  it,  this  should  not  discourage 
the  friends  and  teachers  of  religion  from  attempting  the 
necessary,  though  arduous  task ;  for  with  God  all  things 
are  possible ;  he  has  commanded  us  to  warn  the  wick- 
ed ;  and  he  often  blesses  his  own  institutions  for  the 
conversion  of  his  enemies  as  well,  as  the  edification  of 
his  friends. 

The  most  prevalent  and  pernicious  examples  of  an 
ungoverned  tongue  are  those,  v»^hich  follow. 

First.     Profane  discourse.      This   comprehends  an 
unmeaning,  irreverent,  or  wanton  use  of  the  name  of 
God,  on  trivial  occasions ;  to  embellish  the  sallies  of 
wit ;  to  give  expression  and  force  to  the  vehemence  of 
passion  ;  to  add  new  credit  to  assertions  or  promises ; 
to  impress  awe  and  submission  on  servants  or  inferiors  ; 
or  to  display  a  spirit  of  independence,  and  a  superiority 
to  vulgar  superstition.     It  also  includes  that  more  timid 
or  implied  profanity,  which,  though  restrained  by  law, 
or  by  character,  by  some  regard  to  friends  or  to  con- 
science, from  explicit  irreverence  or  imprecation,  is  yet 
fond  of  lisping  or  abridging  the  language  of  impiety,  and 
often  steps  on  the  borders  of  an  oath,  by  transgressing 
the  limits  of  simple  affirmation  or  denial !  Are  there  any 
tongues  in  this  assembly,   which  answer  to  either  of 
these   descriptions?   I  must  faithfully  admonish  their 
owners,  that  they  possess  and  are  diffusing  a  poisonous 
and  destructive  evil.     Their  profane  conversation  is  a 


90  ON  THE  VICES  [Saa.  VIII. 

dishonour  to  themselves,  aii  injury  to  their  compan- 
ions, an  outrage  to  society,  and  an  affront  to  their  Maker. 

It  is  a  dishonour  to  themselves,  as  it  proclaims  both 
their  folly  and  rudeness.  It  certainly  discovers  a  fool- 
ish and  empty  mind  to  introduce  the  most  awful  names 
and  protestations  to  sanction  trifles,  to  supply  the  want 
of  sentiment,  or  to  fill  up  the  gaps  of  discourse.  This 
practice  is  also  foolish,  as  it  has  no  plausible  motive  or 
excuse.  It  gratifies  no  constitutional  appetite  or  pas- 
sion. It  procures  no  advantage,  pleasure,  or  glory. 
It  displays  no  politeness  or  liberality.  On  the  contrary, 
it  offends  all  decent  company  by  its  coarseness  and  bar- 
barity. It  insults  the  feelings,  sentiments,  and  institu- 
tions of  civilized  men,  but  especially  the  religion  and 
laws  of  every  Christian  community.  It  operates  as  a 
mortal  pestilence  to  society  by  corrupting  its  moral  and 
religious  character,  and  thus  subverting  its  order  and 
welfare,  and  drawing  down  upon  it  the  curse  of  Heaven. 
It  is  a  deadly  poison  both  to  the  state  and  the  church  by 
gradually  extinguishing  all  reverence  for  the  oaths  of  the 
fonner,  and  the  sacred  institutions  of  the  latter. 

The  profane  swearer  likewise  unspeakably  injures  his 
associates,  by  depraA'ing  their  moral  faculties  and  feel- 
ings, or  by  lightly  uttering  against  them  the  most  dread- 
ful imprecations.  He  also  commits  practical  suicide, 
either  by  directly  T\ishing  die  curse  of  God  on  his  own 
head,  or  by  boldly  challenging  his  almighty  vengeance. 
He  offers  the  greatest  abuse  to  the  name  and  attributes 
of  Deity,  by  making  them  the  expletives,  the  ornaments, 
or  the  attestations  of  e\'ery  wanton  or  passionate  effu- 
sion. He  virtually  and  openly  abjures  his  Christian 
baptism,  and  proclaims  himself  an  infidel  and  a  heathen. 
Agreeably,  when  Peter  was  cliarged  with  being  a  dis- 
ciple of  Jesus,  he  in  the  hour  of  trial  resorted  to  cursing 
and  swearing,  as  a  confutation  of  the  charge.     By  this 


ser.  vtil]  of  the  tongue.  91 

kind  of  speech,  so  opposite  to  the  known  practice  of 
Christ's  followers,  he  effectually  denied  his  blessed  Mas- 
ter. I  have  heard  of  young  men  in  our  own  country, 
who  having  enjoyed  a  Cliristian  education,  and  being  re- 
moved from  the  eye  and  authority  of  pious  parents  and 
friends,  have  eagerly  adopted  the  same  method  to  con- 
vince their  new  associates  of  their  sudden  triumph  over 
early  prejudice  and  bigotry  !  Let  these  united  consid- 
erations prevail  to  banish  from  our  discourse,  from 
our  houses  and  our  streets,  this  most  foolish,  inex- 
cusable and  detestable  vice.  Let  none  plead  the  force 
of  habit  as  an  excuse  for  continuing  it.  Those,  who 
are  most  addicted  to  it,  can  easily  refrain  from  com- 
mitting it  in  the  presence  of  a  fellow  being,  whom  they 
respect.  Shall  not  the  constant  presence  of  God  have 
equal  effect?  The  most  abandoned  swearer  would  in- 
stantly renounce  the  practice,  were  he  sure  of  losing  his 
prostituted  tongue  the  next  time  it  uttered  an  oath. 
And  shall  not  the  threatening  of  a  far  greater  punish- 
ment from  the  insulted  Majesty  of  heaven  have  equal 
force  in  reforming  offenders  ?  Let  none  shelter  them- 
selves under  the  authority  of  modern  example.  Bless- 
ed be  God,  profaneness  is  not  the  fashionable  style  of 
New  England.  It  is  only  the  dialect  of  the  most  uncul- 
tivated, stupid,  or  profligate  citizens.  Let  us  scorn 
both  the  society  and  manners  of  such  low  beings,  and 
aspire  to  the  fellowship  and  imitation  of  those  excellent 
ones  of  the  eai'th,  who  reverence,  love,  and  obey  their 

Creator. 

IL  A  Second  evil  of  the  tongue  is  scoffing  at  religion, 
or  ridiculing  her  sacred  doctrines  and  institutions. 
Those  who  practically  neglect,  or  secretly  hate  and  de- 
spise Christianity,  frequently  resort  to  this  practice  in 
their  own  defence,  and  as  an  easy  and  striking  method 


92  ON  THE  VICES  [Ser.  Vril. 

of  proving  their  superior  wit,  information,  or  liberality. 
As  they  are  determined  to  disregard  religion  in  their 
conduct,  they  naturally  employ  their  tongues  in  justify- 
ing  this   determination.     They  seek    to  prcser^'e   and 
strengtl-icn  their  own  character  and  ti'anquillity  by  gain- 
ing over  their  companions  to  the  side  of  irreligion  :  and 
since  they  cannot  effect  these  purposes  by  argument, 
they  sup])ly  the  want  of  reason  by  the  cheaper  commod- 
ities of  banter  and   ridicule.       It  is   needless  to  em- 
ploy much  time   in  exposing  tliis   vile  prostitution   of 
speech.     That  mouth,  which  reviles  or  scoffs  at  sacred 
things,    is  eminently  entitled  to  ever}-  part  of  the  de- 
scription, here  given  of  an  unruly  tongue.    "  It  is  a  fire,  a 
^vorld  of  iniquity  ;  it  sctteth  on  fire  the  course  of  nature^ 
and  is  set  on  fire  of  hell."     It  is  truly  full  of  deadly  poi- 
son ;  for  it  is  prompted  by  a  mind  fraught  w  ith  harden- 
ed impiety  and  malignity.     It  employs  the  most  unfair 
and  wicked  means  to  accomplish  the  worst  end.     It  dif- 
fuses the  most  fatal  and  lasting   evils.     It  poisons  the 
s^irings  of  human  action  and  comfort.     It  directly  in- 
sults God,  and  corrupts  his  rational  creatures.     It  does 
the  greatest  injury  to  religion  and  moralit}',  and  the  high- 
est ser\ice  to  falsehood  and  wickedness.     The  person, 
v^ho  derides  serious  things,  must  be  responsible  at  last, 
not  only  for  his  personal  guilt,  but  for  all  that  depravity 
of  principle  and  conduct,  which  his  infectious  conversa- 
tion has  propagated  to  others. 

III.'  A  lying  tongue  is  also  an  unruly  and  destructive 
evil.  The  Bible,  and  indeed  the  most  approved  sjs- 
tems  of  ethics  condemn  every  species  of  intentional 
falsehood.  Lying  is  an  offence  against  the  God  of 
truth.  It  is  a  perversion  of  the  noble  gift  of  speech. 
It  violates  the  chief  bond  of  social  confidence,  security, 
and  order.  Hence  both  God  and  man  have  ranked  liars 
amono:  the    most   criminal    and   infamous   characters. 


Ser.viii.3         of  the  tongue.  93 

Thev  are  classed  in  the  Scripture  with  whoremongers 
and  murderers,  and  doomed  to  the  same  future  punish- 
ment. Are  tliere  any  in  this  audience,  to  whom  this 
character  belongs  ;  any  who  in  their  bargains  and  deal- 
ings either  magnify  things  abo^^e,  or  depreciate  them 
below  their  known  value,  or  in  any  other  respect  devi- 
ate from  the  truth,  for  the  sake  of  worldly  ad\'antage ; 
who,  when  questioned  by  superiors,  deny,  extenuate,  or 
conceal  facts,  Mhich  the  sacred  laws  of  truth,  and  the 
general  good,  oblige  tlieni  to  reveal ;  who  in  their  en- 
comiums knowingly  ascribe  to  themselves  or  others 
greater  talents  or  acquirements,  virtue,  or  performances, 
than  they  are  warranted  by  truth  to  do,  or,  in  their  cen- 
sures put  false  or  aggravated  constructions  on  the  words 
and  actions  of  their  neighbour  ;  v^ho  in  their  promises 
engage  to  pay  a  debt,  perform  a  ^ork,  or  to  do  a  kind- 
ness, when  they  either  do  not  mean,  or  have  not  power 
to  fulfil  such  engagement,  or  take  no  after  care  either  to 
perform  their  promise,  or  seasonably  to  give  notice  of 
their  inability  ;  or  lastly,  who  in  their  common  narra- 
tives utter  fiction  or  exaggeration  in  the  room  of  fact, 
or  deliver  positi\-e  assertions,  which  are  unjustified  or 
contradicted  by  their  oun  knowledge  or  persuasion ? 
All,  ^vho  are  guilty  in  either  of  these  particulars,  com- 
mit a  high  oftence  against  God,  their  neighbour,  and 
human  societ}'.  They  resemble  that  deceitful  and  ma- 
lignant spirit,  -who  was  a  liar  from  the  beginning,  and 
^vho  is  iustlv  called  the  father  of  lies. 

IV.  Scurrilous  and  reproachful  language  towards 
those,  ^^•ith  ^vhom  \xe  are  connected,  is  another  instance 
of  an  unruly  tongue.  This  our  Saviour  tells  us  is  a 
breach  of  the  sixth  commandment ;  it  is  killing  w  ith 
the  tongue.  "  Whosoever  is  angry  with  his  brother 
without  cause,"  and  in  his  passion  calls  him  Raca^  thou 
base  fellow,  or  t/wu  fooi,   shall  be  in  danger  of  God's 


94  ON  THE  VICES  [Ser.  VIIL 

future  vengeance.     Christianity  requires  us  to  put  away 
all  bitterness  and  wrath,  clamour  and  evil  speaking,  and 
to  address  even  our  servants  and  inferiors  in  the  language 
of  tenderness  and  benignity.     The  reverse  of  this  is 
both  inhuman  and  unchristian.     Those,  who  freely  dis- 
pense to  those  around  them  reproachful  names  and  epi- 
thets, should  consider  that  the  persons,  w'hom  they  thus 
abuse,  have  the  same  common  nature.   Father  and  Re- 
deemer with  themselves  ;  that  they  may  possibly  inher- 
it as  much  sense,  integrity,  and  goodness  ;  that  if  they 
are  subject  to  bodily  or  mental  infirmities,  to  outward 
poverty  and  meanness,  it  is  God,  who  has  thus  subject- 
ed them ;  and  if  we  deride  them  on  these  accounts,  we 
reproach  their  Creator.     Let  us  further  consider,  that 
many,  who  are  visibly  low  and  obscure,  are  rich  in  faith 
and  holiness,  and  of  course  honourable  in  the  eyes  of 
God,  and  therefore  ought  to  be  respected  by  us.     In 
short,  contemptuous  and  bitter  language  is  not  only  im- 
proper, but  always  useless  and  hurtful.     It  never  com- 
mands that  hearty  respect  and  obedience  from  our  infe- 
riors,  which  an  opposite  treatment  secures.     It  sinks 
the  character  and  authority  of  those,  who  use  it ;  while 
it   fixes  a  deep  wound   and   perhaps  a  lasting  enmi- 
ty in  the  bosoms  of  those  who  receive  it.     If  reproach- 
ful words  are  thus  indecorous  and  criminal  in  superiors 
towards  persons  placed  beneath  them;  they  are  still 
more  heinous  when  used  by  the  latter  towards  the  for- 
mer.    What  an  outrage  against  nature,  decency,  and 
virtue,  for  children  to  treat  their  parents,  especially  when 
aged,  with  the  language  of  disrespect  or  contempt !  How 
siiocking  for  the  child,  or  the  youth  to  behave  himself 
proudly  against  the  ancient ;  or  the  base  against  the  hon- 
ourable ;  or  for  subjects  on  every  slight  occasion  to  re- 
vile their  rulers ! 


Ser.  VIIL]  of  the  tongue.     ■  95 

Nearly  related  to  this  particular  arc  the  several  forms 
of  evil  speaking,  for  instance,  uttering  things  to  the 
disadvantage  of  absent  persons  without  any  necessity  or 
prospect  of  utility ;  uncharitably  censuring  their  actions, 
character,  or  state,  or  disturbing  the  harmony  and  com- 
fort of  families  and  neighbourhoods  by  officiously  inter- 
meddling with  their  concerns,  by  meanly  prying  into 
their  transactions  and  secrets,  and  eagerly  propagating 
and  commenting  upon  them.  This  practice  describes 
the  whole  company  of  tatkrs  and  busy  bodies^  w  hom  the 
apostle  reproves  with  an  air  of  mingled  abhorrence  and 
indignation.  There  is  likewise  a  foolish  talking  and 
jesting^  which  St.  Paul  mentions  as  unbecoming  the 
Christian  character.  Jesting  or  humorous  discourse  is 
not  criminal,  when  employed  merely  for  harmless  and 
needful  relaxation,  or  when  used  to  chastise  folly,  error, 
and  vice.  But  it  is  always  sinful  and  injurious,  when 
it  is  made  the  vehicle  and  promoter  of  levity  or  scandal, 
of  infidelity  or  profaneness,  of  malice  or  obscenity. 

This  brings  us  to  a  Jifth  and  last  instance  of  an  un- 
ruly  tongue,  viz,  Jilthy  communication.  This  sin  is  pe- 
culiarly shameless,  corrupting  and  infectious.  It  wages 
war  with  natural  modesty,  civil  decorum,  and  Christian 
purity.  It  is  a  high  offence  against  the  pure  nature  and 
law  of  God.  It  evinces  and  increases  the  moral  pollu- 
tion and  vileness  of  the  offender.  It  eminently  dis- 
qualifies him  for  the  pure  exercises  of  religion,  and  the 
holy  entertainments  of  heaven.  Like  a  moral  poison, 
it  conveys  an  impure  and  destructive  contagion  to  oth- 
ers. It  has  greater  influence  in  the  propagation  of  vice, 
than  perhaps  any  other  kind  of  evil  discourse.  Hence 
St.  Paul  charges  Christians,  that  uncleanness  be  not  once 
named  among  them ;  he  exhorts  them  to  put  it  away 
from  their  months  as  well,  as  from  their  practice. 


96  ON    THE  VICES  [Ser.  VIIL 

Ha\  Ing  enumerated  the  principal  evils  of  a  licentious 
tongue,  I  ^^  ill  close  with  some  general  rules  for  the  due 
go\'ernmcnt  of  our  speech. 

1.  Let  us  see  that  our  hearts  be  truly  and  thoroughly 
sanctified.  It  is  from  the  evil  treasure  of  the  heart,  that 
the  evil  things  abo\e  specified  are  produced.  If  the  law 
of  holy  lo\e  to  God  and  men  Mere  x^'ritten  in  our 
hearts  ;  if  \\e  were  constantly  governed  by  it,  as  a  li\'- 
ing,  all  controlling  principle ;  we  should  not,  we  could 
not,  willingly  ofteiid  either  the  one  or  the  other,  with 
our  lips :  we  could  not  hidulge,  nor  even  endure,  the 
language  of  impiety  or  falsehood,  of  slander  or  re- 
proach :  it  would  not  be  a  burdensome  task,  but  our 
delight  and  glory  to  restrict  our  discourse  within  the 
bounds  of  Christian  sobriety,  benevolence,  and  piety. 
Our  hearts  being  seasoned  A\ith  grace,  our  speech 
would  naturally  be  savory  and  edifying.  Let  it  then  be 
our  first,  our  most  anxious  concern,  that  this  inward 
fountain  of  our  words  and  actions  be  purified  by  the 
word  and  spirit  of  God. 

2.  In  dependence  on  di\ine  grace  let  us  enter  into 
a  solemn  resolution  and  covenant  against  the  sins  above 
reproved,  and  all  others  connected  with  them.  Let  us 
adopt  and  bind  on  our  souls  David's  vow,  Ps.  xxxix. 
12.  Let  us  make,  and  daily  renew  this  engagement,  in 
the  presence  and  strength  of  Almighty  God,  without 
any  equivocation  or  mental  reserve.  In  this  way  we 
shall  erect,  and  continually  fortify  a  strong  hold  agiiinst 
temptation. 

3.  Let  us  studiously  aAoid  evil  company.  AVe  in- 
sensiblv  slide  into  a  resemblance  of  our  associates.  This 
is  remarkably  verified  in  the  facility,  Avith  which  young 
persons  of  the  most  pious  education  catch  the  j^rofane 
br  indecent  language  of  licentious  companions.  Let 
me  then  affectionately  caution  the  childrexi  and  youth  of 


Ser.VIII.]  of  the  TONGtE.  97 

this  assembi}-  to  have  no  friendship,  nor  even  society", 
witli  the  iingodh'  and  dissokite.  "  My  son,  if  sinners 
entice  thee,  consent  thou  not.  Enter  not  into  tlie  path 
of  the  \^  icked ,'  a\oid  it ;  pass  not  by  it ;  turn  from  it^ 
and  pass  away,  lest  thou  learn  his  'x\  a}'s,  and  get  a  snare 
to  thy  soul."  Let  us  also,  who  are  parents  and  heads 
of  families,  use  the  greatest  vigilance  and  authority  in 
kccjiing  our  children,  domestics,  and  houses  pure  from 
the  dreadful  contagion  of  evil  company  and  conversa- 
tion. Otherwise  our  personal  examples  and  instruc- 
tions, howe\'er  excellent,  will  probably  have  but  little 
effect. 

4.  Let  us  form  a  habit  of  deliberating,  and  serious- 
ly reviewing  our  tlioughts,  before  we  give  them  utter- 
ance. The  author  of  the  Psalms  repeatedly  mentions 
with  contrition  what  he  had  spoken  in  his  haste.  Mo- 
ses, that  pattern  of  meekness,  once  "  spake  unadvisedly 
with  his  lips,'^  and  forfeited  Canaan  by  it,  because  he 
did  not  solemnly  reflect,  before  he  expressed  his  feel 
ings.  Most  of  us  have  probably  transgressed  in  a  sim- 
ilar manner.  Let  this  teach  us  the  needful  lesson  of 
correcting  our  first  impressions  by  deliberate  reflection, 
before  we  give  them  the  sanction  of  our  iips.  Let  us 
likewise  often  meditate  on  the  sti'ict  account  v/hich  is 
kept  of  our  vain  and  sinful  speeches,  by  our  omniscient. 
Judge.  He  has  assured  us  that  for  every  idle  word, 
which  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  account  in  the 
day  of  judgment.  Let  us  habituate  ourselves  to  reflect 
with  a  tender  conscience  on  our  daily  discourse,  and  to 
humble  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  God  for  every  off» 
fensive  or  unguarded  woi'd,  which  escapes  us.  Final- 
ly, let  us  by  fervent  and  constant  prayer  put  ourselves 
imder  the  gracious  conduct  and  protection  of  Heavea : 
Let  us  daily  offer  the  petition  of  David — "  Set  a  watch, 
O  Lord,  before  my  mouth,  keep  the  dooi-  of  my  lips.** 


98  THE  VICES  OF  THE  TONGUE.       [Ser.  Vltt. 

Let  me  especially  recommend  these  friendly  counsels 
to  the  rising  generation.  Begin  early,  my  young  friends, 
to  devote  yourheai'ts,  and  lips,  and  lives  to  your  Crea- 
tor. Let  your  mouths  be  early  accustomed  to  the  lan- 
guage of  purity  and  devotion,  if  you  would  hope  to  join 
in  the  holy  conversation  and  praises  of  heaven ;  for 
there  shall  in  no  w  ise  enter  into  that  blessed  place  any 
thing  that  worketh,  or  speaketh  abomination. 


©crmon  ix. 


The  Character  of  a  Wise  Man, 

Psalm  iii.   10. 
The  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  Wisdom, 

VV  ISDOM  is  a  quality  so  honourable,  that  almost 
e\'ery  man  aspires  to  the  reputation  .of  possessing  it  \ 
and  no  character  is  e;enerallv  accounted  more  disQ:race- 
ful,  than  that  of  a  fool.  Many  j^ersons  place  a  greater 
value  upon  reputed  wisdom,  than  exemplary  honestj'-, 
and  esteem  it  a  more  grievous  reproach  to  be  taxed  with 
weakness  of  understanding,  than  with  badness  of  morals. 
But  in  the  uneiTing  judgment  of  Heaven,  no  man  mer- 
its the  appellation  of  nvise,  who  is  not  truly  good ;  for, 
says  the  text,  "  the  fear  of  the  LoRiP  is  thg  beginning 
of  wisdom."  Jr    ■  vifr  rjf; 

The  fear  of  the  Lord,  in  the  scriptural  «tyle,  is  but 
another  name  for  the  principle  and  practice  of  piety.  It 
imports  such  aftectionate  veneration  for  the  Most  High, 
as  produces  a  filial  and  effectual  fear  of  offending  him  by 
disobedience,  and  prompts  the  most  tender  and  earnest 
endeavours  to  please  and  to  honour  him.  It  therefore 
includes  the  whole  of  virtue,  at  least  in  its  inward  spirit, 
or  commanding  principle.  When  this  fear  of  God  is 
called  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  the  idea  is,  that  true 
piety  is  the  first  principle,  or  the  highest  ingredient  of 
genuine  wisdom. 

The  text,  therefore,  directly  leads  us  to  illustrate, 
confirm,  and  apply  the  following  proposition. 


100  THE  CHARACTER  OF  [Ser.  IX. 

He,  and  he  only  is  a  M'ise  man,  who  regulates  his 
heart,  and  life  by  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  religion. 
The  man  of  religion  acts  upon  these  two  great  princi- 
ples", First,  that  there  is  a  God,  who  made  and  go\erns 
the  world ;    and  Secondly,  that  this  Supreme  Ruler  will 
reward  or  punish  men  in  a  future  state  for  their  moral 
behaviour  in  the  present.     We  n:iust  add,  that  the  pious 
and  virtuous  man,  if  favoured  w  ith  the  light  of  revelation, 
wiKf  Rlso^Day  lic^^bred  practical  attention  to  the  peculiar 
doctrines,  duties,  and  motives  of  Christianitv.     Deeply 
]mj3itfss(^I  UTtli'the  momentous  discoveries  presented  to 
lilm'^fiV  reason  and  scripture,  he  feels  it  to  be  his  great 
int^res'l','  'anfd  makes  it  his  supreme  care  so  to  conduct  in 
thilJ'^t^rftlras'tb's'eciire  everlasting  happiness  in  the  next. 
0oe$''nbt'cverv  rational  mind  instantly  percei\-e  and  ap- 
iMaud^tKd:^ wisdom  dfsuch  a  character  ?  Does  it  not  pro- 
iiOii'fic'e  the  opposke  to  be  a  display  of  egregious  folly  ? 
"'^B'lit' in  order  to  place  this  subject  in  the  most  forcible 
]76rnt  of  vie\^',  M^e  will  make  three  different  suppositions 
rcspcctrng  the  principles,  on  which  the  behaviour  of  the 
virtuous  man  proceeds  ;  and  we  shall  find  that  on  either 
"of'those  suppositions- he  acts  a  far  \\iser  part,  than  the 
practical  unteliever.      The  great  j^rinciples  of  natural 
and  rcA'Caled  religion  may,   for  the  sake  of  illustration, 
be  considered  either  as  false  or  doubtful,  or  as  certainly 
true. 

In  the  first  place,  if  we  suppose  for  a  few  moments 
these  principles  to  be  false,  as  infidels  and  atheists  pretend ; 
yet  in  this  case  the  man  of  piety  and  virtue  ultimately 
loses  nothing  by  his  goodness,  but  evidently  has  the  ad- 
A-antage.  For  his  belief  in  God  and  providence,  his 
contemplation  and  hope  of  immortalit}-,  though  not  final- 
ly realized,  are  a  source  of  unspeakable  comfort  and 
benefit  to  him  in  the  present  state.  Thc}^  spread  light, 
harmon}',  and  beauty  over  the  face  of  the  natural  and 


Ser.  IX.]  A  WISE  MAN.  101 

moral  world,  wJiich  to  the  eye  of  atheistical  philosopli}- 
present  nothing  but  dark  and  cliaoUc  confusion.  The 
sentiment  of  a  Deity  and  a  future  btate  gi\es  a  noble 
expansion  and  elevation  to  the  soul ;  it  enlarges  the 
understanding,  delights  the  imagination,  and  rejoices  the 
heart.  It  heightens  all  our  innocent  enjoyments,  and 
inspires  fortitude,  serenity,  and  triumph  under  the  prcG- 
sure  of  outward  calamity.  It  gives  vigour,  stability,  and 
pleasure  to  the  practice  of  those  virtues,  which  contri- 
bute to  health  and  peace,  to  reputation  and  competence. 

1.  The  man  of  religious  principles  and  strict  morals 
has  vastly  the  advantage  of  the  opposite  character  in 
FiCspect  to  healthy  that  prime  source  of  temporal  happi- 
ness. Religious  virtue,  comprising  habitual  temperance, ' 
charit}-,  and  devotion,  and  imphing  a  well  regulated,' 
calm,  and  cheerful  spirit,  is  exceedingly  friendly  to  the 
regular,   vigorous  and  happy  tone  of  our  bodies  :    as 

'Solomon  emphatically  expresses  it,  it  y:^  health  to  the 
fleshy  and  marroiu  to  the  bones.  But  vicious  passions  and 
indulgences,  a  disordered  heart,  and  an  idle,  intemperate, 
licentious  life,  waste  the  animal  constitution,  and  yield 
the  bodj'  a  pre}'  to  disease  and  pain,  and  frequently  to 
untimely  dissolution. 

2.  Religious  wisdom  is  the  parent  of  mental  tranquil- 
lay;  while  uneasiness  and  anxiety  are  the  inseparable 
fruit  and  curse  of  sinful  propensities.  View  the  man, 
who  is  devoted  to  sensuality,  ambition,  or  avarice.  He 
must  rise  early,  sit  up  late,  pursue  his  dark  design,  with 
cautious  and  persevering  labour,  with  a  fearful  and  mis- 
giving mind  ;  he  must  invent  and  practise  a  thousand 
expedients  to  accomplish  and  to  disguise  his  unworthy 
object :  while  the  honest,  humble,  contented  child  of 
virtue  is  good  and  pious  at  a  much  easier  rate.  He  feels 
safe  and  confident  in  his  o^^■n  integrity.  Conscious  of 
his  own  uprightness  and  worth,  he  feels  no  necessity 


102  THE  CHARACTER  OF  [Ser.  iX. 

either  of  carefully  concealing  or  officiously  displaying 
his  character.  He  needs  no  expense  of  anxious  labour 
to  save  or  set  off  appearances.  He  resembles  the  sun 
in  the  heavens,  who  shines  without  taking  artificial  pains 
to  shine,  and  who  employs  no  effort  or  disguise  to  con- 
vince the  world  that  he  is  not  a  dark,  but  a  lumin- 
ous body. 

The  difference  between  the  vicious  and  the  virtuous 
man,  in  respect  to  internal  peace,  is  inexpressible.  The 
former,  let  his  outward  circumstances  be  ever  so  easy 
and  flourishing,  is  like  the  troubled  sea,  which  cannot 
rest.  His  mind  is  daily  agitated  by  guilty,  ungoverned, 
or  discordant  passions ;  it  is  either  swelled  by  pride, 
corroded  by  envy,  torn  by  anger,  inflamed  by  lust,  or 
consumed  by  revenge.  These  and  similar  emotions, 
with  their  criminal  and  calamitous  effects,  not  only  im- 
mediately operate  to  banish  self-enjoyment,  and  pro- 
duce inward  tumult  and  agony,  but  they  arm  against 
the  offender  the  bitter  reproaches  of  his  own  reason  and 
conscience.  On  the  other  hand,  true  virtue,  by  subdu- 
ing and  harmonizing  the  inferior  powers,  gives  the  mind 
a  serene  enjoyment  of  itself,  and  of  every  object  around 
it ;  it  inspires  that  noble  firmness,  that  heart-felt  joy, 
which  arises  from  self  approbation. 

3.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  confers  a  great  advantage  in 
point  of  reputation.  However  degenerate  the  world  is, 
it  cannot  withhold  its  esteem  and  even  veneration  from 
the  just  and  faithful  man,  whose  whole  conduct  pro- 
claims, that  he  acts  from  principle,  that  he  religiously 
abhors  whatever  is  base  and  dishohest.  It  cannot  re- 
fuse its  respect  to  the  man  of  exemplary  sobriety,  who 
triumphs  over  every  vicious  propensity,  over  every 
temptation  to  forbidden  indulgence.  Even  those  who 
are  destitute  of  virtue,  are  aued  by  its  majesty,  anc^ 
charmed  by  its  beauty,  when  they  see  it  strongly  reflect- 


Ser.  IX.l  A  WISE  MAN.  105 

ed  from  the  conduct  of  its  votaries.  On  the  other  hand, 
contempt  and  infiimy  are  the  general  lot  of  the  wicked. 
What  objects  of  scorn  and  detestation  are  the  sons  of 
falsehood  and  knaveiy,  of  intemperance  and  debauche- 
ry !  Familial"  intercourse  with  such  persons  is  shunned, 
as  reproachful  and  contaminating,  by  every  man  of  de- 
cency and  reputation  ;  even  their  occasional  society  is 
painful  to  delicate  and  virtuous  minds.  In  short,  few 
men  are  so  insensible  to  the  lustre  of  virtue,  as  not  to 
covet  the  honour  w  hich  attends  it,  and  thousands  pay 
homage  to  it,  by  assuming  the  garb,  and  aspiring  to 
the  credit  of  it,  \\  hile  their  evil  propensities  hinder  them 
from  cordially  espousing  its  interest.  This  reputation, 
which  accompanies  goodness,  is  at  once  an  unspeakable 
pleasure  and  advantage  to  its  possessor ;  while  the 
shame,  attendant  on  vice,  is  a  most  poignant  evil. 

I  am  aware  of  a  plausible  objection  to  this  assertion, 
founded  on  those  words  of  St.  Paul,  "  If  in  this  life  on- 
ly, we  have  hope  in  Christ,  we  are  of  all  men  most 
miserable."  This  passage  has  been  understood  by  ma- 
ny, as  a  declaration,  that  the  most  virtuous  Christians 
would  be  the  most  wretched  of  mankind,  if  they  had  no 
hope  of  a  better  life,  or  if  this  hope  should  prove  delu- 
sive. But  the  connexion  plainly  limits  this  text  to  the 
first  professors  and  ministers  of  Christianity,  and  partic- 
ularly to  the  apostles,  whose  sufferings  for  the  gospel 
were  extraordinary  and  unceasing.  It  has  therefore  no 
reference  to  the  subject  in  discussion.  Besides,  if 
these  Christian  teachei's  did  not  really  belie\e  and  hope 
in  a  future  life,  they  must  have  been  the  most  impious 
and  cruel  impostors ;  all  their  preaching  and  conduct 
must  have  been  founded  on  a  wicked  and  illusory 
scheme  of  pretended  doctrines  and  facts,  and  calculated 
to  seduce  thousands  of  their  fellow  men  into  poverty, 
disgrace,  and  ruin  in  this  world,  in  the  chimerical  hope 


104  THE  CHARACTER  OF  [Ser.  IX. 

of  endless  but  imaginary  iciicity  in  the  next ;  conse- 
quc.itly,  instead  off  Ipeing  the  most  virtuous,  they  we-re 
reahy  the  most  abandoned  of  human  beings,  and  their 
inward  guilt  and  horror  of  conscience,  added  to  their 
\Aorldly  sacrifices  and  suflbrings,  might  wtW  render 
tliem  of  all  men  the  most  miserable.  But  how  does 
this  apply  to  those,  who  are  truly  honest  in  their  relig- 
ious profession  and  practice  ?  We  may  add,  St.  Paul 
is  evidently  describing  those,  mIiosc  belief  and  expres- 
sions are  \a  holly  confined  to  this  life  ;  but  our  preced- 
ing argument  has  proceeded  in  part  on  the  idea,  that 
the  virtuous  man  has  some  hope  in  a  future  existence, 
though  this  hope  is  supposed  to  be  unfounded.  If  tiie 
belief  of  God  and  immortality  were  entirely  discarded, 
we  grant  that  genuine  religious  virtue,  and  the  consola- 
tion produced  by  it,  could  not  exist ;  what  we  now  call 
morality  would  become  mere  M'orldly  policy,  or  the 
.dictate  of  self  interest ;  yet  even  then  it  would  be  far  bet- 
ter both  for  individual  and  social  enjoyment  to  be  visibly 
temperate,  just  and  beneficent,  than  the  reverse. 

Lastly,  The  man  of  religious  virtue  has  the  advantage 
of  the  opposite  character  in  regard  to  teviporal  profit. 
For  the  esteem  and  confidence,  which  he  possesses,  are 
exceedingly  favourable  to  liis  ^vorldly  business  and  suc- 
icess.  Many  branches  of  virtue  naturally  tend  to  compe- 
tence, and  in  some  cases  to  aflluence,;  such  as  temper- 
ance and  industry,  frugality  and  moderation,  justice  and 
integrity. 

It  appears  then  that  the  pious  and  virtuous  man  acts 
a  wiser  part  than  the  practical  infidel,  e\'en  on  the  most 
unfavourable  hypotliesis,  or  on  supposition  that  leligion 
is  but  a  delusion ;  for  in  ordinary  cases  he  secures  a 
much  greater  portion  of  present  felicity. 

I'hispart  of  our  subject  would  be  much  strengthened, 
had  we  time  to  ripply  it  to  social  man,  or  to  cojnpare  the 


Ser.ix.1  a  wise  man.  105 

opposite  effects  accruing  to  ci^il  society  from  the  practical 
influence  of  religious  and  moral,  or  of  irreligious  and  de- 
moralizing principles.  A  view  of  these  contrasted  ef- 
fects would  add  an  unspeakable  preponderance  to  the 
side  of  religion,  by  showing  its  immense  advantages  to 
communities  as  such,  and  of  course  to  tiie  several  in- 
di^'idaals,  who  compose  tliem.  But  waving  so  exten- 
sive a  contemplation,  to  which  your  own  experience,  ob- 
servation, and  reflection  will  readily  do  justice,  I  hast- 
en to  the 

Second  supposition  stated  abo\'e,  -which  considers  the 
principles  of  religion  as  doubtful,  that  is,  as  possible,  or 
at  most  probable,  but  not  certain.  On  this  supposition 
tlie  man,  who  practically  regards  them,  still  more  e^i- 
dcntl}'  acts  the  wiser  part,  for  he  chooses  the  safest  side ; 
he  runs  no  risk,  though  his  belief  and  consequent  prac- 
tice should  e^•entually  prove  erroneous  ;  \\  hereas  the  un. 
believer  runs  the  hazard  of  finai  perdition.  The  pious 
man  gains  eternal  happiness,  if  natural  and  revealed  re- 
ligion be  true  ;  but  the  infidel  gains  nothing,  though  his 
opinion  should  finally  pro^^e  correct.  No  wise  man 
would  needlessly  expose  himself  to  the  bare  possibility 
of  losing  a  state  of  endless  blessedness,  and  of  incur- 
ring e\erlasting  punishment.  If  therefore  a  future  retri- 
bution be  only  possible,  and  certainly  no  infidel  can 
demonstrate  the  contrar}-,  they  who  deride  or  practically 
disregard  it,  they  who  live  as  if  such  a  state  were  cer- 
talnh'  a  chimera,  are  in  the  view  of  common  sense,  the 
most  desperate  fools  and  madmen.  This  charge  of 
folly  is  greatly  heightened,  if  we  suppose  that  religion  is 
attended  with  some  degree  of  probability.  Now  the 
single  fact,  that  all  nations  and  ages  ha\'e  concurred  in 
embracing  its  leading  principles,  affords  probable  evi- 
dence of  its  truth  j  since  no  falsehood  of  so  interesting  a 
nature  ever  was  or  can  be  imposed  Upon  all  nations  and 


106  THE  CHARCTER  OF  [Ser.  IX. 

descriptions  of  men,  so  distant  from  each  other  in  situa- 
tion, manners,  interests,  understandings,  and  disposi- 
tions ;  especially  since  the  most  improved  energies  of  the 
human  mind,  exerted  on  this  subject,  have  never  been 
able  to  detect  the  falsehood.  A  thousand  other  proba- 
bilities might  be  adduced  on  the  side  of  religion. 

But  supposing  for  tlie  present  that  it  is  probably  true, 
the  wisdom  of  believing  and  obeying  it  will  readily  and 
strongly  appear.  No  man,  in  his  temporal  concerns, 
waits  for  iiituiti\'e  or  mathematical  certainty  to  govern 
his  faith  and  practice ;  but  he  founds  both  on  pre- 
ponderating evidence.  Almost  the  whole  business  and 
commerce  of  mankind  are  necessarily  and  successfully 
conducted  upon  this  principle,  or  upon  such  evidence 
as  the  nature  of  the  case  admits  and  demands.  Now 
where  our  eternal  interest  is  in  question,  a  smaller  prob- 
ability should  determine  us  against  risking  or  losing  it,, 
than  would  be  necessary  in  a  merely  temporal  concern  ; 
for  the  more  important  any  interest  is,  the  more  cautious 
should  we  be  against  putting  it  to  hazard ;  the 
least  probability  of  danger  in  this  case  should  be 
watchfully  precluded.  Suppose  on  the  one  side 
there  is  a  possibility  that  future  retribution  may 
never  take  place;  yet  if  this  should  be  the  fact, 
the  religious  man  sustains  only  this  inconvenience, 
that  he  did  not  give  an  unbounded  licence  to  his  sensual 
pleasures,  but  subjected  them  to  the  probable,  though 
imaginary  belief  of  immortality;  but  even  this  self-de- 
nying regulation  of  appetite  and  passion  gave  him  more 
ease,  more  present  satisfaction  and  benefit,  than  unlimit- 
ed indulgence  could  possibly  afford.  But  on  the  other 
side,  it  is  highly  probable,  that  there  will  be  a  future 
state ;  and  in  this  event  how  miserable  will  be  the  prac- 
tical unbeliever !  In  the  mean  time,  the  apprcliension  of 
such  an  issue  nuist  greaUy  mar  his  present  enjoyments. 


ser.ix.]  a  wise  man.  107 

Let  US  now,  in  the 

Third  place,  proceed  upon  the  supposition,  that  the 
great  principles  of  religion  are  certainly  true.  We  shall 
not  at  present  support  this  hypothesis  by  formal  proof. 
It  is  suffieient  to  observe,  that  the  existence  of  an  un- 
originated  and  eternal,  a  designing  and  all  powerful 
cause,  is  demonstrably  certain  from  visible  nature. 
The  moral  attributes,  government,  and  final  retri- 
bution of  this  great  Being,  may  be  satisfactorily 
inferred  from  his  natural  perfections,  and  from  the 
present  phenomena  of  the  moral  world.  The  truth 
of  revealed  religion  is  also  clearly  proved  by  past 
and  present  appearances,  by  abundant  historic  evidence 
of  the  leading  facts  recorded  in  the  gcispel,  and  by  the 
carl  y  and  continued  propagation,  monuments,  and 
beneficent  effects  of  the  Christian  revelation. 

Now  the  religious  man  v\isely  believes  and  conducts 
according  to  this  evidence.  He  perceives  upon  sober 
inquiry,  that  God  and  virtue,  that  the  Bible  and  eterni- 
ty are  names,  which  stand  for  the  most  solemn  realities  ; 
he  therefore  habitually  treats  them  as  such;  he  contin- 
ually lives  to  his  Maker  and  Redeemer,  to  virtue  and 
immortality.  That  such  conduct  is  emphatically  v^dse, 
Vv'ill  more  fully  appear,  if  ^ve  consider  that  it  possesses 
all  the  characteristics  of  true  wisdom.  It  implies  a  cor- 
rect discernment  and  choice  of  our  supreme  good.  As 
religion,  especially  Christianity,  informs  us  of  our  high- 
est interest  and  end,  and  of  the  only  means  to  attain  it; 
so  the  real  Christian  discerns  and  embraces  that  infinite 
good,  which  revelation  sets  before  him.  But  irreligious 
men  universally  fail  in  this  capital  point ;  they  propose 
some  finite,  sensitive,  or  imaginary  felicity,  and  mistake 
this  airy  phantom  for  true  blessedness  ;  and  though  ev- 
ery experiment  shows  them  that  the  object  of  their  pur- 
suit is  but  a  deceitful  shadow,  yet  they  court   it  afresh 


108  THE  CHARACTER  OF  [Ser.  IX„ 

with  redoubled  ardour.  Justly  therefore  does  the  Psalm- 
ist exclaim,  "  Have  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  no  knowl- 
edge?" This  question  implies  that  habitual  sinners,  hoM- 
excr  learned  or  apparently  wise,  know  nothing  in  a  right 
manner,,  or  to  valuable  purpose.  They  ha^'e  no  real- 
izing and  practical  knowledge  either  of  God,  or  the 
Saviour,  of  sin  or  duty,  of  this  world  or  the  next,  or 
even  of  their  own  frame,  condition,  and  prospect. 

Further,  the  religious  mim  discerns  and  adopts  t/ic 
proper  7nccms  for  securing  his  chief  good.  He  aims  to 
please  and  enjoy  God,  by  imitating  and  obeying  him» 
He  prepares  to  see  Christ  as  he  is,  by  endeaAOurin;:^  to 
be  like  him.  He  seeks  for  a  pure  and  holy  heaven,  by 
cultivating  a  pure  heart  and  a  holy  practice  in  the  pres- 
ent state.  He  seeks  after  the  gospel  salvation,  in  the 
gospel  way,  in  the  way  of  CAangelical  faith,  repentance 
and  obedience.  But  every  wicked  man,  \vho  pretends 
to  believe  in  religion,  neglects  the  only  right  path  to  his 
professed  object.  He  ostensibly  pursues  and  expects 
eternal  happiness,  but  what  means  does  he  use  to  attain 
it  ?  He  seeks  it  either  by  a  rouud  of  cold  external  wor- 
ship or  moi^ality,  or  by  inward  faith,  reliance,  or  raptur- 
ous feelings  ;,  while  he  omits^  yea,  secretly  hates  that 
self-denying,  practical,  and  universal  holiness,  "^Aithout 
which  both  reason  and  Scripture  declare  he  cannot  see 
the  Lord-  What  monstrous  infatuation,  to  seek  and 
hope  for  everlasting  felicity  \\ithout  possessing  or  even 
labouring  after  those  moral  qualities,  \\  hich  must  fit  him 
to  enjoy  it,  and  which  go  to  constitute  the  happiness 
itself ! 

Lastly,  the  crowning  property  of  wisdom  is  a  'Vigorous 
application  of  the  means,  a\  hich  lead  to  our  end.  Tliis 
forms  the  greatest  line  of  diftcrence  between  the  sincere 
and  nominal  Christian  ;  the  one  diligently  applies  his 
knoAvlcdge  to  practice ;  the  other,  with  the  same  price 


aER.  IX.]  A   WISE  MAN.  109 

in  his  hands  to  get  wisdom,  is  too  thoughtless  and  indo- 
lent to  improve  it.  In  temporal  affairs  men  easily  and 
practically  distinguish  between  a  small  and  great,  a  mo- 
mentary and  durable  advantage,  and  readily  resign  the 
former  to  the  latter  ;  but  foolish  sinners  in  tlieir  highest 
concerns  reverse  this  rule  of  action  ;  they  sacrifice  an 
invaluable  and  endless  good  to  some  trivial  and  tran- 
sient interest  or  pleasure.  How  careful  is  worldly  wis- 
dom to  observe  and  seize  the  fittest  opportunities  for  pro- 
moting its  object !  But  how  negligent  are  sinners  of  their 
peculiar  advantages  and  seasons  for  gaining  the  isrue 
riches  !  How  carelessly  do  they  v^^aste  the  iiower  of  their 
lives  !  How  many  sabbaths  and  sermons,  how  many 
natural  gifts  and  providential  warnings,  how  many  tender, 
serious,  and  promising  moments  are  trifled  away! 
While  common  prudence  urges  men  to  get  their  earthly 
property  secured  by  a  firm  and  certain  title  ;  how  un- 
concerned are  the  wicked  about  the  nature  of  their  title 
to  an  incorruptible  inheritance !  While  the  principle  of 
self  preservation  is  ever  alive  to  temporal  danger,  and 
full  of  earnest  activity  in  guarding  against  it ;  how  slow 
are  sinners  to  feel  and  avoid  their  constant  danger  of  eter- 
nal perdition ! 

These  observations  sufficiently  illustrate  the  folly  of  a 
sinful,  and  the  wisdom  of  a  religious  life. 

Our  subject,  in  review,  shows  us  in  a  strong  light  the 
moral  depravity  of  the  human  mind.  The  same  natu- 
ral faculties  and  principles,  which  enable  and  dispose 
men  to  act  wisely  in  their  temporal  affairs,  would  lead  to 
an  equally  w  ise  conduct  in  their  eternal  concerns,  if  they 
were  not  strongly  perverted.  The  same  reason  and 
prudence,  which  make  them  provident  and  active  for 
their  bodily  and  secular  welfare,  would  render  them 
still  more  discreet  and  vigilant  in  securing  their  immor- 
tal happiness,  if  some  awful  infatuation  had  not  seized 


110  THE  CHARACTER  OF  [Ser.  IX. 

their  minds.  What  other  reason  can  be  assigned  for  the 
direct  opposition  between  the  arguments,  feelings,  and 
conduct  of  those,  who  despise  or  neglect  religion,  and 
the  principles  and  behaviour  of  the  same  persons  with 
respect  to  all  other  subjects  ?  We  find  that  infidels  and 
libertines  will  even  glory  in  advancing  such  objections 
against  religion,  and  such  pleas  for  neglecting  it,  asJAcn 
they  would  be  ashamed  to  employ  on  any  other  topic. 

We  find  too  that  thousands,  who  professedly  believe 
in  religion,  indulge  and  even  justify  a  practice  so  con- 
trary to  their  profession,  as  to  discoA-er  the  greatest  mor- 
al stupidity  and  madness.  How  shocking  is  it  for  rea- 
sonable beings,  in  their  highest  concerns,  to  profess  and 
to  act  in  such  a  manner,  that  their  avow  ed  principles  and 
actions  perpetually  contradict  and  reproach  each  other ! 
How  absurd,  for  men  to  excuse  their  present  inconsis- 
tent conduct  by  the  purpose  of  future  amendment? 
Does  not  this  very  purpose  imply  a  present  conviction 
of  folly,  and  )'et  a  resolution  to  continue  in  it  ?  Does  it 
not  likewise  imply  a  bold  presumption  on  some  future 
opportunity,  disposition,  and  ability  to  repent  ?  Yet  no 
man  in  his  senses  will  pretend  to  be  certain  of  either  of 
these  futurities.  These  and  similar  foots,  which  we  dai- 
ly see  and  feel,  cannot  be  accounted  for  without  admit- 
ting the  scripture  doctrine  of  human  depravity.  Sound 
philosophy  teaches,  that  no  other  cause  is  adequate  to 
such  uniform  and  dreadful  effects. 

Again,  with  what  an  ill  grace  do  irreligious  men 
ridicule  serious  and  exemplary  Christians,  as  foolish 
and  distracted  visionaries !  If  our  text,  and  the  general 
tenour  of  the  Bible  be  true ;  yea,  if  natural  religion  have 
any  reality  or  even  probability  ;  every  habitual  sinner, 
howcA-er  sagacious  or  refined,  is  a  fool ;  and  every  pious 
.  man,  however  weak  in  other  respects,  in  the  noblest 
sense  is  wise.     The  former,  therefore,  is  a  just  object  of 


Ser.  IX.]  A  WISE  MAN.  Ill 

contempt,  and  the  latter  of  veneration.  Persons  of  the 
first  class,  instead  of  glorying  in  their  own  wisdom  or 
liberality,  and  vilifying  those,  who  shun  their  foolish  and 
destructive  paths,  ought  rather  to  despise  and  abhor 
themselves.  Instead  of  reproaching  religion,  as  making 
men  whimsical  or  mad,  they  ought  to  revere  it,  as  that 
which  eminendy  exalts  and  perfects  the  human  character. 
Instead  of  feaiung  to  embrace  it,  lest  it  should  contract 
their  minds,  or  sink  their  spirits,  they  should  eagerly  re- 
pair to  it,  as  the  best  source  of  rational  improvement 
and  comfort ;  for  happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  this  wis- 
dom, and  the  man  who  getteth  this  understanding. 

Finally,  Let  good  men,  however  poor  and  illiterate, 
afflicted  or  despised,  be  comforted  and  animated  by  the 
thought,  that  they  have  made  a  wise  and  happy  choice, 
and  that  their  wisdom  will  ere  long  be  confessed  and  re- 
warded in  the  view  of  the  assembled  universe.  In  the 
mean  time  let  such  highly  favoured  souls  pity,  and  la- 
bour to  reform  an  infatuated  world.  Let  them  endeavour 
to  bring  their  sinful  neighbours,  and  especially  their  be- 
loved children  and  friends,  to  that  knowledge  and  fear  of 
the  Lord,  m  hich  is  the  perfection  of  wisdom.  Let  thcni 
earnestly  pray  and  hope  for  that  blessed  day,  m  hen  the 
doctrine  and  spirit  of  the  gospel  shall  impart  true  wis- 
dom, virtue,  and  joy  to  the  whble  family  of  mankind. 


Sermon  x. 


On  the  Pleafures  of  Religion. 


Prov.  XXIV.   13,   14. 

My  so?t,  eat  thou  honey,  because  it  is  good ;  and  the  hon- 
eycomb, ivhich  is  sweet  to  thy  taste :  so  shall  the  knowl- 
edge of  wisdom  be  to  thy  soul,  When  thou  hast  found 
it,  then  there  shall  be  a  reward,  and  thy  expectation 
shall  not  be  cut  off, 

X  HE  main  design  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  is  to  lead 
men  to  the  kno\\ledge,  Ioac,  and  practice  of  true  piety 
and  virtue,  and  thereby  to  ad\'ance  them  to  the  proper 
perfection  and  feUcity  of  their  nature.     This  is  eminent- 
ly the  scope  of  the  book  of  Proverbs,  and  of  the  ^vords 
just  recited  in  particular  ;  in  which  the  A\ise  and  inspir- 
ed Solomon  most  pathetically  urges  mankind,   especial- 
ly the  young,  to  the  acquisition  of  wisdom,   or  true  re- 
ligion, and  enforces  the  exhortation  by  representing  the 
sweetness  and  pleasantness  of  it.     This  he  beautifully 
illustrates  and  recommends  by  the  simile  of  hone}^  and 
the  honeycomb,  than  Avhich  nothing  \vas  sweeter  o  r 
more  delightful  to  the  taste ;  and  one  of  the  principal 
excellencies  of  Canaan,  that  glory  of  all  lands,  was,  tliat 
it  flowed  with  milk  and  honey.     By  representing  the 
pleasantness  of  religion,   therefore,  by  this  comparison, 
he  intimates  that  the  enjoyment  of  it  will  afford  the  high- 
est satisfaction  and  the  most  exquisite  delight. 

The  text  presents  this  important  observation,  that 
true  religion  is  worthy  of  our  earnest  desire  and  pur- 
suit, not  ofilv  on  account  of  its  future  and  endless  re- 


Ser.  X.]  ON  THE  PLEASURES,  Sec.  113 

ward,  but  also  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion, which  immediately  attend  it. 

Bv  true  religion,  in  this  discourse,  we  intend,  not  the 
religion  of  the  superstitious  Pharisee,  the  sour  bigot,  or 
tl>e  wild  enthusiast ;  but  the  rational,  fervent,  and  practi- 
cal piety  of  the  sincere  Christian ;  or  such  a  just  and 
impressive  sense  of  the  Deity,  as  suitably  influences 
both  the  heart  and  the  conduct ;  as  engages  the  subject 
to  a  cheerful  and  steady  performance  of  the  various  du- 
ties, he  owes  to  his  Creator,  to  his  Redeemer,  to  his  fel- 
low-creatures, and  to  himself. 

Now  it  is  easy  to  show  that  religion,  in  this  rational 
and  scriptural  \ie\v  of  it,  is  indeed  sweeter  than  honey, 
or  the  honeycomb  ;  or  that  it  is  an  immediate  source  of 
the  most  pure  and  exalted  pleasures. 

To  pre-engage  your  attention  to  this  proposition,  let 
me  observe,  that  there  is  no  one  artifice,  by  which  the 
father  of  lies,  the  grand  deceiver  and  destroyer  of  men, 
has  more  successfully  promoted  his  cause,  than  by 
painting  religion  in  a  gloomy  and  forbidding  attitude,  and 
hereby  prejudicing  mankind,  especially  the  young,  against 
this  apprehended  dreadful  foe  to  human  comfort  and  de- 
light. And  many  of  Satan's  children  have  industriously 
laboured  to  strengthen  this  prejudice,  by  clothing  relig- 
ion in  the  most  disgusting  and  frightful  dress  ;  by  de- 
scribing it  as  a  compound  of  vulgar  superstition  and 
priestly  deception  ;  of  needless  sci'upularity  and  monk- 
ish austerity  ;  ^vhile  some  of  its  lionest  but  misjudging 
friends  have  unhappily  contributed  to  the  same  preju- 
dice, by  carrying  into  their  religious  sj^stem  a  rigid  and 
morose,  or  a  melancholy  and  desponding  spirit. 

The  public  teachers  of  religion,  tlierefore,  cannot  do 
it  more  important  service,  than  by  \'indicating  it  from 
those  false  and  injurious  aspersions ;  and  holding  it  up 
in  its  native  and  attractive  charms,  as  the  soul  of  human 


114  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Ser.  X, 

happiness.  Let  me  then  request  the  candid  attention 
of  all,  and  particularly  oi-  the  youthful  part 
OF  this  audience,  while  we  attempt  to  illustrate  the 
sweetness  of  religion. 

In  the  first  place ^  religion  gives  us  the  best  enjoy- 
ment of  our  temporal  blessings  ;  for  it  teaches,  or  in- 
cludes a  right  estimation,  and  the  wisest  improvement 
of  them  ;  which  is  the  directest  \\ay  to  extract  and  en- 
joy their  sweetness.  It  subdues  that  immoderate  esti- 
mation of  temporal  good,  which  forever  hinders  the 
true  enjoyment  of  it ;  \\hich  creates  a  feverish  ardour, 
a  tormenting  impatience  in  pursuing  it,  a  slavish  anx- 
iety in  possessing  it,  disappointment  and  loathing  in 
the  fruition,  and  vexatious  uneasiness  in  the  loss  of  it. 
Religious  wisdom  dictates  a  rational,  calm,  and  temper- 
ate use  of  the  bounties  of  Heaven.  It  enables  us  to  en- 
joy them  without  satiety,  and  to  possess  them  without 
anxiety  ;  to  seek  them  without  impatience,  and  to  lose 
them  without  despair.  It  greatly  enlarges  the  sphere, 
and  improves  the  relish,  of  our  common  enjo}'ments  ; 
for  it  keeps  both  body  and  mind  in  a  right  posture  for 
them  ;  it  elevates  and  crowns  the  pleasure,  which  they 
naturally  afford,  by  bringing  to  tlie  entertainment  a 
sound,  incorrupt  mind,  a  thankful,  contented,  and  cheer- 
ful heart ;  a  heart,  which  adores  and  enjoys  God  in  all 
these  streams  of  his  beneficence.  Thus  it  adds  intellec- 
tual and  spiritual  to  earthly  joys,  and  gives  a  pure,  senti- 
mental fruition  of  the  most  common  objects  and  enjo}  - 
ments. 

What  a  rich  flavour  must  this  impart  to  all  the  bless- 
ings, ^vith  w hich  we  are  loaded  ;  to  the  Aarious  s\\ eets 
of  health  and  case,  of  food  and  raiment,  of  rest  and  se- 
curity ;  to  the  satisfaction  resulting  from  agreeable  con- 
nexions, delicate  friendship,  peaceful  habitations,  pros- 
perous business ;  to  the  pleasure,  which  we  take  in  be- 


Ser.  X.]  OF  RELIGION.  115 

holding  the  shining  sun,  the  descending  rain,  the  flow- 
ers of  spring,  the  ripened  stores  of  summer  and  au- 
tumn !  How  is  the  dehght  of  all  these  unspeakably 
heightened,  when  we  see  them  all  streaming  down  to 
us  from  the  overflowing  goodness  of  a  generous,  affec- 
tionate Friend,  who  regards  us  with  wonderful  kind- 
ness, and  to  whom  our  hearts  are  supremely  attached ! 
What  sweetness  must  this  infuse  into  our  daily  pleas- 
ures and  our  nightly  slumbers.  "  Thou  hast  put 
gladness  in  my  heart,"  says  an  ancient  saint,  "  more, 
than  in  the  time,  when  their  corn  and  their  wine  increas- 
ed. I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peac^  and  sleep  ;  for 
thou.  Lord,  only  makest  me  to  dwell  in  safety." 

///  tJie  second  place,  religion  denies  us  no  pleasure, 
but  such  as  directly  tends  to  sorrow.      The  gratilica- 
tions,  which  it  prohibits,  are  either  very  sordid  and  pol- 
luting, or  very  dangerous  and  destructive.     What  we 
commonly  call  unlawful  pleasures,   are  many  of  them 
enjoyments  in  themselves  innocent  and  useful,  but  pro- 
cured by  unwarrantable  means,  or  enjoyed  in  a  wrong 
manner  ;  that  is,  either  obtained  by  injustice,  or  abused 
by  intemperance.     But  certainly  neither  injustice,    nor 
intemperance  has  any  real  pleasure  annexed  to  it.     On 
the  contrary,   unless  a  man  have  a  very  unnatural  tem- 
per of  mind  and  body,  injustice  must  be  painful  to  the 
former  as  M'ell,  as  intemperance  to  the  latter.      Those 
pleasures,  then,  w^hich  men  seek,  and  fancy  they  enjoy, 
under  the  banner  of  vice,  may  be  equally  found,  yea 
enjoyed  with  great  ad.vantage,   under  the  standard  and 
regulations  of  Christian  virtue.     And  if  religion  forbids 
to  her  votaries  drunkenness  and  uncleanness,  falsehood 
and  unrighteousness,  envy  and  slander,  malice  and  re- 
venge ;  it  is  because  these  vices  would  deprive  them  of 
true  pleasure,  and  subject  them  to  constant  pain,  even 
w 


•16  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Ser.  X. 

in  this  world  as  well,  as  incapacitate   them  for  happi- 
ness, and  ripen  them  for  misery  in  the  next. 

In  the  third place^  as  relif^ion  forbids  no  real  pleasure , 
GO  it  brings  no  peculiar  trouble.  In  other  words,  no 
trouble  is  the  proper  and  genuine  effect  of  religion. 

The  love  of  God  and  our  neiglibour,  which  is  a  com- 
pend  of  human  duty,  far  from  being  the  natural  parent 
of  sorrow,  is  the  pleasantest  disposition,  of  which  the 
mind  of  man  is  capable.  None  will  pretend  that  devo- 
tion  toward  God,  or  charity  to  men,  tends  to  the  injur}?^  of 
body,  mind,  or  estate  ;  while  sacrificing  to  worldly  and 
fleshly  idols  has  an  inifavourable  operation  upon  each. 
No  man  can  pretend,  that  a  genuine  trust  in  Christ  pro- 
duces such  shameful  and  vexatious  disappointments,  as 
commonly  flow  from  earthly  and  cai-nal  dependencies  ; 
or  that  Christian  sobriety  ever  leads  to  diseases,  dili- 
gence to  poverty,  humility  to  contention,  or  honesty  to 
shame. 

It  is  granted,  that  repentance  of  sin,  \Ahich  is  an  im- 
portant branch  of  Christian  duty,  carries  ^\  ith  it  a  de- 
gree of  trouble  and  uneasiness.  But  this  trouble  is  not 
the  native  fruit  of  duty,  but  of  sin  ;  for  had  mankind 
continued  in  the  perfect  exercise  of  holiness,  there 
would  have  been  no  occasion  for  repentance.  Nor  is  this 
trouble  peculiar  to  evangelical  repentance ;  for  impenitent 
sinners  have  consciences,  which  frequently  give  them  more 
exquisite  anguish,  than  the^  deepest  humiliation  can  pro- 
duce in  a  believing  penitent.  Faithless  remorse  was  far 
more  painful  to  Judas,  than  godly  sorrow  to  Peter.  Be- 
sides, there  is  a  rational,  a  dignified  pleasure  in  mourning 
for  our  unworthy  treatment  of  so  excellent  a  character,  so 
generous  a  Friend,  so  kind  a  Father,  as  the  blessed  God. 
There  is  so  much  ingenuity  and  love,  so  iruich  cheer- 
ing faith  and  hope  in  the  divine  mercy,  in  the  exercises 
of  gospel  repentance,  as  render  it  on  the  ^\  hole  equally 


Ser.  X.]  OF  RELIGION".  117 

pleasant  and  salutary  :  and  while  the  humble  penitent  is 
distressed  with  a  sense  of  his  own  baseness,  he  is  pro- 
portionably  delighted  with  a  view  of  the  beauty  and  dig- 
nity of  Jehovah,  and  comforted  with  an  assurance  of  his 
forgiving  love.  Let  us  suppose  two  sinners  on  the 
bed  of  death,  or  two  condemned  criminals  going  to  the 
place  of  execution.  The  one  exercises  a  filial,  evan- 
gelical repentance,  a  repentance  springing  from  love, 
and  enlivened  by  gospel  faith  and  hope.  The  other 
feels  all  the  pangs  of  conscious  guilt,  and  all  the  terrors 
of  his  approaching  fate,  '  without  any  cordial  affec- 
tion to  that  Being,  whom  he  has  offended,  to  that  law, 
which  he  has  violated,  and  to  that  Saviour,  who  offers 
him  forgiveness  ;  and  without  any  cheering  confidence 
in  the  divine  mercy,  or  a  future  happy  immortality.  I 
ask,  which  of  these  two  kinds  of  sorrow  is  the  most 
comfortable  and  soothing  ?  Is  not  the  gloomy,  despair- 
ing sorroAV  of  the  last  character  a  dreadful  foretaste  and 
beginning  of  damnation  ?  While  the  humble  and  pious 
repentance  of  the  former  is  a  sweet  pledge  of  future  for- 
oiveness  and  blessedness. 

As  to  the  duties  oi  self- denial ond  mortification,  which 
Christianity  requires,  the  pain  attending  these  is  always 
the  genuine  offspring  of  sin.  Nor  is  this  peculiar  to  the 
religious  character.  For  the  wicked  man  is  often 
obliged  to  deny,  yea,  to  suppress  one  corruption  in  or- 
der to  gratify  another;  his  lusts  and  passions  are  so  op- 
posite and  contradictory,  as  render  his  soul  a  Babel  of 
confusion.  But  Christian  mortification  strikes  at  the 
root  of  this  e\  il,  and  gradually  restores  tlie  mind  to  a 
regular,  tranquil,  and  happy  state. 

With  respect  to  siiff'ering  for  righteousness^  sake,  to 
which  religion  may  sometimes  call  us ;  not  to  urge 
that  such  sufferings  properly .  originate,  not  from  the 
Christian  spirit,  but  from  an  opposite  source,  and  will 


118  ON  THE  PLEASURES  ISek.  X. 

be  overruled  for  the  good  of  persecuted  saints,  and  the 
advancement  of  the  Christian  cause  ;  I  will  only  ob- 
serve, that  the  faithful  soldier  of  Christ  takes  a  gene- 
rous delight  in  suffering  for  so  glorious  a  Master  ;  and 
triumphs  in  the  thought,  that  every  reproach,  every 
pang,  which  he  endures  for  Him  here,  will  be  a  pearl, 
an  orient  diamond  in  his  everlasting  crown  ;  and,  in  the 
mean  time,  that  his  benevolent  Leader  will  afford  him 
succours  and  consolations,  equal  and  far  superior  to  his 
sufferings;  for  these  are  but  human,  while  the  com- 
forts are  divine ;  these,  are  but  temporary,  while  the  joy 
and  glory  are  eternal.     Which  leads  me  to  add, 

///  the  fourth  place^  While  religion  brings  no  trouble, 
at  least  without  an  overbalance  of  delight,  it  introduces 
a  new  set  of  pleasures,  peculiar  to  itself;  pleasures  for 
nobler,  purer,  and  sweeter,  than  can  arise  from  any  oth- 
er source.  As  the  soul  is  the  proper  seat  of  happiness, 
so  the  felicity  of  a  rational  spirit  must  be  derived  from 
spiritual  and  divine  objects.  Such  objects  religion  pre- 
sents for  our  contemplation  and  enjoyment  ;  and  at  the 
same  time  disposes  the  mind  for  a  right  entertainment 

of  them. 

In  the  first  place,  it  rectifies  and  harmonizes  the  sev- 
eral powers  of  the  soul.  The  intellectual,  moral,  and 
inferior  faculties  of  wicked  men  are  in  a  vitiated,  discor- 
dant state,  which  creates  a  wild  uproar  in  their  breasts. 
But  when  true  piety  descends  into  the  soul,  it  rectifies 
these  disorders  ;  it  clarifies  and  brightens  the  intellect ; 
reduces  and  regulates  the  rebellious  will  and  affections  ; 
it  serenes,  it  sweetens  all  the  inward  powers,  and  dif- 
fuses over  them  the  very  dawn  of  heaven.  Pure  love 
row  springs  up  and  reigns  in  the  heart ;  divine  contem- 
plation takes  ample  and  bright  surveys ;  gentle  meek- 
ness enjoys  a  humble  delight ;  faith  leans  securely  upon 
the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  hope  with  longing  eyes  beholds 


Ser.  X.]  OF  RELIGION.  1 19 

and  anticipates  the  pleasant  regions,  the  full  joys  of  im- 
mortality. What  sources  of  godlike  pleasure  are  these^ 
The  soul  now  feels  itself  in  a  right,  a  health}^  and  vig- 
orous state ;  it  can  sensibly  perceive  the  very  image 
and  life  of  God,  in  some  measure,  transfused  through 
its  whole  constitution.  This  may  seem  a  strong  and 
bold  expression  ;  but  inspiration  fully  \\'arrants  it,  when 
it  describes  good  men  as  "  partakers  of  the  divine  na- 
ture," and  "  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God."  What 
divine  pleasure  is  wrapped  up  in  the  idea ! 

And,  as  the  conscious  possession  of  such  a  divine 
temper  must  be  unspeakably  pleasing,  so  must  the  ex- 
ercise of  it  in  a  series  of  good  actions.  It  is  as  much 
the  nature  of  holiness  to  be  active,  as  of  the  sun  to 
shine,  of  the  flame  to  ascend,  or  ^  garden  of  pleasant 
spices  to  send  forth  a  grateful  perfume.  Now  acts  of 
goodness  must  be  delightful,  so  far  at  least,  as  a  holy 
principle  is  the  agent ;  for  such  actions  being  exercises 
of  a  holy  inclination  or  appetite,  this  appetite  is  grati- 
fied, and  has  a  rich  entertainment  in  the  performance. 
Thus  it  is  a  noble  pleasure  to  a  benevolent  heart  to  do 
good,  and  make  others  as  happy  as  itself ;  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  the  compassionate  soul  tq  relieve  the  wretched,  and 
supply  the  children  of  want ;  it  is  a  pleasure  to  the  pi- 
ous and  devout  soul  to  do  the  will,  and  promote  tlie 
e-lory  of  God,  and  carry  on  a  sacred  intercourse  with 
Him  by  meditation,  prayer,  and  praise,  and  an  attend- 
ance on  all  the  institutions  of  his  worship.  In  short, 
pleasure  waits  on  every  step  of  a  religious  life ;  every 
virtue,  and  every  act  of  each  virtue,  produces  an  iur 
stantaneous  satisfaction  ;  nay,  the  civil  and  common  ac- 
tions of  the  good  man,  being  influenced  and  consecrat- 
ed by  religious  principles,  are  attended  with  some  holy 
delie-ht. 


120  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Ser.  X. 

This  pleasure  of  doing  well  is  an  angelic  satisfac- 
tion. The  ministering  spirits  of  God's  court  above 
fly  with  rapture  to  execute  bis  holy  and  benevolent  or- 
ders. It  v^as  the  meat  and  drink  of  our  Saviour  hun- 
self  to  do  his  Father's  will,  and  finish  his  work.  "I 
delight  to  do  thy  will,  O  my  God,"  was  his  language 
at  his  first  undertaking  the  mediatorial  office.  It  is  an 
infinite  delight  to  the  great  Jehovah  to  do  good  ;  that  is, 
to  act  like  himself.  So  good  men  find  a  degree  of  the 
same  delight  in  the  exercises  of  goodness.  Thus  wis- 
dom's "  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her 
paths  are  peace." 

Farther,  to  these  pleasures  of  action,  religion  adds 
tliose  of  knoivledgc  and  contemplation.  Many  philo- 
sophic geniuses  have  dcHghtfully  spent  }'^eai-s  in  con- 
templating merely  natural  truths ;  in  diving  deep  into 
the  secrets  of  nature,  in  soaring  aloft  among  the  stars, 
and  ranging  the  v/ide  field  of  human  science  ;  and  when 
some  new  discoveries  have  opened  to  their  minds,  they 
seem  to  have  been  even  ravished  and  transported.  But 
human  science  is  infinitely  beneath  divine  wisdom.  The 
Christian  in  contemplation  rises  to  the  Being  of  beings, 
to  the  great  Original  and  Sum  of  truth,  and  surveys  the 
perfections  of  nature's  supreme  Author  and  Director  ; 
surveys  the  grandeur,  power,  holiness,  goodness,  and 
mercy  of  the  Redeemer,  who  is  the  image  of  the  invisi- 
ble God,,  and  who  has,  in  his  person,  doctrine,  and 
work,  as  it  were,  brought  do\vn  the  Deity,  and  placed 
him  before  us,  in  a  near,  familiar,  and  most  engaging 
light.  How  exalted  the  entertainment,  which  tiows 
from  the  view  of  such  grand,  interesting,  saluttuy  truths, 
as  the  Son  of  God  has  revealed ;  truths,  which  pro- 
claim **  glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  peace  and  good 
will  to  men  ;"  whicli  hold  up  to  the  anxious,  inquiring 


Ser.  X.l  OF  RELIGION.  121 

mind,  both  the  chief  good  of  man,  and  the  sure  way  to 
arrive  at  the  enjoyment  of  it ! 

The  true  knowledge  of  these  great  objects  is  light 
and  life  to  the  soul ;  our  Saviour  himself  calls  it  *'  life 
eternal."  When  the  soul  finds  this,  it  obtains  some- 
thing, in  which  it  can  securely  and  delightfully  rest; 
something,  which  gives  peace  to  the  conscience,  and 
satisfaction  to  the  heart,  and  which  continued  will  make 
one  happy  forever.  Oh,  what  a  transporting  surprise 
seizes  the  mind,  when  it  first  savingly  beholds  the  light 
of  evangelical  truth !  It  finds  itself  in  a  new  and  beauti- 
ful world  !  What  other  subjects  of  contemplation  can 
yield  a  pleasure  like  this  !  Here  the  object  knowai  is  not 
trivial,  uncertain,  foreign,  or  uninteresting  to  us ;  but 
dignified,  certain,  infinitely  interesting,  and  com- 
pletely satisfying.  And,  if  the  knowledge  of  wisdom 
was  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb,  under  the 
dark  dispensation  of  the  Old  Testament,  how  much 
brighter  and  sweeter  must  it  be  to  good  men  under  the 
full  blaze  of  gospel  light. 

And  the  pleasure  ojf  this  contemplation  will  be  height- 
ened in  proportion  to  thier  evidence  of  special  interest  in 
the  objects  and  blessings  contemplated.  It  must  be 
dreadful  to  the  thinking  mind,  while  surveying  the 
works  and  bless ijigs  of  nature  and  grace,  to  reflect, 
"  The  great  Author  of  all  these  is  not  my  God  !"  But 
what  a  blessed  reflection  to  the  pious  soul,  to  say,  witli 
comfortable  assurance,  "  The  mighty  Lord  of  the 
world,  who  kindled  up  the  sun  and  stars,  poured  forth 
the  sea,  and  balanced  the  earth,  who  holds  this  stupen- 
dous universe  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  who  is 
rearing  up  a  new  world  of  grace  upon  the  basis  of  his 
own  Son's  death  and  resurrection  ;  this  mighty  and  glo- 
rious Lord  is  my  Father,  and  all  the  treasures  of  his 
kingdom,  both  of  nature^  grace,  and  glory  are  mine.*' 


122  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Ser.  X, 

It  deserves  a  distinct  mention,  that  it  is  a  source  of 
great  pleasure  to  the  pious  Christian  to  behold  the  beau- 
ty, and  enjoy  the  smiles  of  Christ,  the  Mediator. 

Christ  Jesus  is  a  most  wonderful,  unparalleled  per- 
son ;  possessed  at  once  of  all  the  perfections  of  Deity, 
and  all  the  engaging  virtues  of  humanity ;  infinitely 
more  majestic  than  the  angels,  and  yet  the  meek- 
est and  most  humble  man,  that  ever  appeared ;  he  is 
higher  than  our  conceptions  can  reach,  and  yet  has 
stooped  beneath  the  grave,  has  stooped  to  receive  into 
his  embraces  the  meanest  and  worst  of  mankind.  His 
person  and  qualities,  his  instructions  and  works,  are  all 
■wonders,  and  an  inexhaustible  source  of  admiring,  rap- 
turous entertainment  to  the  contemplative  Christian. 
This  mysterious,  glorious  person  is  the  believer's 
friend  ;  and  what  pleasure  must  arise  from  the  united 
discoveries  of  his  glories  and  his  love  ! 

To  these  pleasures  of  action  and  contemplation,  the 
godly  man  can  join  those  of  reflection,  and  hereby  en- 
joys the  past  as  well,  as  the  present.  Though  the  time 
past  is  irrecoverably  lost,  considered  as  a  part  of  dura- 
tion ;  yet  in  a  moral  view  it  is  not  lost  to  the  man,  ^vho 
has  filled  it  up  with  offices  of  piety  and  benevolence. 

The  past  days  and  years  of  the  slothful  and  irrelig- 
ious, as  one  observes,  are  worse  than  lost ;  for  they  ha\  e 
no  fiuit  from  them,  and  yet  must  account  for  them  to 
their  final  Judge.  Vice,  which  allured  them  with  her 
deceitful  charms,  as  she  approached  in  a  temptation, 
has  quite  another  appearance,  w-hen  viewed  behind,  and 
frights  them  with  her  ghastly  train.  The  guilt}'  pleas- 
ures, to  \A'hich  they  sacrificed  their  most  valuable  inter- 
ests and  hopes,  turn  to  gall  and  ^vormwood  in  the 
remembrance. 

If  there  were  any  such  art,  as  that  of  forgetfulness, 
the  sinner  many  times  \\  ould  gladly  learn  it ;  but  be- 


Ser.  X.]  GF  RELIGION.  123 

cause  he  cannot  so  easily  blot  things  out  of  his  memory ; 
he  therefore  endeavours  to  stifle  his  conscience,  which 
he  dreads  as  a  mortal  foe  to  his  peace.  But  the  pious 
man  has  no  reason  to  regard  conscience,  as  his  enemy  ; 
for  it  encourages  him  to  continue  in  well  doing,  by  giv- 
ing him  a  heartfelt  reward  for  his  past  works  of  faith 
and  love.  Conscience  anticipates  the  sentence  of  the 
last  day,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant."  In 
short,  as  reflection  is  one  of  the  distinguishing  faculties 
of  man,  so  it  may  be  rendered  a  source  both  of  very 
great  profit  and  pleasure.  It  is  so  to  the  diligent  and 
fruitful  Christian.  "His  yesterdays  look  backward 
with  a  smile."  He  has  a  pleasure  in  reflection,  with 
which  none  of  the  pleasures  of  sin  can  compare ;  a  plea- 
sure, v.'hich  he  can  repeat,  \\ hen  he  will ;  and  the  more 
valuable,  in  that  while  it  springs  from  time  past,  it  runs 
on  into  the  future  ;  for, 

I  must  add,  religion  gives  its  votaries  the  pleasures  of 
hope  ;  a  hope,  vvdiose  object  and  foundation  are  most  ex- 
cellent and  stable,  for  it  has  for  its  basis  the  immutable 
promises  of  God  ;  and  its  object  is  no  less,  than  eternal 
life  in  the  full  fruition  of  his  infinite  beauty  and  love. 

Hope  is  the  great  enlivener  of  the  world  ;  the  grand 
spring  both  of  Imman  activitj"  and  felicity.  What  then 
must  be  its  efficacy,  when  it  terminates  on  an  infinite, 
everlasting  good ;  when  it  prelibates  the  substantial, 
elevated  glories  of  immortality  !  Wliat  a  tenfold  value 
and  sweetness  does  this  hope  impart  to  the  Christian's 
present  temporal  and  spiritual  enjoyments!  What 
vigour  and  fortitude  must  it  inspire  under  the  prospect 
or  pressure  of  evils  ! 

Finally,  as  religion  heightens  the  pleasures  and  soothes 
the  distresses  of  life,  so  it  disarms  the  tenors,  and  sof- 
tens the  agonies  of  death.     There  is  something  dread- 

X 


124  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Se:r.  X. 

fill  in  death,  in  tlie  view  both  of  nature  and  of  con- 
science.  But  true  religion,  founded  on  Christian  prin- 
ciples, inspires  such  sentiments  and  habits,  such  reflec- 
tions and  prospects,  as  give  peace  and  fortitude  to  the 
mind  in  the  '^'iew  and  actual  encounter  of  this  last  enemy. 
It  begets  such  a  firm  confidence  in  the  mercy  of  God, 
such  a  sweet  assurance  of  his  love,  such  a  meek  submis- 
sion to  his  Avill,  such  a  holy  contempt  of  this  world,  and 
such  a  relish  and  hope  of  tlie  heavenly  felicity,  as  ena- 
ble good  men  to  meet  death  with  steady  composiuc, 
and  sometimes  with  elevated,  triumphant  joy. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

Kow  gi'oundless  and  pernicious  is  the  idea  of  those, 
who  \  iew  religion  as  an  unpleasant,  or  melancholy  thing! 
What  enemies  to  mankind  as  well,  as  to  themselves, 
are  those,  \\  ho  fight  against  the  Christian  system ;  a  sys- 
tem, which  gives  to  religion  its  brightest,  fairest  form, 
and  which  equalh'  befriends  our  present  and  our  future 
felicity  !  Its  very  restrictions  and  duties  as  well,  as  its  en- 
couragements and  benefits,  are  all  benevolently  adapted 
to  our  immediate  advantage  and  comfort.  Those,  there- 
fore, who  labour  to  sub\ert  the  Christian  faith,  or  to 
weaken  its  influence,  are  cruelly  endeavouring  to  rob  us 
of  our  best  friend,  the  only  prop  and  solace  of  our 
existence  ! 

Let  us  inquire  whether  we  are  possessed  of  religious 
wisdom,  whether  \\e  have  tasted  the  sweets  of  this  di- 
vine food.  If  we  ha\e,  religion  is  to  us  a  source  of  real 
pleasure  :  even  now  we  prize  it  above  all  other  dainties  ; 
Me  hunger  and  thirst  after  more ;  we  are  tra\elling  in 
w isdom's  ways  with  growing  acti^'ity  and  delight ;  and 
we  are  using  our  influence  in  our  social  spheres  to  bring 
Others  to  share  \\ith  us  in  the  divine  entertainment. 

Sinners   are    kit  without  any  reasonable   objection 


Rer.  X.5  of  religion.  12^ 

against  religion.  Few,  I  hope  in  a  land  of  light,  will 
question,  whether  the  state  of  the  godly  in  a  future 
world  is  better  than  that  of  the  ^vickcd.  Yet  many- 
doubtless  are  prejudiced  against  it,  on  account  of  the 
present  difficulties  which  attend  it.  But  such  prejudices 
arc  entirely  groundless.  For  the  wise  man,  and  by  him 
the  all-wise  God,  intimate,  that  the  pleasure  of  religion, 
CAcn  now,  is  like  eating  honey  and  the  honeycomb.  If 
then  you  refuse  the  ways  of  religion^  under  the  idea  of 
their  being  unpleasant  and  toilsome,  you  give  infinite 
wisdom  and  truth  the  lie.  If  you  say  or  think,  that  the 
paths  of  holiness  are  full  of  gloomy  melancholy,  M'hich 
will  sink  and  deaden  your  spirits,  you  impeach  the  divine 
\eracity,  and  you  conti'adict  and  offend  the  generation  of 
God's  children.  Will  you  object,  that  religion  iviil  be 
attended  with  shame  ?  What !  are  you  ashamed  to  eat 
the  honey  and  the  honeycomb,  the  repast  of  angels,  the 
bread  of  heaven,  because  you  may  be  ridiculed  by  some 
stupid  or  distempered  creatures,  who  have  no  relish  for 
such  dainties  ?  Will  you  despise  wisdom,  which  makes 
the  face  to  shine,  merely  because  fools  hate  knoM'ledge  ? 
Or  can  you  object,  since  wisdom  is  so  excellent,  against 
seeking  it  soon  ? 

Ho\v  very  great  will  be  the  final  reward  and  happiness 
of  the  godly  !  If  the  pleasures  of  religion  are  so  sweet, 
even  in  this  state  of  imperfection  and  trial,  "what  ^vill 
they  be  in  the  state  of  perfection  and  retribution  !  In 
heaven  the  bliss  of  good  men  will  be  infinite,  most  ex- 
cellent in  kind,  and  boundless  in  duration.  How  little 
reason  have  the  righteous,  then,  to  envy  the  prosperity 
of  the  wicked;  or  to  repine  under  affliction,  or  to  in- 
dulge an  imeasy,  disconsolate,  or  unthankful  temper ! 

Let  me  close  with  an  affectionate  address. 

Let  me  recommend  this  wisdom  from  above  to  yo^i, 
my  fathers,  who  are  grey  with  years,  and  bending  to  the 


126  ON  THE  PLEASURES  [Ser.  X. 

tomb.  Your  relish  for  the  dehghts  of  sense,  for  the  ac- 
tive scenes  and  gay  amusements  of  Ufe  is  greatly  im- 
paired and  almost  at  an  end.  Oh,  fly  to  the  nobler  plea- 
sures and  hopes  of  religion,  as  the  only  substitute  for 
these  perishing  joys.  Make  a  seasonable  retreat  from  the 
cares  and  gratifications  of  the  vv'orld;  let  your  last  days 
be  chiefi}'  devoted  to  religious  improvement,  to  a  grow- 
ing preparation  for  heaven ;  and  be  careful  to  leave  your 
aged,  dying  advice  to  }^our  children  and  the  rising  age, 
in  favour  of  the  SA\'eetness  and  excellence  of  religion  ; 
"■  My  son,  eat  thou  honey,  because  it  is  good  ;  and  the 
honeycomb,  Aihich  is  sweet  to  thy  taste  ;  so  shall  the 
knowledge  of  wisdom  be  to  thy  soul :  When  thou  hast 
found  it,  then  shall  there  be  a  reward,  and  thy  expecta- 
tion shall  not  be  cut  oft". " 

Let  me  next  remind  you,  my  brethren,  who  are  in  the 
meridian  of  life,  that  as  yours  is  the  very  age  of  manly 
wisdom,  it  becomes  you  to  shew  your  superior  judg- 
ment by  obeying  the  counsel  of  Solomon  in  the  text. 
Remember,  among  all  your  busy  cares  and  pursuits, 
tliat  "  the  merchandise  of  wisdom  is  better  than  the 
merchandise  of  silver,  and  the  gain  thereof  than  fine 
gold."  If  you  acquire  it,  it  will  draw  down  the  divine 
benediction  on  your  -worldly  pursuits,  and  give  a  tenfold 
value  to  your  other  gains  and  enjoyments.  But  if  you 
neglect  it,  your  greatest  -worldly  acquisitions  will  leave 
you  destitute  of  true  satisfaction  in  this  life,  and  give  a 
keen  edge  to  your  poverty  and  misery  in  the  next. 

As  to  you,  children  and  youth,  since  every  pulse,  every 
sense  calls  loud  for  pleasure,  let  me  entreat  you  to  seek  it 
in  early  religion.  Noav,  my  young  fi'icnds,  is  the  seed 
time  of  life  ;  if  you  now  sow  to  the  spirit,  you  shall  reap  a 
proportional  harvest,  either  in  a  life  of  solid,  serene  satis- 
faction here,  or  at  least,  in  rivers  of  immortal  pleasure; • 
hereafter.     Religion,  far  from  diminishing,  will  improve 


Ser.  X.]  OF  RELIGION.  127 

all  the  charms  and  innocent  dehghts  of  your  sprightly 
age. 

Finally,  Let  those  \\ho  are  destitute  of  this  wisdom, 
earnestly  seek  it.  "  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him 
ask  it  of  God,  that  gi\'eth  to  all  men  liberally  and  up- 
braideth  not ;  and  it  shall  be  given  him.  Yea,  if  thou 
criest  after  knowledge,  andliftestup  thy  voice  for  under- 
standing ;  if  thou  seekest  her  ^.s  silver,  and  searches! 
for  her  as  for  hidden  treasures  ;  then  slialt  thou  under- 
stand the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  find  the  knowledge  of 
God."  And  let  those,  who  have  it,  feel  and  exhibit 
the  pleasures  of  it,  manifest  a  noble  contempt  of  sensual 
and  vicious  delights,  a  cheerful  resignation,  when  strip- 
ped of  earthly  comforts;  and  look,  and  long,  and  ripen 
for  that  world,  where  their  graces  and  joys  shall  be  ma- 
ture and  perfect. 


@)erm0n  XL 


The  Want  of  a  practical  Regard  to  religious 
Truth,  the  Cause  of  dangerous  specula- 
tive Errors. 


2  Thessalonians  ii.    10,  11,  and  12. 

Because  they  received  not  the  lo've  of  the  truths  that  they 
might  be  saved;  for  this  cause  God  shall  send  them 
strong  delusion^  that  they  should  beliei^e  a  lie  ;  that  they 
all  might  be  damned^  who  believed  not  the  trut/i,  but 
had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness. 

jL  he  apostle,  in  this  chapter,  predicts  a  grand  aposta- 
sy in  the  Christian  church  ;  which,  from  sniall  begin- 
nings, should  grow  up  to  a  monstrous  lieight,  so  as  to 
form  an  unparalleled  system  of  religious  t}'ranny,  fraud, 
and  corruption. 

The  description  given  of  this  apostate  antichristian 
power,  of  its  rise,  its  rule,  its  subjects,  and  its  fall,  so 
exactly  and  exclusively  agree  to  the  papal  usurpation 
or  the  bishop  of  Rome,  that  little  reasonable  doubt  can 
remain,  thatMw  power  is  "the  man  of  sin,"  the  "  son  of 
perdition,"  whom  the  spirit  of  prophesy  here  character- 
izes and  devotes  to  destruction.  The  text  describes 
the  persons,  who  voluntarily  submit  to  this  corrupt  pow- 
er, and  shall  perish  \\  ith  it.  'J'hey  are  such,  as  never 
cordially  love  the  trudi,  but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteous- 
ness; and  hence  were  easily  seduced  from  those  sound 
doctrines,  \\'hich  they  always  secretly  disliked,  into  such 
false  principles  as  suited  their  depraved  inclinations  and 
practice.  Hence  God,  by  a  righteous  judicial  act,  gives 
them  up  to  delusion  and  Vvickedness,  and  thus  seals  their 
landless  destruction. 


SER.XI.]    THE  CAUSE  OF  DANGEROUS  ERRORS.    129 

Though  the  words  before  us  primarily  refer  to  the 
wiHing  subjects  of  antichrist,  they  will  fairly  admit  of  a 
much  larger  application,  and  may  be  reduced  to  the  fol- 
lowing general  proposition  ;  viz.  that  the  want  of  a 
sincere  practical  regard  to  religious  truth  has  both  a  nat- 
ural and  moral  tendency  to  lead  men  into  the  most  dan- 
gerous speculative  errors. 

The  great  sin,  for  which  the  persons  in  the  text  are 
so  severely  condemned,  is  designated  by  their  not  re- 
ceiving the  love  of  the  truth.  This  designation  applies, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  all,  who  profess  or  enjoy 
the  Christian  religion,  but  whose  hearts  are  not  re- 
conciled to  its  pure,  self  denying  doctrines  and 
laws.  Their  understandings,  perhaps,  are  constrain- 
ed by  evidence  to  admit  these  doctrines,  as  true ;  but 
their  wills  and  affections  rise  up  against  them,  as  severe, 
as  inimical  to  their  favourite  pursuits  and  gratifications. 
Their  haughty  and  sensual,  their  sordid  or  revengeful 
spirits  disrelish  and  spurn  a  system  of  religion  and  mor- 
als, so  holy  and  humble,  so  generous  and  forgiving,  so 
meek  and  peaceable,  as  that  of  the  gospel ;  a  system, 
which  not  only  forbids  and  seeks  to  exterminate  their 
dearest  lusts,  but  threatens  all  the  votaries  of  these  idols 
with  everlasting  punishment.  As  the  thief  or  midnight 
assassin  abhors  the  light  of  day,  not  because  light  is  in 
itself  odious  to  him,  but  because  he  views  it  as  menac- 
ing him  with  public  detection  and  ignominious  punish- 
ment ;  so  the  sinner  hates  the  light  of  gospel  truth, 
because  it  exposes,  and  affixes  disgrace  and  ruin  to  per- 
sons of  his  dark,  iniquitous  character.  His  enmity  to 
religious  truth  is  therefore  rather  consequential,  than  di- 
rect ;  that  is,  he  opposes  it  not  as  truth,  but  as  a  mortal 
foe  to  his  comfort  and  security  in  a  sinful  course. 
There  is  such  a  natural  correspondence  between  the 
human  understanding  and  truth,  that  the  mind  of  man 


130  ON  THE  CAUSE  [Ser.XL 

cannot  reject  truth,  or  embrace  falsehood  as  ,such. 
When  therefore  the  text  represents  wicked  men,  as  not 
receiving-  the  truth,  and  as  believing  a  lie  ;  the  meaning^ 
is,  that  the  opposition  of  their  wills  and  practice  to  the 
])ure  maxims  of  divine  truth  induces  such  disorder  and 
blindness  upon  tlieir  understandings,  that  they  come  to 
view  religious  objects  in  an  inverted  shape  ;  they  view 
moral  and  evangelical  truth  under  the  odious  garb, 
which  belongs  to  falsehood,  and  a  lie  under  the  allur- 
ing aspect,  which  is  proper  to  truth.  Thus  the  infidel- 
ity of  their  hearts  and  lives  at  length  gains  over  their 
judgment  to  its  side,  and  produces  a  harmony  between 
their  inclinations  and  principles  ;  which  brings  us  to 
point  out  more  distinctly  hov/  the  want  of  a  practical 
love  to  the  truth  natiu-ally  leads  to  a  speculative  rejec- 
tion of  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  draws  away  the  understanding 
fi-ojri  a  close  attention  to  it,  and  thus  hinders  it  from 
perceiA'ing  its  e\'idence,  certainty,  and  importance. 
Deep,  reiterated,  and  earnest  inquiry  after  religious 
truth  is  necessary  to  a  clear  and  unwavering  reception 
of  it.  But  those,  who  cherish  corrupt  afiections,  which 
are  a\'erse  to  the  purity  of  divine  truth,  Avill,  by  natural 
consequence,  turn  away  their  thoughts  from  an  object 
so  unpleasing,  to  some  more  agreeable  topic.  They 
will  not  suffer  theh'  minds  to  dwell  upon  the  evidence 
or  reality  of  these  things,  which  they  heartily  wish  were 
neither  e\'ident  nor  real.  And  when  they  ha\e  thus 
expelled  these  unwelcome  ideas,  the  contrary  aiid  more 
pleasing  notions  find  an  easy  admittance  into  their  nak- 
ed, unguarded  understandings. 

Secondly.  A  heart  opposed  to  strict  religion  fills  tlic 
mind  vrith  prejudice  and  partiality  in  all  its  inquiries* 
and  reasonings  upon  it.  A  man  of  this  description  has 
really  prejudged  the  cause  ;  has  previously  determined 


See.  XI.]  DANGEROUS  ERRORS.  131 

to  find  the  Christian  doctrine  to  be  either  false  or  per- 
nicious, or  at  best  a  needless  and  contemptible  systetn- 
The  influence  of  corrupt  prejudice  to  pervert  and  dark- 
en the  mental  eye  is  beautifully  illustrated  by  our   Sa- 
viour, when  he  says,   *'  If  thine  eye  be  single^  thy  whole 
body  shall  be  full  of  light,"  that  is,  nothing  extraneous 
must  cleave  to  the  eye  in  the  act  of  seeing  ;  it  must  be 
single,  that  is,  pure,  simple,  unmixed,  be  left  entirely  to 
itself  and  its  object;  then  thy  ^vhole  body  will  be  full  of 
light.     But  if  the  eye  be  obstructed  either  by  some  cov- 
ering, mote,  disease,  or  injurious  accident,  the  light  is 
either  shut  out  or  obscured,  and  the  object  beheld  in  a 
very  partial  and  erroneous  manner.      All  this  is  easily 
applied  to  intellectual  vision.     Every  act  of  sin,  'espec- 
ially  the  habitual  love  and  practice  of  it,  is  a  mote  or 
disease  in  the  eye  of  the  mind.     For  instance,  sensual 
affections  and  indulgences  send  up,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
such  gross,  defiling  vapours  from  the  lower  regions  of 
the  soul  into  the  upper,  as  effectually  obstruct  a  clear,, 
impartial  view  of  spiritual  truth.     Agreeably,  an  inspir- 
ed prophet  tells  us,  that  whoredom  and  wine  take  away 
the  heart;  that  is,  they  weaken  and  gradually  destroy 
the  intellectual  and  moral  powers. 

Covetous  affections  and  pursuits  have  likewise  a  very 
blinding  influence  on  the  understanding ;  insomuch 
that  the  most  avaricious  miser  cannot  see,  cannot  admit 
the  conviction  that  he  is  covetous;  the  sordid  vice, 
vv  hich  absorbs  and  devours  him,  and  which  strikes  eve- 
ry spectator  with  contempt  and  abhorrence,  appears  to 
himself  a  necessary,  useful,  and  perhaps  virtuous  habit ; 
and  every  measure,  which  coincides  with  his  mercenary 
views,  however  fraudulent  or  oppressive,  is  beheld  by 
him  in  a  favourable  light.  In  a  word,  there  is  perhaps 
no  vicious  passion,  which  confounds  and  infatuates  the 
reasoning  and  judging  faculty  even  of  the  greatest, 
y 


132  THE  CAUSE  OF  [Ser.  XI. 

and  in  other  respects  the  best  minds,  so  completely  as 
this.  Accordingly,  we  read  that  a  gift  or  a  bribe  blind- 
eth  the  eyes  of  the  wise,  and  perverteth  the  \\'ords  of 
the  righteous  /  yea,  that  a  gift  destroyeth  the  heart. 

Pride  and  ambition  Ivdvc  likev^  ise  a  deceptive  influ- 
ence upon  the  human  understanding.  As  covetousness 
stupifies  the  mind  by  sinking  it  too  low,  so  ambition 
dazzles  it  by  raising  it  above  itself. 

I  might  enumerate  many  other  cormpt  affections  and 
habits ;  but  the  three  just  mentioned  seem  to  be  the 
most  comprehensive  and  powerful,  as  corresponding  to 
those  three  grand  objects  of  the  depraved  heart,  plea- 
sure, profit,  and  honour,  \\  hich  form  a  mighty  threefold 
cord,  by  which  the  tempter  draws  the  world  along  after 
him  ;  drav.s  it  in  a  manner  so  rapid  and  fascinating,  as 
in  some  degree  subverts  the  very  understandings  of  his 
votaries  ;  so  as  to  make  them  believe  a  lie,  believe  that 
they  may,  yea,  ought  to  worship  these  idols  as  their 
gods,  embrace  and  pursue  them  as  their  chief  good, 
and  sacrifice  every  thing  to  the  enjoyment  of  them.  No 
wonder  then  that  the  devotees  of  these  idols  disrelish, 
and  gradually  bring  themselves  to  reject  the  pure,  self- 
denying,  and  humbling  truths  of  the  gospel,  which  for- 
bid and  condemn  their  fa\'ourite  pursuits  and  enjoy- 
ments, and  substitute  some  flattering  scheme  of  false- 
hood in  their  place. 

As  a  vicious  heart  and  life  are  thus  a  natural  and 
fruitful  source  of  speculative  error ;  so  they  have  a  mor- 
al tendency  to  the  same  pernicious  effect ;  in  other 
words,  they  often  provoke  God  to  give  men  up  to  fatal 
delusions.  This  is  expressly  asserted  in  the  text,  re- 
specting a  particular  description  of  sinners.  But  here 
a  formidable  objection  lies  in  our  way.  It  is  asked, 
how  God,  who  is  light  and  truth  in  the  abstract,  can 
send  darkness  or  delusion  into  the  minds  of  his  crca- 


Ser.XI.1  dangerous  errors.  133 

tures  ;  how  an  effect,  so  impure  and  malignant,  can  pro- 
ceed  from  a  cause,  ■v\  hich  is  perfectly  holy  and  good  ? 
For  the  solution  of  this  difficulty,  I  might  introduce  the 
general  opinion  of  metaphysical  Avriters  respecting  the 
nature  of  moral  evil,  as  radically  consisting  in  the  priva- 
tion of  good.  On  this  principle  we  may  easily  explain 
in  what  sense  God  may  be  said  to  send  delusion  into  the 
minds  of  men,  consistently  with  his  moral  perfections. 

He  may  do  it,  in  the  first  place,  by  withdrawing  from 
their  understandings  and  hearts  his  enlightening  and 
regulating  influence.     Both  Scripture  and  reason  prove, 
that  the  human  soul,  especially  in  its  present  weak  and 
corrupted  state,  is  constantly  dependent  on  the  concur- 
ring assistance  of  the  first  cause  for  the  due  exercise, 
and  even  the  continued  existence  of  its  various  powers. 
This  being  granted,  how  natural,  how  congruous  to 
reason  is  it  to  suppose,  that  God,  as  a  just  punishment 
of  the  sinner's  criminal  neglect  or  perversion  of  his  own 
intellectual  and  moral  powers,   ^vithdra^vs  from  these 
faculties  his  gracious  assistance  ;  withholds  that  light 
from  his  understanding,  and  those  restraints  from  his 
passions  and  will,  which  he  has  ungratefully  resisted 
and  forfeited,  but  \\ithout  which  he  will  immediately 
plunge  still  deeper  into  the  darkness  of  error  and  guilt» 
It  is  easy  to  see  that  such  a  divine  withdrawment  is  per- 
fectly righteous  and  holy  on  God's  part ;  for  it  is  only 
leaving  the  sinner  to  his  own  chosen  blindness  and  fol- 
ly.    It  is  equally  easy  to  see  that  the  departure  of  God 
from  this  offending  creature  will  be  certainly  followed 
with  increasing  delusion  as  well,  as  wickedness  on  the  part 
of  the  sinner !  for  his  understanding  is  hereby  left  open  and 
prepared  for  the  greatest  errors ;  while  the  evil  affections 
and  prejudices  of  his  heart  are  left  to  operate  upon  his 
perception  and  judgment  withiniited,  unrestrained  force. 

Further,  God  may  be  said  to  send  men  delusions, 
when  he  providentially  orders  out  to  them  such  circum- 


134  THE  CAUSE  OF  [Ser.XI. 

stances,  or  presents  to  them  such  objects,  as  he  knows 
will  eventually,  though  not  (efficiently  or  necessarily, 
lead  them^  into  dangerous  error.  The  Bible  is  remark- 
able for  directly  ascribing  to  God  every  thing,  which 
takes  place  in  the  course  of  his  providence,  even  such 
events  as  imply  or  result  from  the  greatest  freedom  and 
wickedness  on  the  part  of  the  immediate  actors  or  sub- 
jects. Accordingly,  when  men,  who  have  long  practi- 
cally opposed  the  truth,  are  providentially  cast  among 
such  books,  companions,  or  teachers,  as  are  exactly 
fitted  to  seduce  persons  of  their  loose  inclinations  and 
morals  from  strict  religious  principles  into  flattering  and 
destructive  errors,  and  when  their  seduction  is  in  fact 
the  consequence  of  such  a  combination  of  circumstan- 
ces ;  both  scripture  and  true  philosophy  authorise  us  to 
say,  that  God  has  sent  strong  delusion,  and  that  herein 
he  has  acted  with  untainted  purity  and  exemplary  jus- 
tice, subjecting  offenders  to  a  punishment  suited  to  their 
previous  character,  without  violating  their  libert}'  or 
participating  in  their  criminality.  In  a  manner  similar 
to  this,  are  we  to  understand  the  account  given  in  Scrip- 
ture, of  God's  putting  a  lying  spirit  in  the  mouth  of 
Ahab's  prophets.  The  meaning  of  that  figurative  repre- 
sentation is,  that  when  Ahab,  by  his  idolatry  and  \^'ick- 
edness,  had  made  himself  fully  ripe  for  destruction,  God 
permitted,  and  in  this  way  employed  the  lying  spirit, 
which  actuated  the  prophets  of  Baal  to  deceive  him  to 
his  ruin.  In  like  manner  when  Pharaoh  had  resolutely 
hardened  his  own  hem-t,  against  the  express,  repeated 
command  of  Jehovah,  enforced  by  evident  miracles; 
God  righteously  permitted  him  to  be  confirmed  in  his 
delusion  by  the  lying  wonders  of  the  magician  as  well, 
as  left  him  to  grow  more  obstinate  in  sin  by  means  of 
those  very  dispensations,  which  ought  to  have  been  im- 
proved to  an  opposite  purpose.     Agreeably,  one  method 


Ser.xij]         dangerous  errors.  135 

in  which  God  has  sent  delusion  upon  the  subjects  of 
antichrist,  has  been  by  permitting  that  apostate  power  to 
deceive  its  votaries  by  a  false  pretence  and  a  specious  im- 
itation of  miracles ;  v\hich  ha\ e  been  no  better  than  the 
impudent  boast  and  juggling  tricks  of  impostors,  or  at 
most  the  operations  of  Satan,  judicially  permitted  by 
Hea\'en,  to  strengthen  the  delusion  of  those,  who  had 
pre\'iously  and  wickedly  subjected  their  understandings 
and  conduct  to  that  system  of  falsehood  and  abomina- 
tion. Accordingly,  in  the  verse  preceding  the  text,  the 
man  of  sin  is  described  as  appearing  imth  all  power  ^  and 
signs  J  and  lying  wonders^  and  with  all  deceiveableness  of 
unrighteousness.  By  providentially  ordering,  or  permit- 
ting these  wicked  artifices  to  be  successfully  practised 
upon  those,  who  were  predisposed  to  yield  to  dieir  influ- 
ence, God  righteously  gave  them  up  to  fatal  delusion. 

This  judicial  procedure  of  divine  providence  is  here 
mentioned  as  a  very  dreadful  dispensation.  It  will  ap- 
pear to  be  so,  if  we  consider  that  it  not  only  immediateh'- 
affects  the  soul^  the  vital  part  of  man,  the  centre  of  his 
happiness  or  misery,  but  it  strikes  at  this  nobler  part  in 
its  most  distinguishing  perfection,  by  subjecting  its 
guiding  faculty  to  delusion  and  blindness.  Hereby  the 
main  office  of  the  understanding  and  conscience  is  de- 
stroyed. The  intellectual  and  judging  faculty  becomes 
a  blind  leader  of  the  blind.  The  very  light  that  is  in  us 
becomes  darkness  !  How  great  then  must  that  darkness 
be  !  A  person  in  this  situation  is  constantly  exposed  to 
stumble,  yea,  to  fall  into  the  foulest  ditch,  into  tl  .c  most 
defiling  and  destructive  enormities,  and  in  the  end,  to  fall 
into  the  pit  of  endless  perdition.  This  is  the  final  issue 
of  error,  sinfully  cherished  and  retained.  God  shall 
send  them  delusion,  that  they  all  might  be  damned,  who 
believed  not  the  truth.  The  native  and  ultimate  tenden- 
cy  of  every  religious  error  is  dangerous  to  the  health 


X36  THE  CAUSE  OF  [Ser.XL 

and  life  of  the  soul,  and  will  actually  produce  fatal  efiects, 
if  suffered  to  exert  and  diffuse  itself  unchecked.     Some 
errors  are  immediately  destructive.      Great  mistakes  in 
speculation,  indeed,  may  be  so  counteracted  in  their  in- 
fluence by  strong  habits  and  dispositions  of  goodness,  as 
not  to  destroy  tlie  A'irtue  and  final  happiness  of  their  sub- 
jects ;  while  smaller  eiTors,  embraced  by  light  or  vicious 
minds,  are  in  many  instances  eventually   fatal,   as  they 
insensibly  lead  on  to  greater,  and  thus  betray  their  soul 
into  an  inextricable  labyrinth  of 'delusion,   irregularity 
and  mischief ;  the  natural  termination  of  a\  hich  is  irre- 
trievable, everlasting  ruin.      In  re\ie\ving  our  subject, 
we  are  led  to  this  important  inference,  that  the  only  sure 
method  to  establish  our  faith  in  the  truths  of  religion, 
is  to  cherish  a  cordial  love  and  obedience  to  them.     We 
have  seen  that  the  AAant  of  this  practical  regard  to  the 
truth  is  the  main  source  of  speculative  unbelief  and  de- 
lusion.    Would  we  then  continue  stcdfast  in  the  infinite- 
ly momentous  truths  of  Christianity,  in  this  giddy,  scep- 
tical, and  licentious  age?  Let  our  affections  and  practice 
embrace  and  steadily  adhere  to  these  divine  principles  : 
let  us  supremely  love  and  delight  in  them  on  at*count  of 
their  transcendent  purity,  let  us  cheerfully  and  steadily 
regulate  our  conduct  by  them.     Let  us  rejoice  with  our 
whole  hearts,  that  there  is  such  a  salvation,  and  such 
terms  prescribed  for  the  enjoyment  of  it,   as  the  Bible 
reveals.     If  our  affections  and  practice  thus  clca"\'e  to 
the  truth,  our  understanding  and  moral  sense  will  natur- 
ally see  more  and  more  of  its  beauty,  will  be  more  can- 
did, diligent,  and  successful  in  their  inquiries  after  it,  and 
thus  be  led  into  more  comprehensi\  c  a  lews,  and  a  more 
full,  stedfast,  and  impressive  belief  of  it.     God  has  like- 
wise promised  and  actually  affords  peculiar  light  and  di- 
rection to  such  as   sincerely  love  and  practise  religious 
truth.     In  a  word,  the  specious  arguments  of  stibtle  ob- 


ser.xi.]  dangerous  errors.  137 

jectors  against  natural  or  revealed  religion  derive  their 
greatest  charm  and  seductive  influence  upon  mankind, 
from  their  own  corruptions,  from  their  secret   willing- 
ness to  be  deceived.     A  heart  and  life,  therefore,  truly 
pious  and  good,  would  be  the  shortest  and  most  satisfac- 
tory method   of  answering  all   these  objections ;     this 
w  ould  give  us  an  experimental,  and  delightful,  and  im- 
moveable assurance  of  the  truth  and  excellence  of  relie;- 
ion.     Further,  our  subject  enables  us  to  account,  in  an 
easy  and  satisfying  manner,  for  the  principal  errors,  both 
in  opinion  and  practice,  which  have  prevailed  in  the 
world.     For  example,  we  plainly   perceive  the  main 
root  of  modern  infidelity  and  atheism.      The   leading 
doctrines  of  natural  and  re\'ealed  relis-ion  are  so  necessa- 
ry  and  suitable,  so  beneficial  and  comforting  to  a  crea- 
ture,   so  framed,  circumstanced,  and  related  as  man, 
that  every  good  and  considerate  mind  must  at  least  wish 
to  find  them  true,  and  accordingly  must  carefully  attend 
and   readily  yield  to  the  abundant  evidence  by  which 
they  are  confirmed.     The  disbelief  of  these  principles, 
therefore,  especially  in  enlightened  protestant  countries, 
must  in  general  be  traced  to  a  depraved  heart  or  profli- 
gate life,  which  leads  them  first  to  dread  and  hate,  and 
at  length  to  renounce  those  truths,  which   stand  in  the 
way  of  their  favourite  propensities.     The  same  account 
may  be  given  of  the  errors  of  Popery,   which  have  so 
long  and  so  extensively  prevailed  in  the  world,  and  to 
which    our  text  immediately   refers.      It  seems  very 
strange  at  first  view,  that  creatures,  enlightened  at  once 
1)}^  reason  and  revelation,  should  be  capable  of  believing 
such  an  assemblage  of  absurdities  and  lies,  as  the  Rom- 
ish religion   contains.     But  when  we  consider  how  ex- 
actly that  system  falls  in  with  the  corrupt  inclinations  of 
the  human  heart ;  how  admirably  it  gratifies  the  a\'arice 
and  ambition  of  dieir  priests,  especially  in  hidier  orders. 


138  THE  CAUSE  OF  [Ser.  XL 

by  giving  them  the  command  both  of  the  purses  and  con- 
sciences of  the  people  ;  and  how  entirely  it  suits  and  flat- 
ters the  licentious  appetites  and  passions  o  f  mankind  at 
large,  by  allowing  them  every  vicious  indulgence  here, 
and  yet  assuring  them,  on  very  easy  conditions,  of  final 
absolution  and  blessedness,  we  may  readily  see  the  rea- 
son why  so  gi-eat  a  pait  of  the  \^orld,  especially  in  the 
dai'k  ages,  were  induced  to  believe  and  hold  fast  so 
pleasing  a  delusion.  At  the  same  time  we  doubt  not 
that  many  individuals  in  popish  countries,  of  the  best 
hearts  and  morals,  have  b}'  the  force  of  education  and 
example,  and  the  want  of  better  means  of  information, 
been  led  to  believe  and  to  sacredly  observe  the  peculiiu--^ 
ities  of  that  apostate  church.  We  might  easily  account, 
in  a  similar  manner,  for  the  prevalence  of  certain  dan- 
gerous errors  in  the  Protestant  world.  For  instance, 
how  gratifying  must-it  be  to  those,  who  are  devoted  to 
vicious  pleasures  and  pursuits,  and  who  have  long  prac- 
tically defied  the  threatenings  of  future  punishment,  how 
gratifying  to  such  persons  to  hear  that  these  threatenings 
^\  ill  never  be  executed,  that  they  have  already  spent 
their  force  upon  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  head  and  surety 
of  mankind  ;  inconsequence  of  which  the  most  aban- 
doned sinners  are  placed  on  as  fair  ground,  and  have  the 
same  unconditional  promise  of  everlasting  life,  with  the 
most  exemplary  saints.  How  pleasing  to  proud  and 
carnal  hypocrites  is  the  doctrine,  which  teaches  them  to 
regard  certain  transient  internal  feelings,  joined  with  an 
orthodox  belief,  as  a  sure  evidence  of  sa\ing faith,  con- 
version, Jind  fellowship  ^\  ith  God  ;  M'hile  they  are  led  to 
view  a  life  of  strict  virtue  and  IkjUucss  as  a  comparative- 
ly low  and  needless  attainment  ?  How  pleasing  also  to 
the  depraved  heart  is  the  opposite  idea,  that  exterior  ci- 
vility, morality,  or  devotion,  without  a  corresponding 
sanctified  temper  of  mind,   will   recommend  us  to  die 


Ser.  XL]  THE  CAUSE  OF  DANGEROUS  ERRORS.  139 

final  acceptance  of  Heaven !  These  and  similar  schemes 
of  religious  falsehood  naturally  engage  the  approbation 
and  warm  attachment  of  those,  who  hate  strict  practical 
godliness,  because  they  lend  eftcctual  aid  to  that  great 
effort  of  our  degenerate  nature,  which  aims  to  reconcile 
conscience  and  lust,  or  the  hope  of  future  happiness 
A^ith  the  present  indulgence  of  sin.  On  the  whole,  it 
^vould  be  eas}'  to  show,  if  time  permitted,  that  all  the 
fashionable  errors  of  the  present  day  are  the  natural 
growth  as  well,  as  just  punishment  of  its  licentious  taste 
and  manners.  Let  us  then  be  humble  under  a  sense  of 
those  sottish  and  dreadful  delusions,  at  which  human  na- 
ture is  capable  of  arriving ;  let  us  bless  that  divine  good- 
ness, which  has  preserved  us  so  far  from  these  evils ; 
let  us  constantly  watch  and  pray  against  them,  let  us 
beware  of  that  giddy  spirit,  those  itching  ears,  that  ex- 
treme liberality  and  freedom  of  inquiry,  which  have 
ensnared  so  many  ;  let  us  prize  and  search  the  Scrip- 
ture, receive  its  truths  into  an  honest,  unbiassed  heart, 
and  practise  them  in  a  holy,  obedient  life  :  this  only  will 
keep  us  stedfast  to  the  end. 


Sermon  xii. 


Naaman  the  Leper, 


2  Kings  v.   10 — 14. 

And  Elisha  sent  a  messenger  unto  hlm^  saying y  Go  and 
wash  in  Jordan  seijen  times ^  and  thy  fiesh  shall  come 
again  to  thee^  and  thou  shah  be  clean.  But  Naaman 
vjas  ivroth,  ami  went  aivay^  and  said.  Behold,  I 
thought,  lie  will  surely  co7ne  out  to  me,  and  stand,  atid 
call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  his  God,  and  strike  his 
handover  the  place,  and  recover  the  leper.  Are  not 
Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than 
all  the  waters  of  Israel  ?  May  I  not  wash  in  them  and 
be  clean  ?  So  he  turned  and  went  away  in  a  rage.  And 
his  servant  came  near,  and  spake  laito  him,  a7id  saidy 
My  father,  if  the  prophet  had  bid  thee  do  some  great 
thing,  wonkiest  thou  not  have  done  it  ?  How  much  rather 
then,  when  he  saith  unto  thee,  wash  and  be  clean  ?  Then 
went  he  down  aiid  dipped  himself  seven  times  in  Jor- 
dan, according  to  the  saying  of  the  man  of  God ;  and 
his  flesh  came  again  like  tlie  flesh  of  a  little  child, 
and  he  was  clean. 

X  HIS  ehapter,  with  a  beautiful  simplicity  peculiar  to 
the  sacred  \\'ritino;s,  relates  the  story  of  Naaman  the  leper. 
As  this  man  was  a  favourite  of  the  king  of  Syria,  and 
possessed  high  rank  and  authority  under  him ;  his  master 
hearing  that  there  was  a  prophet  in  the  land  of  Israel, 
by  ^\•hom  leprosies  were  cured,  sent  Naaman  thither  to 
be  healed.  Accordingly  this  great  General  ha\'ing  pre- 
sented himself  in  his  chariot  at  the  door  of  Elisha's 
liouse,  the  prophet  sent  out  a  messenger  to  him,  dii-ect- 


Ser.  XII.]  N  A  AM  AN  THE  LEPER.  Ul 

ing  him  to  wash  seven  times  in  Jordan,  and  assuring  hira 
in  this  way  of  irftm^diate  recovery !  But  this  mode  of 
proceeding  not  suitmg  the  pride  and  preconcei\'ed  no- 
tions of  Naaman,  he  spurne  d  the  message,  and  rode 
away  from  the  house  in  great  indignation.  But  the  ser- 
vants, \v'ho  attended  him,  more  ^^ise  in  this  instance  than 
their  master,  respectfully  expostulated  Avith  him  on  the 
impropriety  of  rejecting  so  simple  and  easy  a  prescrip- 
tion. Naaman,  not  possessing  that  foolish  haughtiness, 
which  disdains  tlie  wholesome  advice  of  an  inferior,  was 
-persuaded  to  follow  the  prophet^s  directions.  The  con- 
sequence Avas  his  perfect  recovery. 

The  proud  spirit  and  reasonings,  which  at  first  led 
-this  man  to  reject  the  message  o-f  Elisha,  influence  ma- 
ny at  this  day  to  oppose  religion,  especially  the  doctrines 
■and  prescriptions  of  the  gospel ;  while  his  ultimate  obe- 
-dience  to  the  prophet  and  its  salutary  eftect  fitly  repre- 
sent the  wisdom  and  happiness  of  those,  who,  in  spite  of 
their  conceited,  but  perverted  reason,  and  preconceived 
prejudices,  submit  to  the  merciful  directions  of  Cluis- 
tianity. 

If  we  trace  the  spirit  and  r-easonings  of  modern  athe* 
ists  and  infidels,  we  find  them  strikingly  correspondent 
with  those  of  Naaman  in  die  text.  What  leads  many 
proud  philosophists  to  reject  tlie  common  belief  of  a 
-God,  or  of  a  great  first  cause,  possessing  infinite  wis- 
dom and  goodness  '?  It  is  this  ;  tliey  first  determine  in 
their  own  minds  what  plan  of  conduct  ought  to  be  pursu- 
ed by  a  Being  perfecdy  wise,  just,  and  benevolent.  By 
this  standard  of  ideal  perfection  they  try  the  works  of  na- 
ture and  providence ;  and  finding  many  appearances  in 
both  falling  short  of  this  standard,  and  directly  condemn- 
ed by  it,  they  conclude  that  perfect  intelligence  and 
goodness  have  either  no  existence,  or  no  concern  in  the 
formation  and  government  gf  the  world,  or  that  their  in- 


142  NAAMAN  THE  LEPER.  [Ser.  XII. 

finer ce  is  defeated  by  some  malignant  principle  of  equal 
or  superior  force.  Thus  all  religion  is  laid  prostrate  by 
human  \anity,  assuming  the  right  of  dictating  to  infinite 
^visdom.  But  how  preposterous  is  this !  We  all  con- 
demn the  proud  folly  of  the  Syrian  Captain  in  determin- 
ing beforehand  the  manner,  A^hich  the  prophet  of 
Jehovah  ought  to  observe  in  curing  his  leprosy,  and 
in  refusing  the  important  blessing  oflered  him,  because 
the  mode  of  con^^eying it  did  not  ans\\er  to  his  previous 
exjiectutions.  And  is  not  that  pride  still  more  foolish 
and  presimnptuous,  which  settles  beforehand  a  system  of 
operation  for  the  Deity ;  \v  hich  decides  by  abstract  hu- 
man reasoning  how  he  ought  to  have  made  and  to  govern 
the  universe  ;  and  Avhich  concludes  that  there  is  no  God, 
or  no  perfect  moral  go\  ernor,  and  so  no  sure  foundation 
for  piety  and  virtue,  merel}'  because  a  few  detached  ap- 
pearances do  not  accord  \\  ith  its  own  blind  but  boasted 
theory  ?  Shall  the  insect,  w  hose  sphere  of  vision  is  bound- 
ed by  a  circumference  of  one  or  two  inches,  lay  out  the 
plan  of  a  magnificent  palace,  or  censure  the  skill  of  the 
ai'chitect  on  account  of  some  apparent  speck  or  rough- 
ness in  that  part  of  the  building,  w  hich  he  is  able  to  sur- 
vey ?  Yet  the  greatest  human  or  even  created  mind  is 
far  less  than  such  an  insect,  when  compared  with  the 
infinite  Being,  or  A\'ith  the  immensity  of  his  works  and 
designs.  In  short,  \^-e  are  wholly  incompetent  to  de- 
cide, by  mere  speculation,  A\hat  kind  of  a  world,  or 
^\hat  scheme  of  administration  was  most  worthy  of 
boundless  intelligence  and  goodness. 

We  may  indeed  reasonably  conclude,  that  the  pro- 
duction of  the  greatest  sum  of  virtue  and  happiness 
must  have  been  intended  by  an  all  perfect  Creator  ;  but 
what  means  would  be  necessary  and  best  fitted  to  this- 
end,  can  be  known  to  us  only  by  fact  and  experience. 
Now  experience  and  analogy  teach  us  that  many  things, 


Ser.  XII.]  N  A  AM  AN  THE  LEPER.  143 

which  at  first  \dew  seem  most  repugnant  to  the  order, 
beauty,  and  happiness  of  the  S3'stem,  are  on  the  vviiole 
conducive  to  each ;  that  the  most  disagreeable  things  in 
nature  and  providence  are  the  result  of  good  genercil 
laws,  and  in  many  instances  produce  the  most  salutary 
effects  ;  that  so  far  as  our  observation  reaches,  the  con- 
stitution of  the  world  aifords  numberless  proofs  of  wise 
and  benevolent  design,  of  a  holy  and  righteous  admin- 
istration, of  a  prevailing  tendency  to  happiness ;  and 
finally  that  the  great  mixture  of  evil  in  this  part  of  the 
creation  contributes  in  various  respects  to  the  increase 
of  virtue  and  felicity,  and  is  probably  a  branch  of  one 
comprehensive  scheme,  \\  hich  embraces  the  uni\^erse, 
and  eternity,  and  which  will  eventually  produce  tlie 
greatest  quantit}-  of  good.  Influenced  by  these  sober 
sentiments,  let  us  submit  our  vain  imaginations  to  the 
test  of  experience.  Like  the  Syrian  leper,  let  us  be  per- 
suaded honestly  to  tr}^  \vhether  the  Avaters  of  Jordan  be 
not  better  than  the  fancied  streams  of  Abana  and  Phar- 
par.  Let  us  faithfully  use  the  means  of  safety  and  happi- 
ness, which  are  actually  afforded,  before  we  ventu.re  to 
despise  them,  or  to  imagine  that  other  and  better  re- 
sources ought  to  have  been  provided. 

But  this  brings  us  to  the  main  object  of  this  discourse, 
viz.  to  apply  the  text  to  the  subject  of  re'uealed  religion. 
Many  persons  profess  themselves  friends  to  the  religion 
of  nature,  while  they  spurn  the  gospel  of  Christ  ; 
they  erect  the  former  on  the  ruins  of  the  latter,  just  as 
Naaman  magnified  the  ri\'ers  of  his  own  country  at  the 
expense  of  those  in  the  land  of  Israel.  But  their  rea- 
sonings against  revelation  are  at  best  uncertain,  abstract 
speculations,  which  m  ill  not  stand  the  trial  of  fact  and 
experience.  When  these  objectors  extol  the  sufficien- 
cy of  natural  light,  m'c  can  appeal  to  tlie  actual  state  of 
the  whole  heathen  world,  both  ancient  and  modern,  for  a 


144  NAAMAN  THE  LEPER.  [Ser.  XII. 

confutation  of  their  pretence.  Besides,  if  the  law  of  na- 
ture were  ever  so  plain  and  perfect,  what  would  this  avail 
to  imperfect,  depraved,  and  obnoxious  offenders  ?  Can 
a  perfect  law  pardon  and  justify  its  guilt}^  violators  ? 
Can  it  cure  the  moral  leprosy  they  have  contracted  ? 
Can  it  ease  their  wounded  consciences,  and  restore  them 
to  the  assured  fevour  of  their  offended  Creator  ?  Does  it 
become  persons  in  this  situation  to  despise  that  divine 
Prophet,  Avho  offers  to  heal  them  ?  Does  it  become  them  to 
reject  that  hea\'enly  instruction  and  assistance,  forgiveness 
and  consolation,  m  hich  he  only  can  bestow  ?  Will  such 
objectors  say  that  they  are  not  satisfied  \^■ith  the  credentials 
of  this  divine  Messenger  ?  That  the  miracles  alleged 
in  proof  of  his  mission  are  romantic  and  incredible  tales  ? 
But  if  sinful  men  needed  an  extraordinary  instructor,  it 
was  equally  necessary  that  the  mission  and  doctrine  of 
such  a  teacher  should  be  confirmed  by  extraordinary  or 
miraculous  proof.  His  miracles  therefore  were  equally 
important  and  credible  with  his  merciful  instructions. 

Will  they  say  that  some  of  his  doctrines  are  absurd, 
unintelligible,  or  useless  ?  But  perhaps  the  doctrines  in 
question  appear  absurd  merely  because  they  contradict 
and  condemn  the  pride,  the  prejudices,  or  the  corrupt 
dispositions  of  the  objectors.  Those,  who  love  darkness 
rather  than  light,  who  set  up  their  own  wisdom  or  lusts 
as  their  supreme  rule,  will  naturally  dislike  those  truths, 
which  cross  and  mortify  themselves.  What  is  there  re- 
ally absurd  in  the  gospi^  doctrine  of  redemption  ?  W^as 
it  unworthy  of  inilnitc  benevolence  to  send  a  person  of 
superior,  of  divine  dignit_v,  to  enlighten  an  ignorant,  to 
atone  for  a  guilt}-,  to  sanctify  and  console  a  dejiraved 
and  miscrab!,e  world  ,  especially  Avhen  all  other  expedi- 
ents for  its  recovery  had  been  long  tried  in  vain  ?  Does 
it  become  sinners,  redeemed  at  such  a  price,  to  find  fault 
with  that  mysterious  love,  to  ^yhich  they  are  so  much 


Ser.  XII.]  NAAMAN  the  leper.  145 

indebted,  or  to  refuse  its  offered  blessings,  merely  be- 
cause they  cannot  comprehend  all  the  reasons  on  which 
it  proceeds,  or  tlie  precise  manner,  in  which  its  infinite 
benefits  arc  conveyed  ?  Are  not  the  reasons  and  the 
mode  of  divine  operation  in  the  works  of  nature  and 
pro\'idcnce  equally  unsearchable  ?  Do  not  many  of  the 
common  proceedings  of  the  Most  High  equally  ti-ans- 
cend  our  conceptions,  and  confound  all  our  previous  cal- 
culations ■?  Does  not  analogy  therefore  lead  us  to  expect 
similar  and  even  greater  wonders  in  the  extraordinary 
dispensations  of  his  grace  ?  Besides,  though  we  cannot 
fully  comprehend  the  divine  conduct,  or  those  doctrines, 
which  relate  to  it ;  yet  we  may  know  enough  of  these 
truths  to  regulate  our  own  practice.  By  diligent  and 
pmyerful  contemplation  we  may  obtain  that  knowledge 
of  God  and  the  Mediator,  and  of  the  revealed  method 
of  salvation,  which  may  effectually  guide  and  animate 
us  to  the  correspondent  duties  of  pious  gratitude  and 
reverence,  faith  and  confidence,  imitation  and  obedience. 
If  we  cannot  understand  all  the  reasons  of  God's  ap- 
pointments, yet  the  appointments  themselves  are  suffi- 
ciently obvious,  and  are  recommended  to  our  observ- 
ance by  the  strongest  motives.  The  prescriptions  of 
the  gospel  are  very  plain  and  decided ;  "  wash  and  be 
clean;"  "  believe  and  be  saved;"  "  repent  and  be  for- 
given ;"  "  ask  and  receive."  Was  it  foolish  and  base 
in  the  Syrian  leper  to  spurn  the  plain  direction  of  Elisha, 
because  he  could  not  see  why  or  how  the  waters  of  Jor- 
dan could  be  more  medicinal  than  any  other  ?  And  is  it 
not  far  more  absurd  and  criminal  for  sinners,  on  a  like 
pretence,  to  reject  the  equally  evident  precepts  of  Chris- 
tianity ?  Suppose  we  could  see  no  fitness  in  the  estab- 
lished connexion  between  repentance  and  forj^iveness, 
between  faith  and  salvation  ;  yet  to  argue  merely  from 
^ur  ignorance  that  this  establishment  is  ai'bitrary,  absurd, 


I4G  NAAMAN  THE  LEPER.  [Ser.  XIL 

or  incredible,  would  be  infinite  folly  and  pi-esumption. 
For  though  it  is  very  fit  and  pious  to  inquire  Avith  mod- 
est reverence  into  the  ends  and  reasons  of  God's  dis- 
pensations and  requirements  ;  }"et  to  set  up  our  igno- 
rance against  his  manifest  authority  and  wisdom,  is  the 
extreme  of  madness  and  impiety.  Besides,  we  can  see 
cin  c\'ident  fitness  in  the  \'ery  nature  of  the  gospel  pre- 
scriptions. W'hat  can  be  more  reasonable  than  that  a 
rebel  should  repent,  that  is,  cease  to  be  a  rebel,  before 
he  is  pardoned  ?  And  since  the  repentance  of  the  indi- 
vidual, however  sincere,  cannot  repair  the  public  injury 
and  dishonour  occasioned  by  disobedience ;  how  suita- 
ble is  it  that  the  humble  penitent  should  believe^  that  is, 
heartily  acquiesce  and  confide  in  that  Mediator  and 
atonement,  which  his  offended  but  merciful  Sovereign 
has  appointed  ?  How  suitable,  how  necessary  is  that  vi- 
tal gospel  faith,  A\hich  opens  the  heart  to  the  influence 
of  those  truths,  which  alone  can  enlighten  and  comfort, 
purify  and  exalt  it  ?  How  reasonable  is  it  that  the  repent- 
ing and  paidoned  believer  should  henceforth  live,  not  to 
himself,  but  to  the  honour  of  his  forgiving  God  and 
compassionate  Redeemer  !  It  appears  then  that  the  pe- 
culiar precepts  of  our  religion  are  in  their  own  nature 
morally  fit  and  binding, as  well,  as  enjoined  by  infinite 
authority.  They  are  not  oply  plainly  prescribed  by 
God,  but  directly  and  essentially  conduciseto  the  moral 
recoA'ery  and  happiness  of  man. 

The  same  obserA-ations  v\  ill  in  a  great  measure  apply 
to  the  posithe  institiil'mns  of  Christianity.  These  are 
manifestly  necessary  both  to  express  and  promote  those 
in'.crnal  and  moral  exercises,  which  we  have  just  recom- 
mended. The}'  are  necessary  to  keep  alive  in  our 
memories  and  hearts  the  great  facts  and  doctrines  of  our 
religion,  and  thus  to  prcser\c  their  genuine  practical 
influence  on  our  temper  and  conduct.     In  this  ^iew  the 


Ser.  XII.]  NAAMAN  THE  LEPER.  I47 

appointment  of  a  Christian  Sabbath  and  priesthood,  of  a 
visible  church  and  public  worship,  of  gospel  baptism  and 
the  Lord's  supper,  is  evidently  founded  in  wisdom  and 
goodness.  Each  of  these  ordinances  is  admirably  fitted 
to  secure  and  advance  the  great  interests  of  piety  and  vir- 
tue. If  the  observance  of  outward  ceremonies,  as 
memorials  or  seals  of  great  transactions  and  events,  be 
recommended  by  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  all  na- 
tions and  ages ;  if  it  be  proper  and  beneficial  to  our  own 
country  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  her  independ- 
ence ;  it  must  surely  be  more  wise  and  useful  for  Chris- 
tians to  commemorate  their  dying  and  risen  Redeemer 
by  observing  that  day  and  those  ordinances,  which  are 
sacred  to  his  memory,  and  which  remind  them  of  their 
gi-eat  duties  to  him  and  one  another.  Those  persons 
therefore  discover,  not  a  truly  philosophic  and  enlarged, 
but  a  vain  and  ignorant  mind,  who  despise  these  Chris- 
tian institutions ;  who  proudly  demand,  what  sense  or 
advantage  is  there  in  separating  a  seventh  portion  of  our 
time  from  worldly  to  sacred  uses  ;  in  employing  so  ma- 
ny hours  in  attending  public  worship  and  instruction ; 
in  eating  bread  and  drinking  wine  at  the  sacramental  ta- 
ble ;  or  in  pouring  water  on  the  face  of  an  unconscious 
infant  ?  It  would  be  a  sufficient  answer  to  these  questions 
to  say,  that  the  divine  Founder  of  our  religion  has  seen 
fit  to  establish  these  ceremonies,  as  tokens  of  our  faith 
and  obedience,  and  the  ordinary  channels  and  seals  of 
his  spiritual  blessing.  And  shall  we  refuse  such  easy 
methods  of  expressing  our  regard  to  him,  and  of  draw- 
ing down  his  saving  benediction  on  us  ?  If,  as  the  ser- 
vants of  Naaman  reason  with  their  master,  if  our  divine 
Lord  had  bidden  us  do  some  great  thing,  ought  we  not 
gladly  to  have  done  it  ?  If  he  had  enjoined  upon  us 
services  as  burdensome  and  costly  as  those  of  the  ancient 
A  a 


148  NAAMAN  THE  LEPP:R.  [Ser.  XIL 

Jews ;  ought  we  not  cheeifully  to  perform  them,  as  a 
grateful  return  for  his  costly  love,  and  as  the  mean  of 
enjoying  his  infinite  benefits  ?  How  much  more  then, 
when  he  only  bids  us  observe  a  few  simple  and  expres- 
si\'c  rites,  which  directly  tend  to  our  edification  and  com- 
foit^as  well   as  to  his  honour  ? 

iliis  train  of  tliought  may  be  equally  applied  to  all  the 
means  of  religion.  In  the  case  before  us  as  well,  as  in 
other  particulars,  there  is  a  beautiful  analogy  between  the 
world  of  nature  and  that  of  grace.  In  both  God  accom- 
plishes his  ends  by  the  instrumentality  of  means.  In 
both  his  blessing  is  connected  with  our  prudent  and 
dutiful  exertions.  As  his  providence  supports  our  nat- 
ural lives  only  in  the  use  of  our  own  activity  ;  so  his 
rrace  ordinarily  quickens  and  saves  our  souls  only  in 
the  way  of  our  serious  and  prayerful  diligence.  Though 
God  could  have  cured  the  Syrian  leper  Avithout  his 
washing  in  Jordan,  and  though  he  could,  if  he  saw  fit, 
purify  us  from  sin  without  the  application  of  means, 
vet  the  cure  of  the  former  was  wisely  connected  with 
his  obedience  to  a  certain  prescription  ;  and  our  spir- 
itual renovation  and  final  salvation  are  with  equal  wis- 
dom connected  with  an  earnest  attendance  on  the  means 
of  gi-ace.  By  this  process  God  proclaims  his  sove- 
reignty a!id  our  duty.  While  he  teaches  us  to  depend 
on  him  for  all  spiritual  blessings,  he  obliges  us  to  seek 
them  in  his  own  way,  and  in  the  best  use  of  those  fac- 
ilities and  privileges,  w^hich  he  has  given  us.  We  grant 
that  the  prayers  and  endeavours  of  unrenewed  sinners, 
however  solemn  and  zealous,  are  not  truly  holy ;  nor 
can  they  of  themselves  produce  a  sanctified  heart,  or 
justly  claim  this  blessing  from  God.  Yet  that  merciful 
Being,  W'ho  hears  the  cry  of  the  ravens,  and  who  honour- 
ed his  own  appointment  in  the  case  of  this  leper,  by  mak- 
ing it  effectual  tu  his  recovery,   may  equally  bless  his 


SiEK.  XII.3  NAAMAN  THE  LEPER.  149 

own  means  to  the  saving  good  of  those,  \\ho  seriously 
4ittend  them.  Let  none  then  be  induced  to  neglect  or 
despise  these  means  under  a  false  idea  of  exahiiig  or 
trusting  in  mere  sovereign  gTace.  We  do  not  really 
honour,  but  tempt  and  insult  the  Almighty,  when  we  ex- 
pect his  blessing  in  any  other  wziv,  than  he  himself  has 
v.arranted.  If  the  diseased  Syrian  acted  \\ isely  in  try- 
ing  the  method  of  cure  proposed  by  a  prophet  of  Isra- 
el, with  whom  he  had  no  previous  acquaintance ;  how- 
much  greater  encouragement  have  ^\e  to  try  the  pre- 
scriptions of  the  gospel ;  we,  \a  ho  know  that  these  direc- 
tions come  from  God,  that  they  have  proved  effectual 
to  all  who  have  sincerely  follo\\ed  them,  that  the  ob- 
servance of  them  will  afford  present  as  \A-ell,  as  endless 
felicitv,  and  that  inattention  or  disobedience  to  them 
will  render  our  disease  incurable,  and  consign  us  to  ew 
crlasting  perdition  !  What  ^vords  or  imagination  can  de- 
scribe the  wisdom  of  embracing,  and  the  madness  of  re- 
jecting these  merciful  proposals  !  May  Almighty  grace 
deeply  impress  these  ideas  on  our  hearts  ! 

I  cannot  willingly  close  without  distinctly  remark- 
ing the  happy  and  glorious  effects,  which  in  the  instance 
before  us  grew  out  of  a  few  small  and  unpromising  cir- 
cumstances. A  little  Hebrew  maid  in  Naaman's  fami- 
1\'  informs  him  of  a  prophet  in  the  hostile  land  of  Israel, 
who  could  cure  his  inveterate  disease.  He  traA^els  into 
this  country  with  a  retinue  of  ser\-ants.  These  servants, 
by  intei-posing  at  a  critical  moment  as  humble  counsel- 
lors, were  the  occasion  of  his  cure.  This  miraculous 
cure  of  his  body  reclaimed  his  mind  from  its  former 
idolatry  to  the  belief  and  worship  of  Jehovah,  the  God 
of  Israel.  This  conversion  of  a  high  officer  in  Syria, 
and  its  visible  fruits  had  probably  some  happy  influence 
on  his  idolatrous  countrymen,  particularly  on  his  own 
family,  especially  on  those  fliithful  attendants,  to  whom 


150  NAAMAN  THE  LEPfiR.  [StJi.  XII. 

he  had  been  so  highly  indebted.  Thus  a  number  of 
little  incidents,  like  a  few  scattered  seeds,  may  spring 
up  into  a  copious  harvest,  and  the  conversion  of  one 
sinner  may  spread  out  into  the  reformation  of  a  multi- 
tude. Thus  too  the  disease  of  the  body,  or  some  out- 
ward calamity,  may  and  often  does,  like  Naaman's  lep- 
rosy, prove  the  first  step  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

In  these  and  many  other  particulars,  how  wonderful, 
how  glorious  are  the 'ways  of  Providence!  What  im- 
portant lessons  do  they  teach  us  !  They  instruct  us  not 
to  despise,  but  to  regard  with  a  degree  of  reverence  the 
meanest  persons  and  the  slightest  events ;  since  these 
may  be  the  destined  instruments  of  the  greatest,  yea  of 
infinite  good.  They  teach  us  to  support  \a  ith  resignation, 
fortitude,  and  even  thankfulness  the  most  perplexing 
and  afflictive  circumstances  ;  since  these  may  eventual- 
ly prove  or  occasion  the  most  valuable  and  permanent 
benefits. 

They  instruct  persons  of  superior  station  or  talents  to 
receive  with  calmness,  condescension,  and  gratitude 
good  counsel  or  information,  even  when  offered  by  ser- 
vants or  inferiors  ;  since  they  may,  at  least  in  some  in- 
stances, possess  more  reason  and  virtue  than  themselves. 

Finally,  when  we  behold  the  Supreme  Ruler  accom- 
plishing the  most  important  ends  by  means  apparently  the 
most  trivial  and  inadequate,  yea,  educing  future  and  eter- 
nal good  from  present  evil ;  how  fervently  should  we 
echo,  the  pious  exclamation  of  the  apostle — "O  the 
depths  of  the  riches  both  of  the  Axisdom  and  kno^v  ledge 
of  God!  How  unsearchable  are  his  judgments,  and  his 
ways  past  finding  out !  For  who  hath  known  the  mind  of 
the  Lord,  or  who  hath  been  his  counsellor  ?  For  of  him, 
and  through  him,  and  to  him  are  all  things  ;  to  him  be 
glory  forever.     Amen." 


©ermon  xiii. 


On  the  Love  of  the  World. 


1  John  ii.  15. 


Lonie  not  the  tvorld^  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the 
•morld.  If  any  man  loije  the  ijoorld,  the  loiie  of  the  Far- 
ther is  not  in  him. 


W 


HAT  a  dreadful  sound  do  these  words  conve}'  to 
the  ears  of  those,  whose  affections  and  pursuits  are 
wrapped  up  in  sensible  objects  !  By  the  world  and  the 
things  of  it  we  are  to  understand  this  earth,  or  the  pres- 
ent scene  of  human  existence,  with  the  various  materials 
for  activity  and  enjoyment,  which  are  furnished  by  it, 
and  terminate  in  it.  By  loving  the  world  and  its  con- 
tents cannot  be  meant  every  l^ind  and  degree  of  earthly 
attachment :  for  the  Author  of  nature  has  planted  in  the 
human  constitution  such  a  variety  of  affections  and 
appetites,  and  surrounded  us  with  so  many  objects, 
harmoniously  adapted  to  these  affections ;  that  some 
degree  of  love  to  these  objects  is  at  once  natural  and 
una\'oidable,  becoming  and  beautiful :  without  it,  we 
could  neither  discharge  the  essential  duties,  nor  enjoy 
the  valuable  comforts  of  the  present  state.  Besides,  the 
world,  considered  as  the  production  of  Deity,  and  as 
destined  by  Him  for  the  accommodation  and  entertain- 
ment of  man,  justly  claims  our  grateful  and  admiring 
affection  ;  which  affection,  far  from  excluding  or  abating, 
directly  cherishes  and  improves  our  pious  sentiments 
and  acknowledgments  to  the  glorious  and  beneficent 
Creator. 


152  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  XIII. 

When  therefore  Christianity  requires  us  to  renounce 
the  world,  the  idea  is,  that  the  \\'orid,  considered  as 
perverted  by  human  apostasy,  as  nourishing  and  inflam- 
ing our  corrupt  affections,  or,  in  other  words,  an  earthly 
and  sensual  life,  conducted  upon  the  maxims  of  world- 
ly and  depraved  men,  is  forbidden,  as  incompatible 
'W'ith  that  spiritual  and  heavenly  life,  to  which  we  are 
called  by  the  gospel.  Agreeably,  the  verse  following 
the  text  explains  the  prohibited  objects  of  attachment  by 
voluptuousness,  avarice,  and  ^^orldly  ambition.  In 
short,  our  love  to  any  earthly  good  falls  within  the 
description  of  the  apostle,  when  it  habitually  exceeds  itis 
proper  limits,  or  usurps  the  empire  of  our  heaits.         f 

It  therefore  becomes  a  very  intei-^sting  inquir}-,  fF/ieJi 
our  love  to  the  world  may  be  styled  inordinate,  or  be 
said  to  form  our  ruling  affection.  After  wt  have  satis- 
fied this  inquiry,  we  will  endeavour  to  show,  that  such  a 
worldly  temper  is  incompatible  with  the  character  and 
hopes  of  a  real  Christian. 

I.  When  may  our  earthly  affections  be  called  im- 
moderate, so  as  to  reach  the  sense  of  the  text?  We 
ansvv'er, 

First.  When  the  world,  or  any  object  in  it  engrosses 
our  tJwughts  in  a  degree,  vvhich  excludes  serious  re- 
flection or  pious  meditation  ;  our  lo^^c  to  it  becomes  un- 
suitable and  idolatrous.  Certainly  the  infinite  God,  who 
gave  us  the  faculty  of  thought,  is  the  most  worthy  ob- 
ject of  its  exercises.  The  contemplation  of  his  perfec- 
tions, works,  and  revealed  will,  is  the  most  noble,  mo- 
mentous, and  perfecti\'e  employment  of  our  rational  na- 
tures. Serious  and  earnest  consideitition  of  spiritual 
and  divine  subjects  is  likcAvise  the  first  step  to  true 
conversion  from  sin  to  holiness  as  "well,  as  a  principal 
mean  and  evidence  of  continued,  progressive  piety  in 
the  human  heart.     When  a  person  therefore  has  hi'-. 


Ser.XIII.]  of  the  world.  *  153 

thoughts  so  immersed  in  worldly  business  or  pleasures, 
that  religious  ideas  find  a  very  rare  and  unwelcome  ad- 
mittance ;  ^\■hen  he  industriously  shifts  off*  these  ideas  to 
some  more  convenient  season  ;  when  he  contents  him- 
self with  giving  a  few  spiritless  and  broken  thoughts  to 
God  and  leligion  upon  one  day  in  seven,  or  at  the 
seasons  of  his  morning  and  evening  devotion,  as  a  kind 
of  compensation  for  sacrificing  all  the  rest  of  his  time  to 
some  earthly  idol ;  in  short,  when  the  world  is  his  con- 
stant associate,  the  last  companion  of  his  thoughts,  when 
he  begins  to  sleep,  and  the  first,  when  he  awakes;  these 
are  sure  symptoms  of  predominant  worldly  affections': 
for  as  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he.  If  a  man 
then  thinks  of  the  world  with  the  greatest  frequency, 
freedom,  and  dehght,  he  is  certainly  a  worldly  character. 

Secondly.  When  the  things  of  the  world  engross  our 
whole  conversation,  it  is  an  evidence  of  the  same  truth. 
Man  is  so  formed,  that  the  ruling  dispositions  of  his 
heart  will  give  their  own  complexion  to  his  social  inter- 
course. If  then  we  have  no  taste  for  any  society  or 
conversation,  but  that  Avhich  savours  of  the  world  ;  if  we 
scarce  ever  mention  the  name  of  God  or  the  Redeemer, 
or  introduce  any  religious  subject  in  our  daily  converse, 
except  it  be  in  a  light,  or  cavilling,  in  a  profane,  or  at 
best  disputatious  manner ;  we  give,  at  least,  probal:)le 
evidence,  that  we  love  the  world  more  than  God. 

Thirdly.  Our  attachment  to  the  world  is  immoderate, 
if  we  are  unwilling  to  part  with  it  upon  proper  occasions, 
or  to  give  it  up  to  the  divine  disposal.  If  we  are  back- 
ward to  improve  that  portion  of  it  with  which  God  en- 
trusts us,  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  his  pleasure  and 
honour ;  if  we  take  more  delight  in  hoarding  large  and 
useless  treasures,  or  in  sacrificing  them  to  unbounded 
vanity  and  luxurj^,  than  in  supplying  and  comforting  the 
children  of  want  and  distress,  or  in  serving  God,   the 


154  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  XIII. 

church,  and  commonwealth,  by  acts  of  generous  and 
pious  munificence  ;  if  it  is  a  burden  to  us  to  support 
the  gospel,  and  ministers  of  Christ,  or  the  necessary  civ- 
il government  of  our  country;  in  short,  if  we  do  not 
leadiiy  seize,  and  even  rejoice  in  every  opportunity  of 
doing  good  with  our  substaiice ;  we  make  it  manifest 
tiiat  we  love  a  little  w^orldly  interest  above  God,  Christ, 
our  neighbour,  our  country,  yea  our  own  everlasting 
happiness.  The  same  observation  will  apply  to  those, 
who  cannot  willingly  resign  their  estates,  their  honours, 
their  friends,  their  earthly  all,  when  divine  Providence 
calls  for  such  a  sacrifice;  who  cannot  comparatively 
hate  and  despise  even  the  most  excellent  and  beloved 
creatures,  when  set  in  competition  with  the  will  and  the 
friendship  of  the  Creator ;  but  whose  murmuring  or  de- 
sponding sentiments,  when  stripped  of  their  earthly  treas- 
ures or  comforts,  evidently  speak  this  language ;  "  Yc 
have  taken  away  my  gods,  and  \\hat  have  I  more?" 

Fourthly.  Discontentment  with  our  portion  of  the 
world  proclaims  a  criminal  love  to  it.  If  we  secretly  repine, 
because  we  are  not  blessed  with  every  earthly  conveni- 
ence, elegance,  and  delight,  which  some  others  possess ; 
if  we  are  not  entirely  willing,  that  God  should  govern  his 
own  world,  and  distribute  his  own  favours,  as  he  pleas- 
es ;  it  proves  that  we  pay  that  homage  to  the  world, 
v^hich  belongs  only  to  its  infinite  Maker  and  Sovereign. 
If  we  loved  God  above  all,  we  should  be  content  and 
satisfied  with  Kim,  with  his  will,  his  fulness,  and  his 
love.  We  should  feel  rich  and  happy  in  such  a  Friend 
and  Portion,  however  poor  and  low  in  worldly  respects. 
If  then  the  mere  want  of  worldly  affluence  dirows  us  into 
an  uiidutiful  or  peevish  frame  towards  the  Most  High,  or 
produces  envious  feelings  towards  our  more  prosperous 
neighbour ;  we  certainly  set  the  world  in  God's  place. 


Ser.  XIII.]  OF  THE  WORLD.  155 

The  same  remark  may  be  made  upon  those,  who  al- 
low themselves  in  a  distrustful  anxiety  respecting  their 
temporal  concerns ;  whose  imagination  is  continually 
foreboding  some  distressing  or  fatal  accident  to  their 
possessions  and  enjoyments,  to  their  cliildren,  or  other 
agreeable  connexions.  Such  anxiety  about  any  world- 
ly interest  or  comfort,  as  unfits  us  for  duty,  for  society, 
for  a  thankful  and  cheerful  use  of  the  blessings  of  Prov- 
idence, betrays  an  unwarrantable  affection  to  the  world; 
for,  if  we  loved  it  within  proper  limits,  we  should  resign 
the  comforts  of  it  to  the  disposal  of  our  heavenly  Father. 
While  we  exercised  a  provident  and  industrious  care  re- 
specting our  temporal  conceals,  this  prudent  attention 
would  be  qualified  by  a  filial  acquiescence  and  confi- 
dence in  tlie  governing  wisdom  and  good  pleasure  of 
God.  V/e  discover  a  criminal  attachment  to  worldly 
good,  when  we  pursue  it  with  greater  zeal,  and  enjoy  it 
with  higher  relish  and  transport,  than  we  do  the  service 
and  favour  of  God,  or  the  sublime  pleasures  and  hopes 
of  religion.  We  always  manifest  the  greatest  eagerness 
for,  and  delight  in  those  objects,  which  stand  highest  in 
our  affection.  The  zeal  and  pleasure,  with  which  we 
serve  our  friends,  or  seek  and  enjoy  their  society,  are 
proportioned  to  the  place,  which  they  hold  in  our  hearts. 
If  then  we  feel  greater  ardour  and  delight  in  religious 
services  and  entertainments,  than  in  any  other,  it  is  a 
proof  that  the  objects  of  religion  are  supreme  in  our  af- 
fections. But  if  we  have  little  or  no  relish  for  devotion- 
al exercises  ;  if  the  private  and  public  worship  of  God 
be  to  us  a  barren,  insipid,  and  burdensome  ceremony  ;  if, 
while  our  bodies  are  engaged  in  it,  our  thoughts  and  de- 
sires are  roving  to  the  ends  of  the  earth ;  we  prove  our- 
selves utter  strangers  to  the  love  of  God.  If  we  can 
readily,  and  excessively  mourn  any  temporal  loss  or 
s  b 


156  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  Xlir 

calamity,  but  feci  no  emotions  of  grief  under  the  con- 
sciousness of  spiritual  evils,  under  the  privation  of  the 
sensible  presence  and  fellowship  of  our  Maker  ;  we 
exhibit  clear  proof,  that  we  value  the  world  far  more  than 
the  fa^'Our  of  God. 

■  Sixthly.  If  we  pride  ourselves  in  earthly  distinctions, 
we  rhanifest  the  supremacy  of  worldly  affection.  If  wc 
expect  great  deference,  and  resent  the  least  contradiction 
from  others,  merely  because  we  are  raised  above  them 
in  earthly  riches  and  honour ;  it  is  plain  we  overrate 
these  trifling,  adventitious  things,  in  a  very  puerile  and 
sinful  manner.  Our  fondness  for  these  splendid  bau- 
bles clothes  them,  in  our  esteem,  with  a  thousand  imag- 
inary excellencies.  It  gives  them  a  kind  of  magical  charm, 
by  which  their  possessor,  though  destitute,  it  may  be,  of 
every  recommending  accomplishment  both  of  head  and 
heart,  is  at  once  transformed  into  a  sensible,  noble,  mer- 
itorious character,  and  on  this  ground  challenges  impli- 
cit submission,  and  admiration  from  those,  to  whom 
fortune  has  been  less  propitious,  though  possessing  per- 
haps a  thousand  times  more  personal  dignity. 

Sevenihh\  Our  love  to  the  world  is  inordinate,  when 
^►'•eseek  to  acquire  or  retain  it  in  a  wrong  manner,  or  by 
unwarrantable  means.  For  example,  if  we  kwp  over 
tlie  boimd  of  strict  truth  or  justice  in  our  worldly  deal- 
ings; if  we  artfully  evade,  or  openly  violate  the  impar- 
tial rule  of  equity,  prescribed  by  our  Saviour ;  if  we 
take  advantage  of  the  ignorance,  the  credulity,  the  confi- 
dence, or  necessity  of  others ;  if  we  go  into  schemes  of 
speculation  or  enterprise,  which  have  for  their  motive 
an  unbounded  desire  of  wealth,  or  whose  manifest  ob- 
ject .  or  tendency  is  to  procure  a  sudden  accession  of 
wealth  to  ourselves,  to  the  immediate  or  ultimate  injury 
either  of  the  public  at  large,  or  of  many  worthy  families 


Ser.  XIII. 3  OF  THE  WORLD.  157 

and  individuals  ;  if  we  engage  either  in  some  unlawful 
occupation,  or  in  such  a  multiplicity  of  worldly  busi- 
ness, as  shuts  out  the  duties  of  piety  and  charity ;  if 
we  deliberately  plunge  oursehes  into  debts,  which  we 
have  no  reaFonable  prospect  of  discharging,  or  enter  into 
engagements,  the  fulfihiicnt  of  ^^  hich  exceeds  our  abili- 
ty ;  if  we  refuse  compliance  \\  ith  the  demands  of  equit}", 
till  we  ai'e  forced  to  fulfil  them  ;  or  designedly  put  it 
out  of  our  po\\er  to  satisfy  such  claims  ;  or  continue  to  ■ 
improve  what  is  due  to  another,  without  his  knowledge 
or  consent ;  if  we  are  determined  to  pursue  and  enjoy 
the  world  to  the  utmost  limits  of  what  is  lawful,  or  to 
venture  in  this  road  as  far,  as  we  possibly  can  without 
exposing  ourselves  to  certain  damnation  ;  in  short,  if 
it  be  our  rule  of  conduct  to  employ  every  measure  sh(;rt 
of  actual  theft  and  robber}^,  to  obtain  and  keep  worldly 
]:)roperty  ;  in  all  or  either  of  these  cases  we  manifest 
tliat  excessive  love  to  present  good,  which  is  condemned 
in  tlie  text. 

II.  The  way  is  now  prepared  to  show  that  such  a  love 
to  the  Vv'orld  is  inconsistent  with  the  love  of  God,  or  with 
the  Christian  character  and  hope.  What  I  now  mean 
to  prove  is,  that,  when  such  inordinate  worldly  affection 
habitually  possesses  and  rules  the  heart,  the  love  of  God 
is  certainly  wanting. 

For,  First,  the  nature  of  things  and  the  constitution  of 
the  human  soul  forbid  the  supposition  of  its  loving  two 
dift'erent,  much  more  two  contrary  objects,  supremely, 
at  the  same  time.  As  man  has  but  one  heart,  one  self, 
so  he  can  give  this  but  to  one  master,  or  chief  good 
at  once  ;  for  it  is  a  plain  contradiction  to  say,  that  one 
heart  can  have  two  chief  goods  at  the  same  time  ;  for, 
if  one  be  chief,  the  otlier  must  be  subordinate.  If  the 
heart  lays  itself  out  supremely,  or  fully,  upon  one,  it 


158  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  XIII. 

must  proportion  ably  exclude  the  other,  as  having  no 
room  to  receive  it,  no  vigour  to  bestow  upon  it.      U 
"we  could  suppose  the  heart  equally  divided  betv\een 
two  objects  ;  in  this  case,  it  could  not  properly  be  said 
to  lo\e  and  serve  either,  as  its  master ;    for  the  two  ob- 
jects or  affections,  like  two  equal  and  opposite  forces, 
would  destroy  each  other,  in  such  a  sense  at  least,  as  to 
leave  the  soul  fiee  from  the  dominion  of  either.      Our 
Saviour  has  decided  this  case  in  short,   when  he  says, 
"  No  sen'^ant  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 ;    ye  cannot  serve  God 
and  mammon."  The  servant  must  either  hate  one  mas- 
ter in  proportion  as  he  loves  the  other  ;  or  if  we  suppose 
him  to  love  both,   yet  the  more  attentive  and  obedient 
he  is  to  theene,  the  more  negligent  and  regardless  he 
must  necessarily  be   of  the  other  ;    which  demonstrates 
the  utter  impossibility  of  serving  God  and  the  world  at 
the  same  time.     This  will  be  further  illustrated,  if  we 
observe, 

Secondly,  That  the  commands  and  interests  of 
these  two  masters  in  many  instances  clash  with  each 
other  ;  so  that  in  obeying  one,  a  man  must  necessarily 
disobey  and  renounce  the  other. 

It  is  the  first  and  great  command  of  God,  that  we  love 
him  with  all  our  hearts,  and  souls,  and  strength,  and 
have  no  other  god,  or  portion,  but  himself.  But  mam- 
mon requires  and  persuades  its  votaries  to  love  the 
world  with  all  their  hearts,  and  to  cleaAC  to  it,  as  their 
god  and  portion.  God  enjoins  us  to  adhere  closely 
to  his  institutions  in  our  religious  worship ;  but  the 
world  entices  its  admirers,  either  to  neglect  the  worship 
of  Jehovah,  or  to  corrupt  it  \^  ith  human  inventions,  in 
order  to  suit  it  to  worldly  inclinations  and  views.     God 


Ser.  XIII.l  OF  THE  WORLD.  159 

requires  of  us  a  reverential  and  sacred  use  of  his  name, 
attributes,  sabbath,  word,  and  works ;    but  the  love  of 
the  world  often  leads  men  to  an  impious  prostitution  of 
them  for  secular  purposes.     God  commands  us  to  be 
content  with  such  things,  as  we  h.3\'e ;    but  the  love  of 
the  world  speaks  a  language  directly  the  reverse.     The 
command  of  God  forbids  fraud  and  unriirhteousness, 
theft    and  falsehood  ;  it  forbids  us  to  co\et the  proper- 
ty, or  to  envy  the  prosperity  of  our  neighbour  ;  but  the 
world  inspires  its  votaries  with  dispositions,  and  urges 
them  to  actions,  diametrically  opposite  to  these  piccepts. 
God  expressly  requires  us  to  set  our  affections  on  things 
above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth ;  to  seek  first  the  kingdom 
of  God  and  his  righteousness ;  comparatively  to  hate  our 
dearest  w^orldly  connexions  and  interests ;  to  lay  up  our 
treasure  in  heaven,  and  in  heart  to  sell  all  that  we  have, 
that  we  may  purchase  the  pearl  of  great  price ;    to  be 
anxiously  thoughtful  or  careful  for  nothing  here  below, 
but  to  exercise  a  cheerful,   thankful,    suppHcating  de- 
pendence on  our  heavenly  Father,  both  for  our  present 
subsistence  and  our  final  happiness ;    and  in  a  word,  to 
consecrate  our  all  to  the  great  purposes  of  honouring 
God,  doing  good  to  men,  and  promoting  our  own  ever- 
lasting salvation.     But  inordinate  worldly  affection  op- 
poses and  defeats  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter  of  the  di- 
vine  requisitions.     What  tlie  apostle  predicates  of  the 
love  of  money  equally  applies  to  the  attachment  before 
us,   which  indeed  is  nearly  coincident  with  it ;  it  is  the 
root  of  all  evil ;  it  is  an  unfailing  source,  a  comprehen- 
sive summary  of  hunlan  transgression  and  misery  in  all 
their  varied  forms.     It  leads  to,  or  rather  implies  the 
heinous  sin  of  idolatry  ;  for  every  covetous  or  worldly 
man  is  pronounced  by  the  word  of  God  an  idolater. 
What  is  idolatry  but  paying  divine  honours  to  a  crea- 


160  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  XIII. 

ture?  And  what  higher  acts  of  honour  can  we  render  to 
the  Deity,  than  supreme  love  and  confidence  ?  These 
every  covetous,  and,  I  may  add,  every  sensual  and  am- 
bitious man  pays  to  the  M  orld.  What  though  he  does 
not  formally  bow  down  his  body  before  it  ?  He  dees  un- 
speakably more  ;  he  makes  all  the  faculties  and  aiiec- 
tions  of  his  soul  bowdovvn  to  this  idol.  What  ihough 
he  does  not  literally  ofter  sacrifice  or  burn  incense  to 
mammon  ?  What  tliough  he  does  not  present  to  it  so 
much  as  one  bleeding  lamb  ?  He  ofiers  that,  wiuch  is 
far  more  valuable  :  he  sacrifices  the  poor,  by  sutiermg 
them  to  perish  w  ith  want ;  he  offers  his  ou  n  body,  by 
exposing  it  to  every  hardship  and  peril  for  the  sake  of 
gain  ;  yea  he  offers  his  soul  to  this  his  deity,  as  a  whole 
burnt  offering,  by  devoting  it  to  e\  erlasting  flames  for 
the  sake  of  the  world.  Who,  ni}-  brethren,  are  the 
most  stupid  and  detestable  idolaters  ?  Those  who  offer 
slain  beasts  to  the  sun  and  to  fire  ?  Or  those  who  sacri- 
fice their  own  bodies  and  souls  to  dire  and  clay  ? 

It  would  be  endless  to  enumerate  the  black  catalogue 
of  crimes,  which  issue  from  this  love  of  the  ^Aorld  j  the 
extortion  and  oppression,  the  hatred  and  strife,  the  false- 
hood and  unrighteousness,  the  perjury  and  profanation 
of  public  justice,    the  robberies  and  murders,  the  wars 
and  bloodshed.     There  is  no  evil,  whether  private,  do- 
mestic, or  public  ;  no  impiety  against  God,   nor  injury 
against  men,  which  is  not  wrapped  up  in  this  prolific 
passion,  and  which  has  not  been  actually  generated  by 
it.      The  heart,   therefore,   which  is  the  subject  of  a 
reigning  principle  so  extensively  evil,  cannot  be  the  true 
servant  of  a  Being  infinitely  good.     Which  leads   us 
to  add. 

Thirdly,  Since  God,  on  account  of  his  transcendent 
e;^cellence  and  \N'orth,  is  entitled  to  our  supreme  affec- 


Ser.  XIIL]  OF  THE  WORLD.  i^i 

tion  ;  it  follo\\'5  thiit  no  regard  to  him  can  be  proper  and 
acceptable,  which  does  not  far  exceed  our  love  to  any 
other  object.     If  therefore  a  person  possessed  some  de- 
gree of  respect  to  God,  but  at  the  same  time  regarded 
the  \^•orld   with  still  higher  esteem  and  affection  ;    the 
former  would  l)e  justly  accounted,  as  nothing,  as  vanity, 
and  a  lie.     For  nothing  merits  the  name  of  lo\e  and 
homage  to  the  Supreme,  but  that  which  treats  him  as 
supremely   glorious,    and   accordingly   giA'cs   him   the 
supremacy,   yea,   the  entire  possession   of  the   heart. 
Since  therefore  the  reigning  love  of  the  world  denies 
him  this  supreme  affection ;   it  is  justly  stigmatized  as 
irxonsistent  with  proper  and  genuine  love  to  him.     This 
reasoning  will  acquire  additional  strength,  if  we  observe, 
Fourthly,  That  the  same  realizing  and  eilicacious  views 
of  the  glory  of  God,   which  attract  the  least  degree  of 
true  love    to  him,  will  certainly  produce  a  supreme  af- 
fection.       All    unrenewed   or    impenitent   sinners  are 
inimical  to  the  great  Jehovah,  from  a  conviction  of  his 
holiness,  justice,  and  truth,  and  of  their  own  contrariety 
to  this  holiness,  and  consequent  exposedness  to  the  con- 
demning sentence  of  this  justice  and  truth.     This  enmity 
can  be  removed  only  by  the  removal  of  its  cause  :   which 
is  accomplished  when  we  become  radically  changed  and 
renewed  from  sinful  idolatry,  by  the  Spirit  of  the  divine 
Redeemer.     Wlien  this  is  effected,  we  are  reconciled  to 
God  ;   being  now  conformed  in   disposition  to  his  moral 
character.     Of  course  those  av\-ful  attributes  of  Deity, 
which  before  we  viewed  with  dislike  and  terror,  are  no^v 
amiable   and  consoling  to   our  minds.      His  holiness, 
which  is  the  sum  and  crown  of  his  perfections,  is  now 
congenial  and  delightful   to  our  sanctified  taste,   and 
raises  our  highest  esteem  and  complacency.     I  say  our 
highest  esteem  ;  for  the  same  objecti\  e  grounds,  which 


162  ON  THE  LOVE  [Ser.  XI IL 

engage  us  to  love  him  at  all,  -vvill  constrain  our  superlative 
affection ;  for  we  love  ever}'-  object  according  to  its  ap. 
parent  loveliness  and  value.  Now,  since  God  necessarily 
appears  to  the  enlightened  and  renewed  mind,  the  best  and 
most  excellent  Being ;  since  he  is  an  object  perfectly  suit- 
ed to  its  rectified  dispositions,  and  fitted  to  satisfy  its 
largest  desires  and  expectations ;  it  will  of  course  give  him 
its  highest  love.  It  will  seek  and  find  its  proper  ha  ppiness 
in  him  alone.  It  vv'ill  despise  and  renounce  all  created 
sources  of  enjoyment,  when  brought  into  comparison  or 
competition  with  him.  Where  there  is  not  this  tran- 
scendent love  to  the  chief  good  taking  place  of  inordi- 
nate worldly  attachments ;  there  is  not  that  spiritual 
reno^'ation  in  the  views  and  affections  of  the  mind, 
which  is  essential  to  the  Christian  character. 

Our  subject  may  be  applied  for  the  conviction  and 
terror  of  those,  whose  character  answers  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  text.  It  is  to  be  feared  there  are  many 
nominal  Christians,  who  reallv  belong  to  this  class,  who 
yet  esteem  themselves  true  disciples  of  Christ,  and 
heirs  of  his  hcaA-enly  kin^^dom.  They  cloak  their  cov- 
etous desires  and  pursuits  under  tlie  soft-  and  innocent 
names  of  prudence  and  economy,  of  commendable  dili- 
gence, or  necessary  attention  to  the  support  of  their 
families.  Similar  arts  of  self  deception  are  used  by 
those,  who  are  supremely  devoted  to  the  honours  or 
pleasures  of  the  world.  Bat  let  me  beseech  ail  such 
characters  critically  to  examine  dieir  own  habitual  feel- 
ings and  conduct,  by  tho.se  marks  of  a  \vorldly  temper, 
vrhich  have  been  specified  ;  and  if'on  such  Inquiry,  con- 
science shall  pronounce  them  guilty,  let  them  solemnly 
consider,  that  the  word  of  God  excludes  them  from  the 
catalogue  of  Christians,  and  expressly  shuts  them  out  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.     Let  them  remember  too,  that 


Ser.  XIII.]     on  the  love  of  the  world.       iC3 

the  nature  of  things  as  well,  as  the  revealed  constitution 
of  God,  debars  those,  whose  hearts,  whose  chosen  trea- 
sures have  been  wholly  earthly  and  sensual  from  the 
spiritual  and  refined  felicity  of  the  celestial  world.  It  is 
congruous,  it  is  necessary,  that  our  fate  should  coitcs- 
pond  to  our  prevailing  choice  and  character  during  this 
preparatory  state.  If  then  the  world  be  the  main  ob- 
ject of  our  aftection  and  delight,  our  happiness,  such  as 
it  is,  must  necessarily  expire,  and  a  state  of  consequent 
misery  ensue  from  the  instant,  in  which  death  shall  sep- 
arate us  from  this  idol  of  our  hearts*  Then,  if  not  be- 
fore, wc  shall  fully  realize  the  truth  and  emphasis  of  the 
poet's  monitory  representation  ; 

"  Lean  not  on  earth  ;  'twill  pierce  thee  to  the  heart ; 

A  broken  reed  at  best ;  but  oft  a  spear  ; 

On  its  sharp  point  peace  bleeds,  and  hope  expires." 

Let  us  all  remember,  that  the  world  in  its  best  state 
cannot  suit  and  fill  an  immortal  spirit ;  that  its  purest 
enjoyments  are  at  once  mixed  and  unsatisfying,  preca- 
rious and  transitory.  Reason,  experience,  and  revela- 
tion unitedly  proclaim  that  all  below  is  vanity.  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,  Fa\'0ur  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain. 
Riches  take  to  themselves  wings,  and  fly  away.  World* 
Iv  honour  and  sensual  eratification  afford  but  a  short- 
lived  gleam  of  pleasure.  Earthly  friendships  are  im- 
perfect and  mortal.  The  world  itself  is  passing  away. 
From  henceforth  then  let  us  seek  a  better  country,  that 
is,  an  heavenly.  Ye  that  seek  it,  seek  it  early.  Set 
your  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  of  the. 
earth.  For,  by  your  Christian  baptism  and  profession, 
ye  are  dead  to  the  Avorld,  and  alive  to  God  and  heaven. 
Act  agreeably  to  this  profession.  Let  your  life  be  hid 
with  Christ  in  God.  Then,  when  Christ,  who  is  our 
life,  shall  appear,  }  e  also  shall  appear  with  him  in  glory. 
c  c 


@)ermon  xiv. 

On  the  Divine  Preference  of  Mercy  to 
Sacrifice. 


Matthew  xii.  7. 
/  ivill  haiic  mercy^    arid  not  sacrifice. 

JL  HIS  passage  is  quoted  by  our  Saviour  from  the 
Old  Testament,  to  justify  his  disciples  in  gathering  and 
rubbing  out  a  few  handfuls  of  corn,  for  their  necessary 
refreshment  on  the  Sabbath  day.  When  the  supersti- 
tious Pharisees  condemned  this  action,  as  a  profana- 
tion of  the  Sabbath,  Jesus  repels  the  accusation  by  show- 
ing, from  their  own  scriptures,  that  God  requires  acts 
of  charity  before  positive  or  ceremonial  observances. 

When  God  declares  by  his  prophet,  "  I  desired  mer- 
cy, and  not  sacrifice,"  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew  lan- 
guage, and  the  general  tenor  of  Scripture,  oblige  us  to 
understand  it  in  a  comparative  sense  ;  as  importing  that 
the  Deity  values  sacrifice  y^r  less  tlian  mercy,  and  when 
they  interfere  with  each  other,  he  requires  us  to  omit 
the  former,  and  attend  to  the  latter.  Many  important 
texte,  both  in  the  old  and  new  Testament,  must  be  evi- 
dently expounded  in  this  comparative  sense. 

The  words,  thus  explained,  suggest  the  follo'vving 
proposition  ;  That  moral  duties  towards  men  are  a  more 
valuable  and  essential  branch  of  religion,  than  external 
acts  of  worship  towards  God. 

To  set  the  proposition  before  us  in  a  correct  and  just 
light,  I  must  observe  that  religion  essentially  consists 


Ser.  XIV.]    THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE,  &c.  165 

in  tlie  respect  of  dependent  creatures  to  their  Creator ; 
which  respect,  expressed  in  every  suitable  way,  com- 
prises the  whole  of  religious  duty.  Hence  acts  of  jus- 
tice and  charity  towards  men  may  and  do  form  a  part 
of  religion,  because  a  true  regard  to  God  will  prompt 
sincere  love  and  beneficence  to  his  creatures ;  and  when 
these  social  affections  and  offices  flow  from  a  pious  re* 
spect  to  God  ;  when  only  a  cup  of  cold  water  h  given  to 
one  of  Christ's  disciples,  as  a  testimony  of  love  and  obe- 
dience to  him  ;  it  is  as  properly  an  exercise  of  true  re- 
ligion, as  those  duties,  which  immediately  refer  to  our 
Maker. 

Accordingly,  the  duties  of  religion  are  justly  divided 
into  tVA'O  great  classes  ;  one  of  which  refers  imme- 
diately to  God,  the  other  to  man.  It  must  be  further 
observed,  that  the  worship  of  God  consists  of  two  parts, 
external  and  internal :  the  former  is  made  up  of  bodily 
and  visible  action ;  the  latter  of  the  secret  dispositions 
and  exercises  of  the  heart.  The  one  is  an  outward  sign 
or  manifestation  of  the  other,  and  is  also  an  essential  in- 
gredient in  social  or  public  worship  ;  as  without  it  our 
common  sentiments  and  feelings  could  not  be  expressed. 
But  internal  homage,  consisting  in  hearty  love,  rever- 
ence, gratitude,  penitence,  and  desire,  constitutes  the 
main  part,  yea  the  soul  of  true  religion  and  of  acceptable 
worship.  To  illustrate  still  further  this  important  dis- 
tinction, let  us  attend  to  the  ancient  Jewish  sacrifices, 
to  which  our  text  alludes,  and  which  formed  a  large  part 
of  God's  ancient  instituted  worship. 

The  killing  and  offering  of  beasts  upon  the  altar  was 
the  external  part,  or  the  body  of  that  worship  ;  \\hile  love 
to  God,  repentance  of  sin,  and  faith  m  tiie  future  sacrifice 
of  Christ,  were  the  inward  and  vital  spirit  of  it.  The 
latter  was  an  indispensable  duty  at  all  seasons  and  in  all 


166  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE  [Ser.  XIV. 

situations,  because  it  was  of  moral  and  immutable  obli- 
gation. But  the  former  varied,  according  to  the  cif- 
cumstances,  opportunities,  and  abilities  of  the  subject. 
Agreeably,  the  apostle  tells  us,  that,  where  there  is  a 
willing  mind,  a  man  is  accepted  according  to  that  \\hich 
he  hath,  and  not  according  to  that  ^^•hich  he  hath  not. 
While  therefbrc  Qod  always  requires  the  homage  of  otir 
hearts,  he  may  alter,  and  even  sometimes  dispense  with 
visible  forms  of  devotion,  where  circumstances  or  some, 
greater  duties  forbid  their  observance. 

Accordingly,  we  are  now  prepared  to  prove,  that  acts 
of  justice,  mercy,  and  usefulness  to  our  fellow  men  are 
greater  duties,  than  external  religious  worship ;  though 
they  are  confessedly  inferior  to  that  inward  de^'otion  to- 
wards our  Maker,  which  is  the  first  and  parent  duty. 
This  superiority  of  moral  duties  is  confirmed,  not  only 
by  the  express  declaration  of  our  text,  but  by  numer- 
ous arguments  both  from  Scripture  and  reason. 

In  the  frst  place,  the  Bible  insists  on  these  moral 
virtues  much  more,  than  it  does  on  external  worship. 
Even  the  law  of  Moses,  tliough  very  strict  and  copious 
in  its  ritual  prescriptions,  yet  dwells  with  peculiar  fre- 
quency and  emphasis  upon  social  duties. 

In  the  twenty -third  chapter  of  Exodus,  that  inspired 
la\vgiver  enumerates  a  long  catalogue  of  moral  \'irtues, 
and  denounces  a  dreadful  sentence  upon  those,  who  neg- 
lected them.  *'  Thou  shalt  not  wrest  the  judgment 
of  the  poor.  Thou  shalt  not  falsely  accuse  nor  slay 
the  innocent.  Thou  shalt  take  no  gift  in  judgment. 
Thou  shalt  not  oppress  the  stranger.  Six  years  shalt 
thou  sow  thy  land,  but  the  seventh  thou  shalt  let  it  rest, 
that  the  poor  of  thy  people  may  eat."  In  Deuterono- 
my, he  dwells  still  more  largely  and  earnesdy  on  the 
same  topics.     "  Thou  shalt  not  harden  thy  heart,  nor 


Ser.  XIV.3       OF  MERCY  TO  SACRIPIQE.  1C7 

shut  thy  hand  from  thy  poor  brother,  but  thou  shalt 
open  thy  hand  wide  unto  him.  That  \\  hich  is  altogeth- 
er just  shalt  thou  follow,  that  thou  mayest  live."  In 
the  twenty-seventh  chapter  of  that  book,  he  directs  the 
Levites  to  stand  on  Mount  Ebal,  and  solenuily  declare 
the  curse  of  God  upon  transgressors;  and  it  is  re- 
markable that  of  eleven  different  sorts  of  offenders  thus 
denounced,  ten  are  doomed  for  violating  moral  and 
relative  duties,  and  one  only  for  neglecting  or 
corrupting  the  ceremonies  of  religion.  It  is  also  re- 
markable, that  six  of  those  ten  commands,  which  form 
the  basis,  and  exhibit  the  leading  spirit  of  the  Jewish 
system,  and  indeed  of  all  true  religion,  ai^e  devoted  to 
the  several  branches  of  social  virtue.  Agreeably,  the 
great  body  of  the  Old  Testament  prophets  insist  fre- 
quently and  principally  upon  justice,  mercy,  and  truth-; 
and  they  promise  the  favour  and  best  blessings  of  God 
on  those,  who  steadily  practise  them.  The  Jewish 
Scriptures  very  often  characterize  the  godly  man,  by 
the  epithets  y'wr,  merciful^  upright. 

The  same  features  are  conspicuous  in  the  N^w  Tes- 
tament writings.  When  \arious  descriptions  of  men 
resorted  to  John,  to  receive  his  instruction  and  baptism, 
he  chiefly  inculcated  moral  reformation  and  social  du- 
ty. Our  Saviour  too,  in  his  sermon  on  the  mount, 
d^^ells  principally  on  a  right  temper  and  conduct  to- 
wards our  fellow  men,  and  pronounces  blessings  on 
persons  of  this  character.  The  writings  of  the  apostles 
are  likewise  full  of  moral  precepts.  E^■en  those  epis- 
tles, whose  prime  object  is  the  illustration,  proof,  or  de- 
fence of  evangelical  doctrines,  yet  hold  up  Christian  mo- 
rality as  the  great  end  and  fruit  of  these  doctrines,  and 
by  these  they  pathetically  urge  believers  to  mutual  love 
and  kindness,  justice  and  truth,  forgiveness  an^  long- 


158  THE  .DIVINE  PREFERENCE      [Ser.XIV. 

suffering,  and  the  whole  train  of  relative  virtues.  Since 
therefore  these  duties  are  far  more  insisted  on  through- 
out the  Bible,  than  external  worship,  we  strongly  infer 
their  superior  importance. 

Secondly.  When  these  two  branches  of  duty  arc 
mentioned  or  compared  together  in  Scripture,  the  former 
is  evidently  preierred  to  the  latter. 

Thus,  when  the  prophet  Isaiah  charges  the  Jewish 
people  with  awful  degeneracy  and  wickedness,  he  pred- 
icates this  charge,  not  upon  their  neglect  of  external 
v,'orship  (for  they  abounded  in  sacrifices  and  oblations, 
in  solemn  meetings  and  festivals) ;  but  upon  their  violation 
of  justice  and  mercy,  without  which  he  assures  them 
that  their  multiplied  religious  observances  were  iniquity 
and  abomination.     He  therefore  calls  upon  them  to  re- 
form from  their  unrighteousness  and  cruelty,  to  seek 
judgment  and  .relie\'e  the  oppressed,  to  judge  the  father- 
less and  plead  for  the  widow ;   and  on  this  condition 
promises  them  the  divine  acceptance  and  blessing.     In 
another  part  of  his  prophecy,  after  describing  the  people 
of  Israelis  taking  delight  in  approaching  to  God,  in  fast- 
ing, praying,  and  attending  ordinances,  and  as  complain- 
ing that  their  zealous  services  were  not  accepted,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  inform  them,  that  the  more  acceptable  fast  is  to 
•'  break  every  yoke  of  oppression,  to  deal  their  bread  to 
the  hungry,  and  to  cover  the  naked."     In  tliis  way  he 
assures  them  of  the  divine  benediction.     The  prophet 
Micah    also,    after    speaking   with  comparative   con- 
tempt of  burnt  offerings,  or  of  presenting  to  God  thou- 
sands of  rams,  or  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil,  adds ; 
*'  He  hath  shoAied  thee,  O  man,  \N'hat  is  good  ;  and  ^^^hat 
dotli  the  Lord  thy  God  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly, 
to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God?" 


Ser.  xivo     of  mercy  to  sacrifice.  169 

The  same  decided  prefercnce  of  morality  to  external 
devotion  marks  many  other  passages  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. Our  Saviour  frequently  pronounces  the  same 
decision  ;  and,  in  express  terms,  styles  judgment,  mer- 
cy, and  fidelity  the  VAcightier  matters  of  the  law. 

Thirdly.  The  history  of  the  Bible  shows,  that  verr 
degenerate  and  hypocritical  professors  of  religion  more 
commonly  abound  in  acts  of  M'orship,  than  in  moral  du- 
ties. This,  we  have  just  seen,  was  remarkably  true  of 
ancient  Israel.  It  was  equally  true  of  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  those  worst  of  hypocrites,  in  the  time  of  our 
Saviour.  They  were  very  precise  in  performing  their 
religious  ceremonies,  while  they  covetously  and  cruelly 
devoured  Vvidows'  houses.  These  facts  prove,  that  a 
zealous  and  persevering  attachment  to  devout  forms  k 
far  more  consistent  with  a  false  and  degenerate  heai't, 
than  the  steady  practice  of  social  virtue ;  and  consequent- 
ly that  the  latter  is  more  excellent,  and  a  more  de- 
cisive symptom  of  a  good  character,  than  the  former. 

Fourthly.  When  the  gospefdirects  us  to  show  our  faith 
by  our  works,  it  principalh^  intends  works  of  justice  and 
charity.  Thus  the  apostle  James,  when  pointing  out 
the  best  fruits  and  evidences  of  saving  faith,  says  ;  "If 
ye  fulfil  the  royal  law,  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself,  ye  do  well."  He  goes  on  ;  "  What  doth  it 
profit,  my  brethren,  if  a  man  say  he  hath  faith,  and  hath 
not  works  ;  can  faith  save  him  ?  If  a  brother  or  sister 
be  naked  and  destitute  of  daily  food  ;  and  one  of  you 
say  to  them,  go  your  way,  be  ye  warmed  and  filled ; 
not\vithstanding  ye  give  them  not  the  things  which  are 
needful  for  the  body;  what  doth  it  profit?"  This  im- 
plies that  such  profession  of  faith  is  as  unprofitable  and 
as  hollow,  as  good  words  to  the  naked  and  hungry  with- 
out giving  them  any  assistance.     He  accordingly  adds. 


I7(y  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE      [Ser.  XIV. 

"  Even  so  faith,''  if  it  have  not  works,  that  is,  such  as 
sire  enjoined  in  the  royal  law  just  mentioned,  "  is  dead  ;'' 
that  is,  it  is  wholly  lifeless  and  unprofitable  ;  yea,  as  the 
apostle  proceeds  to  affirm,  it  is  no  better,  than  the  fajth 
of  devils  ;  for  it  is  a  faith  without  love  and  its  beneficent 
fruits,  and  of  course  has  nothing  of  the  spirit  of  true  re- 
lii^ion  or  morality.  Accordingly,  the  apostle  John  re- 
presents it  as  a  natural  impossibility  for  a  man  to  love 
God,  and  yet  neglect  acts  of  kindness  to  his  neighbour. 
*'  Whoso  hath  this  world's  goods,  and  seeth  his  brother 
in  need,  and  shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion  from 
him;  how  dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  him?"  And 
through  his  whole  epistle,  he  insists  on  brotherly  love 
and  its  fruits,  as  the  surest  mark  of  love  to  God.  Saint 
James  likewise,  when  summai'ily  describing  real  Chris- 
tianity, says,  "  Pure  religion  and  undcfiled  is  this,  to 
visit  the  fatherless  and  widow  in  their  affliction."  All 
which  al3undantly  confirms  the  proposition  before  us. 

llfthly.  ,  The  Scriptures  represent  our  final  sentence, 
as  turning  eminently  upon  our  moral  works.  Christ, 
who  is  to  be  our  Judge,  tells  us,  that  many  in  the  day  of 
judgment  v/ill  plead  their  great  religious  professions  and 
performances  ;  tlicy  a^  ill  urge,  that  they  have  prophesi- 
ed in  his  name,  that  they  ha\'e  eaten  and  drunk  in  his 
presence,  or  at  his  table  ;  but  their  plea  will  be  rejected. 
On  the  contrary,  \Aorks  of  love  and  mercy  to\rards  men, 
especially  to\\'ards  afflicted  Christians,  are  stated  to  be 
the  principal  things,  which  the.  Judge  will  honourably 
mention  and  reward  in  the  righteous,  and  the  neglect  of 
^vhich  he  will  punish  in  the  wicked.  He  will  accept 
the  former,  as  if  done  to  himself ;  because  they  flowed 
from,  and  exhibit  the  best  evidence  of  a  spirit  of  faith, 
love,  and  obedience  to  him ;  iirxX  he  will  condemn  the 
.latter,  as  aflbrding  the  most  decisive  proof  of  a  want  of 


Ser.  XIV.3       OF  MERCY  TO  SACRIFICE,  171 

true  affection  to  himself.  Our  Sa\iour,  in  the  twenty- 
fifth  chapter  of  Matthew,  describes  this  final  process 
and  decision  in  the  most  particulate  simple,  and  affect- 
ing manner.  We  must  suppose,  that  in  this  descrip- 
tion, the  most  important  and  distinguishing  marks  both 
of  Christ's  friends  and  enemies  are  held  up  to  our  view. 
Yet  we  find  no  mention  made  of  external  worship,  nor 
of  any  thing,  but  the  performance  or  omission  of  moral 
duties.  How  strong  then  is  the  inference  that  these, 
next  to  inward  piety,  are  the  most  excellent  part  of  re- 
ligion ! 

Having  supported  our  doctrine  by  a  variety  of  scrip- 
tural proof,  let  us  listen  a  few  moments  to  the  voice  of 
reason  on  this  subject ;  w  hich  will  not  only  further  es- 
tablish the  point  in  hand,  but  show  us  the  rational 
grounds  of  its  truth. 

Now,  in  the  view  of  reason,  moral  duties  are  superior 
to  outward  religious  ceremonies,  because  the  former 
are  right  and  excellent  in  their  oxmi  nature^  and  consti- 
tute a  great  part  of  the  end  of  religion ;  while  the  latter 
are  useful  chiefly,  as  signs  or  instruments  of  somethine- 
further.  Moral  truth,  justice,  and  cliarity,  are  unchang- 
ably  fit  and  beautiful  in  ihemseives  :  they  are  immedi- 
ately necessary  and  conducive  to  the  general  p-ood  as 
well,  as  to  the  true  perfection  of  the  agent.  When 
rightly  performed,  they  imply  that  holiness,  and  directly 
promote  that  happiness,  which  are  the  ultimate  object  of 
ail  religious  institutions.  But  the  external  worship  of 
God  is  valuable  chiefly,  as  a  sign  of  inward  piety,  or  a 
mean  of  moral  goodness.  Substantial  or  practical  vir- 
tue is,  therefore,  as  much  superior  to  religious  rites, 
as  the  end  is  superior  to  the  means,  or  real  excellence  to 
the  mere  sign  or  expression  of  it, 
D  d 


172  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE       [Ser.  XIV. 

Again,  by  outward  devotion  we  express  our  regard  to 
God  by  words,  or  professions  only  ;  but  by  good  works 
to  our  neighbour  we  show  our  respect  to  God  by  deeds. 
When  a  man  publicly  professes  the  religion,  and  attends 
the  ordinances  of  Christ,  he  only  calls  him  Lord,  Lord  ; 
but  if  he  imitates  and  obeys  him  by  a  meek,  kind,  and 
useful  conduct,  he  actually  does  the  things,  which  he 
saith.  If  a  man  worship  God  by  prayer  and  praise, 
he  expresses  with  his  lips  a  devout  and  suppliant,  a  pen- 
itent and  thankful  spirit ;  but  a  conscientious  discharge 
of  all  moral  duties  expresses  the  same  spirit  in  language 
far  more  credible  and  emphatical ;  I  mean,  the  language 
of  the  life :  he  loves  God  and  men,  not  in  word  and 
tongue  only,  but  in  deed  and  in  truth. 

We  may  add,  that  the  steady  practice  of  moral  virtues 
Is  far  more  crossing  to  a  selfish,  proud,  and  depra\^ed 
heart,  than  the  performance  of  religious   rites.       The 
latter   in  many  cases  may   be  observed  without  much 
expense  or  self  denial.     Instead  of  counteracting,  they 
may  be  rendered  subservient  to  worldly  interest,  repu- 
tation, and  po^\'er.     Thus  the  ceremonial  strictness  and 
long  prayers  of  the  Pharisees  were  at  once  the  cloak 
and  the  engine  of  their  insatiable  avarice,  ambition  and 
vanity.     They  served  to  varnish  their   characters,    to 
promote  their  vices,  to  quiet  their  guilty  consciences, 
and  to  nourish  their  religious  hopes.     But  a  life  of  strict 
justice  and  fidelity  to  their  neighbours,  of  condescend- 
ing and  liberal  charitv  to  the  poor  and  afflicted,  A\ould 
have  contradicted  their  selfish  and  haughty  dispositions  ; 
it  would  have  been  a  costly  and  fatal  sacrifice  of  their 
covetous  and  criminal  pursuits. 

These  observations  apply  still  more  strongly  to  the 
ceremonial  and  moral  precepts  of  Christianity.  The 
religious  institutions  of  the  gospel  are  so  few  and  simple. 


Seb.  XIV.]        OF  MERCY  TO  SACRIFICE.  173 

tliat  persons  may  \isibly  attend  them,  without  greatly 
taxing  or  suspending  their  worldly  ease,  emolument,  or 
pleasure.  At  the  same  time,  these  institutions  have  so 
serious  and  sacred  an  aspect,  that  a  regular  and  zealous 
attendance  upon  them  may  be  made  a  convenient  cover, 
compensation,  or  instrument,  of  the  most  immoral 
dispositions  and  purposes.  But  the  practice  of  Christian 
morality  implies  the  sacrifice  of  personal  ease  and  hon- 
our, interest  and  pleasure,  to  the  good  of  our  neighbour 
and  the  public.  It  implies  that  expensive,  resolute,  and 
persevering  self  denial,  which  is  one  of  the  best  proofs 
of  a  virtuous  heart. 

Hence  the  performance  of  moral  duties  reflects  great- 
er honour  upon  God  and  religion,  than  external  devotion. 
For  it  exhibits  a  more  decisive  testimony,  a  more  self 
denving  proof,  of  inward  respect  and  obedience  to  God. 
It  is  honouring  him.,  not  by  cheap  professions  only,  but 
by  costly  sacrifices.  It  implies  an  affectionate  and  sted- 
fast  imitation  of  his  moral  character.  It  immediately 
reflects  and  recommends  his  moral  beauty  and  glory. 
By  practically  loving  our  neighbour  as  ourselves,  by 
showing  an  invincible  regard  to  the  rules  of  justice  and 
charity,  we  prove  in  the  best  manner  our  devotion  to 
the  command,  /example,  and  honour  of  our  Maker  and 
Redeemer ;  we  8;ive  the  most  convincing;  testimonv,  that 
God  is  worthy  to  be  regarded  and  obeyed  in  the  greatr 
est  and  most  self  denying  instances,  and  that  inordinate 
self-interest,  in  all  its  claims  and  appearances,  is  to  be 
readilv  sacrificed  on  his  altar. 

,  In  short,  ^\orks  of  bene\'olence,  while  they  glorify  God 
in  the  most  substantial  manner,  directly  contribute  to 
the  good  of  his  creatures,  and  thus  accomplish  the 
two  great  ends  of  religion,  namely,  the  happiness  of  the 
universe,  and  the  honour  of  its  Creator. 


174  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE       [Ser.  XIV, 

We  readily  grant,  that  if  our  goodness  extended  to 
God,  as  it  does  to  man ;  if  our  external  worship  could 
benefit  the  former,  as  our  charit  ible  oifices  do  the  latter ; 
in  this  case  our  obligation  to  acts  of  de\otion  would  as 
far  exceed  that  of  social  duties,  as  God  is  greater  than 
man.  But  the  transcendent  greatness  of  the  Deity,  while* 
it  entitles  him  to  the  first  place  in  our  hearts,  exalts  hiiri 
infinitely  above  the  necessity  or  possibility  of  receiving 
benefit  from  our  services.  He  has,  therefore,  appointed 
his  sensitive  and  rational  creatures,  especially  such  of 
them  as  are  peculiarly  dependent  or  indigent,  to  be  his 
deputies  or  representati^^es,  to  receive  from  us  those 
beneficent  offices,  which  we  cannot  immediately  perform 
to  himself.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  next  to  the 
lo-\'e  of  our  Creator,  our  most  important  duty  is  to  seek 
each  other's  welfare,  and  in  this  way  to  give  the  most 
acceptable  proof  both  of  our  piety  and  benevolence. 

Our  subject,  in  revie\v,  furnishes  a  strong  argument 
for  the  truth  and  divinity  of  the  Bible.  The  Scriptures 
harmonize  with  sober  reason  in  making  love  to  God  the 
first  dut}^  of  religion,  and  in  assigning  the  second  rank  to 
right  affection  and  conduct  towards  men.  In  this  point 
Christianity  essentially  differs  from,  and  infinitely  excels, 
all  other  systems.  The  pagan,  mahometan,  and  popish 
religions  lay  the  main  stress  on  ceremonial  observances ; 
while  modern  infidel  philosophy,  being  compelled,  by 
the  light  and  influence  of  revelation,  to  abandon  the  ab- 
surd and  foul  superstitions  of  ancient  systems,  has  erect- 
ed a  partial  and  external  morality  on  the  ruins  of  piety-; 
!t  has  expunged  both  the  inward  and  outward  \\'orship 
of  Deity  from  the  catalogue  of  human  duties.  Christiani- 
ty alone  steers  a  safe  and  middle  course  between  these 
fatal  extremes.  It  comprises  the  whole  of  virtue  in  the 
love  of  God  and  our  neighbour^     It  makes  substantial 


Ssn.  XIV.]         OP  MERCY  tO  SACRlEItfi,  175 

beneficence  to  the  latter  the  best  fruit  and  evidence  of 
our  regard  to  the  former.  When  we  compare  the  gos- 
pel in  this  particular  with  the  best  efforts  of  human  rea- 
son, we  are  constrained  to  regard  it,  as  the  offspring  of 
divine  wisdom  and  benevolence. 

Hence  secondly,   our  doctrine  suggests  an  easy  an- 
swer to  one  of  the  most  plausible  and  common  objections 
against  revealed  religion.     It  is  often  objected  by  free- 
thinkers, that  the  Bible  is  a  superstitious,,  fanatical,  and 
contemptible  book,  because  it  enjoins  so  many  religious 
ceremonies,  which  in  themselves  are  unmeaning  and 
useless.     But  such  persons  should  consider  that  this 
same  book  holds  up  substantial  piet}"  and  morality,  as 
the  end  and   crovv^i  of  all  these   ritual   observances. 
They  should  also  consider,   that  in  the  present  state  of 
human  nature,  the  love  and  practice  of  moral  goodness 
can  neither  be  duly  expressed,  secured,  nor  promoted, 
\i-ithout  some  outward  forms  of  religious  worship  and 
instruction.     But  reason  and  fact  assure  us,   that  the 
numerous  ceremonies  enjoined  on  the  ancient  Jews  were 
of  essential    importance  to  preserve  that  gross  and  in- 
tractable nation  in  the  faith  and  service  of  the  true  God, 
and  the  consequent  practice  of  stiict,  uncorrupted  virtue- 
It  is  equally  manifest,  that  the  regular  observance  of  the 
Christian  Sabbath  and  its  public  ordinances  is  highly 
important   to    the   interests  of    practical  religion  and 
morality.     We  may  add,  the  objection  before  us  im- 
peaches the  nisdoni  of  all  nations  and  ages,  in  appoint- 
■inn-  visible  symbols  and  rites,  as  seals  and  memorials  of 
important  civil  transactions  and  events.     If  America  has 
acted  a  "wise  and  useful  part  in  commemorating  die  birth 
of  her  independence,   or  the  nativity  and  death  of  her 
most  distinguished  patriot ;  it  must  surely  be  equally 
proper  and  beneficial  for  Gliiistians  to  celebrate  their  d}- 


176  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE       [See.  XIV. 

ing  and  risen  Redeemer,  and  to  attend  those  stated  pub- 
lic memorials  and  instructions,  which  remind  them  of 
the  great  moral  duties  they  owe  to  him  and  one  another. 
Those,  \\  ho  ridicule  Christianity  on  this  ground,  instead 
of  showing  a  correct  and  liberal  mind,  or  any  real  friend- 
ship to  moral  virtue,  prove  themselves  strangers  to  both. 
Hence  thirdly,  our  subject  condemns  all  those,  \^ho 
make  a  separation  between  devotion  and  morality,  or 
V'ho  exalt  one  on  the  ruins  of  the  other.  There  are 
many  nominal  Christians,  \'iho  seem  to  place  the  whole 
of  religion  in  orthodox  laich,  pious  feeling,  or  devout 
external  forms  ;  while  they  overlook,  or  perhaps  despise 
the  moral  duties  of  the  gospel,  and  can  hardly  endure 
those  preachers,  by  \\hom  tliey  are  frequendy  enforced. 
The  religion  of  this  class  of  men,  instead  of  making 
them  good  members  of  domestic,  civil,  and  Christian 
society,  often  renders  them  selfish  and  unfeeling,  proud 
and  censorious,  contentious  and  unmerciful.  But  such 
persons  should  consider  that  true  piety  is  an  unfailing 
spring  of  moral  goodness;  that  the  main  proof  and  glo- 
ry of  it  consist  in  the  steady  love  and  practice  of  those 
virtues,  which  assimilate  human  natuj'e  to  the  divine  j 
or  which  render  men  like  God  in  justice  and  truth,  in 
i^ctive,  universal  benevolence.  The}'  should  consider, 
that  the  inost  strict  and  zealous  attendance  on  religious 
ordinances  is  useful  and  acceptable  only,  as  it  expresses 
and  promotes  the  lo\'e  of  God  and  our  nciglibour  ;  ar.d 
that  the  best  evidence  of  this  love,  both  to  oursehes  and 
to  the  world,  is  a  temper  and  life  devoted  to  the  general 
good.  In  short,  as  faith  without  A\orks,  so  prayers  with- 
out alms,  and  good  feelings  witliout  virtuous  actions,  are 
essentially  defective,  in  the  sight  of  omniscient  purity. 
Let  such  persons  farther  consider,  Avhat  solemn  ipiport- 
ance  and  dignity  the  Bible  has  contcrred  on  moral  du- 


Sfr.xiv.]     of  mercy  to  sacrifice.  177 

ties,  by  ranking  them  higher  than  the  immediate  wor- 
ship of  God  himself.  That  infinite  Being,  who  justly 
merits  and  strictly  requires  our  private  and  public  hom- 
age ;  \\  ho  in  ancient  times  condemned  to  instant  death 
the  man,  '\\ho  profaned  his  Sabbath  ;  has  yet  expressly 
directed  that  his  own  sacred  worship  shall  give  place  to 
needful  offices  of  kindness  to  his  rational,  yea  even  to 
his  inferior  creatures  !  How  then  can  any  flatter  them- 
selves that  they  are  serving  and  pleasing  God,  while  they 
are  habitually  unkind  to  their  fellow-men,  or  even  to  the 
brutal  creation,  however  religious  they  may  seem  to  be  I 
But  there  is  an  opposite  description  of  men,  who  in- 
sist that  morality  is  the  whole  of  religion  ;  that  works  of 
justice  and  charity  are  the  only  duties,  which  possess 
any  worth  or  utility ;  and  that  the  performance  of  these 
will  certainly  entitle  them  to  the  favour  of  God  and  the 
happiness  of  heaven.  But  this  opinion  is  condemned  by 
the  whole  current  of  Scripture  as  well,  as  by  the  clear- 
est dictates  of  reason.  That  God  ought  to  be  worship- 
ped, is  a  natural  and  uniform  sentiment  of  the  human 
mind.  Both  the  law  and  gospel  echo  this  sentiment. 
Our  blessed  Saviour,  who  was  our  perfect  exemplar, 
constantly  united  devotion  with  charity.  He  strictly  ob- 
ser^ed  the  ceremonies  of  the  Mosaic  law.  Will  any 
pretend  that  their  knowledge  and  'virtue  place  them 
above  the  need  of  those  ordinances,  which  are  sanction- 
ed both  by  the  example  and  authority  of  Christ  himself? 
Will  they  arrogandy  say,  that  their  moral  attainments 
are  greater,  or  their  sentiments  more  correct,  than  his? 
If  He  thou2:ht  an  attendance  on  relig-lous  institutions  nee- 
essary  to  show  a  due  regard  to  the  divine  authority,  to 
complete  his  own  moral  character,  and  to  influence 
others  to  such  attendance  by  the  weight  of  his  example  ; 
does  it  not  equally  become  imperfect  men,  of  whatever 


178  THE  DIVINE  PREFERENCE,  Sec.     [Ser.  XlV. 

description,  to  conduct  on  the  same  principles?  Can  a 
person  be  a  truly  moral  man,^  who  does  not  obey  e^dery 
divine  command?  \\ho  does  hot  reverence  and  worship 
his  Maker,  a  Being  of  infinite  moral  excellence  ?  Can 
J  hat  man  be  steadily  just  and  faithful  to  his  fellow  crea- 
tures from  a  sense  of  duty,  vrho  is  unjust  and  disobedient 
to  his  Creator  and  Redeemer  ?  Can  he  be  qualified  to 
serve  and  enjoy  God  forever  in  his  temple  above,  who 
takes  no  pleasure  in  worshipping  him  here  below  ? 

May  divine  grace  impress  these  solemn  hints  on  each 
of  our  hearts  !  May  we  ail  be  instructed  to  unite  mercy 
and  sacrince,  the  social  and  divine  virtues  in  our  charac- 
ters here,  that  we  may  be  fitted  for  the  jDcrfect  exercises 
and  pleasures  of  worship  and  charity  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 


@)crmDn  xv. 


On  Christian  Hope. 


1  John  iii.  3. 

Eijery  marij  that  hath  this  hope  in  him^  purijieth  him- 
self^ eiien  as  he  is  pure, 

JL  HE  apostle  in  this  chapter  endeavours  to  comfort 
and  inflame  his  fellow  Christians,  by  setting  before  them 
the  transcendent  greatness  of  God's  love,  and  the  ex- 
cellency of  those  privileges,  which  accrue  to  them  from 
it.  "  Behold,  what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestow- 
ed upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called  the  sons  of  God !" 
This  wonderful  privilege  of  being  the  children  of  God, 
is  granted  to,  and  enjoyed  by  the  saints,  even  in  the 
present  life  :  "  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God." 
But  still  greater  privileges  are  reserved  for  their  future 
enjoyment ;  "for  we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear, 
we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." 
What  a  sublime  and  comforting  prospect !  A  prospect 
which,  though  its  object  be  future  and  distant,  conveys 
a  good  degree  of  present  animation  and  fruition,  through 
the  anticipating  influence  of  Christian  hope.  Even  the 
remote  view  or  expectation  of  such  a  felicity  gives  more 
delight  and  satisfaction,  than  the  present  enjoyment  of 
the  highest  sublunary  good. 

At  the  same  time,  this  hope  of  heavenly  glory,  far 
from  lulling  its  possessor  into  indolent  security,    or  en- 
couraging him  to  carnal  and  forbidden  indulgence,  is  the 
most    powerful   and   constraining    incentive   to   duty. 
E  e    • 


180  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE:.  [Ser.  XV. 

*'  He  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,  purifieth  himself,  even 
as  He  is  pure."  While  his  supreme  desire  and  expec- 
tation centre  in  the  future  beatific  vision  and  likeness  of 
his  Lord,  Ite  feels  himself  incited  to  resemble  him  as 
liiuch  as  possible,  aiid  thus  to  make  the  nearest  ap- 
proaches to,  and  the  best  preparation  for  his  expected 
felicity. 

Wheii  the  Christian  is  said  to  purify  himself  the 
idea  is,  that  he  acts  in  this  affair  as  a  dependent,  subor- 
dinate ag-ent ;  that  he  is  a  worker  with  and  under  God  ; 
that  havjn{>-  received  an  habitual  principle  of  holiness 
from  the  Spirit  of  grace,  he,  by  the  conciirring-aid  of  the 
sanie  Spirit,  diligently  exerts  this  principle,  or  improves 
this  talent,  in  a  steady  course  of  virtuous  and  useful 
t^onduct. 

When  the  believer  is  further  described  as  purifying 
himself,  'c^ccm  as  Christ  is  pure;  the  phrase  even  as 
denotes  a  resemblance  in  kind,  not  an  equality  in  de- 
gree. It  imports  that  the  expectant  of  future  glory  pos- 
sesses, and  studiously  culfnates,  the  same  love  and 
meekness,  the  same  pure  and  heavenly  dispositions,  the 
same  spirit  of  submission,  conformity,  and  obedience  to 
God,  vhich  Mere  perfectly  exemplified  in  Jesus  his 
master  ;  though  he  never  does  nor  can  reach  that  ar- 
dour and  strength  of  virtue,  which  appeared  in  this  di- 
vine Exemplar.  Thus,  in  the  natural  body,  the  same 
vital  fiuid,  in  kind^  which  d\\  ells  and  flows  in  the  head, 
pervades  all  the  inferior  members ;  though  in  the  former 
it  may  be  accompanied  with  more  refined  and  vigorous 
spirits.  Though  wc  should  grant  tlvat  the  Christian 
hope  prom])ts  an  earnest  pursuit  of  the  same  degree  of 
purity,  which  the  Saviour  possesses ;  yet  this  would 
not  infer  the  complete  success  of  such  pursuit ;  for  the 
best  imitation  of  the  feeble  copyist  can  never  equal 
the  absolute  perfection  of  the  oiiginal. 


Ser.  XV.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  181 

The  great  object  of  the  ensuing  discourse  "will  be,  t?o 
ilhistrate  and  confirm  the  purifying  eflicacy  of  the  Chris- 
tian hope.  In  order  to  which,  it  may  be  useful,  in  the 
first  place,  to  state  more  particularly,  what  is  included 
in  the  work  of  self  })urilication,  here  ascribed  to  the 
hoping  believer. 

Now  as  all  purification  impbrts  the  rej-no^al  of  defile- 
ment; so  this  expression,  in  the  moral  or  evangelical 
sense,  signifies  deliverance  from  the  pollution  of  sin. 
With  regard  to  the  defihng  power  of  sin  in  the  heart, 
this  must  be  gradually  destroyed  by  repeated  exercises 
of  penitential  sorrow  for  it ;  by  a  vigilant  prevention  of 
the  overt  acts,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  of  the  in^vai"d 
motions  of  it  in  future  ;  b}^  fi'equent  and  strict  inquiry 
into  the  state  of  our  minds  with  respect  to  sin  and  hoU- 
ness ;  by  planting  our  strongest  guard  against  constitu- 
tional or  fiivourite  vices  ;  by  keeping  our  bodily  senses 
and  appetites  under  a  constant  and  se\'ere  regulation  ; 
by  cherishing  habitual  regards  to  Christ  and  the  peculiar 
discoveries  of  his  gospel ;  and  finally,  by  calling  down 
succours  from  aboAC  by  earnest  and  continual  pra\'er. 

As  the  pra}-er  of  a  sincere  and  contrite  heart  is  the  ap- 
pointed medium  of  obtaining  sanctifying  influences  from 
Heaven,  so  it  has  an  effi  .icy  in  its  very  nature  to  purify 
and  exalt  the  soul.  For  it  awakens  and  increases  in  our 
minds  a  sense  of  the  majesty  and  goodness,  the  purity 
and  presence  of  God ;  and  thus  strengthens  our  im- 
pression of  the  evil  of  sin,  and  of  the  beauty  and  obliga'- 
tion  of  holiness.  It  multiplies  and  enhances  our  en- 
gagements and  motives  to  avoid  ir.iquit^^  to  resist 
temptation,  and  to  practise  duty.  Thus  it  extinguishes 
vicious  inclinations,  increases  the  tenderness  and  force 
of  conscience,  improves  our  relish  for  devout  and  spir- 
itual exercises  and  entertainments,  our  zeal  and  vigoiir 


182  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  [Ser.XV. 

in  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  our  endeavours  to  obtain  a 
temper  and  behaviour  corresponding  to  our  prayers. 

Having  thus  viewed  the  Christian  purifying  himself 
as  God  is  pure,  let  us  now  attend  to  the  happy  efficacy 
of  his  hope  in  promoting  this  moral  purity.  That  the 
hope  of  the  gospel  believer  must  have  this  salutary  in- 
fluence appears, 

First,  From  the  ;Z(^///r(?  of  its  object.  The  great  object 
of  the  Christian's  hope  is  eternal  happiness  in  the  perfect 
vision,  likeness,  and  consequent  fruition  of  his  God  and 
Redeemer.  He  expects,  when  his  Lord  shall  appear, 
to  be  like  him  both  in  holiness  and  blessedness  ;  because 
he  shall  then  see  him^  as  he  is. 

Now  the  hope  of  such  a  pure  and  elevated  happiness 
directly  implies,  and  promotes  a  temper  of  heart,  cor- 
responding with  the  object  in  view.  It  implies  such  a 
temper,  because  the  very  nature  of  hope  involves  love  to 
some  absent  good,  joined  to  the  cordial,  pleasing  desire 
and  expectation  of  ere  long  possessing  it.  It  therefore 
supposes  a  disposition  of  mind  conformed  or  attemper- 
ed to  this  good  :  otherwise  the  mind  could  not  expect 
it  with  pleasing  emotions,  but  would  regard  it  with  in- 
difference or  aversion  ;  that  is,  instead  of  hoping,  it 
would  rather  dread  its  arrival.  Consequently,  the  hope 
of  completely  resembling  God  hereafter  implies  a  sin- 
cere love  and  conformity  to  him  at  present,  producing 
an  ardent,  expecting,  joyful  desire  of  shortly  awaking  in 
Tiis  perfect  likeness.  The  hope  of  seeing  Christy  as  he  isy 
at  his  second  coming,  implies  some  affectionate,  assimi- 
lating, and  delightful  views  of  his  glory  and  love,  in  the 
present  state,  inspiring  fer\'cnt  aspirations  after  the  fu- 
ture beatific  vision. 

This  hope  likewise^ directly  profnotes  moral  purity  as 
well,  as  implies  it.      For  while  ihc  expecting  Christian 


Ser-  XV.]  ON  CHRITIAN  HOPE.  183 

beholds  and  anticipates  the  approaching  glor}^  of  Christ 
and  heaven,  he  will  insensibly  catch  the  image  of  that 
glory  ;  his  heart  will  receive  a  more  full  impression  of 
its  admired  object ;  and  thus  will  become  more  pure 
and  heavenly,  in  proportion  to  the  vigour  and  frequent 
exercise  of  its  Christian  hope.  His  desire  and  expecta- 
tion of  such  a  holy  felicity  will  likewise  engage  his  assid- 
uous culture  of  those  moral  qualities,  which  must  pre- 
pare him  for  it ;  \^■hich  alone  can  dispose,  invigorate, 
and  exalt  his  mind  for  the  sublime  employment  and 
bliss  of  heaven. 

A  pre\'ious  and  confirmed  habit  of  moral  purity  must 
qualify  Us  to  enjoy,  and  even  to  support  the  future  pres- 
ence and  glory  of  God ;  to  relish  and  delight  in  die 
moral  beauty  and  harmony  of  his  perfections,  and  to  be- 
hold the  smiles  of  his  approving  face.  The  subject  of 
an  earthly  so\'ereign,  who  desires  and  expects  to  be  ad- 
vanced into  his  master's  palace,  to  converse  and  live  in 
the  royal  presence,  will  studiously  adorn  and  fit  himself 
for  such  an  elevation.  David,  in  the  twenty- fourth 
psalm,  proposes  and  answers  this  momentous  question ; 
"  Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ?  Who 
shall  stand  in  his  holy  place  ?  He  that  hath  clean  hands 
and  a  pure  heart." 

Were  it  possil)le  for  us  to  enter  heaven  without  holi- 
ness, instead  of  being  a  seat  of  happiness,  it  would  be 
to  us  a  state  of  disgust,  mortification,  and  torment  ;  be- 
cause nothing  in  it  would  suit  our  vicious  and  carnal 
propensities.  None  but  the  pure  in  heart  can  derive 
any  blessedness  from  seeing  God.  To  those  of  an  op- 
posite character,  the  sight  and  presence  of  infinite  purity 
must  be  a  source  of  painful  aversion,  confusion,  and 
horror.  A  genuine  hope,  therefore,  of  so  refined  a 
felicity  must'stir  up  its  possessor  to  purify  himself,  as 


184  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  [Ser.  XV. 

Christ  is  pure  ;   that  in  this  way  he  may  be  quahlied  for 
the  expected  joys  of  his  immediate  presence. 

Again.  Christian  hohness  here  is  the  appointed  con- 
ditio?!  or  mean  of  future  blessedness.  It  ia  indispcnsa- 
bl}'  required  by  the  positive  constitution  of  God  as  well, 
as  by  the  very  nature  of  the  thing.  Now  the  reasonable 
hope  of  a  desired  end  is  ever  grounded  upon,  and  leads 
to,  a  vigorous  use  of  the  means,  which  are  nec'essary, 
or  conducive  to  the  attainment  of  it.  None  but  a  mad- 
man Mill  hope  to  reap  without  sowing,  or  \\ill  sow  one 
kind  of  seed,  and  expect  a  harvest  of  another.  If  we 
sow  tares,  we  cannot,  without  the  greatest  absurdity, 
expect  to  reap  the  finest  of  the  wheat.  In  like  manner, 
if  we  sow  the  seeds  of  vanity  and  sin  in  this  life,  m  hich 
is  the  spring  of  our  existence,  we.  must  expect  a  corres- 
ponding harvest  of  confirmed  depravity,  disappoint- 
ment, and  ruin  in  the  next.  There  is  no  reaping  life  e\er- 
lasting,  ^^"ithout  pre\iously  som ing  to  the  Spirit,  or  living 
a  spiritual  and  holy  life ;  and  therelbre  a  scriptural  hope  of 
everlasting  happiness  is  ever  connected  with  such  a  life, 
and  powerfully  cjuickens  its  subjects  to  persevere  and  im- 
prove in  it.  Which  suggests  another  idea,  ^  iz.  that  as 
Christian  purity  is  the  great  and  only  evidence  of  our  title 
to  heaven,  the  hope  of  it  must  not  onlv'  depend  upon  our 
having  this  evidence,  but  must  engage  us  to  preserve  it  in 
a  clear,  satisfying,  and  ad\ancing  state.  As  we  should 
esteem  that  man  a  presumptuous  fool,  A\h()  hoped  to  in- 
herit an  estate,  to  a\  hich  he  could  show  no  title  ;  so  it 
js  ecjually  foolish  to  hope  for  the  heavenly  inheritance, 
unless  ve  can  sup]:>ort  our  claim  to  it  by  the  grand 
charter  of  the  gospel,  But  v\e  cannot  prove  this,  either 
in  the  court  of  conscience  or  of  hea\en,  but  by  the  pu- 
rity of  our  hearts  and  lives.  No  one  can  rationally  sat- 
isfy himself,  that  he  is  an  lieir  of  God  and  joint  heir 


See.  XV.]  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  185 

with  Jesus  Christ  to  future  glory,  unless  he  can  pro^'e 
himself  a  child  of  God  ;  for  if  children^  then  heirs.  But 
he  cannot  prove  himself  a  child,  unless  he  exhibit  in 
his  temper  and  conduct  the  image  and  spirit  of  his  heav- 
enly Father,  or  the  peculiar  dispositions  which  become 
his  children  ;  that  is,  unless  he  manifest  a  spirit  of  filial 
love  and  reverence,  submission  and  imitation.  A  good 
hope,  then,  must  be  founded  on  satisfactory  evidence  of 
real  holiness,  and  must  awaken  earnest  and  unceasing 
endeavours  after  still  higher  measures  of  it. 

Again,  this  hope  coiistrains  the  soul  to  purify  itself 
frorn^  motives  of  pious  gratitude.  For  surely  if  I  ex- 
pect so  great  and  free  a  gift  as  eternal  life  from  a  Being, 
who  might  justly  have  doomed  me  to  eternal  death ; 
every  principle  of  ingenuity,  equity,  and  honour,  must 
engage  me  thankfully  to  devote  my  short  life  to  his  ser- 
vice !  Shall  I,  can  I  go  on  to  aifront  and  defy  him,  by 
whose  grace  I  hope  to  be  saved  ?  Can  I  expect  the  ac- 
complishment of  all  his  exceeding  great  and  precious 
promises  to  such  a  vile  worm  as  myself,  and  yet  contin- 
ue to  trample  upon  the  righteous  laws  and  infinite  ben- 
efits of  so  great  and  merciful  a  Sovereign  ?  Can  I  insult 
that  goodness,  from  which  I  expect  everlasting  blessed- 
ness'? Can  I  hope  to  live  and  reign  in  glory  with  my 
exalted  Redeemer,  who  was  crucified  on  earth,  that  I 
might  be  glorified  with  him  in  heaven  ?  Can  I  hope  for 
this,  and  yet  crucify  this  Redeemer  afresh,  by  indulg- 
ing those  sins,  which  nailed  him  to  tlie  cross  ?  Does  he 
demand  no  other  return  from  me  for  his  expensive  love, 
than  the  constant  study  and  practice  of  holiness,  which 
is  as  much  my  privilege,  as  my  duty ;  and  can  I  refuse 
him  so  small  a  requital ;  a  ser\'ice  so  easy,  so  proper, 
and  so  happy  for  myself?  Surely  they,  who  can  act  so 
base  a  part,  ha\-e  not  the  .generous  spirit  and  hope  of 


186  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  [Sbr.  XV.^ 

Christians,  but  are  lost  to  common  ingenuity.  Every 
true  friend  of  Christ  and  heir  of  his  sah-ation  is  con- 
strained by  his  redeeming  love,  and  by  that  affectionate 
hope  and  consequent  gratitude,  which  are  enkindled  bj 
it,  to  live,  not  to  himself,  but  to  him  who  died  for  liim, 
and  rose  again. 

I  might  add,  that  beside  the  moral  or  argumentative 
influence  of  Christian  hope,  in  the  respects  now  men- 
tioned, upon  the  character  of  its  subject,  it  has  likewise 
a  natural  efficacy  to  sanctify  the  heart  and  life.  For  it  is 
one  of  the  graces  of  that  Holy  Spirit,  and  of  that  heav- 
enly religion,  whose  whole  design  and  tendency  are  to 
purify  and  exalt  our  degenerate  nature.  Consequently^, 
the  hope  of  the  gospel  as  ^vell,  as  all  its  other  virtues,  is 
essentially  holy,  both  in  its  nature  and  effect,  and  there- 
fore must  gradual ly  root  out  the  remains  of  sin,  and 
carry  forward  the  opposite  interest  in  its  happy  posses- 
sor. Christian  hope  is  also  immediately  connected  with 
evangelical  faith,  both  as  it  directl}-  springs  from  it,  and 
bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  it ;  and  of  course  the 
same  pure  and  noble  fruits,  which  Scripture  and  expe- 
rience ascribe  to  the  latter,  may  with  equal  reason  be 
predicated  of  the  former. 

Our  subject  leads  us  to  reflect  on  the  excellency  of 
the  Christian  religion,  not  only  in  bringing  life  and 
immortality  to  light,  but  in  giving  such  a  rational  and 
sublime  view  of  future  happiness,  and  rendering  the 
hope  of  it  such  an  eminent  instrument  and  support  as 
well,  as  fruit  and  sojace  of  virtue.  Thus  the  very 
privileges  and  comforts  as  well,  as  requirements,  of  the 
gospel,  directly  tend  to  sanctify  our  hearts,  and  raise 
them  to  their  true  perfection  and  felicity.  How  worthy 
is  such  a  system  of  a  holy  and  bencAolent  Deity  !  How 
friendly  to  the  present  and  final  w  eliare  of  man ! 


Ser.  xv.3         on  christian  hope.  187 

Our  subject  presents  a  certain  criterion,  by  which  to 
try  our  hopes  of  heaven.  We  all,  I  suppose,  profess  to 
be  candidates  and  expectants  of  future  glory.  But 
what  are  the  grounds,  properties,  and  effects  of  our 
hope?  Is  it  built  upon,  and  productive  of,  inward  and 
practical  holiness  ?  Or  is  it  accompanied  with  security, 
sloth,  and  sinful  gratification  ?  If  the  latter,  our  hope 
and  our  pretended  religion,  are  mere  absurdity,  mock- 
ery, and  delusion.  For  is  it  not  repugnant  to  sober 
reason  to  hope  for  salvation,  when  our  very  hope  is  of 
such  a  nature  and  influence,  as  to  prove  us  heirs  of  de- 
struction ?  Can  that  hope  originate  from,  and  lead  you 
to  heaven,  which  has  nothing  heavenly  in  its  nature  and 
operation,  but  every  thing  the  reverse  ?  How  inexpres- 
sibly foolish  is  it,  to  expect  a  holy  happiness  without  a 
holy  disposition !  To  expect  to  be  finally  glorious  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Lord,  when  our  prevailing  character  is  un- 
like and  contrary  to  his  !  To  look  for  complete  and  end- 
less satisfaction  in  the  presence,  service,  and  enjoy- 
ment of  a  Being,  whom  we  habitually  dislike,  and 
whose  laws  of  fellowship  are  our  greatest  burden  and 
aversion  !  To  expect  to  find  our  eternal  happiness  and 
delight  in  those  spiritual  exercises  and  entertainments, 
which  are  entirely  opposite  to  our  present  determined 
pursuits  and  established  increasing  propensities  ! 

Is  it  not  equally  absurd  and  impious  to  hope  for  di- 
vine forgiveness  and  acceptance,  \\  ithout  a  heart-purify- 
ing faith  in,  and  vital  union  to,  Christ  ?  To  expect  to  be 
spared  by  that  patience,  which  we  continue  to  provoke, 
and  to  be  finally  embraced  by  that  mercy,  which  we  re- 
solve to  abuse  ?  To  propose  to  live  the  life  of  the  Avick- 
ed,  and  yet  die  the  death  of  the  righteous  ?  To  live  in  a 
worldly,  proud,  unchristian  manner,  and  then  die  like 
holy,  humble,  heavenly  Christians  ?  To  hope  for  victorv 
Ff 


188  ON  CHRISTIAN  HOPE.  tSEH.XV 

over  sin  and  temptation  by  lazy  wishes,  without  earnest 
struggles  ap^ainst  it  ?  And  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate, 
without  stri\  ing  and  agonizing  for  it !  How  absurd  to 
profess  a  belief  of  the  Bible,  and  yet  hope  for  happiness 
without,  \ea,  contrary  to  scriptural  grounds !  to  expect 
the  end  without  the  appointed  means  !  Yea,  in  the 
use  of  methods,  which  contradict  and  defeat  it !  Such 
hopes  as  these,  not  only  imply  the  mad  expectation  of 
absolute  impossibilities,  but  also  the  impious  presump- 
tion, that  God  will  prove  false  to  himself,  to  his  own 
essential  attributes  and  declared  constitution,  for  the 
sake  of  honouring,  and  saving  us  in  our  perverse 
and  rebellious  dispositions ! 

Let  those,  who  have  hitherto  cherished  such  infatu- 
ated, wicked,  and  ruinous  hopes,  be  entreated  immedi- 
ately to  abandon  them  ;  or  else  they,  and  their  delusive 
expectations  will  soon  perish  together  in  the  pit  of  de- 
struction ;  for  what  is  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite,  when 
God  shall  take  away  his  soul  I  But  if  we  possess  the 
pui'ifving  hope  above  described,  let  us  rejoice  in  it, 
bless  God  for  it,  walk  worthy  of  it,  hold  it  fast  unto  the 
end,  and  under  its  enlivening  influence  press  for'.vard  to 
Still  higher  degrees  of  Christian  purity,  confidence,  and 
joy.  Dearly  beloved,  having  such  precious  promises 
as  the  ground  and  object  of  our  elevated  hopes,  "  Let 
us  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  the  flesh  and 
spirit^  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fcar  of  God.'* 


Sermon  xvl 


The  Christian  Pattern. 

Phil.  ii.  5. 
Let  this  mind  be  in  you^  ivhich  %uas  also  in  Christ  Jesus. 

X  HE  Cliristian  religion luis this  unspeakable  advantage 
above  ail  other  systems,  that  it  holds  out  a  perfect  mod- 
el of  virtue  iiitlie  life  of  its  Founder;  a  model,  which 
fully  exemplifies  and  enforces  his  excellent  doctrines  and 
precepts;  which  exhibits  at  once  the  express  image  and 
glory  of  God,  and  a  safe  and  complete  directory  for  the 
conduct  of  man ;  and  agreeably,  one  main  object  of 
Christ's  appearing  in  our  nature,  and  living  in  our 
world,  was  to  mark  out  by  his  life  as  well,  as  by  his  in- 
structions,  the  path  to  immortality. 

The  apostle  in  the  text  and  following  verses  patheti- 
cally urges  upon  Christians  a  studious  imitation  of  this 
glorious  pattern,  particularly  in  the  amiable  virtues  of 
love  and  meekness,  of  humility  and  condescension. 
Accordingly,  I  shall  take  occasion  to  illustrate  and  en- 
force the  great  duty  of  copying  the  spirit  and  life  of  our 
blessed  Master. 

The  first  inquiry,  which  this  passage  suggests,  is,  in 
what  res|Xicts  is  Christ  an  example  to  his  followers  f 
The  answer  is.  He  is  our  pattern  in  those  things  only, 
\\  hich  are  common  to  him  and  us.  He  is  not  an  object 
of  imitation  in  those  things,  ^\■hich  were  peculiar  to 
him,  as  the  Son  of  God  and  Redeemer  of  the  world  j 
nor  did  he  exemplify  those  duties,  \yhich  result  from 


190  THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.       [Ser.  XVI. 

our  peculiar  situation,  as  sinful  and  redeemed  creatures  ; 
such  as  repentance  of  sin,  and  faith  in  the  divine  mercy 
through  a  Mediator.  But  Christ  is  our  exemplar  in  all 
those  right  dispositions  and  actions,  which  belong  to  hu- 
man nature  in  its  uncorrupted  state,  and  to  which  it  is 
gradually  recovered  by  gospel  faith  and  repentance. 
We  are  therefore  bound  to  imitate  him  in  all  those  mor- 
al excellencies,  which  he  exhibited,  as  a  subject  of  that 
law,  of  those  relations  and  circumstances,  which  were 
common  to  him  and  us.  In  these  particulars  he  is  a 
pattern  admirably  fitted  to  guide  and  encourage  our 
imitation.     For 

First,  He  possessed  the  same  nature,  and  w^as  placed 
in  the  same  condition  with  ourselves ;  and  his  example, 
therefore,  being  human,  exhibits  to  us  the  same  kind  of 
virtues,  practised  in  the  same  manner,  and  under  similar 
circumstances  of  difficulty  and  temptation,  as  belong  to 
ourselves ;  and  thus  naturally  affects  our  minds  with  a 
far  more  insinuating  and  engaging  force,  than  different 
instances  of  virtue  or  even  the  same,  in  a  different  nature. 
In  this  view  the  example  of  perfect  angels  or  even  of  the 
Deity  could  not  be  so  suitable,  so  complete,  or  so  en- 
couraging to  us  :  it  could  not  enforce  those  duties,  which 
are  proper  to  embodied  and  imperfect,  to  guilty  and  re- 
deemed creatures.  But  Christ  was  in  all  things  made 
like  unto  us,  sin  only  excepted ;  he  was  subject  to  tiie 
same  infirmities  and  passions,  to  the  same  troubles  and 
temptations  as  well,  as  to  the  same  general  tics  of  duty. 
His  example  also  takes  in  a  'uery  great  compass  of  virtue. 
It  is  so  wonderfully  ordered,  as  either  directly  to  exem- 
plify, or  strikingly  to  enforce  the  duties  of  almost  every 
station  and  relation  of  human  life.  Filial  piety  towards 
both  his  earthly  parents  and  his  heavenly  Father  shone  in 
his  early  and  private  life.      He  condescended  to  teach 


Ser.XVIO        the  christian  pattern.  191 

us  contentment  and  industry  in  our  various  secular  call- 
ings, however  mean  and  laborious,  by  following  the  me- 
chanical employment  of  his  reputed  father.  By  submit- 
ting to  a  poor,  dependent,  and  suffering  mode  of  life, 
and  ever  feeling  and  behaving  suitably  to  it,  he  has  ren- 
dered his  example  exceedingly  precious  and  useful  to 
the  bulk  of  mankind,  whom  Providence  places  in  a  low- 
ly or  trying  condition.  On  the  other  hand,  his  volun- 
tary debasement  of  himself  from  his  original  dignity  and 
riches  to  a  poor  and  servile  state,  affords  the  most  affect- 
ing lessons  of  humility,  condescension,  and  self  denial 
to  the  wealthy  and  honourable.  By  his  gentle,  dis- 
creet, yet  authoritative  government  of  his  own  family 
of  disciples,  b}^  carr}^ing  the  same  wisdom  and  authority 
into  all  his  public  ministrations,  and  thus  holding  bodi 
the  people  and  their  rulers  in  awe,  he  gave  instructi\e 
hints  of  the  true  spirit  and  model  of  government  in  do- 
mestic, civil,  and  sacred  departments.  Though  he 
could  not  literally  exemplify  the  conjiigal  and  parent- 
al duties,  because  he  never  sustained  these  relations ; 
jet  he  is  really  our  example  here  to  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, on  account  of  that  spiritual  relation  of  husband  and 
father  to  the  church,  ^vhich  he  fills  with  corresponding 
affections  and  acts.  In  a  ^\ord,  his  con^■crsation  was  so 
free,  so  open,  and  afiable ;  it  preserved  such  a  happy 
medium  between  affected  singularity  and  unlimited 
compliance,  between  rigorous  austerity  and  unbecom- 
ing levity,  as  rendered  it  at  once  very  endearing,  and 
admirably  fitted  for  general  imitation. 

The  notoriety  of  his  example  likewise  greatly  increas- 
es its  utility.  Not  only  were  the  leading  traits  of  his 
character  conspicuously  displayed  in  the  country  where 
he  lived ;  not  onl}  were  his  principal  actions  and  discour- 
ses performed  before  great  numbers  of  witnesses ;  but 


192  THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.     [Ser.  XVI. 

his  excellent  life  is  exhibited  to  all  future  ages  in  authen- 
tic and  inspired  narratives,  whose  artless,  open,  unaf- 
fected manner  admirably  resembles  the  beautiful  simpli- 
city  of  chai-acter,  which  distinguished  the  subject  of 
their  history. 

Finally,  The  absolute  perfection  of  Christ's  example 
forms  its  cron-ning  excellence.  His  whole  temper 
and  conduct  from  his  birth  to  his  death  were  pure 
from  the  least  moml  defect:  they  in  no  instance 
fell  short  of  the  utmost  demand  of  the  moral  Iavv% 
or  the  perfect  moral  rectitude  and  dignity  of  human  na- 
ture. Far  from  this,  the  excellency  of  his  obedience 
was  greatly  enhanced  by  his  trials  and  sufferings,  be- 
yond  that  which  the  primitive  state  of  man  could  ad- 
mit. While  his  unblameable  life,  his  entire  exemption 
from  guile,  both  in  heart,  conversation  and  behaviour, 
his  total  separation  from  sin  and  sinners,  instruct  us  to 
abstain  even  from  the  appearance  of  evil ;  his  careful 
fulfilment  of  all  righteousness  teaches  and  animates  us 
to  do  well,  to  perform  every  duty  to  God,  our  neigh- 
bour, and  ourselves,  in  the  most  exact,  engaged,  and 
exemplary  manner.  h\  short,  his  example  being  equal- 
ly perfect  with  the  divine  law,  becomes  a  safe,  easy,  and 
complete  rule  of  duty  to  his  followers ;  a  rule,  which 
warrants  and  demands  their  implicit  and  constant  regard. 

The  usefulness  of  such  a  jierfect  example  appears 
from  its  tendency  to  impress  mankind  \\'ith  the  reasona- 
bleness of  the  divine  law  in  all  its  requirements,  and  to 
guard  them  against  light  or  indulgent  thoughts  of  any 
deviations  from  it.  Had  no  example  appeared  in  our 
world  of  obedience  fully  equal  to  the  law  of  our  nature, 
men  would  too  readily  have  concluded  that  the  law  was 
originally  set  too  higli  for  such  a  creature  as  man;  they 
would  have  satisfied  themselves  with  aiming  at  less  thau 


Ser.  XVI.]         the  christian  pattern.  193 

perfection  ;  they  would  too  easily  have  indulged  many 
sins,  as  the  harmless  and  unavoidable  infirmities  of  hu- 
manity. But  the  example  of  Jesus  in  our  nature,  yield- 
ing? a  complete  obedience  to  this  law,  wipes  away  this  as- 
persion both  from  the  nature  of  man  and  the  law  of 
God,  by  practically  evincing  that  the  former  w  as  origin- 
ally capacitated  and  destined  for  perfect  virtue,  and  that 
the  latter  lies  exactly  level  with  this  unperverted  capaci- 
ty ;  and  of  course  that  every  transgression  of  this  rule  is 
without  excuse. 

This  benefit  of  Christ's  example  is  enhanced  by  the 
divinity  of  his  person.  "  Though  he  were  a  Son,  yet 
he  learned  obedience."  Though  he  was  originally 
in  the  form  of  God,  yet  by  condescending  to  assume  our 
nature  he  voluntarily  subjected  himself  to  its  duties,  and 
placed  his  greatest  glory  and  happiness  in  performing 
the  most  exact  obedience  to  the  will  of  God.  While 
his  human  nature  was  the  direct  and  principal  subject  of 
this  obedience,  it  derived  a  transcendent  value  and  dig- 
nity from  the  intimate  union  of  the  man  Jesus  with  the 
divinity.  At  the  saxne  time  his  stooping  from  his  orig- 
inal dignity  to  a  state  of  subjection  to  his  Father's  law, 
recommends  obedience  to  it  in  the  most  forcible  manner. 
In  this  way,  as  one  expresses  it,  "  God  has  glorified  a 
state  of  obedience  to  himself." 

We  may  add,  the  alacrity  and  serenity  which  our  Lord 
expressed  through  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  amid  so  ma- 
ny laborious  and  selfdenying  services,  greatly  recommend 
his  example  to  our  imitation,  by  showing  that  the  most 
strict,  and  even  suffering  virtue  is  consistent  with  self  en- 
joyment ;  yea,  is  a  rich  source  of  inward  happiness.  The 
consciousness  of  obeying  and  pleasing  his  Father,  the  as- 
surance and  enjoyment  of  his  constant  presence  and  sup- 
port, the  glorious  recompense  and  joy  set  before  him 
sweetened  all  the     toils   and    diflicuities    of    virtue, 


194  THE  CHRISTIAN"  PATTERN.     [Ser.  XVT. 

and  ni.\de  the  service  of  God  his  daily  meat  and  drink. 
Wh:it  an  alluring  charm  does  such  an  example  give  to 
a  life  of  self-denying  and  holy  obedience  ! 

Having  stated  in  what  respects  Christ  is  a  pattern  to 
ss,  and  pointed  out  the  eminent  fitness  and  utility  of  his 
example,  we  will  now  more  particularly  enforce  the  du- 
ty\and  importance  of  our  imitating  this  perfect  exemplar. 

1.  Our  obligation  to  this  results  from  one  important 
part  of  Christ's  errand  into  our  world.  While  the  first 
and  chief  object  of  his  mission  was  to  mediate  between 
God  and  man,  by.  making  atonement  to  the  one  for  the 
sins  of  the  other ;  it  was  a  collateral  and  essential  branch 
of  his  undertaking  to  provide  for  the  sanctification  of 
men  at  the  same  time,  and  through  the  same  means,  by 
which  he  procured  their  forgiveness.  The  same  spot- 
less obedience,  by  which  he  merited  and  secured  the  jus- 
tification of  penitent  believers,  is  the  great  pattern,  the 
effectual  incentive  and  security  of  their  i>ersonal  holiness. 
That  this  was  a  leading  object  of  his  life,  appears  from 
tlie  great  care  taken  to  record  his  actions  \\'ith  so  much 
pai'ticularity  by  the  pens  of  four  different  historians. 
This  design  is  also  frequently  and  directly  expressed  by 
the  sacred  writers.  Thus  St.  Paul  represents  the  con- 
fm-?mty  of  Cliristians  to  the  image  of  God's  So?i,  as 
comprising  all  those  blessings  of  grace  and  glory,  to 
which  infinite  mercy  has  predestinated  them.  As  God 
has  formed  the  human  nature  of  his  Son  to  be  a  fit  mod- 
el of  excellence  and  perfection  to  his  saints  ;  so  he  forms 
all  the  vessels  of  merc}',  all  the  heirs  of  glory  in  a  good 
degree  after  this  model;  that  by  thus  partaking  of 
Christ's  holiness  they  may  be  prepared  for  a  final  parti- 
cipation of  his  blessedness.  Does  not  this  infer  a  strong 
obligation  on  all  professed  Christians  to  co-operate  with 
God  and  his  Son  iu  this  noble  desl-^n  ;  and  of  coarse  to 


Ser.  XVI.]         THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.  195 

Jceep  the  perfect  character  of  Jesus  constantly  in  their 
eye,  and  to  study  the  nearest  possible  resemblance  to  it  ? 
How  vain  will  it  be  for  any  to  expect  the  benefits  of  his 
death,  who  have  no  conformity  to  his  life ;  since  both 
united  form  one  indivisible  plan  of  salvation,  and  since 
our  very  name  or  calling,  as  Christians,  is  resolved  into 
this  conformity  to  Christ,  as  our  head  ?  Agreeably,  St. 
Petier  in  the  verse  of  our  text  says,  "  Hereunto  are  ye 
called,  diat  ye  should  follow  his  steps  :"  and  our  Lord 
himself  tells  his  disciples  in  the  thirteenth  of  John,  "  I- 
ha-i  e  given  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  do,  as  I  have, 
done  to  you."     Which  brings  us  to  observe, 

Secondly,  That  imitation  of  Christ  is  often  explicitly 
enjoined  and  pressed  upon  his  professed  disciples. 
How  frequently  does  he  propose  following  him,  as  the 
great  condidoii  and  mark  of  discipleship  1  How  often 
does  he  recommend  particular  parts  as  well,  as  the 
whole  of  virtue,  as  fully  exemplified  in  himself  I  "  Take 
my  yoke  upon  you,"  that  yoke  which  I  have  first  borne 
myself,  previously  to  my  imposing  it  on  you ;  "  and 
leai^n  of  me,  fori  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."  He 
also  repeatedly  commands  them  to  love  one  another, 
even  as  he  loved  them.  Several  general  and  particular 
exhortations  to  the  same  purpose  occur  in  the  epistles.* 
Thus  the  same  divine  authority,  which  enjoins  universal 
holiness  upon  us,  prescribes  the  imitation  of  Jesus  as 
itself  a  constant  duty,  as  a  stated  and  necessary  part  of 
our  religion,  and  a  great  instrument  of  our  moral  perfec- 
tion. The  primary  gospel  duty,  which  enlivens  and 
rectifies  all  others,  is  a  designed  and  studious  conformi- 
ty to  Jesus  Christ  in  all  those  things,  which  constitute 

•  See   Rom.  xv.  5.     Phil.  ii.  5.     1  Pet.  iv.  1. 
C  8" 


196  THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.       [Ser.XVL 

the  moral  image  of  God  and  perfection  of  man.  While 
all  other  examples  are  proposed  to  our  imitation  in  a  re- 
strictive and  occasional  manner  only  ;  his  is  set  before 
us  as  our  ultimate  and  infallible  model,  \\l]ich  at  once 
limits  and  controls  all  other  patterns  and  rules,  and  chal- 
lenges our  supreme  and  constant  attention.  Agreeably, 
St.  Paul  exhorts  the  Corinthians  to  l;c  followers  of  him 
so  far  only,  as  he  A\as  of  Christ ;  and  after  he  has  pointed 
out  to  the  Hebre\vs  a  great  cloud  of  other  witnesses, 
directs  them  to  centre  their  views  on  Christ ;  "  looking," 
that  is,  princii)aily  and  continually  "  looking  to  Jesus, 
the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith." 

Thirdly.  The  relations  between  Christ  and  all  true 
Christians  bind  this  duty  upon  them".  He  is  their  Lord 
and  Master,  w  ho  has  both  completely  taught  and  ex- 
emplified their  duty,  and  in  this  respect  excelled  all 
other  masters  and  teachers'.  Does  not  this  oblige  us 
to  excel  all  other  disciples,  in  imitating  our  master  ? 
Are  the  pupils  of  other  doctors  zealous  to  follow  their 
peculiar  directions  and  manners,  however  whimsical  or 
even  culpable?  And  shall  not  we  be  much  more  engag- 
ed to  follow  the  perfect  doctrine  and  example  of  our 
divine  Instructer?  Is  he  also  our  best  friend  and  bene- 
factor ?  Does  he  call  and  treat  us  as  his  brethren,  his 
children,  the  members  of  his  body  ?  And  shall  not  we, 
bv  a  gratciiil  and  studious  resemblance  of  him,  adorn 
and  fill  these  endearing  and  honourable  relations  ?  Ought 
thee  not  to  be  a  beautiful  likeness,  symmetry,  and  cor- 
respondence between  the  head  and  members  of  the  same 
liodv?  How  unseemly  and  monstrous  would  it  be,  if 
hke  Nebuchadnezzar's  image,  while  the  head  is  of  pure 
gold,  some  of  the  members  should  be  no  better  than 
*■'  miry  clay!" 


SfiR.XVI.]        THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.  197 

Fourthly.  This  conformity  to  Jesus  is  the  natural 
tendency  and  result  of  all  Christian  graces,  and  of 
course  is  necessary  to  prove  their  sincerity.  Can  we 
heartily  believe  in  Christ,  or  realize  the  spiritual  beauty 
and  glory  of  his  character,  \vithout  being  changed  into 
;the  same  image,  without  springing  forward  v\  ith  holy 
.emulation  to  transcribe  his  excellent  qualities  ?  Can  we 
heartily  acquiesce  and  trust  in  his  mediatorial  righteous- 
ness, as  the  ground  of  our  justification,  without  seeing 
the  beauty  and  glory  of  this  righteousness,  as  magnify- 
ing and  honouring  Qod's  perfections  and  law,  and  being 
cordially  pleased,  and  conformed  to  it  ?  Can  we  truly 
rely  on  Christ  to  save  us  from  sin  and  its  threatened 
punishment,  without  joining  with  him  in  heartily  coiv 
demning  the  former,  and  justifying  the  latter?  Have 
we  a  believing  hope  of  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings  to 
be  dispensed  through  Christ  to  us,  in  conformity  to  tlie 
grace  and  glory,  which  are  in  him  ?  Will  not  this  hope 
engage  us  to  purify  ourselves,  even  as  he  is  pure  ;  that 
so  we  may  be  both  qualified  for,  and  entitled  to  the 
.expected  felicity  ?  Finally,  who  does  not  know  that 
love  has  an  assimilatinp;  influence  ?  And  \^  ill  it  not  have 
the  greater  energy  here,  as  the  lo\'e  of  Christ  to  us  led 
him  in  the  first  place  to  conform  himself  to  our  degrad- 
ed and  miserable  state,  that  he  might  conform  us  to  his 
own  glory  and  blessedness  ?  IVIust  not  grateful  affection 
jon  our  part  produce  corresponding  returns?  Must  it 
not  prompt  our  best  efforts  to  copy  so  bright  and  en^ 
dearing  a  pattern  ? 

Fifthly.  The  honour  of  our  religion  and  its  great 
Author  is  deeply  concerned  in  this  matter.  If  the  pro- 
fessors of  Christianity  practically  contradict  the  holy  ex- 
ample of  its  Founder^  they  essentially  injure  not  only 
themselves,  but  their  profession.     If  they  are  habitually 


THE  CHRISTIAN  PATTERN.      [Ser.  XVL 

proud,  revengeful,  covetous,  unjust,  intemperate,  or  un- 
godly ;  the  world  will  be  apt  to  view  their  religion  and 
Master  as  patronizing  or  fostering  these  vices.      If  \Vd 
have  the  generous  spirit  of  Christians,  we  canrtot  willingly 
contribute  to  such  vile  imputations  on  the  best  religion 
and  Master  in  the  v^orld.    On  the  contrar}%  ^^'e  shall  feel  a 
tender  and  earnest  solicitude,  that  the  excellent  spirit  and 
life  of  our  absent  Lord  may  still  shine  forth  to  the  ad- 
miration of  the  n  orld,  in  the  corresponding  temper  and 
practice  of  his  followers,  and  that  thus  the  honour  and 
influence  of  his  name  and  gospel  may  be  preserved  and 
extended  through  all  countries  and  generations.     As 
nothing  has  hindered    the    universal   propagation   of 
Christianity  so  much,  as  the  unchristian  spirit  and  man- 
ners of  those  individuals  and  public  bodies,  who  profess 
this  religion  ;  so  nothing  would  contribute  so  powerful- 
ly to  honour  the  gospel,  and  extend  its  triumph,  as  a 
striking  moral  resemblance  in  its  professors  to  the  ex- 
ample of  their  Head. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

i.  If  Christ  was  so  perfect  a  pattern  of  virtue,  his 
pretensions  to  a  divine  mission  must  have  been  founded 
in  truth.  For  it  is  highly  absurd  and  conti-adictqjy 
to  suppose,  that  a  person  of  so  excellent  a  character 
should  practise  the  most  impious  and  cruel  fraud  in  the 
name  of  the  God  of  truth  and  love,  or  that  a  series  of 
such  pure  and  noble  actions,  as  are  recorded  of  Jesus, 
should  proceed  from  a  vile  and  abandoned  impostor. 
Besides  our  Saviour's  extraordinary  pretensions  and  ac- 
tions are  supported  by  the  same  evidence  as  his  amiable 
moral  virtues :  to  profess  therefore,  as  many  deists  do, 
an  admiration  of  the  latter,  while  we  reject  the  former,  is 
either  very  weak  or  hypocritical. 


Ser.XVL]         the  christian  pattern,  199 

2.  Hence  the  main  scope  of  the  gospel  is  practical s 
for  it  is  intended  to  make  us  conformable  to  its 
Founder. 

3.  Hence  Christianity  unspeakably  excels  all  otlier 
religions ;  since  it  exhibits  a  personal,  visible,  and  com- 
plete representation  of  the  invisible  God,  and  a  perfect 
pattern  of  virtue  for  man.  ' 

4.  How  ought  this  to  recommend  to  our  studious 
attention  the  life  of  Jesus,  as  drawn  by  the  evangelists  1 
With  what  diligence  should  we  both  contemplate  and 
copy  its  excellencies !  How  carefully  should  we  exam- 
ine our  tempers  and  lives  by  this  standard]  We  are  t<^ 
judge  of  our  real  Christianity,  not  by  our  orthodox  no- 
tions, our  former  imaginary  conversion  or  experiences, 
or  our  transient  or  periodical  feelings,  but  by  our  steady 
practical  imitation  of  Jesus  ;  for  if  any  man  have  noi 
the  spirit  of  Chiist,  he  is  none  of  his. 


Sermon  xvii. 


Religious   Joy  explained  and   recom- 
mended. 


Philippians  iv.  4. 
Rejoice  in  the  Lord  aii\jay ;  and  again  I  say^  rejoice. 


T 


HAT  Christianity  is  Ji  friend  to  human  happiness, 
appears  from  numberless  circumstances;  particularly 
from  this,  that  good  men  are  so  frequently  invited  and 
commanded  to  rejoice^  to  exercise  and  cherish  one  of  the 
most  delightful  affections  of  the  soul.  We  must,  how- 
ever, rem(?mber,  that  the  joy,  which  the  Scriptures  en- 
join, is  of  a  peculiar  kind  ;  such  as  the  bulk  of  mankind 
neither  know,  desire,  nor  pursue.  It  is  a  joy  in  the 
Lord ;  it  has  God  for  its  object  and  source;  it  springs 
from  religious  principles,  exercises,  and  prospects  ;  it  is 
one  of  the  highest  privileges  as  well,  as  duties  of  real 
Christians,  as  it  equally  expresses  and  improves  both 
their  holiness  and  happiness. 

In  discoursing,  therefore,  on  the  pleasing  aiid  reiterat- 
ed precept  of  tlie  text,  I  will  endeavour, 

I.  To  explain,  and 

II.  To  recommend  and  enforce  it. 

In  the  first  place,  we  will  explain  the  nature  of  rejoic- 
in.y  in  the  Lord. 

Now,  in  general,  it  imports  a  cordial  acquiescence 
and  delight  in  the  divine  character,  government,  and 
benefits.     Holy  joy  is  primarily  founded  on  the  essential 


Ser.XVII].  religious  joy.  201 

beauty  and  glory  of  the  divine  nature  and  attributes ;  and 
implies  a  heaitfelt  satisfaction  and  triumph  in  contem- 
plating the  existence,  perfection,  and  dominion  of 
Jehovah. 

The  pious  man  rejoices  in  the  existence  of  such  a 
being  as  God-  While  he  hears  God  saying  in  his 
word  and  works,  "  I  am,  and  there  is  none  beside  me  ;'* 
his  heart  echoes  its  joyful  amen  :  "  Lord,  I  believe,  I 
see,  I  feel  that  thou  art,  and  I  exult  in  the  belief. 
Could  I  once  suppose,  with  some  modern  vain  philos- 
ophers, that  there  is  no  first,  self-existent,  all  perfect 
Being  at  the  head  of  the  universe,  what  a  scene  of  dark- 
ness, and  confusion,  and  wretchedness,  would  the  face 
of  the  world  exhibit !  All  the  charms  of  the  visible 
heavens  and  earth  would  at  once  fade  on  my  sight.  But 
I  see  and  feel  myself  surrounded  with  Deity.  I  see  and 
admire  God  in  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  in  every  ob- 
ject and  occurrence  around  me.  In  all  his  creatures 
and  works,  I  ha^  e  a  bright  and  transporting  view  of  his 
glorious  existence." 

The  pious  heart  is  also  unspeakably  delighted  with 
all  the  perfections  of  this  infinite  Being.  When  he  hears 
God  saying,  "  I  am  that  I  am,"  possessed  of  the  most 
sublime,  incommunicable,  eternal  perfection  and  bless- 
edness, his  heart  eagerly  replies,  "  Lord,  I  sincerely  re- 
joice in  that  fulness  of  glory  and  bliss,  which  resides  in 
thy  adorable  essence,  and  thus  in  some  degree  participate 
and  enjoy  thy  divine  felicity.  While  I  feel  a  benevo- 
lent and  joyful  interest  in  the  derived,  the  scanty  ex- 
cellence  and  happiness  of  my  fellow  creatures  ;  shall  I 
not  much  more  rejoice  in  my  Creator,  on  account  of 
his  uncaused,  his  transcendent  glory  and  blessedness  ? 
Shall  I  not  rejoice  in  the  idea,  that  supreme  wisdom  and 
power,  rectitude  and  goodness  are  continually  adminis- 


202  llELJGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XV|r, 

tering  the  affairs  of  the  universe  In  the  best  possible  man- 
ner, and  overruling  its  present  partial  evils  and  disor- 
jders  to  the  final  good  of  the  system  ai^d  glory  of  its 
Author?" 

Further,  the  true  friend  of  God  rejoices  in  all  the 
manlfcstat'ions  of  his  excellent  character  and  will.  The 
heart,  which  loves  and  delights  in  the  divine  perfections, 
will  desire  and  be  pleased  with  the  display,  and  the  re- 
flected glory  of  these  perfections.  Hence  the  good  man 
rejoices  in  the  word  of  God,  which  is  the  most  clear  and 
perfect  exhibition  of  his  nature,  counsels,  and  will.  He 
discerns  the  chaiacters  of  divinity  in  the  volume  of 
Scripture  as  well,  as  of  nature ;  in  the  sublime  doctrines, 
the  holy  precepts,  the  precious  promises,  and  majestic 
discoveries  of  the  former  as,  well,  as  in  the  admirable 
order  aiid  beauty,  magnificence  and  utility  of  the  latter. 
Ke  therefore  exclaims,  "  Oh,  how  I  lo\'e  thy  law  !  It 
is  my  meditation  day  and  night.  I  love  to  trace  thy 
footsteps  wherever  I  can  find  diem.  In  the  commands 
and  sanctions  of  thy  law,  I  see  a  bright  transcript  of  thy 
moral  excellencies,  and  a  perfect  rule  to  direct  me  how 
to  serve  and  honour  thee.  In  the  peculiar  truths  of  thy 
gospel  I  behold  a  still  more  complete  as  well,  as  more 
endearing  display,  of  thy  perfections  and  designs.  In 
these  I  see,  with  mingled  admiration  and  joy,  a  most 
wonderful  and  effectual  method  to  recover  thy  degener- 
ate offspring  to  thine  image  and  favour ;  I  rejoice  in  this 
scheme  of  salvation,  because  \\hile  it  brings  peace  and 
good  \y\\\  to  men,  it  proclaims  glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est. I  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus,  the  Gospel  Saviour,  be- 
cause he  is  the  express  image  of  the  invisible  God,  and 
the  perfect  refulgence  of  his  glory." 

On  the  same  principle,  the  pious  Christian  delights  in 
the  ordinances  and  duties  of  religion,  because  they  are 


See.  XVIL]  RELIGIOUS  JOY,  203 

the  medium,  by  w  hich  he  approaches,  honours,  and  en- 
joys his  heavenly  Fadier.  And  while  he  thus  rejoices 
in  the  present  imperfect  exercises  of  religion,  as  means 
of  diis  divine  communion  ;  he  is  equally  delighted  with 
the  hope  of  its  approaching  consummation  in  that  world, 
where  he  will  behold  and  love,  glorify  and  enjoy  the 
infinite  Jehovah  in  a  perfect  and  progressive  manner 
forever  and  ever. 

Thus  the  good  man's  joy  begins,  centers,  and  termi- 
nates in  God  himself ;  in  contemplating,  resembling,  and 
honouring  him,  and  receiving  corresponding  returns  of 
his  favour.  So  that  the  glory  of  God  and  the  happiness 
of  his  friends  are  harmoniously  and  indissolubly  united. 
The  saint  has  no  true  joy  separate  from  glorifying  God ', 
and  so  far  as  he  feels  a  temper  of  love  to,  and  satisfaction 
in  God,  he  is  necessarily  happy ;  and  this  happiness  at 
once  reflects  gloiy  upon  its  benevolent  author  and  ob- 
ject, and  furnishes  its  subject  with  new  incentives  and 
advantages  to  serve  and  praise  him. 

How  different  are  the  feelings  of  holy  Christians  from 
those  of  ungodly  or  hypocritical  characters  !  The  habit- 
ual, the  hardened  sinner,  far  from  being  pleased  with  the 
existence  and  character  of  the  Most  High,  dreads  and 
hates  the  idea  of  him,  because  his  nature  is  holy.  The 
pulse  and  wish  of  a  wicked  man's  heart  are,  therefore,  on 
the  side  of  atheism.  "  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart, 
there  is  no  God."  And  the  counterfeit,  deluded  pre- 
tender to  religion,  though  he  may  seem  to  overflow  with 
spiritual  joy,  yet  does  not  really  rejoice  i?i  God,  but  in 
himself.  He  rejoices,  not  in  the  infinite  majesty,  beau- 
ty, and  felicity  of  the  divine  nature  ;  but  in  his  own  fan- 
cied dignity  and  goodness,  his  own  imaginary  religious 
experiences  and  attainments,  privileges  and  prospects. 
Of  course  his  joy  begins  and  ends  in  himself;  it  is  the 
H  h 


204  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XVIT. 

spurious  offspring  of  pride,  self  love,  and  self  decep- 
tion. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  add,  though  true  joy  primarily 
fixes  on  God  himself,  it  does  not  exclude,  but  implies, 
the  consideration  of  his  benefits.  As  the  good  man  is 
supremely  delighted  with  the  essential  glories  of  Deity  ; 
so  he  consequentially  and  subordinately  rejoices  in  his 
own  interest  in  him,  in  the  evidence  of  his  special  and 
everlasting  favour.  With  what  unutterable  delight  does 
he  breathe  out  that  exulting  language,  "  This  God  is 
MY  God  foreiier  and  e^ucr.  His  unerring  wisdom  is  my 
unfailing  guide  ;  his  omnipotent  arm  is  my  constant 
shield  ;  his  infinite  goodness,  beauty,  and  love  are  my 
satisfying  and  everlasting  portion  !"  What  a  new,  addi- 
tional charm  must  this  appropriating  joy  in  God  as  our 
Friend  impart  to  all  the  streams  even  of  his  common 
bounty  1  How  unspeakably  estimable  and  sweet  is  the 
least  mercy,  when  we  can  view  it  as  the  gift  of  a  most 
excellent,  generous,  beloved  Patron  and  Father  ! 

How  essentially  does  the  pleasure,  which  the  pious  man 
takes  even  in  the  common  entertainments  of  life,  differ 
from  that  of  the  sensual  and  profane  !  The  sensitive  en- 
joyments of  the  one  are  refined  by  the  rational  and  sub- 
lime pleasures  of  thankful  dcAOtion,  Mhich  forms  the 
crowning  ingredient  of  his  pleasures ;  while  those  of  the 
other  are  merely  natural,  selfish,  and  brutaL  The  Chris- 
tian brings  to  the  entertainment,  that  inward  sweetness, 
contentment,  and  gladness  of  heart,  which  flow  from  the 
love  and  blessing  of  God,  and  which  give  a  rich  and  de- 
lightful flavour  to  the  meanest  enjoyment.  "  Go  thy 
way,"  says  Solomon,  "  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and 
drink  thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart ;  for  God  now  ac- 
cepteth  thy  work."  Since  God  accepteth  and  blesseth 
tlie  righteous  man,  no  wonder  tliat  joy  and  gladness. 


Ser.  XVII,]  KELIGIOUS  JOY.  205 

thanksgiving  and  the  voice  of  raelody,  are  found  in  his 
habitation ;  for  God  himself  is  there  as  a  constant  guest. 
But  since  the  secret  curse  of  God  is-  upon  the  wicked 
man,  and  all  that  he  has,  it  must  blast  every  enjoyment, 
and  either  immediatelj'-  or  ultimately  turn  it  into  gall, 
and  wormwood,  and  deatli. 

The  religious  joy  of  the  saint  is  also  an  effectual  reg- 
ulator of  his  inferior  delights.  While  he  cheerfully  par- 
ticipates in  the  innocent  pleasures  which  his  heavenly 
Parent  sets  before  him ;  he  endeavoui"s  to  enjoy  them 
like  a  man  and  a  Christian  ;  witli  a  cautious  moderation 
and  sobriety  ;  so  as  not  to  violate  or  lose  either  his  rea- 
son or  religion ;  *so  as  not  to  be  transported  into  idle  lev- 
ity, thoughtless  folly,  or  intemperate  excess  ;  so  as  not 
to  sacrifice  the  pure  and  sublime  joj-s  resulting  from  the 
favour  and  enjoyment  of  his  God,  to  these  perishing  de- 
lights. Then  we  act  in  cliaractcr  as  Christians  ;  then 
we  truly  rejoice  in  the  Lord  ;  when  we  sacredly  regard 
tills  rule,  to  rejoice  in  worldly  good  as  though  we  re- 
joiced not ;  to  use  the  world  as  not  abusing  it ;  and 
constantly  to  restrict  all  our  other  pleasures  by  a  su- 
preme regard  to,  and  delight  in,  our  Maker.  But  car- 
nal men  reverse  this  rule.  They  devote  themselves  to 
earthly  enjoyments  in  an  unbounded  degree  ;  they  cen- 
tre their  whole  happiness  in  them;  they  sacrifice  to 
them  their  reason  and  conscience,  their  present  virtue 
and  peace,  and  their  future  immortal  hopes, 

Fiuther,  The  joy  of  the  Christian  in  the  bounties  of 
Heaven  is  a  modest  and  humble  affection,  arising  from  a 
proper  sense  of  liis  dependence  on  God  for  them,  and 
his  sinful  unworthiness,  forfeiture,  and  abuse  of  them. 
Accordingly,  while  religious  joy  soars  as  high  as  heav- 
en in  adoring  gratitude  and  praise  for  the  condescending 
and  wonderful  goodness  of  God ;    it  sinks  as  low  as  the 


206  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.XVII. 

dust  in  penitent  humiliation  for  its  own  conscious  vile- 
ness  and  ill-desert.  But  the  joy  of  unsanctified  men,  on 
such  occasions,  is  a  proud  and  independent  feeling; 
which  swells  them  into  imaginary  deities,  and  leads  them 
to  ascribe  their  enjoyments  to  their  own  sagacity,  indus- 
try, or  merit. 

In  a  word,  true  joy  in  the  divine  benefits,  while  it  el- 
evates the  heart  to  the  infinite  Giver,  inspires  greater 
zeal  and  alacrity  in  his  service,  and  a  keener  relish  for 
the  enjoyment  of  him.  "  Can  I,"  says  the  good  man, 
*'  go  on  to  offend  that  God,  Mho  is  daily  feasting  me 
with  his  beneficence  ?  Shall  I  not  with  pious  gratitude 
ref^xct  back  on  their  great  Original  the  innumerable  cheer- 
ing beams  of  divine  goodness,  which  are  shining  upon 
me  ?  Shall  I  not,  by  ardent  love  and  vigorous  obedience, 
return  to  the  infinite  Fountain,  that  full  tide  of  joy, 
which  is  daily  flowing  into  my  heart?  Shall  I  not  testify 
my  cheerful  gratitude  to  my  divine  Benefactor  by  imi- 
tating his  diffusive  and  disinterested  goodness  ;  by  im- 
parting to  his  creatures  the  same  gladness,  which  he  is 
communicating  to  me  ;  by  improving  the  talents  and 
blessings  which  he  confers  upon  me  in  promoting  the 
happiness  of  his  rational  family  ?  If  the  little  rivulets  of 
pleasure,  Mhich  comfort  my  earthly  pilgrimage,  be  so 
delicious,  what  must  it  be  to  have  an  intimate,  perfect, 
and  everlasting  enjo}ment  of  their  uncreated  Source ! 
Let  my  taste  of  the  former,  then,  continually  increase 
my  relish  and  prej)aration  for  the  latter." 

Thus  we  see  that  religious  joy  is  not  a  mere  specula- 
tive sentiment,  or  rapturous  feeling  of  die  mind ;  much 
less  a  transient,  mechanical  flash  of  the  animal  affec- 
tions ;  but  such  a  steady,  delightful  union  of  the  heart 
to  the  divine  character,  as  engages  us  to  resemble  and 
honour  it  by  a  con^espondent  practice ;    and  such  pure 


Ser.  XVnO  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  207 

gratitude  for  divine  benefits,  as  greatly  improves  our  at- 
tachment to,  and  cooperation  with,  their  benevolent  au- 
thor ;  and  awakens  our  cheerful  activity  in  serving  God 
and  our  generation. 

I  must  add,  true  joy  in  the  Lord  is  a  constant  and 
perpetual  affection.  It  does  not  vary  \\  ith  outwai'd  cir- 
cumstances, but  subsists  the  same,  amid  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life.  Some  may  be  ready  to  ask,  Is  the  com- 
mand in  the  text  seasonable  and  binding  at  all  times, 
even  in  scenes  of  great  adversity  and  distress  ?  Is  it  suit- 
able, or  indeed  possible,  to  rejoice  in  such  circumstan- 
ces ?  Wx  instantly  reply  in  the  affirmative.  For  since 
the  great  object,  foundation,  and  materials  of  this  joy 
are  unchanging  and  everlasting;  and  since  the  soul, 
which  is  its  subject  or  recipient,  is  immortal  ;  the  exer- 
cise of  it  should  be  stable  and  permanent.  It  ought  not 
to  be  disturbed  by  the  greatest  external  changes. 
When  we  are  depri\'ed  of  other  sources  of  comfort,  still 
we  may  and  must  rejoice  in  the  Lord ;  for  the  fountain, 
\^'hich  feeds  this  joy,  never  ceases  to  flow.  Agreeably, 
Saint  Paul  charges  Christians  in  the  text,  and  else^vhere, 
to  rejoice  in  the  Lord  always  ;  to  rejoice  ei^ermore  ;  to 
give  thanks  always  for  all  things.  And  he  describes 
himself  and  his  fellow  professors  in  the  primitive  age  of 
Christianity,  amidst  all  their  uncommon  sufferings,  as 
sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing.  Though  tliis  may  sound 
like  a  strange  paradox  to  common  ears ;  yet  it  does  not 
in  the  least  grate  the  ears  of  Christian  believers ;  who 
are  taught  to  view  God,  his  government,  and  promises, 
as  unchangeably  -wise,  benevolent,  and  faithful. 

If  the  Christian  be  afflicted  in  his  body  by  sickness  or 
pain,  which  incapacitates  him  for  enjoying  the  world ; 
yet  his  soul,  being  in  a  healthful  state,  may  enjoy  both 
itself  and  its  God.     When  a  good  man,  indeed,  is  Ian- 


208  RELIGIOUS   JOt.  [Ser.  XVII. 

guishing  under  disease,  and  his  animal  and  mental  spir- 
its are  low  ;  he  cannot  ordinarily  exert  such  vigorous 
and  sensible  emotions,  even  of  spiritual  joy,  as  when  liis 
body  is  in  tune  for  assisting  and  joining  with  his  soul 
in  these  divine  exercises.  Much  less  can  this  be  ex- 
pected,  when  he  is  visited  widi  sharp  and  torturing  pains. 
But  if  in  such  a  situation  he  can  possess  a  calm,  though 
not  an  impassioned  joy ;  if  he  can  serenely  trust,  ac 
quiesce  and  delight  in  God  ;  this  must  be  o^vned  an 
invaluable  privilege,  and  a  mighty  support.  Now  this 
attainment  a  pious  man  may  and  ought  to  make.  When 
his  flesh  and  his  heart  fail  him  under  the  pressure  of  dis- 
ease, he  may  and  should  confide  and  rejoice  in  God,  as  the 
strength  of  his  heart  and  his  portion  forever.  When  he  feels 
his  earthly  tabernacle  tottering,  and  ready  to  drop  into  the 
dust ;  he  may  exult  in  the  prospect  of  a  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  When  his  body  can 
no  longer  be  the  subject  or  avenue  of  any  satisfliction, 
he  can  retire  inward,  and  feast  on  those  rational,  moral, 
and  divine  pleasures,  which  ai'C  peculiar  to  the  soul ;  and 
may  triumph  in  tlie  thought,  that  his  immortal  spirit 
will  soon  exchange  its  present  uncomfortable  prison  for 
a  more  free  and  congenial  habitation,  where  it  will  en- 
joy itself  and  its  proper  entertainments  in  an  uninter- 
rupted and  perfect  manner. 

If  the  Christian  be  oppressed  with  worldly  losses  and 
calamities,  he  may  still  say  with  the  prophet,  "  Although 
the  figtree  do  not  blossom,  and  there  be  no  fruit  in  the 
vine;'*  though  my  earthly  possessions  and  prospects 
fail ;  "  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord ;  I  will  joy  in  the 
God  of  my  salvation."  He  may  still  say  with  the  apos- 
tle ;  "I  have  nothing,  and  yet  possess  all  diings."  For 
having  God  for  my  treasure,  I  have  enough ;  I  have  all 
and  abound :  I  possess  an  inward  fund  of  riches  and  sat- 


See.  XVII.}  RELIGIOUS   JOY.  209 

isfaction,  which  has  no  dependence  on  the  world; 
which  does  not  ebb  and  flow  with  that  restless  and  tem- 
pestuous sea." 

We  may  rise  one  step  higher,  and  say,  that  the  true 
saint  may  and  ought  to  rejoice  in  God  even  in  the  midst 
of  spiritual  darkness  and  distress ;  in  the  midst  of  painful 
doubts  and  fears  respecting  his  own  interest  in  the  di- 
vine favour.  Though  he  cannot,  in  such  a  case^  rejoice 
in  God  as  his  assured  friend  -,  yet  his  mind  may  be  en- 
tertained with  affectionate  and  delightful  views  of  the 
perfect  rectitude,  glory,  and  blessedness  of  the  Deity, 
the  complete  fitness  and  beauty  of  his  whole  plan  both 
of  providence  and  grace,  and  the  excellent  issue  to 
which  all  his  proceedings  are  harmoniously  tending. 
When  a  person  of  a  sanctified  taste  thus  contemplates 
with  suitable  affections,  the  beauty  of  divine  objects,  he 
has  a  direct  and  noble  enjoyment  of  them.  If  he  dares 
not  claim  a  special  interest  in  them,  he  still  relishes  and 
rejoices  in  their  intrinsic  excellence.  If  his  heavenly 
Father  still  seems  to  frown  upon  him,  and  withholds 
from  him  the  sensible  tokens  of  his  love ;  yet  he  still 
cleaves  to  him  with  filial  attachment;  he  resolutely 
maintains  a  spirit  of  dutiful  submission  to,  of  trust  and 
delight  in,  the  divine  character  and  government ;  and 
is  far  more  concerned  to  honour  God  by  a  proper  beha-- 
viourin,  and  improvement  of,  his  present  affliction,  than 
merely  to  obtain  light  and  comfort  for  himself.  A  per- 
son, who  habitually  possesses  these  exalted  views  and 
feelings,  must  derive  from  them  perpetual  tranquillity 
and  cheerfulness,  even  in  the  darkest  hours  of  distress. 
May  almighty  grace  inspire  us  all  with  this  temper  and 
this  blessedness. 


@)ermon  xviii. 


Religious   Joy  explained  and  recom- 
mended. 

Philippians  IV.  4. 
Rejoice  i?i  the  Lord  a/way  ;  and  again  I  say,  rejoice. 


AVING  largely  explained  the  nature  of  religious 
joy,  it  remains,  agreeably  to  our  plan,  that  we  now 
recommend  and  enforce  the  practice  of  it. 

When  the  apostle  repeatedly  exhorts  good  men  to 
rejoice  in  God,  he  evidently  implies  that  spiritual  joy  is 
one  of  their  greatest  privileges  and  duties.  In  both 
^these  lights  I  will  endeavour  to  recommend  it  to  your 
earnest  cultivation  and  pursuit. 

First.  It  is  one  of  the  Christian's  noblest  prerogatives 
and  blessings.  For  the  object  of  this  joy  is  the  most 
excellent  in  the  universe  :  for  who  or  Vv^hat  in  the  heav- 
ens or  earth  is  to  be  compared  to  the  Lord?  When  we 
offer  to  make  a  comparison  between  God  and  other  be- 
ings, there  is  nothing  Vv-hich  appeal's  great  or  estimable, 
but  all  things  seem  equally  little,  none  of  them  bearing 
tlie  smallest  conceivable  proportion  to  tlie  infinite  Being  : 
so  that  the  \vhole  universe  in  this  view  appears  less  than 
nothing  and  vanity.  This  incomprehensibly  great  and 
glorious  Being  is  the  object  of  the  Christian's  joy  :  and 
must  not  that  joy,  which  terminates  on  such  an  object, 
be  preferable  to  any  other?  Must  not  our  joy  vary  with 
its  object;  be  low  or  high,  mean  or  excellent,  in  propor- 


SEti.  XVIII.]  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  2ll 

tioa  to  it  ?  Consequently,  where  the  object  is  of  infinite 
worth,  must  not  the  j 03^  have  a  kind  of  infinity  in  it;  a 
vakie,  a  grandeur,  a  subhmity,  which  is  unspeakable  ? 
must  diot  that  joy,  which  embraces  and  exults  in  such  a 
pure,  immutable,  allsufficient,  inexhaustible  source  of 
excellence  and  good,  partake  in  some  measure  of,  or  at 
least  correspond  with,  the  divine  properties  of  its  object, 
and  so  be  a  pure,  permanent,  satisfying,  overflow  ing 
spring  of  delight  ? 

Especially  when  we  consider,  that  the  seat  of  this  jov 
is  the  noblest  in  its  kind  as  well,  as  the  object :  for  it 
dwells  in  the  highest  and  purest  region  of  the  soul. 
The  soul  is  superior  to  the  ^\hole  world.  As  much  su- 
perior is  the  soul  to  itself,  when  it  rejoices  in  the  Lord, 
beyond  what  it  is  when  it  rejoices  in  earthly  good.  Its 
subliinest  faculties,  raised  and  refined  by  the  grace  of 
God,  and  acting  in  the  most  perfect  manner,  are  requi- 
site, to  apprehend  and  enjoy  this  most  transcendent  Ob- 
ject. The  soul  lets  itself  down,  and  contracts  its 
thoughts  and  designs  in  con^^ersing  with  other  objects  ; 
but  here  it  sw^ells,  and  dilates  all  its  powers  and  passions. 
In  most  other  joys,  it  stoops  beneath  itself;  here  it 
rises  above  itself,  above  its  natural  pitch.  The  Spirit 
of  God  opens  the  eyes  of  the  understanding,  sheds  a 
supernatural  light  upon  it,  awakens  its  latent  powers,  and 
endues  it  with  new  activity.  The  abode  of  this  sacred 
joy  is  not  like  this  inferior  region,  where  the  atmosphere 
is  thick,  frequently  void  of  light,  and  engenders  storms 
and  tempests,  and  a  variety  of  diseases  ;  but  like  the 
superior  part  of  the  heavens,  \\  here  there  is  perpetual 
day,  and  undisturbed  calm,  and  the  etherial  fluid  is  un- 
mixed and  unpolluted.  Such  is  the  scat  of  this  holy 
joy  compared  with  that  where  sensual  appetites  and  jo\s 
are  placed. 

i  i 


212  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XVIII. 

Let  me  add,  that  the  effects  of  this  joy  are  most  ex- 
tensive, beneficial,  and  lasting.  "  The  joy  of  the  Lord 
is  our  strength."  It  fortifies  the  soul,  and  inspires  a 
vigour  and  courage  unknown  to  others,  which  make  it 
victorious  over  all  the  power  of  the  enemy.  It  is  ex- 
ceedingly perfective  of  our  nature  ;  begets  high  aims, 
generous  sentiments  and  dispositions,  holy  desires  and 
aspirations.  Nothing  can  impro\e  the  mind  like  this 
divine  joy  ;  like  the  contemplation  of  God  and  delight- 
ing in  him.  It  brings  the  soul  nearer  to  God,  both  in 
holiness  and  happiness.  This  joy  is  not  confined  to 
place  or  time.  God  being  every  where,  we  can  every 
where  rejoice  in  him.  Being  the  disposer  of  our  con- 
dition, whatever  it  be,  we  can,  in  every  condition,  re- 
joice in  him.  Whatever  else  we  are  doing,  if  it  be  not 
displeasing  to  God,  we  may  still  rejoice  in  him.  This 
joy  is  never  unseasonable,  never  out  of  place;  and 
(which  crowns  all)  never  decays.  The  im.pression  is 
not  fleeting  and  transient,  as  in  other  joys  ;  but  durable 
like  the  soul,  and  everlasting  as  the  foundation  on  ^vhich 
it  rests.  All  v/hich  shews  the  greatness  and  excellence 
of  this  privilege  and  felicity. 

Secondly.  It  is  a  privilege  peculiar  to  real  saints ;  thej- 
only  are  qualified  for,  and  entitled  to  diis  joy.  No 
othei-s  have  the  recjuisite  qualifications  ;  which  are,  like- 
ness and  love  to  the  Object.  A  likeness  of  temper  and 
manners  is  the  main  foundation  and  cement  of  human 
friendships ;  which  are  seldom  carried  to  any  height, 
and  still  seldomer  prove  lasting,  \\  here  the  parties  do  not 
agree  in  their  reigning  inclinations.  The  same  is  stiJl 
more  necessary  in  this  divine  friendship  bet\\een  God 
and  the  soul :  for  the  soul  is  utterly  incapable  of  de- 
liditin<r  in  God,  and  God  in  the  soul,  till  his  image  is 
drawn  anew  upoii  it,  and  they  both  relish  and  delight. 


Ser.  XVIII.]  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  213 

ill  the  same  things.  Then,  and  not  before,  they  will 
delight  in  each  other.  Now  since  diis  is  true  of  none 
but  renewed,  sanctified  persons,  the  privilege  of  rejoic- 
ing in  God  is  necessai'ily  limited  to  them  ;  and  so  much 
the  more  as  likeness  is  ever  joined  with  love.  Can  we 
rejoice  in  God,  while  we  do  not  Io\e  him?  Or  can 
^ve  love  him,  while  we  are  prevailingly  unlike  and  con- 
trary to  him ?  What  enjoyment  can  there  be  without 
iove  ?  What  love  without  mutual  resemblance  ? 

It  is  a  contradiction  that  beings  should  at  the 
same  time  hate  and  delight  in  one  another.  But  this  is 
the  state  of  all  natural  men.  There  is  a  mutual  hatred 
between  God  and  them  ;  they  hate  God,  as  a  holy,  just, 
sin  rc\^enging  Govenor  and  Judge  ;  and  he  abhors  them 
as  unholy,  wicked  creatures  :  and  the  enmity,  being  mu- 
tual, must  be  an  everlasting  bar  to  mutual  joy.  But 
every  renewed,  pious  soul  loves  God,  is  a  hearty  friend 
to  his  character  and  interest;  and  hereby  becomes,  as  it 
were,  one  with  him,  and  thus  rejoicesin  his  perfection,  glo- 
ry and  blessedness,  as  if  they  were  its  own.  It  longs  to 
unite  with  God  perfectly,  to  glorify  and  enjoy  him  in  the 
highest  possible  degree :  and  by  these  holy,  loving  desires 
after  perfect  enjoyment,  it  enjoys  him  even  now  in  part; 
for  these  aspirations  of  divine  love  and  joy  are  an  earn- 
est and  prelibation  of  perfect,  beatific  fruition  in  glory. 

And,  as  this  spiritual  joy  must  be  peculiar  to  the  up- 
right, because  they  alone  are  capable  of  it,  being  the  on- 
ly persons  qualified  for  it,  so  they  only  have  a  tide  to  it. 
For  the  same  holy  dispositions,  which  constitute  our  qual- 
ifications for  diis  privilege,  are  required  by  God  as  con- 
ditions of  our  right  to  it.  And  with  very  good  reason ; 
for  certainly  it  would  not  become  the  Divine  Wisdom  to 
give  a  man  a  title  to  a  thing,  for  which  he  was  not  prepar- 
ed, were  it  for  no  other  reason  than  this,  that  a  right  in 


214  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XVIlt 

this  case,  though  to  the  greatest  treasure  in  the  universe, 
could  be  of  no  advantage,  any  more  than  the  gift  of  light 
to  the  blind. 

In  short,  none  are  entitled  by  di\'ine  constitution  to  the 
privilege  of  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  but  those  \\ho  have 
an  interest  in  Christ.  If  we  Christians  "joy  in  God," 
it  is  "  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  by  whom  we 
have  receixed  the  atonement.  Christ  has  made  atone- 
ment for  the  sins  of  mankind ;  but  all  have  not  received 
the  atonement,  have  not  complied  with  the  true  spirit 
and  design  of  it,  and  with  the  appointed  conditions  of  an 
interest  in  it;  consequently,  all  such  persons  are  as 
much  in  a  state  of  guilt  and  condemnation,  as  if  no 
atonement  had  been  made  and  offered,  and  therefore 
have  no  right  to  joy  in  God  through  Christ.  Here  the 
mighty  difference  betw-een  the  happy  few  and  the  v/retchcd 
multitude  takes  its  rise.  But  few  are  cordial  friends  to  a 
crucified,  atoning  Saviour  ;  but  few  have  that  humble, 
penitent,  affectionate  f:iith  in  him,  vrhich  is  connected 
■with  a  saving  union  to  his  person,  and  title  to  his  benefits. 
But  few  therefore  are  in  a  pardoned,  justified  state,  and 
so  have  a  right  to  call  God  t/icir  God  and  portion,  and 
to  gbry  and  triumph  in  him  as  such.  The  greater  num- 
ber even  of  nominal  Cir/istians,  being  (as  it  is  to  be  fear-, 
ed)  "  without  Christ,"  of  course  neither  have  aright  to, 
nor  a  moral  capacit)^  for,  rejoicing  in  the  Lord. 

Having  seen  that  it  is  the  privilege  of  good  men  to  re- 
joice in  God,  it  remains  that  we  shew, 

Thirdlv,  That  it  is  also  their  duty  thus  to  rejoice. 
That  jov,  which  religion  confers,  as  a  privilege  and  felici- 
ty, it  commands  us  to  accept,  to  cherish,  and  improve. 
It  requires  the  daily  exercise  of  holy  joy,  as  a  necessary 
proof  of  our  sincerity  ;  since  v.  ithout  this  our  religion 
mw^X  be  essentially  deficient,  both  in  principle  and 
practice. 


See,  XVIII.]  RELIGIOUS   JOY.  215 

First,  in  principle  ;  for  did  uiith,  or  hope,  or  love  rule 
the  heart,  they  could  not  tail  to  produce  pleasure  and 
joy  in  the  service  of  God.  We  naturally  delight  in  con- 
templating, pleasing,  imitating,  and  honouring  a  friend 
u  horn  we  love.  If  then  we  feel  no  habitual  joy  in  God, 
it  argues  the  w^ant  of  love  to  him.  So  that  if  we  exclude 
joy  in  God  from  our  religion,  w'e  shut  out  love,  and 
have  no  motives  to  it  but  fear  and  self-interest,  which 
are  low  and  unsuitable  principles,  on  which  to  serve  and 
obey  such  a  Being  as  the  infinite  Jehovah?  a  Being, 
who  deserves  and  demands  our  hearts,  yea,  our  wliolc 
heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength. 

Secondly,  m  practice:  for  neither  life,  zeal,  nor  perse- 
verance in  duty  are  to  be  expected  from  him,  whose 
heart  js  a  stranger  to  delight  in  God  and  his  w-ays.  He 
applies  himself  to  religion  as  a  task.  He  dreads  the 
taskmaster,  but  will  labour  no  more  than  necessity  re- 
quires. Such  a  religion  as  this  is  essentially  dift'erent 
from  the  homage  of  him,  w  ho  worships  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth. 

Estimate  then  the  genuineness  of  your  religion,  both 
in  principle  and  practice,  by  the  satisfaction  and  joy 
which  you  find  in  God  and  his  service.  Be  assured, 
that  where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  highest  joy 
be.  As  the  worldly  man  rejoices  in  his  earthly  pos- 
sessions, the  voluptuous  man  in  his  sensual  pleasures, 
and  the  social  in  his  friends  and  companions ;  so  the 
truly  good  man  rejoices  in  his  God,  in  the  di- 
vine perfections,  government,  precepts,  and  promises. 
This  is  M'hat  he  owes  both  to  God  and  religion,  to  him- 
self, and  to  others. 

Hence  in  order  to  reach  this  attainment  or  practise 
this  duty  in  the  happiest  manner,  he  ought  to  take  every 
step,  which  may  tend  to  beget,  maintain,  and  increase 


216  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  Ser.  XVIII.j 

this  holy  joy,   or  to  put  his  mind  into  a  right  frame  for 
the  exercise  of  it.     As, 

First,  He  ought  to  make  his  calling  and  election  sure  ; 
and  by  impartial  seif-inqairy  come  to  a  decision  of  the 
great  question,  whose  servant  or  child  he  is.  For  if  he 
is  the  true  child  and  ser\  ant  of  God,  nothing  is  necessa- 
ry to  his  rejoicing  in  him,  but  his  knowing  it.  If  I 
know  that  God  is  my  father,  and  that  I  serve  him  as  a 
son  serveth  his  father,  from  a  pure,  filial  aifection  to 
him,  as  the  principle  of  my  obedience,  and  in  hope  of 
his  paternal  acceptance  and  favour,  as  the  utmost  re- 
ward of  it ;  it  is  impossible  but  that  I  should  esteem  this 
a  reasonable  ground  of  joy  in  God,  and  as  such  derive 
high  satisfaction  from  it.  It  is  therefore  my  duty  to  en- 
deavour to  know  this,  and  not  remain  uncertain  in  a  con- 
cern of  such  iniinite  moment,  ^hen  I  may  with  due 
care  and  pains  arri\e  at  satisfaction  in  it. 

*'  No  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  but  the  spirit 
of  a  man  which  is  in  him  ;"  which  implies  that  the  spir- 
it of  a  man  may  know  its  own  things,  if  it  apply  itself 
diligently  to  know  them.  And  what  are  those  things  of 
SL  man,  \\  hich  the  spirit  ^vithin  him  may  come  to  under- 
stand ?  What  but  the  things  \vhicli  most  ncarlv  concern 
him,  the  things  of  his  pc;ace,  the  things  M'hich  accom- 
pany salvation  P  And  how  shall  his  spirit  know  these 
things,  but  by  descending  into  itself,  and  comnum- 
irjg  with  itself ;  examining  wiiat  is  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  its  love  and  hatred  ;  which  way  it  most 
strongly  inclines ;  >vhat  it  sets  up  as  its  supreme 
good,  and  by  what,  in  case  of  competition,  he  would 
alnde,  so  as  to  part  with  all  other  things  to  secure  it  ? 
Can  I  sa}',  that  God  is  my  center  and  my  end  ;  the  end 
of  all  my  actions,  and  the  center  of  my  rest?  If  so,  I 
have  reason  to  conclude,  and  rejoice  in  my  sincerity,  and 


Ser.  XVIII.3  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  -217 

to  rejoice  in  God,  as  approving  and  accepting  me  !  This 
then  is  the  first  duty  of  Christians  in  this  affair,  to  en- 
deavour to  be  satisfied  of  their  right  to  rejoice  in  God, 
in  order  to  their  being  about  actually  to  do  it. 

Secondly.  It  is  their  duty  to  remove  out  of  the  way 
Avhatever  they  have  found,  or  have  reason  to  think,  is  a, 
hinderance  to  this  holy  joy ;  particularly,  a  multitude  of 
worldly  cares,  and  a  too  free  indulgence  of  Vvorldly  joys. 

Worldly  cares,  when  they  run  high  and  grow  numer- 
ous, prey  upon  the  very  life  and  strength  of  the  soul : 
its  force  is  spent  upon  them,  so  that  it  has  no  spirit  left 
for  the  exercises  of  devotion  ;  and  when  duties  are  spirit- 
less, no  wonder  they  are  joyless  too.  Good  men  are  of- 
ten Aery  fault}^  in  this  matter  :  they  care  for  the  things 
of  the  world  more  than  they  need  or  ought  :  they  have  too 
many  cares,  or  they  sink  too  deep  into  their  hearts. 
Such  persons  should  not  wonder  that  they  receive  no 
more  satisfaction  from  meditating  on  divine  objects, 
which  in  themselves  are  adapted  to  give  the  most  exquis- 
ite delight.  They  must  discharge  the  train  of  cumberous 
cares,  which  now  absorb  their  minds,  before  the  joy  of 
the  Lord  will  enter  and  possess  them. 

They  must  also  beware  of  a  too  free  indulgence  of 
worldly  and  sensitive Jqy^-,  even  those  which  are  in  them- 
selves innocent :  for  this  is  not  the  only  thing  to  be 
considered  by  the  Christian ;  namely,  the  bare  lawful- 
ness of  any  pleasure  or  satisfaction,  abstractedly  taken  : 
but  do  I  give  myself  up  to  it  ?  If  not  wholly,  yet  to  a 
much  greater  degree  than  I  should  ?  By  these  means  it 
gets  the  mastery  of  my  soul ;  takes  up  the  room  which 
ought  to  be  filled  with  better  entertainments,  sensualizes 
and  debases  my  taste,  and  therel:)y  indisposes  me  for  the 
fruition  of  diose  purer  joys,  which  religion  bestows  on 
all,  who  truly  desire  and  seek  them.     It  is  very  true  that 


iJ18  Ul'.l.KllOUS   JOV.  fSi.u.  WItf 

DthiT  i<>y;s  N\li>'ii  of  :i  !a\\|'iil  iialuic,  aiul  lawliilh  iisid, 
i.  c.  willi  in;)iliTatl(vi,  arc  siil)si'i\  iciil  (o  hIIimou,  ami 
j)ron»olc  our  joy  in  (lod.  Hn!  ii  is  I'ar  oiIk  rwi  ,c,  wlicn 
wc  make  plcasurr  (it  ;m\  kiiul  not  so  iniicli  (uir  (Unci  . 
sitMi,  as  our  husliuss;  whviidur  pas.si()n^.  aic  \\aiinl\' 
eni^a}?;v'il  l)\'  it,  aiul  we  art-  no  loiifc  r  ras\  tliau  wli'ilc  oiii- 
ciri'unjstnnec!)  cnaliK*  us  to  commaiul  llu'  rciunis  ol"  it. 
Ki  lik.';ious  joy  has  i\  hap^N  nitlumcr  (»n  om  coininon  joN  s, 
to  f^'uiilc  and  ino(l("Vati' tlicm  :  ami  ulun  ii  lias  not  this 
cfl'ont,  l);it  lhron|';li  our  o\\  n  ni'|dl'!,e'n(U',  oi-  [\\c  j;;-t'al  i'nyvc 
ortoinpttition  to  sc-ns\i:\l  plcasinc,  the  iicarl  Ifls  itstH'oiil. 
to  lliosc  low  (UTi'vlits,  such  iUslilv  pleasures  have  a  sad 
innu(Mircon  our  reli;';ii)us  joys,  so  that  the  stream  .ihates 
in  fills  channel  in  tlu-  same  iJioporlion,  as  it  swells  in 
till-  olhca-;  lor  i(  cannot  at  the  ^.anl(•  time  lise  to  any 
j;reat  lu'isdit  in  holh. 

ThlrdU.  Il  i'.  tlu-  dntv  oi'  ('hiislians  t(»  .s7/V  ///>  ///('ir 
.V(»///.v  to  icjoiee  in  llu'  Lord.  'I'lu v  ait-  not  to  allow 
lh(-ni',tl\t  s  in  a  heartless,  uielaneholy  IVamc-  :  tiny 
Muist  not  }<;l\e  \\a\  lo  it,  as  if  il  \\(-re  a  tt'miur  of  mind 
aeeeptaMe  to  Covl  and  ei(dit:il»L-  to  u  Tis^'ion ;  hnt  must 
e\ulea\onf  to  ehid>'  lluni  rUcs  (Mil  ol  it,  i-\postiiIatiii'!j 
A\ilh  lluir  own  souls,  as  the  psalmist  <lo(  s  with  his. 
*' \\  h\'  art  thoii  east  down,  ()  m^  soul,  and  why  ait 
thou  ilis(|niel(  <!  widun  me  '  liopi-  ihoii  in  (i(ul,  for  I 
shall  \  et  praiM'  him,  who  ]•,  die  lualthol  m\  e»iunte- 
uanee  and  ni\  (lod."  'I'Iu-n  oii;;ht  to  arise  and  exert 
alltlu-ir  \i.';-oiir  in  eoml>alinj.;- and  expelliu};' these  j'loomy, 
uielanehoh  idras  and  passions,  which  are  siieh  I'liemii-s 
lo  iht-  peace  ol"  tlu  ir  soul  .,  and  the  plt-a>.iiri-  and  eu-dit 
ol"  their  rili[;ion.  1 1  llu  \  will  not  seek  eomrort  with 
dili«.;-enei-  in  (lOiPs  \\a;.  ,  how  tan  they  expect  to  lind  il  ? 
Do  the)  think  that  dod  will,  l>y  an  extraordinary  op- 
eration of  his  Sp'iiit,  eieat(.'  a  hil'dil   and    piacelul   ilay 


ser.  xviil]  religious  joy.  219 

within  them,  while  they  do  all  they  can  to  hinder  its 
admission  ?  Are  they  not  in  this  case  guilty  at  once  of 
inexcuseable  sloth  and  presumption,  and  justly  punished 
with  a  denial  of  that  joy,  which  they  do  not  labour  to 
obtain  ? 

Fourthly.  They  must  make  this  a  frequent  petition  in 
their  addresses  to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  God  would" 
give  them  the  joy  of  his  salvation,  and  uphold  them  with 
his  free  Spirit :  that  he,  who  is  the  Father  of  liglits, 
would  dart  some  beams  of  heavenly  light  into  their  souls, 
that  they  may  not  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of 
death,  but  walk  and  rejoice  in  the  light  of  life  :  that  he, 
\vho  is  the  fountain  of  comfort  and  blessedness,  would 
speak  peace  to  their  troubled  thoughts,  would  calm  their 
tumultuous  passions,  and  enable  them  to  act  all  the  graces, 
perform  all  the  duties,  and  enjoy  all  the  entertainments  of 
the  divine  life,  with  high  relish  and  delight.  "  Thou  hast 
made  it  my  duty,  O  my  God,  to  rejoice  in  thee.  And  since 
thou  hast  made  it  my  duty,  I  believe  thou  art  ready  to  give 
me  grace  to  perform  it.  I  therefore  apply  to  thee  for 
light  to  guide  me  continually  in  that  course,  which  will 
bring  me  this  inward  joy." 

These  are  some  of  the  steps,  which  Christians  may 
and  should  take,  in  order  to  be  in  the  best  preparation 
and  disposition  of  mind  for  rejoicing  in  the  Lord. 
And  that  all  this  is  their  incumbent  duty,  is  evident, 
not  only  from  the  text  and  similar  precepts,  but  from 
such  considerations  as  these  : 

First.  The  credit  of  religion  obliges  them  to  it. 
What  w  ill  the  enemies  of  God  and  religion  say,  when 
they  see  the  most  conscientious  friends  to  both,  appear- 
ing from  day  to  day  with  a  visible  sadness  and  gloom  on 
their  countenances  and  deportmenc,  as  if  they  had  no 
eujovment  of  themseh'es  \  but  were  -Kome  of  the  most 
K  k 


2^0  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XVIII. 

forlorn  and  wretched  of  mortals  ?  Will  they  not  be  apt 
to   say,  surely  the  yoke  of  Christ  is  not  what  he  has 
represented  it,  an  easy  yoke,  and  his  burden  light :  no  ; 
his  service  must  be  a  wearisome,  or  at  best  an  insipid 
thing.     And  not  only  the  professed  enemies  of  religion 
will  be  tempted  to  talk  in  this  strain,  but  others  too,  who 
might  have  embraced  a  life  of  virtue  and  piety,   had  it 
not  been  held  up  to  them  in  so  frightful  a  dress  by  the 
notions  and  behaviour  of  some  well  meaning  but  mis- 
taking Christians ;    these  too  will  be  prejudiced  against 
religion.     They,  of  all  men,  have  the  fairest  title  to,  and 
the  greatest  reason,  capacity,    and  fund  of  joy  and  de- 
light ;    for  who  should  rejoice,  if  they  do  not  and  must 
riot,  who  act  up  to  their  character  as  men  and  as  Chris- 
tians ;  vv^ho  in  the  main  keep  a  good  conscience  both  to- 
ward God  and  man  ?  Joy  and  satisfaction  are  the  natural 
as  well,   as  promised   reward   of  such  a  life.      Who 
should  rejoice,  if  they  may  not,  who  have  God  for  their 
chief  good  and  felicity,  Christ  for  their  way  to  it,  the 
Holy  Spirit  as  their  qualifier  for  and  earnest  of  it,  and 
heaven  for  their  everlasting  home,   in  which  they  are  to 
possess  and  enjoy  it  ?  How  can  such  persons  reflect  on 
ajl  this,    and  not  rejoice?    Certainly,    they   would   be 
ei^vceedingly  to  be  blamed,  if  they  did  not  rejoice. 

.And  if  there  be  this  inward  joy,  it  will  express  itself 
in  the  outward  con\'ersation.  An  easy  mind,  a  content- 
t^d,  joyful  heart  cannot  be  concealed.  All  a  man's  words 
and  actions  will  be  tinctured  with  it.  Like  the  oint- 
ment of  the  right  hmd  (a  sweet  perfume,  chafed 
with  the  heat  of  the  hand)  it  will  bewray  itself, 
and  diftuse  its  fragrance  all  around.  And  it  is  fit  ^ 
that  it  should.  Christians  ought  not,  if  able,  to  throw  a 
veil  of  pensive  sadness  over  the  tranquillity  and  joy  of  their 
hearts.     This  would  not  be  humility,  but  affectation  :  it 


Ser.  XVm.l  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  22.1 

would  not  adorn  religion,  but  disgrace  it ;  and  conse- 
quently would  not  be  pleasing  and  honourary  to  God, 
but  the  reverse. 

Secondly.  The  Spirit  is  communicated  for  this  end, 
that  we  might  rejoice  in  the  Lord;  and  is  therefore 
called  "  the  Comforter ^  And  as  this,  so  his  other  titles, 
of  a  "free  Spirit,"  the  "  Spiritof  adoption^,"  the  "Spirit 
of  glory,"  all  signify  his  being  imparted  with  this  de- 
sign, that  we  should  lejoice  and  glory  in  that  blessed 
state  into  which  by  the  grace  of  God  we  are  translated. 
The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love,  and  joy,  and  peace. 
These  are  the  affections,  which  constitute  happiness; 
and  these  are  the  affections,  which  both  the  gospel  and 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  are  given  to  raise  and  promote. 
Christians  are  bound  to  love  God  and  one  another ; 
and  where  this  divine  affection  is  triumphant,  joy  and 
peace  are  always  found  in  its  train. 

Then  let  not  any  of  the  followers  of  Christ  entertain 
such  an  erroneous  thought,  as  if  a  sorrowful,  dejected 
spirit,  were  the  true,  the  genuine  spirit  of  Christianity. 
Sorrow  for  sin,  there  ought  to  be  ;  but  this  sorrow^ 
when  it  is  after  a  godly  sort,  is  not  inconsistent  with  joy, 
but  implies  and  produces  it.  It  implies  it,  as  it  involves 
the  exercise  of  love  to  God,  whom  by  sin  we  have  offend- 
ed, a  pleasing  faith,  and  hope  in  liis  forgiving  mercy 
through  the  Mediator,  the  acting  and  consciousness  of  a 
right  disposition  toward  sin  and  holiness  :  all  which  af- 
ford immediate  and  unspeakable  delight.  It  produces  it, 
as  it  is  the  condition  and  evidence  of  a  state  of  pardon 
and  peace  with  God.  On  both  accounts,  godly  sorrow, 
far  from  excluding,  is  the  seed  of  spiritual  joy. 

Thirdly.  This  joy  tends  very  much  to  the  advance- 
ment of  the  divine  hfe  in  the  soul.  In  this  sense,  the  joy 
of  the  Lord  is  the  strength  of  the  righteous.     It  greatly 


222  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Seb.  XVIII. 

confirms  them  in  the  ways  of  piety,  fortifies  their  holy 
resokitions,  and  supports  them  in  times  of  trouble. 
The  Christian,  whose  religion  yields  him  little  or  no 
peace  and  pleasure,  is  not  so  likely  to  be  zealously  af- 
fected in  it,  or  to  go  on  with  any  speed  toward  perfec- 
tion. 

Would  you  then  abound  in  the  ^^'ork  of  the  Lord,  and 
in  the  fruits  of  righteousness  to  his  glory  ?  Would  you 
have  all  the  powers  of  your  soul  invigorated  ?  Would 
you  improve  in  every  divine  %irtue,  and  perform  every 
duty  in  the  most  acceptable  manner  ?  Then  labour  to 
keep  up  a  spirit  of  holy  joy  and  cheerfulness.  It  is  your 
duty  to  do  this  as  much,  as  it  is  your  duty  to  be  still 
advancing  in  religion  ;  since  you  cannot  expect  the  latter 
without  the  former.  Is  not  the  Cliristian  life  represent- 
ed as  a  race  and  a  pilgrimage  ?  Are  we  not  travelling  to- 
ward Zion?  But  what  speed  can  we  make  with  a 
continual  load  of  sadness  and  dejection  upon  our  spirits  ? 
How  can  we  run  the  race  set  before  us  ?  How  be  other- 
w ise  than  \\eary  and  faint  in  our  minds ?  Wherefore  let 
us  lift  up  the  hands  that  hang  down  and  the  feeble  knees, 
and  make  straight  paths  for  our  feet,  lest  that  which  is 
lame  be  turned  out  of  the  way.  Let  us  thus  rejoice  in 
God  through  Jesus  Christ,  though  not  without  a  hum- 
bling sense  of  our  great  un\^orthiness  and  numberless 
defects.  Then  we  shall  find  ourselves  much  more  live- 
ly and  active  in  religion ;  and  being  freed  fi'om  that  bur- 
den, under  which  we  were  before  ready  to  sink,  shall 
run  in  the  way  of  God's  commands,  and  mount  up  to- 
ward heaven  as  on  the  wings  of  eagles, 

improvemf:nt. 

In  thefrst  place,  Avhat  a  charming  idea  docs  our  sub- 
ject give  of  true  religion,  especially  under  the  Christian 


Ser.  XVIIL]  religious  joy.  223 

dispensation  !  Even  under  all  the  darkness,  restrictions, 
and  terrors  of  the  law,  good  men  were  acquainted  with 
spiritual  jo}^ ;  and  some  of  them  on  ancient  record, 
particulai-ly  David,  expressed  their  holy  joy,  in  the  most 
elevated  language.  But  under  the  gospel,  religion  ap- 
pears in  its  brightest  and  fairest  light,  and  is  eminently 
adapted  to  beget  all  joy  and  peace,  in  those  who  believe 
and  duly  entertain  it.  No  one  can  think  or  speak  evil  of 
the  religion  of  Christ,  who  rightly  understands  it.  For 
what  is  its  main  design,  but  to  restore  us  to  God  and  to 
ourselves,  to  our  true  perfection  and  happiness  ?  Let  us 
only,  at  present,  take  notice  of  its  tendency  to  promote 
our  well  being,  both  in  this  life  and  the  next,  by  the 
provision  it  has  made  for  the  due  government  and  exer- 
cise of  our  affections.  These  affections  may  be  con- 
sidered with  regard  both  to  action  and  enjoyment. 

The  two  chief  springs  of  action  are  hope  and  fear ; 
tlie  two  principal  sources  of  enjoyment,  or  ingredients  of 
felicity,  are  love  and  joy.  As  to  the  first  pair  of  these 
affections,  no  religion  can  possibly  be  better  adapted  to 
awaken  and  regulate  these,  than  the  Christian.  For 
what  will  awaken  our  hope,  if  the  prospect  of  such  a 
blessedness  as  the  gospel  sets  before  us,  which  is  con- 
summate and  endless,  will  not  do  it  ?  What  can  reason- 
ably awaken  our  fears,  like  the  wrath  of  God  revealed 
from  heaven  against  all  unrighteousness  and  ungodliness 
of  men  ?  And  what  method  can  be  proposed  for  the  reg- 
ulation of  our  other  hopes  and  fears,  so  likely  and  effec- 
tual as  this,  of  making  them  all  subservient  to  those 
hopes  and  fears,  which  terminate  on  things  invisible  and 
eternal  ?  And  the  end  of  exciting  our  fear  as  well,  as 
hope,  being  this,  that  wa  may  hereby  be  engaged  to  a  right 
temper  and  conduct,  the  gospel,  CAcn  in  its  threatenings 
as  well,  as  promises,  has  a  very  benign  and  friendly  as- 
pect. 


224  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  {Ser.  XVIII. 

,7'The  same  may  be  remarked  concerning  our  love  and 
joy,  Oil  which  our  fruition  of  happiness  more  immediate- 
ly depends.  Were  our  souls  under  the  powerful  influ- 
ence of  that  love,  which  the  gospel  aims  to  kindle  in  our 
breasts,  the  love  of  God  and  of  Jesus ;  and  did  we  ex- 
perience more  of  that  inward  joy,  to  which  ^ve  are  so  fre- 
quently and  earnestly  invited  by  God  himself,  we  should 
be  more  truly  and  eminently  happy,  than  we  now  are ; 
and  should  not  be  in  so  much  danger  of  pursuing  the 
empty,  fugitive  phantoms  of  happiness,  which  this 
world  presents.  I  may  'add,  the  higher  degrees  we 
enjoyed  of  this  divine  happiness,  the  more  steady  and 
unshaken  would  be  the  adherence  of  our  souls  to  the 
supreme  good  ;  and  the  main  objects  of  our  love  and  joy, 
being  wisely  chosen  and  deeply  fixed,  would  so  direct 
and  overrule  our  love  of  inferior  things  and  delight  in 
them,  as  to  keep  them  within  the  bounds  of  reason  ;  be- 
yond which  they  only  occasion  greater  disquietude  and 
vexation. 

What  just  ground,  then,  can  any  have  to  entertain  an 
ill  opinion  of  religion,  of  the  Christian  religion?  It  is 
true  Christianity  obliges  us  to  mortify  our  members 
which  are  upon  the  earth.  But  these  members  are 
only  certain  excrescences  of  our  nature,  irregular  lusts 
and  passions,  which  are  as  incompatible  with  our  peace 
and  happiness^  as  with  our  duty.  "  Mortify  }'our  mem- 
bers which'  kt€  on  the  earth,  fornication,  uncleanness, 
inordinate  affection,  evil  concupiscence,  and  covetous - 
ness,  which  is  idolatry."  This  shows,  that  though 
these  cortupt  inclinations  are  siyled  our  members,  they  do 
not  belong  to- oar  primitive  or  our  renewed  nature,  but 
only  to  the  corruption,  of  it.  It  is  further  QTanted,  that 
Christianity^  can  ies  ^'irtue  to  its  highest  pitch ;  that  it 
enjoins  such  heights  of  purity  and  divine  lo^e,  that  it  is 


SEk.  XVm.)  RELIGIOUS  JOYt.  225 

no  easy  thing  to  be  a  Christian  indeed.  But  what  does 
this  prove  ?  Not  that  the  religion  of  Jesus  is  not  adapt- 
ed to  the  feUcity  of  this  life,  but  the  reverse ;  for  it  lays 
no  other  burden  upon  us,  than  what  is,  in  its  own  na- 
ture, reasonable,  necessary,  and  beneficial,  and  what 
would  be  no  burden  at  all,  were  it  not  for  our  own  de- 
pravity. It  aims  only  to  remove  what  would  incapaci- 
tate us  for  true  pleasure  ;  and  when  it  obliges  us  to  be 
holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation,  to  be  perfect  and 
pure  as  God  and  Christ  are  ;  it  does  it  upon  this  ground, 
that  such  holiness  and  perfection  are  the  true  glory  and 
happiness  of  our  reasonable  natures,  which  alone  can 
enable  us  to  rejoice  in  God.  Godhness  has  the  promise 
of  this  life  as  well,  as  of  that  which  is  to  come  ;  not  in- 
deed of  th^e  pride  and  incumbrance  of  life,  of  worldly 
affluence,  greatness,  pleasure  ;  but  of  that  happiness, 
which  suits  a  reasonable  nature,  and  the  design  of  our 
Christian  profession. 

In  short,  the  glory  of  God  in  the  happiness  of  men  is 
the  great  object  and  end  of  Christianity,  in  the  whole 
system  of  its  doctrines,  precepts  and  sanctions.  It  is 
true  that  our  everlasting  happiness  in  the  next  life  ias 
principally  intended,  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  but  then  the 
happiness  of  thir^  life  is  consulted  and  promoted  as  far, 
as  is  consistent  with  the  other,  which  is  infinitely  more 
important.  And  I  may  safely  afurm,  that  it  is  richly 
worthy  of  tlie  wisest  man's  choice  to  be  a  Christian, 
merely  on  the  score  of  the  present  felicity,  which  attends 
such  a  character. 

In  the  second  place  ^  are  we  acquainted  with  that  habit- 
ual, holy  joy  in  the  Lord,  which  is  the  peculiar  charac- 
ter and  privilege  as  well,  as  the  constant  duty  of  the 
righteous  ?  Is  God  himself,  in  the  infinite  glory  of  his 
perfections  and  government,  the  primary  object  of  our 


226  RELIGIOUS  JOY.  [Ser.  XVIII. 

joy  ?  Can  we  cordially  rejoice  in  every  thing,  which  re- 
lates to  this  most  excellent  Being?  Does  our  joy  in 
God  possess  a  decided  superiority  over,  and,  as  it  were, 
perfume  and  consecrate,  all  our  other  joys  ?  And  is  it  a 
constant  and  permanent  thing  ?  Are  we  qualified  and 
capacitated  for  this  spiritual  joy,  by  a  prevailing  like- 
ness and  love  to  the  object  ?  Arc  we  entitled  to  it  by  a 
vital  union  to  Christ,  the  great  medium  and  procurer  of 
this  privilege  ? 

///  the  third  place  ^  to  such  as  find  themselves  desti- 
tute of  any  title  to,  qualifications  for,  or  experience  of, 
this  joy,  let  me  briefly  say  ;  Your  condition  at  present 
resembles  that  of  the  starving  prodigal  in  a  strange  land, 
at  a  distance  from  his  father's  house,  associatbig  with 
swine,  feeding  upon  husks,  perishing  with  hunger. 
Perhaps  some  of  you  are  now  triumphing  in  the  pleasing 
enjoyments  and  prospects,  ^vhich  a  flattering  world  pre- 
sents to  her  prosperous  votaries,  especially  in  the  liloom- 
ing  gaiet}'  of  youthful  life.  But,  my  friends,  look  for- 
ward to  the  end  of  this  bright  and  fascinating  career  of 
worldly  joy.  Ask  the  child  of  earthly  pleasure  on  his 
deatH  bed,  whether  this  is  the  course  he  would  recom- 
mend to  his  children  and  friends  ;  whether  with  his  dy- 
ing breath  he  can  assure  them,  that  these  gratifications 
really  form  the  greatest  enjoyment  of  life  ?  Will  he  not 
tell  you,  from  his  own  experience,  that  they  are  all  vani- 
ty and  vexation  ;  that  they  are  in  themselves  treach- 
erous, unsound,  hollow,  disturbed  in  the  very  moment 
i>\  enjoyment ;  that  in  the  midst  of  such  laughter  the 
heart  is  sorrowful ;  that  the  smile  of  gaiety  is  often  as- 
sumed, while  the  heart  aches  ^^'ithin  ?  Whereas  relig- 
ion, by  bringing  back  the  wandering  soul  to  God,  and 
])lacing  its  love,  and  hope,  and  joy  in  him,  produces  a 
heartfelt,  habitual,  and  satisfying  delight,  a  cahn,  serene 


Ser.  XVIIL]  religious  joy.  227 

enjoyment,  a  steady  light,  shining  like  that  of  the  sun, 
more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

Let  me,  then,  earnestly  invite  and  press  you  to 
come,  taste,  and  see  how  good  the  Lord  is  ;  to  come, 
eat  of  wisdom's  bread,  and  drink  of  the  \^'ine,  which  she 
has  mingled.  Let  me  call  on  all  those,  who  have  hith- 
erto ^\'alkcd  in  the  way  of  their  own  hearts,  and  have  no 
other  pleasures  than  those,  which  are  merely  sensual  and 
earthly,  or  at  best,  have  been  strangers  to  the  superior 
delights  of  communion  with  God  ;  to  all  such  I  call,  to 
seek  after  that  divine  joy,  which  religion  offers  and  gives 
to  her  children.  Oh,  seek  after  that  renovation  of  heart 
to  the  likeness  and  love  of  God,  which  is  necessary  to 
prepare  you  to  relish  and  delight  in  his  holy  and  glori- 
ous character.  Seek  after  that  faith  and  interest  in 
Christ,  which  are  requisite  to  entitle  you  to  this  joy. 
Every  motive,  taken  from  time  and  from  eternity,  urges 
you  to  this  ;  for  your  whole  happiness  in  bodi  is  con- 
cerned and  wrapped  up  in  it. 

Finally.  Let  true  Christians  permit  me  to  be  their 
monitor,  as  to  their  privilege  and  duty  in  this  instance. 
Oh,  what  a  singular  privilege  do  you  possess,  of  being 
able  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  to  rejoice  in  him  at  all 
times,  in  all  circumstances  !  Oh,  bless  God  for  making 
this  delightful  exercise  your  constant  duty,  and  thus 
twisting,  or  rather  uniting,  your  business  and  happiness 
together  in  one  point  !  What  an  additional  motive  is 
here  to  the  love  of  God,  who  has  pleasure  in  the  prosper- 
ity and  joy  of  his  servants  !  Oh,  love  the  Lord  therefore 
all  ye  his  servants,  and  constantly  delight  in  him.  Let 
joyful  thanksgiving  and  praise  be  a  main  part  of  your 
employment  here,  as  it  v.ill  be  your  v.hole  and  eternal 
employment  in  heaven.  Watch  against  every  thing, 
l1 


228  RELIGIOUS  JOY,  [Ser.  XVIIL 

which  would  indispose  you  for  the  enjoyments  of  the 
divine  life ;  and  remember,  that  by  intermitting  the  ex- 
ercises of  the  heavenly  life  you  rob  yourselves  of  its 
pleasures.  If  any  of  you,  by  sloth,  carnal  indul- 
gences, or  any  other  means,  have  lost  that  liveliness  and 
joy  in  God  and  religion,  which  you  once  had,  call  to 
mind  whence  you  are  fallen,  and  wliat  you  have  lost,  and 
repent,  and  set  yourselves  to  do  your  first  works,  and  re- 
gain your  first  love,  that  you  may  recover  your  former 
joy.  Thus,  from  time  to  time,  you  should  recollect 
yourselves,  examine  the  state  of  your  souls,  repair  any 
decays,  correct  any  slips  you  have  made,  and  stir  up 
yourselves  to  take  hold  of  God  and  his  strength.  You 
have  always  reason  to  suspect,  that  things  are  greatly 
amiss  within  you,  when  you  can  take  as  much  pleasure 
as  usual,  or  more,  in  other  things,  but  not  in  God  or  re- 
ligion. Oh,  seek  then  to  have  the  joy  of  the  Lord  for 
your  constant  food  and  strength  ;  that,  under  its  influ- 
ence, you  may  mount  up  with  w^ings  as  eagles,  and  be- 
ripening  fast  for  perfect  union,  love,  and  enjoyment  m 
heaven. 


Sermon  xix. 


Delivered  at  a  Concert  of  Praycro 


Matthew  vi.  9,  10. 

Hallowed  be  thy  name;  thy  kingdom  come ;  thy  ivill  be 
done  171  earthy  as  it  is  in  heaven. 

X  HAT  divine  form  of  devotion,  of  which  these 
words  are  a  part,  is  equally  distinguished  for  its  brevity 
and  fulness,  its  plainness  and  grandeur,  its  universal 
suitableness  and  importance.  In  these  several  respects, 
it  unspeakably  transcends  the  highest  productions  of 
man.  While  it  unites  the  interests  of  heaven  and  earth, 
of  time  and  eternity,  in  six  short  petitions  ;  it  is  remark- 
able that  three  of  these,  which  compose  the  first  part 
of  the  prayer,  centre  in  one  great  object,  viz.  the  declar- 
ative glory  of  God,  consisting  in  the  universal  prosper- 
ity of  his  kingdom,  and  advanced  by  the  general  obe- 
dience, order,  and  happiness  of  his  moral  subjects. 
And  as  the  beginning,  so  the  conclusion  of  this  de- 
vout summary,  is  consecrated  to  this  object;  for  it 
closes  with  ascribing  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  glory 
to  the  Deity  ;  and  by  its  significant  a?ncn,  it  sums  up 
the  feelings  of  the  petitioner  in  a  strong  desire  and  as- 
surance, that  God  will  manifest  this  his  power  and  glory 
in  the  universal  establishment  of  his  spiritual  kingdom. 
The  words,  then,  which  I  have  placed  at  the  head  of 
this  discourse,  and  which  comprise  the  first  and  crown- 
ing part  of  this  perfect  model  of  supplication,  are  emi- 
IWMtly  suited  to  the  present  occasion  j  which  is  not  only 


230  ON  PRAYER.  [Seu.  XIX. 

a  season  of  united  prayer,  but  is  expressly  de\'oted  to 
the  object  here  recommended,  viz.  the  advancement  of 
Christ's  kingdom  in  our  world.  That  our  prayers  on 
a  subject  so  sublime  and  interesting,  and  our  future  con- 
duct pursuant  to  tliem,  may  be  properly  directed  and 
animated,  let  us  attend  to  the  leading  instructions,  sug- 
gested to  us  in  the  concise,  but  weighty  petitions  above 
recited.  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name ;  thy  kingdom  come ; 
thy  will  be  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven." 

As  names  are  emplojed  to  signify,  or  con\'ey  the 
knowledge  of  things,  so  the  name  of  God,  in  the  text, 
signifies  the  Deity  himself,  as  made  known  by  his  word, 
institutions  and  works.  When  God  was  pleased,  at  the 
request  of  his  favourite  servant,  to  proclaim  his  name 
and  to  show  his  glory  ;  these  were  the  ingredient-s  of 
that  comprehensive  display — "  The  Lord,  the  Lord 
God,  gracious  and  merciful,  long  suffering,  and  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  truth,  keeping  mercy  for  thous- 
ands, forgiving  iniquity,  transgression  and  sin,  and  who 
will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty."  This  diyine  name, 
announced  to  Moses,  and  more  obscurely  published  by 
the  ancient  prophets,  is  fully  illustrated  by  Jesus  Christ, 
by  the  vrhole  series  of  his  actions,  suflerings  and  doc- 
trines ;  which  unitedly  exhibit  the  rich  and  endearing 
mercy  of  Jehovah,  in  connexion  with  his  awful  majesty, 
justice  and  truth.  While  the  law  and  gospel  thus  pub- 
lish the  name  of  God,  his  various  works  of  nature, 
providence  and  grace,  by  harmonizing  with  and  fulfill- 
ing his  word,  add  lustre  and  confirmation  to  every  part 
of  his  revealed  name,  and  spread  abroad  its  glory,  as 
the  earth  and  planets  receive  and  refiect  the  splendour  of 
tlie  sun. 

Accordingly,  God's  name  is  hallo-ivcd  or  consecrated, 
when  it  is  conspicuously  and  eminently  honoured  ;  just 


Ser.  XIX.]  on  prayer.  231  . 

as  the  consecrated  persons  and  things  under  the  law 
were  peculiarly  dignified  by  their  separation  to  holy 
purposes.  To  pray,  therefore,  for  the  sanctification  of 
the  divine  name,  implies  a  request,  that  the  various  at- 
tributes,  which  compose  this  name,  may  be  displayed 
and  extolled  by  the  whole  created  universe :  in  partic- 
ular, that  intelligent  creatures,  especially  the  human  race, 
may  unitedly  ofier  to  their  Creator  those  inward  senti- 
ments and  outward  expressions  of  veneration  and  love> 
which  are  most  suitable  and  honourary  to  so  glorious 
an  object,  and  which  best  comport  with  the  various  dis- 
coveries of  his  character ;  and  finally,  that  he  would 
make  all  things,  even  the  partial  and  temporary  evils  of 
our  system,  ultimately  conduce  to  the  greatest  glory  of 
his  name. 

The  two  next  clauses  of  the  text,  "Thy  kingdom 
come,  thy  will  be  done,"  are  intimately  connected  with 
the  first,  as  means  vrith  the  end.  By  God's  kingdom 
here  is  intended,  not  his  general  providential  govern- 
ment, which  has  been  erected  and  administered  from  the 
creation,  and  whose  coming  therefore  is  not  an  object  of 
prayer  ;  but  his  mediatorial  and  gracious  kingdom^ 
This  comprehends  that  external  administration,  by  which 
he  calls  men  to  the  profession  of  the  true  religion,  and 
gives  them  outward  laws,  ordinances,  and  privileges ; 
also  that  internal  dominion,  by  which  he  effectually  sub- 
dues, sanctifies,  and  comforts  their  hearts,  and  which 
the  apostle  accordingly  describes,  as  consisting  in 
righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and 
finally,  that  heavenly  ^tate  of  glory,  which  is  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  two  former ;  for  the  kingdom  of  God  on 
earth,  both  in  its  \'isible  and  invisible  duties  and  bless- 
ings, is  but  a  handmaid,  or  a  preparatory  discipline  to 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


235  ON  PRAYER.  [Ser.  XIX. 

When,  therefore,  we  pray  that  God's  kingdom  may 
come,  we  request  the  universal  spread  of  the  gospel, 
both  in  its  external  and  inward  dispensation,  and  the 
consequent  reign  of  virtue,  peace,  and  felicity,  through 
the  whole  family  of  mankind.  We  ask  the  full  ac- 
complishment of  the  great  plan  of  mediatorial  mercy, 
not  only  in  the  expected  glory  of  the  latter  days,  but  in 
the  f'dx  more  glorious  and  happy  state  of  things  which 
will  finally  succeed.  And  since  the  honour  of  a  king- 
as  well,  as  the  beauty  and  happiness  of  his  empire,  great- 
ly depends  on  the  prompt  and  entire  obedience  of  his 
subjects  ;  we  pray  that  the  vvill  of  our  divine  Sovereign 
may  be  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven ;  that  is,  that  it 
may  be  performed  by  us,  and  b}''  mankind  at  large,  in  a 
manner  resembling,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  obedience 
of  celestial  spirits  ;  with  the  same  speed  and  alacrity, 
purity  and  exactness,  humility  and  veneration,  constancy 
and  fervour. 

As  these  several  petitions  thus  point  to  the  work  of 
redemption,  or  the  Christian  interest,  and  pray  for  its 
general  triumph  ;  so  they  remarkably  suit  each  succes- 
sive period,  or  varying  condition  of  the  church,  from  the 
beginning  to  this  day.  During  the  patriarchal  and 
Mosaic  dispensations,  the  coming  of  God's  kingdom 
under  the  promised  Messiah  was  the  immediate  anel 
great  object  of  prayer  to  the  Old  Testament  saints. 
When  the  Messiah  appeared,  and  began  to  erect  his  gos- 
pel kingdom^  the  immediate  object  of  the  petitions  be- 
fore us,  as  presented  to,  and  used  by,  his  primitive  disci- 
ples, was  the  extension  of  this  new  dispensation  from 
Judea  throughout  the  world.  W^e,  in  this  later  period 
of  the  world,  being  presented  by  the  word  and  provi- 
dence of  God,  with  the  near  prospect  of  a  still  more 
glorious  dispensation  of  grace,    in  a  far  more  general 


Ses.  XIX.]  ON  PRAYER.  233 

diftasion  than  has  yet  existed,  of  the  Christian  doctrine 
and  spirit ;  we  are  hereby  directed  to  apply  the  petitions 
before  us  more  immediately  to  this  approaching  event : 
while  those,  who  shall  enjoy  this  expected,  happy 
dispensation,  will  still  long  and  pray  for  the  more  illustri- 
ous and  fnial  coming  of  Christ  in  his  kingdom  of  glory. 

Having  briefly  illustrated  the  prayer  of  our  text,  let  us 
attend  more  distinctly  to  its  superior  importance ;  or  to 
tlie  sacred  motives  and  obligations,  which  persuade 
us  to  adopt  it. 

In  the  first  place,  the  rank  which  it  bears  in  this  divine 
pattern  of  devotion  proclaims  its  peculiar  moment.  The 
interest  and  honour  of  God^s  name  and  kingdom  are 
justly  held  up  as  the  beginning,  centre,  and  end  of  die 
Lord's  prajer,  both  because  the  perfections  and  glory 
of  the  Supreme  Being  deservedly  claim  our  first  and 
supreme  attention ;  and  because  true  love  to  him,  which 
is  the  soul  of  religion  and  of  acceptable  prayer,  unites 
the  heart  to  his  interest,  as  its  principal  object ;  and  of 
course  makes  it  desire  above  all  tilings  the  prosperity  of 
the  Redeemer's  kingdom. 

The  scripture  represents  the  work  of  redemption,  as 
the  greatest  of  divine  operations,  and  as  giving  the  most 
perfect  display  of  the  divine  character,  as  reflecting  trans- 
cendent glor}'  on  all  the  persons  and  perfections  of  Deity. 
Consequently,  the  more  this  work  flourishes,  or  the 
more  eminently  the  kingdom  of  grace  prevails,  the  more 
splendid  is  the  triumph  of  the  divine  name ;  the  larger  is 
the  revenue  of  glory  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost.  Must  not  every  soul,  which  possesses  the 
genuine  feelings  of  piety,  be  instantly  warmed  by  this 
consideration  into  ardent  prayers  and  eflforts  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  Christ's  kingdom  ?  The  prophet  Isaiah, 
having  a  distant  glimpse  of  the  surprising  glory,  which 


234  ON  PRAYER.  [Ser.  XIX. 

would  redound  to  the  blessed  God  by  the  redemption  of 
man,  is  so  enraptured  by  it,  that  he  fervently  calls  even 
upon  inanimate  nature,  to  burst  forth  into  joyful  praise 
on  the  great  occasion — "  Sing,  oh  heavens,  for  the  Lord 
hath  done  it ;  shout,  ye  lower  parts  of  the  earth  :  break 
forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains,  oh  forest,  and  every 
tree  therein ;  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed  Jacob,  and 
glorified  liimself'va  Israel." 

How  peculiarly  incumbent,  then,  is  it  upon  ns^  who  are 
at  once  God's  rational  creatures,  and  the  special  objects 
of  his  glorious  redeeming  mercy,  to  begin  and  end  all 
ciu'  offices  of  devotion,  with  fervent  praises  for  the 
work  of  redemption,  and  with  earnest  prayers  for  its 
promised,  more  extensive  success  !  How  important  is 
it,  that  this  object  should  pervade  and  sanctify  the 
whole  contexture  of  our  devotions  on  every  occasion, 
especially  such  as  the  present !  Otherwise,  our  relig- 
ious addresses  will  proceed  on  a  wrong  principle,  and 
breathe  an  improper  and  selfish  spirit. 

The  reason  of  things  as  well,  as  the  arrangement  of 
the  Lord's  prayer,  instructs  us  to  ask  for  other  bles- 
sings chiefly  as  means  to  this  governing  end ;  to  ask 
our  daily  bread,  or  needed  external  good,  not  merely  as 
an  instrument  of  animal,  much  less  of  sinful  gratifica- 
tion ;  but  as  requisite  or  conducive  to  our  serving  the 
purposes  of  his  kingdom ;  yea,  to  beg  the  forgiveness 
of  our  sins,  and  delix-erance  from  temptation  and  all 
evil,  not  barely  for  selfish  ends,  but  that  God's  honour 
and  kingdom  may  be  promoted  by  our  pardon,  sanc- 
tification,  and  final  happiness,  and  by  our  correspon- 
dent, everlasting  returns  of  service  and  praise. 

In  a  word,  the  petitions  in  the  text  are  of  such  prima- 
ry importance,  that  they  .ouglit  both  to  consecrate  and 
limit  all  our  other  desires  ;  so  that  we  should  feel  will- 


Ser.  XIX.]  ON  PRAYER,  235 

ing  to  be  denied  in  the  latter  so  far,  as  they  happen  to 
interfere  with  the  former.  Those  petitions,  indeed, 
the  grant  of  which  is  essential  to  our  final  happiness, 
are  always  consistent,  yea,  inseparably  united,  with  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  interest  of  the  Redeemer  ;  so,  that 
in  jiroperly  seeking  the  one,  we  necessarily  seek  and  se- 
cure the  other.  But  diose  requests,  which  respect  tem- 
poral good,  or  some  non-essential  circumstances  of  spir- 
itual blessings,  may  not  be  always  consistent  with  the 
grand  object  of  prayer  in  the  text ;  in  which  case,  they 
must  be  cheerfully  submitted  and  sacrificed  to  it.  In 
this  case,  the  denial  of  our  private  inferior  petitions  is, 
on  the  whole,  the  best  fulfilment  and  reward  of  our 
prayer  ;  because  it  gratifies  and  recompenses  our  first, 
disinterested,  and  crowning  request. 

Our  Saviour  prayed  earnestly,  that  the  bitter  cup  of 
crucifixion  might  pass  from  him,  yet  viith  perfect  sub- 
mission to  the  will  and  glory  of  his  Father.  His  par- 
ticular request  was  refused  ;  because  the  honour  of 
God's  decrees,  predictions,  and  attributes  in  the  re- 
demption of  man,  demanded  his  death.  Yet  we  are 
told,  in  the  fifth  chapter  to  the  Hebrews,  that  "  he  was 
heard  in  these  his  strong  supplications  and  tears  ;"  that 
is,  his  governing  desire  was  granted.  His  Father,  by 
quickly  exalting  him  from  the  grave  to  his  own  right 
hand,  and  giving  him  to  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  to 
his  abundant  satisfaction,  rewarded  him  with  a  far  great- 
er good,  than  that  v^hich  he  had  previously  denied. 

Which  leads  us  to  observe,  that  the  proper  recom- 
pense and  joy  of  the  Redeemer  are  greatly  concerned 
in  the  petitions  before  us.  The  heart  of  Christ  was  so 
perfectly  engaged  for  his  Father's  honour  and  kingdom, 
as  connected  \vith  our  redemption,  that  he  freely  sub- 
mitted  to  innnense  humiliation  ajid  sufferings  to  secure 
M  m 


236  ON  PRAYER.  [Ser.  XIX, 

these  invaluable  ends.  This  was,  in  a  great  degree, 
the  joy  set  before  him,  for  which  he  endured  the  cross, 
and  despised  the  shame.  A  leading  promise  made  to 
him  by  his  Father  was,  that  he  should  see  his  seed,  and 
that  the  pleasure  of  the  Lord  should  prosper  in  his 
hand  ;  that  all  nations  should  serve  him ;  that  every 
Knee  and  tongue  should  pay  him  homage.  Wlien  we 
consider  how  richly  Christ  lias  merited  this  promised 
reward  ;  how  much  he  laboured,  prayed,  and  suffered 
in  order  to  obtain  it ;  Avhat  an  eminent  claim  jje  had  to 
be  exalted  both  by  God  and  man,  who  has  done  and 
i«dured  so  much  for  the  interests  of  both :  when  we 
contemplate  these  things,  can  we  avoid  feeling  the 
strongest  incentives  to  pray  for  that,  which  is  the  fa- 
vourite object,  recompense,  and  harvest  of  all  his  toils^ 
and  sufferings ! 

Especially  when  we  add,  that  the  advancement  of 
Christ^s  kingdom  is  an  event  unspeakably  glorious 
and  happy.  It  is  glorious  ;  as  the  character  and  gov- 
ernment of  this  divine  King  are  absolutely  perfect. 
While  the  dominion  of  the  greatest  and  best  earthly 
rulers  is  weak,  and  mutable,  and  transitory,  liable  ta  be 
obstructed  and  even  subverted,  by  domestic  or  foreign 
resistance  ;  the  empire  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  like  him- 
self, immoveable  and  everlasting.  While  the  authority 
of  earthly  kings  can  regulate  only  the  visible  conduct, 
and  secure  the  temporal  interests,  of  their  subjects  ;  the 
administration  of  King  Jesus  controls  the  secret  affec- 
tions, and  insures  the  spiritual  and  everlasting  felicity  of 
the  soul.  While  many  imperfections  mark  the  intellec- 
tual and  moral  character,  and  consequently  the  official 
conduct,  of  the  best  human  governors,  and  of  course 
render  their  administration  a  feeble,  precarious,  and  in- 
terrupted source  of  public  happiness  ;   the  character  of 


-Ser.  XIX.]  ON  PRAYER.  237 

Messiah,  the  Prince,  combines  unerring  wisdom  to  plan, 
ahnighty  power  to  execute,  invariable  justice,  benevo- 
lence, and  m:€rcy  to  prompt  and  direct  all  his  knowl- 
edge and  energy  to  the  highest  good  of  his  sub- 
j-ects^ 

How  transcendent  must  l>e  the  prosperity  of  that  holy 
community,  which  obeys  the  .laws,  and  enjoys  the  pro- 
tection, of  this  glorious  Sovereign  !  What  a  golden  age 
of  the  world  must  that  be,  in  which  his  bemQ:n  sfoveni- 
ment  shall  irnmediately  embrace  the  whole  brotlierliood 
of  man !  Figure  to  yourselves,  my  hearers,  the  divine 
religion  of  Jesus  enthroned  in  the  hearts,  in  the  families, 
and  in  all  the  societies  of  mankind  !  What  an  aggregate 
of  private  and  public  happiness  is  the  immediate  result ! 
Behold  each  individual  emancipated  from  the  vile  and 
destructive  tyranny  of  sin  and  Satan,  and  restored  to  in- 
ward fi^edom,  purity,  and  joy  !  See  every  family  pos- 
sessing that  domestic  harmony  and  bliss,  which  flows 
from  mutual  love  and  fidelity  among  its  several  mem- 
bers, and  from  the  constant,  delightful  experience  of  the 
divine  benediction  upon  their  common  cares,  endear- 
ments, and  satisfactions  !  Behold  every  civil  society  en- 
joying that  public  liberty  and  defence,  prosperity  and 
greatness,  internal  and  external  peace,  which  naturally 
ai'ise  from  the  universal  prevalence  of  private  and  social 
virtue  among  its  various  members  and  rulers  !  See  the 
benevolent  principles  of  Christianity  cementing  them  all 
into  one  harmonious  body,  and  devoting  their  several 
functions,  their  united  affections  and  efforts  to  the  gen- 
eral welfare!  See  each  member  loving  his  neighbour  as 
himself,  cheerfully  losing  private  interest  in  the  public 
good,  steadily  practising  those  personal,  patriotic,  and 
divine  virtues,  which  nourish  and  perfect  human  soci- 
ety,  and  at  once  zealously  promoting,  and  delightfully 


238  ON  PllAYER»  [Ser.  XIX. 

enjoying,  the  virtuous  and  happy  state  of  every  fellow 
member,  and  of  the  community  at  large ! 

As  these  would  be  the  natural  fruits  of  the  gospel  spirit 
universally  prevailing ;  so  Christ  himself  would  then  be 
the  king  and  protector  of  our  world  in  a  pecuhar  and  emi- 
nent manner.  All  his  high  attributes  and  authority  would 
be  exerted  for  its  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare.  All 
the  nations  would  enjoy  the  direct  influences  of  his  wise, 
efficacious,  and  benevolent  administration,  and  be  mould- 
ed by  it  into  one  vast  empire  of  righteousness  and  joy. 
Who,  that  has  any  friendship  either  to  God  or  man, 
can  help  exulting  at  the  thought  of  so  glorious  and  hap- 
py a  scene,  and  contributing  his  best  wishes  and  pray- 
ers for  its  speedy  arrival ! 

Especially  when  we  consider  further,  how  frequently 
and  expressly  the  scriptures  predict  and  promise  such 
a  blessed  period,  as  we  have  just  described.  The  Bible 
often  speaks  of  a  time,  when  the  heathen  and  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  shall  be  given  to  Christ  ;  when  the 
earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as 
the  waters  cover  the  sea ;  when  the  fulness  of  the  Gen- 
tiles shall  come  in,  and  all  Israel  be  saved ;  when  anti- 
christ shall  be  destroyed,  and  Satan  bound  a  thousand 
years;  when  war  shall  universally  cease,  and  piety, 
peace,  and  happiness  abound  through  the  world !  There 
is  no  period  in  the  history  of  past  ages,  which  corres- 
ponds with  these  magnificent,  scriptural  prophecies. 
We  are,  therefore,  warranted  and  encouraged  to  expect 
and  pray  for  their  future  accomplishment,  and  we  ought 
to  pray  for  it  with  that  assurance  of  faith,  which  such 
express  divine  declarations  require,  and  with  that  ardour 
and  constancy,  which  their  excellent  and  happy  import 
demands. 


See.  XIX.]  ON  PRAYER.  239 

It  is  also  further  to  be  considered,  that  tlie  whole  crea- 
tion is  earnestly  waiting,  and  constantly  groaning  and 
travailing  in  pain  for  this  glorious  event.      The  apostle, 
in  the  eighth  chapter  to   the  Romans,   introduces  the 
whole  frame  of  visible  nature,  the  insensible  and  brutal 
as  Avell,  as  intelligent  creation,  as  vehemently  desiring, 
expecting,  yea,  travailing  in  pain  for  this  happy  period. 
The  general  sentiment  of  this  remarkable  passage  seems 
to  be  this ;    that  man's  apostasy  has  brought  such  van- 
ity,  disorder,  and  bondage  upon  the  creation  around 
him  ;  has  subjected  them  to  such  an  unnatural  and  mis- 
erable  state  from-,  the  abuse  of  man  and  the  curse  of 
God,  that  they  may  be  said  to  groan  under  the  weight 
of  this  servitude,  and  to  pant  for  liberty  ;  to  groan  after 
a  restoration  to  their  primitive  perfection  and  use.     This 
passage  further  intimates,    that  when  the  kingdom  of 
Christ  shall  come  in  its  glory,   all  nature  shall,  in  some 
sense,  participate  its  happy  fruits ;    all   the  animal  and 
material  creation  shall,  in  a  great  measure,   be  rescued 
from  the  effects  of  the  curse,  and  be  made  to  serve  the 
real  benefit  of  man,  and  the  honour  of  their  God.     As 
the  prophet  represents  it,   "  holiness  to  the  Lord  shall 
be  written  upon  the  very  bells  of  the  horses,   and  eveiy 
pot  in  Jerusalem  shall  be  holiness  to  the  Lord  of  hosts." 
Shall  not  ive  then,  whose  apostasy  has  contributed  to 
this  debasement  and  misery  of  nature,  join  the  general 
groan  and  cry   of  the  travailing  creation,    in    ardently 
praying  for  its  expected,  happy  deliverance ;    whtn  not 
only  man,  but  the  creatures  connected  with  him,    shall, 
in  some  important  sense,  be  regenerated  from  the  bon> 
dage  of  corruption  unto  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons 
of  God? 

We   may  add,  that  fervent  and  constant  prayer  foi- 
the  coming  of  Christ's  kingdom  is  one  of  the  best  proofs 


240  ON  PRAYER,  ^     [Ser.  XIX. 

of  a  truly  enlarged  and  benevolent  mind,  of  a  spiritual 
and  divine  temper.  It  .is  represented  in  scripture,  as 
the  peculiar  character  of  the  saint,  that  he  is  a  friend  to 
Zion  ;  that  he  loves,  waits,  and  prays  for  her  prosperity  • 
that,  he  takes  pleasure  in  tlie  very  stones  of  Jerusalem, 
and  favours  even  the  dust  thereof.  Whence  it  appears, 
that  a  spirit  of  prayer  for  the  advancement  of  the  Chrisr 
tian  interest  is  necessary  to  prove  our  own  Christianity. 
Without  it  we  have  no  scriptural  evidence,  that  we  liave 
any  true  love  to  Christ,  to  his  church,  or  to  the  human 
race.  But  affectionate  and  unceasing  supplication  for 
the  general  spread  and  success  of  the  gospel  at  once  dis- 
covers and  improves  a  spirit  of  friendship  to  God  and  the 
Redeemer,  to  the  Christian  religion  and  church,  to  the 
best  interests  of  mankind,  and  in  some  sense  to  the  per- 
fection and  felicity  of  the  moral  system  in  general.  For 
the  scriptures  lead  us  to  think,  that  the  knowledge,  vir- 
tue, and  happiness  of  the  A'arious  orders  of  the  angelic 
world,  are  greatly  promoted  by  the  display  of  divine 
glory  in  the  design  and  gradual  progress  of  man's  res- 
toration to  holiness  and  happiness.  In  praying,  there- 
fore, for  this  object,  we  virtually  intercede  for  the  uni- 
verse ;  we  concur  and  have  fellowship  with  the  infinite- 
ly benevolent  Deity  in  that,  v,  hich  is  his  favourite  de-r 
sign  ;  and  thus  "we  approve  ourselves  his  genuine 
children. 

In  short,  fervent  prayer  for  the  advancement  of 
Christ's  kingdom  is  an  exercise  equally  noble,  pleasv 
ant,  and  advantageous.  It  is  nobk,  as  it  implies  the 
miost  generous,  godlike  views  and  desires.  It  is  pleas- 
ant^ as  it  expresses  and  promotes  that  love  to  God  and 
his  creatures,  \\'hich  is  the  very  temper  of  happiness ; 
and,  as  it  is  attended  with  a  delightful  consciousness  of 
resembling  and  pleasing  the  Being,  whom  we  address, 


Ser.  XIX.]  ON  PRAYER.  241 

and  with  a  comforting  assurance,  that  our  pious  and  bes- 
nevolent  petitions  \\ill  be  ultimately  answered.  It  is 
achantageoiis^  as  it  directly  sweetens  and  exalts  our 
spirits  ;  as  it  engages  us  to  such  a  conduct,  or  to  the 
careful  use  of  such  means,  as  may  best  correspond  with 
our  prayers,  and  give  them  the  greatest  force  and  suc- 
cess ;  and,  as  it  is  connected,  by  divine  constitution, 
with  the  attainment  of  the  important  blessing  we  implore. 
As  prayer,  in  general,  when  rightly  performed,  emi- 
nently qualifies  dependent  creatures  for  the  reception  of 
divine  favours,  and  is  therefore  properly  made  the  con- 
dition of  their  bestowment ;  so,  intercession  for  our  fel- 
low-creatures, especially  for  the  revival  and  prevalence 
of  religion  among  them,  is,  with  great  reason,  prescribed 
as  a  mean  of  drawing  down  this  infinite  blessing.  For 
'  since  earnest  prayer  for  this  object  implies  and  promotes 
a  disposition,  and  pursues  an  end,  highly  acceptable  and 
honorary  to  God,  and  eminently  conducive  to  the  gen- 
eral good  ;  the  Supreme  Being  must  surely  be  disposed 
to  encourage  and  reward  such  intercession,  by  granting 
some  signal  tokens  of  his  approbation.  Accordingly, 
the  Bible  abounds  with  precepts  and  examples,  encour- 
agements and  promises,  intended  to  animate  Christians 
to  frequent  and  earnest  supplication  for  this  comprehen- 
sive mercy.  The  Lord's  prayer,  as  we  have  already 
shewn,  is  a  standing  prescription  to  this  effect.  When 
God,  by  his  prophet  Ezekiel,  had  promised  his  people 
a  rich  aggregate  of  temporal  and  spiritual  blessings,  he 
fidds,  that  he  would  be  inquired  of  by  the  house  of  Israel 
to  do  this  for  them.  In  another  passage  he  represents 
himself,  as  waiting  for  his  people's  prayers,  to  prepare 
the  way  for  the  bestowment  of  special  favours  on  his 
church.  Yea,  he  describes  himself!,  as  hastening  to 
confer  these  blessings,  while  they  are  only  beginning  to 


242  ON  PRAYER.  [Ser.  XIX. 

call  upon  him  ;  and  to  crown  the  whole,  he  speaks  of 
himself,  as  being  at  their  command,  with  regard  to  mer- 
cies of  this  nature.  Agreeably,  the  remarkable  efficacy 
of  this  species  of  prayer  is  exemplified  by  many  pas- 
sages, both  in  sacred  and  ecclesiastical  history,  and  by 
some  memorable  events  in  the  annals  of  our  country. 

These  motives  to  prayer  for  the  revival  and  spread  of 
religion,  are  greatly  enforced  by  the  complexion  of  the 
Vvorld  at  the  present  day,  and  the  wonderful  dispensa- 
tions of  providence,  which  are  passing  over  it.  Many 
causes  and  events  are  now  signally  conspiring  to  pre- 
pare mankind  for  such  a  new  and  glorious  state  of 
things,  as  the  Bible  predicts. 

In  this  view,  we  might  particularly  mention  the  rapid 
destruction  of  the  papal  hierarchy ;  the  hastening  and 
general  downf.il  of  religious  fraud  and  tyranny,  super- 
stition and  bigotry;  the  swift  progress  of  knowledge 
and  free  inquiry,  of  mutual  candour  and  Catholicism 
among  the  different  Christian  denominations ;  the  un- 
rivalled extension  and  efficacy,  Mhich  are  given  to  the 
means  of  early  education  ;  the  accelerated  improve- 
ments of  mankind. in  the  science  of  ci\il  go^'ernment 
and  liberty  ;  and  in  the  various  arts,  w  hie  h  adorn'  and 
meliorate  human  society. 

At  the  same  time,  these  scientific,  political,  and  religious 
advantages,  are  found,  by  experiment,  utterly  insufficient  to 
reform  the  moral  character  of  the  age.  Instead  of  this,  they 
are,  in  many  instances,  giving  birth  and  nourishment  to 
greater  en'ors  and  vices,  both  in  the  religious  and  polit- 
ical world,  than  perhaps  ever  before  disgraced  the  his- 
tory of  man.  All  -w'hich  is  evidently  adapted  to  con- 
vince mankind,  by  their  own  experience,  of  the  ineffi- 
cacy  of  boasted  human  reason  and  virtue,  and  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  that  extraordinary  divine  influence. 


Ser.  XIX.3  ON  PRAYER.  243 

which  the  scriptures  predict,  to  give  due  force  and  di- 
rection to  the  best  external  means  of  reformation  and 
happiness. 

As  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  his  sanctifying  operations,  is 
the  great  summaiy  blessing  purchased  and  promised  by 
the  Founder  of  our  religion  ;  and  as  the  general  diffu- 
sion of  this  blessing  is  frequently  represented  in  scrip- 
ture, as  the  main  source  and  ingredient  of  the  glory  and 
felicity  of  the  latter  days,  and  of  course  the  leading  ob- 
ject of  Christian  intercession  ;  so  the  progress  of  things 
in  the  world,  at  this  day,  must  impress  serious  observ- 
ers with  the  special  importance  and  duty  of  earnestly 
praying  for  this  favour,  in  such  a  pressing  crisis  of  hu- 
man affairs. 

The  professed  friends  of  Christianity  are  now  loudly 
called,  by  the  voice  of  providence,  to  distinguish  them- 
selves in  this  way  from  the  numerous  tribe  of  speculative 
and  practical  infidels.  While  this  careless  or  scoffing  de- 
scription of  men  deride  either  the  whole  doctrine  of  a  fu- 
ture more  glorious  state  of  the  Christian  church,  or  at  least 
of  a  special  divine  agency  in  producing  it ;  while  they 
fondly  ascribe  the  expected  regeneration  of  the  world  to 
a  train  of  common,  natural  causes,  and  ridicule  th^  pre- 
tended propriety  and  utility  of  prayer,  as  a  preparatory 
mean  of  effecting  it ;  let  us,  both  by  avowed  sentiment 
and  practice,  steadily  hold  forth  the  opposite  truths. 
Let  us  openly  testify  to  the  world,  that  in  our  view  it  is 
both  philosophical  and  scriptural  for  dependent  and  de- 
generate creatures  solemnly  and  unitedly  to  own  their 
dependence  and  degeneracy,  and  the  all-sufficient  power 
and  grace  of  their  Creator,  by  imploring  this  needed 
and  promised  influence,  both  for  themselves  and  their 
N  n 


fj44^  ON  PRAYER.  [Bkr.  XlX. 

fellow-men.  Let  us  endeavour  to  convince  all  around 
Its,  that  there  is  no  more  superstition  or  enthusiasm  in- 
resorting  to  prayer,  as  a  medium  of  spiritual  blessings,' 
tiian  in  using  proper  means-  ill  other  cases  to  obtain 
valuable  ends. 

"  To  impress  this  conviction  more  strongly  as  well,  as 
to  give  life  and  success  to  our  prayers,  let  us  follow 
tiiem  M'ith  a  suitable  practice.  Let  none  of  us  take 
refuge  in  this  concert  of  prayer,  as  a  cloak,  or  compen- 
sation, for  allowed  hypocrisy  or  disobedience,  or  a  sub- 
stitute for  personal  reformation  and  holiness.  Let  us- 
prove,  that  we  are  sincere  in  lamenting  the  infidelity  and 
vices  of  the  day,  and  in  praying  for  a  general  reforma- 
tion, by  bewailing  and  correcting,  in  the  first  place,  our 
own  remaining  infidelity  and  transgressions  ;  and  by 
studiously  exhibiting,  in  our  daily  temper  and  conduct, 
that  Christian  piety  and  morality,  which  our  prayers 
seem  to  befriend  and  promote.  Let  us  esteem  this,  as 
among  the  greatest  advantages  of  this  visible  agreement 
in  prayer,  that  it  not  only  gives  new  animation  and  force 
to  the  petitions  of  those,  wlio  engage  in  it,  and  renders 
their  united  supplications  peculiarly  pleasing  and  preva- 
lent with  the  INlost  High  ;  that  it  not  only  greatly  im- 
proves the  Christian  union  and  candour  of  those  various 
denominations,  whom  it  embraces ;  but  also  binds  them 
all  to  exemplary  prudence  and  godUness  in  their  daily 
deportment,  and  urges  them  to  the  most  discreet,  }-et 
vigorous  measures,  to  advance  the  kingdom  of  Christ  in 
the  rising  and  risen  generations  around  them  ;  particu- 
larly in  the  respective  families,  churches,  and  neighbour- 
hoods, with  which  they  are  severally  connected.  It  is 
the  speaker's  ardent  wish  and  prayer,  that  these  happy 
fruits  may  conspicuously  mark  that  seasonable  and  laud- 


S«R.  XIX].  ON  PRAYER.  245 

able  concert  of  devotion,  which  has  once  more  brought 
us  together;  and  that  the  result  of  all  may  be,  a  re- 
markable fulfilment  of  ancient  prophecies  in  the  exten- 
sion of  primitive  Christianity  in  all  its  transcendent  vir- 
tues and  blessings.  In  the  enlivening  liope  of  so  happ^ 
an  issue,  "  Ye,  that  make  mention  of  the  Lord,  keep 
not  silence  ;  and  give  him  no  rest,  till  he  establish  and 
make  Jerusalem  a  praise  in  the  earth." 


Sermon  xx. 


The  Spirit,  Employment,  and  Design  of 
the  Christian  Ministry.* 


Ephesians  iii.  8,  9,  10. 

Unto  me,  ivho  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints^  is  this 
grace  given,  that  I  should  preach  among  the  Gentiles 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;  and  to  make  all  men 
see  what  is  thefelloivship  of  the  mystery,  which  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world  hath  been  hid  in  God,  who 
created  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ :  To  the  intent,  that 
now,  unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly 
places,  might  be  known  by  the  church  the  manifold  wis- 
dom of  God. 

X  ERHAPS  no  passage  of  scripture  gives  a  more 
amiable  and  exalted  view  of  the  spirit,  employment,  and 
design  of  the  Cliristian  ministry,  than  the  words  just 
recited.  The  humble  and  grateful  spirit  of  a  good  min- 
ister is  forcibly  expressed  in  this  remarkable  clause : 
*'  To  me,  who  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints,  is  this 
grace  given."  His  employment  is  siammed  up  in 
preaching  "  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  The 
design  of  his  office  is  to  hold  up,  not  only  to  men  on 
earth,  but  "to  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly 
places"  the  manifold  display  of  Deity  in  the  work  of 
redemption. 

»  Delivered  at  the  Ordinatipn  of  the  Rev.  W.  E.  Channing,  in  Boston, 
June  l5t,  1803. 


Ser.  XX.]      ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.        247 

We  will  attend,  in  tlie  First  place,  to  the  lowly  and 
thankful  spirit,  which  becomes  the  gaspel  minister. 
This  temper  is  peculiarly  required  and  promoted  by  the- 
Christian  revelation,  by  the  leading  complexion  of  its 
facts  and  doctrines,  of  its  precepts  and  blessings.  It  ev- 
er accompanies  and  distinguishes  evangelical  piety  and 
virtue  from  their  first  rise  in  the  human  heart  to  their  fi- 
nal perfection  and  reward.  As  Christianity  is  the  relig- 
ion of  sinners,  so  a  cordial  reception  of  it  must  presup- 
pose and  powerfully  cherish  a  humbling  sense  of  per- 
sonal guilt  and  depravity,  and  a  disposition  to  ascribe 
the  needed  blessings  of  pardon,  holiness,  and  eternal 
life,  to  the  infinite  mercy  of  God,  operating  through  the 
perfect  atonement  of  his  Son.  Accordingly,  the  habit- 
ual views  and  exercises  of  every  real  Christian  harm^o- 
nize  with  the  prayer  of  the  publican,  "God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner;"  with  the  acknowledgment  of  our 
apostle,  "  by  the  grace  of  God  I  am,  what  I  am  ;"  and 
with  the  song  of  the  heavenly  hosts  :  "  Salvation  to  our 
God,  w4io  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb." 

As  the  spirit,  expressed  in  the  text,  characterizes  ev- 
ery penitent  believer,  so  it  eminently  suits  the  profes- 
sion of  a  Christian  minister.  His  official  studies  and  re- 
ligious addresses  constantly  place  before  him  the  awful 
presence  and  majesty,  the  infinite  holiness  and  grace  of 
God,  the  wonderful  condescension  and  sacrifice  of 
Christ,  the  dependent  and  wretched  condition  of  apos- 
tate man,  the  duty  and  importance  of  humble  repent- 
ance and  thankful  praise  on  the  part  of  redeemed  sin- 
ners, and  his  own  peculiar  obligations  to  divine  mercy 
for  making  him  not  only  a  partaker,  but  a  public  herald, 
of  the  gospel  salvation.  Can  we  \\'oncler,  that  these 
combined  ideas  roused  in  the  bosom  of  Paul  the  most 
humble  and  gi'ateful  emotions  ?  Ought  they  not  to  pro- 


248         ON  THE  GHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.       [Ser.XX. 

.duce  similar  effects  on  every  minister?  Can  a  man,  who 
is  a  stranger  to  these  sentiments  and  affections,  be  qual- 
jtled  to  enforce  them  on  others  ?  Can  he  skiltuiiy  and 
tenderly  administer  that  spiritual  medicine,  the  necessi- 
ty and  value  of  which  he  does  not  perceive,  whose  heal- 
ing .and  comforting  efficacy  he  has  never  felt  ?  Can  he 
suitably  lead  the  devotions  of  Christians,  who  has  never 
imbibed  the  gospel  spirit;  whose  heart  has  never  been 
tuned  to  the  harmony  of  Christian  love  and  praise  ?  la- 
short,  the  soul  of  a  minister  must  be  cast  in  the  humble 
jnould  of  Christianity,  before  he  can  relish  and  faithful- 
ly perform  the  condescending  and  self-denying  duties  of 
his  office  ;  before  he  can  readily  become  all  things  to  all 
men,  and  even  take  pleasure  in  instructing,  reproving, 
or  comforting  the  weakest  and  low^est  forms  of  human 
nature.  On  the  altar  of  Christian  humility  he  must  sac- 
rifice that  fondness  for  hunjan  applause,  mental  luxury, 
or  worldly  emolument ;  that  pride  of  literary,  ministeri- 
al, or  moral  eminence ;  that  unfeeling  or  haughty  neg- 
lect of  the  common  people,  which  superior  station, 
knowledge,  and  fame,  assisted  by  human  frailty  or  cor- 
ruption, ai'e  apt  to  inspire.  To  subdue  these  evils,  and 
to  nourish  the  opposite  virtues,  the  Christian  pastor 
must  early  ^nd  deeply  imbibe  the  self-abasing,  yet  enno- 
bling views  presented  in  our  text. 

We  grant,  that  Paul  had  special  reasons  for  adopting 
the  humble  and  admiring  language  before  us.  He  had 
been  a  violent  persecutor  and  blasphemer  of  Christ  and 
his  gospel.  The  sovereign  power  and  mercy  of  the 
JRedeemer  had  siiddenh-  arrested  his-  mad  career,  and 
conferred  on  him,  not  only  the  temper  and  blessedness 
of  a  Christian  believer,  but  the  high  character  of  a  Chris- 
tian apostle.  He  had  been  furnished  for  this  office,  had 
jbeen  supported  and  prospered  in  its  execution,  in  a 


Ser.XX.J      on  the  christian  ministry.         24<i 

manner  truly  extraordinary,  and  probably  unexampled 
CA-en  in  that  age  of  miracles.  The  aiFecting  contrast 
between  his  former  and  present  condition  perpetually 
dwelt  on  his  mind.  It  sunk  him  in  his  own  estimation 
below  the  least  of  saints,  while  it  raised  him  above  the 
highest  in  his  fervent  and  exalted  ascriptions  to  the  grace 
of  God. 

But  while  the  circumstances  and  feelings  of  Paul 
were  in  some  respects  peculiar  ;  wc  must  remark,  that 
the  spirit  of  the  sincere  Christian  and  minister  is  essen- 
tially the  same  in  all,  who  possess  it.  The  most  amia- 
ble temper,  the  best  education,  the  most  improved  intel- 
lect, and  the  greatest  exterior  decorum  and  virtue,  can- 
not raise  their  subjects  dhove  the  necessity  and  obli- 
gation of  evangelical  faith  and  repentance.  And  whoev- 
er cordially  repents  of  sin,  and  embraces  the  gospel,  will 
readily  unite  with  our  apostle  in  esteeming  himself  less 
tiian  the  least  of  all  saints,  and  in  ascribing  all  his  privi- 
leges and  hopes  to  the  riches  of  di%ine  mercy.  It  may 
reasonably  be  expected,  that  these  humble  and  grateful 
emotions  will  keep  pace  v»  ith  his  general  progress  in  re- 
ligious knowledge  and  virtue,  comfort  and  usefulness  ; 
because  his  materials  for  and  incitements  to  them  will  in- 
crease in  this  proportion.  Real,  and  especially  ad\'anc- 
ed  Christians  are  far  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
themselves,  than  they  can  be  with  any  of  their  brethren. 
Their  spiritual  senses  are  particularly  nice  and  tender  in 
discerning  and  feeling  their  own  defects  and  transgres- 
sions. Their  charity  suggests  in  behalf  of  the  offences 
of  others  many  excuses  and  extenuations,  ^vhich  a  strict- 
er knowledge  or  jealousy  of  their  own  characters  dares 
not  apply  to  themselves.  Hence  those  professors  and 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  who  are  truly  eminent  in  their 
profession,  are  generally  distinguished  by  a  modest  and 
charitable  deportment. 


250        ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.XX. 

We  may  add,  the  good  minister  is  nourished  in  hu- 
miUty  and  pious  gratitude,  by  contemplating  his  honour- 
able, sacred,  and  arduous  employment.  He  compares 
his  own  weakness,  impurity,  and  demerit,  with  the  liigh 
nature  and  demands  of  his  station.  And  while  tliis  com- 
parison fills  him  with  ingenuous  shame  and  trembling 
solicitude  ;  it  awakens  thankful  astonishment,  that  God 
should  advance  so  mean  a  creature  to  an  office  so  digni- 
fied ;  that  he  should  select  and  assist  so  feeble  an  instru- 
ment to  accomplish  a  work  so  difficult  and  glorious. 
This  brings  us 

Secondly,  To  consider  the  employment  of  a  Christian 
minister.  It  is  here  expressed  by  "  preaching  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ." 

These  "  unsearchable  riches"  may  denote  the  person- 
al excellencies  of  the  Redeemer,  Thus  understood, 
they  point  us  to  the  wonderful  assemblage  of  divine  and 
human  perfections  in  that  mysterious  Person,  whose 
name  is  Immanucl,  who  is  the  image  and  effulgence  of 
his  Father's  glory,  in  whom  dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead,  to  whom  the  titles  and  attributes,  the  works 
and  honours  of  divinity  are  ascribed  ;  who  yet  was  made 
flesh  and  tabernacled  among  us  ;  who,  amid  the  natural 
infirmities  and  temptations,  exhibited  all  the  virtues  of 
humanity,  in  their  full  and  steady  lustre.  What  treas- 
ures of  majesty  and  meekness,  of  dignity  and  conde- 
scension, of  glory  and  humiiitv,  of  justice  and  mercy, 
are  united  in  his  character  !  In  his  person  and  actions,, 
combined  with  his  discourses,  the  invisible  God  is 
brought  down  to  man,  that  man  might  rise  to  the  true 
knowledge,  imitation,  and  enjoyment  of  God. 

The  "riches  of  Christ"  may  also  include  his  media- 
torial character  and  fulness  ;  his  great  offices  and  works, 
fcs  the  Instructor  and  High  Priest,  the  Ruler  and  Judge 


8JSR.XX.]      ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.         251 

of  the  world.     His  instructions,  as  recorded  in  the  sa- 
cred history,  were   admirably  recommended  by  their 
simplicity  and  authority,  by  their  harmony  and  variety, 
by  their  fulness  and  grandeur.     They  set  before  us  the 
most  interesting  and  sublime  objects,  in  their  native 
majesty,  and  in  the  most  familiar  light.     They  give  us 
the  most  needful  and  satisfactory  information  with  re- 
spect both  to  God  and  ourselves.     They  contain  noth- 
ing, which  is  merely  curious,  puzzling,  or  dry ;  noth- 
ing, which  savours  of  superstition,   or  fanaticism,    of 
learned  subtlety,  or  worldly  policy.     The  truths,  which 
they  unfold,  oblige  and  animate  believers  to  universal 
holiness.     The  morality,  which  they  inculcate,  while  it 
immediately  grows  out  of  these  truths,  embraces  the 
widest  range,  the  noblest  principles  and  offices  of  vir- 
tue.    In  short,  the  doctrine  of  this  divine  teacher,  duly 
entertained,  enriches  both  the  understanding  and  heart ; 
it  exalts  them  into  a  happy  correspondence  with  tiie 
great  objects  presented.    "  Beholding  in"  this  "  glass  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  we  are  changed  into  tlie  same  image 
from  glory  to  glory."     While  the  instructions  of  Christ 
thus  enlighten  and  purify,  his  atonement  brings  u  s  pardon 
and  comfort.     To  a  creature  burdened  with  conscious 
guilt,  and  acquainted  with  the  perfect  character  and  law 
of  his  Maker,  how  congenial,  how  Vvclcome  is  the  Chris- 
tian scheme  of  mediation  !  How  consoling  to  hear,  that 
the  Son  of  God  has  become  the  High  Priest  of  offend- 
ing man  ;  that,  b}'  his  obedience  unto  death,  he  has 
completely  vindicated  and  honoured  the  divine  govern- 
ment, and  procured  the  full  and  everlasting  forgiveness 
of  every  penitent  sinner  ?  It  is  the  part  of  the  evangelical 
preacher  to  state  this  doctrine  in  its  most  simple  and 
practical  form  ;  to  point  out  its  importance  in  the  sys- 
tem of  revelation,  its  correspondence  with  the  present 
o  o 


252         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.     [Ser.  XK 

situation  of  man,  with  the  general  course  of  providence, 
and  with  the  essential  attributes  of  God.     It  becomes 
him  to  show  how  admirably  this  expedient  unite's  the 
pardon  of  relenting  guilt,  and  the  reward  of  defective 
virtue,  with  the  public  condemnation  of  sin,  the  im- 
proved order  of  the  universe,  and  the  most  pure  and  ex- 
alted display  of  divine  glory.     It  becomes  him  to  de- 
fend this  doctrine  from  every  imputation  of  absurdity, 
of  injustice,  or  cruelty,  by  showing,  that  the  Father  ap- 
pointed, and  the  Son  consented,  to  the  death  of  the 
cross,  from  motives  of  the  most  tender,  Avise,  and  com- 
prehensive love  ;  that  the  good  resulting  from  it  will  be 
unbounded  and  eternal;  and  that  the  pardon  of  offend- 
ers  through  this  medium  displays  the  divine  benevo- 
lence in  a  manner,  far  more  extraordinary,   multiplied^ 
and  impressive,  than  if  God  had  cancelled  our  guilt  by 
one  single  and  sovereign  act  of  grace.     Tlie  faithful  in- 
structer  will  also  hold  up  the  intercession  of  Christ  in 
its  scriptural  import  and  beauty.     He  will  show,  that  the 
constant  and  successful  agency  of  this  illustrious  advo- 
cate in  behalf  of  offending  man  greatly  exalts  both  the 
Father  and  Son;  while  it  effectually  humbles  and  en- 
courages behevers  in  their  sincere,  though   imperfect 
acts  of  worship  and  obedience.     With  what  boldness 
may  we  draw  near  to  the  Holy  of  Holies,  when  we  see 
our  persons  represented,  and  our  interests  espoused  by 
this  great  High  Priest !  With  what  humility,  repentance, 
and  awe,  are  we  inspired,  when  we  find,  that  no  less  a 
person  than  the  Son  of  God,  can  give  us  access  to  the 
presence  of  infinite  purity  ! 

This  leads  us  to  observe,  that  the  riches  of  Christ  in 
his  sacerdotal  office,  are  intimately  connected  \vith  his 
regal  authority.  His  mediation  was  designed,  not  to 
countenance,  but  to  condemn  and  extinguish  our  re- 


Ser.  XX.]         on  the  christian  ministry.     253 

hellion  against  the  divine  government.  It  was  intend- 
ed not  to  cancel,  but  to  multiply  and  enforce  our  moral 
obligations  ;  to  give  them  a  commanding  influence  on 
our  tempers  and  lives.  To  accomplish  tliis  purpose, 
and  to  reward  our  Redeemer  for  his  meritorious  humil- 
iation, the  Father  Ijias  invested  him  with  "  all  pov/er  in 
heaven  and  eartli,"  and  in  particular  has  made  him 
*'  Head  over  all  things  to  the  church."  This  mediato.- 
rial  King  has  given  his  subjects  a  perfect  constitution  of 
government  to  direct  their  faith,  to  animate  their  obe- 
dience, and  to  ensure  their  felicity.  He  has  appointed 
officer^  to  interpret  and  enforce  this  constitution.  He 
administers  all  the  affairs  of  providence  for  the  good  of 
his  spiritual  empire.  He  sends  forth  his  Spirit  to  give 
due  effect  to  this  mighty  apparatus,  and  to  render  it 
"  the  power  of  God  to  salvation."  Jiow  pl€;asing  to. 
remark,  that,  while  the  law  of  Christ,  in  its  doctrines, 
prescriptions,  and  motives,  is  wonderfully  fitted  to  de- 
stroy the  power  of  sin,  and  establish  the  interest  of  holi- 
ness, this  provision  is  made  successful  by  an  inward 
and  divine  operation,  vhich  begins  and  matures  in  our 
hearts  the  temper  and  happiness  of  the  sons  of  God  ! 
How  comforting  the  assurance,  that  the  gospel,  like  a 
sacred  leaven,  shall  gradually  pervade  and  assimilate  the 
whole  lump  of  mankind,  till  all  tlie  kingdoms  of  the 
world  are  become  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  his 
Christ !  When  his  church  js  thus  completed,  this  me- 
diatorial Sovereign  will  assume  the  character  of  a  Judge. 
He  will  display  his  divine  power,  discernment,  and  jus- 
tice, in  raising  the  dead,  in  convening  them  before  his, 
tribunal,  in  unfolding  to  public  view  the  moral  charac- 
ter of  each,  in  pronouncing  and  executing  the  final  sen- 
tence, which  dooms  his  enemies  to  hopeless  punish., 
^ent,  and  instates  his  friends  in  the  happiness  and  glp^ 


254         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.XX. 

ry  of  his  eternal  kingdom.  My  brethren,  what  un- 
searchable riches  of  knowledge  and  goodness,  of  merit 
and  faithfulness,  of  divine  energy  and  perseverance, 
are  exhibited  by  our  Redeemer,  in  discharging  these 
high  employments  ?  How  immense  the  blessings,  which 
result  from  their  execution  ! 

Which  brings  us  to  add,  that  "  the  riches  of  Christ" 
refer  to  the  benefits,  which  his  mediation  has  procured, 
and  his  gospel  confers.  These  benefits  include,  not  on- 
ly the  complete  remission  of  past  offences,  but  the  re- 
covered image  and  friendly  intercourse  of  our  Creator, 
with  the  animating  hope,  and  ultimate  possession,  of  a 
blessed  immortality.  They  also  comprise  those  out- 
ward ordinances,  which  sensibly  ratify  these  invisible 
blessings ;  which  assist  our  contemplation,  pursuit,  and 
enjoyment  of  them ;  and  engage  us  to  corresponding 
affections  and  duties.  They  comprehend  the  just  and 
merciful  conditions,  to  which  the  gospel  salvation  is 
annexed ;  together  with  the  offer  and  conveyance  of 
that  divine  influence,  which  enables  us  to  perform 
them.  These  conditions  may  be  summed  up  in  evan* 
gelical  faith,  with  its  genuine  fruits.  The  requirement 
of  this  cordial  and  practical  belief  is  not  a  capricious  or 
arbitrary  demand,  but  a  proper,  needful,  and  gra. 
cious  prescription.  For  this  faith  yields  due  honour 
both  to  God  and  the  Mediator.  It  freely  submits  to 
the  divine  government  and  mercy.  It  gi\^es  the  saving 
truth  an  operative  existence  in  our  minds;  and  thus 
imparts  to  us  its  holy  and  happy  effects.  But  unbelief, 
either  in  speculation,  temper,  or  practice,  implicidy  de- 
nies both  the  Father  and  the  Son.  It  spurns  the  only 
remedy,  which  can  give  health  and  peace  to  the  di^ 
tempered  soul.  Of  course,  it  necessarily  confirms 
the  moral   sickness  and   death   of  the  patient.      In 


Ser.XX.]      on  the  christian  ministry.         255 

this  view,  the  threatening  of  destruction,  which  the 
gospel  denounces  upon  infidels,  is  a  rich  display  of  wis- 
dom, equity,  and  kindness.  It  is  wise  and  just,  as  it 
arms  this  di^'ine  religion  with  sanctions  equal  to  its  im- 
portance. It  is  kind,  as  it  seasonably  warns  offenders  of 
their  danger,  and  compels  them  by  the  great  law  of  self 
preservation  to  escape  from  impending  ruin,  and  to  lay 
hold  on  eternal  life. 

We  have  enumerated  the  leading  topics  of  evangelical 
instruction,  as  denoted  by  the  "  unsearchable  riches  of 
Christ ;"  and  it  may  be  useful  to  add,  that  the  original 
word  here  rendered /?r<?^^/z,  literally  intends  to  evangelize, 
or  to  publish  a  joyful  message.  The  connexion  further 
implies,  that,  to  answer  this  description,  our  preaching, 
or  publication,  must  mainly  centre  in  Christ  and  his 
redemption.  As  Jesus  Christ  is  declared  to  be  *'  the 
chief  corner  stone"  of  the  spiritual  fabric,  which  was 
reared  by  the  prophets  and  apostles ;  so  their  humble 
successors  in  these  last  days  must  build  on  the  same 
foundation.  When  the  Christian  preacher  discourses 
on  natural  religion  and  morality,  he  should  represent 
them  paying  homage  to  Jesus,  as  their  great  Restorer 
and  Exemplar,  and  binding  their  votaries  to  a  new  set 
of  moral  duties,  created  by  the  new  discoveries  of  the 
gospel.  If  he  treat  of  the  ancient  dispensations  of 
providence  and  of  religion,  and  in  particular  of  the  laws 
and  predictions  delivered  to  the  Hebrews  ;  he  should 
hold  up  these  as  either  prefiguring  or  gradually  introduc- 
ing the  promisedSeed,  in  whom  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth  should  be  blessed.  If  he  inculcate  Christian  du» 
ties,  he  should  enforce  them  chiefly  by  evangelical  mo- 
tives. Would  he  rouse  the  secure  ?  Let  him  urge  not 
only  the  purity  and  the  curse  of  the  divine  lav\%  but  the 
awful  display  of  human  guilt  and  infinite  justice  in  the 


256         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.XX; 

death  of  Christ,  and  the  aggravated  doom  incurred  by 
those,  who  neglect  this  great  sahation.  Would  he 
guide  and  encourage  the  anxious  and  desponding  soul  f 
Let  him  hold  up  the  riches  of  the  Saviour,  and  invite 
the  poor,  heavy  laden  sinner  to  come  for  divine  treasures, 
for  spiritual  and  eternal  rest.  Would  he  comfort  and 
invigorate  the  Christian?  Let  him  bring  up  to  view  the 
peculiar  aids,  supports,  and  rewardsv  insured  to  him  by 
the  FAITHFUL  AND  TRUE  WiTNEss.  Li  short,  the 
gospel  is  an  unbounded  treasury,  from  which  the  wise 
and  good  ste'ward  may  dispense  portions  suitable  to  all 
the  varieties,  and  equal  to  all  the  wants  of  reasonable, 
lapsed,  immortal  beings.  The  riches  liere  deposited  are 
indeed  unsearchable.  Their  worth  cannot  be  estimat- 
ed. Their  amount  exceeds  calculation.  As  they 
could  not  be  discovered  by  human  reason,  and  were  but 
faintly  revealed  under  the  Jewish  economy  ;  so  they 
cannot  be  fully  comprehended  by  the  most  ilkiminated 
Christian,  nor  even  by  the  highest  angel.  ^  This  train 
of  thought  brings  us,  in  the 

Third  place,  To  the  design  of  the  gospel  ministry. 
This  design  respects  the  inhabitants  both  of  earth  and 
of  heaven. 

I.  The  immediate  object  of  Christian  preaching  is  the 
instruction  of  mankind,  or,  in  the  language  of  the  text, 
*'  to  make  all  men  see  what  is  the  fello\^'ship  of  the  myste- 
ry, which  froni  the  beginning  of  the  world  hath  been  hid 
in  God."  The  gospel  is  here  styled  a  "mystery"  or 
secret^  because  in  the  early  ages  it  "  was  hid  in  God  ;" 
that  is,  it  \vas  either  ivholly  concealed  in  the  divine 
breast,  or  imparted  only  to  a  fe^v,  or  couched  in  dark 
predictions  and  types.  The  ancient  church  received 
such  hints  of  this  merciful  plan,  as  suited  her  infant  state, 
and  the  wise  preparatory  discipline  under  which  she  was 


Seh.XX.]      on  the  christian  ministry.         257 

placed.  The  great  body  even  of  pious  Hebrews  had 
faint,  and,  in  some  respects,  erroneous  views,  both  of  tlie 
nature  and  designed  extent  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom. 
The  equal  participation  of  uncircumcised  Gentiles  with 
Jews,  in  the  blessings  of  this  kingdom,  was  a  secret,  not 
only  foreign,  but  hostile  to  the  favourite  ideas  and  ex- 
pectations of  the  latter.  When  this  mystery  was  fully 
disclosed,  it  filled  the  apostles  with  wonder,  their  Hebrew 
converts  with  regret,  and  the  Jewish  unbelievers  with 
rage.  Hence  Paul,  who  was  eminently  the  minister  of 
Christ  to  the  Gentile  world,  insists  much  on  this 
generous,  yet  surprising  and  oftensi\'e  topic.  His 
Kberal  mind  exults  in  a  mission,  intended  to  abolish  re- 
ligious distinctions,  and  to  unite  all  nations  into  one 
affectionate  and  happy  fraternity.  He  dwells  with  rap- 
ture on  the  grand  idea  of  bringing  all  men  into  "  the  fel- 
lowship" of  the  gospel,  or  into  a  holy  communion  with 
each  other  under  Jesus  their  common  head.  This  sub- 
lime purpose  and  effect  of  Christianity  he  infers  from  this 
fact,  that  "  God  created  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ." 
As  if  he  should  say,  It  is  reasonable  to  expect,  that  the 
common  Creator  of  Jews  and  heathens  will  be  their  im- 
partial and  benevolent  Saviour. 

Agreeably,  the  merciful  promises,  given  to  Adam  and 
Noah,  were  made  to  the  whole  human  family.  The  di- 
vine covenant  with  Abraham  ensured  spiritual  blessings 
to  all  nations.  The  selection  of  the  Hebrews,  as  the 
peculiar  people  of  Jehovah,  was  a  needful  and  catholic 
provision  for  the  highest  good  of  the  world.  It  render- 
ed that  nation  the  public  keepers,  witnesses,  and  propa- 
gators of  religious  truth,  both  natural  and  revealed.  It 
made  them  instruments  of  preparing  mankind  for  a  per- 
fect and  universal  religion.  It  still  renders  them  au- 
thentic vouchers  to  Christianity,  and  will  hereafter  sig- 


258         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.  XX. 

nally  contribute  to  its  intended  establishment  and  influ- 
ence diroughout  the  gJobe. 

To  caiT}'^  this  grand  device  into  gradual  execution,  is 
the  appropriate  business  of  public  Christian  instructors. 
They  are  to  expound,  confirm,  and  apply  that  great 
"  mystery,"  which  was  early  conceived  and  wrapped 
up  in  the  purpose  of  God,  but  which  the  Son  of  his 
bosom  has  fully  declared.  They  should  unfold  this 
ancient  and  divine  secret  in  terms  so  plain,  that  all  men, 
even  the  lowest,  may  see  it,  or  obtain  such  knowledge 
of  it  as  may  guide  and  mould  their  affections  and  prac- 
tice. The}*  should  guard  against  that  intellectual  van- 
ity or  refinement,  which  would  destroy  the  simplicity, 
the  majesty,  and  force  of  sacred  truth,  by  aitificial  orna- 
ment, or  abstruse  speculation.  They  should  aim,  like 
our  apostle,  not  so  much  to  please  the  elegant,  the  met- 
aphysical, or  the  scientific  few,  as  to  impart  saving  in- 
struction to  all.  To  accomplish  this  effect,  to  convey 
the  doctrines  of  salvation  into  every  understanding  and 
heart,  the  preacher  must  unite  perspicuity  and  energy. 
A  mind  richly  stored  with  evangelical  knowledge  and 
goodness,  must  infuse  light  and  warmth  into  his  dis- 
courses ;  vvhile  his  corresponding  example  must  render 
them  doubly  luminous  and  impressive.  As  the  gospel  is 
intended  to  unite  all  men  in  holy  "fellowship,"  its  min- 
isters should  adjust  their  preaching  and  conduct  to 
this  design.  They  should  point  the  attention  of  their 
hearers  to  those  great  truths  and  duties,  which  form 
the  centre  of  Christian  union.  A  zealous  and  joint  at- 
tachment to  these  should  temper  or  extinguish  that  fire 
of  controversy,  which  di\ided  sentiments  and  jealous 
feelings  about  small  or  doubtful  matters  have  so  often 
inflamed.  It  ill  becomes  the  ministers  of  Christ  to  rcnd^ 
asunder  his  mystical  body,  by  substituting  the  naiTovv 


Ser.XX.]      on  the  christian  ministry.         259 

zeal  of  a  party,  in  the  room  of  that  comprehensive  spirit, 
Mhich  unites  men  to  God,  and  to  one  another.  It  ill 
becomes  them  to  contend,  even  for  essential  truth,  in  a 
manner  unfavourable  to  Christian  love,  and  its  practical 
fruits ;  for  such  contention  injures  both  the  credit  and 
moral  influence  of  truth :  it  disligures  and  endangers  the 
gospel  church,  even  by  those  very  doctrines,  which, 
rightly  entertained,  constitute  her  principal  strength  and 
beauty.  It  is  by  "  speaking  the  truth  in  love,"  and  by 
canying  it  out  into  a  holy  temper  and  practice,  that 
Christians  are  to  grow  up  into  one  compact,  flourishing, 
and  glorious  community. 

Let  us,  then,  to  whom  the  dispensation  of  the  gos- 
pel is  committed,  strive,  by  our  doctrine  and  spirit,  by 
our  united  exertions  and  prayers,  to  make  it  productive 
of  these  blessed  effects.  As  stars  in  the  firmiment  of 
Zion,  let  us  difflise  the  light  of  evangelical  truth,  not 
only  to  the  best  advantage,  but  to  the  widest  extent. 
Let  our  fervent  intercessions  and  labours  never  rest;, 
"  till  all  men^''''  even  the  remotest  climes,  are  brought 
into  the  Christian  "  fellowship  ;"  till  the  whole  earth  is 
filled  with  divine  glory  and  human  bliss.  Nay,  more ; 
let  our  benevolent  views  expand  even  beyond  the  limits 
of  our  species  and  world.      For, 

II.  The  Christian  religion  and  ministry  were  design- 
ed for  the  benefit  of  "  principalities  and  powers  in  heav- 
enly places."  The  gospel  church  and  its  sacred  insti- 
tutions are  mirrors,  which  exhibit  to  superior  intelligen- 
ces, "  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God."  That  man  is  but 
a  link  in  one  mighty  chain  of  being  ;  that  there  is  a  con- 
nexion or  mutual  subserviency  between  him  and  higher 
orders  of  creatures,  analogous  to  the  union  which,  per- 
vades the  \  isible  system,  is  a  sentiment  congruous  to 
reason,  and  established  by  revelation.  Both  the  Old  and 
p  p 


260        ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.  XX. 

New  Testament  introduce  various  ranks  and  countless 
multitudes  of  celestial  spirits,   as  deeply  concerned  in 
the  affairs  of  our  world,  especially  those,  which  relate 
to  the  church.     By  this  intercourse  they  at  once  greatly 
contribute  to  the  common  good,  and  receive  vast  addi- 
tions of  personal  happiness.     While  their  benevolent 
agency   in  the   Messiah's   kingdom   is  an  immediate 
source  of  sublime  and  increasing  delight ;  it  is  attended 
with  new,  progressive  and  beatific  discoveries  of  the  divine 
gloiy.  To  search  out,  toadore,andtoenjoytheperfections 
of  God  in  his  works,  is  their  unceasing  employment  and 
felicity.      The  redemption  of  man,  in  all  its  connexions, 
at  once  exceeds,  illustrates,  and  unites  in  one  perfect 
whole,  the  preceding  and  concurrent  operations  of  Deity. 
It  gi\'es  to  admiring  angels  an  exhibition  of  his  charac- 
ter, more  diversified,  harmonious,  and  complete,  than 
the  volumes  of  nature  and  providence   had  ever  sug- 
gested.    With  what  high  improvement  and  satisfaction 
must  superior  beings  behold  and  enjoy  this  manifesta- 
tion!  The  "  manifold  wisdom,"  presented  in  it,  must 
eminently  seize  their  attention,  enlarge  their  kno^vledge, 
and  exalt  their  devotion.     How  wonderful  must  appear 
that  contrivance,   which  renders  this  little  globe  so  im- 
portant to  the  beauty,  variety,  and  happiness  of  the  uni- 
verse ;    \vhich  forces  even  human  rebellion  and  ruin  to 
swell  the  triumph  of  order,  rectitude,  and  bliss  !    How 
comprehensive  that  A\'isdom,  which  has  erected  so  many 
different  theatres  for  the  display  of  divine  glory  ;  which 
has  adopted  one  form  of  administration   for  the  sinless 
natives  of  heaven,   another  for  its  apostate  citizens,  a 
third  for  disobedient  man  ;  and  which  has  so  combined 
these  diversities,  as  to  make  them  jointly  conduce  to  ulti- 
mate and  general  good  !  How  profound  that  intelligence, 
which,  by  subjecting  the  Lord  of  angels  to  abasement  and 


Ser.XX.]      on  the  christian  ministry.        261 

death,  not  for  their  guilty  brethren,  but  for  a  iovv'er  or- 
der of  sinners,  is  effectually  repairing  the  loss  of  the 
former,  b}'^  tlie  restored  virtue  and  felicity  of  the  latter ; 
and  which,  by  this  expedient,  lias  provided  for  the  incor- 
poration of  redeemed  men  and  angelic  beings  in  one 
confirmed  and  glorious  community ! 

It  is  important  to  add,  that  these  heavenly  spirits 
derive  their  knowledge  of  this  "  manifold  wisdom"i 
chiefly  from  the  gospel  dispensation.  It  was,  in  a  great 
degree,  veiled  e\en  from  them,  till  it  was  revealed  to  the 
apostles,  and  by  their  preaching  imparted  to  the  world.. 
These  invisible  ministers  of  Christ  and  his  church  gaiu-..^ 
ed  a  clear  insight  into  this  mj^stery,  by  witnessing  his 
life  and  death,  his  resurrection  and  ascension  ;  by  see- 
ing ancient  types  and  prophecies  fulfilled  and  illuminated 
by  these  events  ;  by  hearing  the  import  of  diese  facts 
explained  by  authorized  Christian  teachers  ;  and  by  ob-. 
serving  their  transcendent  and  divine  effects  on  the  hu- 
man character  and  condition.  These  sources  of  infor- 
mation reflected  new  lustre  on  the  several  dispensations 
of  God  to  mankind.  They  .exhibited  the  whole  train 
of  divine  conduct  from  Adam  to  Christ,  as  one  harmo- 
nious, yet  diversified  system,  leading  by  the  nicest  and 
surest  steps  to  a  glorious  consummation.  While  they 
elucidated  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God  in  his  former 
proceedings,  they  especially  unfolded  his  deep  and  be- 
nevolent design  in  so  long  deferring  a  clear  and  general 
discovery  of  his  merc}\  Wise  and  good  spirits,  both 
on  earth  and  in  heaven,  now  see  with  delight  the  beauty 
of  this  arrangement.  They  see,  that  in  this  way  the 
\\'orld  was  trained  up  by  gentle  degrees  for  this  sublime 
revelation;  that  it  receives  solemn  attestation  and  digni- 
ty from  a  long  and  vast  apparatus,  going  before  and  ter- 
minating in  it ;  that  a  full  experiment  had  been  made  of 


262        ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Ser.XX. 

human  philosophy  and  government,  of  natural  theology 
afid  virtue ;  that  Christ  did  not  appear  till  the  pure  relig- 
ion and  morrJs,  taught  in  the  first  ages,  were  lost  be- 
yond hope  of  recovery ;  nor,  until  the  union,  peace, 
and  learning  of  the  world  had  opened  a  door  for  the  easy 
and  general  difilision  of  his  gospel ;  in  short,  that  he  came 
at  the  precise  period,  when  the  political,  moral,  and  re- 
ligious state  of  the  globe  invited,  yea,  cried  aloud  for  a 
gracious,  supernatural,  and  universal  dispensation. 
They  also  beheld  this  merciful  religion  wisely  adapted 
to  all  the  exigences  of  those  to  whom  it  is  offered.  Fir- 
ed with  these  discoveries,  the  holy  and  benevolent  angels 
fervently  sing,  in  concert  with  the  redeemed,  the  new 
song  of  the  Lamb;  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain,  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and 
strength,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  blessing."  Yea, 
so  immense  is  the  sum  of  glory  to  God,  and  of  happi- 
ness to  the  moral  creation,  arising  from  the  work  and 
the  knowledge  of  human  redemption,  that  every  crea- 
ture in  the  universe  is  introduced,  as  joining  the  con- 
cert of  praise,  and  saying,  "  Blessing,  and  honour,  and 
glor}^  and  power  be  unto  him,  that  sittethon  the  throne, 
and  to  the  Lamb,  forever  and  ever." 

Our  subject  in  review  furnishes  a  satisfactory  reply 
to  a  frequent  suggestion  either  of  humble  diffidence,  or 
of  cavilling  infidelity.  The  lowl}'-  and  fearful  mind  is 
sometimes  ready  to  view  the  gospel  as  incredible,  be- 
cause it  imfolds  riches  of  condescending  love  so  great 
and  wonderful,  as  to  confound  rather  than  encourage  be- 
lief, especially  when  contrasted  with  the  mean  and  ill- 
deserving  Jfliaracter  of  their  object.  The  sceptical  phi- 
losopher is  likewise  apt  to  view  it,  as  a  strong  objection 
to  Christianity,  that  it  exhibits  the  Deity  lavishing  his 
best  treasures  on  our  inconsiderable  world,  which  is 


Ser,  XX.]      ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.        265 

but  an  atom  in  the  intelligent  universe.  These  diffi- 
culties are  easily  removed,  by  observing,  that  if  it  was 
liot  below  the  dignity  of  God  to  create  all  things  by  Je- 
sus Christ,  it  is  still  less  below  him  to  redeem  many 
millions  of  his  rational  creatures  by  the  same  glorious 
Person,  and  thus  to  recover  them  to  that  moral  perfec- 
tion, in  which  his  own  dignity  and  happiness  consist. 
Man,  though  comparatively  mean,  rises  to  inconeeiva- 
ble  importance,  when  viewed  in  his  relations  to  the  uni- 
verse and  eternity.  As  he  possesses  a  soul  capable  of 
endless  advances  in  knowledge,  usefulness,  and  bliss  ; 
so  his  connexions  with  other  beings,  according  to  scrip- 
ture and  rational  probability,  render  the  scheme  of  his 
recovery  a  source  of  unbounded  improvement  and  joy. 
What  though  the  immediate  scene  and  objects  of  this 
redemption  be  low  and  obscure  ?  This  circumstance 
only  heightens  the  splendour  of  redeeming  power  and 
wisdom,  condescension  and  grace  ;  just  as  the  poverty 
and  weakness  of  the  Saviour  and  his  early  disciples  gave 
new  evidence  and  glory  to  his  religion.  Was  it  not 
highly  worthy  of  the  Supreme  Ruler,  not  only  to  reclaim 
an  apostate  world,  but  to  reunite  it  to  his  holy  empire, 
and  to  render  this  union  a  mean  of  eternal  praise  to 
himself,  and  good  to  the  universe  ?  Thus,  sound  phi- 
losophy, by  enlarging  in  our  minds  the  intellectual  cre- 
ation, enhances  the  importance,  and  of  course  the  credi- 
bility of  the  Christian  redemption. 

While  these  great  ideas  dispel  the  mists  of  unbeliev- 
ing doubt  and  sophistry,  they  furnish  gospel  ministers 
with  the  noblest  incitements  to  zeal  and  magnanimity. 
What  though  their  office  be  despised,  and  their  mes- 
sage opposed,  by  the  secret  or  open  enemies  of  that 
God,  whose  government  and  mercy  they  recommend, 
and  of  that  Sa^'iour,  whose  unsearchable  riches  they 


264         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Seb.XX. 

preach  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  animate  and  console  them, 
that  all  heaven  is  on  their  side  ;  that  celestial  principali- 
ties and  powers  are  their  brethren  and  fellow  labourers; 
that  they  are  acting  with  and  for  the  universal  church, 
the  holy  creation,  and  the  common  Head  and  Father  of 
both  ?  Shall  it  not  comfort  us,  that  every  instance  of 
our  fidelity  and  success,  every  repenting  sinner,  every 
improved  saint,  who  ever  is  converted  or  edified  by 
our  ministry,  creates  new  joy  both  in  heaven  and  earth, 
and  brings  additional  honour  to  the  name  and  kino-dom 
of  our  Lord  ?  How  sublime  is  the  prospect  of  that  day, 
%vhen  all  the  faithful  ministers  and  hearers  of  the  gospel 
shall  be  assembled  together,  and  form  one  great  me- 
dium to  reflect  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  his  Son, 
on  admiring  kindred  spirits,  and  at  once  to  excite  and 
assist  their  eternal  praises  !  That  -a  e  may  share  in  the 
triumph  of  that  day,  let  us  explain  and  recommend  the 
gospel  of  Christ  with  such  fidelity,  clearness,  and  force, 
that  all  men  within  our  reach  may  have  the  best  advaur 
tages  to  see,  and  the  strongest  motives  to  embrace  it, 

These  sentiments,  dear  Sir,  are  addressed  to  you 
with  peculiar  tenderness  and  ardour.  What  lowly,  yet 
elevated  feelings  must  they  rouse  in  your  bosom  at  this 
affecting  moment !  If  Paul,  that  unrivalled  minister  of 
Christ,  was  humbled  to  the  dust  by  the  greatness  of  his 
oifice,  and  by  personal  unworthiness  and  insufficiency; 
what  reason  have  we  to  be  abased  by  similar  views  ? 
Your  entrance  on  this  employment,  and  your  perform- 
ance of  its  duties,  v\  ill,  I  trust,  cherish  a  solemn  impres- 
sion of  that  human  apostasy,  and  divine  merc\ %  \yhicl'| 
originated  the  scheme  of  redemption.  You  Vv'ill  study 
and  unfold  this  scheme  with  a  deep  sense  of  your  own 
concern  in  its  great  discoveries  and  requirements.- 
This  manner  of  beginning  and  conducting  your  minis- 


JJer.XX.]      on  the  christian  ministry.         265 

try  will  render  it  ii  constant  school  of  humility,  and  this 
humble  temper  will  accelerate  the  growth  of  every  in- 
tellectual and  virtuous  accompliyhment.  It  will  open 
your  mind  to  truth,  and  make  you  ingenuous,  devout, 
and  industrious  in  acquiring  it.  It  will  fill  your  heart, 
your  ministry,  and  life,  as  it  did  those  of  St.  Paul,  with 
a  constant  stream  of  piety  and  charity,  with  exemplary 
modesty  and  contentment,  patience  and  equanim- 
ity, amid  the  trying  vicissitudes  of  your  present 
condition.  The  spirit  I  now  recommend,  far  frora 
leading  to  base  timidity  or  servile  compliance,  will 
nourish  true  dignity  and  independence  of  chai'acter. 
It  will  preserve  you  from  the  meanness  of  selfish  ambi- 
tion and  vanity.  It  ^vill  enable  }ou  to  enjoy  popular 
admiration,  and  even  the  esteem  of  the  wise  and  great, 
with  a  sober  and  thankful  mind,  and  to  improve  them, 
as  means  of  more  extensive  good. 

Your  heart,  I  doubt  not,  gratefully  admires  the  con- 
descending grace  of  our  Lord  in  calling  you  thus  early 
into  his  public  service  under  circumstances  so  highly 
auspicious.  You  will  show  your  gratitude  for  these  to- 
kens of  his  favour,  by  affectionately  publishing  his  un- 
searchable riches,  by  tenderly  adjusting  your  public  and 
private  addresses  to  the  several  descriptions  of  your  hear- 
ers, and  by  using  every  effort  of  prudent  zeal  to  bring  all 
men  into  the  sacred  fellowship  of  the  gospel.  Your 
concern  for  the  best  interest  of  mankind,  your  knowl- 
edge of  the  Christian  system  and  reverence  for  its  di- 
vine Author,  will  forbid  you  to  accommodate  its  high 
discoveries,  duties,  and  sanctions,  to  the  taste  of  modern 
pride,  or  licentiousness,  or  unbounded  liberality.  They 
will  constrain  you  to  insist  not  only  on  the  external  de- 
cences  of  a  civil,  or  occasionally  solemn  deportment, 
but  on  a  radical  repentance  of  sin,  a. cordial  trust  in  the 


266         ON  THE  CHRISTIAI^  MINISTRY.      [Ser.XX. 

Saviour,  a  universal  purity  of  heai't  and  conversation,  as 
indispensable  conditions,  and  even  ingredients,  of  the 
gospel  salvation. 

May  you,  Sir,  largely  imbibe  the  generous  and  exalt, 
ed  views  of  the  text.  May  you  centre  your  glory,  pleas- 
\u-e,  and  wealth,  not  in  the  splendid  and  amusing  trifles 
of  this  world,  but  in  resembling  those  great  spirits,  Vv'ith 
whom  you  are  called  to  act  in  reuniting  men  to  God  and 
one  another,  and  thus  extending  the  triumph  of  divine 
benevolence  and  created  good.  By  a  steady  contempla- 
tion and  pursuit  of  these  objects,  may  you  be  qualified 
to  mingle  in  human  society,  with  a  safe  and  dignified, 
yet  easy  affability.  May  your  intercourse  U'ith  men, 
like  that  of  your  Master,  be  open  and  free,  yet  pure  and 
instructive.  May  it  convince  the  most  cheerful  circles, 
that  while  the  good  Christian  and  minister  can  enjoy, 
with  temperance  and  even  refinement,  the  decent  pleas- 
ures of  this  life,  his  chief  satisfaction  and  excellence 
spring  from  a  far  higher  source.  May  your  pastoral  un- 
ion with  this  people  be  long  and  happy  !  May  they  and 
their  beloved  offsprin.g,  and  even  many  of  their  unborn 
posterity,  be  your  hope  and  comfort  in  this  world,  and 
your  eternal  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Respected  brethren  of  this  church  and  society,  we  gi'eet 
you  on  tliis  joyful  occasion.  We  shared  with  you 
in  the  affliction  occasioned  by  the  sudden  death  of  your 
much  esteemed  Belknap,  and  by  the  early  resignation 
of  his  wortliy  successor,  ^^"hilc  Ave  offer  our  affectionate 
and  devout  wishes  for  his  conlirmed  health,  and  long 
protracted  usefulness  to  the  church  of  Christ,  we  bless 
God  for  his  distinguishing  goodness  in  fixing  your 
speedy  and  united  choice  on  a  person,  whose  gifts  and 
virtues  promise  great  ministerial  usefulness  and  honour. 
That  this  promise  ma}'  be  reaUzed,   we  ask  for  him  not 


Ser.XX.3     on  the  christian  ministry.         267 

only  your  continued  esteem,  but  your  tender  and  liberal 
indulgence.  Though  he  is  soon  to  be  commissioned ,  as 
a  humble  fellow- worker  with  celestial  principalities  and 
powers,  yet  he  is  far  from  possessing  at  present  their 
strong  and  immortal  constitution.  His  delicate  health 
and  youthful  age,  combined  with  his  conspicuous  station, 
his  arduous  service,  and  tlie  weight  of  public  expectation, 
plead  both  with  him  and  with  you  for  the  care  Of  his  val- 
uable life,  as  a  mutual  and  sacred  dut}^  They  also  so- 
licit the  animating  concurrence  of  your  Christian  prayers 
and  examples,  of  your  steady,  solemn,  and  edifying  at- 
tendance on  his  ministry,  of  your  best  exertions  in  your 
several  connexions  and  employments,  to  support  the 
honour  and  extend  the  influence  of  vital  religion.  By 
this  conduct  you  will  cheer  and  strengthen  his  anxious 
mind,  and  secure  to  yourselves  the  gracious  presence 
and  benediction  of  God.  Brethren,  may  your  hearts  be 
comforted,  being  knit  together  in  love.  May  your  so- 
ciety, with  its  new  pastor,  cemented  and  adorned  by 
gospel  faith  and  charity,  become  a  spiritual  "building 
fitly  framed  together,  and  gro\ving  up  to  a  holy  temple  in 
the  Lord." 

Men  and  brethren  of  this  numerous  assembly :  If  it  be 
the  office  and  glory  of  ministers  to  publish  the  mystery 
of  Christ,  it  is  your  corresponding  duty  and  privilege  to 
receive  and  obey  it.  To  you  as  well,  as  to  diem,  is 
committed  a  trust  of  the  most  solemn,  extensive,  and 
lasting  import.  The  minds  of  many  at  this  day  are  so 
filled  with  the  present  and  political  advantages  resulting 
from  Christianity,  that  they  seem  to  forget  its  high  origin, 
intention,  and  issue.  Some  are  even  willing  to  consigu 
to  the  clergy  the  exclusive  honour  of  that  temporal  good, 
which  religious  institutions  promote ;  for  they  will  not 


268         ON  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTRY.      [Seu.XX. 

lend  them  the  weight  of  their  uniform  example  and  in- 
^fiiiencc.  But  be  not  deceived;  as  the  gospel  came 
from  God,  so  its  leading  object  is  to  train  you  for  that 
glorious  and  immortal  community,  of  which  he  is  the 
head.  This  end  cannot  be  attained,  unless  )- ou  hciutily 
comply,  and  steadily  co-operate,  with  the  Christian  sys- 
tem. IwCt  this  serious  occasion  direct  your  views  to  that 
far  more  solemn  period,  when  all  the  little  interests  of 
time  shall  be  lost  in  the  momentous  scenes  of  eternity. 
*'  Seeing,  then,  that  all  these  things  shall  be  dissolved, 
Vvhat  manner  of  persons  ought  }'e  to  be  in  all  holy  con^ 
versation  and  godliness !"  *■'  The  Lord  grant"  to  you 
and  mc,  '■'■  that"  we  "  may  find  mrercy  of  the  Lord  in 
that  day  r"  that  we  may  be  humble  monuments  of  his 
praise,  "  \\hen  he  shall  come  to  be  glorified  in  his  saints, 
and  to  be  admired  in  all  them  tliat  believe^" 


©ennon  xxL 


The  Benefits  of  Affliction. 


H£BREW5    x.ii.    9,    lOo 

Furthermore^  lue  han^e  had  fathers  of  our  fleshy  ivho  cor- 
rected us,  and  we  gaue  them  renierence :  shall  %ve  net 
much  rather  be  in  subjection  to  the  Father  of  spirits^ 
and  Ihe  ?  For  they  eerily  for  a  few  days  chastened  us 
after  their  own  pleasure  ;  but  he,  for  our  profit,  that 
we  might  be  partakers  of  his  Jioliness. 


w 


HAT  instnictive  and  soothing  words  are  these  to 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  affliction !  Do  the  very  Hght 
and  feelings  of  nature  teach  us  to  receive  the  corrections 
of  the  fathers  of  our  flesh,  our  rneaner  and  mortal  part, 
with  reverence,  with  love,  with  a  quiet  submission  to  their 
authority,  wisdom,  and  benevolence,  in  this  salutary  dis- 
cipline ?  And  shall  we  not  much  rather  be  in  subjection 
to  the  Father  of  spirits,  the  parent  of  our  nobler  and  im- 
mortal part,  the  author  of  our  spiritual  and  divine  life, 
by  which  we  bpcome  his  children  in  the  highest  and  hap- 
piest sense  ?  Shall  we  not  receive  his  paternal  correc- 
tions with  dutiful  respect,  with  a  hearty  submission  to 
his  will  and  design  in  them  ?  Shall  we  not  thus  be  in^ 
subjection,  fl:;zr//iw.^  Yea,  live  in  the  noblest  sense.  By 
tliis  submission  to  our  Father  in  heaven,  we  shall  be  im- 
proved and  carried  forward  in  a  holy  and  heavenly  life, 
and  gi-adually  refined  and  matured  for  die  life  of  angels 


270  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.       [SEn.XXI. 

and  perfected  spirits  in  glory.  For,  as  the  apostle  pro- 
ceeds, "  I'hey  verily  for  a  few  days  chastened  us  ;"  that 
is,  diir  ing  our  puerile  years,  or  in  order  to  our  good 
behaviour  and  welfare  during  this  short  and  dying  life ; 
"after  their  own  pleasure;"  according  to'  their  falli- 
ble,  and  frequently  erroneous  judgment ;  and  some- 
times according  to  their  capricious  humoiu',  or  hasty 
ungoverned  passions  ;  whence  it  happened  that  their 
chastisements  were  not  always  strictly  just ;  either  pro- 
portioned to  our  desert,  or  adapted  to  our  real  ben- 
efit: "  but  He  for  our  profit;"  that  we  may  learn  and 
practise  the  most  beneficial  lessons  ;  which  are  all  sum- 
med up  in  this,  "  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holi- 
ness ;"  of  that  hohness  of  which  he  is  himself  tlie  au- 
thor and  pattern  ;  the  centre  and  end  ;  and  in  which  he 
supremely  delights. 

The  words  thus  explained  present  a  train  of  excisllent 
ideas,  which  are  always  seasonable  and  useful  to  crea- 
tures in  our  situation,  surrounded  with  so  many  scenes 
of  calamity  and  distress  ;  but  which  are  peculiarly  sea- 
sonable at  this  juncture,  when  the  Father  of  our  spiHts 
has  seen  fit  to  visit  us  with  a  rapid  succession  of  awful 
and  grievous  dispensations.*  For,  M'ithin  the  space  of 
less  than  fourteen  days,  he  has  stripped  this  Society  of 
four  of  its  members  ;  all  of  whom,  except  the  last,  were 
cut  down  in  the  prime,  or  the  midst  of  life  ;  and,  in  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  has  called  a  considerable  number  of 
families  in  this  place,  within  that  compass  of  time,  to 
bury  an  aged  parent  and  brother,  who  had  spent  some 
part  of  his  life  in  the  bosom  of  this  parish,  and  at  length 
expired  on  its  borders.  So  quick  a  series,  and  so  great 
a  crowd  of  bereavements,  by  which  no  less  than  tivelve 
distinct  families  in  this  place  arc  at  once  mourning  the 
deaths  of  very  near  relations,  has,  1  think,  never  been 

'*  This  discoui'se  was  preached  Mar.  28,  1790, 


Ser.  XXL]       B£n£FITS  of  AFFLICTION.  ^71 

exceeded,  nor  more  than  once  equalled,  since  my  con- 
nexion with  the  society.  And  can  we  suppose,  that  so 
many  successive  strokes  of  our  heavenly  Father's  rod 
have  no  important  meaning?  Reason  as  well,  as  scrip- 
ture, forbids  the  idea.  No,  my  fellow  mortals  and  fel- 
low mourners,  our  dying  and  dead  friends  are  kind 
messengers  to  us  from  our  infinitely  wise  and  good 
Father ;  or,  as  the  poet  happily  expresses  it, 

"  Are  angels  sent  on  errands  full  of  love  ; 
For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die  ; 
And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die  in  vain  ?'* 

Let  US,  therefore,  in  the  further  prosecution  of  this 
subject,  attend  to  some  of  the  errands  on  which  these 
messengers  are  sent ;  or,  in  other  words,  consider  In  Vvhat 
respects  those  fatherly  chastisements,  Avhich  God  lays 
upon  us  in  the  death  of  our  friends,  are  designed  and 
adapted  for  our  profit.  The  text  indeed  speaks  of  divine 
corrections  in  general  ;  and  it  must  be  granted,  that  all 
God's  afflictive  visitations  have  the  same  general  lan- 
guage, the  same  kind  and  benevolent  tendency  and  de- 
sign ;  they  are  all  calculated  to  embitter  sin  to  us,  to 
mortify  our  pride,  vanity,  and  worldly  affection  ;  to 
rouse  up  our  minds  to  a  just,  deep,  enlarged,  and  most 
salutaiy  train  of  thought ;  and,  in  a  word,  to  exercise 
and  brighten  the  whole  circle  of  Christian  graces  ;  par- 
ticularly faith,  patience,  humility,  submission,  supreme 
love  to  God,  and  trust  in  him. 

Let  me  further  premise,  that  the  deaths  of  our  fellow 
men  in  general,  where  there  is  no  special  tie  of  kindred, 
of  friendship,  or  even  of  acquaintance  to  unite  us  to  them, 
hold  up  very  profitable  instructions  to  our  minds ;  and 
every  \A^ise  and  pious  observer  v\ill  reap  some  improve- 
ment from  them.  He  will  learn  more  and  more  of  the 
vanity  of  man,  even  in  his  best  estate:   he  will   grow 


272  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.       [Ser.XXI. 

more  humble,  and  dependent  on  the  eternal  God  :  he 
will  read  die  dreadful  evil  of  sin  on  every  coffin  and  eve- 
ry tombstone :  he  \vi\\  feel  himself  called  and  roused 
by  every  death  he  witnesses,  to  prepare  for  his  own, 
and  to  put  £very  thing  in  the  best  readiness  for  his  sol- 
emn entrance  into  the  eternal  world.  And  if  e^-ery  in- 
stance of  human  mortality  is  thus  pregnant  with  rich 
profit  to  the  attentive  mind,  much  more  those,  which 
strike  nearest  to  our  hearts,  which  tear  from  us  our 
dearest  lovers,  friends,  and  acquaintance  i 

Let  us  survey  a  number  of  particulars,  in  which  the 
removal  of  these  is  calculated,  and  may  be  improved, 
for  our  benefit.     And 

First,  It  shows  us  the  insufficiency  and  emptiness 
of  the  most  beloved  and  valuable  creature  comforts^ 
To  render  this  observation  more  impressive,  let  mc 
instance  in  some  of  those  connexions,  which  death  has 
lately  broken  asunder.  Some  of  you  have  lost  a  son  in 
the  bud  of  childhood,  or  the  flower  and  glory  of  youth. 
None,  but  the  fond  hearts  of  parents  can  tell,  how  dear, 
how  interesting,  how  transporting  these  comforts  are ; 
how  they  twine  about  our  heart-strings,  and  engross 
that  aftection  and  dependence,  which  ai-e  due  only  to 
the  Being  of  beings.  And  none  but  the  parental  bosom 
can  tell  how  it  tears  the  very  sou!,  M'hen  God  roots  up 
these  tender  plants,  and  withers  the  blossom  from  w  hich 
we  fondly  expected  such  rich  and  pleasant  fruit! 
Where  is  now  your  delight,  your  hope,  your  towering 
fabric  of  expectation,  ye  bereaved,  mourning  parents? 
Alas  !  buried  in  the  same  coffins  and  graves  w  ith  your 
departed  children  !  What  a  lesson  is  here  of  creature 
emptiness  !  Some  of  you  have  lost  a  beloved  partner,  a 
bosom  friend,  who  was  your  helper  and  your  suppoit 
under  the  daily  cares  and  difficulties  of  life  ;   your  sec- 


SfcR.  XXL]       BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.  273 

Olid  self,  to  divide  your  sorrows  and  double  your  joys  ; 
and  with  tender  and  faithful  assiduity  to  promote  your 
interest  and  comfort.     But  God,  by  removing  this  prop, 
is  teaching  you,  in  the   most  forcible  manner,   what  a 
weak  support,  what  a  poor  helper,  what  a  feeble,  short 
lived  friend  this  is  on  which  you  have  so  fondly  leaned  I 
Others  of  you  have  lost  a  parent,  who  was  the  guide,  the 
counsellor,   the  guardian,  of  your  younger  years  !    but 
death  is   now  teaching  you  the  insufficiency  of  such  a 
guide  and  patron,  who  has  left  you  in  the  midst  of  your 
journey,   through   this  dark  and    perilous  wilderness. 
Others  have  lost  a  beloved  brother ;    and  God,  by  this 
dispensation,  is  teaching  you,  that  the  ties  and  sweets  of 
natural  brotherhood  and  friendship  are  a  very  scanty, 
precaiious  foundation  on  which  to  build  solid,  permanent 
happiness.      Thus  the  deaths  of  any  near  and  much 
loved  friends  proclaim,  with  a  ver}^  loud  and  affecting 
voice,  the  vanity  of  all  created  comforts,  and  v\am  us  iii 
the  language  of  the  poet, 

Beware  what  eartU  calls  happiness  :   beware 

All  joys,  but  those  that  never  can  expire. 

Lean  not  on  earth  ;  'twill  pierce  thee  to  the  heart  ; 

A  broken  reed  at  best  ;  but  oft  a  spear  ; 

On  its  sharp  point  peace  bleeds,  and  hope  expires. 

IL  The  death  of  our  friends  is  calculated  to  lead, 
yea,  drive  us  to  a  more  immediate  and  constant  depend- 
ence on  God.  The  stream  is  dried  up  in  order  to  force 
us  back  to  the  fountain.  These  twinkling  stars  set  in 
darkness,  in  order  to  make  us  prize  and  seek  the  beams 
of  the  Sun  of  righteousness.  These  earthly  idols  are 
turned  out  of  Our  hearts,  to  make  room  for  the  King  of 
glory,  the  sovereign  beauty  and  good,  to  enter  and  fill 
them.  While  our  friends  ^\'ere  alive  and  flourishing 
around  us,  we  were  apt  to  trust  in  and  live  upon  them  j 


27i  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.       [Ser.XXL 

to  rest  as  it  were  our  whole  weight  upon  them ;  to  make 
them  our  refuge  and  high  tower,  our  sun  and  our 
shield.  But  when  death  comes  and  beats  down  tliis 
tower,  and  breaks  this  shield  to  pieces,  and  turns  this 
feeble  sun  into  darkness,  then  we  feel  a  kind  of  necessi- 
ty of  looking  out  for  some  better  refuge ;  of  looking  and 
fiying  to  God,  as  our  sun  and  our  shield  ;  then  the  atten- 
tive and  pious  mind  \\  ill  eagerly  repair  to  the  Bible,  the 
fountain  of  divine  consolations,  which  flow  in  that  bless- 
ed volume,  and  will  feel  a  new,  a  seasonable  relief,  and 
delight  in  surveying  those  kind,  condescending  charac- 
ters and  relations,  which  God  and  his  Son  have  there 
assumed,  for  the  comfort  of  his  people  in  all  their  vari- 
ous distresses. 

For  instance  ;  when  ^^e  lose  an  earthly  parent,  with 
what  pleasure  will  the  thoughtful  and  serious  mind,  in 
such  a  circumstance,  read,  and,  as  it  were,  cling  to  tliese 
words  of  the  psalmist ;  "  When  my  father  or  my  mother 
forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up."  Or  when 
the  Christian  loses  the  dear  companion  of  his  life,  with 
what  eagerness  and  satisfaction  does  he  fiy  into  the 
arms  of  Jesus,  as  a  bosom  friend,  a  husband,  a  com- 
panion, who  can  never  fail  him  !  And  in  the  loss  of  a 
natural  brother,  what  pleasure  is  there  in  the  thought, 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  become  the  natural,  sympathizing 
brother  of  man,  by  partaking  in  our  nature  and  sorrows, 
and  offers  to  become  our  spiritual  brother  by  regenerat- 
ing and  adopting  grace  !  In  short,  the  loss  of  any  dear, 
earthly  connexion,  is  powerfully  adapted,  as  a  mean  to 
make  us  prize,  and  seek,  and  secure,  a  spiritual, 
indissoluble  connexion  with  the  infinite  God  and  his  di- 
vine Son,  in  whom  we  may  regain,  to  unspeakable  advan- 
-  tage,  the  endearments  and  sweets  of  all  those  relations 
and  ties  of  love,  which  death  has  broken,  or  can  dissolve. 


Ser.  XXL]       BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.  275 

III.  The  removal  of  dear  friends  calls  to  an  im- 
portant trial  of  our  lov^e  to  God,  and  submission  to  his 
sovereignty.  When  God  tears  from  our  arms  and  our 
hearts  some  favourite  creature,  he  hereby  practically  puts 
the  same  question  to  us,  which  Christ  did  to  Peter ; 
"  Lovest  thou  me  ?  lovest  thou  me  more  than  these  crea- 
ture delights  ?  Art  thou  willing  to  resign  them  at  my 
call  ?  Thou  hast  called  me  thy  Lord  and  Sovereign  ;  I 
am  now  come  to  bring  thy  sincerit}''  to  the  test.  Art 
thou  willing  I  should  be  sovereign  in  this  instance  ? 
Canst  thou  give  up  thy  dearest  comforts  to  me — to  my 
absolute  disposal  ?  I  gave  up  my  Son  to  death  for  thee  ; 
and  hast  tliou  any  thing  so  near  and  dear  to  thee,  as  my 
Son  was  to  me  ?" 

And  now,  ye  bereaved  mourners,  what  answer  do  your 
hearts  give  to  these  divine  questions  ?  Do  you  find,  up- 
on trial,  that  you  really  love  God  and  his  will  above  all 
things,  so  that  you  can  surrender  any  thing  when  his 
pleasure  and  gloiy  demand  it  ?  If  so,  what  a  comfortable, 
what  a  glorious  example  is  hereby  exhibited  of  your 
gracious  sincerity !  an  example  which  at  once  greatly 
honours  God,  edifies  and  strengthens  good  men,  pre- 
sents matter  of  conviction  to  the  wicked  as  well,  as  affords 
great  satisfaction  and  benefit  to  yourselves.  There  is  no 
frame  of  mind  so  sweet  and  so  reasonable,  as  a  cheer- 
ful and  entire  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God.  And 
this  salutary  lesson  is  to  be  chiefly  learned  in  the  school 
of  affliction.  And  perhaps  no  kind  of  affliction  is  better 
fitted  to  teach  it,  tfian  this.  In  many  other  calamities 
there  is  such  a  mixture  of  human  interposition,  that  we 
are  ready  to  imagine  we  may  be  allowed  to  complain, 
and  to  chide  a  little ;  and,  while  we  feel  a  mixture  of 
indignation  against  the  instrument,  we  are  apt  to  forget 
the  great  First  Cause  and  Disposer  of  our  trials.  But 
R  r 


276  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.       [Ssk.  XXI. 

here  it  is  so  evidently  his  hand,  that  we  must  refer  it  to 
him ;  and  it  will  appear  daiing  impiety  to  qiiairel  at 
what  is  done.  In  other  instances,  v\e  can  at  least- flatter 
ourselves  with  hope,  that  the  calamity  may  be  diverted, 
or  the  enjoyment  recovered :  but  here,  alas !  there  is  no 
such  hope ;  for  the  last  fatal  stroke  is  irrecoverably  giv- 
en ;  so  that  opposition  is  vain ;  and  a  forced  submission 
gives  but  little  rest  to  the  mind  :  a  cordial  acquiescence 
in  the  divine  will  is  the  only  thing  in  the  w  hole  world,, 
that  can  ease  the  struggling  heart,  and  restore  it  to  true 
peace.  Remaining  corruptions  will  work  in  the  best 
Christians  on  so  trying  an  occasion.  This  will  lead  them 
to  an  attentive  review  of  the  great  reasons  for  submission. 
It  will  lead  them  to  press  these  arguments  on  their  own 
souls,  and  to  plead  them  with  God  in  prayer ;  till  at 
length  the  storm  is  laid;  and  tribulation  worketh  pa- 
tience, and  patience  experience,  and  experience  a  hope, 
which  maketh  not  ashamed,  while  the  love  of  God  is  so 
shed  abroad  in  the  heart,  as  to  humble  it  for  every 
preceding  opposition,  and  to  bring  it  to  an  entire  and 
delightful  approbation  of  all  that  so  wise  and  gracious  a 
Father  has  done ;  giving  up  every  temporal  interest  and 
enjoyment  to  his  disposal,  and  sitting  down  \\ith  tlie 
sweet  resolution  of  the  prophet, — "  Although  the  fig-tree 
shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines ; 
the  labour  of  the  olive  shall  fiiil,  and  the  fields  shall  yield 
no  meat ;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off"  from  the  fold,  and 
there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  y  yet  I  will  rejoice  in 
the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation."  When 
we  are  brought  to  this,  the  whole  horizon  clears  at  once, 
and  the  sun  brcal^s  forth  in  its  strength. 

IV.  The  deaths  of  beloved  relatives  are  dispensations 
excellently  adapted  to  lead  us  into  a  deeper  knowledge 
of  what  is  amiss  in  our  hearts.  They,  as  it  were,  sift 
oar  carnal  and  perverse  hearts  to  tlie  bottom,  and  bring 


Ser.XXLI       benefits  of  affliction.  277 

up  to  our  view  a  great  deal  of  lurking  pride,  selfishness, 
idolatrous  affection  to  creatures,  and  rebellious  opposi- 
tion to  the  Creator.  These  evil  dispositions,  perhaps, 
lay  quite  out  of  sight,  and  in  a  great  measure  dormant, 
so  long,  as  God  smiled  upon  us,  and  gratified  our  ardent 
desires  Avith  a  constant  series  of  temporal  comforts. 
But,  M'hen  he  reverses  the  scene,  and  crosses  these  fond 
inclinations ;  then  our  pride  and  selfishness  begin  to 
swell,  and  burst  into  impatient  and  murmuring  senti- 
ments against  him.  Then  our  extreme  reluctance  to 
parting  with  creature  comforts  at  God's  command,  and 
the  long  and  excessive  sorrow,  which  attends  the  parting 
stroke,  too  plainl}^  shows,  that  \ve  insensibly  idolized 
these  comforts,  that  ^ve  placed  the  creature  in  the  room 
of  the  Creator,  and  that  we  are  ready  to  quarrel  with 
God  for  disturbing  us  in  our  sinful  idolatry.  Thus  the 
school  of  bereavement  teaches  us  more  and  more  of  the 
depths  of  ■\\'ickedness  in  the  human  heart,  and  our  press- 
ing need  of  supernatural  grace  to  rectify  these  disor- 
ders ;  and  thus  tends  to  promote  a  spirit  of  deep  humil- 
ity, earnest  prayerfulness,  godly  self-jealousy,  and  con- 
stant vigilance. 

V.  The  death  of  friends  operates  for  our  profit,  when 
it  awakens  us  to  a  solemn  and  tender  recollection  of  our 
conduct  toward  them,  whether  it  has  been  in  all  respects 
right  or  not ;  and  when  it  quickens  us  in  our  duty  to 
surviving  relatives.  ^Vhile  they  are  alive  and  present 
with  us,  our  neglect  of  duty  toward  them  does  not  so 
soon  strike  our  consciences.  But  \^1ien  the  stroke  of 
death  divides  them  from  us  in  this  world  forever,  we 
are  ready  then  to  bethink  ourselves,  whether  we  have 
fully  performed  our  duty  to  them.  "  Did  I  always  ren- 
der that  filial  affection,  that  submissive  tenderness  to  my 
departed  parent,  which  became  a  child  ?  Did  I  pay  due 
honour  and  obedience  to  parental  instructions,  counsels^ 


278  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.      [Ser.  XXI. 

and  admonitions,  especially  those,  which  regarded  my 
religious  and  eternal  concerns  ?  Did  I  careful!)'  and  faith- 
fully instruct  the  child,  which  I  have  lost,  in  the  great 
things  of  God,  of  heaven,  and  eternity,  and  endeavour 
to  train  him  up  for  the  service  and  enjoyment  of  his 
Creator?  What  have  I  done  for  the  spiritual  and  ever- 
lasting welfare  and  comfort  of  the  dear  partner,  or  broth- 
er, whom  Providence  has  now  placed  beyond  the 
possibility  of  ever  receiving  any  further  benefit  from  my 
friendly  assistance  ?  O  did  I  live  and  converse  with  my 
now  deceased  relative,  as  became  those,  who  were  breth- 
ren and  companions  in  the  spirit  as  ^^'ell,  as  in  the  flesh? 
Did  we  endeavoiu^  to  quicken  each  other^s  pious  zeal  and 
love,  and  help  one  another  onv.ard  in  the  road  to 
heaven  ?"  O  how  must  such  inquiries  convict  the  best 
of  us,  of  very  great  neghgcnce  toward  our  beloved 
friends,  who  are  now  departed !  And  how  powerfully 
must  such  a  conviction  operate  to  OA-erwhelm  us  with 
penitential  grief  for  such  neglects ;  and  to  double  our 
zeal  and  diligence  toward  those,  who  yet  survive !  This 
will  be  the  most  substantial  proof  of  our  aflfection  both  to 
the  dead  and  the  living.  And  could  our  deceased  rela- 
tives arise  from  their  graves,  or  address  us  from  the 
invisible  world,  they  ^vouid  call  upon  us  to  show  om- 
respect  in  this  way,  by  weeping  not  so  much  for  them, 
as  for  oursehes  and  our  children  ;  by  turning  the  w hole 
tide  of  our  affections  and  sorrows  for  thcin,  into  tlie 
channel  of  redoubled  zeal  and  care  for  the  salvation  of 
our  own  souls,  and  those  of  our  dear  surviving  friends. 

I  might  mention  many  other  particulars  in  w  hich  such 
strokes  of  bereavement  are  ^vell  adapted  mcatis  of  prof- 
iting the  living.  But  here,  to  prevent  mistakes,  I  must 
subjoin  this  explanatory  observation,  that  these  divine 
chastisements,  in  order  to  their  reaching  these  salutary 
ends,  must  be  accompanied  on  the  one  hand  "v\  ith  the 


&EK.  XXL]       BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.  279 

inward  teachings  and  impressions  of  divine  grace,  and 
on  the  other,  w  ith  sincere  desires  and  endeavours  on 
our  part  to  endure  and  improve  aiight.  If  tliose,  who 
are  visited  with  these  corrections,  pay  little  or  no  atten» 
tion  to  the  great  moral  purposes  for  which  tliey  are  sent ; 
if  tl¥^y  do  not  make  it  their  great  concern  to  learn  those 
divine  lessons,  which  tl>ey  are  designed  to  inculcate  ;  if, 
instead  of  this,  they  either  stupidly  overlook,  or  scorn- 
fully despise,  or  pce\  ishly  censure,  or  disconsolately 
sink  under  God's  chastising  hand,  in  all  these  cases, 
affliction,  instead  of  profiting,  Vvill  rather  harden  and  con- 
firm them  in  their  evil  dispositions.  Therefore,  by  way 
of  improvement, 

1st.  We  may  learn  the  true  import  of  the  phrase,  which 
is  so  often  on  our  tongues,  in  our  addresses  both  to  God 
and  men.  I  mean  w  hen  we  express  a  \\'ish,  or  a  peti- 
tion, that  such  an  affliction  may  be  sanctified  to  ourseh'es 
or  to  others.  Then  is  affliction  sanctified  to  a  person, 
when  he  is  truly  sanctified  by  the  affliction ;  or  is  so 
profited,  as  to  be  made  a  partaker  of  God's  holiness ; 
^vhen  his  love  and  conformity  to  God,  and  preparation 
for  the  final  enjoyment  of  him  are  hereby  increased. 
*'  O  that  this  bereavement  may  be  sanctified  to  me,"  is 
a  language  frequently  spoken  ;  but  what  sense,  or  Avhat 
sincerity  is  there  in  this  expression,  as  used  by  those 
persons,  who  appear  to  ha\  e  no  thought  nor  desire  of  be- 
ing made  better  by  their  affliction ;  who  manifest  no 
earnest  solicitude  to  have  their  proud,  worldly,  idola- 
trous affections  cured  by  this  discipline  ;  but  who  will 
perhaps  indulge  those  very  unsanctified  tempers  under 
the  rod,  which  directly  contradict  and  defeat  a  sanctified 
and  beneficial  improvement  of  it?  Again, 

2.  Our  subject  teaches  us,  that  the  best  way  of 
mourning  our  departed  friends,  is  by  really  profiting  by 
their  deaths ;  by  living  as  they  desire  ;  by  living  agree- 


280  BENEFITS  OF  AFFLICTION.       [Ser.XXT. 

ably  to  their  dying  advice  ;  to  the  forcible  eloquence  of 
their  expiring  groans,  their  solemn  funeral  solemnities, 
and  tlieir  sacred,  but  mouldering  tombs  :  to  behave  in 
such  a  manner,  as  would  best  please  and  gratify  them,  if 
they  could  distinctly  vieAi'  our  conduct  from  the  world 
of  spirits.  It  is  not  enough,  ye  mourners,  to  di'Op  a 
few  tears  at  the  decease  or  biu'ial  of  your  dear  rela- 
ti^'es,  and  then  go  aAvay  and  forget,  or  treat  v."ith  neglect^ 
the  silent  and  soft  address  of  their  death  beds,  or  their 
last  friendly  counsels  to  you,  and  good  wishes  and  pray- 
ers for  you.  To  do  this,  is  to  act  as  senseless  apart,  as 
the  herds,  which  trample  and  graze  upon  their  graves ; 
it  is  to  tread  under  feet  their  agonies,  to  trifle  Avith  their 
anguish,  and  frustrate  their  death.     Therefore, 

3.  Let  us  all  examine  ho\v  w^e  have  felt  and  behaved 
tinder  such  strokes  as  these.  Especially  let  those  of  us 
make  the  inquiry,  whose  hearts  God  has  lately  wound- 
ed in  this  way.  Let  each  of  us  ask  his  o^vn  heart, 
Have  I  seen  the  emptiness  of  creatures,  and  recalled  my 
hope  and  confidence  from  every  thing  below  God  ? 
Have  I,  in  this  severe  trial,  felt  my  heart  bow  in  quiet 
subjection  to  the  great  Father  of  spirits  ?  Have  I  showed, 
that  I  loved  God  abo^^e  the  dearest  creature  enjoyments, 
so  that  I  could  'willingly  acquiesce  in  his  soA'creigu 
pleasure,  and  give  up  my  beloved  friend  at  his  demand  ? 
Have  I,  by  this  affliction,  been  led  into  a  more  thorough 
acquaintance  with  my  own  heart,  and  been  made  truly 
humble  and  penitent  for  those  inordinate,  those  idola- 
trous, those  rebellious  affections,  which  lurk  there? 
Have  I  been  led  to  a  serious  review  of  my  past  behaviour 
toward  m}-  relatives  deceased  ;  and  do  I  feel  thankful  to 
God  for  whatever  kindness  and  duty  he  has  enabled  me 
to  perform  to  them,  and  penitent  for  every  instance  of 
neglect  and  unfaithfulness  ?  Am  I  quickened  hereby  to 


Ser.XXI.]       benefits  of  affliction.  281 

greater  zeal  and  fidelity  in  discharging  my  duty  to  my 
surviving  friends  ?  Do  I  feel  my  heart  more  disengaged 
from  earth,  more  weaned  from  life,  more  reconciled  to 
death,  and  more  attracted  to  the  world  of  spirits,  now 
another  beloved  object  has  gone  thither  before  me  '?  Do 
I  feel  and  live  more  as  a  borderer  on  the  eternal  world, 
since  a  part  of  me  has  now  fled  to  it  ?  And  am  I  ready 
to  follo^v,  if  I  should  quickly  receive  the  summons  ? 
Happ)',  thrice  happy,  those  mourners,  who  are  taught 
to  improve  the  death  of  friends  to  such  noble  purposes  ? 
The  temporal  loss,  in  this  case,  is  converted  into  infi- 
nite, immortal  gain.  But'if  any  of  us  are  not  engaged  in 
making  this  improvement,  w^e  have  reason  to  mourn 
with  an  emphasis ;  for  we  have  lost  not  only  our  deai* 
relatives,  but  likewise  the  whole  spirit  and  benefit  of  the 
affliction.  We  have  cause  to  weep,  not  merely  over  the 
dead  bodies  of  our  friends,  but  over  our  o\vn  stupid, 
dead,  miserable  souls,  which  are  a  tliousand  times  more 
shocking  spectacles. 

To  conclude  ;  let  all  the  members  of  this  society, 
whether  old  or  young,  parents  or  children  ;  whether  part-, 
ners  in  the  nuptial  relation,  or  brethren  and  sisters  of 
the  same  family  ;  let  them  all  attend  to  those  important 
lessons,  which  such  a  crowd  of  deaths  addresses  to  each 
of  them  respectively.  By  these  strokes  as  ^vell,  as  in 
numberless  other  ways,  God  has  been  often  warning 
and  reproving  you.  O  beware!  lest,  by  a  stupid  or  per- 
verse disregard,  you  incur  that  awful  doom.  Proverbs 
xxix.  1.  *'He  that,  being  often  reproved,  har- 

DENETH   HIS   NECK,   SHALL    SUDDENLY    BE    DESTROY^ 
ED,  AND   THAT  WITHOUT   REMEDY." 


©ennon  xxii. 


On  the  Duty  and  Advantages  of  worlhip- 
ping  God.* 


Psalm  xcv.  6. 

Q  come,  let  us  wors/iip  and  bow  down  ;  let  us  kneel  before 
the  Lord  our  Maker. 

XN  an  age,  like  the  present,  when  the  duties  of  piety, 
especially  the  public  offices  of  devotion,  arc  either 
superficially  attended,  carelessly  omitted,  or  openly 
ridiculed ;  when  everything,  which  indicates  a  scrupulous 
or  fervent  performance  of  them,  is  styled  vulgar  suj^ersti- 
tion  or  enthusiasm  ;  it  may  not  be  unprofitable  to  employ 
a  {^w  moments  in  explaining,  recommending,  and 
vindicating  the  good  old  practice  of  worship])ing  the 
Lord  our  Maker.  The  earnest  invitation  to  this  duty, 
contained  in  our  text  and  in  numberless  similar  passages 
of  scripture,  prove,  that  the  observance  of  it  is  of  high 
antiquity,  and  has  ever  formed  a  distinguished  trait  in 
the  most  excellent  human  characters. 

To  ^\'orship  God,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the  phrase,  is 
to  entertain  just  sentiments  of  him  in  our  understandings, 
with  correspondent  afiections  to^vard  him  in  our  hearts  ; 
and  to  manifest  these  in  our  external  language  and 
behaviour,  especially  in  solemn  stated  exercises  of  adora- 
tion and  praise,  of  pra}'cr  and  thanksgiving.     The  scver- 

•  The  swbstance  of  tliis  discourse  M'as  dellvereJ  at  a  public  lecture,  in 
Harvard  University,  Feb.  25,  1794. 


Ser.XXII.]       duty  and  advantages,  &c.         283 

al  inward  affections  toward  the  Deity,  which  constitute 
the  soul  of  acceptable  worship,  and  of  all  religious  good- 
ness, may  be  summed  up  in  two  words,  veneration  and 
love  ;  the  former  comporting  with  the  majestic  and  aw- 
ful, the  latter,  with  the  more  amiable  and  beneficent  attri- 
butes of  God. 

That  we  ought  to  possess  these  internal  feelings  to- 
ward our  Maker,  and  to  express  and  promote  then-u  by 
frequent  acts  both  of  private  and  social  worship,  may  be 
proved  by  various  topics  of  argument. 

Such  pious  exercises  are,  in  the  first  place,  fit  and 
beautiful  in  themselves.  « 

They  correspond  to  the  nature  both  of  God  and  man. 
They  are  a  just  tribute  to  the  various  perfections  and 
relations  of  the  Deity,  and  most  congenial  to  the  nobler 
powers  and  affections  of  his  dependent  and  rational  off- 
spring. Is  it  not  entirel}^  reasonable  and  congruous, 
that^ve  should  admire  supreme  greatness,  dread  infinite' 
power  and  justice,  love  perfect  goodness  and  beauty, 
confide  in  unchangeable  mercy  and  truth,  and  cheerfully 
submit  to  unerring  wisdom  and  rectitude  ?  Does  not 
our  conscious,  unceasing  dependence  upon  the  Being, 
who  made  us,  oblige  us  to  constant  prayer?  Does  not 
every  ray  of  comfort  and  of  hope,  which  enlightens  and 
cheers  our  existence,  demand  our  fervent  gratitude  and 
praise  to  him,  who  is  continually  dispensing  these  re- 
fi-eshing  beams  ?  Does  the  tenderness  of  a  parent,  the 
fidelity  of  a  friend,  or  the  still  greater  virtues  of  the  pat- 
riot swell  our  bosoms  with  unutterable  sentiments  of 
grateful  respect?  And  is  the  original,  the  universal  Par- 
ent, Friend,  and  Benefactor,  the  great  Inspirer  of  e\'ery 
thing,  which  is  amiable  or  kind  in  his  creatures  ;  is  he 
to  be  treated  with  cold  or  contemptuous  neglect  ?  Shall 
those  overflov/ings  of  heart*  those  ardent  acknowledg- 
s  s 


284  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES        [Ser.XXII, 

ments,  which  imperfect  human  excellence  and  benefi- 
cence command,  be  ridiculed  as  foolish  superstition  or 
enthusiasm,  when  paid  to  the  infinite  summary  and 
fountain  of  good  ?  How  absurd  is  that  philosophy,  how 
preposterous  those  pretensions  to  wit  or  liberality,  which 
can  thus  pour  contempt  on  the  most  rational  and  noble 
employment  of  man  ?  The  eye  of  true  philosophy  per- 
ceives a  far  higher  fitness,  proportion,  and  beauty  in 
such  devout  exercises  of  intellicyent  creatures  toward 

o 

their  infinitely  glorious  and  beneficent  Creator,  than  in 
the  application  of  similar  or  equal  mathematical  figures, 
one  to  another,  or  the  most  orderly  mutual  adjustment 
of  natural  bodies.  It  pronounces  that  Being  to  be  the 
proper  adequate  object  of  our  understandings  and  hearts, 
who  is  at  once  the  first  truth  and  the  sovereign  good. 
It  proclaims  him  to  be  a  pitiful  and  wretched  philoso- 
pher, who  stops  at  visible  effects  and  secondary  causes, 
w  hile  he  overlooks  or  despises  the  prime  Mover,  the 
glorious,  all  pervading  Spirit  of  the  universe.  Sound 
philosophy,  tlierefore,  both  natural  and  moral,  directly 
leads  to  devotion,  and  terminates  in  it,  as  its  proper  end 
and  its  hignest  perfection. 

We  may  add,  the  main  dignity  of  our  nature,  as  dis' 
tinguished  from  the  inanimate  and  the  brutal,  consists 
in  our  capacity  of  contemplating,  adoring,  and  enjoying 
the  great  Author  and  Ruler  of  the  universe. 

Man,  therefore,  is  evidently  constituted  the  high 
priest  of  the  visible  creation,  and  is  placed  in  this  au- 
gust temple  of  the  Deity,  that  he  may  offer  up  the  in- 
cense of  devout  homage  and  praise  for  himself  and  for 
all  inferior  creatures. 

It  deserves  our  special  attention,  that  mankind  are 
plainly  formed  for  this  sacred  employment,  not  only  in 
their  individual,  but  also  in  their  social  capacity.     As  we 


Sir.  XXII.l        OF  WORSHIPPING^  GOD.  285 

are  capable  of,  and  strongly  inclined  to  society,  and  de- 
rive a  large  portion  of  our  pleasures  and  advantages  from 
a  mutual  communication  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings ; 
it  follows,  that  our  devotional  sentiments  as  Mell,  as  oth- 
ers ought  to  be  expressed,  enlivened,  and  improved  by 
social  intercourse,  or  by  united  petitions  and  thanksgiv- 
ings to  the  common  source  of  ail  our  blessings  and 
hopes.  As  there  are  in  every  society,  \vhether  domestic 
or  literary,  religious  or  political,  common  privileges, 
comforts,  and  wants,  a  due  sense  of  these  cannot  be  man- 
ifested but  by  common  or  joint  exercises  of  devotion. 

Accordingly,  social  or  public  M'orship  of  the  Deity 
has  been  instituted  and  practised  b}^  all  nations  of  men 
from  the  beginning  to  this  day  ;  and  the  appointment  of 
a  weekly  Sabbath,  for  this  important  purpose,  is  coeval 
with  the  creation. 

Which  leads  us  to  add,  that  devout  exercises  toward 
the  Most  High  are  fi'equently  enjoined  in  the  Word  of 
God,  as  an  essential  part  and  instrument  of  virtue.  The 
worship  of  our  Maker  in  the  closet,  in  the  family,  and 
in  public,  is  recommended  in  scripture  by  precept  and 
example,  by  divine  incitement  and  promise. 

This  remark  anticipates,  and  sufficiently  refutes  an 
objection,  which  is  sometimes  brought  against  vocal, 
and  especially  public  addresses  to  our  Maker.  It  is 
said,  that  these  outward  forms  are  of  no  advantage  either 
to  God  or  man ;  that  rational  homage  to  our  Creator 
consists  wholly  in  proper  sentiments  and  dispositions  of 
mind ;  and  that  these  are  best  cultivated  by  private 
study  and  meditation. 

To  this  we  reply,  if  these  pious  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings exist  with  due  vigour  in  our  bosoms,  they  will 
break  forth  into  direct  and  fervent  acknowledgments ; 
they  will  prompt  the  most  open  and  expressive  testimo- 


286  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES        [Ser.  XXII, 

nies  of  respect  and  gratitude  to  their  infinite  object. 
This  assertion  is  verified  by  the  obvious  frame  and 
constant  experience  of  mankind.  Hoav  did  the  rever- 
ence and  affection  of  Americans  toAvard  their  admired 
Washington  burst  forth  into  the  most  emulous  and 
ardent  expressions  of  love  and  honour,  when  he  fa- 
voured th?  several  states,  a  few  years  since,  with  his 
presence  ? 

In  short,  the  propriety  and  obligation  of  public  relig- 
ious worship  are  enforced  by  three  distinct  and  weighty 
'considerations. 

First,  by  the  regard,  which  we  owe  to  the  Deity. 

As  we  have  already  shown,  that  pious  inward  senti- 
ments and  emotions  toward  our  Creator  are  the  glory 
of  our  nature  ;  so  a  decent  and  manly  avowal  of  these 
sentiments,  before  the  world,  is  a  tribute,  which  we  owe 
to  God  as  well,  as  to  man.  This  avowal  is  strikingly 
made  by  public  devotion.  Certainly  no  sober  persorj 
can  think,  that  he  discharges  his  duty  to  God,  if  his  pi- 
ety shrinks  from  the  public  eye,  and  conceals  itself  un- 
der the  \'eil  of  retirement,  as  though  he  were  ashamed 
of  his  intercession  with  the  Author  and  end  of  his  being. 

If,  my  brethren,  we  really  believe  in  the  existence 
and  perfections,  the  revelativon  and  providence  of  God, 
let  us  show  our  faith  b}^  our  practice ;  not  indeed  by  an 
ostentatious,  superstitious,  or  fanatical  display  of  relig- 
ious strictness  and  zeal ;  but  by  a  regular  attendance  on 
tho^e  venerable  Christian  institutions,  which  are  signifi- 
cant and  honourable  memorials  of  the  Deity  to  all  the 
surrounding  world.  If  a  principle  of  rational  and  scrip- 
tural piety  be  established  in  our  hearts,  it  w  ill  be  gener- 
ous, ardent,  and  diffusi\  e ;  we  shall  feel,  that  our  own 
solitary  homage  is  too  small  a  tribute  to  the  Being, 
whom  we  adore  ;   we  shall  m  ish  to  kindle  the  same  de- 


Ser.XXII.]        of  worshipping  god.  287 

vout  flame  in  every  creature  arpiind  us ;  and,  like  the 
fervent  psalmist,  we  shall  call  on  the  earth  and  hea\'ens, 
on  angels  and  men,  to  unite  in  swelling  the  song  of  praise. 
Which  leads  me, 

Secondly,  to  enforce  this  duty  by  the  regard  we  oivc 
to  mankind. 

Even  enlightened  deists  and  atheists  have  confessed 
the  utility  of  religion,  and  especially  of  Christianity,  to 
human  society.  Consequently,  on  their  own  principles, 
they  ought  to  reverence  and  support  those  institutions, 
by  vvliich  its  influence  is  preserved  and  diifused.  But 
how  much  greater  is  this  obligation  on  those,  w^ho  pro- 
fessedly believe  not  only  in  the  excellence  and  useful- 
*ness,  but  also  in  the  divine  authenticity  of  the  gospel ; 
who  believe,  that  it  is  at  once  a  well  adapted  and  divinel)'- 
appointed  mean  of  making  men  good  and  happy,  both 
for  this  world  and  the  next  ?  How  eminently  does  this 
consideration  bind  the  duty  before  us  on  those,  M-hose 
wealth,  station,  or  influence  renders  their  example  pecu- 
liai'ly  efiicacious  on  the  lower  orders  of  society !  Com- 
mon humanity,  and  even  policy  as  well,  as  Christian 
benevolence  should  induce  such  persons  to  go  before 
the  multitude  in  the  road  of  exemplary  virtue  and  relig- 
ion, particularly  in  a  conspicuous  regard  to  the  duties 
of  public  Christian  worship  and  institutions  on  the 
Lord's  day,  which  are  granted  to  be  peculiarly  benefi- 
cial and  consolatory  to  the  poor  and  labouring  part  of 
the  community.  It  is  a  just  and  striking  observation 
of  the  great  Mr.  Neckar,  that  "  the  appointment  of  a 
day  of  weekly  rest  and  social  worship,  especially  as 
connected  with  public  instruction  in  Christian  piety  and 
morality,  is  a  most  benevolent  act  to  the  great  mass  of 
mankind,  and  the  result  of  enlarged  and  generous  poli- 
cy, if  viewed  merely  in  its  aspect  upon  the  order  and 
happiness  of  society." 


28S  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES        [See.XXIL 

How  important,  then,  is  it,  tliat  the  dependent  and  il- 
literate multitude  should  be  taught  and  encouraged  by 
the  example  of  their  superiors  duly  to  estimate  and  im- 
prove these  precious  advantages !  How  cruel,  how  ex- 
tensively pernicious  the  ei^ect,  when  the  poor  are  in- 
structed by  the  conduct  of  the  rich,  and  the  more  igno- 
rant by  the  practice  of  the  learned,  that  there  is  no  truth 
in  the  doctrines,  no  obligation  in  the  precepts,  no  advan- 
tage in  the  public  ceremonies,  no  reality  in  the  consolar 
tians  and  hopes  of  Christianity  !  This  leads  me  to  add, 

Thirdly,  that  these  public  exercises  of  religion  are 
recommended  to  us  by  the  great  private  advantages, 
which  may  accrue  to  ourselves. 

Even  those,  who  move  in  the  highest  or  most  illumi- 
pated  spheres  of  society,  may  derive  much  improvement 
from  this  source.  Their  religious  and  moral  principles 
will  receive  new  vigour  and  confirmation  by  the  habit 
of  openly  avowing  and  exercising  them  in  the  presence 
and  society  of  others.  The  weekly  return  of  these  du- 
ties suspends  that  perpetual  current  of  professional  busir 
ness,  of  worldly  cares  or  amusements,  which  would 
otherwise  leave  little  or  no  leisure  nor  disposition  for  se- 
rious reflection.  It  calls  us  away  from  the  scenes  of 
dissipation  ;  awakens  the  mind  from  its  enchanting  de- 
lirium ;  places  its  own  moral  picture  steadily  before  it ; 
and  makes  it  feel  its  connexion  with  a  moral  governor 
and  an  eternal  Judge.  It  enlightens  and  awes ;  it  quickr 
ens  and  comforts  us  afresh  with  the  great  principles  and 
prospects  of  revelation.  In  so  impure  and  tempting  a  re- 
gion, as  the  present  world,  the  most  contemplati\'e,  im- 
proved, and  virtuous  characters  need  a  frequent  and 
lively  inculcation  of  those  divine  truths,  by  ^^  hich  relig- 
ious goodness  is  nourished  and  fortified.  How  much 
more  needful,  then,  is  this  inculcation  to  the  ignorant. 


Ser.  XXII.]        OF  WORSHIPPING  GOD,  28f 

the  careless,  and  the  vicious  !  To  all  which,  we  may 
add,  tliat  the  gracious  presence  of  God,  by  his  a\\'aken- 
ing,  sanctifying,  and  comforting  Spirit  is,  by  the  prom- 
ises of  scripture,  eminently  connected  ^v'ith  a  serious 
and  uniform  attendance  on  the  duties  of  his  sanctuary. 
In  this  respect  "  The  Lord  lo\eth  the  gates  of  Zion 
more,  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob." 

These  observations  anticipate  and  sufficiently  answer 
several  modern  objectionij,  which  are  brought  against 
the  public  forms  of  religious  worship. 

Can  a  person,  then,  duly  realize  and  be  properly  af- 
fected with  the  constant  presence,  the  transcendent  per- 
fections and  benefits  of  the  Deity,  without  testifying  his 
regards  to  him  by  the  exercises  both  of  private  and  pub- 
lic devotion  ?  Besides,  devout  affections,  like  all  others, 
are  not  only  -naturally  expressed,  but  enlivened  and  in- 
creased by  correspondent,  external  behaviour  and  lan- 
guage ;  insomuch,  that  e^Try  sincere  act  of  worship, 
even  in  private,  cherishes  the  inward  flame  of  devotion, 
and  promotes  every  pious  and  virtuous  disposition  in  a 
far  more  effectual  manner,  than  can  be  done  by  mere 
contemplation. 

But  public  Vv'orship  produces  this  effect  in  a  still  high- 
er degree  ;  for  it  raises  and  improves  de^'otional  feel- 
ings by  the  power  of  sympathy  and  example.  The  pi- 
ous fervour  of  one  is  hereby  communicated  to  anoth- 
er, and  thus  extends  its  influence  to  all  the  specta- 
tors. 

It  also  refines  and  strengthens  the  social  affections. 
By  frequently  approaching  our  heavoily  Parent,  in  unit- 
ed worship,  V.  e  are  led  to  feel  toward  one  another,  as 
children  of  one  famil}',  as  standing  on  a  level  in  the 
presence  of  our  impartial  and  merciful  Judge  ;  and  thus 
it  levels  the  little  distinctions  of  rank,  of  personal  or 


290  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES        [Ser.XXII, 

mental  accompiishments ;  cherishes  a  truly  republican 
and  Christian  equality  ;  and  cements  all  classes  of  soci- 
etv  in  the  bonds  of  mutual  kindness  and  charity. 

In  short,  social  worship,  joined  with  public,  religious 
instruction,  is  the  grand  instrument  of  spreading  knowl- 
edge and  civilization,  humanity  and  piety,  through  the 
community,  and  of  handing  them  down  to  future  gen- 
erations.. 

It  is  evident,  that  these  great  objects  could  not  be  at- 
tained by  private  reading,  meditation,  or  even  devotion, 
however  seriously  or  steadily  performed.  Suppose,  for 
example,  the  anniversary  of  American  independence 
were  observed  only  by  those  refined  individuals,  who 
could  entertain  and  improve  their  minds  by  reading  or 
reflecting  on  that  great  event  in  studious  retirement ; 
would  this  ansAver  the  purposes  of  such  an  annual  com- 
memoration? Would  it  diffuse  and  imprint  upon  tlic 
public  mind  a  just  and  impressive  idea  of  our  glorious 
revolution  ?  Would  it  enlighten  and  warm  the  rising 
generation  with  the  sentiments  of  American  freedom 
and  polit}-  ?  Would  it  serve  to  transmit  these  sentiments 
to  our  unborn  posterity  ?  Your  own  reflections  immedi- 
ately answer  these  questions,  and  apply  them  to  the  sub- 
ject before  us. 

I  have  dwelt  the  longer  on  this  subject,  because  a 
Ccireless,  and  even  contemptuous  disregard  to  the  duties 
of  piety,  especially  to  the  public  offices  of  devotion,  is 
a  leading  feature  of  the  present  age.  A  punctual  and 
serious  attendance  on  these  religious  forms  is  ridiculed 
by  many,  as  vulgar  superstition ;  Avhile  CA-ery  tiling, 
which  savours  of  in^\  ard,  fervent  devotion,  is  styled  fa- 
natic delusion.  It  is  readily  granted,  that  both  super- 
stition and  enthusiasm  are  very  absurd,  uncomfortable, 
and  danga-ous  things.     We  vrill  also  grant,  'that  the  re- 


Ser.XXII.]  of  worshipping  god.  291 

iigion  of  many  of  our  ancestors  was  deformed  with  a 
mixture  of  these  gloomy  ingredients.  But,  while  we 
eagerly  fly  from  these  extremes,  let  us  not  precipitate 
ourselves  into  the  opposite  evils.  Let  us  not  neglect  and 
despise  all  devotion  both  in  its  inward  spirit  and  exter- 
nal institutions.  Let  us  remember,  that  piety  towards 
our  Maker  is  our  first  and  highest  duty ;  that  it  is  the  no- 
blest and  the  only  sure  support  of  moral  virtue  and  social 
order  ;  and  that  a  regular  observance  of  the  outward 
signs  and  means  of  religion  is  the  only  method  of  pro- 
moting and  perpetuating  its  influence  in  the  present  and 
succeeding  generations. 

Were  these  forms  wholly  laid  aside,  a  sense  of  relig- 
ious, moral,  and  even  civil  propriety  and  obligation 
would  rapidly  decline,  and  the  great  mass  of  the  people 
sink  into  pagan  ignorance  and  barbarity.  Accordingly, 
the  Roman  emperor  Julian,  a  ^'ery  sagacious  and  bitter 
enemy  of  Christianity,  was  so  struck  with  the  good  ef- 
fects, which  public  worship  and  instruction  had  upon 
the  Christians  of  that  age,  that  he  recommended  their 
example  in  this  respect  to  his  heathen  subjects,  and  di- 
rected their  philosophers  to  give  stated  weekly  lectures, 
as  the  best  method  of  restoring  and  extending  their  old 
idolatrous  religion. 

The  ideas  suggested  in  this  discourse  ought  to  have 
peculiar  weight  with  such  a  respectable  society,  as  I 
am  no u' addressing.  Both  God  and  man  justly  expect, 
that  the  first  University  in  America  should  be  the  prime 
nursery  and  pattern  of  every  species  of  excellence,  both 
intellectual  and  moral.  Be  ambitious,  then,  my  young 
hearers,  to  fulfil  this  reasonable  expectation.  Remem- 
ber, that  enlightened  and  warm  devotion  toward  your 
Maker,  expressed  and  promoted  by  an  orderly  and  se- 
T  t 


292  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES        [Seb.  XXIL 

lious  attendance  on  the  daily  and  religious  oblations  of 
this  literary  family  as  well,  as  on  the  weekly  solemni- 
ties of  public  worship,  is  necessary  to  complete  your 
character,  both  as  scholars,  gentlemen,  and  Christians, 
and  to  secure  your  future  acceptance,  usefulness,  and 
honour  in  the  higher  departments  of  civil  and  religious 
society. 

Let  me  then  urge  this  duty  upon  you  by  every  argu- 
ment of  common  propriety  and  decorum  ;  of  humanity 
and  friendship  to  the  lower  classes  of  the  people,  who 
look  to  you  for  an  example  ;  of  respect  to  human  and 
divine  laws,  and  to  the  sentiments  and  practice  of  the 
wisest  and  best  men  in  all  ages ;    of  genuine  regard  to 
the  welfare  of  your  country,  and  to  our  own  true  peace 
and  glory  in  this  world  and  the  next  as  well,  as  due  rev- 
erence and  gratitude  to  your  infinite  Creator.     Be  ever 
on  your  guard  against  every  thing,  which  might  betray 
you  into  a  contempt  either  of  religion  itself,  or  of  the 
means,  which  are  necessary  to  support  it.      Beware  of 
the  fashionable  scepticism   and  scoffing  infidelity  of  the 
age.     Beware  of  that  liberal,  but  false  philosophy,  which 
places  the  whole  duty  and  happiness  of  man  in  the  cold 
performance  of  civil   and   social  virtue.      Remember, 
that  the  interests  of  morality  and  of  society  are  essen- 
tially connected  with  those  of  religion.     Beware   too  of 
that  thoughtless  levity  and  that  unbounded  love  of  pleas- 
ure, w^hich  too  naturally  spring  up  amid  the  sunshine 
of  worldly  affluence,  joined  uith  yotithful  vigour  and  vi- 
vacity.    An  intermixture  of  decent  and  m  mly  amuse- 
ment i::  at  once  graceful  and  beneficial  in  the  period  of 
}-outh,  and  amidst  the  Hitiguing  studies  of  a  collegiate 
life.     But  a  perpetual  giddiness  of  mind,    which  never 
pauses  to  reflect  seriously   on  the  high  destination  and 
prospects  of  man,  or  which  hurries  along  in  an  unceas- 


Ser.  XXII.]        OF  WORSHIPPING  GOD.  293 

ing  career  of  low  and  debasing  indulgence,  is  very  un- 
becoming the  votaries  of  science,  who  ought  to  be  capa- 
ble of  more  close,  refined,  philosophic  thinking  and  act- 
ing, than  vulgar  mortals,  and  ought  never  to  sacrifice 
the  noble  enjoyments  of  rational  and  moral,  of  relig- 
ious and  immortal  beings,  to  trifling  and  sordid  pur- 
suits. 

Beware  too  of  that  learned  pride,  or  vain  self  conceit, 
which  is  apt  to  raise  young  students,  in  their  own  imag- 
ination, above  the  need  of  public,  religious  instruction 
or  worship,  or  which  inspires  disgust  and  contempt  of 
every  public  speaker  or  performance,  which  falls  below 
their  high  and  delicate  standard.  Remember,  that  tiie 
great  design  of  public  devotional  exercises  is  not  merely 
to  entertain,  or  even  to  instruct,  but  to  excite,  express, 
and  promote  pious  and  virtuous  sentiments  of  heart; 
and  that  persons  of  the  most  improved  understandings 
need,  and  may  be  benefited  by  them  in  this  view,  even 
though  they  suggest  no  iiQW  idea  to  their  minds,  nor 
afford  much  gratification  to  a  nice  and  curious  taste. 
It  also  merits  consideration,  that  a  large  majority  of  our 
common  worshipping  assemblies,  on  the  Lord's  day,  is 
composed  of  illiterate  hearers  ;  that  these  peculiarly  need 
the  advantages  of  public,  religious  instruction  ;  and  that, 
in  order  to  meet  their  capacities  and  feelings,  and  thus 
accomplish  the  most  extensive  good,  the  learned  speak- 
er and  his  more  delicate  hearers,  must  be  generously 
willing  to  forego  many  pleasing  refinements  both  of  sen- 
timent and  expression.  Such  condescending  and  be- 
nevolent sacrifices  are  recommended  by  the  best  writers 
on  pulpit  eloquence  as  well,  as  by  the  best  models  of 
it,  which  the  ^^■orld  has  produced. 


294  DUTY  AND  ADVANTAGES,  Sec.      [Ser.XXII. 

These  free,  but  friendly  hints  of  advice  will,  I  hope, 
be  received  with  the  same  candid  temper,  with  which 
they  are  given ;  and  may  they  operate  by  the  divine 
blessing  to  revive  the  credit  and  practice  of  serious  devo- 
tion in  this  important  nursery  ;  and  hence  may  it  spread 
into  every  department  of  the  American  community ., 


©ermon  xxiii. 


On  Forgiveness. 

Matthew  vi.  12. 
Forghe  us  our  dcbtSj  as  ivcforghe  our  debtors. 

HAT  divine  model  of  devotion,  of  which  these 
words  are  a  part,  is  equally  distinguished  for  its  brevity 
and  fulness,  its  plainness  and  grandeur,  its  universal 
suitableness  and  importance.  In  these  several  respects 
it  unspeakably  transcends  the  highest  productions  of 
man.  While  it  unites  the  interests  of  heaven  and 
earth,  of  time  and  eternity,  in  six  short  petitions  ;  it  is 
remarkable,  that  the  three  first  of  these  respect  the  name, 
the  kingdom,  and  will  of  God  ;  while  the  other  three 
contemplate  our  own  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare. 
This  arrangement  as  well,  as  the  reason  of  things,  in- 
structs us  to  set  up  the  honour  and  pleasure  of  Deity, 
and  the  general  happiness  of  his  moral  empire,  as  the 
prime  object  of  our  prayers  and  pursuits,  and  by  this 
to  direct,  limit,  and  consecrate  our  desires  of  personal 
and  inferior  good.  We  are  to  ask  our  daily  bread,  the 
pardon  of  our  offences,  deliverance  from  temptation  and 
all  evil,  not  merely  for  selfish  purposes,  but  with  a  lead- 
ing view  to  the  service,  the  glory',  and  enjoyment  of 
our  Maker. 

The  petition,  selected  for  our  present  consideration, 
directs  us  to  pray  to  God  for  the /orgheness  of  our  dcbts^ 
and  to  enforce  the  request  by  a  plea  founded  on  our 
forgiveness  of  the  debts  or  trespasses  of  others. 


296  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.  XXIII. 

The  plirase  our  debts  is  equivalent  to  our  sins,  as  it 
is  expressed  by  another  evangelist.  Our  sins  are  prop- 
erly styled  dtfbiSy  because  they  render  us  debtors  to  the 
injured  law  and  honour  of  God,  and  the  violated  order 
and  peace  of  his  dominions,  and  in  some  cases  directly 
infringe  the  rights  of  our  fellow  creatures.  Of  course 
tliey  lay  us  under  obligation  either  to  repair  the  injury 
committed,  or  to  suffer  a  penalty  proportioned  to  it. 
Consequently,  iht  forghcness  of  our  trespasses  is  a  gra- 
cious discharge  from  this  obligation,  or  from  this  debt 
of  personal  satisfaction  or  punishment  for  our  transgres- 
sions. The  petition  before  us  is,  therefore,  a  request, 
that  God  would  release  us  from  the  threatened  and  de- 
served penalty  of  his  just,  but  violated  law,  and  finally 
treat  us,  as  though  we  had  never  offended.  It  implies 
a  request,  that  our  merciful  Sovereign  would  not  only 
cancel  our  past  guilt,  but  confer  on  us  all  the  privileges 
and  comforts  of  his  reconciled  and  paternal  favour,  and 
introduce  us  to  that  transcendent  blessedness,  which 
the  gospel  covenant  ensures  to  those,  whose  transgres- 
sions are  forgiven.  . 

In  contemplating  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  three  things 
claim  our  special  attention,  viz.  tlie  original  source,  the 
meritorious  ground,  and  the  appointed  instrument  of 
this  blessing. 

Its  original  source  is  the  free,  unsolicited  benevo- 
lence of  God.  Its  moral  ground  is  the  meritorious 
obedience  and  sacrifice  of  his  Son.  Its  appointed  con- 
dition is  a  penitent  and  obedient  faith,  or  such  a  tem- 
per and  conduct  on  our  part,  as  become  guilty  offend- 
ers, favoured  Avith  the  offer  of  mediatorial  mercy.  In 
other  words,  the  terms  of  remission,  prescribed  both  by 
the  gospel  constitution  and  the  fitness  of  things,  are  a 
deep  repentance  of  sin,  a  cordial  acceptance  of  offered 


Ser.XXIII.I  on  forgiveness.  297 

pardon,  as  the  free  gift  of  God  dirough  the  atonement 
of  his  Son,  fervent  love  and  dianksgiving  to  our  merci- 
ful, forgiving  Father  and  Redeemer,  and  a  zealous  care 
to  imitate  and  honour  them  by  forgiving  and  doing 
good  to  our  fellow  servants,  and  by  the  studious  prac- 
tice of  universal  holiness. 

These  observations  illustrate  both  the  propriety  and 
the  true  import  of  the  petition  before  us.  For  since  a 
spirit  of  evangelical  repentance,  faith,  and  obedience  is 
essentially  pre-requisite  to  fojgiveness,  and  since  the 
daily,  moral  imperfections  and  irregularities  even  of  the 
best  Christians  call  for  the  fresh  exercises  of  humble 
and  believing  penitence,  in  order  to  a  renewed  remis- 
sion of  guilt ;  it  follows,  that  daily  prayer  to  God  for 
pardon  is  the  proper  and  indispensable  duty  of  all ;  for 
it  is  but  a  natural  and  decent  expression  of  conscious 
depravity  and  guilt,  of  becoming  humility  and  repent- 
ance, and  a  suitable  acknowledgment  both  of  the  sove- 
reio-n  mercv  and  justice  of  God.  Herebv  the  humble 
suppliant  pays  due  honour  both  to  God  and  the  Media- 
tor, to  the  law,  which  condemns  sin,  and  to  the  gospel, 
which  pardons  it ;  he  cordially  owns  and  extols  the 
righteousness  of  the  one,  and  the  grace  of  the  other. 
The  spirit,  therefore,  of  this  petition,  implies,  that  the 
person  offering  it  not  only  feels  himself  to  be  a  sinner, 
but  heartily  condemns  and  forsakes  every  evil  propensi- 
ty and  practice.  Without  this  disposition,  the  oflender 
virtually  justifies  his  disobedience,  declares  his  resolu- 
tion to  continue  in  it,  and  spurns  that  mercy,  \vhich  of- 
fers to  pardon  it.  If  such  a  person  verbally  beg  divine 
forgiveness,  he  evidendy  does  it  in  a  manner  perfectly 
unmeaning  and  hypocritical ;  at  best  he  resorts  to  it 
merely,  as  a  refuge  from  impending  but  unmerited  pun- 
ishment, or  an  opiate  for  a  disturbed,  self-condemning- 


298  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.XXIII. 

mind,  or  a  comforting  licence  for  future  transgressions. 
It  is  plain,  both  from  reason  and  scripture,  that  such  a 
hollow  and  even  insolent  petition  cannot  be  accepted  by 
the  Deity,  and  that  a  heart,  truly  humbled  and  contrite 
for  its  offences,  must  give  life,  and  beauty,  and  efficacy- 
to  the  prayer  of  the  text.  This  contrite  and  penitent 
disposition  must  also  be  united  with  evangelical  faith, 
or  a  constant  regard  to  the  mediation  of  Christ,  as  the 
appointed  channel  of  God's  pardoning  mercy.  This  is 
what  is  meant  by  praying  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  ^vhich  is 
every  where  required  in  the  New  Testament,  and  which 
forms  the  leading  trait  in  the  prayers  of  Christians,  as 
distinguished  from  those  of  heathens  and  infidels. 

Another  virtuous  disposition,  which  ought  to  charac- 
terize our  supplications  for  divine  forgiveness,  is  a  cor- 
responding temper  towards  oar  fello\v  creatures  ;  "  for- 
give us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors."  By 
"  our  debtors"  are  intended  those,  who,  in  any  respect, 
injure  us,  either  in  our  persons,  reputation,  interest,  or 
comfort.  The  Christian  duty  of  foi'giveness  does  not 
require  a  stoical  or  affected  insensibility  of  such  injuri- 
ous treatment ;  for  the  gospel  aims  to  regulate,  not  to 
extinguish  the  innocent  feelings  of  nature.  Nor  does 
the  duty  before  us  forbid  our  exj)ressing  to  the  injuri- 
ous party  a  proper  indignation  and  grief  at  his  miscon- 
duct, and  prudently  attempting  his  conviction  and 
amendment :  on  the  contrary,  the  scripture  enjoins  us 
to  go  to  our  offending  brother,  and  privately  tell  him  his 
fault:  its  direction  is,  "  thou  shalt  not  hate  thy  brother 
in  thy  lieart;  but  thou  shalt  in  any  wise  rebuke  him,  and 
not  suffer  sin  upon  him."  This  text  implies,  that  a  neg- 
lect to  reprove  an  offender  is  a  proof  of  hatred  rather, 
than  of  lo\  e.  Noj-  does  the  duty  in  question  prohibit 
us  from  seeking  satisfaction  fioni  those,  who  have  in- 


Ser.  XXIIl.]  ON  FORGIVENESS.  299 

jured  us.  The  laws  of  God,  of  "self  preservation,  and 
of  civil  society  wanant  us  in  such  cases  to  do  justice  to 
ourselves.  Accordingly,  the  rules  of  Christianity  re- 
quire the  injurious  person  to  go  and  make  sati^action 
to  his  offended  brother,  and  even  to  defer  the  perform- 
ance of  religious  worship,  till  he  has  honestly  attempted 
this  reconciliation  ;  and  without  this  previous  step  his 
acts  of  devotion  will  not  be  accepted.  Now  if  the  gos- 
pel obliges  the  offender  to  give  satisfaction,  it  authorises 
the  party  offended  to  expect  and  demand  it.  Nor  does 
this  duty  universally  imply  an  obligation  to  express  our 
forgiveness  in  direct  terms  to  those  who  have  wronged 
us.  We  are  bound  to  do  this  to  those  offenders  only, 
who  come  to  us  ^\'ith  a  due  acknoAvled&'nient  of  their 

o 

fault  and  desire  of  our  forgiveness. 

But  the  duty  of  forgiving  offenders  implies,  in  the 
First  place,  that  we  sincerely  love  them  notwithstanding 
their  injurious  conduct.  The  second  great  command 
of  the  law,  thou  shah  lo^e  thy  neighbour y  as  thyself ^  is  im- 
mutably binding  upon  every  man,  especiaiiy  on  every 
Christian  ;  and  nothing  in  himself  or  his  neighbour  can 
excuse  his  violation  of  it.  If  my  brother  has  transgress- 
ed this  law  of  love  in  his  behaviour  to  me  ;  this  will  bv 
no  means  annul  my  duty  to  Iiim.  If  I  truly  loved  him 
previously  to  his  offence,  and  heartily  forgive  him  since ; 
I  shall  still  feel  the  same  benevolent  afitection  tow  ards 
him  as  before.  Agreealjly,  our  divine  Lord  extends 
the  duty  of  love  to  our  most  malignant  and  injurioui 
foes  :  "I  say  unto  you,  love  your  enemies ;  bless  them 
that  curse  you  ;  and  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use 
you."  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  indulgence  of  aa 
angry,  sullen,  or  malicious  disposition  towards  a  person, 
who  has  wronged  or  affr-onted  us,  is  as  remote  from  thq 
u  u 


300  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.  XXIII. 

spirit  of  Christian  forgiveness,  as  darkness  is  from  light, 
or  hell  from  heaven. 

Secondly.  This  duty  implies  a  sincere  desire  and  re- 
solved pursuit  of  the  welfai  e  of  those,  v\  ho  have  injured 
usj  and  a  heart  felt  satisfaction  in  thjir  temporal  and 
spiritual  prosperity.  This  is  the  immediate  fruit  of  that 
affectionate  good  will,  which,  as  wc  have  just  seen,  is 
included  in  forgiveness.  The  man,  therefore,  who 
thirsts  for  revenge  on  an  offending  brother,  and  eagerly 
lays  hold  of  opportunities  for  it ;  or  who  beholds  v^•ith 
pleasure  his  misfortunes  and  ruin,  has  a  spirit  directly 
opposite  to  that  of  the  text. 

Thirdly.  ^This  duty  requires  a  readiness  of  mind  to 
confer  with  tllfejoffending  party,  to  be  reconciled  to  him 
on  mild  and  equitable  terms,  and  upon  his  offering  due 
satisfaction,  to  comfort  him  with  a  frank  assurance  of 
our  forgiveness  and  kindness.  Consequently,  when  a 
person  observes  an  unreasonabl}^  distant  and  strange 
behav  iour  towards  an  offending  neighbour,  and  studious- 
ly avoids  every  opportunity  of  conversation  and  reconcile- 
ment ;  or  insists  on  very  rigid  terms  of  accommodation  ; 
or  lastly,  is  forced  into  a  reconciliation,  and  \vilh  great 
reluctance  expresses  his  forgiveness  ;  in  each  of  these 
cases  he  betrays  dark  symptoms  of  a  secret  grudge  or 
enmity,  inconsistent  with  the  Christian  spirit.  In  a 
word,  the  temper  of  forgiveness  in  us  must  be  habitual, 
constant,  and  universal ;  it  must  immediately  exert  it- 
self on  ever}-  occasion  of  provocation  or  injury  without 
waiting  for  the  offender  to  come  and  make  satisfaction  ; 
that  is,  w^  must  instantly  and  uninterruptedly  feel  toward 
him  such  a  frame  of  heart,  as  we  have  just  described, 
even  though  he  persists  in  his  offensive  conduct.  This 
is  evidently  implied  in  the  petition  before  us ;  which  di- 
rects us  to  exercise  a  forgiving  spirit  towards  all,  who 


Ser.  xxiil]        on  forgiveness.  501 

have  injured  us,  as  often  as  we  pray  to  God  for  his  par- 
doning mei  cy.  What  a  solemn  obligation  does  this  im- 
pose upon  us  to  cherish  a  constant  flow  of  good  \\'ill  to 
all,  even  to  our  most  unreasonable  and  persevering  foes ! 
In  another  place  our  Saviour  directs  his  disciples, 
"  when  ye  stand  praying,  forgive,  if  ye  have  ought 
against  any  man  ;  that  your  Father  in  heaven  may  for- 
give you."  Accordingly,  an  inspired  apostle  cautions 
us  "  not  to  let  the  sun  go  down  upon  our  wrath  ;"  for  in 
this  case  we  should  be  unfit  for  our  evening  devotions, 
and  could  not  lie  down  to  sleep  with  Christian  confidence 
and  peace.  The  same  apostle  directs  us,  whenever  and 
whereever  we  pray,  to  lift  up  holy  hands  wk/ioia  wrat/i. 

These  observations  suggest  an  important  distinction 
on  this  subject ;  I  mean  tlie  distinction  between  two 
kinds  of  forgiveness,  one  of  which  may  be  styled  h?ie'V'- 
olent,  the  other  complacential.  The  first  is  always  our 
duty  towards  all  men,  let  their  general  character,  or 
their  special  treatment  of  us  be  what  it  may.  The  cir- 
cumstance of  their  having  greatly  wronged  us,  or  of 
their  denying  us  Christian  satisfaction,  by  no  means  dis- 
solves or  even  lessens  our  obligation  to  forgive  them 
so  far,  as  to  treat  them  with  tender  compassion,  with 
cordial  and  active  benevolence.  But  complacential 
forgiveness  is  not  always  our  duty  ;  that  is,  we  are  not 
always  bound  to  restore  or  receive  the  offender  to  our 
bosom,  as  a  Christian  brother  and  friend  ;  for  the  mat- 
ter, spirit,  or  circumstances  of  his  offence  may  be  such, 
as  to  give  us  just  apprehensions,  that  he  is  not  a  sincere 
Christian  ;  or  at  least  such,  as  to  suspend  his  present 
right  to  Christian  privileges ;  in  which  case  we  are 
obliged,  by  gospel  rules,  to  withdraw  our  Christian 
confidence  and  fellowship  from  him,  till  by  credible  to^ 
J|s:ens  of  repentance  he  has  restored  himself  to  our  broth- 


S02  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Sir.  XXIII, 

erly  chanty.  The  want  of  accurate  or  serious  attention 
to  this  distinction  has  occasioned  great  mistakes  both  in 
opinion  and  practice.  Some,  on  the  one  hand,  have 
indulged  and  justified,  iDoth  in  themselves  and  others,  a 
spirit  and  conduct  towards  offenders,  directly  contrary 
to  humane  and  Christian  good  will,  upon  the  plea,  that 
these  persons  have  injured  or  have  justly  offend- 
ed them,  without  duly  confessing  or  repairing  the 
wrong,  and  therefore,  that:  they  are  under  no  obligation 
to  forgive  them.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  have  imbib- 
ed such  lax,  or  as  they  choose  to  term  it,  such  liberal 
notions  of  Christian  candour,  forgiveness,  and  charity, 
that  they  are  for  extending  them  to  almost  all  charac- 
ters indiscriminately  :  they  seem  disposed  to  tolerate,  or 
at  least  connive  at  considerable  ai  ;d  repea^^ed  irregularities 
in  their  brethren,  rather  than  exercise  the  rigid  and  pain, 
ful  discipline  of  private  reproof  and  public  censure  :  they 
plead,  that  our  divine  Master  commands  us  to  forgive 
an  offending  brother  not  only  seven  times,  but  seventy 
times  seven,  and  that,  if  he  trespass  against  us  seven 
times  in  a  day,  and  only  say,  /  repent^  we  are  directed  to 
receive  him  to  our  charity  ;  that  is,  say  these  interpre- 
ters, we  are  to  set  no  bounds  to  the  expressions  of  our 
Christian  lenity  and  forgi^'eness  towards  the  errors  and 
imperfections  of  our  brethren.  But  have  these  indul- 
gent critics  observed,  that  the  last  of  their  favourite  texts 
expressly  limits  the  tokens  of  our  charity,  by  suspend- 
ing them  on  this  condition,  if  he  turn  again  unto  thee^ 
end  say,  I  repent.  By  the  offender's  turning  again  unto 
us  is  meant  his  changing  his  disagreeable  conduct,  and 
turning  back  to  us  with  e\'ident  contrition  and  desire  of 
reconcilement :  accordingly,  the  phrase  of  turning  or 
returning  to  the  Lord  is  frequently  used  for  cordial  re- 
pentance of  sin,  and  reconciliation  to  God.     By  his 


Ser.  XXIII.l  ON  FORGIVENESS.  305 

sayings  I  repent^  is  doubtless  meant  an  apparently  sin- 
cere or  credible  exhibition  of  repentance ;  otherwise  he 
only  adds  insult  to  his  oftence,  and  thus  involves  him- 
self in  still  greater  scandal.  On  the  whole,  our  Saviour 
in  this  text  is  expressly  speaking  of  a  Christian  brother ; 
that  is,  one  who  in  the  main  appears  a  real  Christian. 
He  supposes  him  to  trespass  seuen  times  in  a  day^  that  is, 
to  be  often  surprised  by  natural  temper,  by  the  remain- 
ing force  of  old  vicious  habit,  or  by  pressing  outward 
temptation,  into  such  deviations  from  duty,  as  are  e\  i- 
dently  contrary  to  his  ruling  disposition  and  character. 
He  quickly  recollects  himself,  laments  his  sin,  volunta- 
rily turns  about,  and  confesses  it  to  his  offended  fellow 
Christian  with  natural  marks  of  evangelical  penitence. 
In  this  case  it  is  agreed  on  all  sides,  that  he  becomes  en- 
titled  to  our  brotherly  charity  and  communion,  as  though 
he  had  never  offended.  But  there  are  many  supposeable, 
yea  actual  instances  of  offence,  which  essentially  differ 
from  this  in  some  and  perhaps  in  all  the  particulars  just 
stated.  As  such  instances  do  not  fall  within  this  rule 
of  our  Saviour ;  of  course  the  guilty  offender  can  claim 
only  our  tender  compassion  and  benevolence,  but  have 
no  tide  to  our  peculiar  Christian  esteem  and  fellowship. 
Having  defined  the  nature  of  forgiving  our  debtors, 
let  us  briefly  advert  to  its  obligation  and  importance. 
These  are  strikingly  intimated  in  the  petition  before 
us.  For  here  we  urge  this  plea  for  divine  forgive- 
ness, and  take  this  encouragement  to  expect  it,  that 
\ve  feel  a  disposition  to  forgive  others.  The  particle  as 
used  by  Matthew  is  a  note  of  similitude,  not  of  equality  ; 
and  implies,  that  we  ought  in  this  respect  to  resemble 
the  divine  benevolence  and  mercy ;  and  the  particleyc?/- 
used  by  Luke  is  not  casual,  but  demonstrative ;  it  is  not 
a  plea  of  merit,  as  though  our  forgiving  others  were  a 


304     .  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.  XXIII. 

deserving  reason  of  God's  forgiving  us ;  but  a  plea  of 
grace,  implying  a  humble  assurance  of  his  pai'doning 
mercy,  arising  from  the  consciousness  that  his  Spirit  has 
formed  us  to  a  godlike,  forgiving  temper.  It  therefore 
imports,  that  the  exercise  of  such  a  temper  is  at  once 
our  important  duty,  and  a  necessary  and  certain  e\  i- 
dence  of  our  gracious  state.  Agreeably,  the  importance 
of  this  temper  is  inculcated  by  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
gospel.  This  spirit  is  emphatically  the  very  genius 
of  Christianity :  it  breathes  through  its  peculiar  doc* 
trines,  precepts,  institutions,  exaraples,  and  motives. 
It  is  eminently  enforced  by  the  views,  which  the  gospel 
gives  of  the  abounding  mercy  of  God,  and  of  the  life 
and  death,  the  mediatorial  undertaking  and  redemption 
of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  especially  of  the  import  of  his 
last  sufferings,  and  his  dying  prayer  for  his  murderers ; 
*'  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  M'hat  they 
do."  When  we  further  consider,  that  an  unforgiving 
and  revengeful  spirit  is  very  mean  and  odious  in  itself, 
and  unspeakably  tormenting  to  its  unhappy  subjects  ; 
that  it  violates  those  principles  of  mutual  equity  and 
brotherhood,  which  bind  men  together ;  that  it  unfits 
them  for  the  right  performance  both  of  religious,  social, 
and  personal  duties,  lays  them  open  to  a  thousand  temp- 
tations, proves  them  to  be  Satan's  children,  and  in  fine, 
that  it  naturally  as  well,  as  by  the  positive  decree  of 
God,  bars  men  from  final  happiness,  and  subjects  them 
to  endless  misery ;  when  we  duly  weigh  these  particu- 
lars, we  must  see  the  duty  in  question  to  be  infinitely 
important. 

I  must  add,  that  there  is  a  peculiar  propriety  in  ex- 
ercising this  spirit  towards  others,  when  we  solemnly 
ask  divine  forgiveness  for  ourselves  :  For  if  we  proper- 
ly feel  the  greatness  of  those  sins  against  the  infinite 


Ser.XXIII.]  on  forgiveness.  305 

God,  \\  hich  a\  e  request  him  to  pardon  ;  It  will  make 
the  offences  oi'  our  fellow  worms  against  us  appear  inex- 
pressibly small.  And  can  we  with  any  face  ask  him 
to  forgive  us  ten  thousand  talents,  if  we  will  not  forgive 
a  fellow  servant  an  hundred  pence  ?  Must  not  a 
due  sense  of  that  transcendent  ^uilt  in  ourselves,  the 
pardon  of  which  \\c  implore,  in  a  great  measure  anni- 
hilate, and  make  us  easily  forget  the  petty  WTongs  which 
others  have  done  to  us  ?  Especially  when  we  add  a  just 
view  of  the  greatness  of  God's  forgiving  mercy  display- 
ed in  Jesus  Christ.  Has  the  infinite  Being,  whom  I  had 
unspeakably  offended,  has  he  in  a  manner  equally  unso- 
licited and  undeserved  sent  his  Son  to  purchase,  his  gos- 
pel to  offer,  and  his  Spirit  to  apply  a  generous  and  full 
pardon  of  all  this  guilt ;  and  has  he  commanded  me  to 
show  my  gratitude  to  him  for  this  infinite  mercy  by 
manifesting  the  same  spirit  towards  my  offending  broth- 
er? And  can  I  refuse  so  small  a  return  of  acknoiA'ledg- 
ment?  O  my  soul,  God  freely  forgave  thee,  when  there 
was  nothing  to  oblige  or  enforce,  to  merit  or  even  desire 
it ;  and  shall  not  I  forgive  my  brother,  who  perhaps  de- 
sires and  claims  my  pardon  ?  or  if  not,  his  Master  and 
mine  enjoins  it.  This  frame  of  spirit  towards  others  is 
like\^  ise  peculiarly  suitable,  wlien  we  pray  for  di^'ine  for- 
giveness, because  it  qualifies  us  to  receive  it;  for  it  im- 
plies cordial  friendship  to  the  pardoning  benevolence  of 
Deity ;  it  implies  harmony  of  temper  ^vith  him.  In  the 
exercise  of  this  spirit  the  soul  sees  and  relishes  the  beau- 
ty of  God's  infinite  mercy.  He  loves  mercy,  loves  to 
exercise  it  himself,  and  is  pleased  with  the  exercises  of 
it  in  God ;  is  delighted  with  the  thought  of  being  in- 
debted to  infinite  mercy  for  his  entire  pardon  and  salva- 
tion. But  the  man,  w^io  has  an  unforgiving  disposition, 
is  unfit  to  receive  divine  forgiveness ;  for  he  is  an  enemy 


506  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.  XXIII. 

to  that  very  mercy  which  must  forgi\^e  him  ;  he  cannot, 
therefore,  sincerely  ask,  or  warrantably  expect  a  pardon 
from  it.  His  temper  and  conduct  to\vai"ds  others  con- 
tradict and  defeat  his  pretended  prayers.  Hence  God 
cannot  but  abhor  and  utterly  reject  his  petitions.  This 
is  strikingly  represented  in  the  parable  of  the  debtor  and 
creditor  in  the  eighteenth  of  Matthew. 

I  may  add,  how  can  we  go  to  God  in  prayer,  and 
profess  friendship  to  him,  if  we  have  no  love  to  our 
brother  ?  "  He,  who  loveth  not  his  brother,  vv^hom  he 
hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not 
seen?"  How  can  a  man  love  the  Father,  and  hate  his 
children ;  be  pleased  with  the  character  of  a  Being,  who 
is  infinitely  merciful  and  forgiving,  and  yet  be  unmerci- 
ful and  unforgiving  to  his  fellow  creatures?  It  appears, 
then,  that  a  spirit  of  love,  and  consequently  of  forgiveness 
towards  men,  is  the  inseparable  fruit  and  evidence  of  love 
to  God  ;  and  it  will  be  granted  by  all,  that  love  to  God 
is  an  important  ingredient  in  prayer,  particularly  in  otir 
petitions  for  his  pardoning  mercy.  Certainly  such  peti- 
tions ought  to  flo\v  from  a  heart  friendly  to  God  and  his 
law,  disposed  to  justify  and  exalt  him,  and  to  take  all  the 
blame  and  shame  of  sin  to  itself.  At  the  same  time,  it 
M'ill  not  follow,  that  the  convicted,  distressed  sinner,  who 
is  conscious  of  the  want  of  this  pious  affection  to  God, 
or  the  humble  Christian,  who  fears  he  is  destitute  of  it, 
has  no  encovnagement  to  pray  ibr  divine  forgiveness  ; 
for  the  former  may  feel  this  want  of  hol}^  love  to  be  a 
great  and  dangerous  sin,  and  as  such  may  confess  ar.d 
lament  it  before  God  with  at  least  as  much  sincerity,  as 
he  can  mention  it  to  an  earthly  friend ;  nor  can  1  fmd, 
that  such  confession  and  corresponding  petition,  which 
;tre  really  prompted  by  the  S{:)irit  of  God,  are  forbidden 
or  discouraged  in  his  word  :  and  such  a  sumer  may  beg 


Ser.  xxiil]         on  forgiveness.  507 

pardon  from  God  without  feeling  at  the  time  such  an  un- 
forgiving frame  of  mind  towards  men,  as  would  render 
his  prayer  an  abomination.  With  respect  to  the  doubt- 
ing Christian,  he  can  at  least  sincerely  adopt  the  accepta- 
ble petition  of  the  publican,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner  !" 

On  the  whole,  when  we  rightly  use  this  plea  for  di- 
vine forgiveness,  as  we  forghe  our  debtors  ;  we  heartily 
subscribe  to  that  divine  constitution,  which  suspends  our 
pardon  from  God  on  this  condition  ;  at  the  same  time 
we  feel,  that  this  act  of  forgiving  others  is  so  reasonable 
a  duty,  and  so  imperfecdy  performed,  that  it  gives  us  no 
meritorious  title  to  the  blessing  we  ask ;  and  likewise, 
that  it  is  not  an  adequate  pattern  or  measure  of  this 
blessing ;  for  we  too  often  find,  that  our  exercises  of 
forgiveness  are  mingled  with  piide,  resentment,  gi'udg- 
ing,  aversion  ;  but  we  need  and  desire  from  God  a  free, 
full,  frequent,  perpetual  remission.  We  likewise  realize 
and  cordially  acquiesce  in  the  righteous  and  good  provi- 
dence of  God  in  permitting  any  of  our  fellow  men  or 
Christians  to  injure  and  chastise  us,  and  cheerfully  trust, 
that  he  will  bless  this  afHiction  for  our  good.  Thus 
David  felt  under  the  curses  of  Shimei.  We  also  plead 
and  confide  in  those  many  free  and  rich  promises,  which 
God  has  made  to  merciful  charactci's.  \^^e  view  the 
forgiving  spirit,  with  which  he  has  inspired  us,  as  a 
proof  of  our  possessing  the  spirit  of  Christ,  ar.d  of  our 
consequent  title  by  the  gospel  covenant  to  pardon, 
acceptance,  and  eternal  life. 

In  reviewing  this  subject  we  are  ied  to  admire  the 
transcendent  superiority  of  our  religion  to  all  other  sys- 
tems, and  in  particular,  the  comprehensive  and  excellent 
spirit  of  the  Lord's  prayer,  especially  in  the  instance  be- 
fore us.  While  hauffhty  and  malig:nant  reveno'c  is 
w  w 


308  ON  FORGIVENESS.  [Ser.  XXIII. 

consecrated,  as  a  virtue,  by  other  schemes  of  moraUty  and 
honour ;  the  gospel  carries  forgiveness  and  beneficence 
toAvards  enemies  to  a  most  glorious  height,  and  enforces 
them  by  the  most  winning  and  commanding  motives  I 
How  worthy  is  such  a  religion  of  a  benevolent  Deity ! 
How  friendly  to  the  peace,  dignity,  and  happiness  of  his 
rational  offspring?  How  \\isely  and  efficaciously  does 
the  prayer  before  us  engage  us  to  the  practice  of  mutu- 
al forgiveness,  by  making  it  our  daily  plea  for  as  well 
as  the  express  condition  of  divine  pardon  ! 

Let  us  ail  seriously  examine  whether  we  possess  the  spir- 
it of  this  petition,  a  spirit  of  humble  penitence,  of  evangelic- 
al trust,  of  cordial  charity  and  forgiveness.  Can  we  read- 
ily forgive  the  most  injurious  and  malicious  human  crea- 
ture so  as  to  cherish  towards  him  unfeigned  benevolence 
and  compassion  ;  so  as  cheerfully  to  assist  and  comfort 
him  in  want  or  distress,  and  heartily  seek  and  rejoice  in 
his  amendment  and  prosperity  ?  Or  do  we  cherish  a  re- 
sentful, bitter,  vindictive  spirit,  which  takes  pleasure  in 
reporting  and  magnifying  his  faults,  in  \A'Ounding  his 
reputation  and  peace,  and  which  cannot  be  easy  without 
retaliating  the  injury  ?  If  the  latter  be  our  character,  it 
merits  our  solemn  consideration,  that  we  are  not  only 
condemned  by  the  whole  spirit  and  letter  of  the  gospel, 
but  that  we  cannot  repeat  the  Lord's  prayer  -widiout  vir- 
tually imprecating  upon  ourselves  the  vengeance  of 
Heaven ;  for  in  the  petition  of  our  text  sye  implicitly 
ask  God  to  treat  us,  as  we  treat  our  fellow  creatures  ; 
w'e  solemnly  profess  our  desire  to  stand  or  fall  by  this 
rule  ;  consequently,  the  unmerciful,  implacable  petition- 
er constructively  prays,  that  God  would  be  implacable 
towards  him,  that  he  v/ould  pursue  him  with  his  perpet- 
ual hatred  and  curse  !  What  an  aw  ful  reflection  !  May 
it  have  its  due  effect  on  those  fashionable  Christians,  and 


Ser.  XXIII.3  ON  FORGIVENESS.  309 

pretenders  to  honour,  ^\'ho  think  it  noble  to  revenge, 
and  ignominious  to  o\'erlook  an  affront !  With  Avhat 
face  can  such  men  call  themselves  Christians,  or  attempt 
to  offer  up  their  prayers  and  thanksgivings  for  the  infi- 
liite  mercy  of  God  and  the  Redeemer,  or  presume  to 
hope  for  their  own  final  pardon  and  salvation !  Let  all  of 
this  character,  and  every  soul  in  this  assembly,  seriously 
ponder  those  words  of  our  Lord — "  If  ye  forgive  men 
their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive 
you.  But  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neith- 
er will  your  Father  in  heaven  forgive  your  trespasses." 


sermon  xxiv. 


On  the  Connexion  between  denying   the 
Son  and  denying  the  Father. 


1  John  ii.  23. 

TFIiosocver  denieth  the  Son,  the  same  hath  not  the 
Father ;  but  he  that  achwwledgeth  the  Son,  hath  the 
Father  also. 


T 


HIS  first  epistle  of  John,  which  is  called  \\\s  general 
epistle,  that  is,  his  circular  letter  to  the  churches  at  large, 
was  intended  to  confirm  them  in  a  stedfast  adherence  to 
the  true  principles  and  practice  of  Christianity,  especial- 
ly to  those  great  doctrines,  which  respect  the  person  and 
ofiice  of  Jesus  Christ.  These  leading  truths  of  the  gos- 
pel were,  it  seems,  early  opposed  by  corrupt  and  seduc- 
ing teachers,  whom  our  apostle  calls  liars  and  antichrists, 
because  they  vented  the  most  shocking  and  pernicious 
falselioods  against  Christ  and  his  religion.  In  the  verse 
jpreceding  the  text  he  tells  us,  that  these  antichrists  de- 
nied both  the  Father  and  the  Son  ;  that  is,  by  opposing 
Christ  in  his  true  character  and  doctrine,  they  denied  die 
testimony  of  the  Father  concerning  him,  and  opposed 
the  character  and  "vvill  of  God,  as  perfectly  revealed  in  and 
by  his  Son,  who  is  his  best,  his  most  glorious  image  and 
messenger.  Hence  he  justly  infers,  in  the  words  before 
us,  "  Whosoever  denieth  the  Son,  the  same  hatli  not  the 
Father  ;  but  he  that  acknowledgeth  the  Son,  hath  the 
Father  also."     As  if  he  had  said.  He  who  denies  Christ, 


Ser.XXIV.]     connexion  between,  Sec.  su 

or  the  peculiarities  of  his  gospel,  has  no  true  and  saving 
know  lecige  of  or  interest  in  God  ;  he  has  no  friend:sir!p 
even  to  naiLiral  religion ;  he  is  an  atheist  in  his  secret 
disposition,  if  not  in  his  open  profession  and  practice. 
But  he,  who  sincerely  acknowledges  the  Son,  honours 
and  pleases  the  Father  also ;  for  there  is  such  a  perfect 
union  between  God  and  his  Son,  between  the  religion 
of  nature  and  the  gospel,  that  a  hearty  friendship  to  one 
implies  and  promotes  an  equal  affection  to  the  other. 

The  words  thus  explained  will  lead  us  to  show  at 
iaree  the  intimate  connexion  between  deism  and  athe- 
ism  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  between  a  true  be- 
lief and  acknowledgment  of  Christ  and  his  gospel,  and  a 
sincere  respect  to  God  the  Father. 

A  subject  of  this  kind  is  not  only  adapted  to  a 
sacramental  occasion,  which  calls  many  of  us  to  an  open, 
renewed  acknowledgment  of  the  Son  of  God,  but  is  also 
eminently  suited  to  the  present  alarming  state  of  the 
Christian  world,  and  particularly  of  our  own  country, 
which  is  remarkable  for  the  increase  both  of  speculative 
and  practical  infidelity ;  an  infidelity,  Avhich  pours  ex^ 
plicit  or  im])lied  contempt  on  the  great  Redeemer  of  the 
world,  or  at  least  on  the  most  essential  truths  and  precepts 
of  his  gospel.  It  therefore  highly  becomes  the  professed 
friends,  and  especially  the  public  teachers  of  Christianity, 
to  contribute  their  utmost  to  repel  and  destroy  this  com- 
mon enemy  of  God  and  man,  and  to  strengthen  them-? 
selves  and  their  surrounding  connexions  in  a  firm 
attachment  to  the  principles  and  duties  of  oiu'  holy  re- 
ligion. To  promote  this  great  end  is,  indeed,  the  main 
design,  not  only  of  the  Lord's  su])per,  but  of  all  public 
Christian  institutions.  Perhaps  this  end  cannot  be  bet- 
ter promoted  than  by  a  serious  attention  to  the  subject 
before  us  ;  a  subject,  which  places  in  the  most  awful 


312  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  THE      [Ser.  XXIV. 

and  striking  view  the  importance  of  a  hearty  and  resoUite 
acknowledg-nient  of  Christ,  and  the  transcendent  guilt 
and  misery  of  denj^ing  liim. 

The  justness  of  this  representation  will  appear,  if  wc 
consider  the  following  particulars  : 

First.  The  gospel  of  Christ  gives  us  the  best  account 
oftlie  character  and  government  of  the  true  God,  and  of 
all  those  doctrines  and  duties,  which  are  usually  styled 
natural  religion.  Consequently,  whoever  heartily  be- 
lieves in  God,  and  is  a  friend  to  rational  piety  and  virtue, 
must  reverence  and  delight  in  the  gospel  of  Christ  ;  and 
on  the  contrary,  whoever  hates  or  denies  the  latter,  pro- 
claims himself  an  enemy  to  the  former.  The  religion  of 
Jesus  unfolds,  confirms,  and  improves  those  great  princi- 
ples of  piety  and  morality,  which  respect  both  the 
existence,  perfections,  and  providence  of  one  Supreme 
Being,  and  the  origin,  duty,  and  expectations  of  man, 
his  reasonable  creature.  It  teaches  the  essential  differ- 
ence, the  true  nature,  the  wide  extent,  and  everlasting 
rewards  both  of  virtue  and  vice.  It  inculcates,  and  car- 
ries to  the  highest  pitch  of  perfection,  every  branch  of 
moral  goodness,  whether  personal,  social,  or  divine. 
In  short,  it  reflects  the  brightest  glory  upon  the  nature 
and  administration  of  God,  and  is  admirably  fitted  to 
ennoble  and  perfect  the  character  of  man.  Agreeably, 
it  is  a  notorious  fact,  that  the  most  weak  and  i":norant 
disciples  of  Christ  haAC  far  more  just,  comprehensiv^e, 
and  elevated  conceptions  of  a  Supreme  Being,  and  of 
every  religious  and  moral  suloject,  than  the  most  pro- 
found and  learned  sages  of  the  heathen  Morld  have  ever 
attained.  It  is  equally  evident,  that  the  dispositions, 
manners,  and  real  enjoyments  of  Christian  believers  have 
been  refined  and  improved  in  proportion  to  their  serious 
regard  to  the  great  doctrines,  requirements,  and  motives 


Ser.XXIV.]  father  and  son.  513 

of  the  gospel.  Even  the  enemies  of  our  rehgion  are  in 
general  unspeakably  indebted  to  early  Christian  educa- 
tion and  habit,  and  to  those  public  institutions,  senti- 
ments, and  manners,  which  revelation  has  founded  and 
supported.  From  these  sources  many  deists  in  Chris- 
tian countries  evidently  derive  that  degree  of  religious 
kno\\ledge,  of  moral  restraint  and  improvement,  of 
private  and  social  happiness,  by  which  they  are  dis- 
tinguished from  ancient  and  modern  heathens. 

Do  not  these  observations  clearly  evince,  that  the  gos- 
pel of  Cluist  is  a  \^ery  important  friend,  yea,  is  the  maia 
support  of  natural  religion  and  virtue  ?  Must  not,  then, 
every  sincere  believer  and  promoter  of  the  latter  be  dis- 
posed to  embrace  and  propagate  the  belief  and  practice 
of  the  former  ?  Must  not  every  real  and  devout  friend  of 
the  one  true  God  rejoice  in  an  institution,  which  places 
his  character,  providence,  and  Avorship,  and  the  way  to 
please  and  enjoy  him,  in  a  light  so  plain,  so  satisfactory, 
and  honourable  ?  Must  not  every  lover  of  virtue  wish  to 
guard  and  promote  its  interests  both  in  himself  and 
others,  by  those  high  precepts  and  motives,  which  the 
gospel  presents  ?  In  short,  will  not  every  true  patriot  and 
philanthropist  desire  to  bless  his  country  and  the  world 
by  diffusing  as  widely  as  possible  the  beneficent  influ- 
ence of  Christian  principles  and  virtues  ?  Must  we  not 
hence  conclude,  that  "  he  who  denies  the  Son  hath  not 
the  Father;"  that  he,  who  rejects  the  great  Representa- 
tive, the  benevolent  Ambassador  pf  God  to  men,  is  un- 
friendly to  God  himself ;  that  he,  who  resists  the  abun- 
dant evidence,  the  excellent  doctrine  and  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity, does  in  his  heart  oppose  the  similar  proofs  and 
doctrines  of  natural  religion  ?  A  man  must  first  deter- 
mine to  Ihc  like  an  atheist ;  lie  must  possess  such  feel- 
ings and  habits,  as  rebel  against  the  authority  and  com- 


314  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  THE      [Ser.XXIV. 

mands  of  God ;  he  must  make  it  necessary  to  his  inter- 
est and  comfort,  that  there  should  be  no  such  Deity  or 
future  retribution,  as  the  Bible  reveals,  before  he  can  re- 
nounce and  malignantly  oppose  the  Christian  system. 
Accordingly,  the  infidelity  of  the  present  day  has,  in 
many  instances,  assumed  the  consistent  form  of  com- 
plete and  civowed  atheism ;  while,  in  other  instances,  it 
has  questioned  or  exploded  some  of  the  most  essential 
principles  and  motives  of  rational  piety  and  morals  ;  at 
best,  its  votaries  have  not  been  such  devout  and  virtu- 
ous characters,  such  candid,  serious,  and  diligent  in- 
quirers after  truth,  as  even  the  light  of  nature  taught 
them  to  be.  No  wonder,  that  such  enemies  to  God 
and  to  virtue  should  oppose  such  a  system,  as  Christian- 
ity ;  nor  is  it  strange,  that  they,  who  reject  the  gospel, 
which  is  the  grand  prop  of  sound  religion  and  moral- 
ity, should  sink  into  all  the  darkness  and  profligacy  of 
atheism. 

Secondly.  The  truth  of  our  text  ^vill  still  further 
appear,  if  we  view  the  gospel  not  only,  as  a  publication 
and  enforcement  of  the  religion  of  nature,  but,  as  a  new 
diF.pejisation  of  grace  ^  which  is  carrying  on  by  the  Son 
and  Spirit  of  God  for  the  restoration  of  an  apostate  and 
ruined  world.  In  this  viev.',  Christianity  is  a  glorious, 
supernatural  scheme  of  truth  and  duty,  which  reason  and 
nature,  in  their  highest  improvements,  could  never  have 
investigated.  It  is  true,  that  iiauire,  conscious  of  guilt, 
and  apprehending  the  displeanure  of  a  v.ise,  holy,  and 
justly  offended  Lawgiver  and  Judge,  might  feel  the 
w  ant,  and  cherish  the  trembling  hope  of  some  such  mer- 
ciful interposition,  as  revelation  unfolds.  But  it  is  the 
gospel  of  Christ  alone,  which  assures  us  of  an  actual 
scheme  of  reconcilement,  in  all  respects  adapted  to  the 
"wants  and  ^\  ishcs  of  nature.     The  gospel  only^gives  us 


Ser.XXIV.]  father  and  son.  315 

such  discoveries  of  God,  as  are  fitted  to  encourage  the 
repentance,  and  engage  the  filial  love  and  cheerfal  obe- 
dience of  conscious  offenders.  The  doctrine  of  Christ 
exhibits  the  Deity  to  our  view  in  the  full  orbed  lustre  of 
his  wisdom,  purity,  justice,  and  mercy,  harmoniously- 
uniting,  yea,  gloriously  triumphing  in  the  pardon  and 
salvation  of  the  penitent  sinner.  This  knowledge  of  a 
reconcileable,  forgiving  God  is  very  important  in  the  re- 
ligion of  a  follen  creature.  But  the  light  of  nature  could 
give  us  no  satisfaction  on  this  point ;  it  could  not  dis- 
co\er  how  far  and  in  what  way  the  pardon  of  transgres- 
sors might  consiot  w'l'di  the  honour  and  good  pleasure 
of  our  offended  Sovereign,  and-  Vvith  the  general  safety 
and  welfare  of  his  moral  subjects. 

If  then  we  believe  in  God,  as  our  Supreme  Ruler  and 
Judge,  who  is  justly  displeased  with  our  transgressions, 
and  at  the  same  time  are  friends  to  his  perfect  but  injur- 
ed government  and  law  ;  shall  we  not  gladly  believe  ia 
his  Son  Jesus  Cliiist,  Avho  came  to  inform  us,  that  this 
offended  and  majestic  Being  is  still  ready  to  pardon  and 
bless  us  in  the  way  of  humble  repentance  ;  that  on  this 
condition  he  can  and  will  receive  us  to  favour,  con- 
sistently with  his  own  dignity  and  the  general  good  ? 
If  \\Q  believe  in  and  adore  God,  as  a  Being  infinitely 
perfect  and  glorious,  can  we  fail  to  believe  in  and  to 
honour  his  Son,  who  is  the  brightness  of  that  glory,  v/ho 
is  the  visible  and  perfect  image  of  the  invisible  Deity, 
and  in  whose  face  the  glory  of  the  Godhead  shines  with 
a  mollified  and  endearing  lustre?  Shall  we  not  rejoice 
to  hear,  that  the  high  and  lofty  One,  whom  nature  awful- 
ly contemplates,  as  infinitely  above  us,  has  come  down 
to  us  in  the  person  of  his  Son,  has  united  himself  to  our 
riature,  assumed  a  personal  and  bodily  form,  and  thus 
presented  himself  to  our  viev/  in  the  most  near,  famil- 

X    X 


516  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  THE      [Ser.XXIV. 

iar,  and  engaging  attitude ;  so  that  we  can  now  say  with 
an  exalting  voice,  "  Behold,  th'e  tabernacle  of  God  is 
with  men,  and  he  will  dwell  with  them;"  yea,  God 
himself,  in  the  person  of  his  Son,  shall  be  sensibly  with 
them,  and  be  their  God.  When  by  faith  "  we  come 
to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  new  coveiiaiit,^'  in  whom 
God  and  man  are  brought  together,  we  hereby  come 
to  "  God  the  Judge  of  all,"  and  thus  have  the  most 
comforting  advantages  for  knowing  and  imitating  his 
perfect  character,  for  enjoying  his  friendly  presence  and 
intercourse. 

I  cannot  help  stopping  in  this  place  to  reflect  more 
particularly  on  the  transcendent  excellency  of  the  gos- 
pel in  this  respect,  compared  with  the  light  of  nature 
and  reason.  The  bare  volume  of  nature  gives  us  only 
the  idea  of  a  glorious,  mysterious  power  diffused  tlirough 
and  animating  the  universe ;  but  in  contemplating  this 
power,  the  mind  acquires  no  distinct  view  of  a  proper 
person,  possessing  a  definite  moral  character ;  but  it 
rather  loses  itself  in  a  confused,  unintelligible,  abstract 
idea,  which  it  styles  nature,  the  laws  and  powers  of  mat- 
ter and  motion,  or  the  soul  of  the  world.  But  the  gos- 
pel, by  holding  up  distinctly  to  our  view  the  person  and 
actions  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  visible  representative  of 
Deity,  collects  our  scattered  and  confused  ideas  to  one 
definite  and  luminous  point ;  it  fixes  our  views,  not  on 
an  unintelligible  phantom,  which  modern  philosophists- 
call  nature,  but  upon  a  real  and  divinely  glorious  per- 
son ;  and  thus  brings  our  wandering  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions to  rest  in  their  proper  centre,  in  the  knowledge, 
worship,  and  resemblance  of  the  one  true  God  manifest- 
ed in  the  person  of  his  Son. 

While  the   perfections  and   will  of   God  are  thus 
brought  down  to  us  in  the  person,  doctrine,  andacticMis' 


Ser.XXIV.]  father  and  son.  317 

of  the  divine  Saviour ;  his  mediation  and  atoning  sacri- 
Jice  render  it  safe  and  honourable  for  the  Supreme  Ruler 
to  remit  our  offences,  and  restore  us  to  his  favour. 
This  doctrine  of  the  mediatorial  obedience  and  suffer- 
ings of  an  innocent  and  glorious  Person  for  the  benefit  of 
tlie  guilty,  is  not  only  a  conspicuous  feature  in  the  gos- 
pel plan,  but  highly  approves  itself  to  those,  who  have 
right  apprehensions  of  l[jod  and  themselves,  and  of  the 
general  constitution  of  nature  and  providencCo  A  just 
impression  of  tlie  moral  character  and  government  of 
Deity,  of  M'hat  he  owes  to  himself  and  his  dominions,  of 
our  own  guilty  rebellion  against  him,  and  the  consequent 
maiks  of  his  displeasure,  felt  or  apprehended,  will  make 
lis  feel  the  importance  of  some  Mediator  and  atonement, 
to  conciliate  his  forfeited  favour.  Upon  this  basis  has 
been  founded  the  general  practice  of  propitiatory  obla- 
tions in  the  Gentile  ^^'orld,  and  especially  the  priesthood 
and  sacrifices  as  well,  as  principal  predictions  and 
promises,  of  the  Jewish  dispensation.  Indeed,  the 
general  series  of  events,  both  in  the  natural  and  moral 
\vorld,  which  is  produced  by  the  mediation  of  secondary- 
causes  or  agents,  is  a.constant  illustration  of  tlie  mediato- 
rial scheme  of  tlie  gospel.  Mediators  or  middle  persons 
are  the  constant  instruments  of  good  and  e\'il  to  man- 
kind. Thus  parents  are  the  great  mediums  of  good  or 
ill  to  their  dependent  offspring'.  Yea,  the  innocent  are 
daily  appointed  to  suffer  for  the  faults  and  the  benefit  of 
the  guilty.  It  becomes,  in  many  cases,  our  indispensa- 
ble duty  to  interpose,  and  at  the  expense  of  great  labour 
and  suffering  on  our  part,  to  rescue  others  from  difficul- 
ties, into  which  their  own  follies  and  vices  had  plunged 
them,  in  defiance  perhaps  of  our  best  admonitions  and 
examples.  In  this  way  virtuous  parents  often  become 
great,  yea,  the  principal  sufferers  by  the  misconduct  of 


318  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  THE     [Ser.  XXIV. 

their  children  ;  and  virtuous  children  by  the  vices  of 
their  parents.  Vicarious  punishment  then,  or  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  is  a  divine  constitu- 
tion, notified  to  us  by  daily  experience. 

If  therefore  we  believe  in  God,  as  really  and  justly  or- 
dering things  in  this  manner,  in  the  general  course  of  his 
providence  ;  shall  we  not  believe  the  propriet}-  and  real- 
itv  of  a  similar',  thou  eh  fer  more  iilustrious  instance  of 

.J  '  o 

mediation  and  vicarious  suffering,  exhibited  in  the  gos- 
pel, the  truth  and  importance  of  which  are  so  amply  at- 
tested ;  and  which,  indeed,  is  explicitly  interwoven  M'ith 
the  whole  scheme  of  Christianity,  and  is  supported  by 
the  same  proofs  with  the  system  at  large?  Shall  we  not 
gladly  receive,  and  even  triumph  in  the  atoning  sacrifice 
of  Christ,  when  we  have  such  evidence,  that  God  himself 
has  appointed  and  accepted  it,  and  when  our  own  situ- 
ation and  feelings,  as  guilty,  obnoxious  offenders,  con- 
cur with  the  general  sense  of  mankind  in  eagerly  looking 
and  crying  for  such  an  expedient?  Shall  our  ungrateful 
and  foolish  pride  spurn  the  benefit  of  this  atonement, 
merely  because  we  cannot  comprehend  all  the  reasons 
and  ends  of  its  appointment,  or  the  precise  manner  in 
which  it  procures  our  forgiA^eness  ?  Shall  we  dare,  with 
atheistical  blasphemers,  to  reproach  this  contrivance,  as 
absurd  and  unjust,  merely  because  it  holds  up  God  tlie 
Father,  as  subjecting  his  meritorious  and  beloved  Son  to 
torment  and  death  in  the  room  of  guilty  mankind?  Does 
not  this  reproach  equally  implicate  the  known  and  com- 
mon proceedings  of  divine  providence  ?  Is  it  not  com- 
pletely obviated  by  the  \^oluntary  consent  of  the  Son  of 
God  to  these  vicarious  sufferings,  and  the  consequent 
glorious  reward,  which  he  received  for  enduring  them  ? 
While  the  gospel  thus  provides  a  complete  atonement 
and  pardon  for  our  guilt,  it  offers  and  communicates  the 


Ser.XXIV.]  father  and  son.  319 

sanctifying  and  tomforting  Spirit,  to  purify  and  strength- 
en our  natures,  depraved  and  enfeebled  by  sin,  and  to 
restore  them  to  moral  rectitude  and  tranquillity.  If  we 
have  just  views  of  God  and  oursehes,  we  must  see,  that- 
our  true  perfection  and  happiness  consist  in  resemblin^^ 
and  enjoying  him ;  and  that  our  minds,  antecedently  to 
the  renewing  grace  of  the  gospel,  are  strangely  alienat- 
ed from  and  indisposed  to  tiiis  resemblance  and  enjoy- 
ment. Even  some  of  the  wiser  heathens  felt  and  ac- 
knoAvledged  this  degeneracy  of  human  nature,  and  their 
need  of  supernatural  aid  to  restoie  them  to  virtue  and 
happiness.  Shall  vre  not  then  highly  prize  and  joyfully 
embrace  that  divine  Redeemer,  "  who  of  God  is  made 
unto  us,  not  only  wisdom  and  righteousness,  but  sanctifi- 
cation  ;"  who  makes  us  "  willing  in  the  day  of  his 
poAver,"  and  who  sends  the  promised  Comforter  to  dwell 
in  the  hearts  of  his  people,  as  a  perpetual  spring  of  holi- 
ness and  joy  ?  If  we  acknowledge  God,  as  the  prime 
Efficient,  e\'en  in  our  common  actions  and  enjoyments, 
shall  we  proudly  disoA\  n  our  dependence  on  his  gracious 
influence  for  those  unspeakably  greater  blessings,  which 
are  implied  in  a  truly  virtuous  and  happy  state  of  our 
souls  ?  Shall  \\t  reject  or  ridicule  the  offered  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  merely  because  we  cannot  comprehend  the 
mode  of  his  operation  ;  when  we  are  confessedly  igno- 
rant of  the  manner  of  divine  agency  in  the  world  of  na- 
ture ?  If  we  deny  the  doctrine  of  divine  influences  in 
the  kingdom  of  grace,  do  aac  not  virtually  deny  it  in  the 
kingdom  of  pro\'idence  ?  And  does  not  this  denial  im- 
ply or  betray  an  atheistical  spirit  ? 

Further.  If  we  believe  in  God,  as  the  Father  of  our 
spirits,  which  must  shordy  return  to  him  that  gave 
them  ;  if  we  belicAe,  upon  the  footing  of  reason,  that  he 
has  destined  us  for  another  and  everlasting  world ;  we 


520  CONNEXION  BETWEEN,  He.      [Ser-XXIT. 

shall  gladly  believe  in  One,  who  will  gire  us  certain  infor- 
mation of  that  unknown  region ;  who  will  undertake  to 
guide  us  to  it ;  who  will  stand  our  friend  in  the  last  de- 
cisive trial,  and  secure  our  acquittance  and  happiness  in 
the  state  of  retribution. 

How  very  poor  is  the  most  refined  system  of  pa- 
gan philosophy/,  or  of  modern  infidelity,  compared 
with  the  divine  philosopliy  of  die  Bible  !  What  no- 
ble sentiments  and  exalted  consolations  docs  the  lat- 
ter inspire  in  the  most  trying  and  distressful  situations ! 
What  was  the  boasted  patience  and  fortitude  of  ancient 
stoics  and  recent  imbelievcrs  amidst  the  evils  of  life, 
the  agonies  of  death,  or  the  anguish  of  bereavement? 
What  but  an  inhuman  and  gloomy  apathy,  founded  in 
the  extinction  of  the  best  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  inca- 
pacity of  supporting  it  in  seasons  of  extremity  !  But 
Christianity,  far  from  suppressing,  accommodates  itself 
to  our  natural  sensibilities ;  it  permits  and  regulates,  it 
sooths  and  refines  our  tender  passions  under  afflictive 
events,  while  it  improves  these  events,  and  the  sorrow 
they  produce,  as  frcoh  and  powerful  means  of  promot- 
ing both  our  present  virtue  and  future  bliss.  Should  we 
not  then  welcome  to  our  hearts  that  divine  religion, 
which  provides  a  sovereign  balm  for  every  wound ; 
mhich  consoles  bleeding  friendship  and  love  under  the 
dissolution  of  the  tenderest  connexions  ;  which  soft- 
ens the  pillow  of  sic];ness  and  death  even  to  the  most 
timid  and  feeble  of  its  votaries ;  which  has  enabled 
thousands  of  Christians,  of  every  age,  sex,  and  condi- 
tion to  triumph  over  the  last  enemy,  even  in  its  most 
terrible  forms — "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave^ 
where  is  thy  victory?'* 


l^crmon  xxv. 


Religion  the  one  Thing  needful.^ 


W 


Luke  x.  42. 
But  one  thing  is  needful. 


HEN  our  Lord  uttered  these  words,  he  was  on  a 
visit  to  an  amiable  family,  consisting  of  Lazai'us  and  his 
two  sisters,  Martha  and  Mary,  each  of  whom  was  a  de- 
voted and  beloved  friend  of  Jesus  Christ.  On  this  oc- 
casion, however,  the  two  sisters  honoured  their  divine 
Guest  in  very  different  modes.  Mary,  tlirowing  aside- 
every  worldly  concern,  gave  herself  up  to  his  improving 
conversation.  She  "  sat  at  his  feet,"  in  the  usual  pos- 
ture of  a  disciple,  "  and  heard  his  word. "  But  the  elder" 
sister,  anxious  to  provide  an  entertainment  worthy  of  so 
illustrious  a  Person,  encumbered  herself  \^ith  unseason- 
able and  excessive  care ;  and  in  the  hurry  of  business 
came  to  Jesus  with  a  peevish  complaint  against  Mary 
for  sitting  idle  at  so  pressing  a  time ;  which  complaint 
is  so  expressed,  as  to  implicate  Christ  himself.  "  Lord, 
dost  thou  not  care  that  my  sister  hath  left  me  to  ser\^e 
alone?  bid  her  therefore  that  she  help  me."  We  must 
be  permitted  to  observe  here,  that  those  persons  give 
not  the  best  kind  of  welcome  to  the  visits  of  their  friends, 
who,  like  this  good  woman,  appear  anxious,  troubled, 

•  This  was  the  last  sermon,  Avhich  Dr.  Tappan  preached.  It  was  de- 
livered to  the  Christian  society  in  Brattle  street,  Boston,  August  7,  1803. 
He  expired  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  the  same  month. 


322  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Ser.XXV. 

or  mortified  on  the  subject  of  entertaining  them,  what- 
ever kindness  or  respect  may  be  the  ground  of  this 
appearance. 

Our  Lord,  in  the  words  which  include  our  text,  re- 
proves this  immoderate  carefuhiess.  "  And  Jesus 
answered  and  said,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and  troub- 
led about  many  things  ;  but  one  thing  is  needful :  and 
l^lary  hath  chosen  that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be 
taken  away  from  her."  As  the  "  many  tilings,"  which 
at  this  time  unduly  occupied  the  attention  of  one  sister, 
are  here  opposed  to  "  the  one  thing"  declared  to  be  ex- 
clusively "needful,"  and  to  "  the  good  part"  chosen 
by  the  other,  and  which  could  not  be  taken  from  her ; 
■we  may  certainly  conclude,  that  this  "one  thing"  means 
Religion,  or  the  predominant  care  of  the  soul,  as  op- 
posed to  those  multiplied  earthly  solicitudes,  which  en- 
gross and  distract  the  children  of  this  world,  and  which 
sometimes  vex  and  defile  even  the  best  of  Christians. 

I  propose  therefore  in  the  following  discourse  to  illus- 
trate and  enforce  this  great  truth,,  that  religion  is  the  one 
thing  necessary. 

By  religion  we  intend  a  supreme  regard  to  God  and 
duty,  or  a  prevailing  concern  for  our  ovrn  eternal  salva- 
tion. These  tw^o  ideas  cannot  be  separated ;  for  as  God 
wills  our  final  happiness  in  the  way  of  holiness,  so  by 
properly  seeking  our  own  salvation  v\  e  effectually  please, 
obey,  and  honour  our  Creator  ;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
so  far,  as  we  devote  ourselves  to  him,  v/e  necessarily 
secure  and  enjoy  the  higliest  felicit}-.  Accordingly,  to 
glorify-  God  and  enjo}-  him  forever  constitutes  the  one 
chief  business  and  happiness  of  man.  I  ^\•ould  further 
remark,  that,  though  religion  is  made  up  of  many  differ- 
ent ]:>arts,  ^vliich  respect  a  great  variety  of  actions,  ob- 
jects, and  ends,  yet  it  is  justly  denominated  one  thing;- 


Ser.XXV.]  one  thing  needful.  323 

because  these  several  parts,  far  from  interfering  with 
each  other,  hke  the  different  passions  and  pursuits  of 
the  worldly  man,  are  harmoniously  connected.  They 
mutually  beget  or  improve  each  other,  and  go  to  consti- 
tute one  beautiful  and  perfect  whole.  Thus  the  piety 
and  morality,  the  internal  holiness  and  external  obedi" 
ence  of  the  good  man  are  but  one  thing  under  diiTerent 
names  and  modifications :  for  they  all  have  one  origin, 
viz.  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  they  flow  from  one  principle,  viz. 
an  upright  heart ;  they  produce  one  general  effect,  the 
gi'ow  ing  virtue  and  peace  of  their  possessor  ;  they  are 
offered  to  and  accepted  by  the  Deity  through  one  Medi- 
ator, Jesus  Christ ;  they  seek  and  finally  terminate  in 
the  same  great  ends,  the  glory  of  God  and  the  highest 
happiness  of  man.  We  may  add,  that,  where  true  piety 
prevails,  it  sanctifies  even  the  natural  affections,  the  in- 
nocent acquired  habits,  and  all  the  civil  actions  and  en- 
joyments of  its  subject,  and  renders  them  so  many  in- 
struments or  branches  of  religion  ;  insomuch,  that  the 
real  Christian,  "  whatever  he  does,  in  word  or  deed,  does 
all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Whether  he  eats  or 
drinks,  or  v  hatever  he  does,  he  does  all  to  the  glory  of 
God."  In  short,  all  his  views,  exercises,  and  pleas- 
ures are  consecrated,  limited,  or  subdued  by  one  all- 
pervading,  all  controlling  principle  of  rectitude. 

As  religion  is  thus  but  one  things  so  it  may  be  justly 
styled  the  one  thing  needful ;  because  it  is  necessary  in 
a  sense,  which  is  absolute,  transcendent,  and  universal. 
When  we  contemplate  the  necessity  of  religion,  so  many 
argumicnts  rush  upon  our  minds,  that  we  scaicely  know 
where  to  begin,    or  where  to  end. 

In  the  First  place,  the  importance  of  religion  appears 
fiom  a  consideration  of  that  Being,  who  is  its  principal 

Y  V 


324  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Srr.  XXV. 

object.  True  piety  is  chiefiy  employed  in  knowiiig 
and  loving,  in  resembling  and  honouring  tlie  Deity  ;  m 
receiving  and  reflecting  his  moral  glory.  As  the  mor- 
al rectitude  of  Jehovah  is  the  sum  and  crown  of  his  in- 
finite excellence,  so  \ital  religion  is  a  li\ ing  copy,  a 
visible  though  imperfect  display  of  this  divine  excel- 
lence. Hence  it  is  called  tlie  image  and  life  of  God,  a 
participation  of  his  nature,  a  showing  forth  of  his  virtues 
and  praises  :  the  subject  of  it  is  said  to  Ix^  one  with 
God,  to  co-operate  and  ha\'e  fellowship  with  him,  to  be 
filled  wiih  his  fulness,  and  to  enter  into  his  joy.  What 
beauty,  dignity,  and  happiness  do  these  expressions  con- 
vey !  How  inconceivably  important  then  is  religion, 
which  unites  man  to  Deity ;  Avhich  renders  him  the  im- 
age and  the  instrument  of  his  glory,  and  thus  directly 
promotes  the  chief  end  of  our  being!  The  man,  who 
is  a  stranger  to  religion,  lives  without  God  in  the  world  ; 
he  robs  his  Maker  of  that  honour,  and  himself  of  that 
perfection,  for  which  his  reasonable  nature  Avas  chiefly 
designed.     This  leads  us  to  observe, 

n.  That  the  necessity  of  religion  further  appears 
from  the  ?iawre  a?id  value  of  the  Iniman  soul.  The  pre- 
eminence of  man  above  the  brutes  lies  in  the  powers 
and  capacities  of  his  mind.  Now  religion  directs  these 
powers  to  their  proper  objects  ;  it  at  once  enlarges  and 
fills  these  capacities.  It  strengthens  and  satisfies  the 
understanding  with  that  divine  knowledge,  which  is  its 
noblest  food  and  entertainment.  It  purifies  and  regu- 
lates the  will.  It  harmonizes,  exalts,  and  gratifies  the  af- 
fections. It  relieves  and  solaces  the  wounded  conscience. 
Jt  inspires  that  inward  peace,  which  is  the  sunshine  of 
the  soul,  and  the  dawn  of  heaven. 

But  without  religion  the  soul  cannot  enjoy  peace,  and 
of  course  the  man  cannot  be  happy.     For  happiness  or 


Ser.  XXV.]  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  325 

misery  flows  not  so  much  from  exterior  circumstances, 
as  from  the  internal  state  of  the  mind.  Now  a  rational 
mind,  ^\  hich  feels  no  love  to  its  infinite  Creator  and  Ben- 
efactor, no  delight  in  the  Supreme  Good,  no  confidenjse 
in  the  favour  of  Him,  on  whom  its  eternal  fate  depends, 
must  be  inwardly  poor  and  wretched,  though  surround- 
ed with  all  the  sources  of  caithiy  felicity.  Such  a  crea- 
ture must  feel  himself  in  an  unnatural,  distempered, 
and  therefore  painful  condition.  He  must  feel  the  tor- 
ture of  desires  unsatisfied,  of  faculties  prostituted,  of 
hopes  disappointed  ;  of  passions  at  once  contradictory, 
clamorous,  and  u.nbounded ;  he  must,  whenever  he  so- 
berly reflects,  endure  the  anguisli  and  terror,  inflicted  by 
an  upbraiding  conscience  and  a  frowning  God.  His  on- 
ly refuge  from  this  anguish  is  in  thoughtless  dissipa- 
tion, or  in  a  rapid  succession  of  worldly  pursuits  and  in- 
dulgences. But  this  refuge  forsakes  him  in  tlie  gloomy 
inter\Tils  of  solitude,  of  external  danger  and  distress,  and 
especially  on  the  bed  of  death.  The  honest  and  great 
teacher,  death,  gives  new  light  and  activity  to  his  reflect- 
ing pow  ers  ;  it  brings  into  lively  view  his  God  dishon- 
oured and  incensed,  his  Redeemer  insulted,  his  soul 
neglected  and  ruined,  his  fellow  men,  and  even  his  dear- 
est friends,  corrupted,  and  perhaps  destroyed  by  his 
criminal  example,  principles,  or  unfaithfulness.  To 
complete  this  picture  of  W'o,  the  hand  of  death  separates 
him  forever  from  those  worldly  objects,  to  which  all  his 
aftections,  habits,  and  pleasures  were  attached.  At  the 
same  time  it  excludes  him  from  the  beatific  presence 
of  that  Being,  who  only  could  make  him  happy ;  or  rath- 
er his  own  confirmed  depravity  renders  him  incapable 
of  sharing  in  the  pure  and  refined  enjoyments  of  the  in- 
visible world,  and  of  course  subjects  him  to  extreme  and 
hopeless  misery.     Thus  sound  reason  and  experience 


326  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Ser.  XXT. 

as  well,  as  revelation,  assure  us,  that  a  creature  so  form- 
ed and  destined,  as  the  human  soul,  cannot  be  happy 
in  any  possible  circumstances,  but  must  be  exceedingly- 
wretched,  without  religion ;  and  of  course,  that  this  is 
the  one  thing  necessary.  This  argument  is  greatly 
streng-thened  when  we  add, 

III.  That  the  Bible  holds  up  the  importance  of  re- 
ligion in  the  most  impressive  light,  by  revealing  the 
w  onderful  methods,  which  the  Most  High  has  employed 
to  restore  and  preserve  it  in  our  degenerate  world.  In- 
deed the  whole  system,  both  of  revelation  and  provi- 
dence, respecting  mankind,  has  been  directed  to  this 
object.  For  this,  prophets  and  apostles  preached  and 
\\Tote.  For  this,  kings  and  empires  have  been  exalted, 
shaken,  and  destroyed.  For  this,  the  church  of  God 
and  its  sacred  institutions  were  early  established,  and 
have  been  wonderfully  supported.  For  this,  the  Son  of 
God  descended  from  heaven  to  a  manger  and  a  cross, 
to  recover  fallen  man  to  true  religion,  and  thus  raise  him 
to  everlasting  happiness.  The  divine  Saviour  taught  and 
laboured,  obeyed  and  died,  rose  and  ascended,  and  still 
employs  his  interceding,  ruling,  and  saving  power.  In 
a  word,  the  scriptures  represent  the  work  of  redemption, 
as  the  greatest  effort  of  infinite  wisdom  and  lo\^e ;  and 
they  constantly  represent  this  work,  as  having  for  its  ob- 
ject the  restoration  of  our  souls  from  the  ruins  of  sin  to 
holiness  and  glory-  How  transcendcndy  necessary  and 
valuable  must  have  been  that  object,  on  which  infinite 
benevolence  and  wisdom  have  thus  lavished  their  treas- 
ures !  How  precious  the  human  soul,  for  which  heaven 
itself  has  paid  such  a  price  !  How  is  man  ennobled,  how 
is  religion  exalted,  by  such  a  mighty  apparatus  employ- 
ed in  their  favour  !  What  an  awful  and  endearing  bond 
does  this  impose  on  redeemed  men  to  value  their  own. 


Ser.XXV.]  one  thing  needful.  327 

souls,  to  seek  their  recovery  to  holiness  and  happiness, 
as  the  one  thing  needful !  How  unspeakably  does  it  en- 
hance the  guilt  and  condemnation  of  those,  a\  ho  oppose 
that  religion,  Avho  despise  that  salvation,  which  are  thus 
recommended  to  and  urged  upon  them  by  the  blood  of 
the  Son  of  God  !  How  can  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so 
great  salvation ! 

IV.  Religion  is  the  one  thing  needful,  because  it  is 
of  tmhersal  necessit}'.  It  is  equally  necessary  for  all 
men,  yea,  for  all  rational  creatures  in  the  uni\'erse.  Re- 
ligion essentially  consists  in  love  to  God  and  fellow  be- 
ings, expressed  in  every  suitable  way.  Now  this  is 
equally  the  duty  and  the  happiness  of  oil  classes  of  in- 
telligences. It  is  as  necessary  for  angels,  as  for  men  ; 
this  constitutes  the  chief  beauty  and  felicity  of  celestial 
spirits,  as  distinguished  from  malignant  and  miserable 
demons.  This  was  the  glory  and  bliss  of  man  in  Para- 
dise ;  and  the  recovery  and  exercise  of  this  spirit  are 
the  main  duty  and  interest  of  man  since  his  apostasy. 
In  other  words,  the  general  duty  of  men  is  always  ne- 
cessarily the  same,  though  the  particular  expressions  or 
instruments  of  it  may  considerably  vary.  Thus,  after 
the  fall,  repentance  of  sin,  faith  in  a  Mediator,  and  cer- 
tain outward  symbols,  as  signs  and  means  of  religion, 
became  proj^er  and  needful,  which  were  not  suitable  or 
necessary  for  innocent  man.  So  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances and  genius  of  the  Jewish  nation  rendered  many 
ceremonial  observances  expedient  for  them,  which  ai^e 
totally  improper  under  the  Christian  dispensation.  Yet 
still  the  same  general  spirit  and  practice  are  required, 
amid  all  this  variety  of  circumstances  and  modes.  The 
strictest  observance  of  the  Mosaic  rites  \A"as  of  no  avail 
any  further,  than  it  expressed  and  promoted  substantial 
virtue  and  piety.     Nor  is  the  most  zealous  regard  to  the^ 


528  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Ser.  XXV. 

peculiar  doctrines  and  institutions  of  tlie  gospel  of  any 
significancx ,  unless  it  produce  and  nourish  a  holy  temper 
and  conduct. 

As  vital  religion  is  thus  necessary  for  men  under  ev- 
ery dispensation,  so  it  is  equally  essential  in  all  their  civ- 
il and  worldly  employments,  in  all  the  relations,  which 
they  bear  to  human  societ}-.  Whether  they  move  in 
a  higher  or  low  er  sphere,  whether  they  pursue  an  active 
or  a  contemplative  life,  the}- are  equally  the  creatures  and 
subjects  of  God,  and  in  this  \^Q^v  are  equally  bound  to 
practise  every  moral  and  religious  duty.  The  more  ex- 
alted their  stations  are,  the  more  need  they  have  of  a  pi- 
ous principle  to  prevent  the  abuse  of  worldly  greatness ; 
to  secure  a  sober  estimate,  a  temperate  enjoyment,  a  dili- 
gent and  beneficent  improvement  of  it ;  to  make  them 
constantly  feel  the  high  duty  and  responsibility  attached 
to  it ;  and  thus  to  render  their  useful  examples  and  ef- 
forts in  some  measure  equal  to  their  extensive  powers 
and  opportimilies.  On  these  accounts  the  obligation 
and  necessity  of  religion  to  public  ofacers,  civil  as  well, 
as  ecclesiastical,  are  preeminently  great;  and  tlie  incon- 
sistency of  a  free,  well  informed,  and  Christian  people  in 
electing  men  to  high  stations,  who  are  not  faithful  to 
themselves  and  their  God,  can  hardly  be  expressed. 
The  ministers  of  the  commonwealth  ought  certainly 
to  co-operate  with  those  of  the  church,  in  promoting  the 
greatest  good  of  the  community  ;  but  how  can  this  be 
expected,  ii"  religion  be  not  the  governing  principle  of 
both  !  I  need  not  insist  on  the  importance  of  real  and 
exemplary  sanctity  in  Christian  instructors,  because  you 
instantly  perceive  the  absurdity  and  mischief  of  a  man's 
teaching  and  enforcing  upon  others  what  he  does  not 
heartih'  believe  and  practise  himself ;  and  because  you 
will  readily  allow,  that  personal  piety  in  a  minister  is  at 


Sem.  XXV.]  one  thing  needful.  529 

©nee  the  best  recommendjition  of  it  to  others,  and  the 
best  pledge  of  his  pastoral  fidelity  and  success. 

We  might  go  on  to  observe,  that  religion  is  likewise 
necessary  in  domestic  life.  It  is  important,  both  to  se- 
cure and  exalt  the  reciprocal  affections,  virtues,  and  sat- 
isfactioris  of  the  conjugal,  parental,  and.  filial  relations. 
It  is  needful  to  restrain  parents  from  relaxing  their  just 
authority  by  indolence  or  extreme  indulgence,  and  from 
abusing  it,  by  passionate  and  brutal  severity.  It  is  ne- 
cessary to  insure  that  sober  and  pious  education  of 
eliildren,  on  which  individual,  domestic,  and  public 
happiness  essentially  depends.  It  is  necessary  to  ren- 
der private  families  the  props  of  the  church  and  com- 
monwealth, and  nurseries  for  heaven.  That  spirit, 
which  religion  inspires,  Will  make  superiors  conde- 
scending and  beneficent ;  equals,  courteous  and  oblig- 
ing ;  inferiors,  respectful  and  submissive.  It  will  form 
men  into  good  neighbours,  faithful  friends,  orderly  cit- 
izens, and  useful  patriots.  The  pious  man,  who  acts 
from  principle,  will  be  far  more  correct  and  uniform, 
diligent  and  resolute,  in  performing  the  duties  of  every 
situation,  than  persons  of  a  differe^it  character.  He 
will  be  directed  by  the  best  motives,  both  in  the  choice 
and  prosecution  of  his  particular  calling.  His  great  and 
conscientious  inquiry  will  be,  in  what  employment  can 
I  best  serve  God  and  man,  and  promote  my  own  ever- 
lasting v.'ell  being.  As  he  sets  out  in  the  career  of  life 
\\ith  these  views,  so  his  after  progress,  being  guided 
and  animated  by  them,  will,  under  the  promised  favour 
of  Heaven,  be  safe  and  comfortable,  diligent  and  pros- 
perous, respectable  and  useful.  Since  then  religion  is 
so  important  to  every  rank,  relation,  and  business,  it 
may  well  be  styled  the  o?ic  thing  needful.     Other  acconj- 


330  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Ser.  XXV. 

plishments  may  be  severally  necessary  to  particular  em- 
ployments ;   but  this  is  alike  beneficial  to  all. 

As  this  qualification  is  indispensable  to  every  occupa- 
tion, so  it  is  needful  in  every  condition  and  vicissitude 
of  life.  If  vve  exult  in  out\vard  health  and  prosperity^ 
how  necessary  is  a  religious  principle  to  the  true  enjoy- 
ment and  the  right  improvement  of  such  a  state  !  How 
necessary  to  keep  us  in  the  middle  path  between  sordid 
avaiice  and  wanton  prodigality  !  How  often  does  world- 
ly wealth  destroy  the  virtue,  the  comfort,  the  usefulness, 
and  the  final  happiness  of  its  possessors,  by  nourishing  a 
proud  and  unfeeling,  an  anxious  and  craving,  a  carnal 
and  irreligious  spirit !  Nothing  but  deep  rooted  piety  is 
an  effectual  presei-vative  from  these  evils.  This,  and 
this  only,  will  extract  the  good,  without  the  poison,  of 
earthly  enjoyments.  This  will  produce  a  sentimental 
and  refined  relish  of  these  comforts,  and  at  the  same 
time,  a  virtuous  and  beneficent  application  of  them; 
which  gives  to  the  possessor  the  noblest  satisfaction 
they  are  fitted  to  impart.  Agreeably,  the  wisest  of  men 
has  told  us,  that  "  God  giveth  to  a  man,  that  is  good  in 
his  sight,  \visdom,  and  knowledge,  and  joy  ;"  wisdom 
and  knowledge  to  regulate  his  desire,  fruition,  and  im- 
provement of  temporal  blessings ;  and  joy,  as  the  fruit 
arid  reward  of  his  v»ise  regulations  :  "  but  to  the  sinner 
he  givetli  travail  to  gather  and  to  heap  up,"  without  any 
po\\er  to  crijoy,  or  to  do  good  v.ith  his  treasures* 
*'  This,"  Solomon  justly  adds,  "  is  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit." 

If  we  reverse  the  scene,  and  contemplate  the  child  of 
poverty  and  distress,  how  needful  is  religion  to  sustain, 
to  sooth,  and  to  sanctify  his  afflicted  state  !  When  the 
world  frov/ns  upon  him  on  e^•eryside,  from  what  source 


Ser.XXV.]  one  thing  needful.  331 

can  he  derive  comfort,  but  from  the  smiles  of  conscience 
and  of  Heaven,  from  a  pious  resignation  to,  and  trust  in 
the  providence  of  God,  and  the  hope  of  eternal  glory,  as 
the  recompense  of  his  momentary  sufferings,  patient- 
1}^  endured  and  rightly  improved  ?  Those  troubles, 
which  crush  the  spirits  of  the  wicked,  give  new  lustre 
and  triumph  to  the  man  of  religion,  by  displaying  the 
efficacy  of  pious  principles  in  blunting  the  darts  of  ad- 
versity, and  con^'erting  them  into  instruments  of  holiness 
and  joy. 

We  may  add  here,  religion  Is  eminently  needful  to 
inspire  equanimity  amid  those  sudden  changes  of  condi- 
tion, to  which  we  are  constantly  exposed ;  to  keep  our 
minds  humble  and  temperate,  when  we  are  hastily  exalt- 
ed from  a  poor,  calamitous  state,  to  affluence,  ease,  or  ce- 
lebrity ;  and  to  give  us  fortitude  and  submission,  when 
unexpectedly  visited  with  the  reverse.  In  short,  piety 
must  be  our  continual  pilot  and  anchor,  both  to  steer 
our  course  through  the  uncertain  voyage  of  life,  and  en- 
able us  to  out  ride  the  storms,  which  assail  it.  This 
leads  us  to  subjoin, 

That  the  preeminence  of  religion  further  appears 
from  its  importance  at  all  seasons.  To  every  thing- 
else,  as  the  wise  man  tells  us,  there  are  appropri- 
ate seasons  ;  but  this  is  always  seasonable,  and  there- 
fore always  beautiful  and  necessary.  A  professor  of  pie- 
ty must  never  sacrifice  his  religion  to  any  compa- 
ny, business,  or  amusement ;  he  must  appear  always 
adorned  v>ith  it ;  he  must  be  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  all  the 
day  long  ;  he  must  rejoice  in  God  always  ;  he  must  pray 
and  give  thanks  without  ceasing;  he  must  do  every 
thing  to  the  glory  of  God  ;  that  is,  a  pious  habit  and 
z  z 


332  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  [Ser.XXV, 

frame  of  spirit,  a  readiness  for  duty,  a  pre\'ailing  desire 
to  please  God  and  profit  men,  must  never  be  suspendr 
ed.  This  must  regulate  and  sanctify  his  Avorldh^  busi- 
ness, his  social  duties,  and  even  his  cheerful  relaxa- 
tions. Unless  this  be  our  habitual  aim,  we  contradict 
the  great  end,  for  which  time  and  existence  Mere 
given  us. 

This  observation  introduces  another,  which  is,  that 
religion  is  necessary  for  every  stage  of  life,  from  early 
childhood  to  gre}^  hairs.  The  youngest  human  being 
must  have  the  seeds  of  this  hea^'enly  temper,  in  order 
to  qualify  him  for  the  heavenly  felicity.  You,  who  are 
in  the  bloom  of  childhood,  or  of  3'outh,  need  this  prin- 
ciple to  guard  you  against  the  numberless  temptations 
to  folly  and  sin,  which  constantly  surround  you.  You 
need  it  to  improve  those  in\\ard  accomplishments,  ex- 
terior manners,  and  innocent  pleasures,  which  become 
vour  period  of  life.  You  need  it,  as  the  great  prepara- 
tive for  a  useful  manhood,  a  comfortal^lc  old  age,  and 
a  peaceful  death.  It  is  needful  for  persons  of  mature 
years  to  moderate,  to  sanctify,  and  to  prosper  the 
■worldly  cares,  pursuits,  and  enjoyments  of  manly  life. 
It  is  needful  for  adxanced  age,  to  lighten  its  burdens, 
to  p-ive  dignity  to  the  lioar}'  head,  to  compensate  and 
sooth  the  decay  of  animal  life,  and  its  pleasures,  with  the 
hope  of  immortal  vigour  and  undecaying  pleasure  at 
God's  right  hand. 

Which  brings  us  to  remark  in  the  Last  place,  that  re- 
ligion is  necessary  for  both  rcorlds  ;  while  other  things 
are  needful  in  a  sense,  which  is  merely  local  and  tempo- 
rary. AVhen  \\e  call  food  and  raiment,  and  comfortable 
habitations  necessaries  of  life,  we  use  a  dialect,  which 
belongs  only  to  the  animal  part  and  the  infantile  state  of 


Seh.  XXV.]  ONE  THING  NEEDFUL.  S33 

man ;  for  these  things  are  so  far  from  being  essential  to 
him,  when  arrived  at  his  true  perfection,  that  their  ne- 
cessity and  use  Mill  then  fore^'er  cease ;  yea,  he  must 
drop  these  badges  and  fetters  of  childhood,  before  he 
can  enjoy  matured  freedom  and  happiness  ;  before  he 
can  rise  to  those  noble  and  everlasting  joys,  for  which 
his  nature  is  designed.  Did  we,  my  brethren,  fully  real- 
ize these  truths,  we  should  hardly  apply  the  term  neces- 
sary to  any  thing,  but  that,  \^hich  directly  promotes  our 
ultimate  perfection  and  blessedness.  Now  what  can 
this  be,  but  religion  ?  This  and  this  only  assimilates  us 
to  God  and  superior  beings,  and  of  course  renders  us 
capable  of  sharing  their  society  and  blessedness.  It  is 
the  voice  of  reason  as  well,  as  revelation  :  ' '  Without  ho- 
liness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord."  But  "  blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart;  for  they  shall  see  God."  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  do  his  commandments,  that  they  may  have 
a  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the 
gates  into  the  city." 

As  the  preceding  discourse  has  been  wholly  practical, 
and  has  aimed  to  bring  home  the  importance  of  true  pie- 
ty to  every  one's  conscience,  there  is  no  necessity,  nor 
indeed  time,  for  a  formal  application.  Otherwise  we 
might  lament  the  folly,  depravity,  and  wretchedness  of 
those,  who  openly  despise,  or  carelessly  neglect  the  one 
thing  needful.  If  there  could  be  grief  in  heaven,  angels 
would  weep  at  such  a  spectacle.  We  might  congratu- 
late those,  who,  having  chosen  and  secured  the  good 
part,  have  no  occasion  for  anxious  concern  about  any 
thing  else.  But  I  will  only  leave  with  you  and  n^yself, 
this  one  reflection  :  Our  subject  holds  out  to  each  of 
us  this  awful  alternative  ;  v,-e  must  either  become  truly 
holy,  or  sell  our  birthi-ight,  as  rational  beings,  and  sink 


334  ONE  THINU  NEEDFUu  [Ser.  XXV. 

ourselves  far  below  the  brutes.  We  must  either  love 
and  ser\c  our  Creator,  or  share  tlic  dreadful  guilt  and 
punishment  of  his  enemies.  Let  us  then  make  our 
choice.  But  O  let  us  choose  life,  that  vvc  may  li^'e,  and 
not  die. 


JflJVl  s. 


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